A Daddy for Christmas (Christmas in Eden Valley #1) - Page 75/93

Instead, he must be like the deer, too, running from the threat of danger in order to be with this woman and these children he’d grown to care about.

Of course, there was another choice. He could go back to being alone, pushing away the past, refusing to face the future.

His heart crowded against his ribs. He could not remain a prisoner of his past.

But would he ever find the life he wanted with Clara and her children? The wisest thing might be to leave them to their plans and seek a way to fulfill his.

Chapter Seventeen

Clara could think of many reasons she should end this evening. Not the least of which was her reluctance to do so. Blue had kept her on a wild wagon ride of emotions all day. From worry if he’d gone to concern that he was angry at her, to the pleasant feelings she got when he spoke about his family, to the warmth she felt at his touch—it all pulled her dangerously away from her resolve to go to Fort Calgary.

Deer ran to stay safe. She must do the same.

But there was no need for running tonight, so she kept her hand on Blue’s arm and allowed herself to feel sheltered, protected and cared for. Emotions that she normally denied herself. Not that she’d allow her wayward heart to divert her from what she must do. She would simply enjoy the moment.

They continued walking along the edge of the river until they came to a narrow trail leading upward to the bank. The girls scampered up, and Blue and Clara followed. The sunset filled the sky with reds and pinks, purples and oranges. The snowcapped mountains blushed with color.

She gasped. “How beautiful.”

They stood side by side, admiring the display.

“I wish life could always be like this.” She couldn’t say exactly what she meant. Beautiful as the sunset? Peaceful as the walk along the river? A moment shared with someone she’d grown to care for?

All of that, she realized.

He planted his hands on her shoulders, sending warmth and longing clear through her. Slowly, he turned her around to look back from where they’d come. “What do you see? Describe the scene.”

She studied the view for a moment. “A winter scene. A partially frozen river, edged with ice. It’s all black and white. A little bleak.” It filled her with a sense of loneliness and despair.

He turned her back to the sunset. “Now what do you see?”

She smiled. “A burst of colors. The mountains are majestic. Looking this direction makes me happy inside. Hopeful even. As if God is smiling at me.”

He chuckled. “I like that thought.” He turned her so they faced each other. He looked into her eyes, searching, examining.

She let him take his time. Wondered what he sought and if he’d find it.

He drew in a slow breath. “Clara, we’re standing in the same spot. It’s the same time of day. So what’s the difference between the bleak on one side and the hopeful on the other?”

She got the feeling he searched for the answer as much as asked her for it. “Why, I suppose the direction I look makes the difference.”

At the way his eyes darkened with—dare she believe?—hope and understanding, she laid her hands on his chest.

He caught her fingers between his and held them there. “We can control which direction we look, can’t we?” He grew thoughtful. “Life is a lot like that.”

She didn’t say anything as she considered his words. It was easy to see how this truth applied to his life. For him, it was simply choosing which direction he looked—to the past or to the future.

Perhaps a future shared with someone?

Sourness stung the back of her throat. Life was not as simple for her. Her choices were dictated by others—mostly her father.

“I want to be able to choose.”

 “Then choose. Stop letting your father control you. Decide what you want and do it.”

Oh, how she wished she could. An ache the size of the sky overhead seized her heart. “My choices must always be secondary to the needs of the girls.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it without uttering a word. He dipped his head until their foreheads touched.

She took comfort in the gesture. The thought of going on, leaving him behind, made her knees weak.

The sound of her daughters playing gave her the strength to pull away. Reluctantly, she slipped her hands from his.