Meg's Best Man: A Montana Weekend Novella (10 page)

Joshua chose him as his best man. What did that mean? It meant that he was either a very good guy or he was one of Joshua’s rescue cases. It could mean anything. But he could quote her book by heart! And his unbelievable honey-brown eyes lit up when he talked about his nephew. There was something about a man who didn’t just love his nephew but actually seemed to enjoy his company. He wasn’t too cool for kids. He wasn’t too cool for contra dancing, getting dunked, or being someone’s valet. And for a girl who had never once in her life been the cool kid, that meant something.

Did she make up the way he looked at her, or did he just look that way at every girl? Or at every maid of honor? No. He had singled Meg out, but there was something more between him and Brie, and from the moment she had showed up, Meg had become just another wedding guest to him. Was Brie his girlfriend? If so, why hadn’t they arranged flights from Austin together? It didn’t matter. Anyone who was attracted to a woman like Brie couldn’t find much about a girl like Meg to keep his attention.

And what was worse was that she was a “good girl.” The longer she went without casual dating, the less she found she wanted it. She didn’t really get the whole dating thing at all. It was confusing, time-consuming, and expensive. From what she heard, from a man’s point of view that made her frustrating, demanding, and unrealistic.

Meg was gazing down the barrel of her thirties with no home, no kids, no prospects, and she expected the right man to materialize out of thin air. Where? In her camper? Someone like Gage didn’t fit there, anyway.

Meg’s heart stopped for just a moment.

There wasn’t any place in her life for a man, unless he was an unmitigated slacker. He would have to follow her around from job to job or sit at home in her apartment waiting for her. She didn’t have a lawn for a man to mow or a mortgage a man could pay. She paid her own bills, however stingy her life was. She didn’t have any kids that needed a dad. She didn’t even have a dog for him to walk. And except for weddings, she didn’t need a dance partner.

Every single thing in Meg’s life was something she could handle just fine alone. And as clearly as she could see her own paintings on the walls, she knew that if she made room for a man, she’d have to live a life that she couldn’t handle alone. He’d have friends and family of his own. They’d have neighbors, bosses, and a church family, and she couldn’t do as she pleased when she pleased. Just the thought of a mortgage payment made her want to hyperventilate. What if he wanted four dogs?

She wondered if Gage liked dogs. Then she caught herself wondering about Gage and marriage all at the same time and she moaned again, loudly enough that she hoped it would chase the thoughts away. Oh, she wished she had some coffee.

Meg stayed that way for a long time, trying not to think about anything at all, and let the last few thoughts she’d had settle down and stop yelling at her. After her mind quieted down, she finally sat up on her bed and took stock of the situation.

In order of importance, she wanted coffee. There were so many other worries that she could hardly keep them straight—her parents, running out of water, her brother, her next job, that pesky Texan and the lovely maid of honor, and more. But as she tried to sort it all out, she knew that more than anything else, she wanted to have an idea for a second book before she told anyone else about the first.

She did not want to leave anyone, including Gage’s nephew, expecting something she couldn’t provide.

There was a time when Mouse the Moose stories popped up in her head daily. She would think about difficult things kids dealt with—whether it was something that happened to her or a kid she knew—and just write. Like today. She would imagine Mouse had been invited to a party by the new kid at school, but when the new kid spent the rest of the school day with a different friend, Mouse felt left out and didn’t want to go to the party.

Because that’s what she wanted, to just stay in her trailer and skip the party. She pulled out her sketch pad and drew Mouse trying to peek around a tree. He leaned so only one eye showed, but of course his antlers stuck out on either side. He was trying to look at his friend playing with someone else. Brie, her name was. She drew a wheel of cheese, giggled, and then erased it because it made her feel vaguely guilty. Long, red hair… of course, she’s a fox. Because she’s a fox. Meg laughed out loud. She’s fast and sleek and Mouse would feel like a big doofus next to her.

What did the new kid look like? Well, there was no Montana critter taller and gawkier than a moose, and that species was already taken. But he could swim, too. There were no dolphins in Montana. She could make Gage a northern pike, a big, ugly, hook-nosed fish with sharp teeth. No, that made her feel guilty again. He had amber eyes and he was fast. Maybe he would be a wild mustang. She drew him cavorting in a creek.

He was beautiful. She’d certainly want him as a friend.

She glared at the drawing. Mouse the Montana moose would feel stupid and want to stay home from the wild mustang’s party. If it were her child reading this story, if her child had a wounded heart, would she want him to stay home or go to the party? Kids could be mean, whether or not they were trying to. Certainly they were cliquish. She’d want two things: for her child’s heart to be safe, and for her child to be brave.

She’d put him in his favorite shirt, let him wear his favorite slippers, cover his face with mommy kisses, and give him a cell phone so he could call her every five minutes. Meg put her head in her hands. No wonder she didn’t have any kids. She’d warp them.

Mouse would retreat to his favorite bog. He’d have a moss and cranberry sandwich. The eagle might fly by. That eagle knew a lot, because she had raised twenty-seven chicks. She would tell him that he just might have fun at the wild mustang’s party, and he should give it a try. And he should bring something that made him happy, so he would be happy even if everyone else was boring.

Nothing makes a moose happier than moss. So he would dunk his antlers in the water and come up looking slimy and green. Or he would look like a Christmas tree.

That’s it! It would be a Christmas party. Mouse would look silly, but he’d pick up cranberries, mistletoe, icicles, and all sorts of other decorations on his way to the party. By the time he arrived he would be the life of the party.

And it would turn out that the fox liked cranberries and the wild mustang liked moss, and Mouse would share his snacks with them. Meg could see it now. There would be things the wild mustang liked to do with the moose, like run fast and jump fences. Maybe the fox and mustang liked their own games together, and the book would make it clear that it’s okay to have different friends and share different interests.

Meg frowned. Clearly the book had a life of its own. It didn’t have anything to do with her own situation. She had no plans to wear moss to the wedding, it wasn’t Christmas, and it was definitely
not
okay if the wild mustang liked to cavort with the fox once in a while.

She looked out the window and felt grumpy about the wedding, and when she looked back at the table she saw it covered with drawings. There was a story here, and images that made her smile. When Monday came, she would have something to tell her publisher. The sense of excitement and relief bubbled up inside of her. It came out first as a prayer of thanks, and then it ended up being a full-on Snoopy from Peanuts happy dance as she sang, “I have a story! I have a story!”

Having that worry lifted from her shoulders was even better than drinking coffee.

She remembered then that she had a couple instant coffee emergency packets in her cupboards. She boiled the water, made a cup, smothered the nasty taste in hazelnut syrup and milk, and enjoyed it. The taste of coffee made her remember her Bible. She plopped it down in the middle of the Mouse drawings and took her time reading. After a little James and a little Proverbs she was feeling imperfect but peaceful. She set down the empty cup and opened the one tall cabinet in her camper. It was ten inches wide and held all long things, including a broom, an extension grabber, a nice skirt, and one dress with the tags still on it. She pulled out the dress and hung it over the door to get a good look.

It didn’t look like much on the hanger. It was gray with short, cap sleeves and a subtle silk ruffle along the neckline. But the fabric was gorgeous, rich and soft, and it fit like it was made for her. She couldn’t wear hiking boots with it. And she couldn’t drive her Jeep up to the crowded meadow in front of Joshua’s cabin. She stared at her boots, which were tucked under the edge of her bed. She should wear them with jeans, and a ponytail, something nice and simple.

She thought of Mouse hiding behind the tree. That’s just what she would be doing if she wore that.

The alternative was the dress, this same one that called her when she was out shopping for a nice performance fleece jacket, luring her in with its flawless fit, fetching drape, and vintage styling. And heels. Vintage patent leather shoes with an interior made like tennis shoes. What brilliant person thought that up? They were so comfy she had purchased the red ones, the only color in her size. She imagined herself hiking up the steep, rocky road. They would be scratched. She’d probably get sweaty, get bitten by horse flies, and then break an ankle.

Meg needed another cup of coffee. By the end of it she decided that taking a shower didn’t necessarily commit her to wearing the dress, it just bought her a little more time to decide. So she took a very quick shower and put on some shorts and a T-shirt.

Now what about her hair? Brie had taken her power station, and now she had a travel hair dryer with a DC plug and nowhere to plug it in… except the Jeep.

That was how she came to be sitting in the driver’s seat with her Jeep running, stereo on, singing into her knees with her head upside down and out the open door. And when she flipped her hair back and looked up, she saw Gage standing about ten feet away with something large and blue on his shoulder.

He was grinning at her, and just the look of it made her blush from her hair to her toes. She was about to admonish him about something, like sneaking up on her or spying on her, when she realized he was carrying a five-gallon plastic bottle of water. Her jaw dropped. “That’s heavy,” she stated.

“True,” he said, his voice strained. “May I please dump it in your water tank so I don’t have to carry it anymore?”

Meg finally jumped into action. She hurried as fast as her flip-flops would go to the inlet, which was right next to the door of the camper. Then she got out of the way. He set the bottle down on the ground and stretched for a second. “It’s not bottled water. I just used an empty one and filled it from the well, if that’s okay. I figured you might be getting a little low.”

“That’s perfect,” she said. “Did you carry that all the way down from the cabin?”

“Nah,” he grinned. “I hitched a ride to the end of the road; someone had to go down to their car in the valley.” He picked up the awkward and heavy bottle and poured it into the tank. “It’s not much,” he said as the last drops went down.

“Five gallons goes a long way for me,” she smiled. “Thank you so much.” Ah, amber-brown eyes, lashes longer and darker than a boy’s ought to be, and hopelessly messed-up dark hair. What a combination. He smiled right back at her for half a second, and then he cleared his throat, stepped back, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I’d better go. When are you coming up? There’s extras for lunch if you want something.”

“No thanks. I was going to stay out of the way a little longer.”

He nodded, picked up the bottle, and said, “You’re not in the way. For Leah, I mean. Well, you’re not in my way either, if you want to be up there. Not that I’m telling you that you have to, of course. But you knew that. Okay, I’m leaving now.” He turned and headed briskly back down the logging road.

That was strange.
When Meg was done watching him go, she went back to finish her hair. She had the little converter for her phone charger in the Jeep, she realized, and she could plug in the little travel set of hot rollers if she wanted to. That wouldn’t be committing to anything. She could still wear curly, tousled hair with jeans.

In the back of her mind she was thinking: He had brought her water. And he had even walked part of the way. When those thoughts threatened to bring on another happy dance, she remembered something: that wild mustang was on his way back up to the fox.

It was getting hot, especially for the mountains. Meg had eaten a small lunch, done her hair and makeup, and tried on the dress. One look in the mirror and she knew she was going to wear it. There were only as many chances in her life to get dressed up as there were friends and family members getting married, and this was the only wedding this summer.

She put on the heels and dropped a jacket into her messenger bag. On her way out the door she remembered the wedding present.

It was heavy with a rustic wood frame, so she slung the bag back over her shoulder, hefted the painting into her arms, and started down the old logging road. She thought about something she had read in Proverbs that morning: “When you walk, your steps will not be hampered; when you run, you will not stumble.” However inappropriately, it had made her think about this very road. Of course it was meant to be metaphorical, but here she was, on a real road, carrying a big painting she was beginning to think was a stupid idea for a present anyway.

She hadn’t stumbled yet. She made it to the end of the logging road and stood there, staring at the driveway to the cabin, which was much steeper. One of the guests, maybe even a friend, would drive by, or she might have to switch shoes and walk it. As she wondered just how literal “stepping out in faith” had to be, she heard a car engine. It sounded like her Jeep. Her heart raced a little and she looked downhill, where the sound was coming from.

Around a bend came the exact twin of her old Jeep. And at the steering wheel was her brother, Mark.

After she put the wedding gift in the backseat and he gave her a hug, he pinned her with a quizzical look. “Did you know I was coming? Because I didn’t even know.”