Montana Christmas Magic Page 10

  “All right. But let me pick up the supplies. I need to repay you for all the meals you’ve treated me to.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  She put her hand up in the universal signal for stop.

  “I do. And that is the end of that.” She dipped her roll. “How are things coming on the exercise cabin?”

  “It’s done. That’s why I wanted to come to town. There’s a shop that sells exercise equipment—weights, treadmills, and stuff.”

  “Isn’t that expensive?”

  She had no idea how much money he’d made while he was on the circuit—money he’d given to his father to invest, since most of his other needs were taken care of by his manager and expensed.

  “Money isn’t a problem,” he said gently. A chocolate shop worker’s cash didn’t stretch very far.

  “Must be nice.” She ate her roll thoughtfully, staring out the window at the passersby.

  What did she see when she looked out there? It looked ordinary to him—but would it look different to an artist?

  “Do you really need to sell the place?” she asked when she finished swallowing. “I mean, it doesn’t sound like you’re selling it for the cash. Why not keep it as a summer retreat or something?”

  He twirled his remaining dot of wasabi into his soy sauce and swirled it with his chopsticks, even long after the green flecks dissolved. How to explain?

  Julie waited silently.

  Finally, he took a deep breath.

  “Once I leave here, I’m not coming back.” His voice was tight with emotion. “I was fooling myself when we sat on the porch. What I had as a child and teen here can’t be reproduced. That time has passed, and all I’ll do is trash the way I remember it.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” she said. “You’re not the same person, but you can create new memories. I believe we do it every day. Each morning when we wake up, we have a choice. Dwell in the past, fret about the future, or make today the best it can possibly be. When I remember to be present, I have a much better day than the alternative.”

  “Wow. That’s intense. And probably true.”

  “My father taught me that. He’s always been a wise old man covered in sawdust. I’d go talk to him all the time when I was growing up. My mom and I didn’t always see eye to eye, and he’d help me sort through it. He didn’t take sides, but he helped me see her point of view. I’m quite sure he helped my mother see mine. He was a good ally to have around.”

  “Sounds like it. I hope I’m as good with my kids someday.”

  “Do you want kids? How many?”

  “I hadn’t thought in specifics.” He laughed. “It’s a vague idea. I figured I had to find the right woman first, then get her input on the subject.”

  She laughed as well. “Smart man.”

  He looked into her eyes and smiled. She was easy to be around, unlike most of his previous girlfriends who’d insisted, like his mother, that he step into a role that didn’t always fit.

  Julie didn’t ask for anything but respect.

  And that made him want to be the best version of himself.

  The air left his lungs, as if he’d been sucker-punched.

  Her smile faded as they stared at each other, and her fingers reached for his. He grasped her hand as if it were a lifeline that would keep him from suffocating from lack of oxygen.

  “When you look at me,” he said, “I don’t feel like a cripple with scars. I feel like there are possibilities. I’m becoming a tennis coach because that’s all I know how to do.”

  “That’s not necessarily true. You seem to be able to swing a pretty mean hammer.”

  “Yeah.” He pointed to his black-and-blue thumb. “Sometimes.”

  “Happens to the best of them.” She giggled.

  “Thanks for that. The thing is, you point out aspects I don’t consider because I have a pretty narrow view of my possibilities. The only other person who was able to do that was Uncle Willy.”

  She slid her hand away from his, abandoning his fingers to cold. As he looked at her, her eyes became watery.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered. “You’re leaving, and I can’t let you take my heart with you.” She pushed her chair back.

  “Don’t go. Please.” He tried not to sound desperate.

  “But you aren’t staying,” she said as she remained seated. “Montana is my home. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

  “Have you ever tried?” At least he’d stopped her retreat.

  “Why should I want to? I have everything I need right here.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything important—friends, family, beauty, my job, the things I like to paint.”

  “Aren’t you narrowing yourself as an artist? Even Charles Russell left Montana for New York for a time, didn’t he?”

  “It was temporary. No one leaves forever.” Her eyes had dried, and she’d pulled her chair back in.

  Good.

  “Okay. I realize you all have this very long umbilical cord that ties you to the state. But that doesn’t mean you’ll be cursed if you cross her borders.”

  “I’m not sure about that.” Her smile was back, and she picked up her next piece of sushi.

  He relaxed back into the good time they were having before he’d let things get derailed.

  “New York glows at night. You never know what color the Empire State Building is going to be,” he said. “Sometimes it’s predictable—green and red at Christmas—but otherwise it’s whatever they decide. Speaking of the holidays, Christmas in New York is something you’ll want to see—that is, if you like Christmas.”

  “Of course I like Christmas. I drive my roommates mad with my decorations. Fortunately, both of them have families in California, so they go away for a chunk of time during the holidays.”

  “But they come back,” he teased.

  “Of course.” She looked at him in mock seriousness. “But it isn’t a requirement for them. They weren’t born here.”

  “Of course.” He grinned at her. “If you ever decide you can leave for a little while, I’d love to take you to the city for the holidays and show you the sights—the beautifully decorated tree at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, skating at Rockefeller Center, and the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall.”

  “Isn’t that where the Rockettes are?” She sounded like an eager child of five.

  Maybe there was hope of prying her out of this state after all.

  “Yep.”

  “We always watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade. My dad loves the Rockettes.” She smiled at what must have been happy memories.

  So different from the formal affairs his mother created. Everything had been satin and glass, impeccably tasteful, and cold as the icicles hanging from the eaves of a Vermont cottage.

  He pushed the memories away. It was up to him to create new ones—with a new family—one where he wouldn’t be the lonely only child, but a dad to kids who knew what it was like to express love.

  Oh, he wanted more than one of those rug rats, and he needed to find the right woman to help him create the family he wanted.

  One willing to move to New York. Or at least consider it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Julie. They could have a fun friendship—nothing more.

  • • •

  “She liked it!” Julie was like a small dust devil, her excitement whirling her onto Logan’s porch.

  He caught her in his arms and swung her around once, as if he were a dance extra in Oklahoma!, a musical her mother made her watch from time to time.

  “Put me down!” All this spinning was making her dizzy. Besides ... his hands ... they were doing something funny to her. She wanted to pull him close and kiss him.

  Cut it out. This man was not for her.

  “Okay.” He set her on the floor but didn’t take his hands from her waist.

  She pointedly removed them herself and gave him a stern look.

  At least she hoped it was stern
. She wanted to giggle so very badly!

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Somehow that was worse. She sobered immediately.

  “So, who liked what?” he asked.

  “My professor—I mean my former professor. She liked the painting I did of the barn in Lee Metcalf! She says she can’t wait to see the other one.” It was a high—having someone believe in her artwork like that and be willing to take a risk.

  “That’s wonderful!” He reached for her waist again, and she took a step backward.

  “Whoa, cowboy! I’m dizzy enough already.”

  He laughed. “It’s great to see you experience success.”

  She handed him the freezer bag she’d set down by the post when she’d dashed onto the porch. “Dinner fixings. I promised I’d cook.” She held up a small child’s lunchbox. “I brought my lunch, so I don’t have to go back to town for that meal.” Or spend any more time with him than necessary.

  Of course, then she shouldn’t have brought dinner.

  “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to someone else’s home cooking. I’m getting tired of mine.”

  Casual. He sounded nice and easy. None of the intensity she’d experienced at the sushi place.

  “How’s the exercise equipment working out?” she asked. The sooner he got back on his feet, the sooner he’d go home to Mama, and she could stop taking chances with her heart.

  “It’s great. I’m now able to do all the exercises the doctor recommended. They’re hard, but I can feel changes already.”

  A whinny came from the barn.

  “You have a horse?” She started toward the building. Maybe Logan would let her sketch the animal. She needed the practice.

  Maybe he’d let her sketch him.

  Her fingers itched to get to her pencils and pad.

  “Not mine.” He caught up with her, his cane beating a steady rhythm as he walked beside her.

  Sometimes he used it, but sometimes, like when he’d twirled her, he seemed steady on his own two legs without its aid. Did he realize that?

  The horse whinnied again.

  “It’s not mine,” he repeated.

  “Then whose is it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She stopped. “Let me get this straight. There’s a horse in your barn that you’re taking care of, but you don’t know who it belongs to.”

  “Something like that. It wasn’t listed in Willy’s estate, and Sarah swears he didn’t have one.”

  Hobo bounded in from the field, tail wagging furiously, and nudged her leg hard with his nose, setting her a little off-balance.

  “Hobo!” Logan caught her arm and steadied her, sending another blast of heat down her limb. “That’s why I don’t need a damn dog. They’re a nuisance.”

  Hobo barked and wagged his tail harder.

  “You seem to be really good at collecting stray animals though. A cat or two should slink in here any moment.” She laughed. Coming out here, away from the tightness of the city traffic, made her happy. Phillipsburg reminded her of home, but it was close enough to Missoula to feel the influence of a broader way of thinking.

  The horse turned out to be a roan mare with a sunny disposition. Small, she looked sleek and sturdy, what Julie always imagined to be the form of a barrel racer.

  “Hey, girl.” She reached her hand out, palm up, flat-fingered. The mare sniffed, tickling her skin with her fine whiskers. “You’re taking really good care of her.”

  “Thanks. She was pretty ragged when I found her.”

  “Who could abandon a horse like this?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d like to give him ... or her ... a tanning. People who don’t take care of horses are the worst.”

  “Got that.”

  “You seem really comfortable around her,” Logan said.

  “I was always playing with the neighbor’s horses. My mother thought I had enough tomboy traits without adding a horse to the mix.” Julie shrugged. “But I wish my dad had prevailed on this one.”

  Funny how that still bothered her. But she could fix that. Whenever she got herself settled, she was buying a horse. Which meant moving out of her apartment someday.

  Soon.

  Maybe if she lived in a place like Philipsburg, she’d have enough room and money for some animals.

  She crooned to the horse as she scratched behind her ears and down her neck. The mare responded by lowering her head and rubbing her nose against Julie’s shoulder.

  “Have you named her?”

  “I call her Lefty.”

  “Because?”

  “She was left behind.”

  A chuckle escaped her, and she turned her attention back to the mare.

  She looked into its deep brown eyes. “Who do you belong to? It’s okay. You can tell us.”

  The mare blew a blast of air from her nose and swished her head.

  It could have been an errant fly, but it was weird, almost as if the animal knew what she’d said. The mare took a step back.

  “Now you’ve upset her,” Logan said.

  “So it seems. Smart horse. She knows when to keep her mouth shut.”

  Another nicker and head toss.

  Julie laughed. “You’re pretty special ... Lefty.”

  On an impulse, she grabbed a nearby rope halter.

  “I’ve let her in the corral a few times,” Logan said.

  “Well, it’s too nice for her to be cooped up in here today.” She turned toward Lefty. “C’mon, girl, you want to be outside, don’t you?”

  The mare stepped forward and stuck her head within reach.

  Julie slid the halter on and buckled it shut before snapping on a lead.

  “Open the stall and the gate to the pasture,” she instructed Logan.

  “Do you think this is a good idea? I mean, what if she doesn’t come back? She’s not my horse. I could be sued.” He unlatched the gate.

  “Stop being such a New Yorker,” she said. “The mare will come back. The pasture is fenced, isn’t it?”

  “I think so.”

  “You haven’t checked your fences?”

  “Didn’t think I needed to. Not my horse, remember?”

  “You’re feeding her. She’ll come back.” She led the mare out to the back pasture. Logan opened the gate, and she led the horse through it before unsnapping the lead. “Have fun!”

  The mare took a few steps, looked back as if checking they were still there, and then took off at a gallop, kicking up her heels once or twice.

  “What a sight! I wish I could capture that.”

  “Why can’t you?” Logan asked as they shut the gate behind them.

  “Not enough practice drawing animals.”

  Hobo walked out from the barn and over to them, sat in front of her, and looked up.

  “I swear you’ve bewitched your pets,” she said to Logan. “They seem to understand just what I’m saying. You want me to sketch you, Hobo?”

  The dog barked.

  “I think you’re the one who’s put a spell on them,” he said. “Just like ...”

  “Just like?” Her breath stopped.

  “Oh, just like those guys in Vegas with the white tigers. That’s what I meant, but I couldn’t remember their names.”

  “Siegfried and Roy?”

  “Yeah, them.”

  Uh-huh.

  “Later,” she said to Hobo. “I need to finish my other painting first.”

  He got up and slipped through the fence rails, trotting off in the direction the mare had gone.

  Julie shook her head.

  “You want him?” Logan asked.

  “He’s your dog.”

  “I told you last time he isn’t. He just showed up. What’s he going to do when I sell the place?”

  “Maybe the new owners will adopt him,” she said. “He belongs here.” Like you do, only he knows it. “Got to go.” The conversation was becoming too awkward. “See you later.”

  “Dinner
. Remember. I’ll starve if you don’t come back.”

  “I doubt it.” She let the words drift over her shoulder as she got into her VW. She was going to need a more robust vehicle if she wanted to traipse all over for paintings. For today, however, the path was one the bug could navigate.

  Chapter 10

  A half hour later, she was immersed in adding the details to make the vision uniquely hers. Using techniques she’d learned at the university, she took a thin brush to lighten the tips of blades of grass, the edges of tree leaves, and the rugged post that held the barbed wire darkened with age. A deer grazed at the edge of one of the fields. Should she include it? Or was it beyond her skill level?

  Leave it for now. But her lack of confidence with animal shapes was frustrating. Time to work on it. Some of her texts covered the anatomy she needed to know to underline the bone and muscle that made a figure come alive. The rest was study and practice.

  If only she had the time to invest in the skill.

  But the only person really in charge of her was her. Sue Anne was very flexible with her hours especially since the new girl they’d hired seemed to be working out. Julie’s roommates were a problem, but she could probably get Logan to lend her one of the cabins without too much effort.

  Her life was up to her.

  By midafternoon, she was satisfied with her effort. That gave her a few hours in the afternoon to sketch Lefty and Hobo. How strange that he didn’t know who owned either animal. The dog could have easily been a stray from another ranch that had changed hands, but a horse was a different case altogether. Especially one that had good lines.

  Then there was the matter of dinner. She cursed herself as she carefully navigated the rutted road. She needed to keep things with Logan casual. Cooking him dinner wasn’t casual in the least.

  She was startled to see a sleek blue pickup parked by the house when she pulled into the driveway. A dark-haired woman in impossible heels was stepping out when Julie stopped by the barn. Who was she?

  It didn’t appear as if she belonged anywhere near a ranch. Given the Nevada plates, skinny jeans, and low-cut top, she was more Vegas showgirl than ranch wife. Nothing good was about to happen.

  Julie looked around for Logan, but all the only noise was grunts coming from the open door to the exercise cabin. Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the woman. “Can I help you?”