Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)(72)
“Thank you for that,” she said in her natural voice. Then, perching on the stool, she picked up her guitar and strummed a few chords. “This song is dedicated to a certain man. When he hears it, he’ll know who he is.”
Laughter, light and knowing, rippled through the audience. In a place like Branding Iron, juicy tidbits traveled fast. If she and Conner had been seen together even once or twice, the whole town would know by now.
Strumming a few more chords, she began to sing—in a soft, caressing voice that was more her own than Lacy’s:
“My dream of Christmas . . . is a dream of firelight. . .
And the sound of sleigh bells . . . and the fall of snow.
My dream of Christmas . . . is the warmth of laughter . . .
And the joy of children with their eyes aglow.”
As she sang, she could feel Conner’s gaze on her. He had to know the next words were for him, had to know, as everyone listening would know, that she loved him and wanted to be with him forever.
“My dream of Christmas . . . is a dream of mornings . . .
With the golden sunlight . . . on your sleeping face.
My dream of Christmas . . . is a dream of loving . . .
Making tender memories . . . nothing can replace.
My dream of Christmas . . . is you beside me . . .
As the fading sunset . . . paints the sky with flame . . .
My dream is . . .”
Megan’s voice wavered and broke. She lowered her gaze, fighting tears as she put down her guitar. There was more to the song, but she knew she couldn’t go on. A hush had fallen over her audience.
Was she finished? Should they applaud?
“Megan, look at me.” Conner was standing below her, close to the stage. His arms open, as if waiting to catch her. “It’s all right. It’s perfect. Come to me.”
She hesitated, suddenly uncertain. What did he mean? Was he asking her to jump?
He smiled. “I love you, Megan. You, yourself, and no one else. Now do what you’ve been afraid to do. Take a chance on forever. That’s how long I’ll be here. Trust me.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered. Summoning her courage, she flung herself off the stage and into his arms.
His kiss was tender and passionate—a promise made before a roomful of people; it was a very public declaration that she was his woman, and he wanted the world to know it.
As the audience broke into thunderous applause, Conner lowered Megan’s feet gently to the floor. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.
*
In years to come, when the people of Branding Iron talked about this night, they would agree that, of all the Cowboy Christmas Balls, this one had been the most memorable.
Epilogue
Six months later . . .
The repairs on the damaged church were finished by early June, just in time for Katy and Daniel’s wedding. Sitting with Conner at the end of the second row, Megan waited for the ceremony to begin. It was early yet, and the guests were still arriving, filling the pews all the way to the back door.
Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Ronda May and Sam, her boss and fiancé, taking a seat. They planned to be married here next month. And Travis was just coming in, with a glowingly pregnant Maggie on his arm. “Blame it on Hawaii,” Maggie joked to explain her condition.
Rush and Tracy had saved seats for their friends. They were celebrating good news, too. Tracy was unable to have children, but they’d been approved for adoption and were waiting for their baby boy to be born. Clara, sitting between them, was over the moon at the prospect of being a big sister.
The church organist had begun the prelude. Megan closed her eyes a moment and inhaled the scent of roses. Cut and donated from Branding Iron gardens, they filled the air with their delicate fragrance—a tribute to the sweet young couple the townspeople had embraced as their own.
Megan reached forward and squeezed her mother’s shoulder. Dorcas, wearing a new rose-colored dress, had been lifted out of her chair and placed on the front pew. Connie Parker, Katie’s mother, sat next to her, holding her hand. The two women had become fast friends. Dorcas had made other friends as well in the book club she’d joined.
The minister had taken his place. Now Daniel walked in from the side door with his father, who was acting as his best man. Megan’s brother looked self-assured and handsome in his tuxedo. Three months ago, he’d met the requirements for his driver’s license. There were restrictions—he wouldn’t be allowed to drive on the freeway. But when he’d sat behind the wheel of his ten-year-old Honda Civic, he’d looked like a man who could conquer the world. That look had been worth any sacrifice of time and money on Megan’s part.
As the organ played the opening notes of the “Wedding March,” the minister gave the signal to rise. Coming down the aisle now, on her father’s arm, was Katy. In her lovely white lace gown and veil, she looked like a little doll—but, no, not a doll, Megan corrected herself. She was a radiant young woman, moving with grace and confidence toward the next part of her life.
As they resumed their seats for the ceremony, Megan slipped her hand into Conner’s. His fingers tightened around hers. He gave her a smile and mouthed the words “I love you.”
Their turn to be married would come soon, Megan knew. First they had taken time to get to know one another, time for Megan to help Daniel and her family, time for Conner to update the house at Christmas Tree Ranch.