Snowbound in Montana (11 page)

God, but she was beautiful. The urge to kiss her was so strong he had to force himself to walk away. He busied himself with the fire, adding enough wood to last many hours, if not the entire night.

At one point he noticed the Christmas tree, forlorn without the lights that had been turned off to conserve electricity. He wished he had the power to make the tree glow brightly once more. The power to fill a stocking with toys and candy for Kevin. To allow the Kellys to have a baby.

To heal Eliza’s broken heart…

But he had no Christmas magic to spare for anyone. If he had, he would have used it all, fifteen years ago, to save the brother who had been, not only his mother’s favored child, but also his favorite person in the entire world.

For a minute Marshall considered returning to his own room. But he didn’t feel right, leaving Eliza alone in here. Probably, she’d be perfectly safe.

But the way this trip was going, he didn’t want to risk it.

So he stretched out on the longer length of the sectional sofa, positioning himself so he could keep an eye on both her and the fire. He’d watch over them both.

‡

C
hristmas morning. Marshall
opened his eyes to a chilly room that seemed a little brighter than it had been for a while.

Could it be sunshine?

But no, when he checked out the window, it was still snowing, albeit lightly.

Eliza had pulled her blanket up over her head, so only her nose peeked out.

Cute nose.

He’d fallen asleep, despite his intentions of watching over the fire, and Eliza, all night. Just a few embers were glowing in the hearth now, and quickly he went to add logs, and get the blaze going again.

While he was crouched at the hearth, he heard a husky voice from behind him.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Same to you.” He dusted ash from his hands, then went back to his place on the sectional. “Did you sleep, okay? I hope you weren’t too cold.”

“I was fine. I admit I considered cuddling next to you when I woke up a few hours ago. But I grabbed this extra blanket, instead.”

He noted the new blanket, spread over the one he’d placed on her several hours ago. “I would have been good with the cuddling.”

She glanced at him, probably checking to see if he was teasing. But that was a game he didn’t even know how to play. In that moment, he envied men like John Urban who knew the clever words to say, the smooth moves to make. All he could do was stoke the fire so she would be warm. And offer to bring her a cup of coffee.

“Oh, coffee would be wonderful.”

He went to the kitchen where he found Betsy busy at the stove, while Griff enjoyed his first coffee of the morning. After wishing them a Merry Christmas, he filled two mugs, adding milk to one.

“I think the storm is easing up,” Griff commented.

“Too late to save Christmas,” Betsy noted glumly. “I’m out of eggs. It’ll have to be frozen waffles and strawberry preserves for breakfast.”

“Do the best you can,” Marshall said. “And let me handle the complaints.”

Betsy touched his arm. “You’ve been such a trooper. I know some tour guides who would have gone berserk by now.”

He shrugged. Temper tantrums were for children. And they couldn’t make the snow stop falling or give access to the supply trucks that had been scheduled to arrive days ago.

He took the coffee to Eliza and found her folding up the blankets they’d used that night. She accepted the mug with a smile. “Thank God Betsy hasn’t run out of coffee, yet.” She took a sip then moved to one of the windows. “It looks lighter today.”

“Yes.”

“Once the snow stops, how long will it take to plow the roads?”

“Somewhere between eight to twelve hours,” he guessed.

Her face fell, as she realized that even in a best-case scenario they would be stranded for another night. The prospect for Christmas was as dismal as ever.

A few minutes later, they heard pounding on the stairs, and then Kevin rushed into the room. He stopped at the tree, and his shoulders slumped. “He didn’t come.”

Behind him, his mother and father were entering the room at a much more relaxed pace.

“Kevin,” his father said, in a tone that spoke of limited patience.

“I know. You told me Santa couldn’t come. But I thought he might.” Kevin poked at some of the ornaments on the tree.

“Stop that, Kevin, before you break something,” said his mother.

The Arbuckles were down next, followed by the Bracketts, the teenaged girls, and then the Kellys. Sydney was limping, but other than that, appeared fine. Marshall examined her ankle and found only slight swelling. Definitely, just a sprain. That was good news, at least.

Despite Marshall and Betsy’s predictions, there was no complaining when Betsy served the waffles and strawberry preserves for breakfast, along with maple syrup, which Betsy had warmed on the stove so it would soak deliciously into the waffles and melt the creamy butter.

They lingered over breakfast, but once it was over, there were still too many hours left to the day. Everyone was tired of board games and reading. But what could they do? No way was Marshall going to suggest skiing.

Kevin was the first to complain. He tugged on his mother’s arm. “Will you go sledding with me?”

“Oh, Kevin. It’s so cold outside.”

Marshall glanced at Eliza. He could tell she was on the verge of stepping in and offering to take Kevin sledding. He was at the same point.

“I wish I had a brother to play with.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “You have a sister. Why don’t you ask Anna to play Scrabble with you?”

“I hate that game. Why can’t we ever play a game I like?”

“Oh, Kevin.” Tina sighed and happened to glance in Marshall’s directions. Perhaps she saw something in his eyes, something that nagged at her conscience, because for the first time all holiday, she suddenly gave in to her son. “Okay. We’ll go upstairs and brush our teeth and when we come down we’ll all play whatever you want.”

“You will?”

“Yes. Me, Daddy and Anna. All of us. So what do you want to play, Kevin?”

“Hockey!”

“No way,” piped up his sister.

“Anna,” warned her mother.

“But I don’t want to play hockey.”

Marshall could tell from Tina’s expression that she was wavering. He didn’t usually involve himself in family situations, but this time he couldn’t stop himself. “Maybe Christmas is a good time to do something, not because it’s what you want, but to make someone else happy.”

The room fell silent, and Marshall became aware that everyone in the room had been listening to him, not just the Ritchies.

“That’s a wonderful sentiment, Marshall.” Eliza was the first to speak. “I think I’d like to play hockey, too. If that’s okay with Kevin.”

“I’ll play, too,” Anna conceded.

Surprisingly, Buck was the next to come onside. “I haven’t laced up a pair of hockey skates in years, but in college I played center. And Bonnie and the girls used to figure skate. Count us all in.”

“Well, I don’t even know how to skate,” Alec said. Catching his wife’s frown, he added quickly, “But I’ll play goalie if I can wear my boots.”

“I’ll be goalie for the other side,” piped up Mary Arbuckle. “And Ted can play defense.”

“I can?” asked Ted, mildly.

“Why not?” Mary said. “I think we’ve all got a bad case of cabin fever. The fresh air will do us good.”

“And it’s not as cold or windy out today as yesterday.” Marshall had just checked the outdoor thermometer, visible from one of the windows. “In fact, it’s only a few degrees below freezing.”

“What about the Kellys?” Eliza asked. “I’d hate for them to be left out.”

“I’ll bundle up and keep score,” Sydney offered. “I don’t want Jason to miss the fun. He used to play when he was a little boy. He really loves the game.”

It was a surprisingly generous move from a woman who’d been nothing but difficult up until this point of the trip.

In fact, Marshall reflected, for some miraculous reason everyone seemed to be on their best behavior today.

They divided into teams—the Sleigh Bells: Buck, Bonnie, Eliza, Jason, Anna and the Brackett twins, and the Red-Nosed Reindeer: Marshall, Kevin, Tina, Alec, Bob, Mary and Griff.

Besides keeping score, Sydney also timed the periods and was given the power to call a penalty if she witnessed a play not in keeping with the holiday spirit.

Kevin was so excited he couldn’t stop talking. He planned out plays with Marshall, Ted and Mary, cheered on his father every time he stopped a shot, and called out for a pass just about every ten seconds. “I’m free! Here! Here! Pass it to me!”

For once, his parents had the good sense not to tell him to be quiet. In fact, they seemed to be enjoying their son’s good mood, and when he managed to score a goal, after a sweet set-up by Marshall and Ted in the first ten minutes of the first period, everyone cheered wildly—even the players on the other team.

Marshall was glad he and Eliza were on opposite teams—it gave him a good opportunity to keep his eyes on her, and he couldn’t help himself from doing it a lot. Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink in the brisk winter air, and she had the same athletic grace on skates as she had on her cross-country skis. Marshall had always been drawn to women who loved the outdoors and sports, but Eliza had something special he’d never seen in anyone else.

He couldn’t put words to it, but it was there in the way she made Anna and the twins laugh with a silly joke. And it was there when she hugged Kevin after his goal, and consoled her own goalie when she managed to score on herself.

More than a few times he went after the puck, just because Eliza had control of it. It gave him an excuse to be near her, close enough to see the tiny star earrings that dotted each of her delicate ear lobes, to make out the individual lashes that framed her lovely, bright eyes.

It was shortly after the first hour, that Eliza suddenly stopped skating. Marshall, who was paying more attention to her than the puck, watched as she held out her hand, then looked up at the sky.

“Hey, everyone. It’s stopped snowing.”

Marshall turned his gaze skyward. She was right.

“It’s true,” Bonnie marvelled. “The snow has finally stopped. I can even see the sun peeking out from behind the clouds.”

“Yay!” Kevin cheered, and even several of the adults let out a whoop.

Ten minutes later, they were stripping off hats and scarves as the sky became clearer and the day warmer. Marshall was sweating as he worked to set up Kevin for his next goal. By the time the game was over most of them were playing in just their sweaters. The Red-Nosed Reindeer were declared the winners and everyone shook hands and clapped one another’s backs good-naturedly.

“That was a heck of a lot of fun,” Buck declared. “And take a look at the scenery. I had no idea this place was so beautiful.”

Marshall lifted his gaze. It was stunning how different the world looked in the sunshine.

Snowflakes glistened in the pristine landscape. Rugged mountain peaks, formerly shrouded by the storm, rose dramatically on every side. Above, not a single cloud marred the shocking blue of the sky.

The contrast from just twenty-four hours earlier was remarkable. Eliza obviously felt the same way. She skated up to him, stopping herself with a hand planted on his chest. “Doesn’t even seem like the same world today.”

“I prefer this version.”

She laughed. “Oh, me, too. I can finally appreciate how gorgeous this spot is. Look at all the mountains.”

He named a few of the more prominent peaks. A crowd gathered around him, as people listened with interest to what he had to say. Somehow he lost track of Eliza and didn’t see her again until later when Betsy served hot cocoa and marshmallows around the fire.

Marshall made a point of sitting next to Kevin’s sister. “I think Kevin was more excited when he saw you score than he was for his own goals.”

Anna looked at her brother and smiled. “Yeah. He’s a sweet kid in some ways, isn’t he?”

“He sure had a fun time today. Playing hockey with him was the best Christmas gift you could have given him.”

“I never thought of it that way. But you’re right.” She hesitated a moment, then went to sit next to her brother. “Hey Kev. Want to see who can roast the darkest marshmallow?”

At that moment Marshall sensed someone watching him. He glanced to the side in time to catch Eliza’s approving smile. Obviously, she’d overheard the little exchange with Anna.

“Playing hockey was fun,” she said, coming to join him on the rug next to the fire. She sat so their hips were just inches apart, stretching out her long legs so he could see her red wool socks. Little bells dangled from the ankles.

He gave one of the bells a tap, and it made a tinny, jingling sound. “Cute.”

“Aunt Mable gave them to me last Christmas.” Her face went a little sad. “I hope she’s not too upset that I bailed on her this year.”

“If it’s any consolation, you made a lot of peoples’ Christmas happier by being here. Including mine.”

“That’s a nice thing to say.”

“I mean it. The past four days would have been very difficult without you.”