One Tough Christmas Cookie - Lucy McConnell Page 0,33

reindeer. I’d give all this away for any of my kids.”

Her shoulders fell. “Not my dad. He gave me up for this.” She swallowed down the bitter taste in her mouth.

Mr. Nichollas sighed. “I don’t think the explanation for what happened with your parents is all that easy. In my experience, it takes both partners giving 100% to make it work.”

She waited, hoping he would expound, because she had more questions about the past than she had answers.

He replaced the lid on the cocoa. “People are complicated. There’s more to the story—have you asked your mother why she left? Or your dad why he stayed?”

She snorted and thunked her mug on the table. “Mom’s told me plenty of times that dad cared more about the reindeer than he did us.”

Mr. Nichollas frowned. “I’d like to think the very best of my friend and defend him in this, but I’m pretty sure he got caught up in what goes on out here and didn’t bring your mother along. He could have, ya know—we wouldn’t have kept her away.”

“So why didn’t he?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask him.” Mr. Nichollas drew in a sharp breath, as if screwing up his courage. “But I’ll bet you he cared about you the most. I couldn’t spend more than three minutes with the man before he was bragging on you.”

“I don’t know that person.”

“Maybe it’s time you did.” He gave her a side hug to soften the blow his words inflicted. “Looks like our break is over. You ready?”

She nodded. She was more than ready to get to the bottom of things with her dad and to help these reindeer. She could use some more of their antics to cheer her up and cheer her on. By the end of today, she’d have a lot to talk to her father about. She just hoped she could get to the important stuff, because it was easy to talk about reindeer—not so easy to talk about the hurts of her heart.

Chapter 11

Caleb

Muscles that didn’t get used all the time complained as Caleb let the last reindeer out of the chute. Sugar, who was ironically named because there was nothing about that reindeer that was sweet, flicked her tail as she walked past.

He would have tugged her ear in response like a twelve-year-old, but he was beyond those kinds of tricks. Sugar loved to pull out the worst in people. It was almost like she knew she’d been passed up as a Santa reindeer, so she was determined to be on the Naughty List. Mom always said to give her some slack because it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t fly. Dad would point out that less than one percent of the herd could fly and the rest of them weren’t sourpusses like Sugar. It was an ongoing debate between the two of them, and Caleb opted to stay out of it.

“That just leaves the reindeer in the barn.” Dad walked hunched over and bowlegged, like he’d pulled that muscle in his back again. Probably needed a good hot bath and some time in his massage chair to work it out.

Faith opened her coat and counted the syringes she had left in that nifty vest of hers.

“I’ll take Faith in,” Caleb volunteered. The reindeer had been put in their short stalls that morning to keep them from flying all over the place. They liked to let them have the run of the barn, even if it meant a cleanup job, because a flying reindeer was happier when they could climb the walls. Since Faith wasn’t on the Santa-approved list, they’d taken precautions.

“Hey now.” Forest lifted a gloved hand. His cheeks were rosy from the cold, and his eyes were bright. “How about you quit hogging the new lady doc to yourself and let some of the rest of us get to know her?” He winked at Faith, who stared at him with an open mouth.

Caleb longed to reach over and lift her jaw, but he kept his hands to himself and glared at his brother. “I think you have some panels to clean up.”

Forest laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Thanks for your expertise today, Faith. I appreciate you—even if my lunkhead brother doesn’t.” He clipped Caleb on the shoulder and danced out of the way in case Caleb came back swinging.

Caleb did not. Retaliation only fueled Forest’s teasing.

“Yes, thank you, Faith. We couldn’t have done this without you, and we’re grateful you caught the sickness before it spread