An Aspen Creek Christmas. Roxanne Rustand
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with what he hoped was an easy smile. “But it would be tough having just one hand and my prosthesis does help a lot.”
“It...it looks like real skin on it,” Molly whispered.
Ethan nodded. “Supposed to. But that’s just a skin-colored cosmetic cover, so it doesn’t draw attention. I don’t always wear it.”
Molly surveyed him from head to toe, her eyes filled with blatant curiosity.
“No other mechanical parts,” he said, guessing at her unspoken question. “Though several bones in my right leg were shattered. I still wear a brace.”
“Forever?”
He shrugged. “I hope not.”
“I’m so sorry about all you’ve been through, Ethan,” Hannah murmured. “When did it happen?”
He glanced at Molly and Cole, once again unsure of what to say in front of them. “Last spring. A couple weeks...before.”
Hannah winced and closed her eyes briefly. “And that’s why you couldn’t come back for the funeral. I’m sorry about what I said to you earlier. I had no idea that you were injured. Cynthia should have said something to me at the funeral...or later.”
“She didn’t know yet. She and I were rarely in touch over the years.”
Cole turned back to brushing the pony.
Molly seemed to have lost interest in the conversation, as well. She wandered along the fenced perimeter of the backyard and peered into a chain link at one end of the barn, jumping back when an explosion of black-and-white feathers flew into the air.
“That’s Mabel,” Hannah called out. “She’s gets herself in a kerfuffle at the least thing, but Ruth and Louise are a little less silly. They’re probably taking a nice sensible nap inside the barn, where it’s warm.”
Molly looked over her shoulder. “You rescue chickens?”
“A lady near town had them. When she passed away, her family brought them here. They actually do lay eggs once in a while, but not so much now that it’s winter.”
“Chickens. Back in Texas, I expect they would have been dinner by now,” Ethan mused.
A glint of humor sparked in her eyes. “Maybe so, but I could never eat something that has a name—or such individual personalities as those hens do.”
Her gaze dropped to his jeans and he realized he’d been idly massaging the deep hollow along his outer right thigh, where the explosion had ripped away most of the muscle. “Does your leg still ache a lot?”
He shrugged. “Not really.”
“Right. And poor old Mabel has an IQ of two hundred.”
He snorted.
“Still, I haven’t noticed you limp at all.”
“Only if I’m tired, or walk too far. Or,” he added with a short, humorless laugh, “if I step on it wrong. Which means a return to active duty isn’t yet on the horizon.”
She lowered her voice. “I can only imagine how many surgeries you’ve been through and the months of rehab.”
“I have no memory of the explosion, and very little of the month afterward. And later—with the ongoing surgeries and the intensive rehab—I wasn’t able to focus on much else. I didn’t look at email or snail mail for months.”
She rested a gentle hand on his arm. “And no wonder. I’m so—”
“I don’t want sympathy,” he retorted, his voice too harsh. “I never should have—”
He stopped himself in time and looked away. Until this moment, he’d never talked about the explosion or its aftermath. Not even through his wasted months in support groups or the attempts of a private counselor. Regrets were a waste of time, because he deserved what had happened to him.
Nothing would ever change the truth of what occurred that day. And nothing could ever erase his guilt.
At the sound of a car pulling to a stop outside, Hannah glanced at her watch and gave the table a final, critical glance.
Four settings of her grandmother’s china were placed on the cranberry tablecloth, flanked with her own silverware, folded linen napkins and her mother’s sparkly water goblets.
Warm, flaky biscuits were already nestled in a napkin-lined basket and, from the sound of approaching footsteps outside, the rest of the dinner had arrived.
She hurried to the front door and ushered in Keeley and Sophie, some of her best friends in town. The aroma of roasted turkey, buttery sage dressing and sweet potatoes flooded her senses.
She closed her eyes and inhaled. “This is incredible. I can’t believe you did all of this for us!”
Keeley and Sophie set the food on the counter. “We have at least one more trip in,” Sophie said with a cheerful smile as she turned for the front door. “Then we’ll leave you in peace.”
Ethan, seated in one of the upholstered chairs by the fireplace, stood and turned to face them with an easy grin.
Keeley blinked and darted a quick, questioning glance at Hannah, her eyebrows raised. Sophie stumbled to a halt and simply stared.
Disconcerted, Hannah cleared her throat. “Uh, Ethan Williams, I’d like you to meet my dear friends, Keeley North and Sophie McLaren. They knew things were going to be a little crazy here and volunteered to bring Thanksgiving dinner. And, um, Keeley and Sophie, Ethan is—or was—my sister’s brother-in-law. He came to see his niece and nephew.”
Sophie looked as if she were on the verge of melting into a puddle of awe and admiration over the unexpected visitor.
Keeley recovered more quickly. “Nice to meet you, Ethan.”
When he made no move to step closer and offer a handshake, she slid another glance at Hannah then gave him a welcoming smile. “Did you travel far?”
“I flew in from Dallas—this morning.”
“Well, I’m sure the children were happy to see you,” Keeley murmured. “As you’ll see, we brought way, way too much food, and I hope you’ll all enjoy it.”
Sophie finally found her voice. “I’ve been dying to meet the kids. Where are they?”
Hannah tipped her head toward the bedrooms. “Just hold on a minute.”
“We’ll go ahead and finish bringing in the food.”
Ethan followed the two women outside to help, and soon containers of mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole and three pies filled the counter.
Molly edged to the threshold of her room and glanced at the newcomers, then bowed her head, but Hannah had to go into Cole’s bedroom to convince him to come out.
Keeley beamed at them both. “I am so happy to meet you two. Molly and Cole, right? I hope we’ll get to see a lot of you around town.”
“I hope so, too,” Sophie echoed. “My son Eli is in fourth grade, and I know he’ll be very excited about meeting you both.”
“Tell Hannah to bring you by my shop anytime,” Keeley added. “I always have fresh homemade cookies for special visitors.”
Hannah glanced between them. “Can you join us for dinner? It would only take a moment to add some place settings.”
“Wish I could,” Sophie said with a wistful smile. “We have a lot of catching up to do. But Josh is on call at the ER today, so I need to be home with Eli.”
“And I need to get