Charlotte Carter - Montana Love Letter

“I was thinking...” Sitting down beside her, Adam scooped up a forkful of scrambled eggs. “I’m going to close up shop about noon today. Some guys and I have a musical group, the lead plays banjo, and we’ve got a couple of guitars, bass fiddle, violin. We play country and western, and we’re scheduled to perform at the municipal park this afternoon as part of the festival.”

“You’re a musician?” In addition to being a mechanic? And an astronomer? A regular Renaissance man.

“Mostly I just strum along with whatever the guys are playing.” A slight flush colored his cheeks. “Anyway, I thought you and Raeanne might like to come along. Hailey’s coming, of course. There are booths with handcrafted stuff, an art display. All kinds of food stands. You could eat lunch there.”

She took a banana-nut muffin from the box and broke off a bite. “That sounds tempting. But I think my first priority is to find a motel room somewhere.”

He shook his head. “That’s not going to happen, at least not for tonight. I gave the Visitor Center a call again this morning. Everything’s still booked solid.”

She gaped at him. “Are you sure?”

“That’s what Ariel told me. So I guess you’re stuck here for another night.”

“Stuck” wasn’t how she’d describe the situation. Adam’s guest cottage and house were way too comfortable for her to feel anything but very fortunate. “You really don’t mind us staying?”

His lips tilted ever so slightly. “You know what they say about Bear Lake—the friendliest little town in Montana.”

She responded with a smile of her own. “So I’ve heard.” She still wasn’t convinced staying in Adam’s cottage was a good plan. Since they were basically strangers, it felt a little too friendly. Too much of an imposition. Still, it appeared her choices were limited. “I imagine by Sunday the town will clear out.”

“Sure. Except for the regular tourists who are en route to or from Glacier National Park.”

“Is Bear Lake always this busy?”

“During the summer, yeah. And pretty much during the ski season. It gets real quiet in the fall, which is my favorite time of year.”

Janelle could understand that. Although spring, when wildflowers began to bloom, had always been her special favorite. She loved to dry flowers and make floral arrangements.

Adam’s attention shifted to something behind Janelle. She turned and smiled at her daughter.

“Come on, sweetie. Adam bought us some yummy muffins.” Still sleepy, her hair mussed, Raeanne climbed up in Janelle’s lap and buried her head in her mom’s chest.

“Did you sleep okay?” Adam asked.

Raeanne eyed him cautiously and nodded.

“That’s good. How about your stuffed animal? Did he sleep good, too?” Adam appeared to be doing his friendly host routine.

Raeanne looked up at Janelle in alarm. She struggled free of her grasp, slid down to the deck and raced off barefoot toward the cottage.

Adam shrugged. “She’s really shy, isn’t she?”

“It’s more than being shy, I’m afraid.” Janelle pulled her lip between her teeth. “She hasn’t spoken a word since her father died. She was there when he collapsed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“So am I. I had her in therapy for several months, but it didn’t seem to help. Which is one of the reasons why I decided to start over somewhere else.”

His forehead furrowed and his eyes filled with sympathy. “That’s tough.”

“Yes, it is.” For both of them. “I just have to have faith that, with the Lord’s help and a new environment, Raeanne will find her voice again.”

* * *

Adam opened the garage’s big doors and went into his office.

It surprised him how much he’d liked sitting with Janelle on the deck having breakfast together. Even with her hair wet from a shower and her face scrubbed clean, she radiated beauty and poise. And a warmth that made him want to reach out to touch her cheek, caress her soft skin.

An urge he intended to resist.

He laughed a bitter sound. What irony that he’d be attracted to a woman with a degree in anthropology when he’d barely made it through high school with straight D’s.

Vern, his mechanic and tow-truck driver, ambled into the garage. His hands stuffed in the pockets of his overalls, he glanced at Janelle’s car, which was still parked where he’d left it yesterday.

“Hey, boss. That lady and her little girl find someplace to stay last night? Didn’t figure there’d be any rooms left in town, what with the festival ’n’ all.”

“They stayed in Grandma’s cottage out back.”

“You don’t say.” His pale blue eyes twinkling, he lifted his grimy baseball cap, scratched his head and resettled his cap. “Didn’t know you was in the hotel business.”

Adam shoved away from his desk and stood. “I couldn’t very well tell them to sleep in the car.”

“No, sir. That’s a fact, all right. You gotta take good care of your customers. Particularly them that are real good-lookin’ ladies.” Vern’s amused grin grated on Adam.

Scowling, Adam gestured to the Buick sitting on the lift. “Why don’t you get back to work on Hardison’s transmission? I promised he could pick it up by noon today.”

“Sure thing, boss. If you want to keep that pretty little lady a secret, no problem. My lips are sealed. Yes, sirree.” He made a zipping motion across his grinning mouth.

A muscle twitched in Adam’s jaw. “Get busy, old man, or I’ll tell Mama Machak at the diner that you’ve been bad-mouthing her chicken and dumplings all around town.”

Laughing, Vern threw up his hands in surrender. “Don’t do that, son. Without her weekly special of chicken and dumplings, and them pies she makes, I’d starve to death.”

With a shake of his head and a grin stuck on his face, he sauntered over to the Buick.

Adam wished he could wipe that grin off, but that would be dumb. Vern was too perceptive by far, recognizing Adam enjoyed Janelle’s company more than a little.

An anthropology major? Some chance he’d have with her.

* * *

At the Arthur Cummings Municipal Park near the public docks, Adam went off to find his fellow musicians while Janelle and the girls strolled through the milling crowd. They browsed booths exhibiting handmade crafts—blown glass, ceramics, quilts and jewelry. A display of exquisite handmade dolls tempted Janelle, but they were more for show than for play so she passed them by. Raeanne wasn’t old enough yet to appreciate the fine craftsmanship.

Meanwhile, Adam’s band wasn’t on stage yet. Instead, a bluegrass band played in the gazebo, their audience seated on folding chairs in the shade of a canopy or scattered around the open grassy area on blankets. Each family group boasted a colorful picnic basket. Toddlers and young children swayed to the rhythm of the music.

The lake provided a backdrop for the event. Near the far shore, sailboats cut through the blue water, leaving a narrow wake behind them. Closer at hand, water-

skiers whizzed by pulled by high-powered motorboats that carefully remained outside the roped-off swimming area.

Smoke from a barbecue floated on the breeze blowing in from the lake.

“Do you girls want to eat your lunch now?” Janelle asked. “Or do you want to wait until Hailey’s dad is done playing?”

“Let’s eat now,” Hailey said. “Dad’s friend Charlie always has them playing a long set. We’d get too hungry waiting for him to finish.”

When Raeanne caught the scent of hot dogs, she tugged Janelle in the direction of the hot-dog stand sponsored by Bear Lake Community Church. A half-dozen teenagers were staffing the operation, supervised by an older woman wearing a colorful butcher apron.