Lucy McConnell's Snow Valley Box Set

by Lucy McConnell

  “Sophie was not a wealthy woman in the eyes of the world. Her bank balance was not large, and as far as I know, she rarely had money stashed under her mattress—unless it was Christmas, and even then the stash was meant for fabric to be used for Christmas dresses for her daughters.”

  Heads bobbed in the family section of the room, and Joan added just loud enough for those around her to hear, “Her nieces, too.”

  The pastor continued, “The Lord has said: Blessed are they who are poor in spirit and come unto me, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. He also admonished us to lay up our treasures in heaven where moth and rust do not corrupt.

  “Within those guidelines, Sophie was a wealthy woman indeed. You can see the effect she had on people. She did not care that her home was not the biggest in Snow Valley, nor did she care if her clothes were the latest style or carried a designer name. She cared about people. Her family, her friends, her neighbors—strangers!

  “For Sophie, it was never about how much she could get out of this life; it was always about how much she put into it. And with boards labeled service and nails labeled hope and shingles labeled love, she has built a heavenly mansion where she now resides with her beloved Liam.”

  Eli bowed his head. Aunt Sophie had it right all along. As she would say, the proof is in the pudding. Well, Aunt Sophie, the proof of your words has filled the church today.

  As Pastor John closed, Hailey made her way to the podium. She looked so small up there. His little girl. When she opened her mouth, a great big beautiful voice came out. “Amazing Grace” slammed into his chest, causing his heart to swell so big, Eli had a hard time taking a deep breath.

  “Where did she learn to sing like that?” Eli whispered to Natalie.

  “She’s singing for Aunt Sophie today.” Natalie bit her lip.

  Eli gave Natalie’s hand a gentle squeeze. Aunt Sophie was right: his life was passing him by, and it was high time he paid attention.

  Chapter 15

  One week later

  Natalie made her way to the break room. Her first day back at work had gone smooth enough, but she was ready for a soda and a few minutes of sitting on her tush.

  “I guess she’ll never know,” said Allen, a fifteen-year-old stock boy, right as Natalie entered. He stuffed his phone into his pocket, and his friend, Calley, ducked her head.

  “What’s going on?” asked Natalie. Years of raising children had honed Natalie’s senses to when mischief was afoot—and her senses were high-stepping circles around those two.

  “Oh, um, I was just showing her some stuff online.”

  “Uh-huh.” Not one to back away, Natalie held out her hand for the phone. Allen’s face went red as he handed it over.

  Natalie stared at the email until her mind finally registered the meaning behind the message.

  Dear Gifter,

  Thank you for your gift to the Bucks for Bunnies program sponsored on Tracie’sTrimmings.Blogspot.com. For your anonymous donation to the Lawson Family in the amount of ten dollars, you have been entered to win the pleated blue gown featured in last month’s posts. Stay close to your inbox because I’ll send out the name of the winner the day before Easter.

  All the best,

  Tracie

  “What is this?”

  Allen shuffled his feet. He opened his mouth several times, but couldn’t seem to get past his embarrassment. Calley rolled her eyes at him and said, “Tracie set up a Bucks for Bunnies on her blog for your family. For each donation, people get an entry for a drawing for the blue dress.” She lifted a shoulder. “I really wanted the dress for prom, so I had my aunt in Utah send you ten bucks.”

  Natalie pressed her hand to her chest. “The blue dress? With the beads?”

  Calley grinned. “Yeah, it’s sick.”

  Natalie handed the phone back to Allen and asked Calley, “Why would she do that? The dress is worth over twelve hundred dollars.”

  Calley shrugged. “I assumed it was because she’s nice.”

  Allen snickered. “Tracie?” he asked, and Calley silenced him with smack to the arm.

  Natalie pulled out a chair and plopped down. “She’s too nice.”

  “Are you gonna yell at her?” asked Allen. Calley backhanded him in the chest and gave him a look like he was an idiot.

  “No.” Natalie stared at the table. Because of that money, they’d been able to repair Eli’s truck and she had had financial leeway to take the time off after the funeral. She thought about Pastor James’s words at the service, how Aunt Sophie had built a mansion with her small acts of service. She didn’t want to take that away from Tracie. If there was anyone who deserved blessings and beautiful things in life, it was someone willing to give when they didn’t have much themselves. Besides, Tracie’s gift was so much more than money: she had given Natalie understanding and a validation that even in her worst of times, someone was watching over her family.

  She looked up to see Allen and Calley watching her. “Listen up.” Natalie put on her best mom voice. “You two aren’t going to say anything to Tracie, or anyone else, about this. She meant her gift to be anonymous and that’s how it will stay. Understand?”

  They both nodded.

  “Good.” She shooed them out the door.

  Later that day, she pulled off strips of two-sided tape and plastered every card they’d received to the front of the refrigerator. When she was done, images of the Savior, Easter bunnies, an empty tomb, and spring flowers covered the scratches and dents, much like the words inside had brought something beautiful into Natalie’s life at a time she’d doubted herself and her marriage. Stepping back, she nodded once before going to take a shower.

  Chapter 16

  Natalie decided she knew exactly how an empty well felt. She’d cried so many tears over the last week that her head ached from lack of liquids in her body. Tracie never said a word about the Bucks for Bunnies campaign that she’d ran on behalf of Natalie’s family, and Natalie stopped asking if the blue dress had sold. Instead, they sat down during their breaks and planned out Natalie’s next three guest blogs.

  The funeral couldn’t have been timed more perfectly. Since Aunt Sophie passed right before spring break giving her kids—Natalie’s cousins—time to stay in town and sort through things in the house, dividing the valuables and keepsakes from the everyday items.

  Life in Snow Valley trudged on around her, but Natalie hardly noticed. Her kids went to the picnic and annual football game. They came back from the barn dance with flushed cheeks and smiles, and Dove’s continued to sell egg-dyeing kits and chocolate eggs.

  Natalie celebrated Easter differently this year. She asked the Lord to bless each one of the givers for their donations of the heart. Even though they had entered a contest for a dress, they’d taken the extra time to personalize their cards, and Natalie clung to that human connection with both hands.

  Easter morning, Natalie came down the hallway in an old dress and a new pair of nylons and found Eli standing in front of the refrigerator, his hand holding one of the cards open as he read the words inside. After a moment, he dropped it shut and opened the next. Natalie held still, not wanting to interrupt. There was something going on in the room, something beyond her and bigger than lost jobs and strained marriages. She could feel the difference in the air as a sense of love and awe circled Eli. She didn’t know if it was Aunt Sophie hovering near, or if those cards were so full of love that it spilled out. What she did know was that this moment was not about her, and she wisely tiptoed back down the hall to give Eli the space and time to fully experience that love without interruption. Some things, a man—or woman—needed to learn on their own.

  Aunt Sophie’s six children owned her house equally and would put the home on the market as soon as they finished preparations. Since they all lived at least an hour away, they’d offered to pay Eli and Natalie to finish sorting through the items in the home. Eli had taken on the task, his fervor admirable. He’d sold the three bedroom sets and sent th
e money on to the family, and was currently in the garage sorting through things that hadn’t been touched since Uncle Liam passed away.

  Natalie was grateful the trunk of old clothes was still there. No one had bothered with it, and Julie, Aunt Sophie’s oldest daughter, had told Natalie to keep it. Spending time with Aunt Sophie’s things and making them over would give her a way to feel close to her aunt.

  After boxing up the dishes in the kitchen, she went outside to see if Eli was ready for a lunch break.

  “Look at this!” he exclaimed when he saw her.

  Natalie cocked her head, unsure of the tone in his voice. He sounded excited. That couldn’t be right—Eli hadn’t been excited about anything in months. She took a tentative step forward, sure that the brightness in his eyes would dim and she’d have to retreat inside.

  Instead, he pulled out an old blue box with several dials and a long hose attached. “It’s old, but I think I can get it working.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a welder.” Eli smiled triumphantly.

  “I don’t understand.” Natalie shook her head.

  Eli held the box a little higher. “I’m tired of looking for a job. I’m tired of rejections and résumés and guys who have never held a torch telling me I don’t have enough experience. So, I’m opening my own business.”

  “You’re what?” They’d looked into this before, and short of putting their house up for collateral, there was no way to make it happen.

  “I’ve been thinking about it for some time and I haven’t had the guts to lay it on the line and go for it. With this little beauty, I think I can make it work. I won’t have a steady paycheck—at least, not for a while—and you’ll probably still need to work, but at least I’ll be bringing in an income again. And—” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I heard Tray Dalton is moving to Idaho.”

  Natalie stared. “You’re serious?” Tray Dalton was Snow Valley’s long-established welder. Everyone called him first. If he was moving …

  Eli set the welder down and put both hands on Natalie’s shoulders, quickly bringing her thoughts away from Tray Dalton and focusing them wholly on the man before her. He looked deep into her eyes, and Natalie could see the man she once knew, the man who got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. He had that same hopeful trepidation in his look now, and she stared in wonder.

  “Nat, I know I’ve made you sad and I will regret that for eternity. I haven’t been the man you married; I haven’t even recognized myself for the last few months. I was scared and beaten down and I had a hard time picking myself up.

  “I’m looking at you and I don’t see the woman I married. She was doe-eyed and innocent and all she wanted to do was raise a couple kids and bake cookies, and I loved her.” He squeezed her shoulders to accent his words.

  Natalie pressed her hand to her mouth. The tears she thought were dried up stung her eyes and dripped down her cheeks.

  Eli continued, “And I love the woman before me, too. You’re branching out and you’ve become this whole other person, and getting used to her took some time. Now that I know her, I love her even more. Please take some time to get to know me again. I think we’re still a match.”

  Natalie nodded, unable to form the emotions swirling through her into words. She wrapped her hands around Eli’s neck and pressed her lips to his. Her heart lifted, pulled out from the dark and dank by the offer of love, the freely given apology, and the hope in Eli’s words. Their kisses became tender and slow, exploratory even as they crossed into new territory—together.

  Life wasn’t all better. Aunt Sophie was still gone. Natalie still worked at Dove’s and had a few gray hairs. The kids still didn’t have cell phones or a car. They couldn’t buy a new house, new furniture, or overstock the pantry. Somehow, as Eli kissed his way across her cheek, none of that mattered. Natalie couldn’t help but think back to Aunt Sophie’s story of the three husbands. She had a feeling that for her and Eli, the best was yet to come.

  Wedding Fever

  A Snow Valley Romance

  Cat O’Shae, a Christian romance writer who moved to Snow Valley sets a New Year’s resolution to create romance off the page. When her eyes lift from the computer screen, they land on Sam Miller, an unlikely candidate for a romantic hero, except he sure does look good in a cowboy hat and he did save her from one mad chicken… Sam might just be what she needs to start the New Year off right.

  Chapter 1

  Dember 31st dawned sunny and cold in Snow Valley, Montana. Breathing in the crisp air was like sucking down a mouthful of potato chips—sharp and unforgiving. Yet Sam Miller braved the elements to do a favor for a friend.

  Chet Bauer was on his honeymoon with Mercedes. Married just before Christmas, the couple had escaped the clutches of Old Man Winter and headed for a tropical paradise where the sun sparkled like diamonds on the waves.

  Flipping up the collar on his heaviest coat, Sam closed the door on the toasty cabin and climbed into his four-wheel-drive truck. A honeymoon sounded like a wonderful place to be right about now.

  Besides Mercedes and Chet’s nuptials a week ago, Adam and Destiny were getting married on Valentine’s Day, and Amy and Jake planned to take the plunge on March third. And those were just the events he could remember. His mom’s fridge was papered in invitations to bridal showers. That was one part of the wedding he’d be happy to leave to his future bride. All those silly games. Bah! All of Snow Valley seemed to have succumbed to wedding fever.

  Tucked behind a ridge, Sam thought his cabin had escaped the virus, only to find himself wishing he’d catch the marriage bug sooner rather than later. His longing for a honeymoon had nothing to do with the snow and everything to do with getting out of the single life. Man, how he hated the dating scene.

  Truth was, he’d never been very good at playing the game of love. Navigating a woman’s subtleties was like being put in as a relief pitcher and not knowing the catcher’s signals. Too often, he ended up throwing a fastball that was knocked out of the park—game over. With a shake of his shoulders, Sam headed out.

  Driving in Montana in the winter was always an adventure, ’specially on the back roads outside of town. The plow didn’t make it this far. Ranchers were responsible to maintain their stretch of the highway, and they used everything from John Deere tractors to four-wheel-drive trucks fitted with snow blades to clear the way. Snow fences were a common sight, their metal tops sticking out of the white berms.

  As he crested a hill, the valley spread out before him. In no time, the small white walls and red shutters of the O’Shae house came into view. His eyes were pulled that direction for a reason that eluded him.

  Habit.

  Probably.

  When a fine-looking woman lived in a house, a guy tended to keep an eye on it. Cat was charming with her Bostonian accent and big doe eyes.

  Catrina.

  A smile played at Sam’s lips.

  The good Lord didn’t make women like Cat every day. She had a way of spicing things up—and he wasn’t just talking about her lemon pepper chicken. At the barn dance, she’d worn a red gingham dress that fit in all the right places with a pair of cowgirl boots. Sam’s wasn’t the only mouth dry with nerves. The punch bowl had emptied within seconds of her arrival as men tried to keep their cool.

  Sam ripped his eyes off the white clapboard home and happily tucked his thoughts of Cat into a mental pocket. He’d agreed to keep an eye on Chet’s cattle while the lucky jerk was soaking in the sun and his bride’s attentions, not to ogle his sister-in-law.

  Pulling into Chet’s, he braced himself against the cold, stuffed his cowboy hat low on his head, wrapped his scarf tight, and jumped out of the truck. That first step away from the heater was always the hardest. He shuddered and plowed on.

  The Bauer home faced east, with Chet’s backyard butting up against the pasture, making it easy to monitor the water levels in the hundred-gallon galvanized tubs. Sam checked the troughs, the cattle startling away at his app
roach. The trough heaters did their job well, and steam rose up from the water’s surface. All four of the tubs needed to be topped off, so Sam unwound the thick orange hose and started the process. As the water flowed, he leaned his elbows on the fence rail and breathed through his scarf while admiring Chet’s spread.

  He had a barn off to the right, a big thing with stalls for several horses, a tack room, and hay storage. The house was older, but he’d heard that Mercedes was in the process of fixing it up. She had serious skills when it came to construction. The lawn was covered in snow; the few trees were mature and well-tended.

  Between the barn and the pasture fence was the huge chicken pen, complete with a caged range area. Chet had built it for Mercedes as a wedding gift. She’d moved her flock of twelve into the spacious fowl-complex before the wedding. A few birds braved the cold, scratching around in the range-pen. While he watched, two flew out the small door to join their friends, squawking like they’d been offended but none the worse for wear.

  Strange.

  Sam tipped his head, wondering what they were doing. His curiosity turned to concern when two more hens flew out. A woman’s scream pierced the frigid morning air, and Sam broke into a run. That wasn’t a sound he could ignore.

  He threw open the unlatched man door and was immediately accosted by a blizzard of feathers and chicken food. Cat was in the center of the coop, screaming. Her arms protected her head as she twisted this way and that. “Get off!” she yelled. The chickens shrieked almost as loud as Cat, flapping their wings on the attack.

  Sam stared in shock as a Rhode Island Red flew at Cat, her feet clawing through the air. Cat tossed the feed bucket and ducked just in time. A rainstorm of pellets clattered to the floor.