Roz Fox - Her Mistletoe Miracle

Wylie stared into the depths of his mug. “I try not to dwell on it. Having babies anywhere is risky. But I love her so much, it’s scary. If anything were to happen to Marlee or the baby because of me…” He shook his head at the thought and turned to look at Mick. “I can’t force her to stay in Kalispell for the month before the baby’s born. If you have any influence…”

“I don’t,” Mick hastened to say. “She’d just dig in harder if I say anything. It’s the Callen stubborn trait. I recognize it well.” He grinned to lighten the mood. “So, what can I do to help get this addition shipshape for guests? Marlee said you’ll earmark one room for Rose and the second for the midwife, in case she has to bunk over.”

“Right. She owns a snowmobile, but in the event of a blizzard, she’ll have to wait it out. I’ll finish laying the wood flooring in the smaller room if you’ll start painting these walls. If I don’t get them painted soon, Marlee will be out here wielding a roller herself.”

“Bring on the supplies.” Mick ran a hand over the smooth wallboard. “I don’t mind staying here tomorrow. I can easily finish a second coat while you’re at your potluck.”

“No, you don’t. I never have been gung-ho on company potlucks. In the past, too many well-meaning friends dragged over women they dug up God knows where. This time I’m actually looking forward to showing off my wife and family, but until you phoned, Marlee had jitters.”

“She never said there might be single women at this shindig. Is that why my sister’s so keen on dragging me along? She’s always pestering me to get out and find a nice person of the opposite sex.”

Wylie, who rarely laughed out loud, did so, and thumped Mick’s back. “You’d rather we fixed you up with somebody of the same sex?”

“Ha, ha,” Mick said. “I like women fine. Better than fine. But I’m picky. The woman I like best of the ones I’ve met in Montana so far, is kinda—well, probably attached to another guy. So it’s obviously not going to pan out. And since it’s not, don’t you dare spill a word of this to Marlee. She’ll be on my case until she worms out of me who it is. Then she won’t let up.”

The ranger smiled in sympathy for his younger brother-in-law’s plight. “I won’t say a word. How about I bring in the paint and rollers, while you spread that canvas sheeting.”

Mick brushed aside thoughts of Hana Egan and bent to the task of making sure the canvas covered all corners. Wylie had done a great job installing tongue and groove hardwood. Mick forced himself to focus on the room. His house could stand renovation. Rather than head for sun and surf this winter, maybe he ought to stick around and spruce up the old place.

If he did that, he wouldn’t have an opportunity to meet a suitable prospect for the position of Mrs. Mick Callen. Not that marriage was at the top of his list. Yet he envied what Marlee and Wylie had. And it was lonely rattling around that big, empty house.

He cleared his mind until Wylie returned to pour warm butterscotch paint into Mick’s roller pan. Each stroke he made on the wall unfortunately reminded him of Hana Egan’s eyes. He hurried around the walls so he could move on to the pale yellow of the smallest room, which made him think only of Stella’s homemade banana cream pie.

Mick was primed for eating by the time they were called for supper. After the meal Marlee opened all the baby gifts Mick had bought and cried over each one.

He shrugged off her thanks, grateful when Wylie asked if he wanted to stay up late to hang the flower-sprigged wallpaper down to the wainscoting in the bathroom.

Marlee and the kids came out shortly after to say good-night. “Mick, I made up the bed in Dean’s room for you.”

“Thanks. I’ll be quiet going in. I know you said we need to get an early start in the morning.”

Later, he tiptoed into the dark room. Piston and Wingman had already found his bed, and Mick shooed the disgruntled dogs off. As he listened to the wind howl outside, Mick stepped to the window to see if it’d started to snow. Deciduous trees were bare, but their fallen leaves rustled around their trunks. Fir and pine boughs swayed in the wind, and the silver moon shone cold and crisp. Turning away, he climbed between sheets heated by the dogs’ bodies and lay a moment, wondering if Hana and her pal, Jess, were sharing a sleeping bag for warmth on a wind-swept mountain that would be colder than it was here. Flopping on his stomach, he rubbed an achy hip that surely meant a change in weather was coming. He forced his breathing to slow so he could fall asleep.

IN THE MORNING, with everyone trying to use one bathroom to get ready, the house was pure chaos. Wylie didn’t want anyone showering in the new bathroom yet, although the paint was dry. Mick was relieved to see the wallpaper hadn’t slid off the walls overnight. Hey, maybe he could spiff up his house.

Marlee blew in with red cheeks after taking the dogs out. “Brr. It’s beginning to snow.”

Excited, Dean and Jo Beth crowded together at the door and looked outside.

“In or out!” Wylie bellowed. “Dean, you know enough not to let heat out.”

The phone rang. Marlee answered. She frowned and hung up. “That was Ellen Russell. It’s snowing and blowing at the potluck site. They’re moving to the education room at headquarters.”

Wylie stroked a fresh-shaven chin. “Four rangers from the outposts will have to fly in then. Makes for a crowded runway.”

“Yesterday you suggested taking the chopper. I don’t mind doing the flying,” Mick said.

“I did bring it up, but later I started thinking the chopper will be a bumpier ride than the Merlin. I’m not keen on Marlee flying at seven months, let alone in the Huey.”

She reached past her basketball belly to hug her husband. “Don’t coddle me, Wylie. My great-great-grandmother had great-grandpa Callen on a wagon train somewhere along the Oregon Trail. I’ll be fine. Taking the Huey makes sense. You and the kids and the dogs can sit on the pull-down canvas litters in back. I’ll pretend I’m copilot. But, the wrath of a pregnant woman will be on you if either of those dogs eats my pies or the lasagna.”

Laughing, they decided to load up. Soon after, Mick lifted off into pearl-gray clouds laden with snow.

At the main ranger station, the kids snapped leashes on the dogs, hopped down and were soon surrounded by other rangers’ children. Dean introduced Jo Beth. Wylie did the same for Marlee and Mick.

Thanks to Ellen Russell, Marlee was absorbed into the circle of women bustling about the central meeting room, where someone had already set up folding tables and chairs in anticipation of moving the potluck indoors.

Ever observant, Mick noticed two female rangers didn’t seem to mix with the gaggle of wives, nor did they hang with the men, who’d gone out back under a freestanding roof to pitch horseshoes. The younger of the two women had been introduced as Natalie Sweeney. She made eye contact with Mick. She had rosy cheeks and sandy hair. Pleasant enough looks, but her flirting didn’t have much effect on Mick. He escaped by detouring outside to bring the dogs in.

It’d been a while since he’d spent time in the company of a bunch of guys who liked bullshitting with buddies the way the rangers were doing. Mick laughed at their tales about campers who should never have taken up that hobby. City guys who couldn’t build a fire or even set up a tent.

Shortly after 1:00 p.m. the women called everyone in to partake of the food that had been tantalizing Mick for an hour. Everything smelled so good.

More emboldened once the married men joined their families, leaving Mick momentarily on his own, Natalie slipped between two people to reach him. “Hi, I work a couple of areas away from your brother-in-law. It’s very remote. I’d love a chance to talk with somebody who’s been out in the real world.” She twisted a lock of hair around a blunt finger. “After you fill your plate, join me? I staked out two spots in a quiet corner, away from the kids.”