Montana Christmas Magic

by Casey Dawes

  “It turns out my parents had put aside money for all of us when we got married. They decided to give me my share as an investment instead.” She was light-headed for the first time in her life when they’d handed her the check. “With my father’s help, I got a loan, and here I am.”

  “And here you are.” He sipped his coffee and studied her, his blue eyes unreadable. “But what am I doing here?”

  She held her breath. This was it. She was going to find out if what she had to say would make any difference in their lives. Could he step off his headlong trajectory long enough to see what he already had in his hand?

  “When I left New York, there were things I didn’t say. I wanted you here. I’ve seen you in both places, and I know in my heart where you are happiest.”

  “Even if you think I don’t.”

  She nodded.

  “Pretty judgmental of you.”

  She nodded again.

  “I can’t help it,” she said. “It’s what I believe is the truth.”

  “So you brought me out in the Montana cold to get me to stay?”

  “It’s not that much colder than Manhattan with all those wind tunnels. You haven’t gone through February yet.”

  For some reason, the banter exhausted her more than a serious conversation. She’d loved that about them—even in New York—their ability to get silly now and then. Problem was, as time went on, he’d grown less playful and more focused.

  She straightened her spine.

  “I can’t pretend to know how you feel,” she said. “But I knew it was important to let you know how I felt. New York confused me so much, I lost sight of that.”

  She ran her finger across the wood grain of the old table before steeling herself and taking his hand.

  He didn’t move, but he didn’t stop looking at her, either.

  “I love you. If we can figure out a way, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  There. It was out. At least the beginning. She needed to tell him the whole thing.

  “When I explained it to my dad,” she continued, “I drew him a bunch of pictures—his suggestion.” She pulled the portfolio from where she’d put it on the side of the table. She laid them out on the table.

  Logan picked up each one and examined it.

  “Who are these kids?” He pointed to a group learning to ride small ponies.

  “Oh ... uh, ours ... and others’. I figured if mothers couldn’t get away from their kids, they could bring them with them.”

  He tilted his head down and looked up from under his eyebrows.

  Had she dreamed too big?

  “We’d ... I mean I ... would have to hire someone to teach them how to ride and keep them entertained.”

  “Bring them to town to get ice cream and violate the sweet shop?”

  A smile played on his lips.

  Maybe this wouldn’t go south.

  “I had a vision,” she said. “One night as I slept, I could see it all.” She feathered his hand with her fingertips. “You could make a living woodworking, maybe teach some tennis.”

  He snorted.

  “To who?”

  “Um ... we could build a tennis court. You could have a camp, too.”

  His face shuttered.

  She’d lost him.

  “I play professional tennis,” he said, biting out every word. “I don’t teach.”

  “But you could ...” Urgency flooded her voice.

  “Go on,” was all he said.

  She took what felt like her last breath.

  “I’m offering you a family ... a place for you to be who you really are ... where people love you because you exist, not because you’ve won a bunch of trophies.” The tears began to build as hope slipped away. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  She rested her case, pulled her hand away after one last squeeze, and waited.

  A full minute went by.

  Then he shook his head.

  “I can’t.” His voice hitched. “This ...”—he swept his hand around the room—“is alien. I spent some good times with Willy, but it was a summer vacation. I have a life. I’m a tennis pro. Like it or not, dreams or not, it’s what I am.”

  “Are you?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  His eyes lost their light, and the corners of his mouth sagged. He shook his head and put the coffee cup in the sink.

  Slipping on his jacket, he headed to the door, and she followed.

  Hobo jumped up from his corner and waited in anticipation of a ride, tail wagging with joy.

  “Sorry.” He patted the dog on the head. “Not this time. So sorry.” His gaze lifted to include her.

  Then he was gone.

  • • •

  Logan stared through the windshield, his eyesight blurry, as he headed down the driveway.

  Was he going to regret this the rest of his life?

  He stopped at the end of the drive and sat there.

  Why was he insisting he was a tennis player?

  Are you?

  Every time he went to the court, he was pushing through something to get the joy back he’d once had. Instead of a vocation, it had become a job. It was sheer stubbornness that was making him play.

  His real pleasure was in Jake’s workshop. And as the man had said, a workshop could be anywhere.

  But the girl was only in one place.

  Here.

  He dialed his coach, thankful for cell reception.

  “Where are you?” the other man asked.

  “Montana. Listen, you’re going to need to take me off the tournament circuit. There’s still time, isn’t there?”

  “Deadline’s next week. But why? You’re ready. You’re not getting any younger. The last chance is right now.”

  In so many ways.

  “I can’t do it. It’s not what I’m meant to do.”

  “Sounds airy-fairy. What is it you think you’re supposed to do?” Sarcasm and frustration fought for dominance.

  “I’ll figure it out. But first, I need to spend Christmas in Montana.”

  He said his goodbyes and made a U-turn.

  When he opened the door, Julie was crouched in the living room, coat on, cradling Hobo in her arms while she washed his fur with tears.

  “Logan?” She stood.

  “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry I put you through this. I don’t want to be a tennis star. I want to be here, with the best darn artist and retreat manager in the country.” He pulled her close to him. “I want you. I love you.”

  “Yes.”

  She lifted her face to his, and they kissed with all the passion he’d ever wanted from anything or anyone—more than tennis, more than woodworking, more than New York.

  He’d chosen the girl, the dog, and the ranch in Montana.

  Epilogue

  Logan persuaded Julie to take one more trip with him to New York to see the city’s decorations, but he promised they’d only stay for a week.

  This time they both stayed at his apartment. Logan turned out to be a patient and tender lover, yet still showing how passionately he loved her.

  Although his parents were less than thrilled about the change of plans, they made her welcome with a brief dinner party.

  As if sensing her nervousness, Logan stayed by her side, introducing her to everyone who arrived and deflecting the curiosity of some of the women his age.

  The women she supposed he’d ditched in favor of a small-town girl in Montana.

  Throughout the evening, he kissed her several times, as if proving who he loved.

  Her favorite couple was an older man and his wife, a pair Logan had insisted be invited.

  “Jake and Louise Abernathy.” The old man shook her hand with great enthusiasm. “You must be the gal from Montana—the one he didn’t let get away.”

  It took her a moment to place him.

  “Ah, Logan’s wood-making friend.”

  “Yes, that’s me.” The balding head nodd
ed up and down vigorously. “He’s got talent, that boy. He says he’s going to continue making furniture when you guys get settled in.”

  “He’s got a workshop all set up.”

  “I bet he can’t wait to get started when you guys get home.”

  The couple drifted off to talk to other guests.

  Did Logan expect her to move in with him when they got back to Montana? Being together in New York was one thing, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to put the cart before the horse on a permanent basis.

  “What’s up?” he asked as they headed back to his place once the party was through.

  “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

  “C’mon.” He took her hand. “I’ve known you for a while now.”

  But how to let him know what she wanted without making him obligated to propose to her?

  Except, that was exactly what she was doing.

  He let her sort through her thoughts until they sat down in his living room.

  “Wine?” he asked.

  “Oh, no more. I don’t think I can drink another glass of the stuff for weeks.”

  “My little country beer drinker.” He chuckled.

  “Water would be great,” she replied with a smile.

  “Good idea.”

  “Talk to me,” he said after handing her a glass. “We can figure anything out if we talk about it. You taught me that.”

  “I can’t live with you in Phillipsburg,” she blurted out.

  He was silent for a few seconds.

  “I hadn’t really thought about it,” he said. “I’ve been so busy trying to figure out the logistics of getting my stuff out there and setting up as a craftsperson, I assumed you’d be busy, too. Plus,” he added as he studied his hands. “I know this is a big deal to you. I’m honored you trusted me enough to be together with me now. On a more permanent basis, unless we were married, I can see why you wouldn’t.”

  “I don’t want to force you into marrying me.”

  “Oh, honey, I’d never feel forced to marry you. I’ve waited all my life for someone like you. I was just stupid enough to almost miss it.” He smiled and covered her hand with his. “We’ll figure it out. If you want to spend time with your family, I don’t mind.”

  “You’re forgetting something.” She’d been waiting for the right moment to remind him.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s my ranch. You sold it to me, remember?”

  “Well, damn it, I did!” He slapped his hand to his forehead in a V8 moment and chuckled. “I guess I’d better plan on paying you rent if I’m going to stay there.”

  “You bet!” She couldn’t wait to tell her dad they had their first return on their investment.

  Once again, their lovemaking was sweet and full of hope. There was rockiness ahead, no doubt, but they’d get through it.

  A few days later, loaded down with presents she’d purchased for her family, she boarded the plane. Logan was flying out in a few days; once he’d finished making arrangements to have his belongings shipped to Phillipsburg and found a tenant to lease his apartment.

  Was he keeping his options open?

  “Right now isn’t a good time to sell it—I can get more for rent,” he said, as if anticipating her concern.

  Trust, she reminded herself as the plane took off. She had to have faith in his love for her and hers for him. Otherwise, she’d never be able to move ahead.

  Love. She was finally in love.

  For good.

  • • •

  He was going to have to get used to driving in this weather. Logan slowed as the edge of the road disappeared in the whiteness. Reflectors on both sides of the road, as well as tracks from previous vehicles, gave him the only clues to the safe path.

  It wasn’t simply the weather causing him to sweat. Meeting Julie’s parents for the first time could go so many ways. Would they be ready to accept him as the man for their daughter? It was Christmas, and he had presents, but would they perceive him as Santa or the Grinch?

  He sighed with relief when he pulled into the drive. Julie hadn’t been kidding when she said it was a small town. If it had ten blocks, that was a lot.

  She must have been watching for him, because the minute he pulled up, she was out the door—coatless.

  “What are you doing? You’ll freeze!” he said.

  “I’m tough!” she said. “This will warm me.” She pulled his head down to hers and gave him a long, lingering kiss.

  In front of God and everyone.

  Could he love her any more than he already did?

  “C’mon. That’s not going to last long. Help me with the presents.”

  Soon they were inside, and he was being introduced to what seemed like mobs of people: pint-sized and the normal edition. For a small house, they could stuff a lot of humanity in the space. Yet the warmth of the people and place engulfed him and brought him into the fold.

  “I’m told you’re a woodworker,” Julie’s father said after he handed Logan a beer. “So am I. How about you come see my workshop? Maybe you could give me a few pointers.”

  Here it comes.

  Logan followed him out the back door.

  For a small space, the shop was well maintained and organized. Looking at the piece on the workbench, Logan could see Julie’s dad was a detail man who could blend a repair seamlessly into the original.

  “Julie and I’ve spent a lot of time here while she was growing up. She’d tell me all about her boyfriends, classes, and dreams for her artwork. We spent a chunk of time out here discussing you, too.”

  “I’m sorry I made it so difficult for your daughter. It was tough for me to realize that what I thought I wanted wasn’t what my heart desired all along.”

  The man nodded and took a long sip of his beer.

  Logan followed suit.

  “I had this talk with all the men my girls’ got serious with. Julie’s my last one. She’ll always be a special little girl.

  “I expect you to treat her right.” His stare drilled into Logan’s eyes. “She’s head over heels with you. I’m not saying I’m a violent man, but ...”

  “It is Montana,” Logan finished.

  He nodded.

  “Let me put your mind at rest.” Logan took a small box from the inside of his pocket and opened to display a sparkling Yogo sapphire in a gold setting. “I had this specially made. I intend to give it to Julie tonight. With your permission, of course.”

  The older man nodded.

  “She’ll love that.”

  “I hope so.”

  Julie’s father stuck out his hand. “Congratulations. You’ll be good for each other. I can already tell.”

  With the strong acceptance warming his heart, Logan impatiently waited for the dinner to be over and the retreat to the festively decorated Christmas tree in the den, where the children were being allowed one family present before Santa came in the morning.

  He knew the plan was for the family to attend church in the morning before rejoining as a clan at one of the sisters’ houses. When Julie slipped into the pew, he wanted everyone to know just where they stood.

  “Let’s take a walk,” he said when the chaos started to die down. “I need to clear my head.”

  “Can’t take the noise?” She laughed. “It is a bit much. Okay—a short one, though, it’s getting seriously cold out there.”

  “That’s all it will take,” he said.

  They strolled down the street in the quiet starlit night.

  “They always seem closer here than anywhere else,” she said, pointing at the sky. “As a girl, I always thought they were pinpricks into heaven.”

  “I’ve got my heaven right here on earth,” he said, taking her hand by the town park, where a large tree blossomed with old-fashioned colored bulbs.

  Getting on one knee, he gazed up at her face, haloed by a nearby streetlight.

  “Julie Thompson. I don’t want to spend another day on earth without you by my side.
Will you marry me?”

  “Yes. With all my heart, yes.”

  He opened the box and gave her the ring.

  “It’s beautiful! It’s perfect!” She threw her arms around him, the ring glinting in the light.

  Over her shoulder, one of the stars seemed to flash.

  In his heart, he knew exactly who it was.

  Willy.

  Acknowledgments

  First, thank you to my editor, Julie Sturgeon, who makes me a better writer every time we work together. And always, thanks to my darling husband who keeps me supplied with love every day.

  About the Author

  Casey Dawes has lived a varied life—some by choice, some by circumstance. Her master’s degree in theater didn’t prepare her for anything practical, so she’s been a teacher, stagehand, secretary, database guru, manager in Corporate America, business coach, and writer.

  She and her husband live in Montana, where she quilts, writes, edits, and formats on the banks of the Clark Fork River.

  Visit her website at www.stories-about-love.com.

  More from This Author

  Sweet Montana Christmas

  Casey Dawes

  After six months as a public safety officer at Missoula International Airport, something had to give for Zach Crippin. He couldn’t be stuck in Montana for the rest of his airport career.

  He checked his gear bag one more time before he threw it in the locker for the start of his ten-hour shift. A quick look in the mirror showed him his uniform was pressed and tidy and his streaked blond hair was neatly combed. Almost time for a haircut. He had to look and act sharp—be at the top of his game.

  Couldn’t the chief see he was ready for a leadership role? Or was the stupid mistake he’d made in Denver still holding him back?

  “All quiet?” he asked as he walked into the break room.

  “Tony’s patrolling the perimeter, and Jim’s out front making nice with the last of the Christmas travelers,” Pat Neucomb said, looking up from the training manual he was reading.

  “Once all the festivities have passed, they’re ready to get home,” Zach agreed, trying to make small talk. It wasn’t one of his strengths. Especially with people he didn’t like.