Small Town Christmas Read online

  Sam lifted her Santa mug. “To new beginnings.”

  Chapter Three

  “You want to what?” Ethan stared at his parents as if they had lost their minds. It was a possibility. Winter on a farm could make people a little stir-crazy. Ever since returning from town, Ethan had felt like he’d swallowed a bucket of bees. Of course, that had more to do with Sam Henderson than two hundred acres of farmland.

  His mother reached out and patted his hand, which rested on the linen tablecloth his great-great-grandmother had brought over from Germany. “I know this is a shock, Ethan, but it’s not like we’re fallin’ off the face of the earth. We’re just moving to South Padre Island.”

  “Just?” Ethan pulled his hand out from under hers and got up from the table, pacing back and forth. “What about the farm? The animals? The folks of Bramble?” He turned and stared at his parents. “Me?”

  The weathered skin around his father’s green eyes scrunched up. “You’re thirty years old, boy. You still scared of the dark?”

  His mother jumped back in. “Of course he’s not scared of the dark.” She shot Ethan a skeptical look before addressing her husband. “I told you we shouldn’t just drop the news on him, Jeb—especially on Christmas Eve.”

  “Hell.” His father got up from his chair. “I thought the boy would be excited to finally get rid of us. I figured that was why he’d never married or brought a girl home besides that cute little Sam Henderson.” He studied Ethan again. “You ain’t one of them…”

  “No!” The word came out louder than Ethan intended, and he quickly tacked on a “sir.”

  “Then what’s your problem?” his father asked. “You ain’t worried about being able to handle the farm, are you? ’Cause you’ve been doin’ most of the work ever since I fell off that danged ladder and screwed up my back.”

  “I just think it’s crazy, is all,” Ethan said. “Why would you and Mama want to live on a beach when you’ve spent your entire life on a farm?”

  “Maybe that’s why,” his mother said in the soft voice that had always soothed Ethan. She patted the table. “Come sit down, Ethan, and quit pacing like an expectant cat.”

  Begrudgingly, he sat back down in the chair, but couldn’t help crossing his arms and staring belligerently at the toes of his work boots.

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” his mother said, “your father and I aren’t exactly spring chickens. We were in our late thirties when God finally blessed us with you.” Since Ethan’s hands were tucked under his armpits, she reached out and patted his knee. “And we couldn’t be more proud of the man you’ve grown into. But I agree with your father. There comes a time in every man’s life when he needs some space. And since you don’t seem to be in any hurry to fly the coop—we are.”

  “Fly the coop?” Ethan’s jaw dropped as he stared at his mother. “I stayed for you—for you and Daddy because I didn’t think you two could make a go of the farm without me.”

  “Now, don’t lie, boy,” his father said. “You get flustered just walkin’ into Josephine’s Diner.”

  Ethan jumped back up from the chair and sputtered out the words. “F-flustered or not, if I’d known how you felt, I would’ve left a long time ago to pursue my own dreams.”

  “Now, don’t be gettin’ all upset, Ethan.” His mother stood up and sent his father a stern look. “What your father means is that anyone can see that you were born to be a farmer. It’s obvious in the way you love animals and get so darned excited during harvest. But if you want to sell the farm, your father and I will support that.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s time for all of us to leave the hard work behind and have us a little fun.”

  Fun? First Sam and now his parents. Ethan was really starting to hate that word. Fun was something kids had, not grown adults who had responsibilities. He ignored the fact that he wasn’t exactly acting like an adult either.

  “We’re not selling the farm,” he said. “I’ll figure out a way to buy you out so you can race off to South Padre and have some fun on the beach.”

  His parents exchanged bright smiles.

  “That won’t be necessary,” his daddy said. “Back when you was born, we put a little money aside, and since you never used it for college…”

  The tires of the truck hit another pothole, but Ethan still didn’t slow down. He had never been the violent type, but he couldn’t help thumping the steering wheel with his fist as he turned onto the highway that led into Bramble.

  A college fund? His parents had put money in a college fund and never mentioned a word? Okay, so maybe at eighteen he hadn’t exactly acted like he wanted to go to college. And maybe some of that had to do with being a little scared. But what good were parents if they couldn’t force a shy, backward kid out the door?

  Of course, it had worked out real well for them. They had gotten years of free labor and now had a nice, fat nest egg to buy a motor home so they could “have fun” in some South Padre retirement village. Well, maybe it was time for Ethan to have a little fun too. He pressed harder on the accelerator and watched the skinny gauge of the speedometer inch up the miles per hour. Except when it got to seventy-five, the old truck started to shake so badly that he had to ease back down to sixty.

  Ethan still made it to Bramble in record time. He’d planned on heading over to Lowell’s barn to check on the animals people had brought in for the nativity scene, but instead he pulled into Bootlegger’s Bar. He’d been to the bar before—every person over eighteen years of age had been in Bootlegger’s at one time or another. Ethan just wasn’t what you would call a regular, which explained the surprised faces when he ambled in the door.

  Of course, Ethan was a little surprised himself when he looked at the bar and saw who was sitting there. The beginning line of a joke popped into his head: An angel, a beer-bellied wiseman, Joseph, and a pig walked into a bar…

  “Well, hey, Ethan!” Kenny Gene waved him over so exuberantly that his wing clipped Mayor Harley Sutter’s wiseman crown and knocked it to the floor.

  Harley sent him an annoyed look before leaning down to pick it up. “So what brings you to Boot’s, Ethan?” He readjusted the plastic crown on his balding head. “I thought you were supposed to be gettin’ the animals over to the church.”

  “I am. But I thought I’d have me a beer first.” Or six, Ethan thought as he slipped onto the stool next to Joseph. Even in his sour mood, Ethan couldn’t help grinning at the floral sheets draped around his friend Colt Lomax—especially when the man had once been the biggest bad boy in Bramble. But before Ethan could do a little friendly teasing, the baby pig sitting on Colt’s lap released a squeal of delight and launched himself at Ethan.

  Ethan laughed as his face was covered in wet pig kisses. “I’ve missed you too, Sherman. But it looks like you’ve been well taken care of.”

  “That’s putting it lightly,” Colt said. He took another drink from his long-necked bottle, the pink-flowered sheet sliding up his tattooed arm. “Hope and my sister, Shirlene, spoil that pig rotten.”

  Ethan was glad to hear it. Ever since he’d given the pig to Hope as a gift, he’d had second thoughts. Sherman was special—the runt of the litter that Ethan hadn’t expected to live. But the tiny piglet had surprised him. And what Sherman lacked in physical size and strength, he’d made up for in brains. And not just brains, but a sixth sense about people. Even now, he studied Ethan with his intense beady eyes, almost as if he could feel Ethan’s emotional turmoil.

  “I’m okay, boy,” Ethan whispered close to his ear. Still, Sherman continued to stare at him until Manny, the bartender, brought over the beer and a bowl of mixed nuts. And food could distract Sherman from just about anything.

  While the pig devoured the nuts, Ethan turned back to Colt. “So I guess Darla is responsible for your Joseph’s outfit?”

  “I wish,” Colt grumbled. “If Darla had made it, I could’ve gotten out of it. But how do you tell your wife of two weeks—your pregnant wife, no less—that you aren’t go