Roxanne Rustand - An Aspen Creek Christmas

With all the times her family had moved in the past three years, Hannah knew the poor girl had barely had the time to make new friends before changing schools and starting over. Though she wasn’t ready to hear it, Aspen Creek would be her first chance to actually put down roots.

“Speaking of friends, I have some for you to meet—right here.”

Molly shuddered. “I’m not staying and I don’t want to meet anyone.”

Hannah rose. “I think you’ll feel differently in a moment. After breakfast, we’ll have some introductions. Okay?”

“I don’t like breakfast.”

Hannah had known there’d be plenty of problems ahead, and that choosing her battles would be the key to making this work. Today’s breakfast just wasn’t one of them.

* * *

Cole finished his cereal, then swiveled in circles on his bar stool several times before pulling to a stop and pinning his gaze on Ethan. “You’re my uncle?”

Ethan nodded.

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “I never met you.”

“That’s because I’m usually very far away.” Ethan cleared his throat. Did he explain that he was Rob’s brother or would mentioning the kid’s dad make him cry?

He’d always been uneasy around children, never having a clue what to say. If he upset the boy, would it make everything even more difficult in the future?

He definitely didn’t want to mess this up on the first day.

He summoned a smile. “You did meet me, Cole...but you were just a little guy then.”

From Cole’s stubborn expression, he wasn’t buying it. “If you’re my uncle, how come you didn’t come see us all the time like Hannah? She came lots of times on a plane, and even brought us presents. Every time.”

“Well, I couldn’t come to see you often because I’m a soldier. So I’ve been gone a lot, way on the other side of the world.”

“Shooting guns and stuff like on TV?” The boy’s eyes widened with worry and a touch of fear. “Do you kill people for real?”

“Uh...” He searched for the right thing to say to the boy, who slid off his stool and backed up beside Hannah, and figured a vague answer was best. “Soldiers do a lot of things—not just fight.”

Cole considered that for a moment, his expression still wary. “So I could take you to show-and-tell, with your guns and everything?”

Ethan shuddered at that. “That would not be a good idea, buddy. Guns aren’t safe—especially at school.”

He looked up and found Hannah glaring at him, her arms folded over her chest and her eyes as cold as steel.

“You can thank your aunt Cynthia for how he feels about you. Apparently she told Molly and Cole that you were a tough guy. One who would really straighten them out. If you ever showed up, anyway.”

“Why on earth would she—” He heaved a sigh, suddenly knowing all too well.

Even when he and Rob were kids, she’d been a stickler about her designer clothes, her elegant lifestyle. She’d always watched them like a hawk during their rare visits to her pristine home. Having Rob’s two kids underfoot all those months had probably been unbelievably stressful for a woman who had always prized perfection over warm family emotions.

Ethan cleared his throat, searching for a different topic. “So, do you, um, like to ride bikes?”

“Don’t got one.” The child’s face fell, his eyes filled with stark grief. “Mom said she’d get me a bike after we moved. But she died.”

“I—I’m...” The boy’s words felt like a fist to Ethan’s gut and he floundered to a halt. “I’m so sorry about that.”

Knowing Rob, there probably hadn’t been any extra money for a new bike anyway, even though Ethan had loaned him a lot of money over the years.

His brother had always had just one more emergency, one more bout of overdue bills, and promises that it wouldn’t happen again. And, always, a case of amnesia when it came to paying any of it back.

“I’m not batting a thousand here, am I?” Ethan muttered, looking up at Hannah.

“Nope.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “And just in case you haven’t noticed, never think this situation is easy.”

Cole looked between them, clearly confused by their exchange.

“Time for a new topic,” Hannah muttered as she put Cole’s bowl and cup in the sink. She smiled down at him. “We have our first snowstorm of the year predicted on Sunday, so right now I think we should be shopping for sleds. But come spring I’ll make sure you and your sister have new bikes. Now—are you ready for a surprise?”

His eyes round and serious, Cole nodded.

Molly appeared in the kitchen, her expression dour, and Ethan felt his heart clench at seeing her long, curly brown hair and big green eyes. Cole was fair and blond like his mom, but Molly was nearly identical to her dad at that same age—even down to her stubborn chin, the sprinkle of freckles over her nose and slender frame.

“Stay where you are, so you don’t get trampled. I’ll be right back.” Hannah went through a door leading into the attached garage, leaving it open behind her.

A moment later a river of puppies exploded into the kitchen. Black ones. White ones. Gold. Spotted and speckled. They tumbled across the floor with squeals of excitement and chased each other throughout the kitchen and living room. The basset snored on.

Giggling, Cole dropped to the floor, quickly overcome with puppies trying to crawl over his legs. But though a glimmer of a smile briefly touched her lips, Molly held on to her aloof expression and backed away.

Ethan winced as a white pup with a black spot over one eye careened against his bad right ankle then landed in a heap on his other foot.

Forgetting his usual caution, he reached down and scooped it up, cradling its fat bottom in his good hand to look into its pudgy face. “Who are you, little guy?”

“I haven’t named any of them yet,” Hannah said. “That might be a good job for Molly and Cole.”

She glanced at Ethan’s weak ankle, where his brace probably showed beneath the hem of his jeans, and cocked her head, obviously curious but too polite to ask. But when she lifted her gaze, her attention caught on his prosthetic hand and her mouth dropped open. She quickly looked away. “I...I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry, Ethan. Are, um, you all right now?”

Unwanted attention.

Shallow sympathy.

Platitudes.

He gritted his teeth. After leaving the hospital he’d encountered those reactions at every turn and he wanted none of it.

He knew he was fortunate to still have both legs. Fortunate to finally be walking unaided and to have a state-of-the-art prosthesis that once again made him a functional human being.

But he still struggled with a surge of instant resentment whenever he saw pity in someone’s eyes. So many soldiers had to deal with far worse and deserved sympathy far more than he did. And all too many—some of the best friends he’d ever had—never had a chance to come home.

He shrugged off her sentiment and surveyed the puppy pandemonium. “This is like trying to count minnows in a bucket. How many of them are there?”

“An even dozen.” She hitched her chin toward the garage. “The mom was a stray and she was brought here just before she whelped.”

“Quite a bonanza.”

Hannah picked up two of the black-and-white-spotted pups and snuggled them against her neck. “Not a record litter, but more than enough. She’ll be spayed before I try to find her a good home.”

Molly looked up at Hannah. “They all live here?”

“Not in the house. The mom and pups have a fenced cage, heat lamp and warm bed in the garage, with a doggie door out to the fenced backyard. I bring the little guys inside for socialization several times a day and give their poor mom a break.” Hannah grinned at her. “Now that you’re here, you can help me play with them. I have more friends to show you, but that can wait until I do chores.”