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“He probably wouldn’t even notice, so knock yourself out.” Caleb opened a door to the right. “Bathroom’s through here. Dad has his own in the master bedroom, so don’t worry about him knocking on the door.”
He went through into the room opposite. “This is my old bedroom and there’s a guest room to the right of the bathroom.”
Lucy took a deep breath. “Can I stay with you?” She immediately went to qualify her question. “I mean, if that’s okay, but if your dad wouldn’t approve, it’s his house, and—”
“I’d like that,” Caleb said simply. “And I don’t care what he thinks.”
She looked up at him. “I know this is hard for you, Caleb.”
“You have no idea.” He let out a frustrated breath. “How am I supposed to communicate with someone who barely bothers to acknowledge my existence?”
“Meet him on his own terms and in his own environment?”
His brows came together. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“My dad always says that he gets the best out of Dan when they work alongside each other rather than him sitting behind his desk asking questions Dan doesn’t want to answer.”
“You think I should get out there and help?”
She shrugged. “If you want to try and reach him it can’t do any harm, can it?”
“Iwantclosure,” he said strongly. “I want to walk away from him knowing I did everything I could, and that he understands that.”
“Then get out to that barn and make yourself useful,” Lucy said. “And I’ll sort out the food and the Christmas decorations.”
He leaned in and kissed her gently on the mouth.
“You’re full of good advice.”
“Dan would say I’m bossy.”
“And I’m not Dan.” He kissed her again. “I’ll see if I can find my old work clothes and get out there.”
“I bet everything’s exactly where you left it.”
He smiled for the first time. “Probably.”
She left him to investigate and went back into the kitchen to work out where everything was. The huge casserole was cooking gently in the oven and about ten potatoes sat on the shelf above the pot, baking away, as well. There was a large refrigerator and freezer that made it easy to store all the Christmas goodies she’d brought with her. As she worked, she kept coming across little reminders of Caleb’s mother—her handwritten recipes, the labels on the spice jars in the pantry, a card from Caleb she’d kept on the pinboard.
Lucy left everything exactly where she found it. After putting a bag of cookie dough on the table to defrost, she went through to the family room and stared at the newly cut pine tree. It smelled divine but looked a little sad without lights and tinsel. When she’d set up the three Christmas trees at the B&B, she’d been reminded of her grandma so much she’d cried. She could understand why Caleb’s father hadn’t wanted to do the tree himself, but the place needed something to show it was Christmas, and the tree was already cut down, and just standing there looking sad . . .
It took her a while to untangle the lights and test them to see if they were working. They were the old-fashioned multicolored ones she secretly still loved. She placed them on the tree first, just as her grandma had taught her, and opened the box containing the ornaments. There was the usual selection of battered but beloved family treasures. She even recognized the things Caleb had made in school because she’d made the same ones six years later with the same teachers.
There was a battered angel to go on the top, but Lucy wasn’t quite tall enough to get it up without a chair. She considered the grimy face and dress and took the doll through to her bathroom, where she gently cleaned the porcelain and sponge-washed the patches on the white skirts. The rich smell of the casserole drifted through from the kitchen, and she checked the time. She’d half been expecting Caleb to come straight back. He’d been out there for at least two hours, which had to be promising.
Didn’t it?
* * *
“What do you want?” Caleb’s dad looked up as he approached.
“Thought I could lend a hand.” Caleb tried to sound both helpful and upbeat as he checked out the inside of the barn. It was still as clean as a barn could be, with nothing out of place except for the occasional bird’s nest in the rafters his dad grudgingly allowed to stay.
“Doing what, exactly?” Isaiah asked. “Nothing complicated to fix around here.”
Caleb slowly let out his breath. “I’m sure there are stalls to muck out, manure to shift, or livestock to deal with?”
“Stalls need turning out.” His dad handed him a shovel. “You can start at the other end. Wheelbarrow’s just outside.”
