“You’re the one who said we didn’t have time for this.”
“Right.” Kristen turned to the women. “Heather? You’re next.”
Jase shifted into the zone as he worked through the next eighteen contestants. Finally Marisa stood before him.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She exuded true beauty. Honest beauty. With blinding clarity, he realized this was the woman he wanted to wake up beside every morning for the rest of his life, no matter whether that was here in Helena or anywhere in the world. Nothing else mattered. Only her.
“I figured we could drape the scarf over the stain,” Kristen said, fussing with the knitted purple length looped around Marisa’s shoulders.
Marisa’s eyes pulled away from his. As reluctantly as he did? The air felt chillier without her gaze holding his.
“I don’t know, Kristen. It seems an awkward angle.” Marisa fingered the scarf.
The coral turtleneck peeking from behind the zipper gave Jase an idea. “Why not open the jacket all the way? I think that will do it.”
Kristen frowned. “It’s freezing. Can’t you edit the stain out?”
“Well, yes.” Gladly, but he’d rather not have to. Every single day was packed. He was lucky to get four hours in bed after he’d tweaked and posted the best of the day’s photos. And then it would be useful if he actually spent those four hours sleeping. No such luck, most nights. Not with Marisa dancing in his dreams.
She slid the zipper tab down and allowed Kristen to arrange and rearrange her turtleneck and the scarf.
Finally Kristen stepped back. “What do you think, Jase? Can you work with this?”
With the jacket artfully open and the scarf casually knotted, no trace of the mocha stain was evident. At least if he was careful of the angle — and he would be.
He raised the camera and took the first few shots, but Marisa’s confidence seemed to have vanished.
Kristen called the other girls to attention and began herding them to the bus waiting on the other side of the lodge.
Jase didn’t dare look up to see what Avalon thought of Marisa lingering, but he wasn’t finished with her. For one thing, she hadn’t tossed him a genuine smile yet. He moved to the side, forcing a different angle.
The stain showed. He stepped closer and reached for the jacket lapel. “Mind if I rearrange this a little?”
Her hand gripped his.
Jase stilled. So close he could smell the floral scent of her. Feel the warmth from her body. He met her gaze and nearly drowned in the deep brown depths. “Marisa.”
“I saw you yesterday. Did you give a sandwich to the little boy?”
It took a moment for his mind to catch up. He tried to break eye contact but it was impossible. “Yes.”
“Didn’t you think someone might see you do a good deed?” A slightly bitter sound tinged her words.
“Should I have let him go hungry instead, when I had the means to feed him?”
She leaned closer. Mere inches separated her face from his. “Should I have?”
Jase turned his hand to capture hers, both pressed in the tiny space between them. “No. You should have done everything you could to help, whether people were watching or not. Children should not go hungry. Not here in Helena or in Kenya if we have the ability to feed them.”
He couldn’t help himself but closed the gap between them with a soft kiss on her lips. He groaned as he pulled away. “Marisa. Whatever it takes. Wherever it goes, my life isn’t complete without you.”
Marisa’s eyes searched his. “What if I tell you my motives weren’t completely pure? Yes, I absolutely wanted to help the children grow food, but I wanted to be in the pictures, too. I didn’t ask you to take photos of only them but of me with them.”
He stroked her hair with his free hand. This moment was worth everything. “That didn’t make your motives wrong, Marisa. Your connections — your face — could do what mere photos of hungry orphans could not do alone.”
She blinked, still focused on him.
“I’m sorry my attention has made you Avalon’s target, but I know what true love is. It’s what I have for you.”
Her gaze softened. Would she be able to let go of the past and let true love find her?
CHAPTER 15
“You keep saying, ‘for the children,’ Miss Tomah CSA. Yet children’s needs aren’t met with your organic food box program. That’s only for the wealthy.” The judge at the end of the panel flipped her pen over and over while watching Marisa over her glasses.
Marisa stood in the spotlight with an array of seven judges seated at a long table before her. Thank goodness for public speaking classes in college. She hadn’t used the skills in years, as no one wanted to hear a model’s opinions. Her job had been to pose and show the requested attitude.
Both were still a good idea. Marisa smiled at the judge. “There are children in every socio-economic group from pure poverty to extreme wealth. Children don’t choose which woman they’re born to. They can’t pick to have a loving father and extended family. They can’t even choose whether or not their mother keeps them. They can’t choose if they’re born in a ghetto or to a wealthy Rockefeller.”
The judge raised her eyebrows. The pen kept rotating.
“All children deserve quality food in enough quantity to thrive, not merely survive. Cooperatives across the country — around the world, really — like the Tomah Community Supported Agriculture program make this ideal much more possible for those with disposable income. That is very true.”
The woman leaned back a little, a smug smile lurking at the corners of her mouth.
Marisa raised her hand and inhaled a prayer. This was what she detested. Using herself as a positive example. Laying some claim to being in the limelight. Jase’s words yesterday lifted her up. “I’m not just the spokesperson for the Tomah CSA. I’m a farmer. My mother and I grow a wide variety of vegetables that are sold through the box program, but this enables us to use the remainder of our twenty acres for other purposes. This past summer five low-income single moms grew gardens on our property.”
By golly, she was proud of that. Her voice rose in confidence. “Their children join them on the farm. Together these families are learning about the value of good nutrition. They’re participating and taking ownership of their decisions. They’re learning to plant, to weed, to harvest, to cook, and to preserve food for winter.”
She looked straight at the judge. “This is what I do. This is my life. Helping people to make good choices about their food, and to equip them with lifelong skills.”
Another judge leaned forward. “That sounds very noble, Miss Hiller. I’m sure these families appreciate your support. But you must be aware that the Miss Snowflake Pageant feeds into the Miss Tourism Montana Pageantry system, which goes on to Nationals and then to Internationals. What you’re describing sounds good for Helena, but a needy family in Georgia isn’t going to get any benefit from your good deeds here.”
Marisa tipped her head to acknowledge his words. “There are other CSAs in this state, across the nation, and around the world. Most of them are independent and, to a large degree, I think that’s a good thing. However, I’d love the opportunity to meet with their directors and talk about what they’re doing with their less-than-perfect products. Is it going straight to compost, or are they sending it to food banks? Are local food banks equipped to handle perishable goods like freshly picked vegetables? Can other farms do what we’ve done, and help support local families in need through a shared-work program?”
She could see the gears turning in the judge’s head.
“At Tomah CSA we’re all about getting quality seasonal food into the kitchens of Helena’s families. That’s a goal easily expandable around the globe.”
Another judge spoke up. “It’s unusual to see such passion for needy children in someone as young as you are, Miss Hiller. Which came first, the passion for children, or joining the CSA?”
That one wa
s easy. “The children. I’ve always had a soft spot for kids. Even here in Helena there are kids living on the streets.” She remembered the youngster Jase had shared his lunch with. Could she find that child again? “As my career as a New York-based model grew, I became ever more aware of the wide gulf between the ultra-wealthy and those at the other end of the spectrum. My work took me to various countries in the third world, such as Kenya, where AIDS and drought have put millions of starving young children on city streets. When I returned to Helena, it was an easy choice for my mother and I to not only join the CSA but seek out ways to support those in need.”
“Modeling and farming seem worlds apart,” another judge mused. “Couldn’t you have done more for the cause by remaining in your influential career than returning to Montana to get dirt under your fingernails?”
If only the woman knew the traumatic route that decision had taken. “It seemed the wisest decision at the time, and I don’t regret a minute of it.” Well, perhaps she regretted the venomous words she and Jase had stabbed at each other. But now that he was here and their relationship was on the mend, she couldn’t hold onto the pain of the past. No, not when a bright future awaited — whether the tiara was won or lost.
“Your ancestor, Miss Calista Blythe, won the inaugural Miss Snowflake title in 1889, but turned it down to marry and provide a home for an abused orphan. You seem to have a lot in common with your ancestor. Can you see a situation where you might turn down the title for a perceived greater good?”
“Circumstances and culture are not the same one hundred and twenty five years later. Helena was a Wild West city with more wealth than it knew what to do with back then, and the rules of society were in a state of flux from old European standards to ways that meant something in the American West. Calista made the decision dictated by her society, her conscience, and her heart. Family history says she held no regrets.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Ms. Hiller. Would you ever come to a similar conclusion?”
What did the man mean, she hadn’t answered? Hadn’t she said the West was a different place now, that society had changed to where such a decision would not be required? “Sir, if a situation arose that required me to choose between wearing the snowflake tiara and following my conscience, I would follow my conscience. No question. However, to the best of my knowledge, no such decision has been presented to me. I stand ready to represent the city of Helena to Montana and beyond.”
Beyond might be putting it too strongly. How many years would she give pageantry? Like in Calista’s day, she couldn’t marry while in her reign — a stipulation that hadn’t gone away in over a century. But who planned a wedding in under twelve months, anyway? Could she put it off longer than a year if she won the next round as well? Would she?
Her face flushed, and it wasn’t just the heat from the spotlight. Jase hadn’t asked her to marry him. Not yet. But that question couldn’t be far away. What would she say? Would it matter to him if his fiancée spent an entire year traveling to draw attention to the needs of children?
That small boy in Last Chance Gulch drew her thoughts. No. He would understand. He’d even applaud.
~*~
“It’s nice to have a couple of hours off from the pageant.” Kristen kicked her shoes off and curled up in a deep leather chair across from Jase. “I’m glad Mrs. Jeffrey offered to keep the interviews on schedule this morning, but I hope I’m not missing anything I should be doing.”
“You’re doing exactly what you should be,” Mom said from the kitchen as Charlotte clambered up into Kristen’s lap.
Jase tickled Liam’s chubby tummy and the boy squealed. That little kid on Last Chance didn’t have an extra ounce of fat on him anywhere. Why had it taken Jase so many years to start noticing needs around him?
Marisa’s words haunted him. “What if I tell you my motives weren’t completely pure?” So he’d been right back then. Sort of. Did it make a difference? But his hadn’t been, either. He’d jumped to a conclusion and put all his self-righteousness behind his words. His lack of compassion boggled him now.
“Jase?” His mother’s words filtered into his brain.
He looked up. “Pardon me?”
“I asked if you wanted to invite Marisa Hiller and her mother here for brunch Christmas morning. Maybe some of her friends. I’m finalizing numbers so I can send Nella for groceries.”
What day was this, anyway? He checked his watch. The twenty-third? “Whose crazy idea was it to have a pageant the week before Christmas?” He pointed a finger at Kristen.
She shrugged. “We’re following along the way the original pageant was done years ago. You’re right, though. It’s nuts.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Jase.”
He took a deep breath. Was everything prepared? Would Marisa accept him? “I’ll ask her, Mom. Don’t know when I’ll get the chance, though.” He’d be so glad when this week was over and he could spend time with her without all this crazy pressure.
“When are you proposing, little brother?”
Jase’s head flew up so fast he cracked his skull against Liam’s chin. Luckily the kid was made of rubber and after a loud “oomph” ricocheted away to play with his trains.
“I… well, I don’t know.”
Mom hovered nearby. “But you’re going to, aren’t you? She seems like such a sweet girl.” In a perfect world, his parents would get to know Marisa before he offered her a ring.
“Jase, can I give you some advice?”
He rolled his eyes at Kristen. “Since when have I been able to stop you?”
She chuckled as she stroked Charlotte’s hair. “You have two choices. You can ask her in the next twenty-four hours and tell her it doesn’t matter whether she wins or loses. Or you can wait for the results. Will she think you’re offering her a consolation prize? Or that you’re offering because of who she is as Miss Snowflake?”
He stared at Kristen. What did she know of his and Marisa’s past? He wracked his brain. Nothing. He was sure of it. Unless Marisa had told her?
“If she thinks my love for her has anything to do with that tiara then we don’t have grounds for a solid marriage.”
“Look, I know something happened between you a few years ago.” Kristen held up her hands. “I don’t know the details, and I’m not asking for them. But I want you to know she’s got my vote, and you need to think about the timing.” She twirled her finger through Charlotte’s hair.
Liam tackled him again from behind, nearly strangling Jase with his pudgy arms. Jase grabbed the tyke and hauled him upside down over the back of the chair, pinned Liam’s arms together, and blew a raspberry on the little neck.
Yep. Jase knew it. He definitely wanted kids of his own. He yanked to his feet and dangled a writhing Liam by his ankles above Kristen. Charlotte pushed her brother, causing him to swing.
“I hear you.” Jase lowered his nephew slowly to the floor and turned to his mother. “Sorry, Mom, but I can’t stay for coffee. I’ve got a couple of errands to run before the stores close.”
“But—”
“I’ll let you know what she says as soon as I can.”
Kristen giggled and Jase, hand on the doorknob, swung to face her. He couldn’t keep the grin from poking the corners of his mouth.
“Let me know, too.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her.
Now to find the perfect ring.
CHAPTER 16
Marisa fingered the valves on her flute as she waited in the wings for her name to be called, last of the ten semi-finalists. She hadn’t played in public since high school band. She'd rarely even practiced since then. Not until Thanksgiving, when she’d made the decision to play Away in a Manger for her talent piece.
Dr. Mackie turned toward Marisa and announced her name to the sound of applause.
She strode onto the platform and set the yellowed sheets of music on the stand, then stepped beside it. It took several minutes for the crowd to settle down. That w
as a good sign, right?
After a smile and a wave, she raised the instrument to her lips. The beautiful words poured through her thoughts as she closed her eyes and joined her fingers with the Mueller version of the melody.
Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care.
God called people to be His hands and feet in caring for the little ones. To show His heart. He’d called her, Marisa Hiller, to make a difference. Not just in Helena, but around the world.
Could she do that, even if it meant walking away from Jase Mackie? As the final notes of the sentimental carol hung in the electric silence of the banquet hall, she met his eyes.
Pride shone there, and love. Was the love strong enough? If not, this was the best time to find out. Maybe not today. It could wait until after the pageant, win or lose. But definitely before she fell even deeper into this mesmerizing dream.
She became aware of applause exploding through the room, of the judges furtively jotting notes at their table down front. She held Jase’s gaze for a few seconds longer then reached for her music and headed offstage as Dr. Mackie entered from the other side.
A man in a black tuxedo offered glasses of water filled with clinking ice cubes to the other semi-finalists as Marisa stepped into the ready room. He turned toward her.
Mr. Penhaven? Who let him back here? Sure, they’d asked for volunteers, but wasn’t this a bit much?
“Shh,” one of the girls called. “Dr. Mackie is speaking.”
The voice of the pageant director came through the speaker system. “I’m pleased to announce the five finalists for the Miss Snowflake Tiara. Miss Avalon Penhaven, representing the National Breast Cancer Coalition. Miss Diana Riley, representing the American Heart Association.”
Marisa focused on the flute in her hands, ignoring Avalon’s smug smile while Jase’s dad added Heather and Tabitha to the list. Then, “Our fifth finalist is Miss Marisa Hiller, representing Tomah Community Supported Agriculture. Next we’ll hear from each finalist while they share their particular platform. Each young lady will have two minutes to speak. Should the contestant continue past her allotted time, she will lose points.”
More Than a Tiara: A Christian Romance (Christmas in Montana Romance Book 1) Page 11
