2 Mayhem in Christmas River

by Meg Muldoon

  “Until?” I asked.

  I fixed my long, dark brown hair into a makeshift braid and pulled my hat farther down across my forehead.

  “Till the beer’s ready, of course,” Warren said.

  “Well, it’s about time,” I said. “I swear, you’ve been talking about that beer for ages now.”

  “Well, it’s like they say. Good things take time.”

  Over the past few years, craft brewing had really taken off in central Oregon. It seemed like you couldn’t throw a stone without hitting a neighbor’s bucket of fermenting beer. It had taken Warren a little while, but he was now onboard with the whole idea and had started brewing his own beer. He brewed his first batch with a couple of other old timers at the senior center the year before and hadn’t looked back since.

  Lately, it seemed like our fridge was perpetually filled with Warren’s experiments, and the air in the house always seemed to have a distinct fermented smell to it. But I wasn’t complaining. I did worry sometimes, though. Brewing beer took a lot of physical strength, and my grandpa was getting up there in age.

  But it seemed to make him happy. And while his doctor would probably be scolding me for letting him drink so much, all that heavy lifting was giving Warren some much needed exercise. I figured that they cancelled each other out.

  “So you got a name for this batch yet?” I asked.

  Since Warren had started experimenting, he had started naming his beers. They were all Western-themed names like Doc Holiday’s Remedy, Wild Bill’s Last Rites, Eights and Aces, and The Kid.

  “I’m still thinking it over,” he said. “I’ll have a proper one in time for the release party.”

  “Release party?” I said.

  I looked over at him, raising my eyebrows.

  “Well, yeah, of course, Cin. That’s what breweries do when they release a beer. And this new one’s gonna be just as good as any local brewery’s. I’d bet a whole keg on that.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I said, retying the laces of my boots. “So am I invited to this special release party, or what?”

  I looked up.

  “Now, what kind of question is that?” he said, shaking his head.

  I laughed, hearing the sound of pickup tires rolling up near the curb out front.

  “Okay, old man,” I said, going over and pecking him on the head. “Have fun at the tavern later.”

  I grabbed my backpack from the coat rack near the front door.

  “Tell Daniel I’m expecting him to show up to the release party, too,” Warren said. “I need all the word-of-mouth I can get if I’m gonna open up a brewery.”

  “A brewery?” I said.

  He shrugged.

  “Seems like the natural next step, don’t you think?”

  He winked at me. One of his trademark mischievous winks.

  I shook my head and grinned. I opened the door and was met by a hot gust of pine-scented wind.

  “Take it easy, old man,” I said.

  “See ya, Cin.”

  I closed the door behind me and locked up.

  His truck was sitting on the street, still running. My heart fluttered frantically in my chest.

  Even after being with him all this time, he still had that effect on me.

  When he saw me come out of the house, his face lit up in a bright smile.

  I could live for a hundred lifetimes and I don’t think I’d ever get sick of that smile.

  Or the way it made me feel.

  Chapter 4

  A year and a half had gone by faster than a fall snowstorm could hit the mountain passes.

  It had gone by deliriously. Joyously. On the wings of a hummingbird flying beneath a warm summer sun.

  Just over eighteen months ago, Daniel showed up on the back doorstep of my shop after chasing a stray dog through the snow. He was nearly three sheets to the wind and shaking like a leaf in the howling winter storm.

  It’s not the kind of encounter most girls hope for when they meet Prince Charming. But it suited me just fine.

  Because the bottom line was that I had been the girl lucky enough to find him.

  We lay in a meadow, the tall grasses moving and swaying with the cool, blustery gusts of fresh mountain wind. The late afternoon sun was electrifying everything it touched.

  Daniel and I had hiked about two miles in to an area called Holiday Meadow. A place where the forest gave way to a stretch of golden grassland that had stunning views of the majestic and craggy Cascade Mountains. It was picturesque and secluded, and I couldn’t think of a better place to celebrate an anniversary.

  On days like these, it was hard to imagine that this meadow was buried under several feet of snow for more than half the year. But that was how it was up in these mountains. Summers were short, but they were sweeter than marionberry pie.

  Daniel held me close. Huckleberry, the Australian shepherd that had been the catalyst of our relationship, was rolling around on his back a few feet away, trying to scratch an itch he couldn’t quite reach.

  “What’cha thinking about, Cin?” Daniel whispered in my ear, his voice as soft as the mountain breeze.

  I held him tighter.

  “You, Sheriff Brightman,” I said.

  He laughed, and his hot breath on my neck sent my skin breaking out in waves of goose bumps.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said. “Nothing’s for sure yet.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Don’t be so modest,” I said. “You know the sheriff position’s yours. There’s no contest.”

  “Is that right?” he said.

  “It sure is,” I said. “There’s not another man in the entire tri-county area that can compete with you.”

  “So what you’re saying is that I win by default?” he said.

  I grinned.

  “Well, living in a low-population part of the state does have its perks.”

  “Is that how I won you, too?” he asked, smiling. “By default?”

  I turned over on my stomach so I could get a better look at him. Those pale green eyes shone brightly in the high mountain sunshine.

  “And who says you’ve won me yet?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  He leaned in closer to me, our eyes locking.

  “Me,” he whispered. “I say so, Cinnamon Peters.”

  He pulled me up into his arms suddenly and pressed his lips against mine in one of those thrilling bursts of passion that always caught me off-guard. I felt the nerves throughout my body explode like firecrackers on the Fourth of July before melting away. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he pulled me closer.

  A soft breeze rustled through the grasses around us and I couldn’t think of another place on the planet I wanted to be. Or would ever want to be, for that matter, other than lying in this meadow with Daniel’s arms around me, acting like I was the only other person in the entire world.

  He pulled away for a moment. I caught my breath.

  I tried to suppress a smile, but it didn’t work.

  He had my number and he knew it.

  “Now, are you still gonna argue with me about that?” he asked.

  “You got me, Sheriff,” I said, resting my arms on his shoulders and leaning my forehead against his. “I’m all yours.”

  “That’s more like it,” he said, kissing me lightly.

  He kissed my neck and then looked up at me, sighing.

  “I’m afraid that dinner won’t make itself,” he said, glancing over at the backpack.

  He tried to get up, but I wouldn’t move.

  “Aw, c’mon,” I said. “Just lie in the sun with me a few minutes longer. Who needs dinner anyway? I’ve got all I need right here.”

  He hesitated for a moment, but after I threw myself on him and told him he had no choice, he gave in. We lay back in the tall grasses, staring up at the bright blue sky up above.

  I could have stayed like that for all eternity.

  “Sometimes I wonder where I’d be right now if I hadn�
�t stumbled into your shop that night,” he said, rubbing my shoulders. “You know, I think I’d still be lost in that storm.”

  I held him tighter.

  “You saved me too, you know,” I said.

  We’d both been lost in our share of storms.

  In that meadow, with his arms around me like that, the sun on our faces, it felt like there was no such thing as winter.

  And that there never would be.

  Chapter 5

  Huckleberry led the way as I took a stroll through the pines surrounding the meadow.

  Daniel was making dinner, something elaborate that required too much work, and he wouldn’t let me help him with it.

  “I’m making this just for you,” he said, shooing me away when I tried to lend a hand.

  I couldn’t help but feel all warm and gooey inside when he said that.

  After I set up the tent on a flat spot in the meadow, I decided to stretch my legs and give Huckleberry some exercise.

  Good old Hucks. He stayed with Daniel most of the time these days, but so did I, so it felt like the dog belonged to both of us. Huckleberry had not only brought Daniel and me together, but he’d also saved me from a cold jail cell by attacking his original owner’s killer, Gretchen O’Malley.

  In a lot of ways, all of that seemed like such a long, long time ago.

  Gretchen had pleaded guilty to the murder of Mason Barstow and was now serving 33 years in prison. Even though she’d tried to frame me for the murder, I had felt conflicted in some ways about her conviction. I wasn’t any fan of hers, but her being in jail meant that my best Gingerbread Junction competitor was done for.

  Winning the competition this past year hadn’t felt as good as I had hoped. Without Gretchen’s elaborate, borderline-obsessive gingerbread house entry to compete against, winning had almost been too easy.

  Huckleberry bumped into my leg suddenly as we walked, his herding instincts getting the better of him. I reached down and ran my hands through his sleek fur. He took off again in front of me, something catching his attention in the underbrush.

  In the past year and a half, Huckleberry had become a healthy, happy, and slightly overweight dog. Spending too much time around me seemed to have that effect on people. And on dogs, apparently. I was just bad luck to anybody who was on a diet.

  Daniel had put on a few pounds too since we’d been together. As both Daniel and Huckleberry knew, it was hard to say no to my pies. And I was such a softy lately, I was always bringing home my latest pastry experiment from the shop.

  But I liked the extra pounds on Daniel. He’d been too skinny when I met him. He used to have that lean, almost malnourished look about him that bachelors get when too many of their dinners are of the liquid kind. These days, that hungry look was gone, replaced by something that seemed like contentment.

  And those dark clouds that had followed Daniel, the ones he picked up after catching his brother’s murderer, appeared to be far away behind us now.

  And that made me happy.

  A breeze shook the trees around me and dry pine needles sailed through the air, hitting the dusty forest floor. A few fell into Huckleberry’s fur, and he stopped to shake them off.

  I, on the other hand, had gone in the opposite direction. I’d dropped 20 pounds over the past year and a half, and that had only been the beginning of the ways I’d changed.

  Since Daniel had reappeared in my life, I found myself smiling more. I laughed more easily. I started volunteering down at the animal shelter. I started eating healthier. I stopped watching the news. I started spending more time in the outdoors, the way I had when I was younger.

  It was like every minute of every hour was richer.

  I had a zest for life, one that I couldn’t ever remember having before. Not even during my happiest times with Evan, my ex-husband.

  And I had Daniel to thank for all of that.

  But even with that being said, I couldn’t lie.

  I was nervous about tonight.

  The woods were falling into cold blues as the sun slipped farther down in the sky. I pulled my fleece jacket tighter around me and stopped for a moment, leaning against the rough bark of a dead pine tree. I looked out into the meadow, where I could see the orange glow of a fire flickering from our camp. I watched Daniel as he flipped something in a frying pan.

  I sighed.

  He was everything I’d been searching for my whole life. I knew that. A good man who seemed to always do the right thing. Who was kind and honest and humble. And who treated me with a kind of respect and honor worthy of some sort of royalty.

  But even with all that, there was something that had been on my mind for the past few months or so, and something that I knew had been on his.

  It’d been over a year. Things were serious. He knew that I loved him, and I knew that he loved me. Things were perfect between us.

  But I knew something was coming. I could see it up ahead on the horizon. It frightened me. And I felt unsure about it.

  And I felt bad for feeling unsure about it.

  I leaned against the tree and watched him as he circled the fire, looking for something. He cursed as thick puffs of black smoke shot up from the frying pan.

  I didn’t know if it was possible for me to love him anymore than I did in that moment.

  But I didn’t know if that would be enough.

  Chapter 6

  “Do you really think I would lie about something like this?” I said. “You know how honest I am.”

  I took another bite of the paella rice dish Daniel had made as the distinct bitter flavor of burned rice assaulted my taste buds. I tried not to let it show on my face, but Daniel knew me well enough by now to know that I was lying.

  “Damn it all to hell,” he said, throwing his fork down on his plate and letting out a frustrated sigh. “This isn’t the way it was supposed to be at all. Sorry, Cin.”

  Poor Daniel. He’d brought all these elaborate ingredients to make dinner out here to impress me, and it had all gone up in flames. Literally.

  “No,” I said, lying through my teeth. “It’s… uh… it’s really tasty. I love it. Great flavors.”

  I chewed carefully as my tooth hit an overly toasted grain of rice.

  “C’mon,” he said, giving me a deadpan expression. “I may not own a pie shop, but even I can taste when something’s burned beyond recognition.”

  I put the tin plate down near the fire and moved closer to him on the log we were sitting on.

  The sun was going down, leaving the meadow bathed in a brilliant shade of fiery summer orange. The fire was crackling, and even if we had no food out here, I’d still have been content.

  It was the company that mattered.

  “I still love it,” I said. “Nobody’s ever made me a better meal.”

  “I doubt that,” he said.

  “No, really,” I said. “And you know why it’s the best? Because it came from the heart. That’s what cooking’s all about.”

  That made him smile.

  “Nice spin,” he said.

  I reached for the bottle of Wild Turkey sitting on a rock near our chairs and filled a tin mug. I handed it to him.

  “Besides, it’s nothing that a little whiskey can’t cure,” I said.

  He took it in his hands.

  “My kind of woman,” he said, taking a sip.

  I poured one for myself, and we watched the meadow fall into shadows as the sun disappeared. Huckleberry ate the remains of the burned food from the cooking pot. He didn’t seem to mind the flavor.

  I pulled my fleece jacket tighter around my body. Daniel got up and put another log into the fire and then sat back down next to me.

  “Listen,” he said. “There may be a reason why we had carbon pellets for dinner tonight.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “You see, my mind was on something else when I was supposed to be tossing the rice. In fact, my mind’s always on something else lately.”

&nbs
p; I felt a twinge in my stomach that had nothing to do with the burnt rice I’d just eaten.

  “Yeah?” I said. “And what would that be?”

  He took another sip and set the mug back down on the rock. He was quiet for a moment, looking out across the meadow, leaving me hanging in anticipation.

  And then he reached for my hand.

  “You, Cin,” he said, looking deep into my eyes, a serious expression on his face. “Lately, my mind’s always on you.”

  I felt my mouth go dry and a big lump of emotion started growing at the back of my throat.

  “I know you don’t like it when people get sappy,” he said, playing with my hand. “But here it goes: when I’m at work, or when I’m at home, or even when I’m with you, Cinnamon, I never stop thinking about you. I didn’t think I was capable of these kinds of feelings. It’s like my whole life, I’ve only ever been able to see the darkness in my own heart. But then… one day I wander into your pie shop, and everything’s different.”

  That was the kind of thing most women would dream about their boyfriend saying to them.

  But I couldn’t help thinking about what he would say next. I knew it was coming, and it made my insides tremble like I was on the back of a horse running at full gallop.

  “You don’t know what I was before we met,” he said. “I don’t think you understand just what you mean to me, Cin.”

  “Daniel, I—”

  “But if you let me, I’d like to spend the rest of my life showing you,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “And I already know how you feel about this, but to hell with it. I’m doing it anyway.”

  I bit my lower lip.

  He pulled out a black box and got down on one knee in front of me.

  Even though I’d been expecting it, part of me was still shocked.

  I felt a hot tear slowly slide down my cheek.

  That was shocking, too.

  “Cinnamon Ann Peters,” Daniel said, opening the little black box and looking up at me with heartfelt eyes. “I love you more than words could do justice. Will you say yes, will you marry me?”

  The diamond sparkled in the light of the fire and sucked all the breath out of me.