“Gentlemen,” he said, looking from one to the other, “I don’t mean anyone any harm. My wife ran away yesterday without a goodbye, and I’ve come a long way to get her back. Now, would you please let me through?”
“Women don’t usually run away from men they enjoy being with,” Bill said quietly.
“Unless they’re Sylvia Stanford Hickock,” the cowboy said. “Then the rules of reason don’t apply. When she thinks she’s not getting enough attention, she does things for effect.” The man’s eyes narrowed on Jeff. “Jeff James?” he asked.
“Yes.” Jeff replied.
The cowboy smiled thinly. “Then you should know what I’m talking about. I’m Bobby Hickock, Sylvia’s husband.”
He and Jeff shook hands.
“I was busy with a merger,” Bobby said. “And I did sort of…forget…that it was Christmas.”
Sylvia pushed her way between Jeff and Bill and glowered up at her husband. “You don’t want me to work, so that I can be home when you’re home, but you never come home, and I won’t put my life on hold indefinitely while you buy up the country and spend all your time rearranging it.”
“Okay,” he said. Liza saw his eyes devour Sylvia’s face, as though twenty-four hours without her had been far too long. “You’re right. I’m new at being married. I have a lot to learn.”
Sylvia’s shoulders sagged, all the wind apparently knocked out of her by that admission.
She folded her arms. “I’m considering going into television,” she said. “With a cooking show.”
He took that news with equanimity, then looked around at all the equipment filling the kitchen and asked with a wince, “Is the ranch going to look like this every day?”
“No,” she said. “I’d do that part in a studio.”
He spread both hands. “Then, fine.”
She firmed her jaw. “I’m not your mother or your sisters-in-law. I’m me.”
He glanced at Bill and Jeff as though sure that was a declaration they’d heard before.
“You certainly are,” he said. “Fine. Now, are you coming home?”
She folded her arms. “I don’t know. Maybe it’d be better for us to spend some time ap—”
That was as far as she got before he put his shoulder to her waist and lifted her off the floor.
She put a hand over her eyes as she dangled over his back. Then she raised her head and focused on Liza and Sherrie. “What is” it about self-confident men that we find attractive?”
Sherrie laughed. “It isn’t the self-confidence. It’s all the other good stuff that comes with it, so we put up with the authoritative attitude.”
The crew parted as Bobby walked with Sylvia to the door. Liza ran ahead for Sylvia’s coat and handed it to Bobby, who slung it over his free arm.
“Thank these nice people for their hospitality,” he said.
Sylvia lifted her head to smile at all of them, then focused on Jeff. “Be happy,” she said.
He nodded. “I have every intention of doing so. You, too. Merry Christmas.”
Everyone gathered on the porch to wave them off, then the crew hurriedly packed their things to get home in time for their own family Christmas Eves.
As Liza turned to lend a hand, Jeff caught her arm. “Excuse us for a few minutes,” he said with a glance at Bill, then at Sherrie. “We need a little private time to talk.”
“Sure.” Sherrie smiled widely. “I’ll see what I can do about finishing up the meal. We might actually be able to eat it by the time you come down. But now that everyone’s leaving, the kids are going to be antsy about their presents, so don’t take too long.”
“Half an hour,” Jeff said. “Tops.”
“Good.”
Jeff led Liza up the stairs, into the bedroom he’d occupied since his arrival, then closed and locked the door.
The room was cool and dark, and snow drifted silently beyond the window.
The subtle sounds of packing up could be heard from downstairs.
Jeff pulled Liza to the side of the bed and sat her down. He sat beside her on his bent knee so that he could face her. “Fiancé?” he asked, a note of impatience in his voice.
Oh, God. He wasn’t really on her side, he’d just wanted to oppose Whittier. He was angry that she’d introduced him as her fiancé.
Since it was a night for honesty, she angled her chin and decided to go all the way. “Fiancé,” she repeated. “This whole thing began because all I was really doing was putting my dreams on paper. Tonight, of course, I was putting them on the air. And marrying you has become the center of…all my…dreams.” She sighed and prayed for yet another miracle. “And introducing a man in front of millions of people as the one you intend to marry kind of forces him into stopping to think, doesn’t it? I mean, if you walk away from me now because I lied to you, you’ll only regret it later when you miss me and realize that I lied because I wanted so much to meet you, and that I continued to lie because I’d fallen in love with you.”
He was horrifyingly silent for what seemed an eternity. “Or, I could be wrong,” she admitted wearily. “I noticed you were missing for some time.” She pointed to the suitcase on the chair. “Did you come up to pack?”
“No.” He studied her face feature by feature, then looked into her eyes. “Actually, I was calling the man who owns the cabin and the barn where we spent last night.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“Because,” he said gravely, “I think Whittier was right. You should be taken before a judge. Only, I’m going to do it.”
Breathless and confused, she parted her lips to ask him why, but couldn’t.
He smiled. “To marry you,” he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly. When he drew away again his smile was tender. “Then to get the permits required to add on to the cabin and renovate the barn. Architecture isn’t exactly engineering, but it’s close enough. So, what do you say? You want to stay here and design and build a house, a few kids, the kind of home you’ve always dreamed about, so that you have something honest to say in your column this time around?”
Liza stared at him, speechless. It was happening. Her own personal miracle. She’d created a wonderful fictitious world and God was making it real for Christmas.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jeff said, and opened his mouth over her parted lips.
It was the kiss they’d never had the opportunity to share, filled with all the feelings they’d hidden, first because she was supposed to be married, then later—because she wasn’t.
His hands molded her to him, stroking her back, her waist, her hip.
Her fingertips explored his shoulders, his warm, solid chest concealed by the sweater, and stopped to feel his heartbeat. It pulsed against her palm, strong and steady.
He nipped at her bottom lip. “It beats for you,” he whispered. “I can’t believe that I dreamed of you all those weeks and now…” He tipped his head back to look at her in wonder. “You’re mine.”
Her eyes, she was sure, reflected the same amazement. “I took one look at you on television and…I knew you were mine. But who would ever believe—”
Her question was interrupted by a loud rap on the door.
“Liza? Jeff!” It was Whittier’s voice.
Liza groaned and leaned her head against Jeff’s shoulder. “Don’t answer,” she whispered.
“I—I know you’re in there!” Whittier’s voice sounded jovial. Liza raised her head to look at Jeff suspiciously.
“You won’t believe what’s happened!” Whittier said. “The station’s getting calls from all over the country! Nobody seemed to notice that you’ve been tricking them for a year and a half, Liza. All they heard was that the darling of country living is marrying the hero of the moment!”
Jeff rolled his eyes.
Liza kissed him. “You’ll be my hero forever!” she whispered.
He returned the kiss slowly and artfully as Whittier went on. “So…I may have been…hasty in firing
you. In fact, I’d like to make up for that by doubling your salary and promising you two specials next year! Liza! What do you say? Liza? Jeff! You wouldn’t want her to pass up an opportunity like that? Oh! And my agent’s working on a book deal for you!”
Jeff raised his head. “I can’t write,” he whispered to Liza.
“Not a problem,” she replied. “I can.”
“We’ll call you,” Jeff said, raising his voice to be heard on the other side of the door, “when we get back from the honeymoon.” Then he tipped Liza onto her back on the coverlet and braced himself over her on his forearms.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” he said.
“Merry Christmas, darling,” she replied.
“Guys?” Whittier called. “When will that be? Jeff? Liza?”
He didn’t get an answer.
eISBN 978-14592-6780-0
CHRISTMAS IN THE COUNTRY
Copyright © 1997 by Muriel Jensen.
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Christmas In The Country Page 19