Chris placed her load down and put a hand to her heart. In her most theatrical voice, she swooned, her face displaying a dramatic faint-with-joy expression. “Why, Mr. Parker, you put words together in such a way that makes me want to weep with happiness.”

  Everyone laughed at her spectacle. Chris took our reactions in her stride. My daughter was confident in her skin and never pretended to be anyone she was not. Chris turned to ogle the food. “Look, Mama. Fruit bread – just like Grandma’s baker makes.”

  “This will taste even better, cause your newest-best-friend made it,” I said.

  “Oh, yes!” She gave Annie a look of admiration and began to heap two of everything on her small plate. The girls filled their glasses with lemonade and plunked beside the trunk of decorations on the floor. Joel and I took what was left over and sat on the settee.

  Two hours later, as the sun was descending beneath the horizon, a spectacle of reds and oranges lit the skies and cast its splendor across the flatland and into Joel’s now Christmas ready room. Joel stoked the fireplace and lit a lantern. We all stood back and gazed at our masterpiece.

  “Oh, Pa. It’s the best tree ever,” said Annie.

  “It looks good enough to eat,” said Chris who was eyeing the crisscrossing strands of threaded popcorn and the wrapped chocolate balls that hung by strings to branches.

  “I must admit I’ve never had balls of chocolate swinging on my tree. Tempts me to hurry the Christmas Eve celebration along,” said Joel.

  “Pa, why don’t you invite Chris and Mrs. Spencer? They got no kin here in Montana and it wouldn’t be right to leave them alone in town.” Annie’s feet danced on the spot. Joel had no choice but to ask.

  “Stop jumping, girl. No need to test the knots in the ropes holding up the tree.” He turned and spoke to me. “I would be honored if you’d join us here at the ranch – Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Annie has lots of space she can share with Chris, and there’s a spare room for you. That way you’ll be here at the break of dawn when all the excitement happens.”

  Chris squealed then gasped. “But, Mama, will Santa know where to drop off the gifts?”

  “I thought you couldn’t think of anything you wanted?” I asked.

  “I asked for some needy stuff – like a big rosy red apple and maybe some stick candy and… what am I telling you for? The big request was something for you – and I think you know by now what that might be.”

  “Really, Chris. You involved Santa in your game of clues?”

  “Well, Mrs. Claus started it all. He can blame her for the extra work,” said Chris.

  “I’m afraid you ladies are babbling over my head,” said Joel. “We just need a yes or no to the invitation.”

  Chris yelled, “Yes! Thank you, sir. We would love to spend Christmas with you.” She grabbed Annie’s hand and pulled her off to the side. Her whisper was filled with enough panic that it was easily overheard. “Are you sure your Pa has no plaid lurking around here?”

  Sunday dawned bright and clear, and I hurried from the comfort and warmth of my bed to prepare for church service. This would be our first one in Livingston, and I was relieved that I already knew a significant number of the congregation.

  Chris was excited because Annie would be coming to town. They had become glued to the hips, and I was pleased with her choice of friend. Annie was the practical one, and Chris flew far too freely by the seat of her pants. But together they compromised down the middle, and the most active part of their characters filled the cup of exuberance, but did not overflow it.

  “Are you ready, Mama? Fran is calling us for breakfast. Smells like sausage and pancakes. Aren’t you hungry yet?” She stood just outside my closed bedroom door tapping lightly on the wood with impatient fingers.

  “Head to the kitchen,” I said. “I’m right behind you.”

  Sure enough, Fran had stacks of interesting shaped flat cakes – hearts, circles, squares and what resembled a dog or some strange animal with four legs. In small dishes multiple jams and stiffened cream sat ready to spread over the top.

  “This is very creative, Fran. Thank you for the special touch. As you can see, Chris feels the need to devour at least one of every shape.”

  Fran bounced her ample frame around the room - an excellent hostess for her clients at the boarding house. Business had been slow since our arrival. She assured me that it would pick up in the New Year when folks weren’t tied up with family and started to travel again.

  “I made them for eating. Help yourself, girls. The preacher is a mite long-winded if you ask me,” Fran said.

  Chris moaned. I gently kicked her under the table. “Once a week I think we can manage an extra dose of teaching from a schooled reverend. The discipline will do us good, right Chris?”

  “Sure, Mama. I’m feeling disciplined already.” I smiled. I’m positive her statement referred to the reprimand she received in her shins. Chris found it hard to sit still for much these days. She was a bundle of energy that appeared to have lost the lid to her jar of enthusiasm.

  After the final note from the organ resonated and the words of Silent Night concluded, the eager parishioners hurried outside to talk about the next event. Christmas in Montana – and probably worldwide – appeared to be a busy season, as people jumped from one activity to another.

  “Did you ever notice that it is rare for societies to stop and fully digest one experience before moving headlong into the next?” I asked Joel as we watched the buzz of conversation erupt around us.

  “I have, and fight the impulse every time,” Joel said as he led me clear of the crowd. “It’s all about the theatre. The town hall is putting on its yearly performance Thursday, Christmas Eve day. Most people like to attend as a kick off to their family festivities.”

  “A play? I’m surprised I haven’t heard.”

  “Annie and I usually attend. I should have told you when I asked you out to the ranch for the holiday. Is it too late to invite you? Then you can ride home with us, and we’ll pick up the celebration there.”

  The girls chose that second to bombard us. Chris was using her loud outside voice. “Mama, how did I miss hearing about the play? Me, the drama queen!”

  “Mr. Parker has just invited us to tag along with them. Do you have any objections?”

  “No, ma’am! But if I’d been in Livingston earlier, I’d have auditioned for the stage. Maybe next year. Isn’t Montana wonderful?”

  I laughed. “It is wonderful.” I was fast losing my daughter to this Sky Country, and I wasn’t sure anymore if it mattered to me where we made a life – as long as it was together. And I could find a job.

  “So, how about I treat you ladies to lunch at the Diner, then we will hit the show at one o’clock and be home well before three. Does that interfere with any of your plans?”

  A chorus of no’s rang out just as we reached the Parker’s cutter. Joel tipped his hat. “Well, I’ll be looking forward to the start of another wonderful adventure with the Spencer ladies, Thursday at noon.”

  We watched them mount the sleigh and drive away. Chris and Annie were still waving as they turned the corner onto the road out of town. I grasped Chris’ hand in mine, and she squeezed back hard.

  “Oh, Mama, this is the best place in the whole world that Pa sent us to. Do you think he’s looking down from heaven and seeing me happy again?”

  “I think it is very possible that your father is peeking through a hole in a cloud to make sure his baby girl is happy.” I watched as her face lit up.

  “I even liked the preacher, Mama.” She gazed into a fluffy white cloud. “Don’t think there’s anything that would show him better just how happy I am, than me liking to be in the house of God. I mean – really liking it.”

  I laughed heartily. “You, daughter dear, are indeed a conundrum.”

  Classes finished on Wednesday afternoon. I’d bought each of the children a stick candy, tied it with a ribbon and fastened a small note to it. I sent them off amidst shouts of joyful voices proclaiming, Merry Christmas. I spent the next couple hours giving the room a thorough cleaning and then locked the door behind me. I wouldn’t be back until the New Year.

  Suddenly, my time in Livingston seemed so short. In six months, when I once again cleaned and locked this door, my term would be over, and in its wake usher in the decision I dreaded making. The school I’d applied to in Texas had sent a wire yesterday and it was delivered to Fran’s boarding house. It informed me that they’d chosen a local candidate for the position. Going south now had lost one of its drawing cards, but Livingston did not have nearly as many job opportunities as Texas. I sighed. Half a year was a long time. I’d just wait and see where things stood then. I smiled. Such a short time ago the news of losing the teaching contract would have devastated me. Today, I felt at peace, as if casting my net wide was an easy thing for me. It wasn’t, but I felt wonderful.

  That evening Mrs. Foster appeared at the door. “Mrs. Spencer. I trust I am not intruding but I come on behalf of the board and need to talk to you.” Her agitation was apparent as she twisted her handbag within her gloved fingers until I thought she’s stop the blood circulation.

  “Please, come inside. Would you like some tea?” I hoped I hadn’t done something wrong. I was not ready to quit teaching yet.

  “Oh, no. I can’t stay long.” She perched on the edge of the cushioned chair seat. “It appears our Mr. Jacobs has secured a new position in New York close to where his ailing mother lives. He will not be returning next fall. I can’t blame him entirely.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I wanted to let you know the situation and ask you if you would consider staying on in Livingston – in a permanent capacity?”

  I smiled, relief flooding my being. “I have enjoyed your town and my teaching job. Your invitation to stay is most timely. I believe I would be very interested in remaining in Livingston in the position of schoolteacher. And I know my daughter will be thrilled with the news.”

  “Oh, my, I wasn’t expecting your answer so soon. The board will be pleased with your decision. We hear only good feedback from your students and their folks.”

  When she left, I marveled at this latest change of events. Everyday appeared to hold another miracle and open new doors of opportunity. Chris had been eavesdropping on our conversation and leapt into my arms the moment the woman left the boarding house. Yes, the Spencer girls would manage all right living in this North Country.

  Christmas Eve dawned with brilliant skies that spoke of promise and a gentle warm breeze that stirred my heart. This was my favorite time of the year. Something peaceful always visited my soul, and I clung to it, even when my rambunctious daughter flitted all around me attempting to rob me of its sensation.

  The plans for the day were full of adventure and good times. The morning found us both enjoying long luxurious baths and pampering each other. The result was worth it. When we stood in front of Joel at the door, he whistled loudly.

  “My, you both take my breath away. Annie, what do you think? We chose two fine ladies to escort to the play.”

  “Yes we did, Pa. And if we don’t hurry, we won’t get a good seat. Chris and I want to sit up front and center.”

  “So much for the opening preliminaries. Shall we go?” He extended his arm to me, and I felt proud to stand beside him as we walked toward our next great adventure together.

  Chris squirmed on the edge of her seat, surveying the formal room and trying to peer behind a tiny slit opening in the thick velvety tapestry on stage. The room was fitting for any of the grand social events the Spencer family had attended in the finest locations in Texas. Timbers stood high, cut in delicate designs that swirled down the posts to the floor. The sun’s rays, streaming in from the long slim windows on the sidewalls, reflected the sheen on the floor, giving everything a glowing appearance. It was an excellent venue for a magical Christmas play.

  The Claus Effect was accurately named. As the acts rolled out, and the colorful characters brought the script to life, it depicted pure fun and nonsense at the North Pole. I couldn’t help but think of my adventure with Mrs. Claus this year and smiled. Chris had been relatively quiet this week about the whole mystery, and I supposed she was down in the mouth at not being able to find my man in plaid that was somehow connected to the whimsical reindeer gift. The incident intrigued me, but I wasn’t going to stake my happily-ever-after on it.

  Joel and I chuckled throughout the performance and joined in the standing ovation at the end. I glanced sideways and noticed that Chris appeared somber. Something had disappointed her. Most likely it was the fact that she assumed she could have played a better main character. The young Miss Chewy in the play had muffed her lines on two occasions and lacked the pizazz that Chris boasted naturally. Or perhaps it was the elf. Maybe he didn’t resemble the one that visited the school window – or perhaps he did. That would be more devastating. I sighed. There was no figuring my daughter’s moods. They flitted up and down like the wings of a hummingbird.

  On the way to the Parker ranch, I had to nudge her. “Chris,” I whispered. “You are being rude. Did you not enjoy the play?”

  “Sure. It was alright. The elf was a big disappointment.” Ah, so it was the elf.

  I looked at Joel who’d overheard and shrugged my shoulders. Annie was busy trying to draw her friend out of the dumps by pointing out every stray animal that appeared in the path. As we drew near to the house, she finally broke through Chris’ silence.

  “Look,” Annie squealed. “A herd of deer. Looks like they’re having a board meeting on top of the hill with their heads and antlers bowing low in the center.” She looked at her father. “They look rather odd, Pa. Have you saw that bunch before?”

  “Don’t pay much mind to deer. The hungry-lot eat my vegetables and your flowers. They can stay up on the hill – they aren’t welcome down here.”

  We all trudged inside, and the girls disappeared into the bedroom only to reappear a few moments later clad in layers of outdoor clothes. At the door, they pulled on coats, boots, hats, and mitts.

  “We’ll be back in time to make dinner, Pa. Just going to check out that meeting on the hill.” They giggled and ran out the door. At four-thirty they were still not back.

  “You’re worried, aren’t you, Joel?” I asked.

  “It’s not like Annie. She has all this grand evening planned to the smallest detail, and she’s a no-show. I don’t get it.”

  “She has a new friend. I’m sorry. Chris is spontaneous and not always the best influence on such a steady girl as Annie.”

  “No, I like that about Chris. She is a fantastic diversion. Annie has been taking on adult roles since her mother’s death. Too much work and not enough fun.” He glanced toward the door, got to his feet, and looked out the window for the hundredth time.

  I moved in behind him and placed a hand on his back. “Joel, why don’t you go take a look on the hill. I can start dinner. Annie has a list on the counter. She is a terrific organizer – a lot like me.”

  “I will if you don’t mind. Just can’t shake this creepy feeling.” Joel dressed in a heavy coat, boots and hat. He left without another word.

  I kept busy in Annie’s kitchen, dashing to the window at every sound in the yard. Joel had been gone for hours, and my heart grew heavier by the minute. I felt so useless. While roaming through Joel’s cabin, for lack of something else to do, I wondered if my prayers to find the girls simply amounted to a repetitious roll call to the heavens.

  I drifted through the house. Annie’s bedroom was the opposite of Chris’ – tidy, organized, and uncluttered. There was a spare bedroom that held a double bed, a dresser, and a night table. Navy and white vertical stripes patterned the curtains that hung from the window. My overnight carpetbag sat on the pale blue bedspread, ready to unpack for the duration of our visit. The third bedroom was Joel’s, but I only glanced inside knowing it was not my place to be snooping into a man’s private quarters. It also was neat and organized except for a pair of work pants and a shirt threw across the bottom of the bed - probably clothes worn for this morning’s chores. I closed the door and returned to the kitchen.

  Supper sat in the warming oven and was slowly drying out. Maybe I’d stir up some gravy – it would hopefully refresh the meal when the time came to eat it. I fidgeted with extra touches and laid out the items for the planned events that the girls had chatted unceasingly about for the last week. It all preoccupied my time and kept me from going stir crazy.

  Where could they be? Tonight was too important to both of them to skip it intentionally. That only left one scenario, and I refused to dwell there long in case despair consumed me entirely. It was bitter cold, and Chris had no idea of how to stay warm in the North Country. Locals affectionately called it Sky Country, but today, although the heavens shone brilliantly, in my tormented mind the sky loomed gray and ominous. It did not bring comfort to my worried soul.

  Oh, why had I given in and come to Montana? I fatigued from the flip-flop of my emotions – coming and going – staying or leaving. I was perched at a crossroad in our lives, but fear of the unknown cast a shadow over a safer more familiar choice. I pounded the dough harder and through gritted teeth began to hum a tune. It wasn’t until four-bars in that I recognized the jingle. Rudolf? Who cared about Santa’s reindeer? I needed hope – now!

  I heard the door crash open and Chris yelling at the top of her lungs. I dropped the rolling pin and raced into the front hall. There stood my baby girl, and I folded her cold body into my arms.

  “Oh, Mama, I know you were worried, and we’d have gotten word to you and Mr. Parker if at all possible. Honest, we would have.”

  I took a deep breath, wiped away my tears of relief and pushed her out to arm’s length. “I’m listening.” I attempted to sound firm. She deserved punishment for this escapade.

  “We were almost ready to give up our foolish idea and head home when we stumbled on it.” Chris was out of breath but her eyes rounded with curiosity – the kind that always landed her into trouble.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7