Maybe This Christmas: A Sweet Historical Western Holiday Romance Novella (Holidays in Mountain Home Book 2) (14 page)

That confession humbled him, nearly brought him to his knees. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

He kissed her, meant for it to be a quick peck, just enough to silence her, to assure her in ways words could not that he had no intention of looking back…just forward, to the future.
Their
future.

The kiss took on a life of its own. She seemed to melt in his arms, lean into his embrace, return the fervor and awareness and love.

It was all the more sweeter for the last week’s misery.

Effie.
His
Effie. In his arms again, right where he wanted her. “You love me?”

Poor Gus.

“I do.”

“Any chance I can get you to say those words in front of Reverend Gilbert?”

She laughed, the sparkle of life and happiness back in the depths of her eyes.

“We can find him at home.”

“Now, don’t rush me. Besides, your family will want to be there.”

“We made it to Miranda and Hunter’s wedding with less than an hour’s notice.”

“That’s true.” Her smile deepened. “And your sister was married in her mourning black. I want a wedding dress.”

“I know a talented tailor.” He remembered her sister—on the distant east coast. “And I’m not the only one with family that might want to attend.”

“I’ve already written to my sister. She merely wanted to know where I was, and I told her. We aren’t close.”

“That’s sad.”

“My home is here, my
family
is here. If you’ll have me.”

Luke dropped to one knee, determined to give her no room for doubt. He kissed the back of her left hand, then her right. “I love you, Effie. I love you more than you can understand.”

She seemed to bubble over with joy.

“It’s true—I love you so much I about died from grief this past week.” He thought of Gus and his conscience twisted. “My life is with you. My future is with you.”

Tears welled in her eyes and her smile widened.

But he wasn’t done. “I don’t have a diamond ring, but I do have a lot out back and the money to build you a modest home.” He swallowed, nearly overcome with the joy of reuniting with this amazing woman. “Will you marry me, share your home, here, with me, until our house is built? Will you take my name?”

She tried to tamp down her smile. “That’s quite a list. Care to add anything?”

He noted the teasing glint in her eye. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

She pretended to consider, tapping a fingertip against her cheek. “No request to take your heart and safeguard it always?”

“Can’t ask that, ‘cause you already have it. You’ve had my heart from the beginning.”

“I
will
safeguard it.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes.”

Effie snuggled next to Luke in the sleigh. Domino cantered toward home and the sleigh bells jingled merrily. Brilliant sunshine reflected off fresh snow, and she was gloriously content to savor Luke’s nearness.

He glanced at her, his smile warming her clear through.

Miranda’s advice had proved correct…when paired with the right man, it was easy to trust, easy to commit. In the full light of day, with the dark week of doubt behind her, she could see with utter clarity how much she wanted to join her life to Luke’s.

She’d thought she’d hesitate to set a wedding date, anticipated she’d want a long engagement and time to prove to herself that Luke would remain constant in his affection through thick and thin.

Somehow, everything had changed. The depth of his love for her was far more tangible than the scars left behind by Carmichael.

“Your family will want to know when the wedding will be.” She couldn’t help but smile at him.

“They can ask.” He shrugged. “I’ll tell them we’ve not decided yet.” He stole a quick kiss.

She pictured the familiar commotion in the Finlay home, setting the tables, mashing the potatoes, children’s laughter. The house would smell of roasting beef and fresh yeast rolls—she’d been a guest at their table so many times in the past year and a half, returning there felt like going home.

Luke had accurately guessed his parents, upon hearing their happy news, would insist on gathering the family together to celebrate. Sure enough, he’d come for her that very next morning, prepared to wait as long as she needed to dress and ready herself. She’d met him at the door, prepared to go.

“You know my family,
our
family.” Happiness radiated from his smile. “It seems to be tradition that we have brief engagements. Hunter and Miranda win that contest, but look at the others—Gerald married after a one-month engagement. Our parents after just three days. Don’t let them rush you.”

“I won’t.”

“They’ll understand if we’re planning on next Christmas.” He seemed hesitant to look at her.

“A full year?”

“If that would help, sure. I just needed to know you’re mine. Now that’s settled, I promise, this time, to exercise patience.”

He’d provided a perfect chance to tease him. She couldn’t resist. “Christmastime? I’d had my heart set on a June wedding. Perhaps a year and a half from now.”

His Adam’s apple slid down his throat in a prolonged swallow. She tucked her lips between her teeth, fighting a smile. “June, 1901. Or maybe 1902.”

He glanced at her then. “Lookin’ to win the prize for the longest Finlay engagement on record? I can do that.”

“Are you sure that’s OK?” She tried to appear pensive. So far, he’d accepted her words at face value.

“I’m good with it. I’ll have time to finish our house, furnish it, ranch another season for my parents.”

She sighed. “That’s a shame.”

He slid her a glance. “How so?”

“I thought you’d be a little more anxious to put a wedding ring on my finger.”

“You know I’d marry you today…if that’s what you want. But I learned my lesson, Effie—I’m done with deadlines. They don’t work out so well for us.”

“So our wedding date is entirely up to me?”

He flicked the reins, urging Domino onward. He glanced at her, his expression revealing hesitancy to give her complete control…as if he feared she’d put him off for a decade. “Pretty much.”

“June, 1905. Has quite a ring to it, hasn’t it?”

“Woman, you’d best be joshing me.”

She chuckled, so filled with joy, she couldn’t contain it. “In all seriousness, I want to marry you on New Year’s Day.”

“What year?”

“This
one. In six days.”

“I thought you wanted to make a fancy wedding dress.”

“A dress doesn’t matter,” she told him, meaning it. “I’ve had a change of heart…I want marriage, to you. You’re the right man for me. New Year’s Day is perfect…for our new beginning.”

Two days after the family celebrated Luke and Effie’s engagement, Luke determined to speak to Gus. He well knew the pain the other man suffered. The wedding would occur in four days…and if he’d not yet heard, Gus deserved to know. The sooner something was said to clear the air, the better.

After all, Gus would be a lifelong neighbor. His purchase of the Abbott’s house was complete, and just yesterday, Liam Talmadge had turned over the sheriff post to Gus. His cough had worsened, and he’d been thinking about retirement.

The sun shone bright overhead, reflecting mercilessly off the snow. In the street, sleigh runners and hooves had churned the slush to a darkened mess.

Luke stomped off his boots and pushed through the sheriff’s office door. The dim interior smelled of strong coffee, wood smoke, and damp wool.

Gus looked up as Luke entered, at home behind the sheriff’s desk. Otherwise, the small office was empty. Good.

“Finlay.” Gus rose, offered a hand across the wide expanse of the battered desk. It’d seen a scuffle or two in its years.

“Rose.” Luke shook with just enough pressure and a whole lot of steady eye contact.

“What can I do for you?”

“Nothing official. Just came by to shake your hand and say hello.”
And apologize. Somehow.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

Luke cringed. But Gus didn’t seem, superficially at least, all that heartbroken.

But Luke knew still waters ran deep and Gus had to be hurting. “Much obliged. My congratulations to you, on the purchase of your new home, the job—” he gestured at the sheriff’s office, realizing it both looked and sounded pathetic. He wasn’t just a neighbor…he was
the
man who’d derailed the future Gus had planned.

God, he knew what that felt like. “It’s a fine town. Good people.”
Even me. Can you see that?

“Yes, it is.” Gus poured a cup of coffee, offered it to Luke.

He accepted, and took the chair Gus indicated with a wordless gesture.

Gus poured himself a cup and returned to his seat.

Scalding hot, the brew was strong and flavorful and just right.

Before Luke could swallow and wonder where to take the conversation from there, the giggle of young female voices outside caught his attention. The door opened with a flurry of woolen skirts and delicate footfalls and frigid air.

Two young fillies, Miss Talmadge and the youngest Miss Abbott, each carrying a basket over their arms. Though the contents were hidden beneath tea towels, it was evident they’d brought lunch to the new sheriff. Well, how ‘bout that. As far as he knew, Talmadge never had a lunch basket delivered, even from his own daughter.

Both young ladies glanced at Luke but quickly turned their attention to Gus.

Luke smiled behind his coffee cup. He’d seen what happened when two men set their sights on the same lady. He didn’t see this working out well for Miss Talmadge or Miss Abbott.

Gus seemed to enjoy the attention. The ladies unpacked their baskets, chattered about homemade preserves and a fresh slice of cake…and wouldn’t he like to stop by for another slice this evening?

“Thank you, ladies.” Gus stood, towering over both girls. He tried to usher them to the door, but found himself fenced in by two very determined women.

It took Gus five minutes and a few promises to pay them each a call to get them out the door.

Gus shut it firmly behind them.

“That was interesting.” Luke set his empty coffee cup on the edge of Gus’s desk. “I don’t want to keep you from your lunch. Sure looks good.”

Gus offered his hand again. “Good of you to stop by, Luke.”

“Friends?” Luke pressed.

“Friends.”

He turned to go.

“One thing,” Gus asked, interrupting Luke’s departure. “It’s not easy getting the short straw.” Gus chuckled morosely. “Never thought she’d choose you over me, but she did.” His features hardened.

Luke decided to let him have his say.

“Do you love her?”

“I do.”

“Enough?”

“More than enough. She’s my center, my life. I knew it from the beginning.”

Gus seemed to weigh the answer. “It wasn’t enough that she loved you. I had to know that your love for her is pure, complete, and selfless.”

Luke nodded, understanding the gravity of Gus’s words. “I understand.”

“Do you?
One
time, Luke Finlay,
one step
out of line, and you
will
answer to me.”

It wasn’t an idle threat, but at the same time, it wasn’t a threat at all. It was simply the truth, the plain, unadorned truth.

If tables were turned, Luke didn’t know if he’d have the strength to shake Gus’s hand and accept his friendship. Gus was apparently the better man.

Luke nodded in response. He accepted Gus’s terms—but it would never come to that. They both knew it. There were simply no words to express Luke’s deep and abiding love for Effie.

She deserved the very best in him—and she’d get it.

Every day of their lives.

On Sunday, December 31, 1899, Luke and Effie’s wedding was held promptly upon the conclusion of church. Every member of the Finlay family was in attendance, along with most of the community.

Effie noticed Gus wasn’t among the worshipers, and she couldn’t blame him. In his shoes, she didn’t know that she’d have attended, either.

She wore the most impractical, if simple, gown of white. Her mother-in-law-to-be, along with Noelle and Gerald’s and Del’s wives, had insisted on sewing Effie’s dress. She’d long felt accepted and loved by the Finalys, but this gift somehow pulled her deeper into the bosom of the family, expressed welcome and affection that taught her even more about familial love.

Just before the wedding began, she hugged Luke’s mother tight. “Thank you, Mother Finlay.”

Tears filled the beloved matron’s eyes. “I love you—
we
love you, Effie. You’re our daughter, now, through and through.”

“I will be, in a few minutes.”

“We claimed you long ago.”

“Thank you.”

“Ready?” Phil Finlay offered his arm.

“Yes.” Tears swam in her eyes and she blinked them away.

Caroline lowered Effie’s veil, arranged it just so.

Mrs. Gilbert coaxed the first chords from the organ, and everyone gathered rose to their feet.

At the front, Luke stood in his Sunday best, his attention riveted to her. Love shone on his face, pure, complete, and certain. The sheer veil did little to hamper her vision, which was good—she wanted to see everything.

The aisle had never seemed so long before. If she could dispense with this tradition of walking toward her husband-to-be, she would have. She couldn’t become his wife soon enough.

Phil patted her hand, passed her off to his son. He lifted her veil and pressed a fatherly kiss to her forehead. Father Finlay had shown her more affection, more love, more inclusion in his family than her own father ever had.

How strange, the butterflies in her stomach, the newness of this celebration—as if it were her first wedding, her only wedding. In some ways, it was.

Luke’s hands were so warm, so steady as he held hers. His hazel eyes had never conveyed such love, such devotion. Oh, she’d definitely made the right choice.

Reverend Gilbert cleared his throat. The organ’s last phrase tapered to a note Mrs. Gilbert seemed to hold infinitely too long.