Maybe This Christmas: A Sweet Historical Western Holiday Romance Novella (Holidays in Mountain Home Book 2)

by Kristin Holt

  “I’m scared.” Admitting that truth made her feel helpless, raw.

  “Why?”

  “I’m no good at this. I thought I loved Gus once, but that didn’t last. My marriage was a disaster—I’m not capable of loving a man forever. I doubt I even know what love is.”

  Her friend gazed at her with compassion and understanding. A long moment passed, and Effie’s trepidation grew.“When you’re paired with the right man, it’s easy.”

  Miranda spoke from experience—one year into marriage, she knew she’d made the best possible choice.

  “How do I know if he’s the right man?” How could anyone possibly know, until time proved it so?

  Her heart thundered and dread tightened her chest. Why had she ever allowed herself to consider taking this risk? It would’ve been infinitely safer to hold fast to her resolution to remain unmarried. Safer, more certain…and significantly lonelier.

  The baby yawned widely, screwed up his tiny features and cried pitifully. Miranda reached for her son and snuggled him close. The babe continued to fuss. “I had a hard time trusting Hunter. Remember?

  Effie nodded.

  “When I paused to examine my heart, what I truly felt inside, I knew. I knew he was the right man for me. I suspect you and Luke are meant for each other. He’s known this for a year and a half—and I believe you’ll come to know it, too.”

  Chapter Eight

  The night of the Annual Children’s Program, Luke came to the solemn conclusion that two marriage-minded men could not court the same woman.

  Effie sat between Luke and Gus on a pew. Gus had the aisle seat, and a steady stream of well-wishers paraded past, made all sorts of excuses to say hello to Effie and to shake Gus’s hand.

  Gus must’ve jostled Effie from the other side, for her wide hat brim caught Luke in the cheek.

  “Sorry,” she mouthed, and they shared a secret smile—one bright spot in this ridiculous night.

  Sheriff Talmadge came next in line to shake Gus’s hand. Sandwiched together as they were, Luke couldn’t help but overhear.

  “It’ll be mighty fine to have you in our office, son.” The sheriff pumped Gus’s hand in a hearty shake. “Glad to make it permanent.”

  Permanent? Shoot. Not what Luke had in mind when he’d asked Talmadge to keep Gus busy.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “The Service will be sorry to lose you.”

  Gus chuckled. “I wired my resignation early this morning. They accepted, so I won’t need to make the journey just to sign out.”

  From the pew behind them, Mrs. Whipple leaned forward between Effie and Gus. “Mrs. Abbott tells me you offered a generous sum for their home. Is it true?”

  “Don’t know how generous it was,” Gus turned in his seat to better address Mrs. Whipple, “But we’ll make it official in a few days when my wired funds arrive at the bank.”

  Dread slammed into Luke’s gut with the speed of a locomotive. Gus, buying the finest house in Mountain Home?

  “I know how long she’s been talking about wanting to sell that big house. With their family grown and the stairs getting harder to navigate, she’s been planning a house that’s just right. No stairs. Small.”

  “Glad to be of assistance.” Gus winked…apparently at Effie.

  “Well, that’s mighty fine news.” Sheriff Talmadge grinned. “That’s a lovely home, a lovely home indeed. And a short walk to the sheriff’s office. And not far at all from Pettingill’s.”

  Luke’s thoughts reeled. How on earth could he combat this latest assault? Gus, moving here, permanently, buying a big home meant for a wife and family. Mighty sure of himself, wasn’t he?

  Luke’s guts twisted as he realized how much he didn’t know. Had Effie given Gus reason to believe he had a chance? Luke had been around plenty in the past weeks, but no doubt Gus’d found opportunity to spend time alone with her.

  Luke nudged her, and she glanced at him, clearly stunned by Gus’s disclosures.

  Whether that was good news or not, Luke couldn’t decide. Maybe the stunned expression meant she was overjoyed at the thoughts of that grand house…and living there as Gus’s wife.

  Luke knew he must do something, anything, to compete..

  Now Gus had Effie’s complete attention and Luke didn’t like it, not one bit.

  “It’ll be a fine thing indeed,” the sheriff said, “to have you join our community. You’ve won the hearts of the people, saving Doc and all. They’ll feel safe, with you on duty.”

  Mrs. Whipple gasped. “You saved Doc?”

  Gus nodded. “His horse came trotting home this morning, past the sheriff’s office, without him. I went to inspect and found Doc in the snow about three miles out. He’d called on the Nance family. Out cold, he was. I got him home.”

  “Doc woke up about halfway back to town,” Talmadge said. “He’s at home, resting. Likely be as good as new ‘fore long, thanks to Gus.”

  “What do you think, Miss Effie?” Gus asked, his expression a mixture of boyish hope and a confidence and certainty that made Luke seethe, “think you’re gonna like having me around?”

  She made a non-committal sound that could’ve meant anything from possibly to I’m going to kill you as soon as no one’s looking. Luke wouldn’t allow himself to read anything positive into her choked response.

  Talmadge laughed. “Well, if she’s not happy about it, there’s at least a half-dozen marriageable young ladies who’ll be happy to hear you’re here to stay—my daughter among them. The ladies consider you quite a catch.”

  “I’m flattered.” Gus dropped a meaty palm on Effie’s knee. “But I’ve got my heart set on a certain young lady.”

  “You,” Effie stated, “are not talking about me.”

  Luke smiled at that her denial.

  Gus chuckled. “Who else would I refer to, Sweetheart? Everyone knows I’ve been sweet on you nearly half my life.”

  The organ tapered off through closing notes, and Reverend Gilbert stood behind the podium.

  Effie’s posture stiffened. “Gus—”

  The sheriff laughed and Gus joined in.

  Were these men idiots?

  Luke took Effie’s hand and knew a moment’s pleasure when she held on tight.

  Folks hushed the talkers and Sheriff Talmadge waved goodbye and headed for his seat. Mrs. Whipple settled back into her place behind them.

  Their amusement wasn’t mean-spirited, or Luke would’ve been on his feet and hauling Gus outside—town hero or not.

  Luke cringed as Gus snagged Effie’s attention…and from Luke’s vantage point, it seemed they shared a lengthy, private moment of earnest conversation.

  Luke held Effie’s hand and wished all the way to Monday he had her to himself.

  How was he supposed to make that happen?

  Through the first musical number by the children’s choir, Luke mulled over the dizzying news.

  He knew one thing as sure as shootin’: Gus would hold on, keep fighting for her right up until she told him how it was going to be. Nothing Luke had done had convinced Gus to take his attentions elsewhere. No. If Luke were to have Effie to himself, she’d have to be the one to tell Gus to go.

  First chance he got, he’d let Effie know things had to change.

  The following afternoon, Effie left Noelle in charge and hurried to Murphy’s Mercantile for groceries. She picked up a loaf of Whipple’s Bakery bread, a one-pound bag of whole nuts, and four fresh oranges. She added several canned items to her order and had just paid when Luke entered the store.

  She turned to him, a cheerful greeting dying on her lips. Something was wrong.

  “Mrs. O’Leary.” Luke’s tone bit deep, like frostbite.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “We need to talk.”

  Effie glanced back to the counter to find Mrs. Murphy watching them, listening with unabashed curiosity. Mr. Murphy had paused in his sweeping. The older man wiped a palm down his white grocer’s apron and
hadn’t the good sense to look away. “I’ll be back for my purchases momentarily.”

  She lifted the hood of her cloak as Luke opened the front door for her.

  He followed on her heels. “Not at your shop. Noelle’s there.”

  Of course. He wouldn’t want an audience any more than she did. Where to go? She glanced both ways on Main, realizing every business would have people coming and going. They wouldn’t find a warm, sheltered place for a conversation. And by the look on Luke’s face, this conversation must happen now.

  Without another word, Luke took her elbow and guided her toward her business. Before they reached it, he turned her down an alleyway between buildings and toward the empty lot behind. They passed her necessary standing in a copse of bare, snow-laden trees, and beyond into an empty, forested plot beyond. At least they were out of the way of prying eyes.

  Luke halted and turned her toward him. His expression was grim, but all menace had fled.

  “You can’t have both of us,” he stated. “It’s time to choose.”

  “I don’t want you both.” She blinked, blindsided, but yet she’d known it would come to this. The Annual Children’s Program last night had been miserable for them all. She’d been a fool to think they could sit together as friends.

  “I’m courting you, he’s courting you, and I’m putting a stop to it. I realize you very well might choose him—it’s a risk I’ll have to take.”

  She’d never seen him so distressed. Tension constricted his voice and a prominent vein pulsed on his forehead. “Luke—”

  “This morning, I purchased this property.” His gaze bored into hers. “I bought it to build you a big, comfortable house, with convenient access to your shop. A house for us.”

  “I don’t understand—”

  He had her by both elbows. “Not two minutes later, what do I hear? Our illustrious town hero, August Rose the Magnificent, obtained a marriage license with you listed as bride.”

  “I did not agree to such a thing.” Indignation flared. Did no one ask her what she wanted? First Gus and now Luke.

  “Didn’t ask you about that, did he?” Luke swore under his breath. “Never mind. Of course he didn’t.”

  “This isn’t a competition—I’m not a prize. You didn’t ask me, either.”

  “To marry me? I most certainly did.”

  “No, he hadn’t—he’d told her he intended to court her at a leisurely pace and one day, when she was ready, he would ask. But that was an argument for another time. “You didn’t ask me if I’d like to live here, this close to my shop. You just bought the property.” Irritation made her sound petty, irritable, most unlike herself. She didn’t like the woman she’d become under the pressure of courtship from two men.

  “It was a Christmas present.” His voice rose, startling a flock of birds from the bare branches overhead. They took flight and scattered. “I intended to slip the deed in your Christmas stocking on my parents’ mantle, but Gus’s marriage license derailed those plans. Word about is he’s planning on a New Year’s wedding.”

  She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her go. She growled with frustration. “Will neither of you stop to consider I might want a say in my future?”

  “Effie—” Shock registered on his features. “I did listen. You told me you want to stay here, in Mountain Home. You told me you love your business…so I figured out how we could make that work, how I could adapt my life to fit with yours.”

  His temper cooled, exposing heartrending sadness. “Are you planning to marry him?”

  At this moment, she didn’t want either of them. “No.”

  “Good.” Without warning, Luke pulled her into his arms and nuzzled his mouth against her jaw and neck and scattering kisses.

  She couldn’t resist the pull of his warm, pliant mouth upon hers. He awoke a startling sense of right.

  Is this what Miranda had meant? That she would know, with certainty, that Luke was the right man for her?

  “I love you,” he whispered against her ear. “I love you, Effie.”

  She stilled. She’d have thought his declaration would bring happiness, overwhelming warmth and completion, because she’d waited her entire life to hear those words. A great chill seemed to overtake her instead. She shivered.

  He stilled, eased back, and held her gaze—a silent demand she confess the same.

  She couldn’t. How did one form those three words in that particular order? She’d never once told another soul that she loved them. Deep down, she doubted she knew the meaning of love. Never once had either parent expressed affection, not to each other and not to their children. Among the Scofields, it simply wasn’t done.

  During her youthful romance with Gus, they’d never uttered the words. Yes, she’d fancied herself in love with him, but now it was obvious she had not. Her infatuation had withered upon their separation.

  She’d never been in love, and sincerely doubted she could be.

  How could she lie about something so crucial to Luke, who knew what love was? To force those words, just to please him, seemed a greater betrayal than the lies she’d told upon arriving in Mountain Home.

  Staring into Luke’s heated gaze, she knew she couldn’t say it, wouldn’t.

  He waited. As if he desperately needed to hear the words.

  Resignation formed on his dear features, firming the set of his jaw, dimming the hopeful light in his eyes. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the column of his throat. “We cannot go on like this. I won’t go on like this. You must tell him you’ve chosen me.”

  That was no hardship. Her heart had already chosen. “I have. I’ve told him repeatedly.”

  He shook his head. “Telling him you will never marry again is not the same thing as telling him you’ve chosen me, that you will wed me.”

  Yes, she’d kissed Luke, wanted his affection and his kisses, and been moved by an undeniable connection between them. But it was all happening far too quickly. Without warning, her head swam and she feared she’d faint. Had she decided she would forfeit every freedom and marry Luke Finlay?

  Her pulse pounded. What had happened to his gentle promises of patience? Hadn’t he told her he’d wait until she was ready? But that was before Gus announced he would live in Mountain Home, spent far too much money on a grand house, and applied for a marriage license.

  “You’re right.” She’d held Gus at bay with claims she’d never remarry—and her foolish choice to step into Luke’s embrace the day he’d installed the new stove. But she’d not explained herself, hadn’t told Gus how her heart had softened toward Luke. “There is a difference.”

  “Tell him.”

  He’d always looked at her with patience, compassion, as if the sun rose and set with her. Was it merely the marriage license and home purchase that triggered this lack of patience and compassion?

  “I will. Soon.”

  She searched his face, alarmed at the coldness in his expression.

  “When?”

  “By Christmas—maybe after the holidays. I’ve tried to make him understand—and he couldn’t—this might take time.”

  “You have until Christmas, Effie. Five days.” He swallowed, his throat working even as his jaw clenched. “If you can’t let him go, if you can’t choose me, tell the world you’ve chosen me—” Emotion tinged his words with a bone-deep desperation that cut her to the quick. “We’re through.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Mrs. O’Leary—why, what brings you out in a snowstorm?” Mrs. Talmadge, a hen-breasted, middle-aged woman with kind eyes ushered Effie into her warm kitchen. The house smelled of spiced apples and buttery pastry, mingled with rich coffee.

  “I’m looking for August Rose, or your husband. The Sheriff’s office is vacant.”

  “Haven’t you heard?” Mrs. Talmadge took Effie’s cloak and bonnet and seated her near the warmth of the stove. “My man’s in bed with a cough. Doc was here two nights ago, insisted he stay down.”

  “He’s ill
? I hadn’t heard. I’m sorry—”

  “Thank goodness that man of yours came—”

  “He’s not—” Effie interrupted, but it was no good. Mrs. Talmadge kept on as if Effie hadn’t spoken.

  “—to town when he did. Deputy Rose is out with a half-dozen riders, searching for that troublesome Erickson boy who ran off night before last. He’s caused his mama more than her share of worry.”

  It all made sense now, why messages left at the boardinghouse—both verbal and written, as well as on the sheriff’s desk—had gone unanswered.

  Mrs. Talmadge set a steaming cup before Effie.

  “August Rose is not my man.” She stirred cream and sugar into her coffee.

  “That’s not what I heard tell.”

  “That’s the problem—lots of talk going around, but it is inaccurate.”

  No wonder Luke had reacted so strongly to hearing about a marriage license on top of all the whispered bits of developing romance. He hadn’t known what to believe.

  Perhaps it was time to send a note to Luke. He deserved to know she’d made every reasonable attempt to locate Gus. Sooner or later, the trouble with the Erickson boy would pass, and Gus would go back to sitting at the sheriff’s desk until Talmadge recovered and could hold down that post.

  “It’s not accurate? Whatever do you mean?”

  “August and I are friends, that’s all. I have no intention of wedding him.”

  “I hear tell he bought you the mayor’s house. And plans a New Year’s wedding in that fancy parlor.”

  “It’s news to me. I never agreed to either.”

  “Why ever not?” Mrs. Talmadge blinked, startled by the news. “Why would you walk away from a fairytale?”