Feels Like Love

Feels Like

Love

A Snow
Valley Romance

By

Jeanette Lewis

For my family.

Loves, always!

This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living
or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is purely coincidental.

Feels Like Love

COPYRIGHT 2014 by Janet
Halling

All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without
written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover Art by Christina
Dymock

Interior Design by
Sadie Anderson

Elidryn Books

Published in the
United States of America

“How
many
weddings are we planning to have?” April’s fiancé Scott cast a horrified look
at the stack of bridal magazines in her arms.

“Shush,”
April said, giving him her best withering stare. “I like to be prepared.” She
fumbled for the handle of the car door and lost her grip on the slippery pile. Two
dozen magazines hit the ground with a splat.

Scott
sighed and began gathering them up. “You know, there’s this wonderful thing
called the Internet. I’ve heard there are all sorts of pictures and articles
and information. You can find anything you want
and
save a few trees in
the process.”

“I
won’t have internet during the whole drive,” April pointed out, “and this is
the perfect chance to get something done.” She opened the door of the red BMW
and slid into the passenger seat.

“Whatever
you say, sweetheart,” Scott smiled. He deposited the magazines, now neatly
stacked, onto her lap and shut the door.

April
wiggled her left hand so the diamond on her finger sparkled in the morning
sunlight. They had been engaged for almost five weeks and this was their first road
trip. True, it was just going home to Snow Valley, Montana to spend Christmas
with her family, but after the stress of finals, it would be nice to get away
and have Scott all to herself.

Well,
sort of. He still had to work on his graduate project, but not the whole time.
Hopefully.

“All
set?” Scott climbed in and turned to her.

April
pushed her blonde curls away from her face and wrinkled her brow thoughtfully.
“Let’s see … suitcase, backpack, computer, phones … did you remember your phone
charger?”

“Phone
charger, check,” Scott replied.

“What
about the presents?” April whipped around to take inventory of the wrapped
gifts piled in the backseat. “Did we get them all?”

“April,
relax. We have everything and if by chance we’ve forgotten something, there are
stores in Snow Valley, right?” Scott was a city boy from Denver and constantly
teased her about her small town roots.

“Duh,”
April rolled her eyes. “It’s not like we’re going to the outback or anything.”

“I
dunno. From the way you make it sound, I’ve been wondering if I’ll have to
churn my own butter.”

“Stop
it,” she threw him a playful smile. “You might have to knit your own sweater,
but we would never make you churn butter.”

He
leaned over to kiss her. “I guess it’s a good thing I already packed
two
sweaters then.”

For
the first part of the drive, Scott listened to talk radio while April thumbed
through her magazines, marking pages that caught her notice.

“I
thought the point was to narrow down your options,” Scott said, glancing at the
forest of sticky tabs bristling from between the pages.

“I
know, but I can’t decide. Do I want the bridesmaids to wear the same dress or
different dresses, but in the same color? Or should they wear totally different
dresses?” April started flipping through the top magazine. “I saw an article
somewhere about how bridesmaids should be allowed to express themselves and
shouldn’t wear cookie cutter dresses. But I think that can look so patchy.” She
wrinkled her brow. “I want it to look like they all go together, but I don’t
want them to look like a chorus line either. I don’t know … maybe they should
be able to add their own touch. Except that it’s
my
wedding. What do you
think?” she finished a little breathlessly.

Scott
shook his head. “Honey, you do whatever you want. I truly do not care what the
bridesmaids are wearing.”

“You
should care; it’s your wedding too.” April drummed her fingers on the magazine
stack. “Did I tell you I’m thinking of changing the colors?”

“Again?”
he sighed.

“I
know. But I remembered the carpet in the church is burgundy and will clash
really badly with coral.”

“We
haven’t decided on
that
church, yet,” Scott said with a slight hint of
exasperation in his voice.

“But
you promised to give it a chance, remember? It really is a neat building; I
think you’ll like it.”

“Whether
or not it’s
neat
isn’t the problem,” Scott replied. “The problem is
asking people to travel all that way. Why can’t we pick someplace more convenient?”

They
had had this discussion many times. Scott may not have cared about bridesmaid
dresses, but he
did
care about where they were married.

But
April had never considered getting married anywhere but the Snow Valley
Community Church. Pastor John was a fixture of her childhood and he always seemed
to take a special interest in the young people of his congregation. Or maybe
that was just April and her friends … after the Outhouse Incident, he seemed to
decide they were in need of his direct supervision.

How
many Sundays had she sat in the chapel and dreamed about walking down the aisle
on her father’s arm, in the perfect white dress, to the perfect music, with her
perfect groom standing at the front, tall and blonde, his brown eyes dancing …

April
wrenched herself out of the daydream. Even if she did get married in Snow
Valley, not
everything
would be the way she’d so often imagined.

She
looked at Scott. His hazel eyes were hidden by sunglasses, but they could dance
at her just as well as brown eyes. No, it wasn’t going to be as she’d dreamed,
but sometimes dreams change.

“Are
you all right?” Scott glanced over.

“Fine,”
April gave him a smile. “Tired, I guess. I stayed up pretty late wrapping presents.”

He
pressed a button on the steering wheel to turn the radio down. “We have a long
drive ahead, why don’t you take a nap?”

“Don’t
you want me to take a turn driving?”

“Not
if you’re tired,” Scott said. “What if you wreck my car?”

April
dropped the pile of bridal magazines onto the floor and twisted to reach her pillow
from the backseat. “Wake me up when you need a break,” she said as she pushed
the pillow up against the window and sank gratefully into its depths.

The
crunch of the tires on gravel woke April and she sat up in time to see Scott
pulling into a gas station.

“Where
are we?” she mumbled.

“Rexburg,”
he replied as he stopped the car in front of a pump. “Are you hungry?”

A
restaurant shared the parking lot with the gas station. It was a small building
of yellow stucco with bright Christmas scenes painted on the windows. Homemade
posters advertised tacos, burritos, refried beans, and fried ice cream, while a
faded neon sign in the front blinked
High Valley Cafe
. It reminded April
of Tina’s Place in Snow Valley.

“How
about there?” she pointed.

Scott
glanced at the restaurant and pulled a face. “Uh…no.”

“What’s
wrong with it?”

“You
know how these types of mom and pop places are; the food is bound to be terrible.”

“Or,
it might be an awesome hidden gem,” April countered. “There are a lot of cars
out front; that's usually a good sign. Come on, let’s try it.”

“A
hidden gem in the middle of podunk nowhere?” Scott laughed. He got out to pump
the gas and when he finished, he started the car and drove back to the freeway without
a word.

April
bit her lip. “What was that back there?” she finally asked after they’d gone
several miles.

“What
was what?” he kept his eyes on the road.

“I
thought we were going to check out that diner, but you blew me off.”

Scott
shook his head. “No, we weren’t. Didn’t we agree it would be nasty?”

They
had definitely
not
agreed on any such thing, but perhaps it was just a
misunderstanding. April didn’t think it was worth fighting about. By the time
they stopped at an Arby’s half an hour later, she was over it.

The
sun was slipping behind the western hills when they crested the ridge of the
canyon. Snow Valley came into view, the pink of the sunset reflecting on the
glittering white snow. Far across the valley, April could make out the smudge
that was the biggest barn on her parents' dairy farm.

She
couldn’t help grinning. Coming home was just … well, like coming home.
Somewhere safe and comfortable where everyone knew everyone else and they all
took care of one another. Snow Valley was a place where neighbors shoveled each
other’s driveways, where kids could take homemade cookies to school on their
birthdays, and where everyone stayed around to socialize after church.

It
was also a place where the whole town turned out to celebrate Christmas.

She
reached over to run her fingers along Scott’s arm. “Are you excited?”

“Sure.
Aren’t you?”

“Of
course. Wait until you see it, it’s amazing. Fireworks, pageants, dances, a
parade … we
have
to go to the carnival. I think there’s a model train
show this year; Ben might really like that.”

“Sounds
like a lot of work,” Scott observed.

“It
is, but it’s worth it. For two weeks, it’s … magical. And it brings in a lot of
tourists. My parents have thought about turning the house into a bed and
breakfast, but it hasn’t worked out, yet.”

“Because
of your brother?”

“Partly,”
April admitted. “Mom has her hands pretty full with him and Dad is so busy running
the farm he can’t really help with a bunch of guests.”

“I’m
glad they didn’t do the bed and breakfast this year,” Scott said with a smile.
“I’m going to have enough culture shock without having a house full of
strangers too.”

“Culture
shock?” she teased. “You’ll be fine.”

He
flashed her a quick grin.

“Mom
said my friend Paisley is pretty involved in the planning. Maybe we should call
and offer to help,” April said.

“With
your parents gone, I think we’re going to be pretty busy already, don’t you?”

“We’ll
be fine. Ben has a nurse and Dad said he’s got the farm work mostly covered.” April
gave his arm a squeeze. “But you’re right. We’ve been so stressed with school,
we should try to relax.”

Scott
captured her hand in his. “I’m definitely looking forward to some time for just
the two of us.” He kissed the back of her fingers.

She
beamed at him, “Me too.”

Snow
Valley was named for the prominent Snow family, not the climate, though it
would have been appropriate considering the snow pack each year. April
remembered many years with so much snow, the entire town looked covered in quilt
batting. But every year the valley’s school children were in for
disappointment. School
never
closed, no matter how deep the snow.

As
they drove down Main Street, April felt a thrill of excitement. The streetlamps
were hung with lighted decorations – candy canes, Christmas stockings,
stars, trees, and snowflakes. A plastic Santa with his sleigh and reindeer hung
over the street and every store and house was swathed in lights, tinsel, garlands,
and banners. Inflatable lawn ornaments were everywhere.

“I
hate those things,” Scott pointed to one yard with not one inflatable, but
several
.

“They’re
getting into the spirit of things,” April defended her hometown. Truth be told,
she didn’t really like inflatables either, but they did add to the festive
mood.

Despite
the cold, the streets were packed with revelers out enjoying the atmosphere. Scott
drove slowly and April’s anticipation grew as she watched the crowds – parents
struggling to maneuver strollers over the packed snow, kids bundled into
snowsuits, couples, young and old, holding hands. Santa hats speckled the crowd
like sprinkles on a cupcake.

Fire
barrels were placed at intervals up and down the street and dozens of booths sold
hot chocolate, coffee, roasted nuts, and homemade candy. The square in the
center of town was crowded with people who had come to see the live nativity
and Christmas carols pumped through speakers mounted on the streetlights.

“You
have to try the scones,” April said as they passed a parking lot where the
Sierra Club had set up folding tables and deep fryers under the awning of an
RV. Hand-lettered signs read:
Fresh Scones, $3
. The thought of a crisp,
hot scone dripping with honey butter made her mouth water.

Scott
looked around with interest. “I can’t believe so many people are out on a night
like this,” he said. “They must be freezing.”

April
laughed. “You should see them at the polar bear plunge. Wanna give it a try?”

“Not
even a little bit,” he shuddered.

“We’ll
have to come back tomorrow so I can –” she drew a quick, startled breath when
she spotted a tall man with blond hair in the crowd. As they drove by, she
craned her neck to look back and relief flooded through her when she saw the
man’s face – it wasn’t him.