Sweetwater Springs Scrooge: A Montana Sky Holiday Short Story (The Montana Sky Series) (4 page)

Not that he cared what people thought anyway. The image of Marian crossed his mind, and he tried to pretend he cared as little about her opinion as the rest of the congregation. Although deep inside he knew he cared more.

Elias sometimes attended church on Sundays because his mother would turn in her grave if he didn’t, and, if truth-be-told, Reverend Norton’s sermons usually gave him food for thought. But more often, he went for the bittersweet torture of catching a glimpse of Mrs. Harold Williams.

Through the years, he’d seen his Marian Hutchinson—the woman he thought would be his bride—attend the services with her husband and then, a year later, with the daughter who should have been his. He’d watched young Juliana grow up and become the spittin’ image of her mama, marry, and move away. Then the pew held just Marian and Harold, until her husband died, leaving Marian to sit alone.

Last year, he’d overheard a mention of Juliana’s death and hadn’t attended a service since, for such a great loss surely should be personally acknowledged to Marian. Yet he couldn’t find the words to break the thirty-year silence between them in order to express condolences. For as much as he’d never said a thing to the girl, never even acknowledged her presence, he keenly felt Juliana’s absence in the world, and could only imagine the depths of Marian’s pain.

Yes, Elias was out of the habit of expressing himself, and he certainly hadn’t been a great hand in doing so before. Or surely he and Marian would have resolved their differences at the time.

Nervously, he pulled at his cuffs.
Today I have to be different.
He’d spent hours thinking of what to say to Marian, and could only pray he’d actually get the words out of his mouth,
and
that she’d hear him out.

Today when he entered the church building, instead of hiding in the back pew, Elias moved to the center to sit across from Noah and Marian on the other side of the aisle.

When Noah saw Elias, the boy straightened from his slouch against the side of the pew and gave a happy wiggle, his eyes sparkling. He raised his hand in a slight wave.

Elias nodded back, conscious of astonished eyes on him. A few people wished him good morning, and he dipped his chin to them as well—a bigger gesture than the usual faint bob of his head, which, in the past, he’d only given out when forced to for the sake of politeness.

As he sat, Elias felt the stares of the people in the back rows boring into his neck, causing the fine hairs there to prickle. For a moment, he regretted his choice of seat, wishing for humble obscurity in the last pew. But then he glanced over at Noah and saw the boy nod in approval, looking as though he was the elder and not Elias.

Elias wanted to laugh.
Noah certainly is a character.
But he held in both the chuckle and the shake of his head.
No use in encouraging the boy, especially in church with all eyes upon him.

But somehow, Noah’s optimism seeped into Elias and gave him hope.

~ ~ ~

Marian could not have been more shocked seeing Elias, his hair and beard trimmed, nod and smile at her before taking a seat in a center pew across from them, than if a grizzly bear dressed in human clothing had attended Advent service. Her heart skipped so rapidly she wanted to press her hand to her chest, as if to slow the beat. But she didn’t want to draw attention. Plenty of older members of the congregation hadn’t forgotten she and Elias used to be engaged.

The church was already decorated for Christmas. Evergreen and holly boughs lined the bottoms of the windows, unlit red candles in glass holders gleaming in the weak sunlight. On Christmas Eve, they’d glow through the windows, representing the light of God shining into the bleakness of the world.

Although she’d dutifully tried to concentrate on the church service, watching as Micah Norton, the grandson of the minister, carefully lit three of the four candles of the advent wreath on the center of the altar; absently singing the words “Oh Come, oh Come, Emmanuel,” which she knew by heart; and listening to Reverend Norton’s sermon—Marian found her attention straying to the man in the pew across from them. Not that she turned her head to look at him. But even though she needed glasses to thread a needle, nothing was wrong with her side vision, and she watched Elias far too often.

The church service, normally an enjoyable experience, had never seemed so long. Finally, Reverend Norton pronounced the benediction.

Marian suppressed a sigh of relief. She glanced over at the neighboring pew, expecting to see Elias fleeing as usual. But instead of slipping out after Reverend Norton uttered the blessing, the man waited to file out with the rest of the congregation, which forced her to acknowledge him with a polite smile and gracious nod.

Noah popped out of their pew to stand in front of Elias. “Hello, Mr. Masters. Glad you made it.” The boy’s ears practically wiggled as he glanced back and forth between his grandmother and Elias.

Her grandson was in obvious matchmaking mode. She sent the child a stern glance that didn’t seem to quell his spirits one bit.

“Mornin’, Noah. Marian.” Elias touched his hat to her, his hazel eyes warm.

Her stomach tightened. She glanced away, then straightened her shoulders and met his gaze. “Good morning, Elias. I’m glad to see you in church.” Marian’s tone was as stiff as her body. She didn’t mean to sound unwelcoming, but this whole situation felt so awkward, especially since curious churchgoers had stopped to observe them. She gestured to Noah to head down the aisle, hoping to leave Elias behind. But the annoying man stayed right with her.

They stepped outside, and she was grateful for the cold air cooling her cheeks.

Instead of running off to play, Noah stayed by them. “Grandma made oatmeal cookies, Mr. Masters. Why don’t you come over and have some?”

Little scamp!
He’s due for a severe scolding as soon as we get home.
“I’m sure Mr. Masters has other things to do,” Marian said in a repressive tone barely able to meet Elias’s gaze.

“That sounds fine.” Elias gave her a warm smile, acting as if she’d extended him a cordial invitation. “I always loved your oatmeal cookies.”

His words brought back memories of all the times she’d made oatmeal cookies—his favorite—when she expected him to come over, timing the baking so they’d still be warm when he arrived.

Apparently satisfied with his matchmaking, Noah flashed them an impudent grin and ran off to join his friends, Daniel and Christine Thompson, who’d driven to church in a tiny sleigh pulled by the miniature horses owned by their mother. Normally Marian would have followed him, for the small Falabellas, one gray and one black, charmed her just as much as they did her grandson. But now, she was too discomforted by Elias’s presence to move.

He extended his elbow to her. “Let me walk you home.”

Conscious of the gazes upon them, Marian could hardly refuse such a gallant gesture, but oh how she wanted to. The buzz of gossip from the people around them made her ears burn. She knew their thirty-years-ago courtship would be the topic of conversation around the Sunday dinner tables of Sweetwater Springs as people speculated what would happen next. She could have told them if she’d been so inclined.
Nothing will happen!
Begrudgingly, she took his arm.

Marian remained quiet until they moved out of earshot, not only to avoid being overheard, but because her resentment of Elias’s unexpected behavior had stolen her voice. Finally, she thought of the kitten waiting at home and realized she needed to thank him, although the words stuck in her craw. “Haggai is quite the addition to our household. Thank you.”

His eyebrows drew together in puzzlement, then smoothed out. He laughed. “I’m glad to hear it.”

The laughter brightening his usually dour expression stunned her, and Marian’s stomach dipped. “The kitten’s been sleeping with my grandson,” she said calmly, trying to hide from Elias his affect on her. “I found him curled up on the pillow next to Noah’s head. Not like Zephaniah who slept at my feet.” As she remembered the loss of her companion, her words trailed off.

“You must miss your cat.”

Why is Elias sounding so understanding, especially about a pet?
“Zephaniah was a birthday present for Juliana when she turned fourteen. But Edward, her husband, didn’t like cats, so Zephaniah stayed with me when she married.” Marian smiled, remembering the look of delight on her daughter’s face when Harold had placed the kitten in her arms. Losing that cat severed another connection to Juliana. Pain squeezed her chest, robbing her of breath.

“Your daughter was a fine girl,” Elias said in a gentle voice.

Surprised, Marian glanced up at him. He’d never even given the slightest sign of acknowledging Juliana’s presence.

“I bitterly envied Harold fathering her. I couldn’t see Juliana but think she should have been mine.”

The sentimental picture she conjured up with that statement was so at odds with the morose stranger he’d been throughout the years that she stared at him. “She should have.” Marian echoed him. Then shocked by her response, she shook her head. “What am I
saying
? Without Harold as her father, she wouldn’t have been my Juliana.”

“That’s true. But she was very like you. I imagine she’d have been that way regardless of who her father was.”

Her eyes filled, blurring her vision. “I had her for twenty-six years. I try to content myself with that. Many mothers aren’t so blessed. And she gave me Noah. Thank God for Noah!” Marian sniffed and fumbled for her handkerchief in her sleeve.

He stopped and pulled a white scrap of fabric from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Thank you.” Marian moved to blow her nose, and the brown embroidered initials in the corner caught her eye. She spread out the handkerchief and realized it was one of a set she’d made Elias for his birthday. Her throat tightened. “You still have this?”

“I carry it only when I go to church.”

With his free hand, Elias cupped hers, lifting the handkerchief toward her face. “Go on, use it.”

She blotted her eyes and turned from him to blow her nose.

The Thompson’s small sleigh flashed by them with Daniel driving. Noah sat on the seat by his side. “Hello, Grandma,” he called as they passed.

She waved, glad to see her grandson enjoying himself with his friend.

“He’s a fine boy, Marian,” Elias said, echoing his earlier comment about Juliana.

“I worry about him…growing up with no man around. Just an old woman.”

“No! You’re
not
old,” he said with a frown. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

“How can you say so? I have wrinkles.” She slid her palms down her hips, which were wider than they’d once been. “And…”

“More beautiful.” He injected some humor into his tone. “Back then, you were a mite on the skinny side.”

In mock displeasure, she stuck her nose in the air and tugged on his arm to get him moving.

Again they fell quiet, but this time, the silence seemed companionable, almost familiar.

“I’d like another chance, Marian.”

The quiet words stunned her, and she pulled away.

“Please allow me to court you.”

Why is he asking now? Why not then, when my heart was broken, and I needed him to change?
Thirty years of hurt and anger welled up in her, making her speak sharply. “You can’t fool me, Elias Masters!” She waved her hand up and down his body, gesturing at his shabby attire. “A vase before. A kitten now. I won’t fall for your tricks again.”
I won’t let you break my heart again.
“You can’t fool me into thinking you’ve changed…become generous when you’re…you’re nothing but a
Scrooge
!”

Avoiding the hurt in his hazel eyes, Marian turned her back on him. Hot with indignation, her stomach tight with pain, she stormed away as fast as she could manage on the snowy road.

~ ~ ~

Feeling like she’d just stabbed an icicle through his heart, Elias stared after Marian.

She marched down the street, her spine stiffer than a parade soldier’s. Once, she slipped on a patch of ice, but never lost her dignity, recovering her footing and continuing on.

Elias wondered if he’d ever again nerve up his courage to try to court her.

The sound of boyish laughter tore his attention away from Marian. Once again, the miniature horses trotted by, pulling the little red sleigh. Both boys’ faces were alight with glee.

Daniel reined-in by the church.

Noah climbed out of the sleigh. He lingered in conversation with the older boy for a minute, than ran over to join Elias. “Where did my grandma go?”

Elias pointed down the street.

Noah glanced at Marian’s retreating form and shook his head. “Uh, oh. I think you’re in the doghouse.”

“That’s true, boy. I’ve been there for nigh on thirty years, and I tell you, the space is getting pretty cramped.”

“Are you still coming over for cookies?”

“Something tells me your grandma wouldn’t appreciate my presence right now.”

“Gee.” Noah looked down and scuffed the snow. “What’re you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Elias said glumly, his shoulders slumping.

The miniature sleigh with the two Thompson children inside sped down the street, heading for their ranch. A bigger sleigh with the rest of the family slid into place behind it.