Winning Her Love (The Rocky Mountain Christmas Train)

2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“T ake your time, Chantal,” Joy Spencer told her daughter as they made their way toward their sleeping quarters.

“Mama, I could have waited to get on the train,” Chantal said over her shoulder. Her waist-length blonde hair swung across the back of her bulky down jacket. California was a long way from Denver, and they’d had to buy special winter clothing for this trip of a lifetime. Thank heaven for secondhand stores.

“You shouldn’t have to wait,” Joy grumbled. “People need to be more patient.”

Chantal laughed. “Mama, you are being very impatient right now. Everyone is just excited. If I could run down the aisle, I would, I’m so happy.” She giggled.

“You’re too kind to people who should be more tolerant.” Joy sighed. Chantal was fragile. She’d been diagnosed with spastic cerebral palsy just after her third birthday. The diagnosis had broken Joy’s heart, but Chantal had taken it in stride, so to speak. She was a veritable Pollyanna and not nearly cautious enough to suit Joy, who worried every moment her daughter was out of her sight. “And that man didn’t need to butt in.”

“Mama, he was being kind. He was handsome too, wasn’t he?” At seven, Chantal had decided she needed a new father since hers had abandoned them, and the ever-growing mountain of medical bills when Chantal was diagnosed.

“I suppose so, but I’ve told you, more than once, I don’t have time for men.” He had been handsome. Tall, probably over six feet, with dark hair and eyes. His jacket looked expensive. He was probably one of the tourists on the train rather than a contestant. She pushed his image out of her head. She was here to win the prize, not get caught up in a man, no matter how handsome.

Gosh, she felt like a Grinch today. She needed to lighten up. This trip was dual purpose. A free vacation and a chance to win enough money to pay off Chantal’s medical bills. As a receptionist at a veterinary clinic, she didn’t make nearly enough to live on and pay down their massive debts. If they won, they’d pay off their debts and donate any leftovers to the Cerebral Palsy Association. She’d have been lost without their guidance and support.

“Here it is!” Chantal almost wobbled over in her excitement when her crutches tangled together.

Joy forced a smile. “Careful there.” She barely resisted the urge to steady her daughter. Instead, she handed over the digital key to their accommodations so Chantal could unlock the door. She held her breath as Chantal slid her arm out of the crutch’s cuff, rested the crutch against the wall, and stuck the key in the slot. Joy clenched her fists to keep them still. She’d never get used to Chantal taking even the smallest risk.

Chantal pushed open the door and gasped. “Mama, it’s beautiful.” She grabbed her crutch and stumbled inside, oohing and aahing as she went.

Joy followed and eased the door shut behind them. She gasped in delight equal to her daughter’s. She’d been expecting a utilitarian room with nothing more than bunk beds. This was the height of luxury. Decorated in cream and navy, it was practically a suite. Over in the corner, there was a table with two chairs. There was a bar fridge, and a pair of plush twin beds piled high with pillows. There was even a tiny bathroom with a shower. “Wow. This is amazing.”

There was a tall thin tree lit with blazing multi-color lights in one corner. A garland of silver stars hung over the window. Outside, snow drifted down on the busy platform. It was a holiday dream.

Now, if only her dreams of winning this contest would come true. They could be free and clear…at least until the next disaster.

The bags they had sent ahead were set under the tree like presents. There was a cream-colored envelope with gold script on one of the beds. Joy picked it up and ran her fingernail under the seal.

Joy glanced at her snowman watch. “We better hurry if we’re going to make it to the meeting. Are you okay to move between the cars?” Maybe this trip was a mistake.

“Mo-om.” Chantal rolled her eyes like a teenager. She never called Joy Mom, she always called her Mama, just as Joy called her mother Mama. She must be annoyed to use Mom instead.

“Well then, we should go.” She studied the car list to figure out how many cars they had to pass through. They locked up and made their way forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a cheerful female voice boomed out of the intercom, “we’ll be underway momentarily.” As if on cue, the whistle blew, and the train gave the slightest lurch forward. Chantal cheered even as she wobbled.

“I’m so excited,” she blurted. “Christmas on a train.” Her laughter was contagious. “Can we read The Polar Express tonight?”

“Absolutely. I brought a different book for every night.” Reading together was a nightly ritual and blessing.

“Yay!”

Yes, she’d dragged books along. Several for Chantal and her e-reader was loaded with a dozen Christmas romances from the library. She couldn’t wait to dive into the one about being snowbound, though the thought of actually being trapped made her shudder.

The acceleration was slow and steady and, to Joy’s surprise, her daughter didn’t stumble once as they moved along, passing through accordion-fold links between cars. She couldn’t help but notice some passengers moving ahead of them, and others staying seated in the elegant dining car. Not everyone on the train was involved in the competition, like the troglodyte who had snapped at her earlier. He’d flat out said he paid to be here.

Okay, Joy, let it go. He’s in the past and you need to forgive and forget about his rudeness .

Joy’s emotions roiled like a churning sea. First elation that she might win and become debt free, second that she might fail, or Chantal might get injured. She decided to take the advice she repeatedly gave her child, reached for optimism, and shifted her fears to the back of her mind.

They entered the forward observation car where people filled every seat with a few left standing near the back. The car was elegant with oak and mahogany accents and shining brass trim. It was decorated with evergreen and ribbon swags, bright fairy lights and shining glass balls. It smelled faintly of peppermint and cocoa.

Just inside the coach’s door, a pretty blonde woman in scrubs stood beside an old man in the narrowest wheelchair Joy had ever seen. The man reminded her of Albert Einstein. It must be awful to maneuver a wheelchair on the train. Were they contestants?

At the far end, at the front of the car, a young woman dressed as Mrs. Claus stood behind a wooden podium. “Ah,” she called. “Here they are, our final contestants.”

Every head in the room turned toward them, and Joy wanted to slink into a corner for being late. She hated being in the spotlight. She was a complete and total introvert unless she was behind her desk at work or protecting her daughter.

“Here, take my seat.”

Joy turned toward the voice. The man who had stuck his nose into her argument stood and gestured to his chair.

“Go ahead, Chantal,” she said. Chantal wasn’t weak, but the short walk on a moving train hadn’t been the easiest for her. “Thank you, sir,” Joy said.

“Seth. Seth Mathison.” He raised one eyebrow as if waiting for Joy to provide her name. When she didn’t, he stepped aside so Chantal could sit. Joy leaned against the back wall and glanced out at the city slowly passing by through the enormous arched windows of the observation car. She couldn’t wait to be staring out at snow-covered mountains. She’d never seen snow before they arrived in Denver yesterday. The sight still thrilled her. Even the dirty, slushy city snow.

Seth leaned beside her. Not too close, but close enough she could just get a hint of his minty fresh breath and light spicy aftershave. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye. He was clean-shaven and wore jeans and a simple navy hoodie with a tiny logo she didn’t recognize. He looked casual and comfortable. Not like many of the others who seemed either excited or tense.

He nudged her and nodded to the front of the room. She realized that while she was gawking, their hostess had begun her talk.

“Welcome, everyone. I’m Jenny. I’ll be your hostess for this trip. If you need anything, look for me, or for one of our service staff members. You’ll recognize them by the lapel pins they wear.” She held up a shining pin. Even from the back, Joy recognized it as the train company’s logo.

Jenny went over some housekeeping details and meal schedules. “Our dining rooms are large, but not enormous. You’ll be given a schedule of your assigned mealtimes. There are always snacks in the lounge car, and you can request food at any time. Remember, this is an all-expense paid trip for the contest participants.” She paused. “And for the family members that accompany them.”

There were only four other children that Joy could see. Two looked to be about twelve, and two were toddlers. Nobody close to Chantal’s age. Maybe there were other children onboard who weren’t involved in the contest. She sighed. It would be okay; this was the perfect time to bond with her daughter, and their information package had mentioned daily activities.

“Now, onto the contest.” Jenny rubbed her hands together and grinned. “This is going to be so much fun.” She looked around the car. “As you know, first prize is twenty-five thousand American dollars. Second prize is ten thousand. The funds will be donated to the winner’s pre-approved charity.”

Since Joy’s application had been accepted, she assumed that paying off her daughter’s medical bills met the contest’s criteria. She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer to God, and to the Spirit of Christmas, that she’d have what it took to win. Working two jobs was taking away from her family time, and lord knows she’d love an evening all to herself with no other commitments.

“As you know, you’ll be assigned a task to complete during the course of the journey.” Everyone nodded. “What you might not know is that you’ll complete your task with a partner. Everyone has been paired up by our benefactor.”

“Who is the benefactor?” someone up front called out.

“Can we choose our own partner?” A deep male voice asked.

“Our benefactor wishes to remain anonymous.” Jenny adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses. “You will work with the person you are assigned. Failure to do so will result in disqualification.”

“I hope I’m paired up with someone good.” Seth’s whisper danced along Joy’s nerves. He had the greatest voice. Deep and husky, it did something delicious to her insides and set off a chain of longing that she hadn’t felt for years.

“Me too,” she whispered back, silently hoping to be paired with someone who wouldn’t have an issue with her daughter’s limitations.

Joy raised her hand.

“Yes, there in the back?” Jenny peered over her round gold-rimmed glasses.

“What if you don’t have the same charity?”

“We’ll discuss that problem if it crops up for the winners.”

“Will we be paired with someone with the same charity?” Joy asked nervously. She needed this money so danged badly.

“Not necessarily. Our benefactor has done the pairing. There will be no disputing your partner. Remember, this is about charity. It’s about fun. It’s about the magic of Christmas, and the fullest enjoyment of all the season offers.” Jenny went over a few more rules, all of which had been outlined on the contest’s entry form.

“As you can see,” she waved toward the window. Across a snow-covered field, brilliant white-capped mountains seemed to glow in the sunshine. “We’ve passed out of Denver. Please enjoy the scenery and take advantage of the many offerings on our train. Get to know your fellow passengers. This is a wonderful time to make new friends. You will be notified of who you are paired up with shortly.”

“Wow,” Seth said. “That left as many questions as answers.”

“I wonder how they plan to pair us up. I wonder what the tasks are,” Joy mused.

“And when we’ll know who our partner is. What’s your charity?” Seth asked.

Heat flooded Joy’s face. She hated to admit that she was the charity. “The Cerebral Palsy Association.” A partial truth. They’d get what was left over after she paid the medical bills. “You?”

“The Alberta Children’s Hospital’s burn unit.” His brows pinched together, and the corners of his lips turned down.

“That’s a great charity. Nice choice. Does it have special meaning for you?” she asked as people filed out past them.

“I’d rather not discuss it. Have a wonderful trip.” He nodded briskly and walked away. He took a seat near the front of the car and stared out the window.

She snorted in disgust. What was with him? She reviewed their brief conversation. The burn unit kept repeating in her mind. He must have lost someone. How tragic was that? Compassion flooded her heart. Seth Mathison was a man who needed a bit of care, and she hoped he found it. And she hoped he wasn’t her partner for the contest.