Hope for Christmas

  Hope for Christmas

  Elizabeth Maddrey

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by Elizabeth Maddrey

  ©2018 by Elizabeth R.R. Maddrey

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Scripture quoted by permission. Quotations designated (NIV) are from THE HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica. All rights reserved worldwide.

  Cover design by Jennifer Zemanek of Seedlings Design Studio

  Published in the United States of America by Elizabeth Maddrey. www.ElizabethMaddrey.com

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  For my mother, thank you for always believing in me.

  1

  Cyan Hewitt stared out at the waves of the Pacific Ocean. The pebbly beach on Whidbey Island wasn’t comfortable for sitting, so he’d found himself doing a lot of standing on mornings when the sea called to him. He burrowed his hands into the kangaroo pocket of the hoodie he’d gotten in college. It was the one piece of spirit wear he owned, and he hadn’t purchased it because he loved the school, but because he’d been cold and they’d been discounted.

  A lot of the things in his life were like that. Convenient, useful, but not particularly meaningful.

  He sighed and turned away from the water.

  He was a lot like that, and the lack of meaning was like a constant itch under his skin that nothing could scratch.

  His sister, Azure, said it was because he needed Jesus. His grandparents, with whom he’d recently initiated contact, hinted at the same thing. They weren’t as “pound your face in it” as Azure, but then, there weren’t many people in the world like his sister.

  Cyan smiled. Of his siblings, she was his favorite. Which was why her words had taken root in his heart. Did he need Jesus? Would faith really quiet his restless heart?

  Thanksgiving was next week. He’d planned to swing south and see his parents’ new house. The fact that they’d settled down in one spot didn’t surprise him as much as it seemed to amaze his other siblings. Why wouldn’t they? They’d seen everything they wanted to see, been everywhere they wanted to be. Why keep roaming when the road stopped calling?

  It had stopped calling him years ago, but he’d continued the family tradition of wandering simply because he hadn’t wanted to be the first to bow to convention, or however his parents would’ve phrased it had they not been the ones to start the trend. Now they were homeowners, and Azure was heading back to southern Virginia and the man she’d fallen in love with—a man as tied down as they came, from what his sister told him—which meant maybe now he could park somewhere himself.

  The question became where?

  He didn’t particularly want to see his parents.

  That was horrible, of course, but being around them amplified the itch under his skin.

  Cyan sighed and climbed the hill, away from the water, to the beach house he was house sitting. The owners would be back tomorrow, so he’d clear out today. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten in his car without a destination in mind.

  If he was lucky, though, it might be the last.

  Homey chores took him through the morning. With his car packed and the key turned in to the house sitting agency, Cyan frowned at the map. South. But to where?

  Azure’s number popped up on his cell, and he smiled. Maybe his sister would have an idea.

  “Hey, Az.”

  “Hey. You on the road yet?” The noise of her old truck’s engine was audible over the connection. How did she stand driving around in a vintage car without the creature comforts modern engineering provided?

  “Almost. Trying to figure out where to go. How close to Virginia are you?”

  “I’ve still got another two, three days before I’m home. Go see the grandparents. You’ll like them.”

  Home? Had he ever heard his sister use that word and mean something other than the vintage camper that served as her mobile tiny home as she moved around from job to job? It was weird—and nice—to think of her with someone important in her life. He’d have to meet the man at some point. “Or I could come to Virginia, too, and see if this guy’s good enough for you.”

  She laughed. “He is. And I’m serious. You’d love their ranch. They have horses.”

  “Why would I love that?” It wasn’t that he disliked animals. He’d considered, at one time, becoming a veterinarian. Until he’d realized just how much extra school that entailed. No thank you. But he knew next to nothing about horses.

  “Trust me on this. Betsy—Grandma—was talking about her Hatch chile stuffed turkey that they always serve for Thanksgiving dinner. If I didn’t need to get back to Matt, I would’ve stayed just to try it myself. They’re great. You told me that yourself. Why don’t you want to meet them in person?”

  “I do. They are. It’s just—” What? What was it? “Wasn’t it weird?”

  “Maybe a little. But like you said, they’re good people. And they love us, Cy. Even having never met us. Go to New Mexico.”

  “You don’t think I should head to Arizona? See Mom and Dad?”

  Azure sighed. “If you want. They’d love to see you, too.”

  “But you think I’d be better off at the grandparents’?”

  “I think you should do what you want. I just know Wayne and Betsy would love to meet you in person.”

  He laughed. There was the sister he knew and loved. “What do they do at the ranch? Would I be in the way?”

  “I’m not sure they do a ton anymore. Wayne wants to retire. They seem to have a solid group of people working for them. They have horses and do riding lessons. I think they board horses for people in the area as well. And there are cabins—Betsy said something about camps of some sort during the summer.”

  It sounded interesting. “Still warm there?”

  “Um. No. They’re on a mesa and near good skiing. They’d already had some snow this year and were expecting more. It’s not at all like what I picture when I think of New Mexico. But then, I’m not sure I knew what to picture.”

  Skiing was fun. He hadn’t been in a while, but the times he’d been he’d enjoyed it. “Maybe I’ll do that. Not like I can’t leave if it’s weird.”

  “There you go.” Azure chuckled. “Let me know what you think, okay?”

  “Yeah, I can do that. Thanks, Az.” Cyan ended the call and pulled up the map on his phone. He studied the route, nodded, and pointed his car toward the Interstate. It’d take close to twenty-two hours of driving to get there, so he might as well get started.

  * * *

  Cyan bumped down the dirt road toward the ranch entrance. Rancho de Esperanza. He’d looked it up. It meant Ranch of Hope. That seemed right in line with how he’d categorized his grandparents in their increasingly frequent conversations. They were full of hope and love and, what was it? Optimis
m, maybe? It wouldn’t bother him if some of that rubbed off on him. He could use it.

  He’d stopped for the night in Durango, Colorado, not wanting to show up at the ranch in the middle of the night. He hadn’t let them know he was coming. He hadn’t been completely sure he was coming. Part of him still thought he’d be better off heading to see his parents in Arizona. Maybe swinging down to see Indigo and her husband, too. But curiosity about his grandparents, especially now that Azure had met them, swung the pendulum toward New Mexico.

  Hopefully they’d be glad to see him.

  A big, single-story, adobe house sprawled in the center of the view. The road curved around to form a driveway and split off leading toward wooden structures behind. Those had to be the stables, didn’t they? A split-rail fence made a circle to one side. Someone worked with a horse on a long lead inside it.

  Out of his depth. He was completely and utterly out of his depth.

  With a deep breath, he pulled his battered station wagon to a stop in front of the house and climbed out. If they didn’t want him to stay, he’d head back into Taos. It wasn’t a big deal.

  It felt like one.

  Terracotta pavers made a path to the door. It was all so Southwestern, Cyan couldn’t stop the smile as he pushed the doorbell.

  Footsteps—most likely female from the clicking sound they made—approached, and the wooden door swung open. Cyan had expected an older woman, maybe carrying an extra ten pounds, with silver hair. The woman in front of him was young—thirty on the outside—and had a sassy cap of short black hair on her head. Her skin was tan, and she was tall enough to look him in the eye. Her expression blended curiosity and annoyance.

  He was gaping. Cyan dragged his thoughts together—he’d seen beautiful women before, so there was no rational reason for this one to be affecting him—and cleared his throat. “I’m looking for Betsy. Or Wayne. Hewitt.”

  She lifted a single eyebrow. “And you are?”

  “Cyan. Also Hewitt. Their grandson?”

  The woman blinked and the tiniest hint of a frown formed on her lips. “I’ll see if Betsy’s available for you.”

  The door shut in his face. Cyan blew out a breath. He hadn’t missed the implication that Betsy might not be willing to see him. There was no reason for that. At least, not that he knew of. Did they have people claiming to be their grandchild show up every day?

  The door was flung open, and a woman who bore a much closer resemblance to what he’d pictured flew through it, her arms extended. “Cyan? You’re here! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”

  He chuckled and returned her hug, patting her shoulders and trying to ease back. “I wasn’t sure I was until this morning.”

  “Still, you could’ve called. Or texted.” Her eyes danced. “I’m getting better at texting. Where’d you come from today?”

  “Durango. It’s not a bad drive.”

  “You must be famished. It’s nearly lunch anyway. Let’s go see if Maria has something you can eat. Come in. Wayne’s going to be so excited you’re here. He’s in town this morning.” She looped her arm through his and dragged him into the house while she spoke.

  “It’s okay that I came?” Cyan took in the warm, wood floors and southwestern art on the walls as they crossed the entry hall and a huge open living room before taking two steps up to a tiled kitchen.

  “It’s more than okay. It’s a delight. You sit here.” Betsy patted a stool at the counter and frowned. “Now, where did Maria get to?”

  “I’m right here.” The woman who’d answered the door at first stepped out of an alcove. Pantry? She flicked a glance at Cyan and her mouth turned down. “He’s really your grandson?”

  “Don’t let her manner fool you, Maria’s as sweet as they come once she gets to know you. She just doesn’t like being interrupted when she’s fixing lunch.” Betsy patted Cyan’s hand and beamed at Maria. “Of course he is. He’s the spitting image of his father, too.”

  Now it was Cyan’s turn to frown. People who knew his dad said that. A lot. But it wasn’t something he focused on. He loved his dad, but he didn’t want anyone thinking he was a cookie cutter replica. “There’s some of my mom in me as well.”

  “Oh honey, of course there is.” Betsy studied his face. “I meant it as a compliment. Anyway, Maria, meet my grandson Cyan. Cyan, this is Maria Sanchez. She keeps us running, fed, and organized.”

  “I’m the housekeeper. That’s what she’s trying to say.” Maria offered a tight smile. “One more for lunch?”

  “If you made enough, otherwise I can fix him a sandwich.”

  “I have a big pot of posole on, there’s plenty. Hope you like green chiles.” Maria took a wooden spoon and stirred the enormous stewpot that steamed on the stove.

  “I don’t know whether I do or not, but I guess I’ll find out. I appreciate you feeding me.” Cyan clasped his hands together on the counter.

  “How long can you stay?” Betsy slid onto the stool beside him. “I know Wayne will want a chance to meet you.”

  Cyan shrugged. “I don’t have any plans. I can work from wherever I am as long as there’s internet.”

  “That must be nice. What do you do?” Maria tapped the spoon and set it aside.

  “I do computer security consulting. Basically, the organization I work for is hired by other companies to make sure their networks aren’t easily breached from outside. Sometimes I need to go on site for a day or two, but generally I can work with the IT people they have and do everything else remotely. I like the flexibility.”

  Maria’s smile was a little looser this time. “Who wouldn’t? Lunch is about ready, Betsy, if you want to go ring the bell.”

  Cyan watched his grandmother hop off the stool and stride from the room. Grandmother. It was still odd to wrap his mind around that. He focused his attention on Maria and enjoyed the sensation of his heart speeding up. She was pretty, and a little prickly, but that could be fun in the right circumstances. “What got you into housekeeping?”

  She laughed and tugged the ladle from a tall canister holding all manner of serving implements. “I don’t think anyone goes into housekeeping on purpose. I was halfway through my undergraduate degree when I got pregnant. I dropped out of college and ended up here. I used to come up here for riding lessons when I was younger, camp, too, with the church. I accepted Jesus at a bonfire one night right here on the ranch. In many ways, Wayne and Betsy have been better to me than anyone in my family, so I knew I could come here, lick my wounds, and figure out what was next with no judgment. Calvin’s seven now, and this is the only home he’s known. Even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t do that to him.”

  She had a son. A seven-year-old. That made her about his age—within a year or two certainly. Surprisingly, the fact that she had a child didn’t immediately dampen his interest like it normally would. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.” Maria didn’t look up from ladling thick stew into bowls.

  “How does it work to do the Jesus thing, have a kid, and not be married?” His sister, Azure, was always slipping little comments about Jesus into their conversations. So were his grandparents, for that matter. While he’d never been adamantly opposed to the idea of God like his dad, he hadn’t seen the question as something that mattered to him until recently.

  Maria sighed and set the ladle aside. “You’re not a Christian.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he still felt compelled to answer. “No. My sister Azure would say she’s working on me.”

  That got a tiny smile to flitter across her lips. “Good for her. I knew I liked her when she visited last week. As for your question, I guess the short answer is: it shouldn’t. But, thankfully, God has grace and forgives our sin when we repent. I messed up, but God redeemed me.”

  Cyan nodded. Maybe step one was accepting someone else’s definition of sin. Why did sex fall into that category? If it was something God made, then why was it sin? He could get behind calling lying and stealing sin, most of
the time. Of course, there were exceptions, weren’t there? What if the truth was more damaging? He watched Maria slide a huge pan of golden cornbread out of the oven. Before he could decide on what to say next, three men clomped into the room and started pulling out stools. Skipping behind them, chattering a million miles an hour to Betsy, was a little boy who was the spitting image of Maria.

  “Everyone, before we say grace and dig into that amazing smelling lunch, I’d like to introduce you to my grandson, Cyan. Cyan, these are the guys. They handle the horses and the upkeep on the fences, that sort of thing. I’ll let them introduce themselves while you eat. And this,” she rested her hand on the boy’s head, “is Calvin.”

  Calvin grinned and scampered to the only empty stool at the kitchen bar. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Cyan glanced at the group and searched for words.

  “Let’s pray.” Betsy shot him a wink before bowing her head.

  Right. Bow his head. Eyes closed, too, right? He darted a look around before squeezing his eyelids shut and wondering again why he’d come here.

  2

  Maria kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the couch in the little two-bedroom cabin she shared with Calvin. Betsy had shooed her out of the main house after she’d finished cleaning up from lunch. There were still chores to do, but they’d keep. They always did. If Betsy wanted time with her grandson without someone else around, well, that was her prerogative. Cyan—and wasn’t that an odd name?—was someone who seemed like it’d be fun to spend time with. Not that she was looking for any sort of relationship. It didn’t—wouldn’t—matter that something about him set off pleasant little tingles in her stomach. And if she was thinking about tingles, it’s good she had a little break. She didn’t have time for tingles.