Cowboys Under The Mistletoe: Five Christmas Christian Romance Novellas

by Kristen Ethridge

  Someone who believed in himself wouldn’t have run off. He would have had the faith to remain and make a difference.

  Grant remembered the conversation with Sarah right as they arrived at Santas on the Street. Speak the truth in love, he’d told himself as he was reminded of his mother’s words. If speaking the truth in love was good enough for Sarah, it had to be good enough for Grant to hear as well.

  He looked out at the water, but Grant knew he should be looking inside his heart.

  He knew he should be talking to the One who used to live in his heart.

  “If I had the faith to make one more Christmas wish, God…it would be for my family.”

  “I’m really excited to go on this Holiday Homes Tour, Grant. It seems like a fun mix of historic and newer homes. And I think Jamie will love seeing all the Christmas decorations.”

  Sarah and Jamie had met Grant at the 1895 Cantrell House, a Victorian estate on the west end of Provident Island. The tour of ten of the island’s most-decorated homes started with this one.

  “Oh, she will,” Grant said with a smile. “But admit it, the Realtor in you is loving the fact that every one of these homes is for sale. You’re going to be taking notes, aren’t you?”

  She cocked her head, sheepishly. “Well, maybe. I think it’s really cool that the local Realtors’ Association has staged all these homes and put this together. What a great way to do an open house.”

  They stood on the front walk at the base of the stairs leading to the main door. Sarah looked up and felt a sense of peace wash over her. The windows glowed with soft light. The handrails on either side of the outer stairs were wrapped with garland stuffed with tufts of holly and tiny pinecones. And hanging just above the doorway was a perfect sphere of mistletoe.

  The whole scene seemed picture-perfect. The only thing missing was the gentle flutter of snowflakes.

  But to hold this contentment in her heart forever, she’d trade all the snow in the world.

  Grant held Jamie’s hand as they walked up the steps just ahead of Sarah. She loved to see them together, to know that Sarah had found someone she instinctively trusted. But what would happen once they went back to Atlanta? Would Jamie retreat back into her shell without the presence of the cowboy she’d befriended? Or would it give her a boost of confidence to go make new friends back home that could last for longer than a short Christmas vacation?

  Those thoughts had kept her awake last night, and now that she saw Grant and Jamie holding hands, Sarah knew the stream of what-ifs would probably keep her up again tonight. How could she go back to Atlanta, knowing what Jamie had found here?

  How could Sarah go back to Atlanta, knowing what she had found here?

  Grant stopped just before the door and scooped Jamie up with a swirl. He landed a kiss on her cheek. “Mistletoe!”

  “Do I get to make a wish?” Jamie giggled as she spoke. Her cheeks had lit up with a glow usually reserved for old-fashioned drawings of Santa Claus. Sarah stood back, practically goggle-eyed at the transformation in her daughter.

  The giggles. The joy. The sentence at a normal volume.

  They were the best Christmas gift Sarah’s mother’s heart could have hoped for.

  “It’s not a birthday cake, silly,” Grant replied, still holding Jamie close to his side. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as a wish under the mistletoe. Just kisses.”

  Jamie gave an awkward aw-shucks-style snap. “Oh, man.”

  Grant leaned close. “But I won’t tell anyone if you decide to.”

  The smile crossed back over all of Jamie’s features. “Want me to tell you what I wished for?”

  “Oh…you can’t do that, or else it won’t come true.” Grant spoke solemnly, as though his proclamation was a rule instead of superstitious folklore. “And you want it to come true, right?”

  The little girl’s braids shook as she nodded her head. “I want to stay here and ride horses with you forever.”

  Sarah’s heart cracked like a candy cane caught under an errant foot. How could she ever take Jamie back home, knowing her daughter’s most hoped-for dream? But even to think of it made no sense. To leave her job, her clients, her family—and more. That just wasn’t practical at all.

  Christmas might be the season of wishes and hope, but in another week, it would be the new year. And the new year would bring with it routines and reality.

  Sarah breathed in deeply through her nose, smelling the fragrant tang of the pine and spruce boughs that decorated the porch. Maybe she could make this moment be enough. Maybe she could stop the worry and the what-ifs.

  Wryly, she realized she’d need her own mistletoe wish.

  Grant caught her staring and reached out his free hand. “I forgot something,” he said.

  “Do you need to go back to your car and get it?”

  He smiled, his easy grin almost a mirror of Jamie’s joy moments ago. Sarah couldn’t help but want just a little of the same.

  “No.” The smile didn’t leave Grant’s face. “I’ve almost got it right here.”

  With a playful tug, he pulled Sarah a little to the right.

  Then quickly, he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. A snap of something electric passed between them, transferring Christmas joy. Jamie gave a brief round of applause, and Grant lifted his head.

  “You were standing under the mistletoe. Well, with a little repositioning.”

  “Make a Christmas wish, Mama.”

  Sarah closed her eyes and held her breath, reliving the soft kiss.

  Then, without thinking, the same wish her daughter had uttered slipped through Sarah’s mind.

  By the ninth house, Jamie’s feet started to drag. Grant wished she’d been smaller, so he could just pick her up and carry her around. Sarah told stories of meeting Jamie in the orphanage, and it wasn’t too hard to imagine the toddler, then the preschooler, then the kindergartener she had been only a few years ago.

  “I think they’re putting on the full Victorian Christmas event at the end. Do you want to see the choir, Jamie?”

  Jamie nodded sleepily.

  Grant put his arm around her shoulders and walked slowly out to the porch of the 1907 Smith-Cooper Home. After a few more steps, he realized Sarah had not kept up with the two of them.

  “Let’s wait for your mom,” Grant said, tugging at Jamie’s sleeve.

  Sarah had stopped to talk to a woman who was probably close to her own age. She handed Sarah some sheets of paper. Then they exchanged business cards. Grant caught himself trying to stifle a laugh as both women alternated talking animatedly, using their hands for added emphasis.

  “I love it. Lunch tomorrow sounds perfect. I can’t wait.” Sarah waved over her shoulder as she jogged the few steps to Grant and Jamie.

  “Lunch plans?” Grant couldn’t keep his eyebrows from rising and a laugh from coming out. “Taking over the Port Provident social scene while you’re in town?”

  Sarah tucked the papers and card inside her purse. “Better. The Port Provident real estate scene. That’s Mari Garcia. She’s the broker at Sand and Star Realty. They’re the ones who coordinated this whole tour of homes.”

  They walked down the sidewalk, following the crowd to the next home on the tour.

  “I think that’s great. Why don’t you drop Jamie off at the stables, and she can get in another ride tomorrow? Even if I wind up with some groups, she can be my personal assistant.” He gave Jamie a playful tweak on the shoulder. “What do you think, kiddo?”

  Jamie made a fist, bent her arm, then drew it back. “Yaaaaaaaasssssssss!”

  Sarah’s heart took wing at her daughter’s enthusiasm. “I guess we’re all set, then.”

  “Yes, we are,” Grant agreed. “Now, one last house.”

  “Can we just go to the party?” Jamie spoke through a wide yawn.

  Grant shrugged. “It’s okay with me. Is it okay with you, Sarah?”

  Sarah heard the faint sounds of a choir singing from a few blocks away
. “Sure. I’m going to be talking about all of these houses and more tomorrow at lunch. I’ll get my real estate fix in about fourteen more hours. I’m good. Let’s go see this Victorian party.”

  The three of them held hands and wound around the sidewalks of one of the National Register-designated historic neighborhoods. Grant loved the peacefulness of the century-old trees stretching above them. The sound of the ocean breeze tangling lightly in the trees reminded him of the wind in the hills back home.

  Jamie tapped her mother on the arm. “Look, Mama. Like the song.”

  A big banner reading “chestnuts roasting on an open fire” was visible just inside the gate to the park. The toastiness provided a holiday scent to greet those in attendance.

  “What is this place?” Sarah asked as she looked around. The wrought-iron gate in front of them led to a sizeable urban park of gardens and paths and trees. Then, to the right, a wooden-and-glass octagonal building had been decked in twinkle lights and a band played on the stage inside.

  “This is the Blume Gesellschaft. It used to be the heart of Port Provident. Many of the original residents here were German. Blume Gesellschaft means “Flower Society” in German. This building and the gardens were built before the Great Storm of 1910, and miraculously survived. It’s still a pretty special place around here—although as you can tell, its heyday has passed somewhat. But it’s been revived tonight in all kinds of Victorian glory.”

  “I love it,” Sarah said, taking in the lights and the color spread before them. “Let me know if you see Marley or Tiny Tim.”

  Grant couldn’t help but smile. More good memories. Back in his youth, his father always read passages from Dickens’ A Christmas Carol in the days leading up to Christmas.

  “They’re probably here somewhere.”

  “I’m sure of it,” Sarah said with a nod of conviction.

  “Look!” Jamie’s volume rose, and she pointed to the top of the arched gate. “More mistletoe. You have to kiss her, Grant. You have to. It’s the rules.”

  It felt a little like a dare.

  It felt a little too public. Jamie’s shriek had attracted some attention.

  But most of all, it felt like a chance he needed to take. Soon, she’d be gone back to Atlanta and there would be no more mistletoe. No more kisses. No more crazy ideas running through his head.

  Speak the truth, he reminded himself. Then act on it.

  Grant scooped Sarah up in her arms and leaned low. “I think you’re my mistletoe wish. I think you and Jamie are what’s been missing in my life.”

  Then he leaned down and kissed Sarah in a way that left no room to doubt what he’d whispered in her ear.

  When he let go, Grant didn’t know what to say. He looked steadily in Sarah’s eyes, searching for the answer to a question he couldn’t bring himself to ask. They hadn’t known each other long, but something in him just knew. Something inside knew this was right.

  Well, everything was right except the part where Sarah got back on a plane to Atlanta and left his heart behind on Port Provident.

  “You should stay.” Grant spoke the truth out loud. It hung there in the night air for a moment before Sarah answered.

  She sighed loud enough that Grant heard the flow of breath over the squeals of children and the nearby choir. “I can’t. My whole life’s back in Atlanta.”

  “But you said it yourself. You don’t spend enough time with Jamie in Atlanta. You loved the time you’ve spent with her here. What if this is the place you belong?”

  Sarah looked up at the moon. “But what if it’s not. Jamie’s already been uprooted once and it greatly affected her. If it was just me, I’d strongly consider it. Really, I would. But I can’t make a mistake. Not when it comes to my daughter.”

  “So this…” Grant waved his hand around, taking in the full family atmosphere. “This is a mistake? Sarah, this is a place for families. And the three of us…we fit right in. Don’t we? Am I crazy? Or do you feel it too?”

  “You’re not crazy.”

  Grant’s heart skipped a beat as she acknowledged the truth.

  “But it would be crazy to act on it. Wouldn’t it?”

  Grant took Sarah’s hand. It was as close as he could get to her heart. “Sarah, I know what it’s like to make a decision that’s hard to explain, to leave everything behind and start over. But I believe that sometimes there’s a bigger force at work in the world.”

  Once again, she exhaled. “What’s that?”

  “The truth. Love. Faith. Hope.” He still held her hand, wanting to get through to her—but fully aware that if he pushed too hard, he’d scare her off for good. “Isn’t that all what Christmas is about? My mom used to tell us kids to speak the truth in love. It sounds like a good piece of Mom wisdom. But did you know it’s actually from the Bible?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yeah, it’s from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. The next part of the verse is the interesting part, though. It promises us that when we do, we grow.”

  She brushed a lock of hair from her face. “I wish it was that easy, Grant. I do. I like you. Jamie likes you. Meeting you has been one of the best—and most unexpected things—to come out of this crazy year. Actually, if I’m speaking the truth, it’s been the best thing. I’d like to stay and get to know you and Port Provident better. But I just can’t. It’s too much. My family will think I’ve lost it. I’ve got to be the responsible one. I have a child to support. And speaking of her, it’s getting late. Getting the right amount of sleep is really important for managing Jamie’s anxiety. It’s probably best that we head back to the beach house. Thanks for a fun night, Grant.”

  He heard Sarah loud and clear.

  “Can Jamie still come ride tomorrow?” He wanted to be able to give the little girl one more set of memories with Chewie. And he wanted to be able to tell her goodbye on his own terms.

  “Sure. I’ll drop her off around lunchtime before I meet Mari.”

  “Come on, Kiddo.” Sarah raised her voice so Jamie would hear her from where she stood close to the Victorian-themed choir. Jamie gave Grant a hug, and then they walked across the parking lot and back down the street toward where they’d left their car.

  Grant looked up. He was still standing under the mistletoe. Only this time, there were no wishes to come true. He’d spoken the truth in love. In fact, his truth had been love.

  Suddenly, a chill settled on Grant’s shoulders—and he knew it had nothing to do with the Port Provident holiday weather.

  Chapter Six

  Jamie brushed Chewie’s flank, stroking it gently with the wooden-backed body brush. “Can I braid her tail?”

  “His tail. Chewie’s actually a boy.”

  Jamie shrugged. “I think he’d still like a braid.”

  Chewie could handle it for a few hours. Chewie had a bond with Jamie too, and Grant figured the creamy-golden equine wouldn’t want to disappoint his little fan any more than Grant did on this, their last little bit of time together. They’d already ridden to the lighthouse and back and groomed the sand out of the horses. Now, Jamie was just playing with Chewie. And like the true gentleman he was, Chewie stood quietly by and let the little girl love on him.

  “There’s a mane and tail brush on the shelf. The black one. And there are some elastics and ribbons inside the cabinet.”

  Jamie collected her supplies, settled herself on the nearby stool, and got to work.

  “Can you believe it’s already Christmas Eve?” Grant tried to strike up some small talk to keep his mind off of last night’s conversation with Sarah. “What did you ask Santa to bring you for Christmas?”

  She stroked the waterfall of flax-colored hair. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” That surprised Grant. He didn’t know any kids who didn’t have a list as long as Chewie’s tail to give to Santa.

  “Yeah, I didn’t know where we were going for Christmas. I didn’t want him to leave it in Atlanta if we weren’t going to
be there.”

  Grant took an apple out of a box and flicked it in Chewie’s mouth, then walked around Beachcomber Stables, offering carrots and apples to the other horses.

  “That makes sense. Pretty smart thinking, actually.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know if Mom or Aunt Ellie brought any presents, though. Their suitcases were kind of small.”

  “Can you hand me that brush? I want to work on Master Y.” Grant reached out and Jamie gave him the brush she’d used on Chewie earlier. “I’m sure they haven’t forgotten Christmas presents. That’s kind of a big deal.”

  “Mmmhmm.” Jamie began to divide Chewie’s tail in three sections. “There’s one thing I think I would like for Christmas, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  She crossed one part of hair over the other. “A hat.”

  “A hat?”

  “Yeah, just like yours. I want to be a real cowboy too.”

  Grant couldn’t keep from smiling. Jamie’s words meant he’d had an impact on her in the short time they’d known each other. “Don’t you mean cowgirl?”

  She nodded, then looked up. “Do they get to wear hats too?”

  “Absolutely,” Grant promised.

  “Then I can be a cowgirl.” She finished plaiting Chewie’s tail and reached for a round elastic band to secure it. “Do you think I can come back and visit you sometime, Grant?”

  He placed the brush on a post, then walked over to Jamie. He knelt down next to the stool where she sat, then reached out and hugged her tightly.

  “Of course you can,” he said. “Anytime.”

  He pulled back and grasped the top of his hat with his hand, lifted it off his head, and placed it at an angle on Jamie’s. He could barely get the words out as emotion closed up his throat. This was it. It was the last thing he’d ever be able to do for Jamie. He wanted to make it count. He wanted to remember.

  He wanted her to remember. He wanted to be a force for good in her life, even if it was only for this short time. He wanted to speak both truth and love to her, because he knew her first years hadn’t contained enough of either and she deserved as much as she could be given.