Sweetwater Springs Scrooge: A Montana Sky Holiday Short Story (The Montana Sky Series) by Debra Holland Read Free Book Online Page B

tilted her head. “Even if he were to become as you fear, you have your own money, isn’t that right?”
    Marian nodded.
    “You’re not dependent on him and, thus, could continue with the kind of financial life you want.”
    The sensible words untwisted something inside Marian, and she let out the deepest sigh of relief her corset would allow.
    “Perhaps you could talk to Mr. Masters and see how he does feel…if he believes he’s changed.”
    “You’re right, Mrs. Carter.”
    The woman reached out, took Marian’s hand, and squeezed. “After such a personal discussion, I feel we should be on a first name basis. Please call me Pamela.”
    “And I’d love for you to call me Marian.”
    Pamela leaned in and briefly pressed her cheek to Marian’s. “The best of Christmas luck to you.” With a twinkle in her eyes, she waved and turned to greet a trio of elderly ladies.
    The sounds of harp music had people quieting and moving toward the Christmas tree. With his hand on the small of her back, Elias guided her to a good viewpoint, so Marian could see the harpist.
    A slight woman wearing her long, pale hair loose, with a crown of silvery holly leaves on her head, sat in front of a huge instrument playing “Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella.”
    The lilting music gave Marian a corresponding lift of her spirits. She became aware of happiness sparkling through her as warm and bright as the candlelight on the Christmas tree.
    Not until the lovely dark-haired, violet-eyed soloist sang “Oh, Holy Night” did Marian realize she was in trouble. The beautiful, rich music caused a wave of sadness to well up in her, bringing tears to her eyes. She touched her brooch as if for comfort, feeling the sharp sapphires and smooth pearls under her fingertips—the pain and joy of her memories.
    Like a shock of cold water pouring over her, Marian realized for the last hours she hadn’t been mourning. How could I allow myself to feel happy when Juliana is gone? To be eager for the love of another man instead of dear Harold’s? She clutched her grief tight, as if to hold her beloved ones close.
    Marian tilted up her face to keep the tears from spilling and sniffed once, twice, but to no avail. The wave built, and she had to choke down a silent sob.
    But she must have made a noise, for Elias glanced at her. His eyes narrowed in concern, and he slid an arm around her. “Come.” He discretely ushered her toward the back of the lobby, through the people who were so absorbed in the glorious singing that they barely glanced at the pair. He led her through a door into a conservatory where the windows were decorated in pine boughs. Faint moonlight spilled through the glass ceiling, illuminating a hanging kissing ball.
    She set her velvet bag on a nearby wicker and glass table.
    Elias gathered her into his arms.
    Marian burrowed her face into his shoulder.
    “Go ahead and cry, dearest.”
    The comforting feel of his arms around her provided a reassuring feeling of safety, and Marian released the sobs she’d been trying to hold back.
    With one hand, he rubbed circles along her back, holding her until the grief ebbed. “Is it Juliana?” Elias paused. “And Harold? You must be missing them.”
    “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She pulled away a few inches to look at him.
    He brushed a thumb under her eye, wiping away a tear. “That’s quite an answer.”
    A wobbling laugh escaped her. “I was happy and that felt wrong.” She let out a shuddering sigh and shook her head. “Foolish, I know.”
    Elias leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. “Your daughter loved you very much. I’m sure she’d want you to be happy. As for Harold, what man likes to think of his wife with another?”
    “A dying man,” Marian answered. “Harold didn’t like the thought of leaving me alone. He encouraged me to marry again. Although he did use the word wisely ,” she said wryly.
    Elias laughed, tossing back his head, and enticed a chuckle from