“Retirement and wives are incompatible. Even semi-retirement. Cora said I was driving her crazy being underfoot. Honestly, Snow Valley doesn’t need two pastors. Not for at least ten years. About the time when I can no longer give a thirty minute sermon without falling headlong into the pews and breaking my cane. Or my head.”
“You and Cora are two dear hearts,” I said affectionately.
“Well, it’s true that the minister in New Orleans has been looking for someone like James for a long time. Word takes time to get out in the pastoral circles. It’s going to be hard work for James at first setting up the new church programs and getting to know the youth and their parents, but I know you two can figure it out. After the wedding go live your lives until Jessica retires as a famous ballerina, and then come back to Snow Valley in time to speak at my funeral.”
“Very funny,” James said, but I noticed the sentimental look that crossed his face. He loved his uncle, and Pastor John had just given us a tremendous gift by helping us figure out a way to be together where neither one of us had to give up our dreams and passions.
After we said goodbye and hung up the phone, the lights in the corridors of The Orpheum began to shut off one at a time.
“We’d better go before we get locked in,” I warned.
“Not quite yet, my girl.” James circled my waist with his arms and brought me close. His lips were on mine, warm and tender and full of promise. “Can we seal this proposal with a kiss?” he whispered against my mouth. “No taking it back, no second thoughts. I’m going to glue that ring to your finger. No more questions, no more doubts.”
The underground halls and dressing rooms were now deserted. We were completely alone and a combination of comfort and thrill came over me. There was no other place in all the world I’d rather be than with James. He was my love and my best friend. The only one I wanted to go through the ups and downs of life with.
Emotion overcame me when I thought of him surprising me on opening night and moving to New Orleans to be with me. We might stay in New Orleans for years or our careers could take us anywhere in the country. Those were decisions we’d make together and we could figure it out as life unfolded.
“No living apart or living without each other at all,” James added, tracing my cheek with his finger.
“We’ll seal that promise every single day, Mister James Douglas, Pastor Dude.” My eyes misted and my throat choked up. “For all eternity—and beyond.” I put my arms around his neck and we kissed again, softly, longingly, my heart bubbling up into my throat.
A few moments later, I pulled my valise over my shoulder and we pushed out the doors of the theater into the sparkling black New Orleans night. I laid my head against James’ shoulder and we walked forward, arm and arm, into the future.
Additional Works
By Kimberley Montpetit
About the Author
Kimberley Montpetit once spent all her souvenir money at the La Patisserie shops when she was in Paris—on the arm of her adorable husband. The author grew up in San Francisco, but currently lives in a small town along the Rio Grande with her big, messy family.
Kimberley reads a book a day and loves to travel. She’s stayed in the haunted tower room at Borthwick Castle in Scotland, sailed the Seine in Paris, swam in the waters at Cannes, ridden a camel among the glorious cliffs of Petra, sunbathed on Waikiki, shopped the maze of the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, and spent the night in an old Communist hotel in Bulgaria.
Romancing a Husband
Lucy McConnell
Chapter 1
Eli Lawson dashed from the shower to the phone, thankful no one was home as he was barely hanging on to the towel around his waist. He silently prayed the caller wasn’t the J.C. Welding Company canceling his interview. “Hello?” he said, noting that his voice was normal even though his insides cramped with nerves.
“Hello, is Eli there?”
“This is he.” Eli closed his eyes, preparing for another rejection. Losing his job last summer when the company went under had been an experience he never wanted to repeat. However, searching for a position at a welding company in a market recently flooded with experienced welders was like pulling off his toenails—slow and extremely painful.
“Hi, this is Chet Bauer. I’m not sure you remember me …”
Eli ran through the faces he saw each week at church. There was a whole gaggle of Bauers, and he wasn’t sure which one was Chet. Natalie would know; she was the one who grew up in Snow Valley. He glanced at their wedding picture hanging on the bedroom wall and took a guess. “You’re Steve’s kid, right?”
There was a laugh and then Chet replied, “Yep. I took over his place a while back and he recommended you for a welding project I’ve got going on. Would you have time to come check it out?”
Eli dropped his head. “I’d sure like to help you out, but I don’t have the equipment.” And I can’t afford it either. He’d tried getting a loan for a welder. Right after the layoff, he’d marched over to the Snow Valley Western Security Union branch office and submitted the applications—and been flat-out denied. The loan officer didn’t believe that the ranching community would support another welder, as Tray Dalton had the market cornered for decades.
“Shoot. I was really hoping … Well, thanks for your time.”
Eli’s gaze darted to the alarm clock on the bedside table. The bright green numbers told him he’d better get a move on or he’d be late for his interview. Still ... “Do you have anything else you need done? I can work machinery.” How desperate do I sound? Probably not as desperate as I actually feel.
“Not right now, but I’ll keep ya in mind.” Chet sounded sincere, and Eli shook off the self-loathing that hung heavy whenever he begged for work.
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” The minute he hung up, the phone rang again. Eli growled at the delay and answered with a curt hello.
“Sorry to bother you, honey. I forgot my lunch. Is there any way you can bring it to me?” Natalie’s voice was small, and Eli instantly felt repentant for his unfriendly greeting. His wife was a trooper, and she deserved much better than he gave. He couldn’t say or do anything right around Nat lately.
Stopping at the grocery store would definitely put him behind—a sacrifice worth making for his wife. Natalie was working herself weary to support them, and he’d be a darn fool to not take care of her. Feeling shame, once again, for the predicament he’d put his family in, Eli sank to the bed. “Yeah, I can leave here in five minutes.” I’d better be gone in five minutes.
“Thanks.”
The line clicked. No “love ya.” No “you’re the best.” No smile in her voice. Eli hated himself for turning his vibrant wife into a stressed-out shell. He had to get this job. Not only was the new company offering competitive wages; they also had health insurance. His family was one accident or illness away from losing their house and having to live in the church parking lot. Something was going to give or something was going to break, and Eli was bound and determined that the something would not be Natalie.
Dressing in less time than it takes to shake a stick, and running his fingers through his dishwater-blond hair, Eli slid behind the wheel of his beat-up Nissan and groaned at the buried needle. He’d never make the one-hour drive to Billings without gas. Deciding to stop on the way to Dove’s, he pulled the emergency money out of the glove box and hurried inside to pay. On the counter was a box of cream-filled Easter eggs—Natalie’s favorite. He glanced at the small bills in his hand, then back at the box.
“I’ll take one of these,” he said as he picked up the green-and-blue foil-wrapped treat, “and the rest in gas on number four.”
The clerk took the cash and gave him a nod.
Eli pumped the gas and jumped back into the driver’s seat. He stared at the egg in his hand. How stupid! Like a chocolate egg could make up for all he’d put Natalie through. He tossed the paltry peace offering in her lunch bag, disgusted with himself for making such a miserable e
ffort.
“Focus on getting the job, man.”
Chapter 2
Natalie looked up from the scanner to see her husband stroll through the automatic doors, and her breath caught at the sight of his freshly shaven chin. His jaw line was the first thing that she’d noticed all those years ago, long before he put a ring on her finger, and she could feel his skin against her palm. She allowed her gaze to travel over his broad shoulders, trim waistline, and back up to his slightly shaggy blond hair. My, my, he was a fine-looking man in a pair of dress slacks and a button-up shirt, and Natalie caught herself staring.
It wasn’t until he drew closer that she noticed the scowl on his face. No matter how Eli made her insides quiver, she needed to keep her emotions in check. There was no use getting her motor running when Eli hadn’t gone for a drive in months.
“You look nice,” she ventured.
Eli thrust her insulated lunch bag into her hands. “I’m late for an interview.” He started backing away.
“You didn’t say you had an interview,” blurted Natalie, hating the sharpness in her voice. Since when did she become so accusatory?
Over the last few months, Eli had become the strong and silent type. Their late-night pillow talks had gone the way of the dodo, and Natalie missed them, craved them even. Craved him. His physical strength was all still there, every glorious muscle—she couldn’t help noticing. But his other kind of strength, the deep-down-in-his-gut kind, had taken a hard hit.
One of the blows had come from Natalie, and to this day she regretted her mini-tantrum. When she’d lamented their financial situation, Eli took her frustration personally, even though she wasn’t blaming him. She’d thought Eli had evolved beyond twisting his self-worth up with the number on his paycheck, so his injured look came as a surprise when he took her tears personally. Instead of rubbing salt in his wounds, she’d keep her worries, her aches, and her hopes close to her heart. As she’d withdrawn, so had he.
Eli turned his back on her and spoke over his shoulder. “Didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”
Not even a complete sentence. Aren’t I worth more than that?
Eli marched towards the door.
“Wait.” Natalie dodged around her checkstand and quick-stepped to catch up. “Did you tell Hailey? Is she riding out with you?”
“Why would she?”
“I thought you were taking her and Chloe to the mall; they wanted to look at Easter dresses.” Hailey loved singing with the church choir and was looking forward to her first solo on Easter Sunday. She’d been practicing for months. Natalie hadn’t promised her a new dress, but for the girls, looking was fun.
“I wish I could but I’m already late.” Eli checked his watch, clamped his mouth shut and strode out the door.
Natalie clutched her lunch sack in her fist as she made her way to the back of the store, where there was a small break room for employees. She landed in a red plastic seat and dropped her head into her arms on the Formica table. Couldn’t Eli see what he did to Hailey when he broke a promise like this? Did he even care?
The door opened with a mighty creak, and Natalie sat up straight and stared at her unopened lunch.
Tracie Brandenberg entered a second later, her red hair unmistakable in the fluorescent light—well, in any light, really. As a clerk, Tracie was pretty good: she was punctual and her drawer always balanced out. As a friend, Natalie knew Tracie had bigger dreams than Dove’s. Sewing was where she excelled. She took a seat across from Natalie and pulled out her phone. Tracie’s eyes lit up like they only did when she was talking about her latest sewing project. “You have to see this dress. I just finished the post last night.”
Natalie welcomed the opportunity to talk about mundane things like thread choice and fabric selection, especially since she was no slacker with a sewing machine herself. She looked down at her shirt. What had started out as ranch wear turned out to be country chic. Not bad for a thrift store makeover. Even with their limited funds, Natalie was able to keep the family looking well put together, if not fashionable, thanks to her sewing skills.
Tracie slid her phone across the table. “See the pleating? It took me hours, and my fingers were totally raw by the time I finished. It turned out pretty cool, don’t you think?” Tracie’s eyes were bright with youth and promise—two things Natalie missed when she looked in the mirror at her own dull blue eyes.
Focusing on the picture, Natalie coughed in shock at the sum listed below. “Twelve hundred dollars? Are you serious?”
Tracie grabbed the phone back. “You don’t think that’s enough? I wondered … I mean I kept track of my time and I—”
“Sorry. I— do you get that kind of money for a dress?”
Tracie nodded, her brow wrinkled.
“Then why are you working here?” demanded Natalie. “If I could make that kind of money sewing, I would.”
Tracie leaned back in her chair. “It can take anywhere from one to six months for a dress to sell. It’s not really steady income. Plus, I used the dress to do several tutorials on my blog.”
From what Natalie knew of Tracie, she had a Cinderella life—the kind before the fairy godmother. Tracie lived with her dad, a suspected alcoholic, in a small white bungalow within walking distance of Dove’s. Feeling bad for embarrassing the girl, Natalie picked up the cell phone and really looked at the dress. “I didn’t know you had a blog.”
Twisting a section of her hair and bouncing her leg, Tracie replied, “I started this one a year and a half ago.”
“That’s great. You’re really talented, and you should share that with people. I would have never learned to sew if it wasn’t for Aunt Sophie.”
When Tracie’s brown eyes lifted, they were full of concern. “Me neither. She sort of, well, took me under her wing. How’s she doing? I haven’t been to see her in a while.” Her eyes darted to the picture on the screen. Natalie could only imagine the hours a twelve-hundred-dollar dress took to piece together.
“She was diagnosed with diabetes right after Christmas.”
“That stinks.”
“Yeah. In fact, I should probably call and check on her.” Natalie pushed herself up from the chair and went over to the courtesy phone in the corner.
Tracie made her way to the door and paused. “Would you be interested in doing a guest post on my blog?”
Natalie fumbled with the receiver, barely grabbing the coiled cord before the phone smacked to the ground. “Me? What would I ever post about?”
“You could do one on that shirt. It’s really cute, and repurposed clothing designs are popular right now.”
Flattered, Natalie waved her off. “No one wants to copy me.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
That’s not going to happen. “Will do.” Natalie smiled and Tracie gave a little wave goodbye. Can you imagine?! Natalie punched in her aunt’s number and huffed at the idea of a blog about sewing. When she graduated from Snow Valley High, all the girls knew how to sew. Patching clothes was a basic skill needed on the ranches and farms where knee holes appeared in pants on a regular basis, and shirt sleeves were torn on barbed wire. Under her aunt’s tutelage, Natalie went above and beyond the home economics basic class and advanced quickly. She’d even sewn her own wedding dress.
Wonder how much that would go for on Etsy.
Natalie blinked, surprised at herself for even considering selling her wedding dress. Every stitch, every pearl, every seam was filled with her hope for a future with Eli. No matter what happened to them or where they ended up, she couldn’t bring herself to hock those memories.
“HELLO?” Aunt Sophie’s voice boomed through the phone.
Natalie jerked the receiver away from her ear, shook her head, and then tried talking to her aunt. “Hello, Aunt Sophie, it’s Natalie.”
“I figured as much when I saw Dove’s on the caller ID thingy.”
Eighty-four years old and still sharp as a tack. “I called to see if you needed hel
p checking your blood sugar levels today. I can stop by after work if you’d like.” She closed her eyes. Sometime today she’d have to find time to take Hailey to the mall. The gas money was an issue … she could eat ramen noodles for a week if needed.
“You don’t need to babysit me, girlie. I’m doin’ just fine.”
Relieved to have one less item on her task list, Natalie hoped it was true. “Okay, call me if you need anything. Ryan should stop by today for a while.”
“Send them anytime.”
Natalie suppressed her smile. The only way she’d gotten Aunt Sophie to accept having teenagers check on her was to convince her that she was doing Natalie a favor by keeping an eye on them while she worked. “You’re too good to us, Aunt Soph.”
“You do for family. I gotta go, The Wheel is on. Thanks for calling.”
“Bye.” Natalie replaced the receiver in the cradle. Aunt Sophie hated pricking her finger. The first time she’d done it by herself, under Natalie’s watchful eye, was the only time Natalie had heard the stalwart Christian woman swear. Putting off the task or checking less often than she should would be just like Aunt Sophie, so someone in the family regularly stopped in to help. Aunt Sophie lived a few blocks down from the high school, so Ryan and Hailey made a point of seeing her a couple times a week. Seriously, she had great kids.
Glancing at the clock, Natalie groaned. She had five minutes to eat and get back to her register. As the shift manager, she needed to set a good example. Opening her lunch sack, she dug around for her peanut butter sandwich, but her fingers closed over something smooth and round instead. Natalie pulled her hand out of the bag and stared at the chocolate cream egg. I didn’t pack this.
Eli?
Had Eli bought this egg and put it in her lunch? He knew they were her favorite. Then why was he so ornery when he came by? Did he think he could treat her like a … a … not a doormat. She didn’t feel like he walked over her—more like, he looked through her. So, she’d become a window. If he was passionate or excited about anything, she could take his disinterest personally. However, she wasn’t the only person or part of life Eli couldn’t see lately. The kids, the little projects around the house that he normally took in hand, and life in general were all transparent. He hadn’t even signed up to play co-ed softball this spring, and he’d announced he wouldn’t be playing in the flag football game either.
Spring in Snow Valley Page 50
