couldn’t be sure what she’d dreamed and what had been lucid thought. It was almost like she had two fathers. The first one loved Christmas and reindeer and animals and her. The second one was a selfish loner who did what he wanted no matter the consequences to the people around him.
She wasn’t sure who was waking up from surgery this morning—which dad would she find? “Not right now,” she responded, putting off the answer to her question. She gave the nurse a note to give to Dad when he was fully awake that said she went out to check on a reindeer. At least he’d be happy about that.
It wasn’t long before Faith found herself in a beautiful new red Ford pickup truck with seat warmers that grew her exhaustion like germs in a petri dish. She leaned her head against the cold window and watched the tops of six-foot fence posts strung with barbed wire fly by. The road was covered in a sheet of compact snow, and the plows had pushed enough off the road to cover the fences. The fields were empty blankets of white—sometimes broken up by snowmobile treads.
Her car wouldn’t have made it far on the slippery roads, but Caleb’s truck seemed to do just fine. He had bags of feed in the back for weight and flipped on the four-wheel drive, which meant they traveled at about 30 miles per hour. She was warm and oddly comfortable despite the cowboy sharing the cab and the fact that she was about to visit the one place on God’s earth she’d sworn she’d never go.
She must have dozed off, because she jolted awake as the truck bounced into a long driveway. Eager to appease her long-standing curiosity, she leaned forward in her seat. The field next to her was full of reindeer. The females had beautiful sets of antlers; the males had already shed theirs during November. They drove for a full five minutes with nothing but reindeer to admire until the road opened up into a parking area. Straight ahead was a stunning two-story country home done in light gray with red shutters and a white wraparound porch. A green wreath hung on the door, and holiday garlands wove around the support beams. Large trees stood sentry in the front yard, their shade probably welcomed in the summer. She’d bet a month’s salary the Nichollases had lights strung everywhere and the home was stunning at night.
She rubbed her arms, instinctively knowing that this was a home so unlike the one she’d grown up in. This was the kind of place where decorating a Christmas tree wasn’t a chore and the scent of homemade apple cider warming on the stove enveloped you when you walked through the front door.
Turning away, because the house and the accompanying yearnings it created were too much to bear, she focused on the barn. Red—because what other color would a Christmas-loving family pick?—and bigger than the apartment building she’d lived in at college, it was trimmed in white. Along the side was a large sign that read “Reindeer Wrangler Ranch,” complete with holly clusters in the corners. A huge indoor arena finished in gray and white like the house stood next to the barn. The whole place screamed of money and privilege.
“Shoot.” Caleb scrambled for his phone and pressed a few buttons. “Announcement: we have a visitor on the ranch. Repeat—we have a visitor. Everyone is grounded.”
“Ten-four.”
“Copy that.”
“The workout doors are shut. Are we good in here?”
Caleb’s lips disappeared in his beard as he pressed them together. He glanced at her before responding. “I think so. I’ll give you warning if we come that way.”
“Thanks.”
That was the strangest thing she’d ever heard. “What was that?” she demanded.
Caleb shrugged. “Usual procedure.”
“For what, an air raid?” Everyone’s grounded?
She leaned forward in her seat and glanced up at the sky, then at what she’d thought was an indoor arena. Maybe it was an airplane hangar. Some farmers in this area used planes to fertilize their crops. Her breath caught at the thought of flying with Caleb. She’d ridden in a helicopter and a small plane before—both times, she’d felt like she was given a glimpse of how God must see the world in all its beauty. Perspective had been gained, because the things that were so big in her life suddenly seemed small. And the feeling that time extended on and on had overcome her, letting her know that deadlines and appointment schedules,