More Than a Miracle

by Raine Cantrell

  Her breath caught on a startled cry when she heard her wish whispered aloud by Gabe. His husky voice sent a shiver of awareness through her.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Guess you were lost in thought. Can’t blame you. I haven’t made wishes on those stars since I was a boy living up here. There were times when I couldn’t wait to grow tall and climb the mountaintop so I could reach out and pull one of those stars down for my own.”

  “Oh, I’ve felt the same. They seem so close to us up here. I never tire of looking at them on a clear night like this.”

  “But it’s getting colder,” he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Chris is already inside claiming he’s hungry as a bear. Time we went inside, too.”

  Once he had helped Maureen with her coat and hung up his own, he took a deep appreciative breath. “This is close to what heaven must smell like. I can taste those fritters you made topped with sugar and cinnamon.”

  “You’re not smelling them, Pa, you’re seeing them.”

  “Right you are, Chris.” Gabe tousled his son’s hair and took his place next to him on the bench. As with each meal, Maureen said grace before passing the platter of thick ham slices and cutting the loaf of corn bread.

  Gabe poured cups of milk for the children. Both he and Maureen reached for the butter crock.

  “You first,” she offered.

  “No. Ladies first, always.”

  Their gazes locked and for a moment or two they stared at each other. Kathleen rolled her eyes at Chris, then pushed the crock toward him.

  “Oh, no, Kathleen. You heard Pa, lady goes first.”

  Hearing themselves mimicked, brought smiles then soft laughter and only seconds later they repeated it over the platter of fritters. There was more teasing as they took their time at the table, for these winter nights were for storytelling and Gabe had a store of them.

  There were sleepy protests from both Chris and Kathleen when he ended his last one and helped them up the ladder to the loft. He was climbing back down when Maureen came around the corner holding a lit candle. The red glints of her hair against the smooth skin of her cheek drew his gaze. With each passing day he felt the stirring of desire and now, for the first time, he sensed the feeling was returned.

  The space was narrow and there was no way to pass without touching each other unless she backed up or he climbed higher. He felt the need in him to touch her, and wondered if his hands would tremble if he did. The light, flowery scent of her only increased the need.

  Her eyes were troubled when she looked up at him.

  He saw the rapid flutter of the pulse at the base of her throat, and even a faint flush on her cheeks. He heard the small catch in her breath and found his own was uneven. When she stepped back, he wasn’t fooled. She was as wary of him in this small space as he was of her.

  “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Maureen.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.” Only of myself and what you make me feel.

  “I’d never hurt a woman or be where I’m not wanted.”

  “But you know you’re wanted here,” she said with an impish smile as she took his words to heart. He wouldn’t hurt her, nor would he force her into any decisions until she was ready to make them.

  “Go on to bed, Maureen. I want to take a look around outside before I bed down.”

  “Has Chris told you yet why he was running away?”

  “He told me.”

  She saw pain and denial in his eyes and touched his arm. Her move brought the candle closer to his face.

  “Was your boy unfair?”

  “No. He told the truth as he saw it. I was busy, too busy building wealth to leave to him so he’d be free to do whatever he loved.”

  “He loved you best, I think,” she said softly, then smiled. “He has a great deal of courage. All he wanted is you. And he said he had dream of coming here. I guess you told him about the place often enough. He never once faltered in his directions. Uncanny how we all came to be here.”

  “Maybe it was meant to be,” he said with a smile of his own.

  She shied from committing herself in any way. “Maybe.”

  “Sweet dreams, Maureen.”

  He pressed flat against the ladder to allow her passage and watched her disappear into the back room. But it was a long while before he found sleep. He had heard two Christmas wishes whispered in his ear tonight from Chris and Kathleen. They were not exactly presents he could put beneath a tree or hang on the branches. He was not even sure he could make their wish come true.

  Chapter Eight

  Gabe ran his fingertips over the wood roof of the dollhouse he and Chris were building for Kathleen. He had found most of his father’s old tools stored up in the barn loft and wondered why they had been left behind. Not that he wasn’t thankful. The time he was spending with Chris helped him understand his son. They shared laughter and quiet talks.

  “Kathleen’s gonna love this, Pa. She’s been wanting one for a long time. Guess with them moving around so much there wasn’t room for her to have one. Four rooms, too. Only she ain’t got nothing to put inside.”

  “We could make some furniture, Chris. Think she’d like that?”

  “Guess she would. Women set a store by having things don’t they?”

  “Some more than others. And son, some women set a store by having gold to buy more than they will ever need.”

  “Maureen’s not like that. She thinks this place is as close to heaven as a body can get. You know she’s happy ’cause she hums and sings all the time she’s working.”

  Gabe ran the plane over the edge of the roof, then followed with his fingertips to be sure it was smooth.

  “Pa, how come you never worked with wood at home?”

  “Wasn’t a need to.”

  Chris stood back to admire the house, but shook his head when his father glanced at him. “Don’t understand that, Pa. You’re as happy as Maureen when she bakes up a batch of cookies and knows me and Kathleen are gonna snap them up quick as can be. Don’t seem right a man should have pleasure in a thing and then not do it.”

  “And just when did you get to be so wise?”

  “Maureen figures all that time I wasn’t talking much I looked and listened and was just storing things away. Being quiet, she said, gave me lots of time for thinking.”

  “She must be right. It can’t be anything I taught you. But I promise you, Chris, that won’t ever happen again.”

  Gabe held his son’s gaze with his own. “I love you, son. You’re more important to me than anything else in the world. I don’t ever want you to think you need to run off. You come tell me when something’s bothering you. And I want your promise about that.”

  “All right, Pa.”

  A wide grin split Chris’s face and Gabe’s matched it.

  “You know Pa, Maureen would sure like an angel for the tree. Said when she was little they went to some fancy lady’s house and they had candles on their tree with pretty ribbons. And right on top was an angel.”

  “Chris, you’re talking about carving skill and I don’t think I—”

  “You could try, Pa. You could. I know—”

  “All right. All right. I’ll try. Anything else?”

  “Well, you got to think about the wishes me and Kathleen told you.”

  “Chris, you start trimming off that round from the log for a tabletop. And those wishes, well, son, to tell you the truth, it’s not an easy thing to happen. Folks either have feelings for each other or they don’t It isn’t something that can be forced, Chris. You understand that? Maureen’s a woman with her thoughts and feelings. Her own wishes for what she wants her life to be like, too.”

  “But you’re a fine man, Pa. I heard Mrs. Kingsley say many a time what a fine catch you’d make for some woman. Only you ran awfully fast. Didn’t you ever—”

  “Chris—”

  “No. You said you’d listen to me. Som
etimes, Pa, I’d get so lonely I wanted to cry. And sometimes I’d see a look in your eyes like you was lonely like me. I just figured you like Maureen a lot. You’re smiling more. Never seen you smile as much as you do here.”

  “Oh, Chris, you make it all sound so easy. But, son, grown people need love before they promise to share their lives together.”

  “Did you love my ma?”

  “I thought I did. I wouldn’t have married her if I didn’t believe that. But she was looking for riches and I was too quiet for her. So she wanted to take off for back east, and I paid her way. Gave her a good settlement, too, when I divorced her.”

  Gabe caught hold of his son and hugged him. “You were what I wanted to keep.”

  “And I want to keep hold of Maureen and Kathleen. Can’t do that without you, Pa.”

  Gabe didn’t answer. He couldn’t. But he wondered if Kathleen had schemed with Chris to bring this about. How did Maureen feel?

  Maureen at that moment was holding her daughter close and thinking about what she said. How could this child know of a woman’s loneliness? But that’s what Kathleen said she saw in her mother’s eyes. She knew her child missed having a father and a home after all these years spent moving from one place to another. She tried to explain that a woman should marry for love, for the need to share life with that one special man, but all Kathleen said was that Gabe was a fine man and that she loved him a little. And she never wanted to be without Chris, for she thought of him as her little brother.

  To her daughter it was all so simple. Maureen wished it was. Now, she wondered if she hadn’t made a terrible mistake by insisting that Gabe and Chris stay on.

  It didn’t take great wisdom to understand what Chris and Kathleen were scheming.

  The thing was, she did not know if she should talk to Gabe about it.

  Waiting a little might help her reach a decision.

  But waiting, when two determined children were around, proved a sore trial for Maureen and Gabe.

  Christmas day grew closer and there was much to be done, and much of it with whispers broken off, or warnings not to go there or peek somewhere else. They had spent a day in the woods scouting out the perfect tree, but Gabe shared his worry about the lack of snow.

  “Seen one year like this. Had some light snowfalls and then nothing. When the next one came in, we could barely keep a path shoveled to get to the barn.”

  Maureen with her daughter’s help spent every free moment in her room. She had a finely tanned hide that she cut into game bags for Gabe and Chris, and sewed with strips of thin rawhide. There was just enough rawhide left to thread through holes to form the initials of their first names.

  All four of them worked together at night snipping, then flattening the tin from the canned goods. Maureen drew patterns of stars and diamonds. Gabe cut them out and the children punched holes for hanging with bits of string Maureen had saved. It was a quiet-talking time, a good-feeling time with teasing and hints of presents to come. And each night Maureen lingered a little later for private talks with Gabe as they spoke of their pasts and their dreams.

  Maureen’s tale wasn’t unusual. She was born in Ireland to a tenant farmer who wanted a better life for his family. She was three when they settled in Pennsylvania and her father found work in a mill. It was hard saving money, for everything was bought on credit at the mill-owned store and there never seemed to be extra. Her mother earned a bit with her lace making and the stories of free land in the west lured her parents to try farming. But drought took the crops two years running, and then her mother died.

  “Da, he headed for Oregon, for they said the land was rich soil with trees big as ten men around. For a while it was good there. I married young and then Da and my husband were killed in a log jam on the river. I sold off the farm not knowing that I carried Kathleen. I’ve been moving ever since looking for a place to settle.”

  “And then you found Chris and he led you here,” Gabe finished for her.

  “Yes. I felt as if I had come home.”

  He reached across to hold her hand. “I know. And I forgot how much the people inside make a place a home.”

  She squeezed his hand, feeling no need to add to that and they sat watching the flames, content to share this quiet time.

  Maureen caught him yawning and started to rise, but Gabe tugged her hand to keep her sitting near him. He reached out and smoothed her hair back from her cheek.

  “Maureen, I… Oh, no sense in saying anything.” And he kissed her.

  Surprise held her still in those first moments, and then the very gentle touch of his warm lips on hers lured her into staying. She had dreamed about Gabe’s kisses, wondered if he would be gentle or rough. But here was a sweet tenderness that took only what she gave until need asserted itself and passion demanded a bit more.

  His hand cupped her chin, tilting her head as his lips met hers for a deep, searing kiss. Her hands curled on his shoulders, clinging to him. The passion he had sensed was there. Her arms slid around his neck and she kissed him back.

  Her nose bumped his as she slanted her mouth beneath his and he pulled back as she caught her breath. She was awkward, most endearingly as if she had little experience with kissing. Tenderly then, he tempered his kiss with gentleness, smoothing her hair back away from her cheek.

  Maureen heard the soft moan that escaped her lips. She went willingly into the arms that pulled her tight against Gabe’s chest. This was wrong. She knew it was wrong, but the desire rose strong inside her, stronger than she had ever felt. She had to stop. A few seconds more, then she would.

  Something of her thought had communicated itself to Gabe. He didn’t pull away. He held her, one hand stroking her back, his lips breaking the kiss only to move to her delicate ear where he felt the shudder of her response. He tasted the smoothness of her skin, breathed in her scent and knew he had to stop. Now. While he could. But still he held her, listening as their breathing slowed, two heartbeats steadying from rapid drumming. He rested his forehead against hers, waiting for the fever to pass.

  “Don’t ask me to apologize, Maureen,” he murmured. “I can’t be sorry for kissing you.” He leaned back then to see her. Her eyes were dazed, her mouth soft and damp by the light of the fire. And he wanted to kiss her again.

  “I’m not sorry,” she whispered. In spite of what she said, Maureen rose from her place and without another word she left him.

  She waited until she was snug in bed before she would allow herself to think about what happened. A kiss. His kiss. More than she had dreamed it would be. There still lingered the fluttery warmth that began with the first touch of his lips on hers.

  Sweet. Sweet and tender and ever so gentle. She had never thought that a man could be so gentle, as if she were some small, fragile thing. It wasn’t a weakness in Gabe, for she knew him to be a strong man, strong in spirit as well as physical strength. But that kiss…ah, that kiss had stirred awake the very desire she feared.

  She had to remember her own promise that she would never again marry without love.

  Gabe Channing said nothing of love, nothing about a future.

  What would a wealthy man like him want with the likes of her? She was building daydreams with less foundation than a cloud to hold them.

  What did she know of love? What she felt for her daughter and Chris was love. She loved her parents and thought she loved Conn when she married him. But their time together had been too short. Seven months from their meeting to marriage followed by his death.

  Conn was a young girl’s love. There was no way to know if what they had would have grown into a deep and abiding love.

  But that was what she wanted.

  Only it took two to turn attraction into love.

  With a deep, heartfelt sigh, she punched her pillow.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her. A moment later, she amended that and knew she hadn’t wanted him to stop.

  She remembered her wish on the star a
nd thought of this special Christmas season. A time for love and a time for miracles. A time of giving and a time for dreaming of the impossible.

  She had to trust to the Lord that He would make His reason clear for bringing them together. She just had to.

  A light snow had fallen during the night. By the morning the sun was shining and the temperature rose until it was warm. Gabe kept looking at the sky, muttering that he didn’t like the looks of the clouds piling over the far mountain.

  “Maybe,” he said, as they finished their soup and biscuits at noon, “we should go cut our tree now. We’ll bring it up close to the house, set it in a bucket of water and if it freezes, the tree will be fresh when we bring it inside.”

  Maureen looked up at him. So attuned to his masculine presence she noticed the worry in his eyes though he spoke lightly of his intent. She wanted to ask him what was wrong but the children, as usual, were crowding close to him, both trying to top the other about the places where the best of the trees could be found.

  “Maureen, we’ll take your team with us to drag the tree home.”

  “You three go ahead. I’ve a few chores to do. And if I can,” she added over the children’s protests, “I’ll make spice cookies.”

  As Gabe harnessed the team he kept thinking back to the winters he spent here. He thought of things his father said about the snow and the possibility of slides. He had picked the spot for the cabin after two winters of checking the mountain behind to make sure there would never be a slide coming down to bury them.

  But the warming weather alarmed him. He thought about leaving the children behind, then shrugged off his worry. They weren’t going to be gone long. He, too, remembered a few good spots where some young spruce grew.

  Hoisting his ax, he led the team out and Chris and Kathleen fell in behind him. Camp robber jays flitted in the trees, their landings sending a flurry of snow to fall.

  The children sang, and he joined in as they steadily climbed the slope.

  They startled an elk from a thick stand of aspen and stood watching as the huge animal with its massive rack of antlers trotted through a clearing.