Free Mistletoe Courtship by Janet Tronstad

coming from the other room pulled Colter backfrom the kitchen. Empty cups were still stacked at tables around the room, but he sat down anyway at the table in the shadows. He didn’t want to interrupt Virginia. She was playing a song that had haunted him during the months he’d been gone. Many a night, he’d tried to figure out why he was drawn to the thin loneliness he heard in the echoes of that song. Virginia had played it twice when she was working in the saloon. Both times she’d looked sad, as though she was remembering things she’d do best forgetting. When he’d been gone, he’d regretted not asking her about it before he left.
    How could a song say so much, he wondered, and not use any words?
    Sorrow wasn’t comfortable for Colter, but he let Virginia take him there with her. She played the song with her whole body as she stretched out to reach keys far from the center of the piano. He had no illusions that Virginia was playing for him or even was aware he was there; he knew she was playing for herself. He was just blessed to be carried along with her.
    Time passed and Colter continued to listen as Virginia played through many classical tunes. A few of them she’d played before in his saloon, but most of them were new to him. Finally, the music stopped and Virginia looked up from the piano.
    â€œOh,” she said when she saw him sitting there.
    â€œThat was beautiful.”
    â€œI didn’t know anyone was still here,” Virginia apologized and then smiled. “I try not to play quite so many classical pieces when someone is listening.”
    â€œNever stop yourself for me. You play—” He did not know how to explain the depth of it all. “Very well. You obviously love what you’re playing and it’s very special.”
    For the first time, Colter wished he was a man with a smooth tongue. A man like that could put the feelings inside him intowords telling her what her music inspired in him. He felt a jolt—maybe that’s what Lester could do. Maybe that’s what she saw in the other man.
    Virginia pushed back the piano stool and stood up. “Thank you for saying so, but I’m sure you’re tired, too.”
    â€œThere’s still a little hot chocolate left.” Colter had held back a couple of cups of milk in hopes she’d drink some with him after everyone had gone. She hadn’t had a chance to enjoy any since she started playing the piano.
    â€œThat would be nice,” Virginia said as she walked toward the kitchen. “Just tell me where it is and I’ll get it.”
    â€œI can put the milk on to heat,” Colter said as he stood as well and picked up the small lantern from his table.
    They walked to the back room together and Colter set the lantern on the top of the cupboard where he’d stored the chocolate. Warm shadows made the plain workroom feel like home. He poured milk into a cast-iron pan and set it on the stove. The coals from the previous fire were strong enough to heat it although it would be slow.
    â€œOh, the dishes,” Virginia said as she looked at the large cast-iron kettle on the back of the stove that was steaming with water ready for washing.
    â€œI figured you’d want it hot,” Colter said, as he picked up a towel and reached over to move the kettle to the side of the stove to stop its boiling. “But we’ll do the dishes in the morning. Tonight is too—” Again he was at a loss for words. “I’d rather have you tell me about your music tonight. I can tell you love it from the way you play.”
    Virginia smiled. “I forget sometimes that I had to grow to love it. My father was the musician in our family. His teachers always praised his skill. When he was sixteen, he was invited to tour Europe with some older musicians and everyone said his future was bright. Then there was a fire in a friend’s housewhere he was sleeping. He