“Thank you. It’s nice to finally have a chance to meet you. I’ve heard a bit about you.”
Responding to Pace’s wry tone, Lucas chuckled. “I imagine you have,” he muttered, glancing at the stern-faced woman hovering nearby. She had positioned herself rather protectively between Lucas and a couple of teenagers Lucas assumed to be Savannah’s twins. “Hello, Ernestine.”
His widowed aunt-by-marriage nodded stiffly. “Lucas. What brings you back to Honoria? We noticed you didn’t make it back for your father’s funeral last spring.”
Savannah rolled her eyes. “Mother...”
Ernestine exhaled impatiently. “All right, I won’t say anything more. I just can’t help wondering what he’s after, showing up now after all these years.”
“My inheritance, of course,” Lucas answered, his voice hard. “I’m here to claim my share of the McBride legacy.”
Since the McBride legacy had been one of scandal rather than fortune, Ernestine was left with very little to say in response.
Savannah quickly introduced Lucas to her twins, Miranda and Michael. Not knowing what to say to the wide-eyed adolescents, Lucas nodded and murmured something he hoped was sufficient.
Bobbie towed him then to another corner of the room where her sons, Trevor and Trent, waited. Trevor, married and the father of a small son, had a political appointment of some sort in Washington, D.C. Lucas thought his cousin looked very much the young politician with his GQ clothes and expensive haircut, but he seemed pleasant enough when he shook Lucas’s hand and introduced his pregnant, picture-perfect wife.
Trent, the youngest of the McBride cousins at twenty-two, was a senior at the Air Force academy, as was evident from his military haircut and board-straight posture.
“I remember you,” he said, shaking Lucas’s hand. “You taught me to ride my bike.”
“I did?” Lucas frowned. “Are you sure?”
Trent chuckled. “Yeah. Dad had about given up because I was so afraid of falling that I screamed every time he let go of the bike. You waited until he went inside, then you plopped me down on the seat, pointed me downhill and let go. I was too intimidated by you to argue and too afraid of falling to ignore the instructions you yelled after me. By the time I got to the bottom of the hill, I was balancing like a pro.”
Lucas sort of remembered now. It was just a bit hard to reconcile his memory of a tearful, towheaded little boy with this tall, self-assured young man.
Family. Funny how he was beginning to feel a part of this one again, after spending so many years on his own.
A small hand slipped suddenly into Lucas’s. He looked down to find Clay Davenport gazing up at him.
“I asked Santa for a new bike for Christmas,” the boy reminded him eagerly. “Will you help me ride it if I get one, Uncle Lucas?”
Rather touched by the boy’s gesture, Lucas nodded. “Sure, kid. But you have to promise to wear a helmet every time you ride.”
“Even on hot days?” Clay asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Every single time,” Lucas replied firmly. “Riding a bike without a helmet is totally uncool.”
Clay squared his shoulders, making an effort to look as “cool” as possible, for a snub-nosed eightyear-old. “I’ll wear a helmet all the time, Uncle Lucas. I promise.”
He nodded in satisfaction. “Good.”
“Once again,” Wade murmured, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders, “you’re being pretty confident that Santa’s going to bring you a bike.”
Clay smiled winningly. “I’ve been very good this year.”
Wade chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “We’ll see if Santa agrees.”
“I imagine everyone’s getting hungry,” Bobbie announced, clapping her hands for attention. “Let’s get the food out so we can eat.”
Having now met and been greeted by everyone, Lucas found himself being treated with the same casual warmth as the others—almost as if it hadn’t been fifteen years since he’d last joined them for Christmas dinner. But even as he mingled with his family, he found himself thinking of Rachel, and wondering what it would be like if she were here with him at the McBride family gathering.
HER STRENGTH drained from the exertion of attending the church candlelight service, Rachel’s grandmother went to bed almost immediately after they returned home. Rachel found herself sitting alone in the quiet house with several hours of Christmas Eve still lying ahead of her.
She tried for a while to concentrate on the holiday movies playing on TV. They couldn’t hold her attention. Nor could the mystery novel she tried to read after turning the television off. She paced restlessly through the house, knowing it would be a waste of time to try to go to bed. She wasn’t even close to being sleepy.
You know where to find me. If you want to find me.