The Mechanics of Mistletoe

by Liz Isaacson

  “Seriously,” Bear said. “If there’s something I can do to help with…whatever it is. I will.”

  “I know,” Ranger said, looking away. “And if I could help you with Sammy, I would.”

  “I know,” Bear said. He adjusted in the saddle and turned Bertha to continue his work for the day. “Text me the weight, Range.”

  “Will do,” he called after his cousin before looking back out into the corral. The four semis had been loaded, and four more had taken their place. Over half the cattle had been loaded, and Ranger’s nervous stomach returned as he thought about what weight he’d like to see on the scales that day.

  Maybe a knot or two belonged to Bear and the conversations he needed to have with the woman he so obviously loved. If Bear was thinking about family, marriage, and where he and his wife would live, he’d definitely fallen in love.

  Ranger wondered what being in love even felt like, as he’d never been there before.

  A couple of knots—or several—definitely belonged to Oakley, and what he should do about that goldarn text.

  “Ranger,” Ward called, and he turned toward his brother. “We’re ready. You ready?”

  Ranger lifted his hand to indicate he’d heard, and he started toward the semi. Yes, he was ready to get on the road. “Talk to Ward,” he muttered to himself. That was what he needed to do about Oakley’s text. A sense of calmness came over him, and he knew that was the Lord telling him to get some outside, impartial help with the text.

  He hoped Ward was ready for this drive—and this conversation.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sammy wished Bear drove an older model truck. One with a bench seat in the front, so she could slide all the way over and ride next to him. She missed the days where she rode next to her boyfriend, his hand on her leg while they trundled around Three Rivers.

  She’d had a couple of boyfriends in high school who drove beat-up pickups, and that was Sammy’s favorite kind of transportation. Bear had a lot more money than her high school boyfriends, though, and his truck couldn’t be more than two or three years old.

  It had bucket seats in the front, with a bulky console between them and a bench seat in the back. Bear could reach her and hold her hand, but it wasn’t the same.

  “Oh, wow,” she said as he turned and the arch over the road announced their arrival at Shiloh Ridge. She’d driven underneath it at least a hundred times in the past six months. She’d appreciated the craftsmanship of it, as well as the elegant way it welcomed all to the ranch while also marking their territory.

  She’d never seen it decked out in layers of ivy, holly berries, or mistletoe. She peered up at it through the windshield as Bear said, “I tried to tell you.”

  “That you did,” she said. “Is that mistletoe for real?”

  “Oh, it’s real,” Bear said, and she couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. “Judge orders it from the local florist on the first. He’s always on the list when it comes in, and he’ll have it all over the ranch by Halloween.”

  Sammy blinked, trying to process the information. Judge did have a bit of a decorating streak in him, and he cared about details. The mistletoe fit his personality pretty well. “Surprising,” she said. “There’s not a lot of women up here to kiss, is there?”

  Bear chuckled and shook his head. “My mother and my sister. Some cousins. We had one female ranch hand for a while, about five years ago.”

  Sammy grinned at the thought of that poor woman and all this mistletoe. “So interesting.”

  He turned down the road that would lead them around the homestead to the house where Sammy had secretly met with his brothers to plan his birthday party. The last of the light winked in the sky, and she sighed as she settled back against her seat.

  “I don’t do a whole lot for Christmas,” she said.

  “That’s because my family has stolen most of the festivity from the whole town.” He definitely held a dark bite in his tone now.

  “I think it’s sweet,” she said.

  “I think it gets in the way,” he said. “It’s fine, obviously, but I don’t see why we need it up in October. There’s plenty of time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, but don’t even think about telling Judge that.”

  “I would never,” Sammy said, and they laughed together. The road was graded and well-kept, though gravel, and Sammy lost a few minutes as they rumbled along. She’d had a long week in the shop, with several accidents that had brought her and the boys more business. People in Three Rivers didn’t seem to know how to drive in the rain, and she hoped it wouldn’t be one of those winters with a lot of freezing temperatures, because she knew water became ice then.

  “Are you lookin’?” Bear asked. “You can see the lights.”

  She pulled her eyes open, and sure enough, the sky flashed with blue, red, white, green, yellow, and purple lights. “Seems like it’s working.” A sense of magic filled the air, and Sammy remembered a time when she’d loved the holiday season.

  Her mother made waffles and sausage on Christmas Day, and Sammy could practically smell the maple syrup. One of her aunts had gone to Vermont one year, and she’d brought back the genuine New England maple syrup, and Sammy thought she’d died and gone to heaven.

  A smile filled her soul and leaked onto her face, because she knew in that moment that Heather and Patrick had been enjoying waffles and sausage in heaven.

  “What other traditions do you have?” she asked as Bear made the sharp left into the long driveway of the ranch home.

  “Let’s see,” he said with a sigh. “Mother makes fudge and caramels every year. My father used to drive her around to all her friends and neighbors to deliver it.” He spoke with a warm tone, and Sammy basked in another good memory though it wasn’t hers.

  “My grandmother used to crochet a new ornament for the tree every year,” he said. “We still set up a memorial tree in the homestead to honor her, my dad, my Uncle Bull, and all the other Glover ancestors.”

  “I love that,” Sammy said, the idea rooting into her mind. She and Lincoln should do something to honor Heather and Patrick. Why had she never thought of that before?

  “We use all those ornaments, and pure white lights, and it’s almost like Grandmother is there.”

  “I’m sure she is.”

  “You’ll come this year, right?” Bear asked, glancing at her. He came to a stop in front of the house, the light display spectacular when not blocked by trees.

  “I’m sure I can,” Sammy said. “Just tell me when.”

  “We usually do it as soon as the harvest is over and winterizing is done. Probably in two or three weeks.” He put the truck in park and leaned back. “I just need to set the radio, and we can watch the show.”

  He fiddled with the buttons until he got to the right station, and sure enough, Christmas music filled the cab. The lights on the porch railings and roof, those outlining the windows, and those on every lawn ornament that had been set up pulsed with the beat of the music.

  Joy filled Sammy, and she couldn’t look everywhere fast enough. “This is great.”

  “We’re supposed to watch the whole thing,” Bear said. “And give feedback.”

  The show lasted almost fifteen minutes and spanned five popular Christmas songs. At the end, Sammy actually clapped, her laughter bubbling out of her mouth. “That really was great. I have no other feedback.”

  “Yes, well, he could do better with the reindeer on the Rudolph song,” Bear said, tapping on his phone. “You can barely tell that they’re not all lit up.”

  “Oh, come on,” she said, surprised but giggling. “You’re going to tell him that?”

  “Yes,” Bear said seriously. He finished his text and looked at her. “You’ve met Judge, right? He’ll want to know. That’s why he invited you out here first. So you could tell him what needs to be fixed before everyone else comes.”

  “Everyone else?” Sammy asked.

  “The whole town drives around to these things,” he said
, looking back out the windshield. “Last year, Judge got second place.”

  “You’re kidding. There’s a contest for this?”

  “It’s pretty new,” Bear said. “Started maybe five years ago.”

  No wonder Sammy didn’t know about it. Heather had died five years ago, and Sammy didn’t remember a whole lot from that time.

  “The blue lights need to come on quicker on this part too,” he said. “See the snowflakes? They’re behind.”

  Sammy saw them, and now that she wasn’t as mesmerized with the novelty of the whole thing, she could see that the blue lights were half a breath behind the music.

  “I want to see it again,” she said. “Now that I know what I’m looking for.”

  Bear kept tapping and sending texts, and Sammy wondered what he saw that she didn’t. The next song started, and he set his phone down. “Sammy, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay,” she said, her eyes still tracking the lights on the lawn. The soldiers lit up right on time, the red, white, and yellow lights perfectly aligned with the music.

  “It’s about kids,” he said. “You want children of your own, don’t you?”

  Sammy blinked, the lights in her eyes ingrained on the backs of her eyelids. “Kids?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Kids. A family. A husband. Marriage.” He cleared his throat, a sound Sammy hadn’t heard from him in a while.

  Sammy swung her head toward him, her movement feeling sluggish and slow. She looked at his profile being lit by the colored Christmas lights, and what he was asking hit her in the chest.

  He wanted to know if she wanted to have his kids. A family with him. Him for a husband. To marry him.

  He turned toward her, those blue eyes still as vibrant as ever, even without a lot of light. She saw her whole future with Bear Glover in a single moment of time, and it looked and felt incredible.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “To which part?”

  “To all of it,” she said. “Kids. A family. A husband. Marriage.”

  He nodded and looked back at the house. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Me too.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Are you thinking about having a marriage and a family with me?”

  “Yes,” he said without looking at her.

  “Me too,” she said. “I mean, with you not me. I’m thinking about those things with you, obviously.”

  “And?” he asked. He swung his head toward her at the same time she refocused out the windshield.

  She shrugged, aware of his gaze on her now. “And it’s nice. It’s…good. It’s real.”

  “Real,” he said. “Does that mean it’s bad?”

  “Sometimes,” she said. “Nothing is always good or always perfect, right?” She barely flicked a glance in his direction. “We’ll have hard times.” She settled into silence for a moment, her mind latching onto something that felt important.

  “That’s why Heather and Patrick were in the car without Lincoln. They needed a few days without him to focus on them. They’d been going through a rough patch in their relationship, and they wanted to smooth it back out.”

  She wasn’t even sure she’d realized that until this very moment.

  “Real,” he said again, and she sensed him leaning toward her. She turned toward him and received his kiss, which was sweet and tender. “I think I’m in love with you,” he whispered when he pulled away.

  “Mm.” Sammy kept her eyes closed as her heart pounded. She didn’t know how to say those words back to him, though she’d been steadily falling for him for months now. “Well, when you figure it out, cowboy, let me know.”

  He chuckled and straightened. They sat in the truck for a while longer, the silence between them comfortable. Sammy wasn’t sure if he was watching the light show or thinking about their future, but it didn’t matter. She and Bear were together, and they’d taken a meaningful step forward that night.

  “Bear?” she asked when he finally backed out and started down the road.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’d want to keep the shop open,” she said. “Would I have to give it up to have the husband and the family?”

  “I don’t see why,” he said. “I thought I did a pretty stellar job with Link over the summer on the ranch. The kids would just stay here with me.”

  She nodded, though they drove through absolute darkness now. “You did a great job with Link this past summer. Thank you for that, Bear.”

  “Anytime.” When he said that, Sammy believed him, and an accompanying warmth filled her with love and gratitude for the goodness of Bear Glover.

  A week later, she lay under a truck in the vehicle shed at Shiloh Ridge Ranch. She’d wanted to come a different day when Bear would be at the ranch, but her schedule had been packed for a while now. So she’d come today, while he was down in town at a ranch ownership meeting.

  She sighed, and not only because she had bad news to deliver to Ranger and Bishop, the two Glovers waiting for her to pull herself out from underneath the truck. Since Link had started fourth grade, she didn’t get to see Bear every day.

  She worked at the shop until at least six. Then there was dinner and homework and checking on her parents. Lincoln had to have a bath, and dishes had to be done. Laundry washed and dried. Notes signed. Tests studied for. Yard work completed.

  Sammy was busier than ever, and while she didn’t want to trade in her life for a slower one for very long, she knew she’d need to take a day off very soon to find some balance and peace.

  She grabbed onto the bottom of the truck and pulled, sliding out from beneath it. Grunting, she got up and brushed her hands off. “It’s not good news,” she said. “I think this truck needs to be scrapped for parts. I could try to put on another belt, but you burn through them in less than a month now. It’s just a bad design, and the heat is too close to the belt.”

  Ranger nodded, his mouth set in a line and his eyes looking at something just beyond her. “Can I get that in an official diagnosis?”

  “That is my official diagnosis,” Sammy said with a smile. “You can’t repair this, Range. It can’t be reused. Now, there are some parts you could recycle. I’d do that.” She nodded to the other truck that was the same make and model. “Keep this truck and use the parts on that one.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Bishop said, looking at Ranger. “Then we just need one new truck.”

  “Right,” Ranger said. “Okay. I’ll talk to Bear.” He shook Sammy’s hand, and she saw him start to visibly relax. He held things so tightly, and only when he released them did he feel like a normal human. “Sorry Bear isn’t here.”

  “It’s fine,” Sammy said. “Could I refill my water bottle in the house, though?”

  “Of course,” Bishop said, falling into step beside her. “And I’m sure we have something left over from this week I could heat up for lunch. Does that sound good?”

  “Sure,” Sammy said. She liked Bear’s brothers and cousins. They’d all treated her kindly over the months, and she’d never been made to feel like she didn’t belong at family functions or on the bench with Bear at church.

  The walk to the homestead only took a few minutes, and Sammy ducked into the bathroom to clean up. When she entered the kitchen, she found Bishop stirring something on the stove that was sizzling and popping.

  “What did he find?” she asked Ranger, who’d slouched on the couch. She sat on one near him, glad to be off her feet for a minute.

  “Rice,” he said. “He’s making ham-fried rice and eggs for lunch.”

  “Sounds amazing,” Sammy said, her mouth watering with the thought—and the smell of the salty ham now filling the air.

  Bishop worked like a pro in the kitchen, and Sammy liked watching him. He’d just turned from the stove with the pan of rice and said, “It’s ready. Let’s eat,” when her phone rang.

  “It’s my mom,” she said, standing. “I’ll be r
ight there. You don’t need to wait for me.” She stepped away, knowing full well they’d wait for her. “Hey, Mom,” she said. “I only have a second. What’s up?”

  A sob came through the line, and Sammy froze. Her pulse froze. Her breath froze right there in her lungs. Everything froze.

  She got thrown back in time five years. Her mother had called to tell her about the accident, and the conversation had started the exact same way—with a sob.

  Sammy struggled to breathe, finally breaking through the ice in her chest. “Momma?” she asked, a certain level of hysteria in her voice. “What’s wrong?” She was aware of Ranger coming closer, and then he stepped in front of her. He wore only concern on his face.

  “It’s Daddy,” Mom finally said. “He fell, and I can’t get him up. He can’t get up. He keeps losing consciousness.”

  “Mom,” Sammy said sharply. “Don’t move him, okay? Have you tried to move him?”

  Her mother could only cry in response.

  Bishop joined them, his phone out and up, a question in his eyes. Sammy nodded, seizing onto the idea. “I’m going to call nine-one-one, and I’ll send Gary Mitchell over. I’m up at Shiloh Ridge, but I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  Still, just crying. She watched Bishop tap on his phone three times, then a fourth to call emergency services.

  “Mom,” Sammy barked. “Tell me you heard me.”

  “I heard you,” she said. “He hit his head, Sammy. I’m so sorry. I’m usually right behind him, but he went in without me, and I was just putting all the weeds in the bin.”

  “It’s fine, Mom,” Sammy said. Now wasn’t the time to tell her she didn’t need to be weeding at all. Sammy wouldn’t want someone telling her she couldn’t do the things she loved, and her mother loved gardening. “It’s not your fault. Stay with him, okay? I’ll be at the hospital when you get there.”