Longing for a Cowboy Christmas

by Leigh Greenwood

  “In what way?”

  “Why would she need me? What would I ever have to offer her?”

  “Love? A safe haven after a long day? The simple joys of raising a family? In short, the very things you were looking to her to provide for you.”

  “I think we might have gotten past what happened before, but she may not…”

  “And then again, she may. The question is whether or not you have the courage to find out.”

  Colin ran his palm over the stubble of his beard. “Now? Today?”

  Again the slight lift of his shoulders as the priest replied, “You’re here, and so is she… Will there be another time?”

  Colin considered the idea. “I’m not at my best—I stink and I need a shave.”

  “I could help with that.”

  Colin could not believe he was buying into this idea. “Not sure Evie keeps a straight razor around.”

  “Ah, good point. Still we could do something about washing up.” The older man picked up the tin basin Evie had used to collect snow to cool Colin’s fever and headed for the kitchen.

  “Is Colin…?” he heard Evie ask, her voice groggy with sleep.

  “He’s fine. Just having a bit of a wash-up. You rest, my dear.”

  Returning to the bedroom, the priest set a pan of water on the side table, along with a bar of soap and a towel. “Can you manage?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “I’ll be just outside the door.” Whitestone stepped into the hall and closed the door.

  Colin stripped naked, knowing his long johns held the bulk of his foul scent. He washed and dried himself, then instead of putting the undergarments back on, pulled on his trousers and shirt. On Evie’s dresser he saw a comb and used it to tame his hair. He stepped back, studying himself in the mirror over Evie’s dresser. Not great but definitely better. He studied the room reflected in the mirror—Evie’s room, but could it one day be their room? Or maybe the foreman’s quarters at the ranch? She could ride to and from town and do her rounds—once people started to realize she was the doctor—their doctor.

  He saw a life for them and felt his heart swell. Maybe Whitestone was right. Maybe it wasn’t too late after all.

  * * *

  Evie found Father Whitestone sitting at the table in the kitchen just outside the closed door of her bedroom. “Is he all right?”

  “I think he’s much improved.”

  “I’m sure by tomorrow he’ll be able to be on his way.” She pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “Father, I don’t want you to think anything untoward happened here. He’s a patient and…”

  “And a friend. Once upon a time he was more than a friend, was he not?”

  She nodded.

  “Evelyn, I cannot help but wonder what you might be feeling now.”

  Evie folded her hands, twisting her fingers and not looking at him. “It was all so unexpected, seeing him again after so many years had passed.”

  “And yet?”

  “It was as if we had spoken yesterday,” she whispered, surprised at the truth of that statement.

  “So, you still have feelings for him—feelings that go beyond the renewal of a friendship.”

  Evie looked up at the kind face watching her carefully. “I loved him. I have never stopped loving him.”

  “Ah.” He reached across the table and covered her hands with one of his. “Then heal yourself, Doctor Prescott.”

  “How?”

  “Open your heart to the possibilities God may have brought you on this blessed day.”

  Evie laughed as she withdrew her hand and stood. “I doubt God has time to be concerned with bringing me special gifts, Father.” She stood and ran her palms over her apron. “I should…” She looked around and realized there was nothing to be done.

  “Perhaps I should see how Mr. Foster is faring,” Father Whitestone said.

  As Evie stood staring out at the empty street, she heard the murmur of conversation coming from the bedroom.

  “Ridiculous. So much time. We’ve both changed,” she muttered, turning from the window. She should ask the priest to stay for lunch. She wiped out the skillet, then set the table for three. Colin would be hungry. In the months they had spent together, it seemed he was always hungry. She considered what she might put together for a Christmas lunch. With little else to keep her busy these last several days, she’d made a wheat bread stuffed with nuts and raisins. She was an excellent baker, if a terrible cook. And there was the marmalade the patient with morning sickness had sent her. Both seemed festive enough for the occasion. She set the bread on a cutting board and placed it on the table with the marmalade and a dish of butter.

  What else? She sliced cheese and hard salami onto a plate, all the while keeping an ear cocked toward the closed door of the bedroom. What could they be talking about for so long?

  The door squeaked open.

  “Looks awfully good,” Colin said as he and the priest returned to the kitchen.

  “A Christmas feast,” Father Whitestone announced. “I’ll bring the extra chair from your office, Evelyn.”

  “Can I help?” Colin asked. He’d dressed, and Evie could smell the scent of her pine soap when he came nearer.

  “You’re not well enough to head back to the ranch,” she said, ignoring his question as she studied him from head to foot. “In this weather…”

  “Not intending to,” he said. “Just thought I might make myself a little more presentable.”

  The priest returned with the chair and set it at the table. “You have no tree or decorations, Evelyn?”

  “I thought of adding some greens, but then the storm started and…” She shrugged and filled their plates. “Not much of a Christmas dinner,” she said softly.

  “Looks great to me,” Colin assured her. He stood and pulled out her chair. “Sit, Evie.”

  They bowed their heads as Father Whitestone blessed the meal. She noticed Colin’s appetite had improved and smiled. The aspirin had worked. He would be all right. Surely that was a Christmas gift worth celebrating.

  “When I was a girl—before Mama died,” she said, “we always took turns stating our blessings on Christmas Day. Shall we?”

  “A fine idea. I’ll begin,” Father said. “I am blessed to have settled here in Sagebrush as I come to the end of my career as a pastor.” He made the sign of the cross. “Colin?”

  “I am blessed to have made my way back to these parts and found steady work to sustain me—and with any luck a family someday.” He glanced shyly at Evie, and she felt a blush climb her neck to her cheeks.

  “Evelyn?” The priest prompted.

  “I am blessed to be doing the work I love,” she said and then grinned. “Even if others have not yet seen fit to take advantage of my skills.”

  Colin and the priest laughed. They continued taking turns, interspersing their blessings with bites of the meal Evie had prepared. “My turn again?” Father Whitestone asked. “I am blessed to have brought countless couples together in holy matrimony and witnessed their journey through the years of that marriage as they walked side by side every day—their love and strength sustaining each other through the years.”

  There was a long silence while they ate their food. “Colin?” Father Whitestone said after the silence became uncomfortable.

  “I am blessed…” he began, focusing on his plate, now cleared of food. “I am blessed to have found Evie again.” He glanced up at her.

  She swallowed the last bits of cheese and took a long swallow of water, fighting the tears that threatened. “And I am blessed,” she whispered, “to have the chance to tell Colin I have thought of him with…fondness…so often since the day we parted all those years ago.”

  Father Whitestone, seated between them, took hold of Colin’s hand and then Evie’s and joined them. “And I am so
very blessed to bear witness to this reunion of two hearts split apart and rejoined by God’s divine providence.” He closed his eyes in silent prayer. He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin. “I should return to the church in case anyone decides to stop by,” he announced, pushing away from the table and standing. “Thank you, Evelyn, for a lovely Christmas repast.” He turned to Colin and shook his hand before heading to the door, where he hesitated. “Should the two of you decide you have need of my counseling—or other services—do not hesitate to come to me.”

  Evie was so confused by the priest’s cryptic offer and her own feelings. Was the priest offering his blessing? And did Colin understand? And was this what he wanted, or was he embarrassed by Father Whitestone’s obvious—and clumsy—attempt to reunite them?

  “Thank you,” Colin murmured, his eyes on their joined hands.

  As the door closed behind the priest, Evie stood and began clearing the table. She was aware of Colin watching her.

  “I could make us snow creams,” he offered.

  She was assailed by another memory of an early December snowstorm when they had gathered fresh snow and combined it with eggs and vanilla and eaten the cold, sweet concoction while sitting before a fire.

  She smiled. “That would be nice, but you are not going out in this weather.” She wiped her hands on a towel and took a tin pan down from a hook above the dry sink. “I’ll collect the snow.”

  “Put on a coat,” he called.

  She was back in less than a minute, holding up the pan of snow.

  “I need eggs and vanilla,” he announced.

  She pointed to the egg basket and took down a bottle of vanilla from the shelf above the dry sink. He took down a large mixing bowl, cracked eggs into it, and beat them with the vanilla. Then he added the snow and slowly stirred the mixture, watching as it solidified into the dessert of their youth. He scooped a spoonful and fed it to her.

  Evie closed her eyes as she savored the cold and sweetness. “Heaven,” she murmured.

  “Yeah,” he said, but he was looking at her. “Evie, do you think maybe—I mean, Whitestone seems to think maybe we could try again.”

  “We’re not the same people we were before,” she said.

  He took a bite of the snow cream and moved away. “It was just a thought. I mean, with me working at the ranch and you here in town, we’re bound to run into each other from time to time.”

  “You think it will be awkward?”

  He stared at her. “I think it will be painful,” he said softly. “At least for me. A reminder of what we could have had and I walked away from.”

  “We both walked away, Colin. And you’re right. We were young and not ready.”

  He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “And now? Would you allow me to call on you, Evie? Court you again?”

  Evie closed her eyes, remembering all the lonely nights she’d lain awake missing him—wanting him. Remembering the times they’d made love, wondering if memories would ever be enough.

  “I don’t want courtship, Colin.” They’d moved well beyond those days—years when their lives had traveled separate paths. And now that they had found each other again and he’d admitted his mistakes of the past and shown his pride and belief in her as a doctor, she was ready to move forward instead of always looking back.

  His eyes clouded with disappointment, and he looked away. She cupped his jaw and kissed him softly.

  “I know you, Colin, and you know me. Why waste time?”

  “It’s just I think we might get beyond the past and find our way again.”

  “I’ve found my way, Colin, and I do not want to waste another day. Marry me?”

  * * *

  Colin could not have been more surprised if she’d suddenly taken up the freshly wiped skillet and slugged him with it.

  “Marry you?” he managed in a strangled voice.

  She turned away, her back stiffening as she cleared the eggshells and put the stopper back in the bottle of vanilla. “Or walk away again,” she muttered as she dumped the melting snow cream into a pail and carried it to the door.

  He stopped her before she could open the door, relieved her of the pail, set it down, and held out his arms to her. “Come here, Evie.”

  She hesitated, and he took the half step that separated them and wrapped his arms around her. “We need to think this through… You need to think this through. A lot of time has passed, and I’ll admit there hasn’t been a day I haven’t regretted walking away. But for you, Evie… I mean, you’re a doctor. I’m just a cowboy. You deserve…”

  “You’re doing it again, Colin. Always telling me what you think I need or want as if I haven’t the sense to think for myself. If you don’t want this, I accept that, but do not tell me what I want.”

  He pulled her closer. “Evie, I want you—us. Have done so since the day I first laid eyes on you coming across the plaza. I’d never met a girl like you—so strong and determined and willful. So damned maddening and lovable.”

  He felt the tension ease from her body, felt her hands soften as they held him in return. She turned her face so her cheek rested against his chest, and he took all that as a good sign that he hadn’t lost her—again. And in that moment, he understood her thinking. There was no need to waste any more time. They were not getting any younger. Their time for being together and raising a family and sharing their lives was finite. As a doctor, she understood that more than most. She wasn’t being impulsive in suggesting they wed at once.

  As usual, Evie was simply being practical.

  “Let me finish dressing, and we’ll go to the church,” he whispered.

  Her head shot up, her eyes boring into his. “Right now?” She stepped back, put her hands to her hair, then to her soiled apron. “I can’t go like this.”

  “I thought…”

  “You finish dressing while I clean up the rest of the mess here. After that, I’ll change, and then we’ll go to the church.” But instead of turning back to the kitchen, she began rummaging through a trunk that sat near the back door, pulling out woolen scarves and a man’s mackintosh. “You’ll need these. Or maybe I could go and ask Father Whitestone to come back here. You’re still…”

  Colin took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I’m as ready as I’m going to be, other than putting on my boots and jacket, so go change if that’s what you want, or let’s go to the church.”

  “I can’t be married in this,” she said, and when she reached the bedroom, she looked back at him. They were both smiling—the easy smiles they’d shared in their youth. And then slowly her smile faded into something far more serious.

  “I love you, Colin Foster,” she said softly and stepped into the bedroom and closed the door.

  Five

  Christmas Day. Her wedding day.

  It was all beyond belief, so much so that Evie stood paralyzed into inaction in the middle of her bedroom. The bedcovers were rumpled from where Colin had fought his way back to her. She picked up a pillow and inhaled the male scent of him. Realizing they would return here after they were married, she quickly straightened the covers, sprinkling a bit of rosewater to freshen the linens.

  Then she stripped to her undergarments and washed herself with snow she gathered from the windowsill, shivering as she breathed in the cold air of a bright, sunny day. She shut the window, dried herself, and turned to her wardrobe. Her collection of clothing was meager and utilitarian, but in a chest lined with cedar was a dress she had been unable to part with through all the years since that other Christmas Eve.

  She pulled out the solid-green wool dress she’d worn that night. Colin had said it reminded him of the forest. She wondered if he would remember. Not likely. Men did not take much stock in such things. The important thing was that she remembered—that in choosing this dress to be married in, she was completing the circle t
hey had broken that night.

  She brushed out her long hair and left it hanging free, pinning the sides back with a pair of combs before turning to the mirror. She looked younger—happier. They were taking a risk, of course. Time and changes they had both experienced might stand in their way. But surely a love that had lasted through all that would sustain them. Still, if he had doubts…

  “Evie?” Colin knocked and then opened the door and stepped into the room. He had put on his boots, and he filled the doorway with his height and breadth.

  When he saw her, he sucked in a long breath. “You look so…” He shook his head and grinned. “You take my breath away, Evie, and we both know right now I don’t have a lot of breath to spare.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I think I’ve been sure pretty much since I saw that shingle swinging in the wind with your name on it.”

  In her office, he held her coat for her and put on his jacket and hat while she pulled on her gloves and wrapped her shawl around her head and shoulders. Side by side, they walked out into the cold, clear day and arm in arm crossed the deserted street. They entered the courtyard of the adobe church and stepped inside the sanctuary.

  Father Whitestone sat in the front pew, his Bible open. He was wearing the robes he wore to conduct services, and when he heard the door open and close, he stood and faced them. “Ah, you came.” He motioned to the altar. “Have you come to a decision?”

  “Yes,” Colin said. “We’ve come to be married.”

  “Colin,” Evie whispered, suddenly shy.

  “Better late than never,” the priest said and motioned them forward as he took his position. “Tomorrow you can make arrangements to secure the official documents, but this ceremony before God is the important part.”

  Evie savored the exchange of words she and Colin repeated to each other—promises and time-honored vows binding them together for a future they had both longed for and would now share. She had never been happier.

  As Father Whitestone gave him their blessing, Colin held both her hands in his, and the way he looked at her told her they shared the joy of this moment.