LITMIR.BIZ

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didn’t know he had. Until he’d been unable to stop himself and kissed her.

      That was finished now. Logan’s universe was his nephews, the land, the livestock and anyone connected to the twins, like their preschool teacher and pediatrician, the nice children’s librarian at the public library and Miss Karen, the grandmotherly sitter he’d hired to replace Clementine. Some small talk with those people, and Logan could go back to necessary isolation, to finding a space he could exist between trying to make sense of the letter and forgetting it entirely. After Bethany, then losing his brother and then the letter, Logan was done, just plain done. He wanted as much distance between himself and the rest of the world as possible.

      And the rest of the world at this point was really just one person: Clementine Hurley. She made him want things he was trying so hard not to want, not to think about or care about. He thought people couldn’t be trusted before he’d gotten Parsons’s letter? Logan had had no idea that the truth of your existence, how you came about in the world, who shared your blood, your DNA, could be just wiped clean. That your own parents, your good, kind, hardworking parents, could withhold something so vital, so fundamental.

      That you weren’t who you always thought you were. Sometimes late at night, when Logan would try to wrap his mind around what burned him most, that seemed to be it.

      “I wish Clementine could come help us decorate the tree,” Henry said. “I like Miss Karen, but I like Clementine better.”

      “Me too,” Harry said.

      Logan sighed inwardly, hating that he was depriving the boys of someone who meant so much to them. And with so much loss in their young lives, he’d taken her away from them and it wasn’t fair. The twins hadn’t seen Clementine since a few days after he’d fired her when Henry had gotten lost in the woods for a very scary half hour and Clementine had been part of the search party. They’d lit up at the sight of her and asked about her often.

      Wait a minute. He stopped in his tracks and pulled a folded-up flyer from his back pocket. He’d almost forgotten.

      Children of Blue Gulch, ages 2–17! Come try out for the Children’s Christmas Spectacular. Blue Gulch Town Hall. 3:30–5:30. Auditions held Wednesday and Thursday. Director: Clementine Hurley...

      He glanced at his watch. It was Thursday and 5:25. If he hurried, he might just make it. His boys could be in the show and have their time with Clementine off Logan’s turf.

      “Hey, guys,” Logan said on the way out of the barn. “Remember when I asked last week if you two want to be in the town Christmas show? Would you like to audition tonight? You have to sing ‘Jingle Bells.’”

      He’d taught them the song the past week, ever since the flyers had gone up. But they couldn’t remember anything past “Jingle Bells” and sometimes the words way and sleigh. Heck, they were only three.

      “Jingle bells, jingle—” Henry started, then scrunched up his face.

      “Uncle Logan, what comes after jingle the second time?” Harry asked.

      Logan smiled. Clementine had her work cut out for her. But he wouldn’t have to deal with her in his house, in his living room, in his kitchen or fantasize about her being in his bedroom. Three times a week for a few weeks, he’d drop off the twins at the Blue Gulch town hall, pick them up and that would be that. The kiss was a thing of the past.

      When you didn’t know who the hell you were, when your trust in the people who’d been closest to you had been obliterated, how could you open up your life to someone? You couldn’t.

      * * *

      Clementine Hurley listened to the little girl sing the first stanza of “Jingle Bells,” her heart about to burst. Emma was just five years old and she’d stumbled over the words bob tails ring as almost every kid Clementine “auditioned” had.

      Emma hung her head, her eyes filling with tears and she stopped singing.

      Clementine rushed up to the stage in the community room of the town hall. “Hey,” she soothed. “You were doing great! Bob tails ring doesn’t exactly flow off the tongue.”

      “But I don’t get to be in the show, right?” Emma said, her blue eyes teary. “I messed up.”

      “You do get to be in the show,” Clementine assured her. “Every kid who tries out for the Blue Gulch Children’s Christmas Spectacular gets a part. Every single one,” she added, touching a finger to Emma’s nose.

      Emma’s face brightened. “Can I try the song again?”

      “Sure can,” Clementine said, smiling. She headed back to her seat, a folding chair a few feet from the stage.

      She glanced at the short line of kids still waiting to audition. Between yesterday and today, Clementine had listened to over thirty kids sing the first two stanzas of “Jingle Bells.” Five kids left and then she could start organizing the holiday show into parts. The woman who usually directed the kids’ show had become a full-time caregiver for her ailing mother and had no time for extras. She’d asked Clementine, known around town for being an ace babysitter and great with kids of all ages, to step in and she had, without hesitation. Clementine had accepted for a few reasons. Now twenty-five years old, Clementine herself had been in the town’s children’s Christmas show since she was old enough to remember, so not only was she familiar with how the show worked, it was a nice way for her to give back to the community. And anything that would keep her mind off Logan Grainger was a good thing. The holiday show would keep her very, very busy.

      Too busy to think of a very handsome rancher with thick dark hair, blue eyes that made her forget what day it was and a kindness with the young nephews he was raising that had once made her cry. She’d fallen hard for Logan Grainger, so hard and so deeply, and when he’d finally, finally, finally kissed her, she’d almost melted in a puddle on the floor. She’d felt a joy inside her in that moment that she’d never before felt. And then fifteen seconds later, it was all over. All over. The kiss. The hope. The maybe. Her job as his sitter.

      All she knew was that he’d gotten a letter that had changed something. He’d gone from the usual Logan, albeit one who finally kissed her after a few months of very clear chemistry between them, to closed off. She’d tried many times to talk to him, to get him to talk to her, to tell her what was going on, to let her back in. But he wouldn’t. That was three months ago.

      “With a bellbell bell and a—” Emma sang, the tears starting again.

      Aww. The first two stanzas of “Jingle Bells” were a lot to remember for little kids. “I have an idea,” Clementine said, standing up and going back over to the stage. “Let’s sing it together, then you’ll try it one more time.”

      Clementine knelt down and took Emma’s hand. “And a one and a two and a... Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh, o’er the fields we go, laughing all the way, bells on bob tails ring, making spirits bright, what fun it is to ride and sing, a sleighing song tonight. Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.”

      Clementine held up her hand, palm out. “High five, kiddo. You did it! Now you try again, just you.”

      Emma sang the bob tails ring part just right that time, then ran over to Clementine’s assistant for the show, Louisa Perkins, who also happened to be the foster mother at the group home where Emma lived. All six foster children had auditioned. Just as Clementine had when she was a foster kid in Blue Gulch before Charlaine and Clinton Hurley had taken her in and then adopted her. Clementine admired Louisa, amazed the woman gave so much of her time. Clementine had been in a few foster homes, one decent, two not so good, and it warmed her heart to know Louisa and her husband were wonderful parents to kids who needed them.

      Clementine sat back down in her chair and called up the next child to audition.

      “...bells on bob tails ring...” the ten-year-old sang without a hitch.

      Clementine breathed a sigh of relief. The holiday show would

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