Holiday Magic

by Fern Michaels

  “I wrote in my Grateful Journal that I’m grateful my husband is going out of town for a week so I can get a break,” Katie said. “He bought me a Mrs. Claus outfit with a red thong and short, ruffled skirt with white fur trim. The satin shirt has a V neck plunging to my waist and no back.”

  I brought a beer to my lips. “I hardly know what to say, Katie.”

  I noticed that the Christmas tree in Barry Lynn’s bar now had many presents underneath it. Of course the sign, IF YOU DON’T GIVE TO MY TOY DRIVE YOU’LL BE SUSPENDED FROM MY BAR, helped, too.

  “In my Grateful Journal I wrote down that when I’m herding cattle through a snowstorm I’m grateful that I’ve never gotten lost. God gave me a GPS system in my head.” Vicki tapped her head.

  “I’m grateful that God gave us math, and I finally received my new calculus textbook. I can’t wait to start working on it! I’m saving it for Friday night,” Hannah said. She pushed her brown curls back with both hands, she was so excited. “I’m sure my students will be thrilled, too. I get positively orgasmic off of math, equations, quantum physics…”

  There was a dead silence. “I don’t understand you sometimes, Hannah,” Katie said, confused.

  “What did you write in your Grateful Journal, Meredith?” Vicki asked.

  “I wrote I’m grateful that…” What I was grateful for was that I had not flung myself into Logan’s arms yet, stripped off his shirt, buttons flying, yanked off his belt, pulled off his pants, and jumped him. I could, so easily, take the pleasure for as long as it lasted and live off those memories the rest of my life. “I wrote that I’m grateful for you three.” That was true; you have to be grateful for your girlfriends.

  Vicki sniffled. Hannah held my hand.

  “That’s so sweet,” Katie said, tearing up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you three. All day long, with four noisy kids, then Mr. Creative Love Life comes home and my second shift begins, and I usually have part of a Bible study to finish…. Do other women like wearing vampire masks with their husbands to bed? Those plastic teeth are so uncomfortable.”

  Jacob had a day off school and he played his own haunting, emotional songs in the parlor while Martha, Mary, and I served breakfast to the overnight guests, no cranky ones, none too odd, and the regular crew of people from town who were in and out all morning.

  It was when I was pouring coffee for the professors and their professor friend from Nigeria, Chinaza, that I heard him talk about how he loves to play the drums.

  “Have you played for long?” I asked.

  “Oh yes, since I was child. In our village, we all play drums.”

  “Does your family live in Nigeria still?” I asked.

  His face fell. “Some. Too many gone. My aunt, though, she live in France, my father and his wife in Germany. I here.”

  We fell silent for a moment, and I was struck, as I often am, by others’ pain. But then I had an idea. “Would you like to play the drums for the Telena Christmas Concerts?”

  I could tell by his huge smile that his answer would be yes.

  “I bring my village in Nigeria to here, to Montana, to my new friends, my new home.” He patted my hand. “Yes, I play the drums for you. Thank you. Now I can give a gift.”

  I didn’t spare the professors. “I hear you play the xylophone, Stan.”

  “Yep, I do. My grandfather taught me.”

  “Good. I’m signing you up to play in Telena’s Christmas Concerts.”

  “Me? In a Christmas concert?”

  “Yes, you. Start practicing. And, Terry, you have a low, deep voice. You’re going to be my narrator.”

  Terry, with the low, deep voice looked so surprised, and so pleased. “Are you sure? The narrator! I’ve always wanted to be the narrator! Whoa ho! Thanks, Meredith!”

  “No problem. Rehearsals start immediately.”

  Buoyed by my new drummer and company, I headed back to the kitchen. But I was stopped by Charlie, one of the Old Timers, who said, “By golly, if I were to die today and meet my maker and hear the choirs of angels singing, I would be happy, Meredith, because I’ve had your Kick Butt Crab Cocktail and it is scrumptious! Scrumptious.”

  I eyed the Old Timers.

  They eyed me back. Davis counted off, one, two, three, and they all yelled, “Merry Meredith!”

  “Very funny. Gentlemen, do you sing Christmas songs?”

  I later peered out the window, up and down the snowy street. Who else had talent in this town who I could throw up on stage for this Christmas extravaganza? My high school friend, Marty Shan, had a dance studio, and everyone likes seeing little kids in costumes…. I would ask my artist friends, Claudia and Tim, if they could paint something holidayish, maybe we could transfer their work up to a screen during the concert…. The choirs from different churches, schools…Ranna May for sure…

  “Do you think it’s normal to crave avocados in your cereal when you’re pregnant?” Mary asked. “Because I do. Do we have any avocados?”

  “Good evening.”

  Logan. Right behind me.

  I kept my eyes on the towering Christmas tree in the middle of the town square that would soon be lit with hundreds of colored lights. My body felt like melting into a warm puddle of caramel.

  Currently, a group of kindergarteners on bleachers in front of the tree were singing Christmas songs for a large crowd of people. One of them was picking her nose with her middle finger and studying the contents so it looked like she was flipping the audience the bird; another was turned completely around wriggling his butt in time to the music; a third, Katie’s daughter, kept exuberantly raising her red velvet dress up over her head, then down again, after displaying her underwear.

  Her mother, Katie, stood beside me, “Oh gracious God, oh gracious God,” she kept muttering. “Do something!” she hissed to her husband. He was a kind and dear man and tried to signal their daughter to stop flashing the audience.

  It backfired. She brought the skirt way, way up and waved the skirt at her parents. “Lord Almighty,” Katie breathed. “And she had to wear her brother’s Spiderman underwear, didn’t she?”

  “Hello, Logan.” My voice sounded squeaky. I tried to breathe, couldn’t, then decided to pretend to be composed. “Logan.”

  “Meredith,” he said. He was way too close, making me feel small compared to that giant chest. “Nice to see you again.”

  “You, too.” Darn that squeak! But how could I talk when I was now envisioning Logan fly fishing next to me, with wedding cakes on silver platters gently sailing down the river around us? I shook my head. Wedding cakes! Where had that come from?

  “Where are Sarah and Jacob?”

  “They’re at home. I invited them but…”

  “They didn’t want to come?”

  I shook my head. No, Sarah didn’t want to come because, she said, “The girls don’t like me. Larissa drew a picture of me with all this black makeup over my eyes. Everybody laughed. She called me raccoon-hooker face.” She’d pretended she didn’t care, but she ran up the stairs lightning quick and slammed her door.

  “Jacob, do you want to go to the tree lighting tonight?” I’d asked.

  He’d pounded out Bach on the piano then said, “No. Did my mom call today?”

  When I said no, he went back to a ferocious pounding of Bach, but I saw the tears.

  Telena was in high Christmas gear. The main street of town had been decorated with garlands, with huge displays of red and green lights arching over the entire street. Trees were wrapped in white lights, and each lamppost was decorated with a huge wreath.

  Logan suddenly laughed, and I knew he had spotted the girl who was flipping everyone the bird.

  “How about dinner afterward?” he said.

  “No.” I felt that tension instantly between us.

  “Why not?”

  Why not? Because I was feeling way too much for this man, way too soon, and the situation was an impossible heartache speeding toward me that I needed to avoid. “I…
uh…I need to get home…to wrap presents.”

  “To wrap presents,” he said, long and low. “Ah. Well, with Christmas weeks away, it’s a good idea to get right on it.”

  “Yes. It is.”

  “How about dinner, then I’ll help you wrap the presents up?”

  “No.” I turned so I was facing him. I tried to speak quietly because the Three Wise Women, Katie, Hannah, and Vicki, were nosily eavesdropping. “Logan, I don’t date…. I told you that…. I’m not in the…mood.”

  “All right, if you don’t want to call it a date, let’s call it dinner.”

  “That’s not going to work—”

  “So would everyone please welcome…” Norm, standing on stage, dramatically drew his words right on out, “our next director of the Telena Christmas Concert Series, Merry Meredith Ghirlandaio!”

  Whew. For the first time in my life, I was glad my name was being announced over a loudspeaker. I scooted on stage, everyone clapping and shouting and cheering, and stood right in front of Katie’s daughter. I subtly waved my hand down, and she dropped her dress to her knees, covering Spiderman. I knew Katie would thank me forever.

  “Hello everyone, this year’s concert is going to be spectacular. We have a few changes, but I think…”

  I went on with my spiel, smiling, and at the end was given a red cowgirl hat with a Santa Claus on the brim from the mayor. “She knows how to wear ’em, doesn’t she folks? Coolest cowgirl hats in Montana. We all know that, well, maybe not everyone. We have a new man in town, many of you know him, from Copper, Logan Taylor. Welcome to Logan! We’re glad you’re here! Folks, he was the one who saved Meredith at Barry Lynn’s. A real gentleman.”

  I wanted to dissolve, disappear, hide.

  Logan grinned at me as people slapped him on the shoulder, clapped, cheered.

  The Christmas tree lit up, everyone oohed and aahed, and we were into, officially, the Christmas season.

  And soon I was, unofficially, on a dinner date with Logan. I don’t even know how he got me into the restaurant. The man’s so persuasive I don’t know why he bothers to use a fly when he fishes. I’ll bet he can just as easily ask the fishies to jump up on shore, and they’d do it….

  “So you’ve never been married before, Meredith?”

  I dropped the bell-shaped Christmas cookie to my plate and tried, once again, not to envision Logan kissing me outside his huge, decorated gingerbread house. Argh. I am so weird.

  “No, I’ve never been married. I’m surprised no one told you that; you seem to know everything else. I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew the circumference of my head, my grades in high school, and my favorite rock star.”

  He smiled in the dim light, the candles at our table flickering. “Okay. I was told you hadn’t been married, but I was confirming it.”

  I picked up my coffee and tucked my white streak behind my ear. I love when coffee is served, as I do at my B and B, in thick white ceramic cups, and I love adding cream from cold silver pitchers. “Consider the fact confirmed. I’m still trying to figure out why I’m here, out at a restaurant with you, eating all sorts of delicate appetizers and miniature lemon meringue pies. You’re smooth, Logan. How come I’m letting you push me around?”

  “I’m not pushing you around. I simply convinced you that a dinner tonight would be a good start to the Christmas season. Ho ho ho.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Have you ever wanted to get married?”

  “No.” I dragged my thoughts away from him and being married to him, waking up each morning, making strawberry crepes together, kissing, fly fishing dates, fires outside a tent while camping, kissing, canoeing, hugging, laughing, horseback riding, hanging out with the kids for movie nights, making love, kissing more…and then the pain came. Hard, fast, like it was splitting me in two, followed by the anger because I couldn’t go there, because the choice to go there had been taken from me.

  “No? Why not?”

  “Because I’m good on my own. I’m too independent. I can drive a tractor, bale hay, break a horse, and shoot a gun. I run my own business, I have two kids with various problems, and directing this concert may drive me to drink copious amounts of scotch, but no, I do not need to throw a husband into that melting pot of terror.” Yep. I am good on my own. Except for when I think the loneliness is going to kill me; then I’m not so good. Not so good, either, in the darkness of the night when my worries attack and there is no hand to hold.

  “You are good on your own,” Logan said.

  Why did candlelight have to highlight all the sexy grooves of Logan’s face?

  “You’re one heckuva woman, Meredith. Very capable and strong and smart. You remind me of a stallion, the Rocky Mountains, and lightning bolts. And pink cake.”

  “Pink cake?” That was one of my favorites. I resisted the urge to tap the heels of my cowboy boots together.

  “Yes, it’s my favorite. It’s delicious, unforgettable, sweet, feminine…you.”

  “You’re a flirt.” I tried to sound stern as I attempted to take a sip of coffee. My hands shook. I put it down. There was a cookie shaped like holly. Maybe I’d eat it.

  He laughed. “Meredith, if you knew me, even a little bit, you would know how wrong you are.”

  “You’re not a flirt?”

  He stared right at me. “No. I’m not. I have no idea how to flirt; I don’t even try. If relating you to a cake sounded flirty, it wasn’t my intention. I’m telling you the truth, cowboy girl.”

  “Something tells me that you have not needed to flirt in order to meet women in the past.”

  “Most of what I’ve done for the vast majority of my life is work. I don’t flirt. Except with you. I’m trying to flirt.”

  I blushed. “You are?”

  “Yep. Is it working?”

  “Well…uh…when…yes…no…no, yes…” His flirting was flustering me.

  “I’m not doing a very good job of flirting. You don’t even know I’m doing it.”

  I used to be a tough woman! What happened to me? I could handle Logan! “Let me know next time before you start flirting. Put up a banner or something so I’m not caught off guard.”

  He grabbed a crayon sitting in a cup and then wrote on the paper tablecloth, “Meredith, I’m flirting with you.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

  He tried to draw a flower; the flower looked like it had been strangled by a black spider. “Nice flower. It looks like it was strangled by a black spider.”

  He drew black legs coming out from a black spot, then gave up. “I tried. So, no husband for you. Ever?”

  “No. Yes. No. No husband.” I sighed inwardly at my fumbling words. “What about you?”

  “I have no desire for a husband.”

  We smiled into each other’s eyes. “I didn’t think that would be an issue.”

  I tried not to shiver, but I shivered anyhow. The man gave me the shivers. In a good way, and a sad, mind-shattering way, because I knew I would not let this relationship go anywhere. Not past tonight. Tonight would be it.

  “Have you been married?” I asked. “Kids?” Already I did not like his ex-wife. Jealousy struck like a mad green elf.

  “No, I’ve never been married. As for kids, I can assure you that if I had them, they would be with me now. Unfortunately, I don’t have any children.”

  I was touched by the look on his face. He seemed genuinely, deeply saddened. “Do you want kids?”

  He nodded. “I do. No question. Five is a good number. I want a family.”

  “So you’re shopping for a wife.” I wanted to challenge the Unknown Future Wife to a kickboxing match in which I would personally have her down on the floor in seconds begging for mercy.

  “I wouldn’t call it shopping, I hate shopping. Can’t stand it. To me, hell would be a shopping mall where I’d have to endlessly try on clothes and buy stuff.”

  I pretended an interest in my coffee and Christmas cookies. Next to the bell were a reindeer, a
wreath, and a Mrs. Claus.

  “Why do you want to get married?” I hated that Future Wife!

  “I want to live forever with my best friend.”

  “Well, that’s very touching.” I tried not to let my sarcasm ooze. “If I lived with my best friends I would be living with Vicki, Hannah, and Katie. Vicki would have us all roping calves, Hannah would have us at math parties, and Katie would wander around in bedroom costumes.”

  He laughed. “You’re pretty darn funny, Meredith.”

  “Answer the question, he-man.”

  “I want to get married because I think that I can build a happy life with someone I love more than my own life. I want someone to talk to, laugh with, dream with, have children, and build a family, complete with grandkids. I want to ride horses with her on our ranch.”

  He grinned and I felt this wave of black sorrow swirl around me.

  “I want to have dinner on the deck, breakfast with hot coffee together. I can make an outstanding cup of coffee by the way, Meredith. I want to travel the world so we can have experiences together. I don’t want to be alone my whole life. Do you?”

  No, I did not. But I also didn’t want to live anywhere near Logan and the Unknown Future Wife who I would kickbox and intensely dislike all the way down to my molars. “I don’t feel alone. I’m close to my parents, I’m close to Jacob and Sarah, although Sarah thinks I’m an idiot, and I have friends. A man would add stress and mood swings.”

  “You don’t even like to talk about marriage, do you?” he asked.

  Not when it concerns you. “No. I’d rather dental floss a shark.”

  He laughed again, rich and seductive, but I knew that he didn’t know he was rich and seductive. “Why?”

  “Because it’s not something that I’m going to do. I don’t think I’d be happy married. It’s too complicated, difficult…My life is too complicated, difficult. A mess.” Oh, what a mess.

  “Life is complicated. It’s a mess. It’s difficult sometimes, tragic, heartbreaking, but even with all of that, I would rather go through the complications, the mess, the tragedy, with someone I loved, someone I could count on. Someone I could grab and hike to the top of a hill and have a picnic, even if we were both crying over something that had happened. One thing I am not is naïve, honey. I know marriage isn’t perfect at all. I get it.”