Montana Christmas Magic Read online

  Willy would enjoy his final resting place—Sapphire Mountains in the distance, prairie, and the town where he’d lived most of his life.

  Peaceful.

  While Logan talked with the funeral director, she settled herself in a chair. Below them, pickups and SUVs climbed the hill.

  Sarah was the first to arrive, a clutch of flowers in her hand. She sat down at the far end and bowed her head, declaring the space around her sacred.

  Logan nodded at the funeral director and went to the hearse parked on the pavement a bit away from the cemetery. As people began to arrive, several men gathered at the vehicle.

  All the activities were carried out with subdued respect. The end of a life had real meaning in this place.

  Her own mortality loomed in the far distance—she hoped. Would she be ready? Had Willy?

  He’d encouraged her to follow her heart, indicating there was no reason to wait until she was older to begin to live a worthwhile life. “If you are always trying to please other people, you aren’t honoring the gift God gave you,” he’d said. “You’ll have regrets if you live someone else’s life instead of your own.”

  She believed him, but how could she break out of her current rut? As her father often said, dollars didn’t grow on trees, and she needed to make a living, no matter how tiny. A request for a painting wasn’t money in the bank.

  The retreat idea might work.

  A stirring around her caused her to look over at the hearse. As soon as she saw what was happening, she stood along with everyone else. Six white-gloved men, most of them young, moved the coffin slowly toward the plot. Each had measured steps, military training evident in more than one.

  The solemnness numbed her so that all she could feel was the current of love and sorrow that extended from one person to the next. Willy had touched many lives beyond hers.

  A life well lived.

  She wanted one of those, even if it meant stepping way out of her comfort zone.

  The service was short and quiet. Many of the mourners had brought single blooms to toss. Each person was silent as he or she stood over Willy’s coffin; some, particularly older women, clutching worn Bibles in their hands. Finally, she and Logan were the only ones left, Sarah having been one of the first to leave so she was at the church reception hall when the people arrived.

  Julie walked over to where Logan stood at the edge of the plot, staring at the mountains in the distance. The lowering sun reflected back on them, defining their shape. Unlike the Bitterroots farther to the west, they had a rounded, almost comfortable configuration.

  “It was a good service,” she said.

  “Thank you for being here. It helped.” His smile didn’t reach maximum. “You ready to go?”

  “Yes.” They got in the car and headed down the road.

  Chapter 5

  Logan wasn’t in a mood to talk to anyone, but he’d have to do a lot of it once he got to the reception. May as well get loosened up with Julie. She was easy—most of the time. She might say something funny again. That would help.

  “How are you doing?” He glanced at over.

  “I should probably ask you the same question. This must have been overwhelming. I mean, you didn’t even know he was ill two weeks ago.”

  “True. I think I’m still numb.” Talking to her began to ease the tight knot in his chest.

  “All you have to do right now is make it through this service.”

  “Yeah.” Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about all the little details.

  “Um,” she began as they reached the edges of town, “I want to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead.” He navigated the narrow streets, searching his memory for the church’s exact location.

  “About my boyfriend ...”

  God, why did she have to bring that up now? He pulled into the church lot and looked at her, his vision narrowing. He’d never understand how women thought.

  “If I didn’t have one, could ... um ... we go out?”

  “You mean on a real date?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” he said. Didn’t she understand he had enough to sort out without adding a woman, a true-blue, never-going-to-leave-Montana woman, to the mix? “I’m not staying.” If he kept saying it, maybe she’d believe him.

  Maybe he’d believe himself.

  Her lips trembled.

  Crap. He didn’t need a crying woman today

  “I hear you ...” she mumbled. Her eyes were luminescent with unshed tears. “But if you weren’t ...”

  “Look, Julie.” He touched her cheek. “I like you. I really do. But it’s a bad bet to give up your boyfriend on a million-to-one chance. I mean, you may not like me once you get to know me.” He forced a smile.

  “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Especially not now. You’ve got a lot going on.” She swiped her eyes and got out of the car, her shoulders rounded.

  What if she didn’t have a boyfriend? He liked her. That was for sure. She was the first person to make him laugh in a very long time.

  Not since he used to spend time with Willy.

  Too complicated.

  As he got out of the car, his foot slipped and he almost went down on the pavement.

  “Damn it!”

  He grabbed his cane from the car and aimed it for the next county, but he settled for slamming the car door.

  Julie was already in the building.

  Too bad. His display of temper might have turned her off.

  God, he’d turned into a cynic.

  The room was filled with people of all ages from old to young. They were silent for a moment when he walked in, but the murmur quickly resumed.

  The area was like most church halls—plain walls painted a neutral color, hung with a few local and religious prints. A windowed counter with coffee and tea at one end of the room that fronted a large industrial kitchen. He headed that way, tension still rolling off his shoulders.

  He needed to calm down. These people were here to celebrate Willy’s life, not watch Logan make a mess of his own.

  He looked around until his gaze lit on Julie. She was listening seriously to an older woman in a walker. She hadn’t even had a chance to take off her coat.

  He smiled. Julie had a soft spot for everyone, putting their needs in front of her own.

  Totally unlike Deborah, who’d been self-centered almost to the point of narcissism. Being with her had been a continuation of playing tennis, except words were lobbed instead of balls.

  Even in the short time he’d spent with Julie, she brought him peace most of the time.

  “May I take your coat?” he asked, holding out his hand to Julie.

  “No, I can do it,” she replied. “You don’t need to bother.”

  “We were just finishing up,” the elderly woman said. “You go hang up your coat, honey. Thanks for spending a minute with me.” She looked between the two and added to Logan, “Your uncle was a good man. Took care of other people. Just like this young lady. You’ve got a good one here.”

  She pushed away and headed toward a table loaded with homemade dishes—a funeral supper for a small town. Soon she’d corralled a teenage boy and was instructing him how to fill the thick white plate in his hand.

  Logan looked at Julie. She was stifling a laugh. As soon as she saw his face, she couldn’t do it anymore. They tried to cover up their chuckles, but the people around them grew silent for a second. Sarah broke away and headed in their direction.

  “Uh, oh,” Julie said. “We’ve been busted.”

  Her comment almost set him into more laughter, but he managed to tamp it down before Sarah reached them.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t stifle your joy. Willy wouldn’t want it.”

  Then she turned and walked away.

  Julie went back to grinning. While the laugh didn’t return, his muscles relaxed a little.

  It wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
>
  “Your coat?” he asked Julie.

  She turned her back to him so he could catch it as she shrugged it from her shoulders. His fingertips grazed the silky fabric of her blouse and were singed by the heat beneath it. He wanted to let the coat fall to the floor, turn her around, and re-discover what those lips tasted like.

  Instead he urged Julie toward the food table. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  He spent the next few hours meeting people he didn’t know and listening to their stories about Willy. The tales were full of his kindliness, ability, and humor.

  “He always said you’d grow up to be just like him,” one older man said. “Did you?”

  “I ... I’m not sure.”

  “Well, see to it you do. Don’t want to disappoint your uncle, do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, then. Get busy.” He pointed to the elderly woman with the walker. “Ellen needs her front porch sturdied. Willy said you’re good with tools, and you’d be here for a bit, won’t you? See to it.”

  Logan almost saluted, but figured it was overkill. “Sure,” he said instead. “I need to see Sarah for a moment.” He hustled away to forestall any further commands. He didn’t want to get involved in the community. No matter what Willy had been plotting, he wasn’t making his home in Montana.

  Let the wildlife people have the damn place.

  On the other hand, it was too bad it was so far from New York. It would be a pleasant getaway when the pressure got too much. Significantly better than the “cottage” his parents had in the Hamptons.

  Once the formal service was over, and the afternoon grew late, people began to leave. A number of women Sarah’s age started to clean, while their husbands stacked tables and folding chairs. Logan tried to help out, but Sarah shooed him away.

  “We know what we’re doing here. You’ll only get in the way. Besides”—she nodded at Julie trapped in a corner with the older man who’d cornered him earlier—“Your girl needs to be rescued from Ira. She’s got a long drive back to Missoula, and I hear her car’s at your uncle’s.”

  “She’s not my girl.”

  “That’ll change,” she said. “I can see that Willy was right about that.”

  “Well, don’t pass that theory on to Julie, please,” he said.

  “Don’t have to. She already knows.” Without another word, Sarah returned to the kitchen.

  Geez. Did everyone in town know his business? Sooner or later, he’d need to set everyone straight.

  • • •

  Logan studied the list and the drafts he’d developed. Because of Willy’s tutoring, he’d hung on to his dream of being a fine cabinetmaker as long as he could in spite of his mother’s pressure. He’d even taken a few design classes in college, so he knew the basics of drafting.

  If he was going to be stuck here, he needed someplace at home to maintain the physical therapy the doctor had instructed him to do to rebuild his leg. While he didn’t hold out much hope for his doctor’s pie-in-the-sky belief that the leg could reclaim most of its previous strength and flexibility, he wanted to see how close he could get.

  Six months. If he stayed for his uncle’s required time, he’d have all summer to work on recovery until he left at the beginning of October. It would still be warm enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about heating one of the outbuildings. All he needed to do was clean it up, make a few repairs, and get the equipment. Some free weights, bars, and a convertible bench would do the trick. The Internet told him there was a fitness store in Missoula. He could probably move seats around in the SUV to fit the equipment he needed.

  Renting the car for six months was going to be too expensive. He needed to get a mechanic out here to get Willy’s old Jeep station wagon going.

  He made a list of the lumber supplies he needed and checked the tools to see if any needed replacing. He’d see what was in town and add to the list he had for Missoula.

  Another excuse to see Julie.

  He shouldn’t. Boyfriend.

  Only lunch. He’d take the other girl, too. What was her name?

  It would come back to him.

  The phone rang. He glanced at the display.

  Mother.

  May as well get it over with.

  “When are you coming home, dear? We’re trying to plan our annual trip to the Hamptons for a month. You know all your friends will want to see how you’re doing. Beth Ann asked about you in particular.”

  Great. Deborah was barely in the ground, and the vultures were circling. He had it all—well, almost—a sexy career and a wealthy father who would leave his money to his only child. In society’s opinion, all he lacked now was the right wife.

  “I’m thinking about waiting until October to head home,” he said.

  “In Montana? For heaven’s sake, why?”

  “Uncle Willy’s idea. I can’t sell the ranch unless I live here six months first.” No need to mention the requirement to go to a Griz game.

  “Then don’t. Come home and rent it out. You don’t have to stay in that wilderness. There are things there.”

  “Can’t. Unless I live here six months, the property reverts to a designated charity.”

  “He can’t do that!”

  “I checked. He can.”

  “That son ...”

  He held in a chuckle. His mother never swore. Relations between her and Willy must have been very bad indeed.

  “So here I am,” he continued. “I’ll do my therapy here. I won’t lose any time recovering.”

  “But it’s so cold ...”

  “Mom. It’s summer. Even in Montana.”

  “Do they even have a gym in that one-horse town?”

  “No, I’m refurbishing one of the cabins to be a personal gym.”

  “You’re getting on a roof?”

  His mother was definitely afraid of anyone getting on a roof. Her father had slid off their family home in Saddle Brook, New Jersey, when she was fifteen. He’d only suffered a broken leg, but it scarred her forever.

  “Relax, Mom. I’m not going on the roof. It’s fine.” At least on that cabin. There were at least two that needed repairs from what he could see. He hadn’t really checked the house roof.

  “I guess you won’t be making it to the Hamptons,” she said.

  “Probably not.”

  “What about your career?”

  “My career is over, Mom. There’s no way I can professionally compete in the condition I’m in.”

  “The doctor said you’d get better.”

  “That’s a long road. An extra six months focusing on recovery will help.”

  “Didn’t you say you were coaching? Don’t you have to be back in New York?” His mother’s voice rose in pitch.

  “It will have to wait. My coach will understand.” Suddenly he was tired. Tired of the pressure. Tired of his mother’s concern. Most of all, tired of all the expectations.

  His uncle Willy was right. He needed these six months.

  He was definitely staying.

  “I’ll be home in October, Mom. It’s what Uncle Willy wanted, and for some strange reason, I think he was right.”

  Silence at the other end of the phone.

  “Look, I love you, Mom. I need to do this my way. That’s all.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was small. “Take care of yourself.”

  “I will. I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

  “I’ll count on it.”

  The silence after she hung up echoed in the small room. He loved her, but the more he was away from his mother, the better chance he had of getting his feet under himself—literally.

  Time to go to town. No need for a jacket, the April day was projected to be bright sun and seventies, which in these parts meant hot for some reason. Maybe the altitude. Montana was north in more ways than one.

  At the last moment, he grabbed a jacket. What was true right now could change in five minutes.

  He opened the door.

&nbs
p; A dog sat there, looking at him expectantly. He appeared to be a mix of shepherd and collie, complete with one blue eye and one brown. Scruffy and on the thin side, he’d probably been on the road awhile.

  A dog was the last thing he needed.

  “Shoo!” Logan said. “Go home. You’re too much for me.” He’d always wanted a large dog, but his mother declared the New York brownstone off limits to anything but small, yappy, rug rats.

  He’d hated those dogs, grateful when his parents’ travels made it difficult to keep one.

  This dog continued to stare.

  “I’m sure you’ll be gone by the time I get back.” As Logan walked to the car, the dog followed and sat down expectantly at the passenger side door of the SUV.

  “I’m not taking you with me. Get a clue. Go home.”

  The tail gave a little wag.

  Maybe when he drove out of the driveway, the dog would get a hint. Or maybe he should take him into town to see if anyone could identify him.

  Sarah might know. And it would give him a chance to talk to her about the horse. Another thing he needed to find a home for.

  Although if he healed up enough, he might be able to ride the mare in the summer.

  The dog nosed him.

  Was it Willy’s dog? If so, where had he been up to now?

  “Oh, hell.” Logan opened the door, and the dog jumped in, as if it were a daily occurrence. Logan got in the driver’s side more easily than he had. Maybe the constant motion was doing his leg some good.

  The dog sat silently during the trip, staring out the window.

  Was he okay? What if he had rabies or something? Why didn’t he have a home?

  After parking in shadows on the main drag, Logan cracked the windows and locked the doors.

  Maybe he should leave them unlocked. No one else seemed to lock much in Phillipsburg. Heck, maybe someone would let the dog out, and he would run off to wherever he perceived he should go next.

  He left them locked. Old habits died hard.

  “Morning, Sarah,” he said as he took his normal place. The regular customers no longer gave him a second glance.

  She nodded at him and kept going with her delivery.

  “The usual?” she asked on the way back.