Page 53 of Rebel Moon

I laughed, looking around the empty room. “It’s just you, me, and the Christmas tree.”

“Another possible song title?”

He didn’t wait for me to answer. Instead he captured my mouth in his, and everything else faded away. I let myself be there in the moment, feeling safe and cared for. However long it lasted, I would let myself have it.

13

KNOX

December 15

Caroling Hayride into Blue Fern

Morning fog · Afternoon clearing

Supper: Grilled Sausages · Elliot’s Hot Cocoa

Who knew that falling for a woman in secret at a month-long wedding would improve my geography skills. I knew where Madeleine Price was at all times. Where she was. Where I was. How many people stood between us and whether any of them were looking. I could walk into the lodge and find Madeleine in half a second flat without ever turning my head toward her. I just knew, the way you know where the warmth is in a cold room.

Time seemed to be moving forward at a rapid rate. We begged off most of the group activities over the next few days on account of my ankle. Instead we spent nights at the lodge talking in front of the fire. As much as I enjoyed my buddies, spending time with Madeleine was more fun. Now that our truce had formed, we couldn’t seem to stop talking. I’d told her more stories about my childhood and she’d done the same. We shared a few details about former relationships, but neither of us had many of those.

Madeleine and I did participate in the gingerbread barn activity. We were partners, of course, because Ivy James might look like an angel but she had an evil streak. I’ve got to say, the whole gingerbread thing was impossible. We couldn’t get ours to even stand up and finally, in a fit of laughter, decided to eat the candy instead of putting it on our sad, sagging barn.

My ankle got better each day. By Luci’s birthday on the fourteenth I could walk without the crutches, although carefully—and a little stiff. Luci pronounced me cleared for reasonable activity. Then shot me a look like she knew exactly the kind of activity I had in mind.

It was the best stretch of days I could remember. The only blight was all this hiding. We’d agreed to keep it quiet for the sake of the wedding and the band and all that, but I was growing tired of pretending I wasn’t an expert on the geography of Madeleine Price. I wanted, more and more, to stand up in the middle of supper and tell every person at the table that I was in love with the most extraordinary woman in the world. I didn’t say it, but boy did I want to. Who would have thought what a few weeks in Montana could do to a guy?

Because, yeah. I loved her. I’d loved her a long time. That’s the big revelation the big sky whispered to me, and I’d finally slowed down enough to hear it. Not that I had any idea where any of this was headed. I simply pushed thoughts of reality aside and let myself enjoy being by her side.

On the fifteenth, the group was scheduled for a hayride and caroling into town. The plan, such as it was, was to head into Blue Fern and carol down Main Street, like a rolling choir. The boys and I had talked and decided there was no reason why we couldn’t load speakers and microphones onto the trailer. Beck hauled his electric keyboard on board; Grant had a tambourine and bells for percussion; Jack, Ivy, and I had our guitars.

We set off in two big wagons hitched to draft horses, our entire crew bundled in blankets and heaped in loose hay that smelled like summer in the middle of December. They’d strung the wagons with lights, making it all seem like a rolling festival. Finley had sent along several thermoses of something hot and spiked that were currently being passed around.

I sat between Jack and Madeline, guitar in my lap, grateful I could leave the crutches back at the ranch.

Ivy began to sing. “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” And then Jack came in under her, and then all of us, down the valley road toward the lights of town.

Turns out singing and strumming in an open wagon in the cold with the people you love is pretty much my idea of heaven.

We came into Blue Fern over the stone bridge and rolled onto Main Street. Seemed like most of town had come out to hear us. That’s a small town for you. You can’t sneak a caroling hayride into a place like Blue Fern. Word had gotten out. There were people on the sidewalks, kids on shoulders, shopkeepers standing in their lit doorways. When the wagons stopped in front of the old bank and we started singing “Silent Night,” the whole street went quiet to listen.

Jack took the lead on it with that voice that could gentle a crowd like no other. With his encouragement, the townsfolk started to sing too, creating an almost holy space.

I thought, as goosebumps traveled up my arms, I’ll remember this the rest of my life.

After we sang three carols, Jasper Moon came out of the crowd. “Our little church up the road is available for a concert. It’s a whole lot warmer than this sidewalk. If you’d do us the kindness.”

“Good idea, Mr. Moon,” someone shouted.

“Let’s do it,” Ivy said, bouncing on her hay bail.

Jack grinned and said, “Mr. Moon, we’d be honored.”

And the whole street—I’m talking the entire street—cheered. People fell in behind the wagons on foot, walking us up the road like a grand Christmas parade toward a little white church with its steeple lit gold against the dark and a giant wreath hanging over the awning.

“This is the best moment of my life,” I said to Madeleine.

“It’s hard to beat,” she said, beaming at me.