The Mountain Between Us (30 page)

“This is a wonderful Christmas!” Katya, face glowing and eyes shining as much from the hefty shot of bourbon Bob had poured into her eggnog as from the holiday spirit, lifted her mug high. “We should get snowed in at Christmas more often.”

“To friends.” Danielle lifted her own glass, which sparkled with champagne from a bottle someone had opened.

“To friends,” they repeated. Maggie sipped her tea—unadulterated—and caught the worried gaze of Lucille across the room. She made her way through the crowd—half the town must have joined their impromptu party—to stand by the older woman. “Something wrong?” Maggie asked.

“I'm worried about Olivia and D. J. They should have been home by now.” She turned her head to check the clock that hung on the wall beside the door. Maggie was amazed to see it was almost two. “I should get back to the house and check on Lucas.”

“He's probably asleep,” Maggie said. “And maybe Olivia and D. J. are already home.”

“Maybe. But I'd think they'd have seen the crowd and stopped by here.” She sighed and looked into her empty glass. “You're right. I worry too much.”

“I do, too. I know good and well Jameso is holed up in a hotel room somewhere, perfectly fine, but I can't help fretting.”

“He'll be back, Maggie. Jameso has his faults, but he's not going to run out on you and the baby.”

“I know.” Saying the words made her feel calmer, because she knew they were true.

“What are you two whispering about over here in the corner?” Rick joined them, a Santa hat askew on his head.

“We're talking about you, of course,” Lucille said.

“Only good things, of course.” He threw one arm heavily over Maggie's shoulder. “Some of us are taking the sleigh out for a midnight run. Want to come?”

“You still have the sleigh?” Lucille asked.

“Sure. It's parked in the county barn around the corner, right between the snow plows.” He grinned. “I couldn't leave the horses out in the cold, but I didn't want to take them all the way back out to the ranch, so Junior and I fixed up a place for them, with blankets and hay and everything.”

“And now you're going to make them go out in the cold to haul a bunch of us around,” Maggie said.

“They don't mind. It's what they do. And can you think of a better way to see in Christmas?”

“I can. They all involve a nice warm bed,” Lucille said.

“I'm sorry, Madam Mayor. I just don't think of you that way.”

Lucille stuck her tongue out at him. “Let me get my coat. You can drop me off at my house as we go by.”

“What about you, Maggie?” Rick turned to her.

“Why not?” She set aside her teacup. “A sleigh ride sounds fun.”

They waited in the snow for Rick to bring the sleigh around: Maggie, Katya, Reggie, and Lucille. Stars spangled the sky above and snow blanketed the sleeping town. No one disturbed the silence; Maggie had never known such peacefulness. The whole world seemed hushed with expectation. Waiting.

Then the jingle of sleigh bells rang clear in the midnight stillness and the sleigh turned the corner and hove into view, the two Percherons high-stepping and tossing their heads, Rick standing in the driver's seat and waving. “Merry Christmas!” he called, reining to a stop in front of them.

They piled into the sleigh's two seats and pulled scratchy wool blankets over their knees. With a jolt, the sleigh started forward, gliding through the unplowed street. Strings of lights outlined the windows, doors, and rooflines of most of the businesses in town, and in front of the library the town tree glowed, the glitter-and-Styrofoam decorations crafted by schoolchildren sparkling like jewels.

“We should sing,” Katya said.

“Some of us shouldn't,” Lucille protested, but Katya had already started a credible “Dashing through the snow,” and Reggie, Rick, and Maggie joined in.

Their voices rang through the night, and on the chorus even Lucille joined in. “Jingle bells, jingle bells . . .”

“Whoa! Whoa there!” Rick pulled the sleigh to a stop in the middle of the street.

“What is it?” Lucille asked. “Why are we stopping?”

“Is something wrong?” Maggie asked. She pushed off the blanket and stood.

“Just a real Christmas miracle,” Rick said. He pointed ahead of him with the whip. “Look up there.”

Maggie stared at the glare of a single headlight approaching. But the light was too high up to be attached to a car, and the engine sound was like no automobile she'd ever heard.

“It sounds like a train,” Lucille said. “And is that steam?”

“You can't have a train without tracks,” Reggie said.

“It's not a train,” Rick said. “I think it's an old steam tractor.”

Maggie's heart skipped a beat, then started to pound. She clutched Lucille's arm. “It's the old steam tractor from the Blue Bird mine.”

“I heard about that thing,” Rick said. “But who the hell is driving it into town on a night like this?”

“It's Jameso,” Maggie said, as sure as she'd ever been of anything.

The tractor was close enough now they could make out the hulking shape and yellow metal cab. Steam poured from the smokestack, but Maggie couldn't make out anything past the dark glass of the cab.

“He'd better stop or he'll run over us,” Lucille cried. The horses whinnied and danced sideways as the monster machine trundled forward on rubber treads.

But with a rumble and a jerk, the tractor ground to a halt a few feet from the sleigh. The passenger's door popped open and a tall man dressed like Santa, minus the fuzzy white beard, hopped to the ground.

“It's D. J.,” Lucille called.

The man reached up and helped a woman—Olivia—to the ground. Maggie glanced at them, then refocused on the driver's side. The door opened and it was as if a corresponding portal opened in her heart, letting out all the pent-up pressure and anxiety. “Jameso,” she whispered, as he climbed down the steps to the snow.

She didn't remember climbing out of the sleigh, didn't remember running to him, but suddenly she was in his arms, the strength of his grip around her the most comforting sensation. “I knew you'd come,” she said, kissing him over and over.

“I told you I'd make it home for Christmas,” he said.

“I don't know why you ever had to go away.” Now that he was here, she felt the need to scold, if only as a way of gaining control of her emotions.

“I had to get this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box and pressed it into her hand.

She stared at the ring box. “Jameso, I—”

“Go on. Open it.”

She did as he commanded and stared at the gold band studded with colored stones. “The gold is from one of Bob's claims,” he said. “I got him to sell it to me. The turquoise is from your mine, the French Mistress. The diamonds are from some estate jewelry Lucille had in her shop. I had a jeweler Jake knew in Montana make it up for me. Just for you.”

She stared at the ring—so beautiful, and unlike anything she'd ever seen. He'd gone to so much trouble to get it. “I don't understand,” she said. She'd already turned down his proposal and refused one ring.

“I wanted to show you how special you are to me. How much I love you.” He kissed her, his lips cold against hers, the stubble on his cheek abrading her skin. Yet never had a kiss been sweeter. “Marry me, Maggie,” he said. “I won't be happy until you're my wife.”

The child inside her stirred and she almost laughed, she was so happy. “Yes,” she said softly. Then louder. “Yes, I'll marry you.”

They kissed again, a deep, warming kiss she felt all the way to her heart.

“Is this a Christmas miracle?” Lucille tapped Maggie on the shoulder.

They broke apart and Maggie laughed. “Yes.” She showed Lucille the ring in its box. “Congratulations.” Lucille enveloped Maggie in a hug; then everyone crowded around, adding their good wishes.

“What are you two looking so smug about?” Rick asked D. J. and Olivia, who stood arm in arm, a little apart from the others. Olivia merely smiled and shook her head.

Then the door of Lucille's house burst open and Lucas, a coat pulled on over his pajamas, bounded into the street. “Hey, Mom!” he called. “Where have you been?”

“My truck got stuck in the snow and we had to hitch a ride home on this.” D. J. gestured to the tractor.

“Cool.” Lucas put one arm around his mother and hugged her.

“I have something important to ask you,” D. J. said to the boy, his face solemn.

“Yeah?” Lucas looked wary.

“Would it be all right with you if I married your mother?”

“For real?” A grin split the boy's face. “I'd say it was about time.” He turned to his mom. “You'll say yes, won't you?”

Olivia looked D. J. up and down, as if considering. “I guess I'll say yes,” she said. Before she could add more, he silenced her with a kiss.

“What do you think you people are doing, standing here in the street, making such a racket?” Cassie, dressed in a formal gown and pearls, her old wool coat thrown over her shoulders, marched toward them through the snow.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Wynock,” Lucas called. “My mom and D. J. are getting married. And so are Jameso and Maggie.”

Cassie sniffed. “I don't know why they couldn't wait until a decent hour to make the announcement.”

Jameso pulled Maggie close once more. “You ready to go home?”

“How will we get there?”

“The steam tractor will take us.”

Maggie eyed the huffing, growling monster. “Are you sure it's safe?”

“Safe enough.”

“I suppose my father would approve. No doubt he'd have been with you tonight if he could.”

“He was with me.” He spoke quietly, his face serious.

“Jameso, you don't mean . . .”

He shrugged. “Maybe I was hallucinating from the cold, but I'd swear Jake was there. He led me to the cabin where D. J. and Olivia were holed up. He saved my life. And he brought me back to you.”

She closed her eyes against stinging tears. She wasn't one to believe in the fantastic, but she could believe every word Jameso said. He had no reason to lie to her, and she'd heard so many fantastic stories about her father already that he seemed capable of anything. For a man who had abandoned her as a child, he'd given her so much—a new home and friends and family. And now he'd brought the man she loved safely back to her. She had all she ever wanted—the best Christmas gift anyone could have given her.

 

 

 

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Copyright © 2013 by Cindy Myers

 

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ISBN: 978-0-7582-7742-8

 

eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-7743-5
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