The Gift-Wrapped Groom

by M. J. Rodgers

  The judge picked up her gavel, ready to pronounce her decision. “I find that there is insufficient evidence to warrant deportation of Dr. Nicholas Baranov. Case dismissed.”

  The gavel came down with a sharp rap. “Five-minute recess.”

  Nicholas stood absolutely rooted to the floor in shock.

  Before he even had time to gather his thoughts, a hand reached in front of him. It was followed by a face wearing a smile.

  “Dr. Baranov, my name is Joseph Wendt. I head the personnel department at the Idaho National Engineering Lab.”

  Nicholas took the hand offered to him, looked into the face of the man who had just given his name, neither seeing the face nor hearing the name. The man prolonged the handshake.

  “Dr. Baranov, I’m sorry about this misunderstanding. As soon as you mentioned protesting the Afghanistan invasion as the reason for your incarceration, well, it brought back a lot of memories of a fellow countryman of yours, a Dr. Andrei Sakharov. His writings were most illuminating on the plight of those who ended up under psychiatric care for speaking their conscience in Soviet Russia.”

  “Yes,” Nicholas agreed, barely heeding the words.

  “Anyway, I just came up to tell you that if you’re still interested in that job at the lab, we’d be honored if you could start right after the holidays. Monday, January second, nine o’clock, to be exact. If that’s convenient?”

  Nicholas blinked at the smiling man in front of him as the words he spoke finally sank in. “Yes,” Nicholas said, coming alive, shaking the hand in his with enthusiasm. “That will be most...convenient.”

  Joseph Wendt’s smile got bigger as he released Nicholas’s hand and stepped away.

  And then Nicholas found himself face-to-face with Noel.

  * * *

  NOEL FELT his warm black eyes on her face, caressing her hair, her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. And then, suddenly, he had closed the distance between them and she was in his warm steel arms, captured tightly against his chest.

  She had just done what she had promised herself she’d never do again. She had told a man of her love, not knowing, not daring to hope, that he loved her, too. And now that she felt him holding her so closely that the beat of his strong heart seemed to come from inside her, she knew if this was all he could give, she would take it. Somehow, someway, she would make it enough.

  Slowly, he pulled back from her until his diamond black eyes glowed into hers, warming her with their heat and more. Then, slowly, he began to speak, his growly Russian voice carrying throughout the silent courtroom. Only this time his words were in English.

  “I, Nicholas Baranov, promise thee, Noel Winsome, my wedded wife, to love you, to cherish you, to honor you, to comfort you, to keep you in sickness and in health, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, forsaking all others, for as long as I shall live, I swear this.”

  Noel’s heart expanded inside her chest, so full, so happy, tears filled her eyes. “Nicholas,” was all she had a chance to say in breathless wonder before he sealed his pledge with his lips.

  In the back of the courtroom, William Winsome’s bright blue eyes glistened as he smiled.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Looks like we’re going to have a good turnout to the festival, after all,” Lucy said, scooping out cider into waiting mugs as a new throng of tourists came marching through the door.

  Noel leaned closer to her, similarly dressed in a green elf costume. The Christmas music playing over the speakers was being broadcast from the Missoula radio station’s remote hookup in the community center. The current selection of “Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer” was merry but a bit loud.

  “Yes,” Noel agreed. “The weather is holding beautifully. Snow on the ground, but a clear sky. At least Midwater will be going out with a bang.”

  Lucy rested a brief hand of comfort on Noel’s shoulder before handing a couple of mugs of cider to a young couple.

  Doc Mallory shook his white head as he meandered over from his position on the sleigh, having handed out presents to the last little ones lined up to sit on his lap.

  “Too bad we didn’t find out about what Haag was doing sooner. The cows are going to be fine, did I tell you? That Aspergillus funigatus from the moldy hay isn’t contagious and won’t affect their future fertility.”

  Noel sighed. “Still, without any new calves this year, I know the ranchers are pretty much up against the financial wire.” She stole a glance over at Lucy, understanding what was probably behind her friend’s withdrawn demeanor. “Your folks are thinking of signing with that new representative from CMC, aren’t they?”

  “After the holidays,” Lucy admitted. “I’m sorry, Noel. Even if they could’ve scraped by, well, it’s all just been so damn disheartening having neighbors turn against us like this. Berna’s been arrested. She knew about Haag opening those ranch gates, setting fire to the Renners’ bakery, destroying her baking and your ornaments, and even running you off the road. And what Haag did to us, to you...well, I think all our spirits have sorta taken a beatin’.”

  Doc scratched at his fake Santa Claus beard a little sadly.

  “Midwater’s always been about neighbor helping neighbor. Haag made a mockery of that. It ain’t fair what a bad apple can do, but there it is.”

  Noel knew Doc was right. Haag had spoiled something precious in her friends and neighbors—something that was becoming very rare and personal in a rapidly impersonal, urbanizing world—belief in one another.

  She knew what it was like to have lost belief. She also knew what it was like to have found it again—and how much sweeter and more precious it seemed now. She wished...oh, how she wished Midwater could regain that precious belief.

  Suddenly, two large warm hands encircled her waist. She immediately recognized Nicholas’s touch and distinctive scent. She smiled as she turned around.

  He wore a pair of jeans over those tree-trunk legs, a light blue sweater that hugged the massive bulk of his chest and arms, his raven hair full and shining and swept back off his face, and a smile that flowed warm and liquid through her chest.

  She rested her hands on his arms, feeling the strength of him. His eyes bore into hers with the kind of heat that she knew would always melt her heart. She smiled into them. Not even her sadness over Midwater could break the spell of happiness cast on her from those wonderful eyes.

  “Come away with me for a sleigh ride, Noel,” the growly voice coaxed.

  She sighed, telling herself she should try to be strong. “Nicholas, you’re supposed to be taking the tourists on the sleigh rides.”

  “Seth and Ginny have taken over the rides for the tourists.”

  “But I’m supposed to be serving—”

  “Some things can wait. Some things cannot.”

  Noel smiled.

  “Oh, go ahead, enjoy,” Lucy coaxed. “Old Doc Santa Claus here will take care of the kiddies, and I can handle the stampede for these victuals.”

  Noel happily gave in, grabbed her coat and followed Nicholas outside.

  The night was lovely, cold but crystal clear, a million stars in the sky. But even the stars of Montana’s big sky were no competition for Midwater tonight.

  The village was alive and bubbling with glorious twinkling lights that outlined every inch of every roof and every wall and shone from every doorway. Families large and small flocked with cries of delight to the animated decorations and scenes coming to life behind every store window.

  What was left of the Renners’ bakery had been turned into a giant gingerbread house with sugarcane windows and a licorice roof. Sparkling candy canes and stockings hung from the eaves. An enormous Frosty the Snowman sat in front of the Mercantile tipping his hat. A chorus of “Winter Wonderland” was being sung by a dozen strolling Midwater carolers led by Jean and all bundled up in lovely, full-length, red velvet coats and carrying long-stemmed glowing candles. Beautifully decorated and lit sleighs pulled by magnificent Percherons slipped silently across the snow. />
  Nicholas handed Noel into the two-person sleigh that waited in front of the schoolhouse. She wrapped her legs in the snow blanket as he sat beside her. A flick of the reins to the single slim Morgan from her father’s stables, and they were off.

  They reached the outskirts of the village in a flash and then quickly left it behind. The crisp air fanned Noel’s cheeks. The hoofbeats of the horse resounded on the snow-blanketed valley ground. The bell-laden leather harness creaked and jingled. Noel snuggled next to Nicholas’s warmth beneath the heavy blanket, feeling the sparkling winter night enclose them in its magic.

  A few minutes later, Nicholas reined in the horse. He stepped out of the sleigh. “Come. I want to show you something.”

  Noel took Nicholas’s warm, strong hand and followed him through the snow up the small rise. When they reached the top, she stopped and stared in wonder. The snowy ridge sat a mile outside the brightly lit village, a perfect vantage point from which to appreciate the lovely Christmas card scene before them.

  And it was lovely. Midwater sat in the center of the valley—a magnificent festival of lights, glistening and gleaming, so shiny and bright and beautiful.

  She looped her arm through Nicholas’s and snuggled close to his side. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

  “Not yet.”

  His words confused her for a second.

  Then she felt the muscles in his biceps tense. Suddenly, from behind them in the sleigh, the sounds of “Silver Bells” drifted sweetly through the rich, black night. Noel recognized the remote radio station broadcast from out of the community center.

  She smiled as she looked back at the village. “Yes, it lacked music. Leave it to you to understand about the right sounds. Now it’s perfect.”

  “Not yet,” he repeated.

  Noel again felt the tensing in his biceps. Suddenly, from the center of the village, great golden bursts of brilliance exploded into the sky like fireballs shot out of a cannon. Noel sucked in her breath as she watched in stunned disbelief as a gigantic, golden Christmas tree of lights rose over the village of Midwater, suspended in the heavens, miles and miles high.

  She gasped as she bent her neck back to try to take it all in, barely succeeding.

  “Nicholas, what on earth?”

  “Happy birthday, Noel.”

  The breathless wonder once again claimed her voice. “Oh, Nicholas, it’s glorious! Splendid! Fantastic! Spectacular! Unbelievable! You’re an absolute genius!”

  Nicholas turned to his wife. “I do not understand why you always sound surprised when you say this, Noel. After all, our contract stipulated—”

  Noel grabbed her husband, halting his words with a warm, firm, passionate salute of her lips. He laughed against her mouth, wrapping her tightly in his arms, murmuring against her lips as her soft body molded itself to him. Then he ran his lips across each cheek, sending his wonderful growly sounds to sizzle in her ears.

  “I love you so much, Nicholas,” she said, sighing as the ecstasy of his touch and words heated through her. “My wonderful Russian bear who has just produced the most decadent Christmas tree of all time.”

  He laughed and growled some more as he hugged her to him.

  Suddenly, the Christmas music from the remote radio station broadcasting out of the community center broke off.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” an excited announcer said. “This is K-R-I-S. We are broadcasting tonight from the Christmas festival in the remote village of Midwater, Montana. Only, I’ve got to tell you that in all my twenty years of broadcasting, I’ve never seen anything like this. I am standing, right this second, in the center of Midwater looking up at the biggest damn Christmas tree made out of golden lights I’ve ever seen.”

  Noel held herself away from the exciting warmth of her husband to look up into his face. Her eyes glowed with mischief. “Dr. Nicholas Baranov, your decadent Christmas tree is about to become famous. Do you realize how hard it’s going to be to keep that bah-humbug reputation of yours?”

  He shook his head with mock solemnity. “It is struggle. Always struggle.”

  Her new delighted laughter broke off as the radio announcer went on excitedly.

  “Why, it’s...it’s incredible! Absolutely incredible. The people who are here to enjoy the festival have all come into the street to see this spectacular tree of light. It shoots into the sky for miles. I’ve got to get some reaction from a local. Sir? Sir? What is your name?”

  “Don Duncan. This is my wife, Fay.”

  “You live here, don’t you, Mr. and Mrs. Duncan?”

  “Yep. Own a ranch out a piece.”

  “Mr. Duncan, have you ever had anything like this Christmas tree over your skies before?”

  “Nope. Biggest damn shock these old eyes have seen.”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t particularly care. Me and the Mrs. here, well, Midwater had kinda lost its sparkle for us. We were going to sell. Move out. But after tonight...well after seeing this Christmas tree, it’s like a sign that we shouldn’t be leaving, after all.”

  “A sign?”

  “Yep. A good neighbor of mine used to say we’d get a miracle every year we had our Christmas festival. This year we’ve gone through some hard times that kinda made us forget about them miracles. Way I figure it, this Christmas tree is here to remind us that this valley is just chock-full of them miracles if we’ve got the guts to stay and look for them.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Duncan. Let’s talk to another resident. You, ma’am. In the elf costume. What is your name?”

  “Lucy. Lucy Lydon.”

  “What do you make of this Christmas tree suddenly appearing over your village, Ms. Lydon?”

  “Well, it’s something special, that’s for sure. And like Mr. Duncan said, we’ve needed something special. There’ll be a lot of valley folks reconsidering leaving now—me and my folks among them.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen in radio land, William Winsome, our former governor, movie and screen star, and the most famous of all Midwater’s residents, is now standing right beside me. Let’s find out his reaction. Sir, do you believe this Christmas tree of lights in the sky could be a miracle?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me a bit. You see, I’ve learned that the place where you have the most people with open, loving hearts is also the place where you’ll find the most miracles. And for my money, that place is Midwater, Montana.”

  “Oh, Nicholas, did you hear?”

  “Yes, Noel. The announcer’s saying something else.”

  “Just a minute, folks. I’m getting a report from our control room in Missoula. Yes. Yes. Ladies and gentlemen, Missoula has just reported that they can see the spectacular Christmas tree in the skies over the village of Midwater. From Missoula! They also report people are beginning to call in from all over. They’re getting into their cars. They’re heading out to see the Christmas tree of golden lights over the skies of Midwater!”

  Noel jumped in her excitement. “Nicholas, do you realize what you’ve done? Your Christmas tree is renewing the people of Midwater’s faith in themselves! It’s bringing tourists from everywhere. Nicholas, I can’t wait for you to tell them how you made this beautiful tree.”

  “I don’t think I can, Noel.”

  Noel glanced at Nicholas’s stone profile, hearing the very curious tone in his voice. He was looking at the golden Christmas tree in the sky, where at the very top, flashing like a beacon, a beautiful, sparkling golden star had appeared.

  “But you have something in your pocket that remotely activated the radio. And something that—”

  “Remotely activated the lights, yes. The tiny droplets in the steam from the geyser beneath the old well carry the light, with a little help from the reflecting lens of your grandfather’s telescope.”

  “Well, then, why would you say—”

  “I used the steam of the geyser within the old well and the reflecting lens from the telescope to form the cone of the Christmas tre
e. But nothing I did should have put that star on the top. I cannot explain that star. Do you understand, Noel?”

  Noel sighed as she wrapped her arms around her husband, the beautiful scene before her shimmering like the happiness inside her heart.

  “No, I don’t understand it. Not this lovely gold star on top of your beautiful Christmas tree. Not this resurgence of belief it’s brought to the Midwater Valley people beneath it. But I believe in the miracle of it, Nicholas. And in the miracle of Christmas. And in the miracle of our love most of all.”

  Nicholas gently kissed the cool fire of her hair, her forehead and then her lips as he brought her back against him, wrapping his arms around her waist as they stood before his lovely golden birthday present shimmering in the sky.

  Noel’s sigh escaped into their kiss as she leaned against the wonderful warm steel of him. Her heart shimmered, too, alive and full with the joy that this miracle of love would be theirs for all their Christmases to come.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-8297-1

  The Gift-Wrapped Groom

  Copyright © 1994 by Mary Johnson

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