Christmas Catch-Up VIII (River's End Ranch) Read online

  Christmas Catch-Up

  Book Eight

  by Amelia C. Adams

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  Have you missed the couples from River’s End Ranch? Want to know what they’ve been up to since they got their happily ever after? Here are six little episodes to show you what they’re doing this holiday season and how their lives have changed since falling in love. In this volume, you'll read about Mike and Whitney, Alicia and Oz, Jamal and Kerry, Andie and Zack, Paislee and Logan, and you might even get a return peek at Mark and Heidi. Merry Christmas from River’s End Ranch!

  With thanks to my beta readers—Amy, Barbara, Cheryl, Joseph, Mary, Shelby, and Tammy.

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill.

  Table of Contents:

  Mike and Whitney

  Alicia and Oz

  Jamal and Kerry

  Andie and Zack

  Paislee and Logan

  Mark and Heidi

  Mike and Whitney

  (Poinsettia Promises)

  Whitney startled when she heard the sound of a truck pulling up outside the floral shop, and she ran over to the door and flung it wide.

  “Oh. It’s just you,” she said when she saw Oz, the shop’s delivery driver.

  “I’m sorry I’m not more exciting.” He stomped the snow off his boots before following her back into the shop. “Maybe I should learn to juggle or something?”

  “You’re plenty exciting—I’m sorry. I just thought you were the floral wholesaler.”

  Oz looked at her, a furrow between his brows. “Your flowers still haven’t come?”

  “No, and I’m starting to panic. I’m getting married tomorrow, Oz—tomorrow—and if my flowers aren’t here, I won’t have time to put them together, and I can do without the decorations, but I really need my bouquet because every bride has to have a bouquet because it’s tradition, and I only plan on getting married once, and I want it to be special, and—”

  Oz put a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe. Breathe, crazy woman.”

  She did her best to mind.

  “Listen. As long as you and Mike and Pastor Kevin are all in the same place at the same time, this wedding will happen. It doesn’t matter about flowers or guests or refreshments or any of it.”

  She nodded. “I know. I really do. I’ve just done so many wedding flowers for other people that I’ve had this picture in my head of what my own wedding should be like, and the thought of giving that up . . . Mike’s a wonderful man and I love him to death, but can’t I have Mike and flowers?”

  Oz laughed. “I get it, and I know how wedding jitters can be—Alicia was a mess right before we got married. I, on the other hand, was as cool as a cucumber.”

  “I’m sure you were,” Whitney replied wryly.

  “Okay, let’s talk this through. I’m assuming you’ve already called the wholesaler and asked about the truck.”

  “Yes, and they said it was scheduled to arrive at ten.”

  Oz glanced at the clock on the wall. “And it’s two now.”

  “Yes! Four hours late! Can you see why I’m panicking? And even if it showed up right now, I’ll be up all night doing the flowers. Of course, I probably won’t sleep tonight anyway because that’s how I am the night before something huge happens, but I should at least be able to pretend to sleep.”

  “Because pretending to sleep is restful?”

  “Exactly! Well, it’s more restful than doing flowers.”

  Just then, the phone rang, and Whitney reached out to answer it. “Pushing Daisies. How can I help you?”

  “Is this Whitney?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Whitney, this is Ralph—we talked a little while ago about your floral delivery.”

  “Yes, I remember.” She tried to keep her voice cool, but her stomach was churning.

  “We’ve run into a problem. Our delivery truck broke down, and it’s not looking like we’re going to be able to make it to your shop today after all.”

  “But . . .” She swallowed. “Those are the flowers for my own personal wedding.”

  “Oh, no. I’m really sorry to hear that, but there’s nothing we can do. The truck is stuck in Lewiston, and there’s a huge snowstorm blowing in. The driver said he couldn’t even see the road when he called. Getting parts for the repair is going to take a full day—I just can’t fill your order, Whitney. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I blame Mother Nature and all the snow fairies.” And she didn’t even care if Jaclyn heard her say that. If fairies were to blame, they were to blame.

  She set the phone down, leaned over, and draped herself across the counter. “This is the worst wedding ever.”

  “No flowers?” Oz asked.

  “No flowers,” she replied.

  The bell above the door jingled, but Whitney didn’t have the energy to lift her head and see who was there. “Welcome to Pushing Daisies,” she said, mumbling into the counter. “How can I help you?”

  “You can tell me what’s wrong,” Mike’s voice said.

  She pulled herself upright and looked into the eyes of the most wonderful, amazing, handsome fiancé the world had ever known. “Our wedding, and therefore our entire marriage, is doomed.”

  “Oh? And what doomed it?”

  “Our wedding flowers are in Lewiston in a snowstorm in a broken truck. We have no flowers, Mike. Look.” She pointed at the cooler. “I’ve used everything in there to fill Christmas orders. I have a handful of eucalyptus and a scraggly piece of baby’s breath left. That’s it, and it would make the worst bouquet in the history of everything. I’m just . . . I’m just trying not to cry.”

  Mike came around the counter and tugged her into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he said into her hair. “You know I’ll marry you with or without flowers, right?”

  “Of course, and yes, I know that being together is the most important thing. But I’m a florist, Mike. How can I get married without flowers?”

  He reached over to the counter, grabbed a tissue, and handed it to her. “Why don’t you go upstairs for a few minutes and make some peppermint tea or something? Oz and I will answer the phone while you’re gone.”

  “I want cocoa,” she said, sniffling into her tissue.

  He smiled. “Okay, cocoa. We’ll be fine without you. Relax and rest for a minute.”

  “Okay.”

  She climbed the stairs that led from the shop up to her apartment. She’d already moved a bunch of things over to Mike’s place to get ready for the wedding, but she’d always keep a kitchen stocked and ready to go here because it was so great for lunch breaks. Grabbing a mug and filling it with milk, she made her cocoa, trying to calm down. This was just the worst—it really was. Even worse than if she’d somehow ruined her dress or the caterer canceled. Flowers were that important to her.

  ***

  The rest of the afternoon passed like a kidney stone. Mike was gone when Whitney came downstairs fifteen minutes later, which made her sad because she’d wanted to say goodbye to him. As if she needed another reason to be sad.

  “No phone calls,” Oz reported. “Do you want me to grab a broom and sweep out the cooler? You’ve got a lot of pine needles in there.”

  “Yes, please.” She grabbed a rag and started dusting, not because things were dusty, but because she needed something to do with her hands. All the orders had been delivered, and there wasn’t a whole lot left to do.

  She closed the shop at six, flipping the sign over and wiping tears from her eyes. There had to be a way to make this work—this was her wedding, and she wasn’t going to let it be ruined. She’d brought in some poinsettia
s the week before and put them on the registration desk in the bunkhouse—she’d just cut a few blooms and carry those. She would have her bouquet.

  She was just about to head up the stairs when she heard a car horn. It couldn’t have anything to do with her, so she ignored it, but then it sounded again. She turned and saw that it was Mike, his car covered with a fresh layer of snow.

  She went outside and greeted him. “Hi there. I missed you earlier—I wanted to say goodbye to you.”

  “I’m sorry about that, but trust me, it was for a very good reason.” He opened the back door of his car and gave a bow with a flourish. “Merry Christmas—and happy wedding.”

  “What are you talking about?” She stepped over the snowbank that had been scooped up along the curb and walked up to the car. Lying in bundles on the back seat were piles and piles of flowers—the wedding flowers.

  “What . . . how . . .?” She looked up into Mike’s grinning face. “But the truck is broken down in a snowstorm. How did this happen?”

  “Well, after I sent you upstairs this afternoon, I knew I couldn’t leave things as they were. Oz said the guy from the floral warehouse had just called, so I hit caller ID, asked him where the truck was, and I drove out to find it.” He made it sound so simple, but her jaw dropped.

  “In a blizzard? Are you nuts? You could have been killed . . . and they probably wouldn’t be able to deliver your funeral flowers, either!”

  He laughed. “I have chains on my tires, and four-wheel drive. I would have turned around if things got too dangerous, but it was fine.”

  “I honestly don’t know whether to strangle you or kiss you silly.”

  “Well, I know which one I’d prefer.” He reached out and took her hands. “Whitney, I’d marry you in the middle of a landfill surrounded by seagulls—it just doesn’t matter to me. But I know how much these flowers mean to you, and yes, I’ll do everything in my power to give you the wedding of your dreams. You’ve already given me mine by agreeing to be the bride.”

  Tears ran down her cheeks again. “I just can’t believe you did that,” she said, looking at the flowers, then back at him. “No one on earth could possibly be as wonderful as you are.”

  “I’m sure it’s possible, but not likely.” He grinned, then leaned in and kissed her. “All right, tell me how to help. These all go in water, yes?”

  “Yes, they do.” She paused. “Have I ever shown you how to clean roses?”

  “No.”

  “Well, if you’re serious about helping me, you’re about to learn.”

  “I’m very serious. Lead the way, my future wife.”

  Alicia and Oz

  (Candy Crush)

  Oz and Alicia sat side by side, listening to the Sunday-before-Christmas sermon. Alicia had tucked her arm through Oz’s, and he was pretty well perfectly happy except for one thing—Janice Morgan didn’t look so good.

  She and her three little boys were regulars on the last pew, and he’d never seen them miss a Sunday since he and Alicia had started attending themselves. They enjoyed Pastor Kevin’s sermons out on River’s End Ranch, but they’d wanted something a little closer to their place in Riston, and this congregation had been a great fit—especially when it came to the Morgan boys, who always had mischievous smiles on their faces and reminded Oz so much of himself when he was their age.

  They were halfway through a hymn when Janice started coughing violently and stepped outside. Oz watched over his shoulder as the three boys remained in their pew, not singing, the oldest one’s face clouded with worry.

  “We aren’t in a hurry, are we?” he asked Alicia as they made their way toward the door. “I’d like to speak with the pastor for a minute.”

  “Sure. What’s the matter?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping to find out.”

  They hung back until Pastor Crane was finished shaking hands with the parishioners, and then he invited them into his office. “We always have the best turnout the week before Christmas,” the pastor said with a smile as he took his seat. “Makes me wish Christmas was every week for that reason alone. Now, what can I do for the two of you this nice snowy day?”

  “Actually, I’d like to know what we can do for the Morgans,” Oz said. “I’m not asking you to break any confidences, of course, but Janice doesn’t look well, and I noticed that all their coats are a little thin. Can I write you a check, or is there some other way we could help?”

  Pastor Crane leaned back and steepled his fingers across his stomach. “You could write a check, certainly, and I’d make sure it got where it needed to go. But I think you might enjoy the spirit of the season just a bit more if you participated directly.”

  “What do you mean?” Oz asked.

  “I think he means that we should go shopping for them ourselves,” Alicia said, her eyes alight. “That would be so much fun—can we?”

  Oz laughed. “What do you say, Pastor? My wife wants to play Santa.”

  “That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say.” Pastor Crane reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a list. “My daughter, who makes an excellent spy, paid them a visit the other day and assessed some of their needs. She even finagled out of them what they wanted for gifts. I was planning to hand this list over to the ladies’ organization, but if you’re willing . . .”

  “Of course we are.” Alicia reached across the desk and accepted the list. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Legos, Oz! I haven’t been shopping for Legos in forever.”

  “If the amount is more than you were thinking . . .” Pastor Crane hedged. He was one of the few who knew Oz’s real financial status, but he never pushed them to donate. He always accepted their offerings gratefully, without expectation.

  “I came in here with an open wallet,” Oz replied. “Let’s go shopping.”

  Pastor Crane smiled and came to his feet, his hand outstretched. “Thank you. It’s generosity like this that keeps me reminded of the joys that can be found in the season.” He paused. “What the Morgans need most right now is hope, and I believe you might be just the ones to help them with that.”

  ***

  Alicia read over the list as they walked out to their car. “I’m serious—this is going to be the most fun I’ve had in a long time. But wait—Janice didn’t ask for anything for herself. The stinker.”

  “Why is she a stinker?”

  “Because she’s going to make me cry. Here she is, obviously not feeling good, and she wants everything to be for her boys.” Alicia blinked, trying to keep her tears from rolling down her cheeks.

  “Well, it sounds like we’ll just have to use our own best judgment when it comes to her. She’s about your size, isn’t she?”

  “Probably, but that doesn’t help me at all when it comes to pants. No two women alive on the planet at the same time can wear the same size of pants.” She paused. “So . . . what did you mean when you said your wallet’s open? What kind of budget are we talking here?”

  Oz reached into his pocket and pulled out his debit card, handing it to her. “Have fun.”

  “You realize I have a copy of this exact same card in my purse, right? Why do I need yours?”

  “Because I’m trying to make a grand romantic gesture, and handing you my card is tons more romantic than telling you to get out your own card and use it.”

  She laughed and threw her arms around his waist. “It’s romantic either way. Thank you for thinking of this, Oz. Did you know that your unselfishness is actually one of the reasons why I love you so much?”

  “I thought it was my stunning good looks.”

  “That too, but I admire the way you’re always thinking about other people. And now I get to help.”

  ***

  Oz’s boots crunched on the crystalline snow, even though he was trying to be quiet, and he winced. In the still December air, that sound was twice as loud as it should have been. He glanced over his shoulder toward his Jeep, where Alicia waited for him. They’d turned off the headlights, hoping to ble
nd in with the other cars along the road. But now his boots were going to give everything away.

  He hefted the sacks in his arms—they were sure heavy. He and Alicia had spent half a day shopping, and it had taken them hours more to wrap everything. Now it was time for delivery.

  The moonlight reflected off the snow, keeping it from being completely dark. That was good because he didn’t want to break an ankle, but bad because he’d just realized that the yard where he was going had no hiding spots. He’d have to run for a minute and then duck behind a parked car.

  He checked out the house. There were some lights on in the back, but no one appeared to be in the living room, which was good. He crept up to the porch and set the sacks down. In addition to the toys, coats, and clothing, they’d included a generous gift certificate to the grocery store and another to the pharmacy, and he hoped this would be enough to bring some hope back into the home.

  After taking a deep breath, he reached out, pounded on the door, and took off, his boots thundering on the sidewalk. This would be easy—he just had to make it to that line of cars and hide in their shadows until he was sure the bags had been taken inside. But right behind him, he heard the pattering of little feet, and he turned to see Jimmy, the eight-year-old, following him across the yard.

  “Ahhh!” Oz screamed, grabbing his beanie and pulling it down farther on his head as he ran, trying not to be recognized. “Stop chasing me!”

  He couldn’t tell if Jimmy was wearing shoes or if he’d come out in his bare feet. Either way, Oz had to trust that a wild leap over a ditch would shake his pursuer, and he did it, just managing to keep his balance on the other side. He reached the cars and ducked behind them, then peered out. Jimmy stood on the sidewalk, his hands on his hips, staring into the night before shrugging and heading back into the house, dragging the sacks with him.

  Oz saw the curtains move and a few faces peer through the window before he felt it was safe to leave his hiding spot. When he reached the Jeep and climbed in, Alicia was laughing, wiping tears off her cheeks.