Her Montana Christmas

If only Robin had trusted Great-Grandma Lillian and not let her parents put doubts into her head about the veracity of Lillian’s story, she wouldn’t be in such a mess now. She could have gone to the Shaws with a straightforward story and looked for proof without subterfuge, but she’d been so afraid of branding her beloved great-grandmother a liar that she’d become a liar herself. Even though she’d found the proof she’d sought, her mother was right that the Shaws weren’t likely to look kindly upon her lies. And neither, she imagined, would Ethan Johnson. What man of God would?

So, despite her brave words to her mother over the phone, Robin worried that she ought not to accompany Ethan the next morning. After the call ended, she hung up the bedside phone and sat brooding about it for several minutes.

She sensed that Ethan was a very special man and that under other circumstances something special might even develop between them, but her deceit had surely doomed any possible relationship already. It would, she was convinced, be better simply to end her association with him entirely. Perhaps she ought to just leave Jasper Gulch altogether. Maybe her mother’s phone call was a sign of that. Maybe God was trying to tell her to get out now before she humiliated herself.

When the phone rang, her cell phone this time, she halfway expected it to be Ethan telling her that he wouldn’t need her assistance on Saturday after all.

Instead, he said, “I’m making a terrible pest of myself, aren’t I?”

She had to laugh. “Hello to you, too, Ethan.”

“Oh, good. She’s not ready to hang up on me. Yet.”

Smiling, she rolled her eyes. “What is it now?”

The phone crackled, as cell phones tended to do in Jasper Gulch, then he very clearly said, “Would it be a terrible imposition if I asked you to come to the church this evening? I need some advice concerning the pageant.”

She held her breath, wondering if she ought to refuse simply because she so very much wanted to see him.

After a moment, he softly counseled, “You know, it’s okay to pray about these things first. I do.”

She touched her eyebrow and closed her eyes, picturing him with that phone in his hand, praying about whether or not to call her, but then she shook her head. That wasn’t what he meant. Surely that wasn’t what he meant.

“What time?”

“Around seven?”

“Seven it is.”

“Great.” She could hear the relief in his voice. “Weather shouldn’t be a problem, but dress warmly. The sanctuary is chilly on a Friday evening.”

“All right.”

“See you soon.”

She broke the connection and sighed. Whatever was wrong with her? Did she have to go looking for a broken heart? Maybe she should just tell him that she couldn’t go with him tomorrow and put an end to this whole silly crush before she did something truly stupid.

* * *

She turned up at seven sharp, her pale gold hair twisted into a prim knot atop her head. It seemed to Ethan that she’d come armored, with a wide headband that covered her ears and a big, fuzzy, shapeless pale green sweater that covered her almost from knees to chin. Brown leggings and half boots completed the ensemble. She looked rather like a prickly pear, and he had to wonder if that was the point, so wary did she seem at first.

He’d felt compelled to call her. Indeed, seeing her tonight had seemed absolutely imperative. Nevertheless, he welcomed her skittishness and got right down to business, leading her straight into the sanctuary to describe in detail his ideas for the Christmas Eve pageant.

“What do you think?” he asked, finally winding down. “Now, I know they wouldn’t have had this great space to work with, so I’m open to suggestions.”

Robin walked back and forth, considering carefully before saying, “We could put down a tarp and scatter some hay, maybe stack up a few bales and cover them with hopsacking.”

“Very doable.”

“We could also paint a backdrop and string it up on rope.”

“Which do you think would be more in keeping with the period?” Ethan asked.

She tilted her head, thinking it over, perhaps picturing it. “I think we should use loose hay and build a rough stable with timbers or logs.”

“I agree. I’ll get some of the men on it, but I’ll need you to approve their plans. If you don’t mind.”

She clasped her hands behind her back and, after a moment, shrugged. He let out a silent breath.

“About the costumes,” she suddenly began, “the fabrics will be the important part. I’ll ask around. Maybe Mamie has some vintage stuff. If not, we’ll have to arrange a trip into Bozeman or another larger town.”

A smile broke across his face. “Thank you. I couldn’t do this without you, any of it.”

To his utter relief, she smiled. “Glad to be of service.”

He laughed, feeling tons lighter, and impulsively took her hand in his, saying, “I will be so relieved when we have all the greenery gathered.”

Frowning, she pulled her hand free and turned away. Ethan’s heart abruptly sank.

“Robin, is everything okay?”

She sent him a quick, joyless smile. “Oh, you know how it is. Christmas can be a bittersweet time.”

“Are you missing your family?”

She turned to face him then looked down at her toes. “Yes and no. Sadly, I don’t miss the family I have, but I do miss the family I don’t have. Strange, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure I follow you,” he admitted.

“You couldn’t,” she told him with a shake of her head. “But we ought to miss family, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he said simply, “but family is sometimes a burden.”

Her round, blue gaze sharpened. “Is yours?”

He wanted to tell her then, everything, about his losses and disappointments, his fears and heartbreaks, his hopes and needs, but he didn’t dare.

“Some of them are,” he answered evasively. “I miss my sister and niece, though.”

“Oh? Will they come for Christmas?”

Sadness stabbed him. “I doubt it.” That was a half-truth at best, though, and he suddenly wanted very much to give Robin better, so he followed it with a flat “No.”

For some reason, she seemed almost as disappointed as he felt. “That’s too bad.”

“Will your family come here for Christmas?” he asked.

She didn’t even pause to think. “Oh, no. They wouldn’t.”