Holding Out for Christmas

by Janet Dailey

“I understand. I just need to check on something.”

  Megan ended the call and scrolled to Conner’s number. There was no way she could turn down this once-ina-lifetime chance. But Conner had asked her for honesty. She didn’t want to accept the offer without letting him know.

  As his phone began to ring, she could feel doubt creeping in. Wouldn’t it be better to tell him about her singing career when they could talk face-to-face? But, no, she couldn’t put this off any longer. Not when he’d made it clear how vital it was that he trust her.

  The phone rang again, then again, and again, until his voice message came on. Megan sighed. She couldn’t tell her whole story on voicemail. “Conner,” she said, “I need to go back to Nashville for a couple of days. Call me and I’ll explain.”

  That was the best she could do. Now she could only hope that Conner would get the message and call her back.

  Bringing up her computer, she searched for, found, and booked a late-night flight. Amarillo, the nearest major airport, was almost two hours away by car. That meant she would have to leave soon. But Conner should still be able to call her.

  She wouldn’t have to take much. There’d be plenty of clothes and other necessities in her Nashville apartment. The only things she really needed to pack were Lacy’s.

  Laying the wig, the makeup box, the jeans, boots, jacket, and Stetson on the bed, she began arranging them in Lacy’s suitcase.

  * * *

  Conner stood in the ranch driveway, cursing as he stared down at his cell phone. He had just climbed out of the Jeep when he felt the phone, which he’d silenced for the movie, vibrate in his deep pocket. As he’d pulled it out, his fingers had lost their grip. The phone slipped out of his hand and had sunk into a deep mud puddle. By the time he’d fished it out and wiped it with a handkerchief, it was as dead as the proverbial doornail.

  Could it be salvaged? He’d heard of tricks like leaving the phone in a bag of rice to dry it out. He would try that, but meanwhile, whatever the call had been about, he’d lost it. He could only hope the call hadn’t been important. Until he could either fix the phone or buy a new one, he was out of touch and out of luck.

  * * *

  Like a Christmas tree with ten million dazzling lights, the city of Nashville glittered in the darkness. Crowded into the van with the rest of the band and their gear, Megan, dressed as Lacy, could feel her heart slamming against her ribs. The adrenaline rush, coupled with an aching sense of anticipation, was as heady as a drug. Tonight could make or break her music career. If the right people noticed her, she could be on her way to stardom—or this could turn out to be just another night, and another show.

  The day’s rehearsals had gone well. Everyone in the van was primed to walk out on that stage and perform their hearts out for ten thousand people. Megan wanted to do well, not only for herself, but for her friends in the band. She was nervous, but she felt confident and hopeful. Only one thing was troubling her.

  She hadn’t been able to reach Conner.

  When she’d failed to hear from him, she’d called from the airport. Nothing. Was he all right? Was he angry at her for some reason?

  She’d tried again this morning, with no luck. After that, she’d had to turn off her phone and focus on the rehearsal. During the break, she’d checked again. No messages. Nothing. By then, she was really getting worried. She’d even called her mother. No, Dorcas hadn’t heard from Conner. Yes, if he called, she would give him Megan’s message.

  Now all Megan could do was put him out of her mind and give her all to her performance, which was as important to her friends in the band as it was to her. She couldn’t let them down. Even her worries about Conner couldn’t be allowed to distract her.

  They parked at the rear of the building and came in through the stage entrance. While the Badger Hollow Boys set up on the open stage, Megan loosened up in the wings and watched the seats fill. The Christmas-themed concert was a sellout. Rascal Flatts were superstars. But the Badger Hollow Boys and Miss Lacy Leatherwood would be new to most of the audience. They would have less than thirty minutes to make a lasting impression.

  She checked her watch. Almost time. She could feel the sweat beneath the leather jacket and silk blouse. Her pulse was racing. She took a deep breath, heard the drumroll and announcer’s booming voice over the PA system. Then, as the band exploded into its intro, Lacy Leatherwood strutted onto the stage.

  The next half hour was a blur. Only when it was over did she realize the audience was cheering and the crew was hastily clearing the stage for the main act. She made it backstage before her knees began to shake.

  Leaning against a wall for support, she willed herself to breathe, willed her galloping pulse to slow. Had she forgotten any of the lyrics? Had she hit any sour notes? Heaven help her, she couldn’t remember.

  “Hey, you did great, Megan!” Tucker was slapping her shoulder, giving her a brotherly hug. “You nailed it, lady. You knocked ’em dead!”

  “You’re joking, right?” Megan stared at him in disbelief.

  “Why should I joke? We wowed that audience tonight. Come on.” He tugged at her arm. “We’re going out for drinks to celebrate.”

  Still dazed, Megan followed her friend toward the back door, where the musicians were putting away their instruments. The relief was slowly sinking in. The performance had been a success. She’d done all right, but she didn’t feel much like celebrating, especially if it involved alcohol. After the long night of travel, the day of rehearsals, and the adrenaline rush of performing, exhaustion was catching up with her.

  Besides, there was only one person she wanted to celebrate with. And he was out of reach.

  The band members were carrying their packed instruments and gear out to the van. Maybe she would just ask them to drop her off at her apartment. From there, she would try one more call to Conner. Then she would go to bed, catch the morning flight back to Amarillo, and drive back to Branding Iron—and Conner. She could only hope that he was all right.

  Meanwhile, she had a great deal of thinking to do and a big decision to make.

  “Coming, Megan?” Joe, the drummer, stood framed in the outside doorway with the lights of the parking lot behind him. “We’re almost done loading the van.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be right there.” Megan headed down the hallway to the door. The wig felt itchy on her head. She could hardly wait to get home and get rid of the hair, makeup, boots, and skintight jeans. “I’m pretty beat, guys,” she said, stepping outside. “I couldn’t handle a night of celebrating. I hope you won’t mind just dropping me off at my apartment.”

  “They won’t need to drop you off, Megan.” A tall, familiar figure stepped out of the shadows. “I’ll take you home.”

  Megan’s heart sank. She should have known Derek would show up.

  “Come on.”

  * * *

  With his hand at the small of her back, he guided her firmly toward his big white Cadillac. Megan was too tired to argue. She wasn’t afraid of the man. But she was in no mood for one of his interminable lectures.

  He let her into the car. She sank into the sumptuous leather seat, wishing she could go to sleep right there. But she knew that wasn’t going to happen.

  “How did you know I’d be here, Derek?” she asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “Easy enough. I called the agency that handles bookings for the band. The secretary knows I’m your boyfriend. She told me you’d be in town.”

  “You’re not my boyfriend. We broke up. Remember?” Megan was getting a headache. “Just drive me home, please. I’m exhausted.”

  He started the car and backed out of the parking place. “I saw you onstage tonight. You were . . . incandescent.”

  Only Derek would use a word like “incandescent.”

  “I did my best . . . for the band,” she said.

  “But you—you were a star up there. Seeing you, I realized you could have a great career in the music business.”

  “You mea
n Lacy could have a career.” Megan studied his chiseled profile in the darkness of the car. Derek was movie star handsome, smart, polite, attentive, and very respectable. Why wasn’t that enough?

  But she knew the answer to that question.

  “What are you really saying, Derek?” she asked. “Why did you come to pick me up tonight?”

  “To make you an offer,” he said. “You know I’ve never approved of your singing career—working in seedy bars, being ogled by the men, all for barely enough money to cover your expenses. I imagine my attitude was part of the reason you broke up with me.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “But seeing you tonight, up there on that stage, just glowing, made me realize that I was wrong. You have every right to pursue your dream, Megan. Come back to me and I’ll support your singing career one hundred percent.”

  “So I’d have your total backing to perform, when and wherever I wanted?” Her voice dripped skepticism—not that he would have noticed.

  “That’s one way to put it. I’d even let you quit your teaching job if you were ready to go full-time with your singing career.” He turned onto a quiet street and stopped at the curb. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small velvet box and opened it. An impressive-looking diamond ring glittered in the overhead light of a nearby streetlamp.

  “I know I’m supposed to get down on one knee,” he said. “But that’s not possible in the car, and it’s too cold to get out on the sidewalk.” He thrust the ring awkwardly toward her. “Megan Carson, will you marry me?”

  Megan stared at the ring, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Derek wasn’t a bad man. But the fact that he had the diamond with him hinted that he’d planned this whole setup. The things he’d said about her performance were nothing but empty flattery. She could have fallen on her face, and he still would have called her “incandescent.” For all she knew, he hadn’t even been inside the theater.

  She shoved the ring back toward him. “Put that away,” she said.

  He looked wounded. “Do you need more time?”

  “No. The truth is, I don’t want to marry you, Derek. I don’t want to date you. I don’t even want to work for you.”

  Stunned into momentary silence, he dropped the ring box back into his pocket. “There’s somebody else, isn’t there?”

  “Yes, there’s somebody else.” Just saying the words was a release.

  “Somebody in Branding Iron?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has he asked you to marry him?”

  “No.”

  “Has he told you that he loves you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “He’ll break your heart, you know.” Anger had crept into Derek’s voice. “When he does, you’ll come crawling to me and beg me to take you back.”

  Megan gave him a hint of a smile. “That’s a chance I’ll have to take—and I’m taking it because I love him. Now please drive me back to my apartment. You’ll have my letter of resignation in the next couple of days, mailed from Branding Iron. That should give you plenty of time to find a replacement for my job.”

  “And what about your great singing career?” Derek started the car and pulled away from the curb. “You weren’t really incandescent up there, you know. You can barely sing on key, and in that Lacy Leatherwood getup, you look like a two-bit streetwalker.”

  He was trying to hurt her now, but Megan couldn’t help finding a bit of truth in his words. Maybe, just maybe, he was right.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. “Just drive.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Derek let her out in front of her building and drove away, with a roar and a squeal of tires. Still costumed as Lacy, Megan took the elevator upstairs to her one-bedroom apartment and let herself in.

  Before doing anything else, she found her cell phone in her purse and tried calling Conner again. There was no answer, not even voicemail. What was wrong? Surely, if Conner had been in some awful accident, her parents would have heard about it and called her. Maybe there was just something wrong with his phone, but she wouldn’t rest easy until she knew for sure. She had Tracy’s number and called her, but could only leave a message. If she’d thought to get the phone numbers of his partners, or Maggie, she would have called them. But Conner’s and Tracy’s numbers were the only ones she had.

  Still worried, she began the process of removing her costume, laying out the clothes, wig, boots, and makeup case and packing them away for the trip home to Branding Iron. She wouldn’t be wearing them again until the night of the Cowboy Christmas Ball. Maybe after that, she would pack Lacy Leatherwood away for good. It was time.

  And why not? Tonight she’d burnt her final bridges with Derek and her job. She would miss her friends in the band, but they’d have no trouble finding a new and perhaps more talented singer. And one of the teachers at school was looking for an apartment. It was as if her life only needed a nudge from her, and everything would fall into place.

  Her nerves were still raw from the final parting with Derek. It hadn’t been pleasant, but it had to happen. Maybe he would now meet a woman who wouldn’t mind his controlling ways—and could hopefully stand up to them.

  Derek’s words had been brutal, but they’d forced her to clarify her thoughts. True, Conner had a reputation for breaking hearts, and he’d never told her that he loved her. But he had trust issues of his own. If she wanted to get around those issues, she would have to love him enough to be completely honest—and that would include revealing her secret identity as Lacy.

  With a tired yawn, she set the alarm, crawled into bed, and tried to sleep. But her mind was churning with worries and plans. Her flight left early tomorrow morning. After it landed, she would have to drive home from Amarillo. By the time she arrived in Branding Iron, it would be midday.

  After a quick check-in with her family, she would set out to find Conner—or at least find out what had happened to him. She would go to the ranch first. If he wasn’t there, she would go to Maggie’s.

  She could only hope that he was all right, and that, when she finally told him the truth about being Lacy, he would forgive her.

  * * *

  Conner finished cutting the season’s last tree and loaded it onto the trailer. Pausing to rest a moment, he gazed out beyond the dark pines to the horizon, where muddy-looking clouds were spilling over the western hills. The December sky was clear, but the breeze on his face smelled of snow. Did he dare to hope for a storm that would bring a white Christmas?

  After tying the load of trees onto the trailer and checking the hitch, he climbed into the driver’s seat of the ATV, whistled for the dog, and headed back down the trail toward the house. Bucket made a flying leap to land beside him on the passenger seat.

  Conner and Rush had been cutting and hauling trees all morning, but now Rush had left on an emergency call. Conner was on his own. He was still waiting for the cell phone he’d ordered after giving up on the one he’d dropped in the puddle. This morning, he’d borrowed Rush’s phone and tried to call Megan, but after a few rings, the call had gone to voicemail. Twice—once yesterday and once last night, he’d driven by her house, thinking to find her and explain about the phone. But both times, her car had been missing from the driveway, and he hadn’t wanted to disturb her family.

  Things had been so good between them on Sunday. What had happened? Some emergency? Since he knew she couldn’t call him, all he could do was wait and hope.

  As he neared the house, he saw her small blue Toyota pulling into the driveway. His pulse kicked into high gear. If she got out of the vehicle, she would know he was home. She’d see his Jeep parked under the shed and hear the roar of the approaching ATV.

  He watched her climb out of the car. Yes—she’d seen him coming. She was waving. Everything was going to be all right.

  As he pulled up to the house, Bucket jumped to the ground and raced over to greet the newcomer. Conner shut down the engine and climbed out of the ATV. As he walked toward her, she ran to him and flung herself into his open
arms.

  He held her close, loving the feel of her in his arms. She trembled against him, so delicate and vulnerable, and yet so strong. But he could sense that she was troubled.

  “What is it?” he murmured, his lips against her hair.

  She raised her head to look up at him. Tears glimmered in her dark eyes. “I just got back from Nashville. I called and called to tell you I was leaving. But I couldn’t reach you. I was afraid something had gone wrong.”

  “Hey, I’m fine.” His arms tightened around her. “Just my blasted phone—dropped it in a puddle and it stopped working. I tried to find you and tell you, but you were gone. This morning, I was able to call you on Rush’s phone. When you didn’t answer, I left a message.”

  “I must’ve been on the plane. And I haven’t checked my messages since I landed in Amarillo.”

  “But you say you went to Nashville?” He hated having to ask the question. “What for?”

  When she hesitated, the first thing Conner thought of was the boyfriend she’d broken up with. Had she gone to be with him? Was she about to tell him they were back together?

  “Tell me,” he said. “It’s all right. I just want the truth.”

  “And the truth is what I’m about to give you.” She eased away, reached into her coat pocket, and handed him the keys to her car. “There’s a suitcase in the trunk. If you’ll get it and take it into the house for me, I’ll show you what’s inside.”

  Conner strode toward the car, opened the trunk, and tossed her the keys. “What’s in it?” he joked, retrieving the suitcase. “A million dollars? A dead body?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The suitcase was medium-sized and not too heavy. Megan walked beside him as he carried it toward the porch. “I meant to ask,” she said. “How’s Travis?”

  “Getting better. He’s at Maggie’s now. She’s giving him plenty of TLC. And the wedding’s still on track.”

  “That’s great news. Nobody deserves a happy day more than those two.”

  With Bucket tagging behind them, he carried the suitcase up the steps and through the front door. “Where do you want this?” he asked.