The Lumberjack's Yuletide Bride

by Kimberly Krey

  Saying it out loud was like ripping a bandage off of a gruesome blemish: weakness. Bear couldn’t help but squirm at how exposed he felt under his mother’s gaze. Even if he did trust her more than anyone.

  Grace nodded. “I guess it’s possible. But what’s the worst thing she could do?”

  He shrugged. “Worst case, mess things up between James and I. Ruin my shot at owning the bulk of the business. Somehow deflate the value of the company and mess with our retirement funds.” Funds that were—at this point—substantial; if things remained as they were, the Schaefer family would be sitting pretty for generations to come. But there were no guarantees.

  “I don’t think she’s capable of doing any of that, Bear,” Grace said. “Or that she’d even get that vicious.”

  “Maybe not,” he said, the discomfort in his gut shifting a bit. “I also worry that she’ll try to slander my name or image. Wreck any relationship I try to form.” He knew it sounded unlikely, but that didn’t ease his concern any.

  “You can’t go around living in fear, Bear. Building your future on a set of what-ifs. You’re going to have to trust that if she does do something to retaliate, you’ll get past it. Whatever it is. God’s got a way of setting wrong things right. It’s your job to do what’s right regardless of the consequences.”

  Bear took a moment to absorb that. His mother’s words like much-needed nourishment to the dark depths of his fears. When sponges ran dry, they turned jagged and sharp, like rocks. His insides had felt like that since he’d assumed Dad’s many duties regarding the business, the logging team, and his family too. Yet already, the edges were softening, soaking up the phrase his father often used: God’s got a way of setting wrong things right, son.

  He gave her a nod. “Thanks, Mom. You’re right.”

  Grace chuckled and wrapped her arms around him. “Moms usually are.”

  Bear laughed too. “I’ll do it. I’ll make sure Kristen knows I’d like to keep things professional between us. No matter the cost.”

  “One note of advice,” Grace said, leaning back and patting his cheeks. “I know you two aren’t officially dating, but I’d still wait and have the conversation in person. It’s better that way.”

  He nodded. “I fly into California before Thanksgiving. I’ll do it then.”

  “That’s my boy. Now let’s go get some of that pie.”

  Talking things out with his mother had calmed Bear’s nerves on the subject. Perhaps he’d been worrying for no reason. Heck, just last night Kristen had posted pictures of her sandwiched between two Hollywood hunks. Kristen was aiming for the lifestyle she’d always wanted, and he should be doing the same.

  And with that thought, a vision of Maddie came to mind.

  Chapter 7

  “I just wouldn’t get your hopes up if I were you. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Maddie stared blankly across her kitchen, into the space that separated her from her rarely-had-a-kind-word-to-say mother. Of course, the literal space between them was 612 miles, give or take. But her mom still knew how to do damage, even over the phone.

  “Okay,” she said. “You’ve never given me much hope where guys are concerned.” She readjusted the phone on her hand. “I’ve better go now.”

  “Oh, don’t get all pouty with me. You’re the one who called me, remember?”

  Maddie blinked down at the forgotten cutting board, the knife and carrot sticks lying nearby. Why had she done that? Why had Maddie thought that Claudia Montgomery would be encouraging for once in her adult life?

  Memories of growing up were just fine. Mom was a normal, healthy, kind, and encouraging woman. But after Dad left, she became critical and harsh. And that only got worse after Maddie left for school and came back with a degree. Of course, that was part of the problem. Mom and her sister April had moved to Spokane while Maddie was in school and—according to her mom—Maddie had chosen Cobble Creek over them.

  “What do you expect, Maddie? You were a high school cheerleader when Bear Schaefer last showed interest in you. Remember that? He’s gone on, had a taste of what it’s like to be a big shot, and is spending time with the industry’s very own Paris Hilton. You have to be realistic.”

  That last comment had teeth. What exactly was Maddie thinking? That she could score one of the hottest men to ever grace a billboard? When he had Kristen Grandy by his side, no less? A woman who looked a whole lot like Candy Simpson, the girl Bear dated in high school. “It’s not like they’re dating.”

  “You don’t know that,” her mother retorted.

  Maddie remained quiet, though she’d read as much in a recent People Magazine article. The interview was supposed to feature Bear’s take on some controversial forest procedures, but the interviewer still managed to slip in a question about his love life.

  “I’ve got to get going, hon,” her mother came again. “I think you’re beautiful, okay? And I know you have a whole lot to offer someone. But if you ask me, you shouldn’t be turning your nose up at men like William. Chances are you’re Willy Walker in Bear’s eyes. Heaven knows that’s what I was to your dad.”

  Maddie’s mouth dropped open.

  “Bye, hon.”

  Willy Walker in Bear’s eyes? Was that true? Was she simply some quirky, clumsy person he’d never have real feelings for? Maybe.

  She thought back on her moments with Bear. She had been pretty awkward in the faculty room. Dressed like she’d just rolled out of bed. All flush-faced and swoony. And now that she thought about it, it wasn’t like Bear had shown special interest in her. He wasn’t even the one to call Maddie up to the stage; Kate had done that. And in the teacher’s lounge, he’d been just as nice to everyone else as he had her.

  Just why had Maddie been so sure they’d had any type of connection? Hope, she realized. Hope that carried all the way back to a moment they almost shared. Almost. Perhaps the reason they hadn’t shared that moment was because what her mother said was true: She was the awkward, quirky girl Bear Schaefer would never have feelings for.

  She set the phone onto the butcher block and lined up a row of baby carrots, nudging the tops evenly against the blade of the knife. With four quick movements, the sticks turned to slices, thick enough to make a nice bite.

  Why did her mom always have to be the one to bring her back down to earth?

  Maddie moved the slices to the corner of the board with the blade and repeated the action with another handful of bright orange carrots. She lifted the blade again, readied to cut into the batch, when she stopped short, set down the knife, and wiped a tear that slipped down her cheek.

  Fine. She was somebody’s Willy Walker. Of course she was. But that didn’t mean she had to marry him.

  She spun around to check the stockpot. More wide than deep, the pot was perfect for boiling the meat off Main Street Deli’s rotisserie chicken. Using a hot pad, she lifted the lid, allowing steam to rise in a warm cloud toward her face.

  Here she’d gotten her hopes up after the assembly. Had Maddie actually thought she could compete with someone like Kristen Grandy? How ridiculous. Walking up there in clothes she’d purchased at Duckdale’s superstore. Heck, she’d bought that outfit in the same place she’d bought supplies for her class’s leaves the week before.

  Maddie laughed out loud, covered her mouth, and fought back a manic onset of tears. The shoes, though … those she’d ordered online. And they were fabulous. But maybe that just proved her mother’s point all the more. Maddie didn’t really know where she belonged. Was she a small-town teacher or a want-to-be fashion diva?

  No, Maddie. This is dumb. You’re letting her get into your head again. Stop it.

  She pulled in a deep breath of encouragement, grabbed her phone, and connected it to her portable speaker. A moment later, the steady beat of “Sweet Home Alabama” filled the kitchen. That was better.

  Darkness stretched beyond the windows, but not here. Not in her home. Here, in her small kitchen in Cobble Creek, warmth and light flourished
.

  Back at the stockpot, a swing in her hips, Maddie used forks to separate the meat and remove the bones. At the cutting board, she finished chopping carrots and breezed through the celery as well, belting out the songs as they came.

  She wouldn’t let someone else determine her outlook, no matter who they were. Maddie was in control of her own life. And when she wasn’t talking to her mom, she was actually pretty happy with it. Even if she was alone.

  Still, after adding the noodles and boiling the soup to just the right tenderness, Maddie discovered she wasn’t so hungry after all.

  Chapter 8

  Normally Bear didn’t take a lunch. Especially on days like this, when he still had so much catching up to do. But he had something else on his mind today, and he wasn’t about to put it off for a minute longer.

  The school parking lot didn’t look much different than it had when he’d shown up earlier that week. Not a whole lot of cars, which made sense, seeing that none of the students could get behind the wheel just yet.

  He stepped out of his car and headed toward the elementary building, snow crunching and squeaking beneath his boots. Earlier, he’d called Nancy, the school secretary, to find out what time Maddie’s lunch was, but he still wasn’t sure what he should do. Walk into her class and see if she was there? Or maybe she’d be in the break room. He couldn’t remember teachers eating in the cafeteria, so he was pretty sure he could rule that out.

  He tugged open the door in time to see a familiar guy escorting a small child through the other set of doors. “Bill? Billy Stanton?”

  The man glanced up. He looked startled at first, then a smile lit his face. “Bear!” He slapped a hand on Bear’s shoulder. “How the heck are ya?”

  Bear grinned, reaching out to give him a pat as well. “I’m great. Yeah, just … is this your …”

  “Yes, this is Dylan.” Billy’s smile fell a bit. “He’s not feeling too well today. Are you, buddy?”

  The kid, wide green eyes like his dad’s, shook his head.

  “Oh man, I’m sorry about that. Lucky you’ve got your dad here to come get you, huh?”

  He nodded and pulled in closer to his dad, his small fingers gripping at the side seam of his jeans. The closeness. The trust. That dependency on his father, all of it caused a small tug at Bear’s heart.

  “Well, we’ll have to catch up sometime,” Billy said. “Maybe grab a few drinks.”

  “Definitely,” Bear agreed. “I’d like that.”

  “You’re the lumberjack,” the small kid said.

  Bear looked down. “That’s right,” he said.

  “You made my teacher dress up like you.” He let out a small chuckle.

  “Is Ms. Maddie your teacher?”

  He giggled once more, causing the freckles on his cheeks to pop. “She’s Ms. Collins.”

  “Aw, that’s right. Do you like her? Is she a good teacher?”

  He nodded. “Do you like her too?”

  Bear glanced up to catch a smile on Billy’s face. “Sure,” he said. “Doesn’t everybody?”

  The little one nodded again, a small dimple appearing in his cheek. Dang, he was cute.

  “Well, you go on and get better now, okay? You don’t want to miss any more school than you have to, right?”

  “That’s right,” Billy agreed. “You take care, man. I’ll get in touch about those drinks.”

  What would it feel like to have a kid of his own? Bear definitely looked forward to that day. He hoped to have a boy or two to carry on the name, and hopefully the logging tradition. And he wouldn’t mind having a girl too. A cute little gal that looked a lot like her momma.

  When an image of Maddie came to mind, Bear had to wonder how he’d gotten so far ahead of himself. Sure, he and Maddie seemed to have chemistry back in the day. But what if she wasn’t interested?

  There was only one way to find out.

  “Put all of your scraps in the garbage, please. I don’t want to see any paper scraps on the floor.” Maddie watched the kids scurry around the room, collecting brightly colored pieces from their chairs, desks, and the floor. “Good job. Quick, quick. Who heard what they’re serving for lunch?”

  “Meatball subs,” Jackson hollered.

  “With a frosted cookie,” chimed Callie. The girls’ area was already clean, as expected. Callie didn’t like letting her scraps fall anywhere but on her desk, where she swept them neatly into a pile between cutting.

  “There’s green beans too,” Maddie said. “And I think … wasn’t there a potato of some sort?”

  “French fries,” several kids hollered in unison.

  “Mmm, yes. French fries. Then, when we come back, we’ve got our story to read today. It’s a good one. I really think you’re going to like it.”

  The kids finished up just as the bell rang, and soon they were lined up at the door. It was Marcus’s turn to lead the line, and boy, did that kid make sure everyone knew it.

  She eyed his proud posture as he shifted anxiously from one foot to the next.

  He raked a few fingers through that thick red hair of his. “Can I go now?”

  Maddie glanced down the hall to see William, who was standing in the second-grade doorway, give the it’s-time nod. “Yep,” she said. “Lead the way, Marcus.”

  “Everyone follow me,” the kid boomed. “Here we go.”

  Maddie chuckled as she watched. He’d be a good drill sergeant one day, perhaps. Something in leadership, anyway. The thought had barely come to her as something caught her eye. Or rather, someone. Dressed in clothes like the ones she’d donned at the assembly, Bear Schaefer strode past the end of the hall. He disappeared just as quickly, leaving Maddie to wonder where he was headed.

  A massive dose of heat flared up in her chest. Her face got hot too, the warmth seeming to climb up her neck and into her cheeks. Stop it, Maddie. How ridiculous to think he might be here because of you. What kind of self-absorbed person was she?

  But an inner voice still dared to hope. A voice that assured her there was chemistry between her and Bear. She’d felt it years ago, and she’d felt it the other day too. The question was, did he? Feelings were one-sided all the time. There was a name for it, even—a crush. If people went around liking everyone who liked them in return, the word crush wouldn’t even exist.

  Please don’t say I have a crush on Bear Schaefer, Cobble Creek’s most wanted bachelor ever. But she did, and Maddie knew it.

  Marcus marched around the corner, the echo of his left, left, right, left chant carrying down the hall. Maddie followed the snake of lined heads with folded arms and shushing voices, her heart rattling like the tail of the snake as she spotted Bear again. There, leaning against the open doorway, stood the magnificent lumberjack in all of his manly glory.

  Marcus reached out to give him a high five, and so started the chain of high fives down the line.

  “Hi, Bear,” one mumbled.

  “It’s the lumberjack,” another kid said. The excitement of his presence was palpable among the first-graders, and Maddie couldn’t help but swoon. From the time he’d stepped onto the stage and shown how comfortable he was with the kids, she’d been smitten. And here he was again, charming them all, one by one.

  She strode slower as the last kid went, balancing in her modest pumps with arms folded over her chest. Like every good elementary teacher, she was the undying example of hands-to-self.

  The lunch lady, Ms. Clark, gave Maddie the nod, adjusting the net over her hair as her gaze shifted to Bear. Seems he had an effect on the older generation as well.

  Maddie’s gaze drifted back to the school’s uninvited guest, who nodded to his outstretched hand.

  “C’mon,” he coaxed. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

  Maddie reached out and gave his palm a slap, grinning at how small her hand was in comparison.

  Bear surprised her by capturing her hand in his and holding it in place. He held her gaze as a smile spread over his handsome face. “You know what?” he
said, cradling her hand in both of his. He tipped his head back to observe it. “I think your hand is even smaller than some of the first-graders’.”

  Maddie laughed, pulling it away to give him a slap on the shoulder. “So what are you doing here?” She hadn’t meant to come out and ask it, but she was glad she had. May as well tame her wild hopes before they spread any further.

  “I’m here to see you, actually.”

  It was a good thing she’d pulled her hand away; it broke out in a sweat at his words. “Oh yeah? I feel honored.”

  The confidence in his smile was intimidating. “Well …” He ran a thumb beneath the strap of his suspenders and let it snap back into place. “Can we walk a bit? Maybe down the hall or wherever you take your lunch?”

  “Sure.” Her throat was tightening now. This was worse than junior high and high school combined. She was entirely out of practice. “I made a giant pot of chicken noodle soup last night, and since it would take weeks for me to finish it, I brought it here. I can heat it up for both of us.” She turned her face toward the hall and cursed herself as she walked. It felt like she had just asked him out or something.

  “Chicken soup?” he asked. “I’m a sucker for soup.”

  Maddie nodded, telling herself to breathe before she passed out right there in the hallway. “Good,” she managed.

  She eyed the clock as she led him into the teacher’s lounge, knowing she had only a few minutes before the other teachers trickled in. William was probably already on his way.

  “Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll heat up the soup and we’ll take it back to my room.”

  “Oh,” he said, a bit of pout in his deep voice. “My mom says I’m not allowed to go into a girl’s room.”