Under the Christmas Moon

By Bryan Mooney

In White River Junction, Vermont - Christmas is all about family, traditions, and snowfalls. A massive winter snowstorm has closed all the roads and airports out west just days before the holidays. Marine Sergeant Garrett Jackson is on his way back home to Montana, but he now finds himself stranded in the town's local bus station. And then he saw her.

Every year, the Maguire family, in keeping with the Christmas spirit, search for stranded travelers to welcome into their home for the Christmas holidays. Howard Maguire and his daughter Megan invite Garrett to spend the holidays with them and their family. Garrett lost his own family many years before and had forgotten what a traditional Christmas was like. For as long as he could remember, the military has been his only home, his only family.
Megan Maguire eagerly shows Garrett around her hometown, rekindling in him what a real family Christmas is all about. As they spend more time together, he soon comes to know her, and his feelings for her grow stronger. But during his visit, they both must make decisions before it is too late--decisions that will affect their futures and their hearts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryan Mooney
• Release date: Nov 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005541941

Bryan Mooney

Bryan Mooney is the author of Christmas in Vermont, Once We Were Friends, Love Letters, A Second Chance, and other romance novels, as well as the Nick Ryan thriller series. He spent years traveling the globe for both business and pleasure, and he draws upon those experiences in his writing. Originally from the Midwest, Bryan now lives in sunny South Florida with his childhood sweetheart and longtime wife, Bonnie. When he’s not penning romance novels and thrillers on the beach, he and his wife love to travel. Connect with Bryan at www.bryanmooneyauthor.com.

Book preview

Also by Bryan Mooney

Christmas Books

Christmas in Vermont

Bells of Saint Michaels

A Christmas Flower

Contemporary Romance

Love Letters

Summer of ’68

Been in Love Before

Once We Were Friends

A Box of Chocolates

A Second Chance

Mystery Thrillers

The Potus Papers

Eye of the Tiger

Indie

Contents

Also by Bryan Mooney

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

And now an excerpt from Bryan Mooney’s book, Christmas in Vermont

This book is dedicated to my wonderful wife – Bonnie

Thank you for your patience.

Chapter One

A crack of lightning struck the snow-covered trees high in the hills behind their home, soon followed by another filling the Maguire house with brilliant flashes of light. Thunder crashed outside again. This time it lasted longer, was brighter, nearer. The house seemed to shake. The lampshade rattled as the lights flickered off and back on.

Wow, that was close, said Megan Maguire, looking out the window, sipping on her hot cocoa as she sat cross-legged in her favorite chair. Again, the sound of thunder rolled down the river valley like a bowling ball rolling down an alley—with a long rumbling growl. The wind began to blow, and snow began to fall with more lightning striking nearby. Her dad always called it ‘Thundersnow.’

A Christmas blizzard and ice storm was battering the West and Midwest, closing every airport, train station, and highway in its path, while paralyzing travel across the country. But in the few days before Christmas, the small town of White River Junction, Vermont, was having only light snow, accompanied by thunder and lightning. People here were accustomed to snow in the hills and mountains of Southern Vermont. It was winter: Christmastime.

Megan sat across from her father, Howard, who was relaxing in his favorite recliner. Her mom and Aunt Ellie sat next to one another on the sofa as the entire Maguire family listened intently to the local weather report on the television.

This storm out west could be a real nasty one if it reaches us, Meg muttered aloud. Very bad. We’ve already had six inches of snow so far this week. The snow on the front porch, whipped by the winter winds, nestled in the corners, like a miniature ski slope with its graceful curves and valleys.

Ralph Nears, the usually staid and quiet weatherman at WRJT, was the most animated he had been in years on the local news channel. He had big news to report to his audience of the sleepy town of White River Junction. Merry Christmas and good evening, folks, this is Ralph Nears. This snowstorm is being called a once in a century blizzard sweeping across the plains out west, dumping snow and ice in amounts unheard of in that region, he reported, trying to catch his breath. The expression on his face went from cloudy to joyful at having winter weather as a top news story. But it may have little impact on us here in White River Junction—it’s still too early to tell.

Alice Maguire, the family's matriarch, leaned forward towards her daughter and said, Megan, turn up the sound on the television. I can’t hear what he’s saying.

Okay, Mom, she replied while the entire family leaned in, straining to hear him.

Me neither, Meg, chimed in her Aunt Ellie.

Megan smiled and turned to look at the grin on her father’s face. He always said in jest, If my wife Alice said it was snowing green snow outside, her sister Ellie would chime in to agree with her. Then he would laugh so hard until his wife Alice gave him the ‘look.’

The two family dogs, Jingles, an eleven-month-old Dalmatian puppy, and Bailey, their nine-year-old basset hound, looked up from their beds before sniffing and lying back down in the comfort of the warm corner near the fireplace. As a puppy, Jingles was always ready to go outside and romp in the snow. He loved to jump into a pile of snow and disappear, with only his black charcoal spots betraying his location. He nudged the older dog lying next to him, but Bailey was content to lay by the warmth of the fire and snooze, in no hurry to make his way out onto the snowy porch. Too cold.

Megan searched the TV stand and soon asked, Aunt Ellie, do you have the clicker?

A befuddled look crossed her aunt’s face.

The clicker? You know…the remote for the TV? Megan asked again.

Oh, that thing. The doohickey? I had it here somewhere and set it down, but honey, I just don’t remember where. Sorry, dear. Can you turn it up, so we all can hear it?

Sure, Ellie, Megan said as she flipped the dial on the side of the TV. Ellie always seemed to be losing something- the remote, which was continually missing, along with car keys, reading glasses, and cell phones. But they always turned up, sooner or later.

It continued to snow lightly outside, as was usual in wintertime in White River, but the mention of a western blizzard, and a strong one at that, always caused orchard growers in the small Vermont town to sit up and take notice. And the word ‘ice’ always seemed to grab their attention the most. Heavy ice on fruit trees caused the larger branches to snap and break under the hefty weight. But lightning was most feared, striking the older, taller trees and causing the most damage; it was certainly not a friend to orchard growers.

Howard and Megan glanced nervously outside to check on the weather. The front window panes were slightly frosted. Bits of snow had already accumulated at the bottom of the windowsill, and the front porch hand railing had a three-inch high ridge of white snow on top. Howard watched the lightning strike again, high on the hill.

Alice, his wife, caught his worried glance and asked Howard a question, with just a nod. In their own language of thirty-plus years of marriage, he nodded back that everything was okay. He and Meg would personally check their precious trees first thing in the morning. Never a word was spoken, just a nod. That’s all that was needed.

As the owner of a four-hundred-acre orchard and tree farm, he had to be alert if any of their trees got damaged. The pine trees and maple trees at the top of the mountain were sturdy and could weather the heavy snows, but the others could be a different story. But they were safe, for now, he hoped. He smiled at his wife Alice, and she knew everything was okay, as they both returned their attention to the television weatherman, Ralph Nears.

Standing in front of a national weather map, Ralph showed his audience the immense size of the storm battering the west. Pointing to the weather map, he said, This slow-moving storm is dumping massive amounts of snow and ice on the western plains. It’s hitting Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming before heading east and hitting Utah and South Dakota, then making its way across the plains into the Midwest. It may slow down or even stall, as it continues to dump massive amounts of snow across the Midwest. He pointed to the animated map behind him for effect before continuing his weather report.

This storm will be followed by another monster system coming up from the southwest, which will give it a one-two punch across the far west and the Midwest, hitting areas including Missouri, Kansas, Illinois, Ohio, and Indiana before it heads east…towards us. Out west, you can expect massive travel delays and cancellations all across the country as the domino effect ripples everywhere, crippling all modes of travel in the region. It’s going to be a real mess for all those holiday travelers trying to get home this weekend for Christmas Sunday.

His co-anchor, Heather Dunne, asked the question that everyone in the Maguire household and elsewhere in southern Vermont wanted answered. Well, Ralph, what does that mean for Vermont and all of us here in White River Junction?

Glad you asked that question, Heather, he said, turning back to the map and pointing to a small H on the map, hovering over the state of Texas. "You see this high-pressure system here? Well, it could influence what will happen to us over the upcoming days. It might drive the storm straight towards us, or the two storms could merge and create a superstorm wreaking havoc everywhere. Or it might even push northwards, towards our Canadian friends north of the border. It’s too early to tell at this point, but this storm is already causing extensive tie-ups at airports and train stations all across the country. Flight cancellations and other massive disruptions on highways and anything that moves will be affected as the nation west of us shuts down for the next couple of days. Over the next few days, we will get our usual share of snow, but we will have to wait to see what happens with these snowstorms out west.

Heather interjected, But Ralph, aren’t they used to getting snowstorms out west? Can’t they handle the cleanup and keep the roads and airports open?

Ralph smiled at his assistant. You’re right, Heather. I lived in Colorado for a few years, when I was in the army, and they can clean up the roads quickly, just like we can here in Vermont. But nobody can keep the streets clear during a blizzard of this magnitude. Three to six inches an hour is a nightmare scenario.

He turned to point to the weather map behind him. And on top of that, you have two storms, back to back. Everybody will just have to hunker down. There’ll be many stranded people tonight and for the next couple of days leading up to this Christmas holiday weekend. The only bright side is that most folks out west, and here in White River, will have another white Christmas. And if you’re stuck inside, I suggest you bake more cookies, wrap more presents, and make snowmen in the backyard. So until tomorrow, this is Ralph Nears signing off until the eleven o’clock news. Good night, friends and neighbors, stay warm White River Junction.

Good night Ralph, good night Vermont, responded Heather.

The whole Maguire living room echoed the age-old response to their longtime weatherman. Good night, Ralph! Good night, Heather!

Alice then asked her daughter, Meg, you want to give me a hand setting the table and getting dinner ready?

Sure, Mom. Megan walked behind her mother, her long brown hair tied together in a ponytail barely held together with a cracked brown hairclip. Weather sounds pretty bad, doesn’t it?

Yes…but I feel sorry for those poor folks out west. All that snow. Can you imagine trying to get home and being stuck in an airport, train, or bus station for days on end trying to get home…at Christmas time?

Yes, she said absentmindedly, her thoughts already trained on something else. Terrible, she muttered aloud.

Megan set out plates, glasses, silverware, napkins, and coffee cups around the table. Don’t forget the cream and sugar, her mother sounded.

Got it, she said as she opened the refrigerator door looking for the pitcher of cream, and on the lower shelf in the rear, she found it…next to the television remote!

Chapter Two

The hoarse sound of air brakes coming from the snow-covered Greyhound bus echoed loudly throughout the station. The bus from eastern New Hampshire had arrived. Over the loudspeaker came the announcement, The four-forty-five Greyhound bus from Concord, New Hampshire has now arrived on platform three.

Soon the swinging double glass doors flew open, and a steady stream of riders made their way through the bus station. Snowflakes and swirls of snow followed them inside. Patches of ice clung to the outside portion of the door as it swung inside the terminal. An older woman dressed in a long black coat shuffled inside and looked around the station waiting room before taking a seat on the bench near the front door. She lowered her old brown leather suitcase to the floor and sat down to wait.

Marine Staff Sergeant Garrett Jackson, still wearing his winter camouflage uniform, glanced at his watch as he stretched out his tall frame on one of the cold wooden benches in the nearly deserted waiting room. Five o’clock. He had been waiting for hours. Only about two more hours to go before he would leave for Kansas City, then catch another bus to Billings, Montana, before going onto his last bus home—to Mustang Flats. Just in time for Christmas. It had been years since he had been there for Christmas.

He had never celebrated Christmas much in the Marine Corps, other than with the occasional hot meal of turkey or ham, mashed potatoes, beans, beets, and hot pies when stationed stateside. But in his Mountain Recon Unit, that rarely happened, since his assignments took him around the globe, many times to places where locals had never heard of Christmas, much less celebrated the holiday. Marine MREs were not an unusual meal for him at Christmastime.

Shifting in his seat, he reopened the book he had been reading and settled in for a long wait. His stomach emitted a long, low growl. Garrett was tired, hungry, and thirsty. He’d eaten lunch earlier in the day at a nearby Chinese buffet restaurant, and the rumbling sounds in his stomach told him that one meal there was more than enough.

Garrett looked out through the station windows and watched the snowfall. It reminded him of Mustang Flats…home. Not a lot of people, but lots of sky and lots of snow. He had to laugh to himself because months earlier, he had wished for colder weather as a break from the scorching desert heat and ever-present sand in a joint training exercise in the desert. Now he got his wish, no more heat, and no more sand. Now just lots of snow. Cold snow. He smiled as he remembered what his father had always told him, Careful what you wish for, son. You may well wind up getting it.

Garrett wished he was home. But where was home? Mustang Flats? The ranch was sold, now just the cabin remained. Mom and Dad were long gone. The Marines were his life and his family, his home, but now he was considering leaving the Corps. Maybe it’s time to muster out. He had put in his ten years, he thought to himself. Or should I stay for another ten years? Fifteen? Go for the full twenty? Retire young with a full pension. Make it a career? Become a lifer? It’s the only home I’ve ever known—the only family I have.

He was joined on the worn wooden bench by another waiting passenger, an older man, well-dressed, wearing a long grey down jacket over a Pendleton wool shirt and snow-covered, thick, rubber-soled boots. The balding man noticed Garrett’s Marine uniform, smiled at him, and grunted the traditional Marine greeting, Oorah! Semper fi gyrene. They both immediately understood; the Marine blood brotherhood stayed with you for life.

Oorah! Semper Fi, responded Garrett with a smile while extending his hand. He was always happy to meet a fellow Marine.

Name’s Toby. Many years back, I was in the First Marine Division—last assigned to the Marine Expeditionary Force, Sixth Fleet. But I’m going many, many years back.

Garrett whistled, Good people, sir. Real good people.

I know, Toby said, looking around the nearly deserted waiting area. Where you comin’ from, son?

I’ve been doing mountain training for the Marines for the last nineteen months in the Taurus Mountains in Turkey. Before that, I was an instructor at MCMWTC.

The man gave him a puzzled look. Most people were unfamiliar with his group. Garrett smiled and explained, It’s the U.S. Marine Mountain Warfare Training Center out west at Pickel Meadow—Mono County, California, sir.

His new friend looked puzzled. Where is that?

Garrett elaborated, North of Walker Mountain, near Lost Canyon.

Oh, he responded. Well then, I guess you’re used to all this snow?

Yes, sir.

Goin’ home?

Yes, sir…trying to. If I can ever get out of this place.

Been travelin’ long?

Feels like years. Traveled from the Taurus Mountains to Istanbul on a military transport. Then flew to Frankfurt, then Barcelona, to Miami, then to someplace in New Jersey. Next, they told me all the flights goin’ out west were canceled because of the blizzard out there. So, I took a bus from New Jersey to New York, then a bus to Boston, then one to here. Then they started shutting down some of the bus routes before I got here. Now I’m booked on a seven o’clock bus to Kansas City, on my way to Billings, and then back home. Just don’t know if I’ll ever get there.

Yeah? Where’s home?

Mustang Flats, Montana, sir.

The man gave him a quizzical look, one Garrett often got. I’ve been on hiking trips out west in the national forests a few times, mainly in Arizona, Montana, and Colorado. Beautiful country, rugged but beautiful. I must say, though, I’m not familiar with Mustang Flats.

Most people aren’t familiar with it, but for me, before I join the Marines, it’s always been home, said Garrett. Right after I was born, my dad bought a ranch on the Yellowstone River south of Yankee Jim Canyon; a couple clicks below Carbella…just south of Big Sky, Montana.

Oh, said the man, still wearing the bewildered look. Only been there twice and usually stayed around the big cities, like Helena, Billings, Missoula.

Well, Big Sky has a population of 2,308, but Mustang Flats has only one hundred twenty-two…countin’ the horses, cattle, and dogs. Carbella is even smaller.

So, going into Big Sky is a big deal. The big city?

Yes, sir, responded Garrett with a chuckle. But it’s a long way to go to find people. If that’s what you’re lookin’ for.

The older man smiled and nodded his head before asking, Home on leave?

Well, sir, yes, and no. I muster out at the end of the year, the end of my rotation.

So you’re leaving the Marine Corps, are you?

I’m thinking about it. But I thought it’s time to go home first, take a break, do some thinkin’ and make some decisions. Decide whether to reenlist for another tour of duty—or retire from the Marines. Just not sure if that’s what I want to do. It’s just, I been in the Corps for ten years, and being a Marine gets in your blood. He took in a deep breath. It’s the only family I’ve known for the last ten years. In the end, I’ll probably just relax for a week or so before I sign my reenlistment papers. Then see where Uncle Sam sends me next.

I understand. He looked at the young Marine and asked, So you goin’ home?

Yes sir, back to Mustang Flats. Back home. The words hung in the air as he thought to himself. Home? Always had been home, but less so after Mom died. And then Dad passed and…

A woman walked into the bus station's front door and ran towards the big man sitting next to him. Her boots were covered in snow, and her broad smile was framed by her long auburn hair drifting off her shoulder. She was nearly in tears, shouting his name. Toby! Toby!

He ran to her and hugged her, then kissed her,