Christmas At Copper Mountain (A Copper Mountain Christmas)

by Jane Porter

  He’d listened in silence. “Better timing? What does that mean?”

  “It means...” her voice faded. Her stomach hurt, so full of short sharp pains that it felt as if she’d been eating barbed wire. “It means... I’ve known you not quite two weeks, and your kids just six days, and we can’t risk hurting them, or each other, by being impulsive, no matter how romantic it seems.”

  He’d said nothing for a long time and then he rolled away and sat up on the edge of the bed, his big muscular back to her, his powerful legs on the floor. “Yeah, Mr. Romantic, that’s me.” And then he’d rose and walked to his bathroom, closed the door and took a long shower.

  Harley had returned to her bed on the third floor, her room frigid, her sheets icy cold.

  She’d cried into her pillow.

  Cried because she’d hurt him and cried because she’d hurt herself. It was brutal telling him no, brutal telling her heart no. But she had to keep focused on facts and the big picture.

  They hadn’t known each other long.

  He had two children who were so vulnerable right now. His children didn’t need drama. They’d been through so much. They should be protected. Surrounded by stability, security.

  She was doing the right thing, saying no. Her head was sure of it.

  But that didn’t stop her from crying.

  In the morning she was up at five. It was dark outside. It’d be dark for at least another hour and a half.

  She took a quick shower and then dressed, tucking her pajamas and vanity bag into her suitcase. She was totally packed now. When the new housekeeper arrived, Harley would just grab her suitcase and go.

  They’d keep the goodbyes brief. No big emotional scene. Nothing drawn out. She was Dutch. She could do this. Quick, crisp, clean.

  That’s the way goodbyes were meant to be.

  Her kids came to mind, their bright eyes and big smiles as they’d left her that last morning, smiling, waving, saying they loved her. Saying they’d see her soon.

  Talk about a quick goodbye. They’d walked out the door and she’d never seen them again.

  Life was brutal that way. Life was capricious and hard and harsh. Harley couldn’t rush into hard and harsh, she couldn’t go there again...

  Or could she?

  She thought of Mack and Molly and how they’d spent their entire life wondering what it’d be like to have a mom. They were just babies themselves and still in need of so much love and TLC.

  Could she face her fear for them?

  Could she face her fear to love their dad?

  Harley wished, hoped, but didn’t know. And yet she had to know. She had to believe.

  But the confidence wasn’t there inside of her. She wasn’t sure of anything right now, too caught up in the emotions sweeping through her.

  Hope, wish, dream, need.

  Heartbreak, loss, pain, grief.

  Which was bigger, which was stronger?

  Love was stronger, but was there enough love here? Was there enough love to mend their hearts and make them work?

  How would she know? How could she know?

  Leaving her suitcase by her bedroom door, she turned off her bedroom light and headed downstairs.

  In the kitchen, the fire was already crackling and burning.

  Dark, rich coffee brewed on the counter.

  Brock was up.

  And knowing that made her want him, but she couldn’t waffle and send mixed signals.

  Taking her time, taking things slow was right. Being careful and thoughtful was best.

  And yet... and yet... part of her yearned to just run to him. Run and say, forgive me. Keep me. Love me.

  He would, too. She knew it. Knew that he might not be a perfect man but he was honest and tough and strong and real.

  She’d watched him here on this ranch, and he did nothing halfway. When he was worried one of the young calves was missing, he’d gone back out in the dark, in a snowstorm, to track it down. And he hadn’t come home until he’d found him.

  A man of his word.

  A man of the word. He’d waited for her. Prayed for her.

  She poured herself a cup of coffee and went to the window above the sink to look out. Stars still shone brightly overhead. She searched the dark sky for a sign... her own North Star.

  And then something amazing happened.

  The sky lit up in a thousand colored lights. Red, blue, green, yellow, gold, white. Light after light glowing brightly, revealing the white landscape glittering in a fresh clean layer of newly fallen slow.

  Leaning toward the window, she realized that it wasn’t the sky filled with lights but the big tree in the corner of the yard.

  The huge pine tree—twenty-something feet tall—was covered in brilliant glowing colorful light.

  The huge pine tree was a Christmas tree.

  Oh, God.

  The biggest most beautiful Christmas tree she’d ever seen. Here. Here. And she knew who’d done it and she knew why he’d done it and she didn’t think she could bear it.

  It would have taken hours.

  It would have taken all night.

  She put her head down on the counter, and cried.

  Crying because it was too much. It was. There weren’t words for things like this. Weren’t words for things so beautiful and magical. Life-changing. Momentous. Life-changing. Healing. Life changing.

  Hope.

  Faith.

  Grace.

  God.

  And Harley just cried.

  How could she leave them? How could she go? How could she leave when there was nowhere else she’d rather be?

  “We think you’re supposed to be here,” Molly said, her voice soft and hushed on the far side of the kitchen.

  Harley straightened, turning abruptly, wiping her cheeks dry. It was impossible. The tears kept falling.

  Molly and Mack were in their pajamas and yet beneath their pajamas were snow boots and snowflakes glittered on their hair and dusted their pink cheeks.

  “We know you’re supposed to be here,” Mack corrected. “It’s the plan.”

  “The plan?” Harley whispered.

  Molly walked to Harley and took her hand. “We figured it out last night after Dad told us about your kids, how you lost your kids, like we lost our mom.”

  Mack nodded. “We couldn’t sleep ‘cause we knew why you were here. Mom sent you here. She knew you missed your kids and she knew we missed her...” His voice faded.

  For a moment there was only silence.

  Molly squeezed Harley’s hand. “We think our mom is in heaven taking care of your kids,” Molly said quietly. “Because I bet even in heaven, kids need a mom, and I bet my mom would be a good one. Dad said she was a good mom. Dad said she loved us.”

  “I’m sure she was the best mom ever,” Harley whispered, the lump so big in her throat that she was afraid she’d cry all over again.

  “We bet you were a really good mom, too,” Molly added. “A really, really good mom. Because you’re not even our mom and you’re really, really nice to us.”

  Harley held her breath, praying for control. But when tears fell, Molly’s cool fingers were there, on Harley’s cheeks, carefully wiping them away.

  “We like you,” Molly whispered in a low voice. “We like you a lot, Harley, so please don’t go.”

  Mack nodded. “I think, we think, we know, Mom sent you to us. That’s why Dad put the lights on Mom’s tree.”

  “Come on,” Molly said, tugging on her hand. “Let’s go outside. Let’s go see Mom’s tree.”

  “Why do you call it Mom’s tree?” Harley asked, as they pulled her though the hall, past the stairs, and out the front door where the massive cedar tree lit with endless strands of colored light.

  “Because Mom planted the tree for Dad,” Mack said, drawing Harley down the front steps, into the thick powdered snow. “It was her wedding present to him. She planted it near the house so he’d always remember how much she loved him.”

  They mo
ved around the side of the enormous glowing tree and there was Brock, waiting for her.

  “Amy said the tree would always be here, protecting me, and the house, and our family with love,” Brock said, moving toward her, taking her hands in his. “And she has. She’s done her part. But she knows we need more. We need you.”

  Brock dug out of his pocket a ring case, and snapped it open, revealing a sparkling diamond ring. An engagement ring. “I’m not giving up, Harley. Won’t give up. I’m a fighter, and I’m fighting for you, and I’ll fight for you as long as I have to.”

  Harley stared at Brock and then at the ring, understanding, but not understanding. “When did you buy the ring?”

  “Yesterday with the kids in Marietta.”

  The twins nodded. “We helped pick it out,” Mack said, shyly. “We wanted you to have a really big diamond, too.”

  “Girls like big diamonds,” Molly said.

  “You’re serious?” Harley whispered, looking at Brock. “You mean this?”

  “Oh, I absolutely mean this, Harley. I’ve been up all night trying to show you somehow that we need you here, that we want you here. Just have faith. We do.”

  Have faith.

  But she did. It’s all that had gotten her through. And now she was here, and was it her faith that had brought her here?

  “I do, too,” she answered huskily.

  “Good.” He leaned forward kissed her. And then he got down on one knee in the snow and took her hand, holding it firmly in his. “Harley Diekerhoff, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Yes?” he asked, making sure.

  For a moment there was just silence. It was a perfect silence,

  accompanied by a sense of peace. A perfect peace.

  “Yes,” she answered, as he rose and swept her up in his arms. “Yes,” she repeated, laughing through happy tears. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “I love you,” he whispered against her mouth, kissing her.

  “I love you, too.”

  He kept kissing her and the twins cheered. And then there was even more cheering, loud raucous cheering and whistling and Harley realized that all the boys from the bunk house were here, too, watching.

  But it was good.

  All was right in the world.

  Faith had brought her here.

  Miracles were possible.

  And love would keep them together.

  THE END

  If you enjoyed this story, you’ll also love:

  Take Me, Cowboy – Jane Porter

  Buy now | Find out more

  A Cowboy For Christmas – Katherine Garbera

  Buy now | Find out more

  Home For Christmas – Melissa McClone

  Buy now | Find out more

  An excerpt from

  Take Me, Cowboy

  Jane Porter

  Copyright © 2013

  “I can’t do it, Jenny. I can’t go through with this.”

  The warm dry autumn wind whipped Jenny Wright’s wedding veil up above her shoulders, fine lace grazing her cheek. Having lived the past ten years in Chicago, Jenny had forgotten the wind that whistled from Yellowstone, down through Paradise Valley, turning the ranching valley into a wind tunnel.

  The wind snapped and crackled now, the gusts as much a part of Marietta as the iconic peak of Copper Mountain jutting behind the small, sleepy Montana town. Marietta had surged to life in the late 1800s before nearly dying, when the copper boom proved to be nothing more than a hiccup and all the investors and prospectors packed up and moved away.

  It’d been a hundred and twenty some years since then but it was still hard to make a living in Marietta.

  It’s why she’d left town as soon as she’d graduated from high school. It’s why she’d been determined to never move back.

  She’d only come home for her wedding. Only come home to make her family proud.

  Jenny gently plucked the delicate veil from her small diamond and pearl earring before it tore. “I didn’t catch that, honey,” she said, smashing the sudden rush of adrenaline flooding her veins.

  No need to panic, she told herself. It was so windy today, and others might not like the gusts, but the wind had blown all the clouds north, leaving the sky above Marietta a perfect brilliant blue, and the wind had made it hard to hear.

  Because for a moment there, it sounded as if Charles said he wouldn’t marry her. But that didn’t make sense. He and his family were here. The guests were here. The minister was here, all in the church waiting.

  Waiting.

  Her stomach rose and fell. She swallowed hard, fighting a sudden rush of nausea. She hadn’t slept well last night, nervous. Excited.

  Excited, she silently insisted. Not terrified. Or sad. She would never be sad. This was the right decision. This was the best decision. It was.

  It had to be.

  “Can you say that again?” she asked him, fighting her veil and tamping down the horrible rush of adrenaline flooding her veins. “I didn’t hear you, honey.”

  He hesitated.

  She stared at his mouth, focusing on his lips, not wanting to miss a thing this time.

  And looking at his mouth, she tried to feel reassured. Because she knew him. She’d worked for his company for years, first as an administrative assistant in Human Resources, then as a manager, before he’d hand -picked her to be his assistant, and then his girlfriend. His woman. It hadn’t happened over night. At least the love part.

  The love part had been tricky, but she loved him now. He’d been in her life a long time, and he’d been good to her. Better than any man had been to her.

  And just like that her chest squeezed and her eyes burned and her throat threatened to close.

  Maybe it wasn’t the wild fierce passionate love you read about in books, but it was steady and kind, and based on respect. Mutual respect.

  They were good for each other.

  “Charles?” she whispered, fighting the awful aching lump in her throat.

  He just stared at her, gray eyes shadowed. “Things got out of hand, Jenny. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He said nothing.

  She bit down so hard into her bottom lip she tasted lipstick and blood.

  Keep it together, she told herself. Keep it together. You can fix this. You can. You’ve fixed everything else in his life... you can fix this, too.

  She masked her panic with one of her professional smiles. Thank God for a stressful career. The workload and deadlines had taught her to cope with pressure. She’d learned how to be strong. “I hear almost every bride and groom experience some cold feet. It’s natural.” She managed a lopsided smile. “We wouldn’t be normal if we didn’t have a few pre-wedding jitters.”

  “Jenny, I’m not going to marry you.”

  Take Me, Cowboy – Jane Porter

  Buy now | Find out more

  About the Author

  Bestselling author Jane Porter has been a finalist for the prestigious RITA award four times and has over 12 million copies in print. Jane’s novel, Flirting With Forty, picked by Redbook as its Red Hot Summer Read, went back for seven printings in six weeks before being made into a Lifetime movie starring Heather Locklear. A mother of three sons, Jane holds an MA in Writing from the University of San Francisco and makes her home in sunny San Clemente, CA with her surfer husband.

  Available Now

  Tempt Me, Cowboy – Megan Crane

  Buy now | Find out more

  Marry Me, Cowboy – Lilian Darcy

  Buy now | Find out more

  Promise Me, Cowboy – CJ Carmichael

  Buy now | Find out more

  Take Me, Cowboy – Jane Porter

  Buy now | Find out more

  For all the latest news and fun from Montana Born Books, visit our website: MontanaBornBooks.com!

  bsp;