Christmastime on Donner's Mountain

by Laura Strickland

  The lights on the gazebo still shone multi-colored through the dark air, and excited voices floated like snatches of dreams. Now, though, Becca didn’t feel quite so sure she wanted to run.

  Gyp, at her side, caught sight of the man who stood talking to a family in front of the tree lot, and darted forward. Becca followed more slowly, wondering if the next few minutes would change her life—if she wanted them to.

  The old man lying in the bed, the one with the passionate eyes and the spirit still of a young man who loved, had been very persuasive. He understood the impulses that filled her. He also understood the call of love on the heart.

  To whom should she listen, if not him?

  Jack glanced up in surprise when Gyp reached him and began to leap around, greeting the family just leaving with their tree. He gave Becca a questioning look.

  She waited, hands deep in her pockets, till the family had gone. Then she took Jack by the arm and towed him as deep as possible into the remaining trees. Not many left—most people in Crawford tended to plan ahead, and it was Christmas Eve, after all.

  “Becca?”

  She gazed into his eyes, dark blue away from the twinkling lights. Did her future lie there? Her happiness?

  “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

  “I came…” She had to pause and lick her lips, her courage suddenly faltering. She thought again of the old man in the bed. “I came to ask if you can forgive me. To ask if you want me to stay.”

  ****

  “Stay?” Jack’s heart began to drum with an almost painful rhythm. The word barely existed in Becca’s vocabulary. It did, however, cause Gyp to pin her butt to the ground in a rare show of obedience.

  He reached down and patted the dog’s head absently. “No, Gyp, that’s ‘sit.’ Becca, what did you just say?”

  “I want to know—I need to know—how you feel about me, Jack Donner.”

  “How I feel about you?” If someone had hit him over the head with one of his own trees he couldn’t be more stunned. “As if last night didn’t tell you that.” Fool, fool, fool—he’d fallen into the old trap again of wanting her so desperately, so helplessly, knowing he risked having to watch her walk away.

  Only once had he said no to that. And it cost him everything.

  He caught her shoulders between his gloved hands and stared into her face. “Becca, don’t play with me.”

  “I’m not. I’m done playing games, Jack Donner. I’ve come to you with—with a humble heart.”

  Now he knew he was delusional. Becca humble? Maybe he’d fallen asleep here in the snow, and this was a mad dream.

  But no, he could see the sincerity in her eyes. He sucked in a breath. “For God’s sake, say what you mean.”

  “I thought I was saying what I mean. I know it was my fault, what happened between us five years ago. You may have said the word—goodbye—but I pushed you to it. I pushed you in every way I knew, Jack, because I was so afraid. I knew I couldn’t break us up, and I didn’t have the guts to stay, so I made you do my dirty work.”

  “I—”

  “No.” She touched his lips lightly with her fingers. “Listen. You were the best thing I ever had, the best I ever knew, and I threw it away like it was nothing. Since then I’ve been running—away, not toward. I never found what I needed ’cause…’cause it was here all the time. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Jack, but will you forgive me? Will you take another chance on me?”

  Would he? Could he? Could his heart endure it if she walked out on him again? It banged now in his chest as if bent on self-destruction.

  He’d rather self-destruct than go through the pain of having her walk out of his life.

  “What makes you think you’d be any happier here now than ever? Becca, what makes you think you’ll be satisfied—with just me?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Jack, there’s an old man sitting back there at the top of his house aching—aching—for the one thing that ever really mattered to him. And he’s me, in thirty years. He says in the end the love’s all that matters. And my love—my love lives on Donner’s Mountain.”

  Jack gasped and pulled her into his arms, close against his heart. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight, so tight they might almost be one.

  “You forgive me then?” she asked. “And you’ll put up with me—with my moods and my restlessness, all the while knowing none of it means a thing compared with my love for you?”

  He caught her face between his hands and gazed into her eyes. “There are such things as vacations, you know—wild adventures we can take together. I may be rooted to the mountain. That doesn’t mean summers can’t be spent gallivanting with you.”

  Her lips parted in delight. “Oh, you mad dreamer! Better kiss me and seal the bargain.”

  He did, pouring himself into her and feeling the hurt of the past melt away like the snowflakes falling upon them.

  When the kiss ended, he whispered, “I still have that engagement ring up in the cabin—the one I wanted to give you five years ago.” He placed his lips against her ear. “Come with me now and let me give it to you.”

  “Oh, Jack, I’d love to. I can’t think of anything I want more. But it’s Christmas Eve. Rob’s going to bring Gramps down to the parlor tonight. Jack, it might be his last Christmas, and I think I want to be there if…when he returns to his love, just like I’ve returned to mine.”

  “I understand. The ring will wait and so will I—forever, if need be.”

  “Why don’t you and Gyp come back to the house with me? Spend the night—be there Christmas morning.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “More certain than I’ve ever been of anything.” And she convinced him with a kiss that burned away every lingering shred of doubt.

  ****

  “It’s a beautiful tree, and no mistake,” Gramps said from his chair—or perhaps more appropriately his throne—in the parlor. He sat with a blanket tucked around him and Gyp across his feet, looking brighter and happier than Becca had seen him in a long time. “Nice dog, too. Been too long since we had a dog in the house.”

  Gyp looked up at him adoringly. They’d taken to one another on sight, and she’d already bathed both his gnarled hands with kisses.

  “We have fruit cake.” Becca set the plate on the table beside him. “Your favorite.”

  “Never mind that.” Gramps tapped his glass of whiskey. “Fill this up again.”

  Becca exchanged an inquiring look with Rob. Should they?

  Rob shrugged and tipped in a tiny measure.

  Gramps said, “Looks like you two went to a lot of trouble to make this a fine Christmas Eve. Got all your grandma’s baubles and doodads out. She’d be proud.”

  Becca’s throat closed. From his spot at the end of the sofa, Jack smiled at her. She folded herself into the spot beside him and cuddled in.

  “While we’re feeling all warm and fuzzy, Jack and I have an announcement.”

  She felt him start. “You going to tell? Ring’s still at the cabin.”

  “The ring’s a formality, Jack Donner. As you said, the best things in life will wait. It can be my belated Christmas present.”

  “Formality, eh?”

  “Yup. I’ve belonged to you from the first time I looked into your eyes. It just took me some rambling before I was ready to admit it.”

  “Rambling’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Gramps said. “I’ll tell you what matters—it’s this.” He lifted his hands. “A warm house, a place to belong at the end of the day. Folks who care about you.”

  “Here’s to love,” Rob said, raising his glass.

  “Love,” Jack chimed in.

  “Love,” Becca agreed.

  And Gramps said hoarsely, “Love.”

  They drank gravely, and Becca felt the air in the room stir. Was Gran here? Had the speaking of that sacred word summoned her?

  Had she come to take her love on his greatest adventure?

  But Gramps
seemed strong and bright-eyed. When Rob stepped away to change a CD, her grandfather summoned Becca to him with a crooked finger.

  She hunkered down in front of his chair, one hand buried in Gyp’s warm fur. Her eyes met Gramps’ with genuine affection.

  “Listen to me, girl. When tomorrow comes, you go up the mountain and spend your Christmas with that young man. Understand? Make it a good one.”

  “Okay, Gramps. Just tell me one thing: will you be here when I come back down?”

  “Likely not.” Happiness twinkled in his eyes. “But that’s neither here nor there. I reckon it’s time for both of us to go home.”

  Becca’s eyes flooded anew with tears. “Not sure I ever said this before, Gramps, but I love you.”

  “I love you too, Becca girl. Now let’s celebrate. ’Cause this is a damn fine moment, and the moment’s all we ever have.”

  “Time for a sing-along,” Rob announced. “I found Gran’s favorite record. And everything’s just the way she would have wanted.”

  “Yes it is.” Becca rose, pulled Jack to his feet and smiled into his eyes. “Just the way it was always meant to be.”

  A word about the author…

  Award-winning author Laura Strickland, born and raised in Western New York, has pursued lifelong interests in lore, legend, magic, and music, all reflected in her writing. Although she enjoys travel, she’s usually happiest at home, not far from Lake Ontario, with her husband and her “fur” child, a rescue dog.

  Author of numerous historical and contemporary romances, she is the creator of the Buffalo Steampunk Adventure series set in her native city. Christmastime on Donner’s Mountain is her third Christmas novella.

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