On A Cold Winter's Night

by Leanne Burroughs

  "You could always stay here overnight."

  "And leave Trixie alone? Not in your life."

  "You treat that dog better than you ever treated me.” She laughed. “Just kidding, Dad. You were the best father a girl could have. You drive cautiously. Ring me when you get home,” she bellowed over the wind.

  "Will do,” he called back.

  She closed the door and headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on for hot chocolate. Now that he knew, would Archer forgive her? Did it matter? She had to admit, it did.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Four

  * * * *

  Airline schedules were back on track. Archer stood in the TSA—Transportation Security Administration—line, boarding pass and ID in hand. Two weeks past Thanksgiving, but he decided to put his agenda and patients on hold for the next few days. It had taken every ounce of fortitude he had to push thoughts of Noah and the other crazy woman from his mind while meeting with his patients, but he needed these days off. Perhaps he should arrange to meet with a psychologist friend for a session of his own. Nah! He could handle it. Hopefully.

  Laughing, he handed the officer, who gave him a strange look, his papers and passed to the inspection line. Computer out of the bag, he placed it in one bin and pushed it forward, hopping on one foot, then the other, as he removed his shoes, and then his coat, setting them in a separate bin. The line moved forward and he was cleared. The plane took off without a hitch, the flight was uneventful, and the Southwest Airlines’ captain put the wheels down smoothly. Amazing to think a thousand miles could be reached in a few hours. He watched out the window as the plane taxied to the terminal.

  Coat across his arm, laptop case strap on his shoulder, and pulling his rolling suitcase, he spotted his mom waving her arms. He hurried from the secure area, dropped everything, and grabbed her up, swinging her around.

  "You look terrific, Mom. Whatever you're doing, keep it up."

  "Oh, you're always so good for my ego, Arch.” Returning her to the floor, they walked arm in arm out to her car.

  At her condo he took his luggage to the bedroom he stayed in when visiting her. Then they caught up on much needed time together.

  * * * *

  Seated at her desk, Noah poured over the file of papers they'd gathered on Suzanne Newman and Archer Webster. She sank back into her chair. He hadn't called, so why was she bothering to examine the case? Because he interested her? Yes, that, but she had to admit the sparks that ignited within her every time he crossed her mind. Which—much to her consternation—was frequent.

  She picked up his picture—one Chris had printed from the Internet—and stared at it. Even in still life his eyes spoke volumes, and in her mind she could see the jaunty smile that often appeared on his handsome face. A lot of his attraction was his eyes. Wonder why he isn't married? According to the information they'd pulled up, he never had been. Then again, neither had she. Not really all that unique nowadays. He was a transplant from Atlanta. Had been a practicing psychologist in New Jersey for several years, then moved to Allenvale. So what did they call people who moved north from the south? Sunbirds? And she'd guessed right about him being younger than she. By two years. She set his photo aside.

  Suzanne Newman. Speaking of birds, now she was a weird one. Chris had obtained a rap sheet from the local police department on her. Five or six aliases. Not even from around here, she'd only lived in Allenvale for the last few months. And according to the info, she wasn't married, nor did she have a daughter. So what was the twenty-six year-old woman trying to pull? Noah flipped through the list. Quite a few of the charges were for forgery, and there was one dropped charge for impersonating a missing person.

  A seven-year old girl had been abducted in 1992. Case had gone cold until several years ago when the mother had posted details on the Internet describing the girl and offering a reward for information leading to finding her. Pictures of the child and a computer model of her as an adult had been on the Web site.

  Noah examined the adult rendering and the one of Suzanne Newman. She could see the similarities. Obviously something Ms. Newman had also noticed. That's when Suzanne had appeared, saying she believed she was the missing child. A lawyer—convicted of a minor felony and released by the judge with the stipulation he perform community service at Social Services—had been assigned to investigate. A trust left to the child by her grandparents remained inactive since she'd been missing. That too had been made public by the mother. It's a wonder a flock of twenty-somethings hadn't sprung forth. As trustee, the bank required proof of the girl's identity before they'd release the monies to her. Suzanne must have thought she could weasel her way through to get the money, but between the lawyer and bank officials, they'd prevented it from happening. She soon walked away, leaving the mother who'd accepted her at face value broken hearted for a second time. Unfortunately, the mother refused to prosecute. Noah set this file aside, too.

  Nothing she could do until Mr. Web . . . Arch . . . wanted her to take the case. She felt obliged to inform him of what Chris had turned up. A call to his home phone received the answering machine and she'd left a message. He hadn't called back. She sighed.

  * * * *

  The wood piled high, fat lighter under the logs, Noah struck a match and held it to the balled up paper. Flames spread rapidly, igniting the resin pine sticks almost immediately. She sat on the hearth, letting the warmth infuse her. Soon the fire caught the smaller logs and traveled on to the larger ones.

  Too hot to continue sitting in front of the blaze, Noah moved to the couch, kicked off her slippers, and tucked her feet under her as she watched the flames lick upward into the chimney. She pulled the afghan from the back of the couch and snuggled it around her body as she sat trying to figure out what was going on with herself. Occasionally, she'd rise and stack another one or two logs on the fire.

  Never had she desired for a man to call her, but here she sat with her house phone and cell laid out side-by-side on the coffee table. How ridiculous to act like a teenage school girl. She was a grown woman, for heaven's sake. Every few minutes she looked at the phones as if willing one to ring. She continued to sit, thinking about Archer and why he hadn't called, when the calming of the fire's warmth and movement of flickering flames made her eyelids heavy.

  When the phone rang, she almost fell off the couch reaching for it. Grabbing the phone, she started to say, “Hello,” but heard the dial tone. Of course, that wasn't the telephone's ringtone. She snagged the cell, still holding the phone to one ear. Wait, the noise wasn't coming from either. It was the doorbell.

  "Dad, what a pleasant surprise. Come in.” Taking his coat, she asked, “What are you doing out and about?” She draped his coat over a dining room chair and gave him a long hug.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Just had my baby girl on my mind and thought I'd stop in and pay her a visit. What're you up to?"

  "Sitting in front of the fire. Actually, I'd just nodded off when the doorbell rang.” She headed to the kitchen. “What can I get you? Something hot, something cold, or in between? I have most everything."

  "Coffee would be great. Anything to warm one up."

  "You got it. I could use some to wake up myself.” She poured water in her little coffeemaker and added grounds. “This four-cupper will only take a few minutes."

  "Yes,” Dad said, “then we can take our mugs and go enjoy that wonderful fire I passed heading this way."

  Dad, sitting in the chair by the fire, sipped from his mug. “I sense by your quietness, baby girl, that you're sitting here by yourself doing a lot of thinking."

  Ensconced in her previous position, she set her cup on the table, swung her legs to the floor, and sat up straighter. “And you, as usual, are correct."

  "I'm not going to be nosy, but if you want to share, I'll listen. If you want advice, I'll give it.” He laughed.

  She chuckled at his forthrightness. “If there's anything I know about you, Dad, it's that you'
re always handy with advice. Thank goodness, I've never known it to be bad counsel.” She turned serious, her lips going from a smile to a straight line. “I've got all these mixed up emotions about Archer. It's a way I've never felt about anyone before. And that has me more than puzzled. I barely know the man.” She buried her face in her hands, something she seemed to do a lot lately. “I don't know what's going on inside me,” muffled out.

  The couch cushions sank beside her, and Dad put his arm around her shoulders. “Honey, sometimes love doesn't sneak up on you gradually. It comes at you like a bull, grabs you, and doesn't let go."

  Stunned, she looked up at him. This slow moving, slow talking man had never spoken to her about love or so succinctly on any subject. Oh she knew he loved her and she knew he'd loved her mother, but he'd not talked openly about it.

  He stood and ambled to the fireplace, staring at the picture of her mother hanging above the mantel. His back to her, he asked, “Did your mother ever tell you how we met?"

  Staring down at the coffee table, trying to remember, she finally lifted her head. “No. If she did, I don't remember it."

  Still with his back to her, he laughed. “Yeah. She probably thought you knowing about it might embarrass me, but it wouldn't. You know Anna was a few years older than I, right?"

  Not wanting to do any more than acknowledge his question for fear he'd stop talking, she merely said, “Yes, I knew that, Dad."

  "Anna had graduated and returned for an alumni meeting my senior year. We'd been in the cafeteria, which was crowded that day because of the meeting, and she asked if she could sit at the table where I was eating. Of course, when a beautiful woman asks that, you hardly turn her down.” He moved slightly away from the fire, but continued to stare at Mother's picture. “Anyway, we talked, and she gave me her telephone number on a slip of paper. When I got back to the dorm that evening and pulled stuff out of my pockets, that slip of paper fell out. I picked it up and set it on the nightstand. When my roommate came in and found me sound asleep, he saw Anna's name with a telephone number. Repaying me for a practical joke I'd played on him, he went out and called her on the dorm's phone, saying I'd given her name to him and telling him she looked like an easy mark."

  "Oh no.” Noah could just imagine her mother receiving such a phone call. “She'd have put him in his place in a New York minute."

  Dad turned from the fire, smiling. “You're right about that. Not only did she ream him out—which I didn't find out until later—but it took me three weeks of phone calls and several bouquets of flowers from a florist, to even get her to consider meeting me for coffee. Let alone going out on a date. But my charms must have finally broken down her resistance,"—he chuckled and turned back to the fire—"cause she did agree to date me. The rest is pretty much history. I knew from the moment she sat at that cafeteria table that my heart was lost to Anna.” His voice caught. “My love for her only deepened as the years went by too swiftly. And then, when I lost her, I lost half of myself."

  Spellbound, Noah watched him turn back to face her, tears glistening in his eyes.

  "That's what happens when you lose your earthly soul mate. It's an emptiness I pray you never suffer. Oh, I know you suffer at her loss, too, baby girl. But it's different."

  At that moment, Noah knew it was true. Through her father's shared grief, she saw that in the short time she'd known Archer Webster, she'd fallen in love with him. When had it happened? When he'd climbed up behind her on the ladder, when he'd banged into the door, when she'd put an icepack on his head?

  She stood and hurried to her dad's side, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you, Dad, for sharing this with me. It's made me see things in a different light."

  "One other thing you should understand. Although I've lost her here, I'm assured by my faith in God that I'll be with her again. If it wasn't for that assurance,"—he pushed her away and stared into her own tear filled eyes—"and for you, I don't know how I would've survived all these years."

  Unable to hold back the tears, she cried in his arms. For his loss, for her own loss, but then happy tears, with the realization of what she'd found.

  * * * *

  Fifteenth of December

  Arch again passed through TSA and boarded the homebound flight. The extra long weekend had done wonders, both for his outlook and his health. And Mom's, too.

  What it hadn't provided was escape from thoughts of Noah. In his case, absence had definitely made the heart grow fonder, or at least his brain couldn't shield the continually occurring images of her. As much as he'd counseled against love at first sight, he was reconsidering that advice. Love! He'd only encountered the woman twice and everything he'd known about her until the last five minutes together had been a lie. What was he thinking? No! He was not afflicted with love at first sight. Absolutely not.

  Sitting in a window seat, he stared out as the plane prepared to land at Pittsburgh International. The distant snow covered mountains brought his mind back to the question: What was he going to do about Suzanne Newman? Not the majesty and beauty of the white-capped peaks, of course, but the cold-heartedness of someone to make such unfounded accusations. At least he should touch base, if only for the last time, with Noah Adams to seek what legal approach he should pursue. Yes. One final occasion to set eyes on her beautiful face.

  If education, experience, and his personal philosophy had taught him anything, it was that any relationship begun on a lie was doomed to failure. Was a course correction possible? He shook his head as if that would clear the webs she'd spun throughout his entire being. Could she possibly have a semi-reasonable explanation of why she'd lied to him? His own amiable nature told him he had to find out. Had to give her the opportunity to explain. If possible.

  After landing and deplaning, he hurried from the secure area. He spied Calli and Jacob in the waiting area. They'd driven him to the airport and were picking him up. Jacob had wanted to use Arch's SUV to haul stuff from Home Depot, which was fine with him. With all the inclement weather they'd encountered the past month, he hadn't been too gung-ho about leaving his vehicle in an airport parking lot. Energized by the thought of another encounter that could put this entire episodic adventure in the past, he hoped Jacob sped back to Allenvale.

  Hugs were exchanged. He kissed Calli's cheek, then held her at arm's length. “How're you doing?” She absolutely glowed.

  "Great as can be expected. I am definitely ready to have this child."

  He laughed. “Well, I can't empathize, but even as beautiful as you look, I can only imagine it must be like strapping a twenty-five pound ball around your waist and walking around."

  Jacob guffawed and grabbed Arch's pull-along as they exited the building. “I did that. Once! They actually have husbands wear those to get a feel for what it's like to be pregnant."

  "As if that could convey.” Calli snorted. “They need to feed you guys a drink or some pills to bump up your hormones, then maybe you'd actually know what it feels like. But I really don't mind being pregnant."

  Outside, her beautiful blonde curls blew in the wind. When Jacob gave her a you're not taking care of yourself look, she said in defense, “It was calm when we left the house, and I forgot my hat."

  "You want to drive?” Jacob asked Arch.

  "No, no. You go ahead.” Once they were out on the highway, Calli turned slightly in her seat. “So, did you and Noah get everything worked out?"

  "No, but I'm going to see—” He stopped cold. “You just called Chris . . . or who I introduced you to as Chris . . . Noah."

  "Whoops!” Calli looked straight ahead.

  "How did you know her name's Noah?” he pressed.

  "I'm sorry, Arch. I thought Noah would've told you about our conversation. We went to school together here in Allenvale. We weren't close friends, but we did know each other.” She looked at Jacob. “See, I told you I was too hormonal. Opening my big mouth, when I shouldn't."

  Jacob merely laughed.

  From the rear seat,
Arch said, “Well, let's get back to what she should have told me. The only thing I know is that she, for some odd reason, switched identities with Chris, wanting him to get to know me before she did. But I have no idea why. Do you?"

  "No, she didn't tell me. I can tell you she was overcome with grief about lying to you. When we were in the ladies’ room that evening at Magginano's, she broke down and cried because she'd lied to you."

  "Really? She cried?” She suffered pain and anguish because she lied to me?

  Calli nodded vigorously. “Yes, Arch. She said she had her reasons for having Chris stand in for her, but didn't explain. When she asked for my advice I told her honesty's always the best policy. My impression as we left the restroom was that she had every intention of telling you."

  Noah's remorsefulness had Archer looking at things from a new perspective. Now it was more imperative he talk with her. He looked at his watch. Jacob was driving the speed limit, but it seemed as though they were crawling.

  "That's why Jacob and I departed, so you two could be alone and she could talk to you. What happened after that?"

  "Her Dad, Abel Adams, came in."

  "Oh . . . double whoops! Poor Noah."

  "Poor Noah? What about poor Arch?” Jacob commented.

  She held her hands up. “Okay, fellas. Don't gang up on the ladies."

  "No. That's not what I want to do,” Arch said. “It doesn't matter that you slipped, Calli. Probably for the best. Now I'm more inclined than ever to find out what's going on."