The Christmas Room

by Catherine Anderson

  “Wow,” she said softly. “Did I imagine that, or did it really happen?”

  “I’m not sure. But we’re not going to try it again to find out.” He gestured at the ribbon of pavement just behind her. “Not here, anyway. Down in the trees, maybe, where we won’t be seen. I don’t want your dad to find out about this and get all bent out of shape before we can get to know each other better.”

  She nodded and pushed her hair back from her face. “Right.” Her lips curved in a shaky grin. Her dimple flashed at him again. “That’s never happened to me. It felt like spontaneous combustion.”

  “That’s as good a description as any, I guess. It’s never happened to me, either.”

  She glanced at her watch, which rode a simple leather band. He noticed that her hand shook slightly. “No hiding in the trees for us today. My time off is over.”

  “What time should we meet tomorrow?” he said. “At noon?”

  “Fifteen after. It’ll take me a few minutes to walk over.”

  “I’ll head downriver to meet you and help carry the cooler. Why waste the time alone when we can be together?”

  • • •

  Over the next two weeks, as August gave way to September and September crept toward October, Cam and Kirstin met along the river nearly every day. Cam discovered that she didn’t always get days off, which he felt was over-the-top. Kirstin explained that her father didn’t force her to work so much.

  “It’s a matter of necessity. Dad and Miguel are dividing their time right now between haying on the ranch and rounding up cattle from our grazing lands.” She smiled up at him. “When I say our grazing lands, I mean Dad owns them. Back in the late sixties, he saw the writing on the wall and knew there would be more and more restrictions placed on public lands, so he scrimped and saved to buy parcels of land. He didn’t care if some or nearly all of the property was mountainous. All he needed was a good road in, plenty of grass, and a bountiful water source. When I say he’s land poor, I mean he’s really land poor. But he has plenty of property to summer his cows on while he farms the fields here. At the end of haying season, he takes the excess cattle to auction and keeps his base herd here.”

  They circled a fallen log. “Wow. Instead of counting on public land, he bought his own? That must have cost him a bundle.”

  “Yes, but he did it over a thirty-year period of time. Even longer than that, actually. My mother called him a visionary, and I think she had it right. Dad bought his first parcel back in seventy-one, and he picked up the last piece in two thousand fifteen. I think he stretched his financial limits on that one, but it’s a gorgeous acreage on the east side of the valley. The last of the cattle he needs to round up are grazing there.” She walked around a large chunk of driftwood and met him on the other side. “My mom shared his vision, thank goodness, and didn’t mind when he saved his profit each year to buy more land. It meant she didn’t get diamonds on her birthday, or that her kitchen didn’t get remodeled, and she waited a lot of years for her beautiful house to be built. But she supported him as he built an inheritance for me.

  “When a ranch came on the market and it matched his criteria, he grabbed it. He didn’t care if there was a nice house. He picked up large parcels that were other people’s mistakes. They couldn’t farm the land to feed their animals over the winter, so they went bust, and Dad got the properties for a great price. He picked areas where he knew the land might sell for a song, purchased one piece, and then waited for others to come up for sale, allowing him, in some areas, to collect contiguous acreages. He’s a favorite with agencies that are trying to preserve the open land of Montana, because in areas where he can, he legally adjoins the parcels and places a conservation easement on them so they can never be sold separately or subdivided.”

  “That may make them hard to sell.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but he may never want to sell them. When the ranch passes down to me, I probably won’t, either. Owning them protects us. Weather providing, we can run cattle for as long as we want to, and if public grazing land is decreased or snatched away, it shouldn’t affect us. I will feel bad for ranchers who are impacted by grazing-land cutbacks, though. Their way of life is being attacked.” She kicked a rock and winked at him. “Just like that. I can’t say whether grazing allotments are actually destroying our public lands. All I know is that the activists might be wise to consider becoming vegans, and even then, they’d better stop depriving farmers of irrigation water across the country, because they’ll have nothing much to eat.”

  Cam laughed. An eagle soared up from a tree and then dived toward the ground. “Somebody just caught his lunch. As for the effect of grazing on public lands, I can’t cast a vote without doing an extensive study. That’s no longer my field, though. Don’t laugh. I have a degree in game biology, and now I sell real estate.”

  She smiled. “Sounds familiar. I got a degree in business management and don’t use it.”

  He slanted her an inquiring look. “You’re totally into raising cattle, aren’t you?”

  “It’s in my blood. As a little girl, I’d sit on Dad’s knee while he ran the numbers on a piece of land he was considering. When I was six, I already knew how to calculate cows per acre. I’d go with him to walk a parcel. I’d get really excited over grass and sources of water, or if there was a nice house my father could lease out.” Her cheeks went rosy. “Sorry. Most women get excited about jewelry. I’m turned on by grazing land. Now my father has his operation covered with land of his own. A lot of it. He leases some of it out, but mostly he uses it himself and rents out the houses. People who enjoy having horses and a few cows, but can’t afford a large ranch, are delighted to have him for a landlord, and in exchange for low rent, they’re happy to do fence repairs if he pays for the materials. It’s all land that Mother Nature waters and his cows keep mowed in the summer.”

  Cam whistled. “Holy hell. How many acres does he have?”

  “I’m not sure. I’d have to do a spreadsheet.” She tapped her temple. “Dad has it all up here.”

  “And with all that wealth, his daughter rarely gets a day off.”

  “You’ve got it. What’s said about my dad in town is true. He’s ornery and impossible. The one flaw in his youthful dream was failing to anticipate that he’d grow so mean after Mom died that men wouldn’t want to work for him. So now he has four hundred pair on mountainous and rough terrain with no hired hands to help gather them. Last spring he sold his double-deck stock trailer. He didn’t tell me why. I think he ran short on money. His remaining stock trailer carries twenty head, maximum. He’s already collected cattle off the properties that are farther away. But losing those four hundred pair, around eight hundred head in total, and the bulls left there to propagate that herd, will possibly put him in the red.” She lifted her hands. “So I work seven days a week. That’s ranching for you. It’s not for sissies. Someday I hope to have a full crew on the payroll again. I think I can keep workers happier than Dad presently can.”

  “But, for right now, you’re flat out because your inheritance is at risk.”

  “It’s not quite as dire as that.” She shrugged. “That’s where the grazing land will probably save us. Dad can use it as collateral to get a loan to keep us afloat, and hopefully next year will be better. But it’s never good when a ranch goes in the hole. If next year isn’t better, and you just never know, we’ll go deeper into debt if we borrow against the assets again.”

  “He needs to hire some temps.”

  She laughed, her eyes twinkling up at him as they walked. “Cowboys, you mean? Trust me, he’s tried. But there are a lot of jobs in this valley for good hands, and they’d rather work for less money than put up with my dad’s foul temper. The seasoned guys don’t apply, and the bad ones aren’t worth hiring.”

  Cam’s entire picture of ranching had changed from the pastoral images of peace and tranquillity that floated through
most people’s minds to the trials of reality.

  • • •

  Another afternoon they played question and answer. What is your favorite band? What’s your favorite color? Your absolute favorite food? What’s your favorite love song of all time? The questions they came up with were many, and they spent a lot of time laughing over each other’s answers.

  “Really?” Cam asked. “Your favorite song is ‘The Way We Were’?”

  “Well, yours is ‘Those Were the Days.’ How is that any better?”

  “It’s just that ‘The Way We Were’ was a hit way back in seventy-four, following the release of the Streisand-Redford film. You weren’t even born yet.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you’re older than you say you are, you weren’t either.”

  “No, I wasn’t. But I grew up listening to my parents’ all-time favorites playing on the stereo, which familiarized me with the music of their generation. Somehow I can’t picture Samuel Conacher listening to old love songs.”

  “Oh, but he enjoyed romantic music before Mom died, and I was twenty by then, so I remember all the songs they played.”

  “Do you like old hits more than you do the contemporary ones?”

  “Some of the old ones just speak to me. ‘The Way We Were’ has beautiful lyrics with wistful undertones. And I can picture different scenarios involving two people who once loved each other and broke up. How much they might regret their mistakes. How much they might wish they could go back in time and do it differently. You know?”

  He guided her around a fallen log, his much larger hand locked around hers. “That’s why I like ‘Those Were the Days,’” he told her. “I picture a group of young friends who have no idea what awaits them in the future. They feel invincible. The reason the song speaks to me is because it feels timeless and the same scenario is probably still playing out at university nightspots all over the country.”

  “It’s kind of sad, though, isn’t it?” She leaned her head against his arm. “When they were young, everything seemed possible, and later they faced the hard knocks of life.”

  Kirstin straightened and studied the expressions that flitted over his chiseled features. She was already falling in love with him. Maybe it was impulsive and far too soon, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. It wasn’t only that he was handsome and fun to be with, but also that he felt things as deeply as she did and wasn’t embarrassed to reveal it.

  “In the end, Kirstin, all of us end up facing hard knocks. For me, the most important thing is finding someone I can make the journey with who’ll always stand beside me, no matter what.”

  She nodded. “I want to find someone who will also remind me to laugh. My mom’s gift to our family was her ability to look at a complete disaster and find something to laugh about. She used to say, ‘Sam, if we don’t laugh, we’re going to cry.’ And she was right. So most of the time she’d get Dad to laugh with her. And pretty soon they felt better.”

  “Laughter is good medicine,” he agreed. “They say people who pray together stay together, but I think laughing together is almost as important.”

  He looped his arms around her and drew her close against his chest. She had come to cherish these moments when the heat and strength of him surrounded her. She yearned for him to make love to her soon. Only that could never happen out here in a public-use area.

  His thumbs trailed lightly over her cheeks, igniting the nerve endings just under her skin. Kirstin went up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. “Kiss me, Cam.”

  He angled his mouth over hers and delved deeply with his tongue. She savored the taste of him and wished they could find a grassy spot in the forest to spend the entire day together. When he ended the kiss, she whispered, “I’m falling in love with you, Cameron McLendon.”

  “Don’t go into overdrive, honey. We’ve only just begun.”

  She drew back and stared up at him. “Oh, my God, the Carpenters? Don’t deny it, Cam. You’re a romantic-song junkie.”

  “I guess maybe I am. And if you know that song, so are you.”

  • • •

  Another afternoon Kirstin noticed that Cam seemed pensive as they walked along the path that led through the trees. The rush of the river came from their right. Sunlight beamed down through the evergreen boughs from directly overhead. The air felt cooler than it had yesterday, making her wonder how long it might be before the first snow. She hoped the white stuff would be a long while in coming. It would be hard on Cam and his family to endure the winter cold, and if her father couldn’t get all the cattle home, the ranch would take a huge financial hit. But she knew from experience that Mother Nature seldom changed her schedule for anyone or anything.

  “Is something troubling you, Cam?”

  He smiled. “Yes, sort of. My mom hasn’t been herself the last couple of days. It’s been happening a couple of times a month—nothing I can put my finger on, but she sleeps more and her color isn’t good. She doesn’t eat much, either. I can’t tell if she’s sick or just having bad days, like she says.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Kirstin hadn’t met the woman yet, but judging by things Cam had told her, his mother was a wonderful lady. “Can you get her in to see a doctor?”

  “She says she just saw one and got a clean bill of health.”

  “Would she lie about that?”

  He frowned. “My mom doesn’t normally lie, but I have seen her be evasive.” He flexed his shoulders. “Enough of that. I’m shaking it off.” He grabbed her hand. “It’s a beautiful day, so let’s enjoy it.”

  Before they returned to their picnic cooler to have lunch, they saw the nest of a bald eagle at the top of a dead snag. Kirstin had never been with someone who was as reverent about wildlife as she was. Now she had Cam to marvel with her over the beauty of nature.

  “I’d love to climb up and have a look,” he told her, “but sometimes they reuse their nests.”

  Kirstin squeezed his fingers. “I’ve noticed that. We wouldn’t want to ruin it.” Her neck started to ache from leaning her head so far back. “Do you realize that I’ve never known anybody who’s as much fun as you are on a walk? We’ve visited here how many times now? And every single time, I’ve enjoyed myself.”

  “Me, too. You’re a cheap date.”

  She laughed and elbowed him in the ribs. As they cut through the trees toward their lunch spot, he said, “We’ve met here a lot. Not counting the day we met, how many hours have we been together so far?”

  “You’re wanting to calculate the hours?”

  “Sorry. I need to measure time against my emotions. Always before, I’ve been able to depend on my common sense to guide me, but with you, I’m not sure I’ve got any.”

  “What a sweet compliment.” She leaned forward to peer up at him. “Really, Cam? Your good sense flies out the window when you’re with me?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “It’s not a good thing, Kirstin. I made one serious mistake in the past, and maybe that’s made me way too careful. But I think we’ll both be better off if we keep our heads firmly attached to our shoulders.”

  Kirstin wanted no part of that. For once in her life she wanted to be silly and reckless. She jerked her hand away from his, spun off a rock into a run, and cried over her shoulder, “Race you!”

  She thought she had a lead on him, but he was upon her in seconds and grabbed her around the waist. Even as she shrieked and laughed, he turned her in his arms and started to kiss her. Then he stiffened before their lips met.

  “We’re right out in the open.”

  “Dad is riding the grazing land today with Miguel.”

  “You think. Things happen. He may have come back for some reason.”

  Cam had left their lunch in a more private place at the edge of the trees. Grasping her hand, he led her there. After digging all their food from the cooler, they set
tled down to eat. He had consumed half his sandwich when he said, “I know you’ve dated several guys. Has none of them had the courage to approach your father and ask his permission to see you?”

  Kirstin’s pulse skittered. “Don’t even think about it, Cam. My father won’t see it as you doing the honorable thing. He’ll go straight into attack mode. Please wait until you’re certain I’m worth the risk.”

  She hoped he might say he was already certain, but of course, he didn’t. Cam was a careful, thoughtful man who wanted to be sure they were right for each other. With someone else, Kirstin might have resented that, but with Cam, she understood. As much as he loved his son, that didn’t negate the fact that he’d paid dearly for years for that one mistake in his late teens. She also felt flattered. His cautious forward momentum told her that he took their relationship seriously.

  Kirstin caught a flash of movement off in the woods, and she fixed her gaze on something large and such a dark brown that it was nearly black. She stared as it moved toward them and its outline took on a distinct shape. Her heart started to pound. “Cam,” she said softly.

  “You do understand that I’m uncomfortable with all this sneaking around,” he said.

  “Cam,” she said with more urgency while not raising her voice. “There’s a bull moose coming in our direction.”

  He followed her gaze with his own. “Wow. I’ve seen them along the roads while driving, but never up close like this.”

  “Keep your voice down!” she said in a stage whisper. “Seeing it up close is not good. Look around you for the biggest tree, and run for it. I’ll go the opposite direction. Moose are stupid. We might gain a few precious seconds if we confuse it.”

  Cam finally seemed to register that she was frightened. “You’re going to climb a tree? Is it really that dangerous? I’ve never studied moose.”