Miracles and Mistletoe

by Cait London

  Then after a long searching look, he was gone. She listened to the sound of his boots crossing her floors again, just as he had entered her home the day before.

  “Fine, just fine. One love god escaping into the sunset. He’s absolutely free to roam the range, bonding and mating wherever. Take yourself away to your rock and roll bog. Forget about what happened between yesterday and now, and don’t call me ‘rosebud’,” Harmony muttered, drawing the edge of the sheet high to dry the tear trailing down her cheek. “Suits me, Mr. Ho Ho. And take care of my cupids.”

  ~**~

  Chapter Eight

  The middle of April was fine fighting and revenge-on-Jonah weather.

  After two weeks of saturating too many handkerchiefs and pillowcases with her tears and cuddling Therapy, Harmony had pasted herself together with revenge glue. It was now two and a half weeks since Jonah had breached her emotional castle, took her heart captive, then swashbuckled out again.

  The last half-week had given her a new dimension and she’d pulled herself out of the weeping bog onto a road headed straight for revenge on Jonah.

  One tiny, caring “How’s it going, kid?” call from Jonah would have gone a long way in soothing her emotions. She’d laminated her soul, mind, body and heart for a lifetime to Jonah. After two weeks of heart shredding and waiting for Jonah to initiate a discussion during their uneasy truce, Harmony had flipped on her ignition and had declared war.

  Jonah had lessons to learn. Like the etiquette of loving and leaving, and sensitivity to others. She would teach him a necessary lesson: When a woman opened her heart to him, claimed him with her soul and her body, Jonah shouldn’t walk out and not check back for a damage report.

  “I’ve never seen you on the revenge trail,” Pax remarked with a joyful smirk. “It’s pretty interesting. From what I see, you’re devouring food and losing weight. You are very emotional now, Harmony. Hmm... Nice, cool Harmony on a rampage. You usually avoid explosive situations—”

  “There is no way to avoid Jonah, Pax,” Harmony stated darkly. “He’s too big and too arrogant and too—”

  “Sweet? Lovable? Romantic?” Pax provided, then winked at his sister. “Be careful. You could bruise him. He’s been very sensitive when I mention your name. Looks at me like I’m going to accuse him of something and he isn’t sure what. Funny thing… you take such care to plan your life. You avoid using your powers or calling attention to yourself. I can’t imagine why you want to ‘teach Jonah a lesson.’ After seeing you drown your problems or rather, stuff yourself during the Mark episode—”

  “I was married to Mark, remember? Wives battle for a marriage, big brother. My problem with Jonah is entirely different. He requires head-on handling. He’s too arrogant, and this whole countryside has been babying him, letting him do just as he likes,” Harmony stated. She paused to listen to her new CB crackling as Dora Wainwright discussed where she wanted to place her cupid.

  “We let him do what he wants because he’s sweet,” Pax singsonged with a wide grin.

  “Whatever. His time is up, though. He’s messed with the wrong person.” Harmony was done weeping day and night, her body feeling listless without its missing part.

  Jonah had walked into her life, plucked her from her nice calming chamomile bath and had spent the night with her. The afternoon and the night and part of the morning, she corrected. A mini-honeymoon, sort of.

  Or was it a honeymoon for her and playtime for him? She had been loved and left because Jonah couldn’t handle reality. Or non-reality and his abilities.

  Well, Jonah had abilities— other than his lovemaking techniques— and that wasn’t her fault. He could have called her and explained his doubts about their relationship. She could understand that a person’s actions and thoughts could be drastically affected when they realized they had psychic abilities.

  “Everyone has let him do exactly as he wants, but I’m not going to,” she repeated.

  Pax’s eyebrows lifted. “Let Jonah do what he wants? Let?” he said incredulously. “He just does what he thinks is best and usually helps those people around him.”

  “Ha! Then he’s using emotional blackmail. Take a note, Pax. I have plans, big plans. I will not let Jonah off easily.”

  “My, my. I wonder why not? You’re in a snit, little sister. Hmm… That’s unusual for someone who sheds emotional distress and potential life mates—”

  “Stop pointing that out. And do not use my name and Jonah’s name in the same thought as you use life mate. He... is... not… my... heart mate.”

  Harmony interrupted the ranch wives’ rapid CB conversation about new rooftop decor at Thorville. “Breaker. This is the cupid maker. Why don’t you go over to the Fargo place and check out the lightning-rod design?”

  Pax sipped his herbal tea and grinned at her while she encouraged the ladies to rendezvous at Jonah’s cupid exhibit, her best work. Harmony wouldn’t take orders or talk to customers who hadn’t spent time at the Fargo ranch, observing the cupids, especially how the weather vane acted in the wind. She suggested the ladies might consider adding personalized initials to the cupids.

  “Revenge?” Pax asked, his golden eyes sparkling. “You’ve never been a revenge-seeking woman, Harmony. Or an especially angry one. Not even when Mark’s true colors were revealed.”

  “Stop nudging me. Mark is not Jonah Fargo,” Harmony stated firmly, pouring more herbal tea from her grandmother’s china teapot. She replaced the tea cozy as her grandmother had instructed her to do. She had always been sensible, doing what was expected of her. Until Jonah. She munched on her fifth raisin-and-nut cookie, Janice’s specialty. “And Jonah Fargo’s true colors are not sweet: I wanted to pay him back for saving my life and what did I get?”

  She glanced at Pax, flushed, and carefully shielded her thoughts with plans of her next addition to Therapy’s mane. The mane would be twisted metal cords adding light and movement that would match the tail. She watched Pax and knew he’d never sort through the twisted maze of metal mane, so she could think clearly until he unscrambled her camouflage.

  Harmony regretted every aching moment in the two weeks that she had spent snuggled next to Therapy. The black metal monster had reminded her of Jonah, big and unshakable. This last half week, she’d slept in her bed and cuddled her pillow.

  “So what’s this about Therapy’s horn? Or was that ‘horny’?” Pax asked, picking up portions of her fast moving thoughts. His readings were getting faster since she had arrived.

  “I refuse to sink to the level of your mentality.” Harmony stood abruptly, bumping the table, as she stood to take her cup and saucer to the sink. Her energy levels seemed unusually high, humming with the need to avenge her nights of crying over Jonah.

  She was through with mourning the event, rather the several notable events. There would be no more bonding and mating thoughts involving Mr. Fargo. She focused on sweet revenge.

  Jonah’s dark ominous voice shot from the CB. “I heard that, little sweetheart, Cupid Maker. What’s the idea of making my ranch into your advertisement catalog?” he demanded.

  The cup and saucer rattled in her hands before she lowered them to the table. Harmony allowed herself a pleased, tight smirk. She’d been waiting for her bait to draw him from his hermit hole.

  Her boots clumped on the way to the CB’s microphone; she jerked it to her lips, jabbed the speaker button down and stated very distinctly,” This is not ‘little sweetheart.’ My buyers need to see the real product before they place their orders. You have possession, don’t you, buckaroo?”

  “I’m keeping it, too,” Jonah shot back. “You know what to do to get them back.” Then his CB clicked off.

  Harmony simmered for a full moment. “It’s just like him to turn off his CB rather than discuss this like two adults. He’s holding my poor cupids as his hostages. There’s no telling what damage the birds are doing to them. My weather vane design won’t support an eagle’s weight, you know.”

  “You co
uld discuss this problem like two psychic adults.” Pax said with a grin.

  Jonah’s CB crackled on. “Cupid Maker, come around suppertime if you can and bring something to eat to put me in a good mood. I like peach pie.”

  “Not today, dear. I have a headache,” she said too sweetly, and blinked at Pax’s roaring laughter.

  “Are your desecrators having tea over there?” Jonah asked sharply after a static silence.

  “It’s a party, and you’re not invited.”

  “Fine. I’ve got my cupids for company, don’t I? Sprinkle sugar over that pie when you bake it, will you?” His machine clicked off again.

  Harmony gripped her microphone tightly and tapped her work boot. The clumping rhythmic sound pacified her taut nerves and the tension humming in her body. “I hate that... when he gets the last word in.”

  “I bonded with Janice the minute I met her,” Pax began slowly, his lips still touched by laughter. “She said it was love, but I knew nothing would separate us in this lifetime.”

  Harmony shot him a be-quiet stare. “I did not bond with Jonah Fargo. Did you remember to tell Amy Lodge to drop by Jonah’s and take all her friends?”

  “No need to. She saw your ad in the newspaper. Nice little map directing everyone to the Fargo place if they didn’t know where it was.”

  “I thought it was a neat touch.”

  “Not too bad for someone who has just gotten into the revenge business. But I don’t believe for a minute that there’s not more to this story than Jonah keeping your cupids hostage.”

  “‘Graffiti,’ he called them,” Harmony muttered. “My cupids are beautiful.”

  Jonah’s radio crackled. In the background, Shrimp howled mournfully, aching for calmer times and better companions. “Pax? Tell your little sister that she’s not getting away with this. You ought to see the females climbing all over this place... My gosh, sweet heaven on Saturday, Aunt Sue’s shoes… Outside my window right now, there are the whole eight Peace-Jewel sisters— Opal, Diamond... the whole herd of them are standing around my barn. They filled three vans and brought their daughters and grandkids.”

  “Has June turned up yet?” Harmony asked too innocently.

  “Anytime, little sweetheart,” Jonah crooned in a come-and- get-it warning. “Anytime you’re ready.”

  “He sounds tired,” Pax said when Harmony plopped down, picked up her cup and began to study her tealeaves. “Has he resolved his daughter’s death? Is he recognizing his ability?”

  Harmony swirled her tealeaves out of the shape that designated love. “How should I know? I explained it to him. I can’t make him open his locked-door mentality.”

  “Though he doesn’t realize his potential, Jonah comes from a strong, old line of seers and intuitives,” Pax stated slowly. “He is your match... if he becomes aligned with himself.”

  “Don’t worry about his alignment,” Harmony said and resented the sadness closing in around her heart. She’d been aligned very closely with Jonah Fargo and the encounter left her with a bleeding heart. She sniffed and brushed away a tear and looked out into the bright April sunlight. “Just keep him away from me.”

  “Love isn’t that easy, little sister. You can’t will it away, explain it or focus away from it. You can’t line it up in an orderly fashion,” Pax murmured soothingly as he held her hand.

  “I will get him for his savage behavior. He won’t hold my cupids hostage and get away with it,” Harmony promised and drew on her welding gloves. “There is no way love has anything to do with this.”

  “You’ve cloaked your powers, Harmony,” Pax noted quietly. “Avoided and disguised them because you were hurt so badly. But love isn’t reasonable and it will surface. If love is meant to happen between you and Jonah, it will.”

  “No,” she said firmly. “We’re not talking about love, Pax. We’re talking about dislike and teaching Jonah a lesson.”

  The CB crackled and June’s husky voice purred, “Jonah, is that you? I’ve got your favorite peach pie baking in the oven.”

  “Pax, I’ve got to get back to work. Will you see that the crates outside are mailed to my customers?” Harmony asked airily before she clicked off the CB and strode off to battle Therapy. When she was calmer, she would return to making cupid weather vanes. With the women of Thorville anxious for their orders, she would have a busy season. She would be lucky if she managed to fill the stores’ orders for shipping by Christmas. But hard work squelched her thoughts about Jonah and that was good.

  He was a dip in her smooth-flowing road. A pock on her emotions, a— Harmony looked down at Therapy’s horn, captured tightly in her fingers. There were times when nice didn’t pay, and this was one of them. Jonah had to pay for loving her so sweetly, then showing his skunkly self. She couldn’t let him get away with his hit-and-run techniques, with interfering with her carefully planned life, with making her explode nor with taking her where she had never been before.

  She held Therapy’s horn tightly. Jonah needed a lesson about playing tour guide with her passions.

  Her body clenched intimately and she refused to spend one more heartbeat imagining how he had looked filling her, riding high and magnificent on passion that she had matched.

  It was her heart, she thought sadly. Even if Jonah were experiencing his own traumas, he really shouldn’t have done that to her deepest most-protected heart and soul.

  ~**~

  That afternoon, Jonah looked at the quivering pitchfork, the sharp tines sunken deep into the wood.

  He had been working furiously, pushing away the child’s crying, forcing the barn into quiet and fighting what was within him. He couldn’t bear to think about Grace wanting her doll. He’d never given her what she wanted so much—

  Then the pitchfork had hurled itself through the barn’s shadows and stuck into the weathered boards.

  Not that Shrimp was any help as a listening companion. Shorty Jones had called from town with the news that Shrimp had carried her sleeping rug to Roderegas’s statue. Shorty would see that Shrimp was well fed, but she wasn’t responding to her name lately.

  Jonah had informed him that lately Shrimp liked being called Elizabeth. She had carried a magazine to him; the front cover was filled with photos of a movie star. Shrimp had plopped her paw on Elizabeth’s beautiful face, claiming the name for her own.

  Jonah ran his hand over his jaw, then gripped the old buggy’s seat. Tucked in the barn against the elements, the buggy had been his father’s pride and Jonah had carried on the tradition of polishing and keeping it primed.

  Now he gripped it for a lifeline and the fringed top quivered with the force of his emotions. The cupids were getting to him.

  The little bushwhackers and the lack of sleep, his body humming to return to Harmony’s soft one, and the child crying made him want to run off into a western painting.

  He missed Harmony. Anything could set him off, triggering images of soft tawny eyes, her rosebud mouth, the surprised gasp as he filled her. No one had touched her before, not really, and she was his now...

  He did not want Harmony Davis in his life. She had weird ideas and had him jumping from the moment she turned on her CB this past week. She’d led an attack on him, on the Fargo ranch, infesting it with cooing women and men determined to get what their sweethearts wanted. He wondered if there was a law stopping women from using CB’s; they already monopolized his telephone’s party line

  “Cupids,” Jonah muttered and walked out of the barn.

  In the bright sunlight, smirking, gleaming copper cupids attacked him.

  And June. He saw her car now, and she was rushing toward him. June’s eyes lit up when she saw him. Her hard green eyes devoured him, her body throbbing with heat for his. He caught a flashing image of what June wanted to do to him and fear trickled up his neck.

  Jonah swallowed and backed against the side of the barn as June batted her heavily mascaraed lashes up at him. When he really wanted to run from her, he nodded politely. “Jun
e.”

  “Why, Jonah. I heard about the cupids. I love them… I really do— I didn’t know you were getting ready to... to date again after so many years,” June cooed, her gaze running hungrily down and up his body. “You should have told me.”

  Jonah blinked. He’d rather have an hourly CB showdown with Harmony, or wear cupid undershorts, than to face June even once in his lifetime.

  He inched to one side and she sidled closer to him, pinning him to the barn with the rather pointy tips of her breasts. He stood very still, stuck to the barn with June’s distinctive twin cones, and knew instantly how much care she had taken to choose and pad her underwear. She’d searched through stores and catalogs for months for the right push-up, pointy look that she thought men liked.

  He thought about Harmony’s round breasts with their rosebud tips. They were soft and sweet against him. She’d ruined him, he thought grimly, then caught a fresh mind blast of June’s plans for him.

  June was not getting her hands on any part of him. An image of Harmony stroking Therapy’s horn zipped by him and Jonah sensed his guilt, as though he’d been unfaithful. June hadn’t laid a hand on him and she wasn’t going to, either.

  He gripped her upper arms to remove her from his path, to get an object between them... like a wall or field or a mountain. Then June launched herself at him, locking her arms around his neck, and off balance, Jonah shot one hand out to brace against the wall and the other on June’s waist to protect her from falling.

  “Oh, Jonah...” she simpered immediately.

  There should be a law against pointy bras, Jonah decided grimly as June clung tighter to him.

  The air stilled and he caught a scent: lighter, more fragile than the woman in his arms.

  Trapped by unfamiliar emotions, Jonah blinked. Pain... deep riveting pain, like a heart torn apart, and crystal tears spilling from wounded amber eyes— Harmony… Harmony was behind him...

  He tried to ease himself away from June, to turn to the woman who was now mounting her horse to run—