Her Montana Christmas. Arlene James

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      Her breath caught in her throat. But she was reading too much into that look. Surely she was reading too much into it. That wasn’t appreciation she saw in his gaze. That was just her loneliness seeking connection. Wasn’t it? Though she had never felt this sudden, electrical link before, not like this, as if something vital and masculine in him reached out and touched something fundamental and feminine in her, she had to be mistaken.

      He was a man of God after all.

      Even if she couldn’t help thinking of him as just a man.

      A shadow seemed to pass behind his brown eyes, as if he’d read her thoughts, and he turned his gaze back to the mountains, visually drinking in snowcapped peaks set against the bright blue sky and the sunshine.

      After only a moment, he smiled at her, his genial self again.

      Yet Robin felt a distinct chill that she hadn’t felt an instant before, a chill that even winter could not explain.

Chapter Two

      In an effort to hide her disturbing reaction to Ethan’s closeness, Robin turned away from the magnificent sight outside the belfry, leaned back lightly against the hip-high wall and gazed instead at the two bells attached to the crossbeam in front of her. Each of the bells was about as big around as Ethan was, but one was deeper than the other. He stretched out a foot and gave the nearest bell a gentle shove. It rocked to and fro, giving off a delightful peal that, while loud, did not threaten to burst Robin’s eardrums or move her bodily, as it had down below. The crossbeam remained steadfast. Had it ever been unsound, it was not now.

      Suddenly, the noontime recording played, a trilling carillon, one of several that played every three hours from 9:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. daily. It was neither as loud as the sound had been in the chamber below the belfry, nor as rich.

      “I did a little research after you called,” he told her when the recording stopped. “I was able to find records proving that Silas Massey and his wife not only gave these bells to the church, they had the vestibule and belfry built to accommodate them.”

      “The rumors that the bells were silenced in resentment after the Masseys left town were apparently true, then,” Robin said, frowning, “but why? Do you suppose it really did have something to do with problems at the bank?”

      Ethan shrugged. “All I know is that it’s time for these bells to ring again. I’m going to attach some ropes and prepare to use them. Wouldn’t it be great to ring these bells for Christmas?”

      Robin looked around the small, dusty space. Only the ledge where they stood was wide enough to work from, but he couldn’t reach the arm at the top of each bell, where the rope obviously attached, from here. He’d have to crawl along the crosspiece to fix the ropes in place. Meanwhile, the speakers in their wire protective cages sat tucked securely into all four corners, with the recorder that played the bell music presumably housed somewhere safely below.

      “Are you sure about this?” she asked. “I love hearing the recorded bells.”

      “So do I,” Ethan admitted, “and we’ll still use the recordings for everyday, but for special occasions, we’ll have the real bells.”

      “Real bells would be special,” Robin admitted, warily eyeing that crossbeam and the trapdoor open beneath it.

      “I’ll need your help,” he suddenly declared.

      “My help?” Her gaze shot to his. “Oh, Pastor, I don’t know.”

      “If you help me,” he said, “I can attach the ropes with the trap closed. I’m sure there must be a way to safely close the trap from up here, but I haven’t figured it out.”

      “Oh!” She clapped a hand to her chest in relief. “In that case, then yes, I certainly will help you.”

      “Excellent.” He smiled broadly. “Then I won’t have to explain about the bells to anyone else. Don’t want to start any Massey gossip now that Dale’s in town, do we? Not that there’s ever a good time to start gossip.”

      Robin nodded. “I see what you mean.”

      “I thought you would. Besides, I want this to be a surprise for the congregation. Hopefully, the townsfolk will think any extra bongs they hear around the regular bell times are part of the recordings, so they’ll be surprised when I toll the bells for Christmas services,” he went on. Then he tugged at his earlobe. “I must think of a way to repay you for all your help.”

      “You don’t have to do that,” she said, shaking her head. “Although...”

      She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. It was so nice to have someone to talk to. Olivia had become a good friend, but Robin didn’t dare trust any of the Jasper Gulch natives with her story. The pastor was an outsider like her, though. Perhaps she should tell him what had brought her to Jasper Gulch and seek his advice on what to do next. On the other hand, what would he think of her once he learned of her duplicity?

      “I, um, appreciate you showing me the view from up here,” she went on carefully, deciding not to risk it. “It is truly spectacular.”

      “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it,” he told her, moving to the ladder, “but that can’t be what brought you by this morning.”

      “No, of course not. I have some photos for you, photos of Christmas decorations from 1913, ’14 and ’15, a couple from right here in Jasper Gulch. That will give us a good idea of what materials to use, and I also have some websites where we can find instructions on how to replicate the designs.”

      “We?” he echoed, smiling. “Are you volunteering to help?”

      “I’m not a florist or decorator,” she hedged. “All I’m trained to do is research.”

      He grinned and said, “An invaluable help. So what are we waiting for? I’m eager to see what you’ve brought me.”

      She watched him disappear through the trapdoor. Only as she stood alone on the tiny platform did she realize how very cold it was up there in the belfry. Even with her coat and scarf on over her slacks and sweater, she shivered, until he called up to her, his voice expanding in the rock room below.

      “By the way, I think it’s time you started calling me Ethan. Don’t you? Lots of the people in town do.”

      Suddenly she felt warm all over. Would he dare suggest such a thing if he knew that, like all the other unattached women in town, she was quickly forming a crush on the pastor with the warm brown eyes?

      * * *

      Ethan really liked Robin Frazier. He liked her a lot. She had the charming and rare habit of thinking before she spoke. When he’d heard her voice in the vestibule, his heart had rejoiced, for he’d thought of her as he’d gazed out over God’s magnificent creation. He’d wished, quite unaccountably, that he could share the vision with her. To have her suddenly appear like that had seemed an answer to a prayer he hadn’t dared utter. Or was it?

      Ethan had long ago accepted that he would not marry. When he’d taken the pastorate in Jasper Gulch, he’d assumed that the opportunities to marry or even date would be few, but then the matchmaking had begun. СКАЧАТЬ