A Montana Christmas Reunion. Roz Denny Fox
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a military guard.
Jewell sensed eyes boring into her back. She felt on display because this short set of seats was separated from the longer row behind by eight or ten feet of empty space. This was too much. She felt imprisoned, and why? She yanked out Leland’s letter, zipped her purse and started to ask her apparent jailer to deliver it before insisting she had to leave. But as she rose from her seat, a younger guy pulled Donovan aside and began gesturing and whispering. Then he departed through a side door to the left of the stage.
Waving the letter, Jewell attracted Donovan’s attention. “I came here primarily to give Saxon a letter from his uncle. I’m from Saxon’s hometown. Frankly, I don’t know why his uncle didn’t mail this. Maybe Saxon travels too much,” she offered lamely.
“Keep it. I have orders to take you backstage after the performance. Lance just said it may be a short concert due to the hurricane landing sooner than expected.”
“Heavens, then I really need to give you this and go. I have to drive back to my hotel in DC.” She managed to unhook the gold rope but dropped the letter. She bent to retrieve it, but Donovan scooped it up and tucked it in his suit-coat pocket as the lights dimmed and blinked twice and a disembodied voice from above asked everyone to take their seats. “The concert begins in two minutes.”
Stepping over the rope, Donovan scooted Jewell into the adjacent seat, and after growling, “Stay,” which reminded her of how one would address a dog, he plopped his big body into the seat she’d just vacated.
A hush fell over the theater. Overhead lights went lower still, this time to a muted golden glow. All at once blinding spotlights in multiple colors pinged around a stage where a small band now appeared holding various instruments.
Jewell didn’t want to feel eager, but it was the only way to describe the flutter of anticipation that clutched her. And when Saxon bounded onto the stage with guitar in hand, she was transported back to watching him emerge in similar fashion to perform so many times in the past. She’d loved him then. Now she was starstruck. He exuded a commanding presence as he stepped to the front of the stage, smiled and clipped the leather strap of an acoustic guitar around his neck. The audience went wild.
After he’d strummed a few chords, his gray eyes found Jewell. His smile softened momentarily but then hardened. In that first moment, the love she’d so desperately tried to stamp out flooded back, filling her with a desire to return to the past where their connection had been simple and natural and—she’d assumed—forever.
Someone slid a stool onstage. Saxon half sat on it and then began to play and sing. Jewell, who used to believe he had a good voice, sat mesmerized. His voice had deepened and mellowed. If he still wrote the songs he sang, as he’d done back when she was his primary cheerleader, his lyrics now were decidedly more emotional.
It’d been a long time since she’d seen him perform in person. Never since he’d become famous. After the first time she’d heard him on the radio, she had blocked the pain by telling herself she was too busy to listen to music anyway. Because her work required short jaunts between ranches, it wasn’t worth turning on her pickup radio. But if she were being totally honest—country music had always been her favorite, and frankly, she’d been afraid if she heard Saxon singing any of his early tunes, she’d start blubbering.
She was near to weeping now.
She began to wonder about this song that dealt with loneliness and suppressed love, or lost love. Had she ripped apart Saxon’s heart? After all, she’d been the one to break things off—to surgically end their relationship.
At twenty-one, she never thought he would have ever expected her to realign her life to follow him. Everyone who knew her knew being a vet in Snowy Owl Crossing was what she’d planned and prepared to do from the time she was old enough to dream.
Now, listening to Saxon’s voice grow thick on a chorus about broken promises, Jewell trembled under his almost icy scrutiny. It was patently obvious that he had zeroed in on her. Was he taunting her? It seemed not to matter how tense his jaw was—his voice remained seductive. She was carried back to college days when he’d sung her parts of new songs, and it had frequently ended with their making love.
Uncomfortable, she shifted in her seat. But noting a hush fall over the crowd, she turned slightly to glance behind her. A row of women stared openly at her with envy, because as Saxon began his next number, it couldn’t be more evident that he sang the love song to her.
All at once a photographer who’d been taking pictures of Saxon and his band suddenly knelt and snapped off a battery of her. Blinded, Jewell jerked aside. And she worried about where those photos might appear and what they might reveal on her face—the rapture, the love she hadn’t been able to completely abolish.
Listening as he crooned her name, she felt her nervousness increase tenfold. Partway into the second verse, she thought, Phew! There was no way the people in the audience could know that the jewel he mentioned—like a vibrant diamond he longed for—was her. Only she was aware how many times in the past he’d kissed her and jokingly called her his million-dollar gem. At least, she used to assume it was a joke because they’d laughed together.
More uneasy, she flipped up her jacket collar to hide her burning face. Why was Saxon doing this? He hadn’t held her in years. He hadn’t called or tried to contact her. And she was quite sure he hadn’t been a monk since they’d parted.
Relief washed over her when the song ended—enough for her to actually relax as Saxon announced that he would sing his latest hit next.
Concertgoers clapped and shouted. Some whistled catcalls. But Saxon had barely run a thumb over his guitar’s strings when the man who’d first introduced him burst onstage through the back curtains. Grabbing the microphone, he said, “I’m sorry to tell you all, but the hurricane has reportedly made landfall, bringing bands of heavy rain. We need to cancel the rest of the show. As we told each of you at the outset, Saxon and his band appreciate how so many of you ventured out given the unsettled predictions for Althea. Unfortunately, we hear many streets are flooding, which has taken officials by surprise. I spoke with local authorities, who suggest you go home if you live nearby or seek accommodations in this city for tonight. Local motels will offer discounts if you show them your concert ticket stub. Everyone, please take care. And we’re sorry. Staff will give each of you a free CD at the door.”
Behind her, Jewell heard gasps and the sound of feet retreating up the aisles. She stood, intending to follow. Donovan leaped up to talk to another man. Suddenly he glanced around and beckoned her.
“Please remember to give Saxon the letter. Tell him I enjoyed the show but I have to go.”
The man blocked her exit. “Saxon is waiting for you backstage.”
“You don’t understand. I need to see about a room, because it sounded as if I’d be foolish to try and drive back to my hotel in DC until this storm passes.”
“Watching the stampede of folks out of here, you’d be wise to let someone on Saxon’s team secure accommodations for you.” Then without waiting for her to agree or object, he clasped her upper arm and all but dragged her through a set of black velvet curtains near the stage. Saxon’s band had already cleared out with their instruments.
He stood in a hallway gesturing and talking to a couple of those same band members. Donovan whisked her along, barely letting her boots touch the floor. He didn’t stop until her shoulder jostled Saxon’s upper arm. “One lady friend delivered as ordered,” the man announced.
It didn’t surprise her to hear Saxon huff out an exasperated-sounding, “She’s an old friend, not some item I ordered off a menu.” As if to make a point, he swept her up and swung her around until excitement built inside Jewell like it had when they used to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair. Then he unceremoniously plopped her down and went on talking to a young man holding a guitar.
Her