First Love

by Lisa Jackson

  He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it and leaned a shoulder against the mantel. “Good—just remember what that bastard and his father did to this family.”

  Her head snapped up and she pinned him with a glare meant to cut steel. “I haven’t forgotten, Ben, but it’s time to bury the past, don’t you think?”

  “Never.”

  “It’s Christmas.”

  “So I’ve heard,” he said cryptically.

  “Well, I’ve at least come to terms with what happened. You’d better, too.”

  “Why? So you can marry the bum?”

  Her spine stiffened. “No. It’s over with Hayden.”

  “You wouldn’t do anything as stupid as marry him, right?”

  “Marry him?” she repeated, her heart tugging. “I don’t think you’ve got to worry about that.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “He hasn’t asked you?”

  Her heart thudded painfully. “It won’t happen, Ben. Don’t worry about it.” The bell on the stove rang softly, indicating that the cookies she was baking were done. She left the package to take out one sheet of apple squares and shove in another of pumpkin bars.

  The house smelled of warm cinnamon and nutmeg, fragrant pine and bayberry candles. A fire blazed in the hearth; the Christmas tree glowed warmly in the corner, its lights reflecting in the windows. Everything was perfect, except the house seemed empty. Even with Ben here. The boys were still with Sam, and Hayden…God only knew where he was and what he was doing. She glanced out the window, past the snow falling upon the dark waters of the lake to the pinpoints of light she knew were burning from the Monroe home.

  She didn’t hear Ben approach. His voice startled her. “More snow’s been predicted. Looks like we might have a white Christmas.”

  A lonely white Christmas, she thought, burning herself on the hot cookie sheet as she brushed up against it. “Hmm.”

  Ben found a knife and cut himself a gooey apple square.

  “Help yourself,” she said, teasing, as she handed him a napkin. “Milk’s in the fridge. Or I can make coffee—”

  He waved away her offer. “Don’t bother.” When she glanced through the window again, he said, “You’re really hung up on that bastard, aren’t you?”

  “I told you I’m not seeing him again. I told him so tonight.” Glancing back at him, she saw the ghost of a smile touch his thin lips. “But if I change my mind, I expect you to keep your mouth shut about it.”

  Ben smiled coldly. “You always did have a way with words.”

  “So did you. Now, come on, make yourself useful. I bought new bikes for the boys, and you can put them together. I’ll even make you something to eat. Something more than cookies.”

  “I’m not all that hungry. I’ll just have another one of these—” he said, and winced as he grabbed the knife. For the first time she noticed that the knuckles on his right hand were swollen. “What happened to you?” she asked, and he cut another bar from the pan.

  “I, um, had a little altercation down at the Silver Horseshoe.”

  “A fight? You’ve been in town less that twenty-four hours and you’ve already been in a fistfight? Didn’t you learn anything while you were in the army?”

  “The guy had it coming.”

  “Oh. Okay, sure,” she said sarcastically as she peered into the oven. “Who was the guy and what did he do?”

  Ben didn’t say a word, just looked at her and she knew. Her heart sank. Her brother had rolled into town, run into Hayden and promptly tried to punch out his lights.

  “You already saw Hayden? That’s how you found out about us?” she said, sick at heart. “What happened?”

  “He tried to buy me a drink.”

  “And you hit him. Nice, Ben. Real nice.”

  “He had it coming,” he said, rubbing his wounded hand with his fingers. “Has had for years.”

  Nadine shook her head. One part of her wanted to run to Hayden, to see that he was all right. The other wanted to slap her older brother across his self-righteous chin. “So you took it upon yourself to defend my honor.”

  Ben rubbed his jaw and for the first time seemed slightly contrite. “I couldn’t help it, Nadine. The bastard said something about marrying you.”

  * * *

  BEN’S WORDS HAD stuck with her. Marriage? Hayden was talking about marriage?

  She couldn’t still the beat of her heart, and expected him to show up on her doorstep. But he didn’t. Nor did he call. Nadine was beginning to think that Ben hadn’t heard Hayden correctly or that Hayden had been teasing Ben, just to get a rise out of him.

  She considered calling Hayden, but didn’t. Nothing had really changed. Though Hayden had mellowed a little on his stance about children, he still didn’t want to be tied down. Never had, never would. He’d said as much.

  Nadine slept restlessly, thinking of Hayden, and Ben left early the next morning to spend the day looking for an apartment he could rent, as well as visit their father.

  Nadine kept herself busy cooking and cleaning, wrapping a few presents and putting the finishing touches on the house. By the time the boys arrived home, she wanted everything to be perfect. She glanced across the lake more times than she could count and found herself listening for the whine of Hayden’s Jeep’s engine.

  The phone rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She answered with a breathless hello and was disappointed when Sam told her he was running a little late; he and the kids were at a Christmas party and he’d bring the boys home a little later.

  “When?” Nadine asked.

  “Does it matter? There’s no school tomorrow.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Don’t worry, Nadine. They’ll be home in a little while.”

  A few hours later, Sam was true to his word. He brought the boys into the house and dropped their overnight bags in the middle of the living room. His face was red and his eyes a little glazed from too much partying. Snow melted off his boots and clung to his collar.

  “Hey, Mom, there’s already presents under the tree!” Bobby said, his eyes as round as saucers.

  “A few from me.”

  “Any from Monroe?” Sam asked, his eyes as cold as the December storm.

  Bobby was already checking the brightly colored packages. “Santa’s still gonna come, isn’t he?”

  “You bet. I baked some cookies today and you and I will make a special batch tomorrow.”

  “Aw, Mom, there’s no such thing as—” John started to protest, but Nadine cast him a sharp look that shut him up.

  Sam lingered, taking in the cozy room and frowning. “The boys say you’re pretty thick with Monroe.”

  “We’ve seen a little of each other.”

  He lifted his hat and rubbed his head. “You might as well know that I don’t approve.”

  “I figured that,” she said, bristling.

  “And don’t tell me it’s none of my business.”

  “What I do with my life—”

  “I’m talkin’ about the kids, damn it. They’re seeing entirely too much of the guy.” Sam was getting angry, and the drinks he’d obviously consumed had begun to affect his speech. He waved one arm wildly to make his point. “That son of a bitch is gonna close the mills—”

  “He wouldn’t do that, Dad,” John said.

  “What would you know about it?”

  “I like him. He’s a good guy.”

  “What he is,” Sam said, weaving a little, “is a no-good, pampered rich bastard, and I don’t like him buying fancy things for my boys.”

  “It’s not like that, Dad,” John argued.

  “You back-talkin’ me?” Sam asked, lunging a little as he caught John by the collar.

  “Let go of h
im!” Nadine stepped in front of her son as if to use her body as a barrier. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on him,” she warned.

  But Sam was suddenly mad at the world. “You’re too easy on the kids. Git out of my way.” He tried to push Nadine aside, but she held her ground.

  “You’d better leave.”

  “Why?” He rolled back on his heels and smiled sickly. “So you can entertain your rich boyfriend?”

  “That’s enough!”

  Sam’s glazed eyes narrowed in hatred. “So have you given it to him yet? You always wanted to. Don’t think I didn’t know it. Every time we were in bed, you were thinking about him, imagining that I—”

  “Stop it!” she cried, marching to the door and opening it. Cold wind crept in and the fire stoked higher. “Go on, Sam. Go sleep it off.”

  “I think I’ll stay here. Too dangerous for me to drive.”

  “I’ll call someone.”

  “Come on, Nadine. Let me stay. For old times.” His grin turned into a leer and he started for her, but tripped on the edge of the rug. “Goddamn it,” he said, reaching for anything to keep his balance. He stumbled over the coffee table, caught hold of the branch of the tree and grabbed on, but the little Christmas tree was no match for his weight. It toppled to the floor and one branch fell into the fireplace. With a rush of air, the dry needles ignited and flames consumed them.

  “Oh, God! Sam, watch out! Boys, get out quick!” Nadine cried, and when her sons stood immobile, she screamed. “Now! Outside, run over to the Thornton’s, have them call the fire department!”

  Trying to get free of the tree, Sam was screaming. Both boys took off through the front door and Hershel gave chase. Nadine ran to the kitchen, grabbed the fire extinguisher and started spraying, but it was too late, the fire had caught on the rug and curtains. Flames leapt high in the tree and though Sam was free, his clothes were on fire. He was screaming horribly.

  She didn’t hear him arrive, but suddenly Hayden was there, shouting orders, yelling at her to go outside to the lake, kicking at the tree with his boots and dragging a writhing Sam from the conflagration.

  Adrenaline pumped through Nadine’s bloodstream, she grabbed a photo album and her purse from a table, and then she, in horror, helped Hayden drag Sam outside, down the rise in the ground, toward the lake. They yanked off his clothes, leaving him in his underwear. His screams filled the night and snow melted on his skin.

  Nadine glanced frantically around for her boys in the darkness, but they and the dog had disappeared and her little cottage, her pride and joy, the only possession she held dear had become an inferno and reflected in bloodred shadows on the snow.

  “You’re gonna be all right,” Hayden said to Sam.

  “Help me. God Almighty, help me.”

  “Help’s coming.” Hayden took Nadine’s hand. “Stay with him but give me your keys.”

  “My what—?” But she was already digging through her purse. In the distance, she heard the first wail of a siren.

  Hayden stripped the keys from her shaking hands and ran toward the house. She screamed at him until she saw him climb into her little Nova, back the car as far from the conflagration as possible and park.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, still searching the night for her children. “John? Bobby? Please, please—” They wouldn’t have run back into the house, would they? Searching for her, the boys wouldn’t have gone into the kitchen through the back door?

  Terror squeezed her heart and she heard Sam moan. Dropping to her knees she tried to hold his hand and comfort him, keeping snow against his skin as she searched the darkness.

  Hayden jogged back to her as the first window exploded.

  “Oh, God—the boys?” she cried.

  “They’ll be fine,” he said, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her forehead. “Thank God. Just hang in here. Be strong.” In a second he released her and was bending over Sam. “Help will be here soon.” And for the first time Nadine realized how close Sam had come to death. She heard her children running along the shoreline with the neighbors, and thankfully Jane Thornton, a nurse who worked at the county hospital and lived on the south shore of the lake was with them. She immediately tended to Sam as Nadine gathered her boys close.

  Flames shot through the dry roof of the house, flickering red fingers reaching hellishly toward the black night sky, and tears began to fall from Nadine’s eyes. Everything was gone. Everything she’d worked for, every possession she’d held dear.

  “You’re safe now,” Hayden whispered into her ear.

  “But the cabin—”

  “It can be rebuilt.”

  “No, I—everything’s in there—”

  “Not everything,” he said, his voice rough, tears glistening in his eyes. “You’ve got me. And the boys. Forever.”

  She glanced up at him, hardly daring to believe him.

  Sirens wailed closer. Firelight shone in his eyes. The stench of smoke filled the air. Trucks with firemen rolled into the yard. An ambulance slid to a stop and paramedics quickly took over, helping Sam. Within minutes they’d taken him to County Hospital after assuring Nadine that he would survive.

  She watched for over an hour as the firemen doused the flames and her cabin was reduced to a dripping, blackened skeleton.

  When the firemen finally left, tears drizzled from her eyes. “It’s gone,” she whispered. “It’s all gone.”

  Hayden held her tighter. “I came here to ask you to be my wife, Nadine, and when I saw you in the fire, that there was a chance I could lose you, I…I knew I’d never live without you. Marry me.” He kissed her on the lips. “Please. Tell me you’ll be my wife.”

  “I—”

  “I love you,” he said, and his face was serious with emotions that burned deep in his soul. “Make this Christmas our first as a family.”

  She laughed and cried at the same time. Relief mingled with happiness as snow settled on the remains of a cottage where she’d brought her children into the world, suffered through her divorce and made love to Hayden.

  Her gaze drifted over his shoulder, past the dark depths of Whitefire Lake to the lights glowing in the distance. Her new home. With Hayden.

  Her throat so thick she could barely speak, she gathered her boys close. “I guess we get to start over,” she said, her eyes shining as she stared into Hayden’s eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

  EPILOGUE

  FROM THE LANDING on the stairs of her new home, Nadine tossed her bridal bouquet to the crowd gathered in her foyer. A scream of delight went up when Carlie Surrett caught the flowers.

  Half the town had been invited to the hastily planned wedding, including the Surretts, in an attempt to mend all the old rifts. A pianist was playing love songs on the baby grand in the living room and guests mingled and danced, talked and laughed and sipped champagne.

  As she descended toward the crowd, Nadine spied Hayden, dressed in a black tuxedo, his eyes as blue as a summer morning. “It seems to be some pagan tradition that we dance,” he whispered into her ear.

  Nadine smiled up at him. In the living room, they started the dance, with a crowd of onlookers watching. Tiny white lights were strewn in the potted plants and twelve-foot Christmas tree in the corner. Eventually, one by one, other couples followed their lead. Heather Brooks, draped in shimmery pale blue, danced with Turner, who, dressed in a Western-cut black suit, his blond-streaked hair unruly as ever, winked broadly at Nadine. “I get the next dance,” he said, and Hayden grinned. “Not on your life.”

  Rachelle and her husband, Jackson Moore, took a turn about the floor and Rachelle’s hazel eyes were full of a secret only a few people knew. In the spring, she and Jackson would become parents. She laughed up at her husband and he held her with a possession that bordered upon fierce.

  “Everyone’
s happy,” Hayden said.

  “Mmm.” Even her father, sitting in the corner chair, was talking and laughing with Ellen Little, Heather and Rachelle’s mother, and Nadine’s heart warmed.

  Only Ben seemed out of place. Grudgingly, he’d accepted Hayden as his brother-in-law. Since Hayden had decided to stay in Gold Creek and run the sawmills he’d inherited, not as his father had from a distance, but here, as a citizen of the town, Ben had decided he might turn out all right.

  The fact that Hayden approved of his new wife’s career and was willing to help her get started with her wearable art had convinced Ben that Hayden wasn’t all bad.

  Even John and Bobby were having a good time, though John spent entirely too much time at the punch bowl with Katie Osgood.

  The music changed, and Hayden drew his wife through the French doors to the back deck. “Hey… What?” she asked, as he led her, running through the snow and dark night, down a lighted path to the shores of the lake. “Are you crazy?” she cried, as he pulled her to the ground and her dress was suddenly wet from the snow.

  With a devilish grin, he scooped up a handful of the icy water and held it to his bride’s lips. “Drink,” he ordered, “and let the God of the Sun or whatever bless us.”

  “I think he already has.” She sipped the water from his hands and looked deep into his eyes. “You’re going to be a father.”

  “I’m what—?”

  “John and Bobby won’t be the only children,” she said, and watched as he blinked rapidly.

  “Oh, God.”

  “Happy?”

  In answer, he drew her into his arms and kissed her long and hard, but she pulled away, and giggling, offered him a scoop of lake water.

  “Don’t be greedy,” she said, as he touched his lips to her palm and the water dripped through her fingers.

  “Me?” His blue eyes sparked with an inner fire and his fingers twined in her hair, dragging her face to bare inches from his own. “There’s only one thing on this earth I can never get enough of, lady,” he vowed, his voice growing gruff with conviction, “and you may as well know that one thing is you.”