Lakeshore Christmas

by Susan Wiggs

  There was a very slight pause. Then Jabez said, “A little. It was a long time ago. Something the matter?” The kid had a way of seeing into his head.

  “Nothing that won’t get better once it’s over,” Eddie said with a grin. “I asked a girl out and now I don’t want to let her down.”

  Jabez grinned back. “You need dating advice, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  “You don’t have a girlfriend?”

  He gave a little laugh. “Nah.”

  That was curious to Eddie. The kid had the shaggy-haired good looks teenage girls couldn’t resist. Eddie had seen several of them making eyes at Jabez during rehearsals.

  “One thing, though,” Jabez said, “just figure out something new, something that’ll make her happy, and do that. Simple.”

  “Right,” Eddie agreed. “Simple. I’ll figure out what she likes.”

  “Okay, then. See you around.” Jabez zipped up his jacket and headed outside.

  Eddie watched him go. Unlike some of the teenagers, Jabez didn’t drive a car. He appeared to get around on foot exclusively. No one knew much about him, and Jabez didn’t offer anything. Yet whenever he was around, he seemed intensely present, focused and interested in what was going on, particularly with people around him. He joined Cecil Byrne outside the church, a kid who couldn’t be more different from him. Cecil was, it had to be said, a geek.

  Despite Jabez’s dating advice, Eddie felt no closer to a plan with Maureen. He’d asked her out on impulse. Now he had to figure out what to do. How to show her a good time. No, it was more than that. He had to make her happy.

  The burden of someone else’s happiness was not exactly his favorite thing to drag around.

  It occurred to him that he didn’t really know what would make her happy. Something new. Eddie stepped aside as a speeding little kid whooshed past him. In the blur of speed, he recognized one of Maureen’s nephews, who played Shepherd #4 in the pageant. The kid’s mother was in pursuit. Maybe Maureen’s sister would clue him in about Maureen’s likes and dislikes.

  “Do you have a minute?” he asked her before she disappeared. “Eddie Haven,” he added, extending his hand.

  “Renée Quinn,” she said. “And I know who you are. Good grief, who doesn’t?”

  She had a nice smile. A pretty face. She was like a more relaxed, slightly disheveled version of Maureen.

  “Does that mean my reputation precedes me?” he asked, herding her to the side in the church vestibule. Parents and kids swarmed the area, keyed up after a fairly routine rehearsal, and eager to head out to enjoy the day.

  “Ha. As if you didn’t know.” She had Maureen’s no-nonsense manner, too. “You’re even cuter in person. Maureen’s had a crush on you since she was a kid.”

  “Yeah?” He let a slow smile unfurl.

  “Don’t get cocky,” Renée warned him. “I’m just saying.”

  “If I was feeling cocky, I wouldn’t be asking for your advice,” he pointed out.

  “My advice about what?”

  “I asked her out. Like, on a date.”

  Renée’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

  “Take it easy. I like Moe a lot—”

  “Moe? Did you just call my sister Moe?”

  Uh-oh. Now he’d put his foot in it.

  Renée’s suspicion softened. “That’s so sweet. She’s always secretly wanted a nickname.”

  He could see her across the room, swarmed by little kids. “Glad you approve.”

  “I approve of the nickname. The going-out—not so much.”

  “No offense, but it’s not up to you,” he pointed out.

  “True. I’m protective of Maureen. I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  “I like her,” Eddie repeated. “Why would I hurt her?”

  “I’m not saying you’d do it on purpose, but…my sister’s not made of stone. She’d probably never tell you this, but she went through…a bad time. I think everyone in the family’s been overprotective of her ever since.”

  He recalled something Maureen had said to him. She’d hinted at an old wound, but had completely shut him down—It’s private. Now, though, he had the sister in his corner. “What do you mean, a bad time?” he asked her.

  “Mo-om!” Renée’s boy came tearing back into the vestibule. “Wendy just traded a box of Lucky Charms for a gerbil, and she’s carrying it around in her pocket.”

  Renée blanched. “I have to go,” she said, and rushed out the door after her son.

  So, thought Eddie, weaving his way toward Maureen, his instincts had been right. The lady had a past. It only made her more interesting to him. “I met your sister,” he said. “I told her we were going out.”

  Three of the angel-choir girls, who had been milling around nearby, snapped to attention. “You’re going out with Miss Davenport?” asked Emily McDaniel.

  “Sure am,” Eddie said, “if it’s okay with you.”

  The girls scurried away, whispering and giggling.

  “I never said I’d go out with you,” said Maureen, looking flustered. Her cheeks were pink, and wisps of hair escaped her hair clip.

  “You have no choice. I just told our biggest busybody.” Indeed, Emily was working her way through the angel choir like a hummingbird, spreading the news. “So we’re still on for our date,” he said, giving Maureen no chance to demur. “Wear something warm.”

  “Snowshoeing?” Filled with apprehension, Maureen regarded the footgear Eddie offered her after he’d parked at the trailhead.

  “Yup,” he said easily. “I take it you’ve never gone snowshoeing before.”

  “There’s a reason for that.”

  “I don’t mind being your first time, Maureen.” He offered what she’d come to think of as his trademark Eddie smile, a crooked grin loaded with charm. “Here, I’ll help you get them on.”

  “But—”

  “Unless you’d rather wade through thigh-deep snow.”

  Expelling a martyrlike sigh, she stuck out her foot. He grasped her ankle, and in that instant, the insanity that was her attraction to this man surged through her like a wave. This was not good. She had no business being with him, out here in the wilderness. The best thing to do would be to play along with him, tromp through the snowy woods for a while and then get home to her warm living room and her cats and the oh-so-politically-incorrect sexy novel she was reading. Protesting would only prolong the wilderness ordeal.

  “Let’s go,” he said, leading the way.

  Maureen’s feet immediately tangled in the unwieldy snowshoes. She pitched forward, doing a faceplant in the soft, newfallen snow.

  “Whoa, there.” Eddie was at her side immediately, helping her up and brushing off the snow. “The shoes take some getting used to.”

  “Thanks for letting me know,” she said, licking at the snow that trickled down her face.

  “Easy now. One step at a time. You’ll get into the rhythm of it.”

  She tried again, taking it slowly and keeping a wide stance as she lumbered along behind him. Her gait was probably unattractive in the extreme, but at least she stayed upright. Eddie moved with light-footed grace, though she could tell he was keeping the pace slow for her sake.

  “What gave you the idea to go snowshoeing?” she asked.

  “I wanted to do something new. Something that would make you happy. You don’t look too happy.”

  “Give me time.” She couldn’t help smiling.

  “My friend Noah Shepherd—he taught me a lot of this outdoor stuff. He’s an iron-man athlete. Does that triathlon every year, with the dogsled, speed skating and snowshoeing. I like the great outdoors. Always have, ever since going to summer camp as a kid.”

  “Wasn’t your commune like being at camp year-round?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Pretty much. But in the summer, my folks went to a bunch of Renaissance festivals, and it was easier to send me to camp. My grandparents performed at Camp Kioga in the fifties, so they knew the Bellamy famil
y.”

  “So the Havens are a true show business family,” she said. “I’m picturing the von Trapps in The Sound of Music,” she said. “Or something more modern—the Partridge Family?”

  He groaned. “I’m thinking the Osbournes.”

  She couldn’t tell whether or not he was kidding. “So the camp—that’s your connection to Avalon?” she asked.

  “That’s part of it.” He paused at a curve in the trail, took out a small flask and offered it to her.

  “No, thank you,” she said. “I’m clumsy enough on these snowshoes without drinking.”

  “It’s water,” he said with a laugh.

  “Oh. In that case, thanks.” She took a long drink, grateful for the pause. Walking on snowshoes was hard work. She handed the flask back to him. He drank from it without wiping off the spout, which she found insanely sexy. Of course, she found everything about him insanely sexy, so that was no surprise.

  “Just so you know, I don’t drink alcohol,” he said as he put the flask away. “Anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  He smiled. “I’m an alcoholic, Moe.”

  Yikes. She wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m…sorry?”

  The smile burgeoned into laughter. “The crisis is over. I’ve been sober for ten years. I took my last drink the night of my wreck at the church. I still feel bad about that, but not about getting into the program, with a golden ticket from Judge Wilhelm.”

  “I see.” They started walking again, heading for the summit of Watch Hill, where the trail ended. Maureen was surprised by what he’d just told her, yet at the same time, she liked his honesty. He seemed more human and approachable, somehow. “What do you remember about that night?” she asked. “The night of the accident. That is, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “You, um, said you broke up with a girl…” she prompted.

  “Yep. I planned on getting engaged on Christmas Eve. Instead, she turned me down.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “No shit. It was for the best, I know that now. We were too young, and my head definitely wasn’t in the same place as my heart, although at the time, getting dumped was the end of the world. I dropped her at the station to catch the last train to Albany, where her family lived. I planned to head back down to the city. I was driving toward the turnpike. And then there’s a big gap in my recollection, until I was being loaded into an ambulance.”

  So he didn’t remember the vehicle bursting into flames, the cries of the onlookers, the wash of emergency lights through the snowy night. He didn’t remember being found in a snow bank by Maureen herself. She hovered on the verge of telling him, but held back.

  “I didn’t realize it at the time,” he said, “but that was the bottom I needed to hit in order to get my life on track. I’m grateful as hell I didn’t hurt anybody in the wreck.”

  Though it made no sense at all, Maureen felt an affinity with Eddie after hearing his side of the story. Like her, he’d had his heart broken. And like her, he’d changed the direction of his future because of it. Their lives had intersected briefly that night and now, years later, they were at another intersection.

  Maureen thought about this as they followed the trail through the woods. She was not usually one to rush out to embrace the lavish beauty of nature, but here in the pristine wilderness, it was hard to ignore. The quality of light was dazzling, the colors starkly delineated. The eye-smarting blue of the sky outlined the clean contours of the snow and the sharply towering bare maples. Ever-greens—noble firs and tall pines—sparkled with natural icicles dripping from the tips of their branches. The occasional fisher or snowshoe hare darted through the forest, leaving a dimpled trail.

  At the summit, she shaded her eyes to survey the scenery. Eddie donned a pair of Bono-style shades. “Nice view,” he remarked.

  “I’d say so.” It was, if such a thing could be, almost too nice—so beautiful, she felt a thick ache of nostalgia in her throat. The snow lay upon the mountains like a bridal gown, overlaid by the intricate lace of the bare trees. Far in the distance, Willow Lake was a vast, blank field, the town of Avalon hugging the shore. Maureen felt caught up in the magnificence of the day. “It’s incredible,” she said softly. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  Moving close, he slipped his arm around her. With his free hand, he took off the sunglasses. “Thanks for coming along, and for being a good sport about it.”

  Maureen didn’t dare move. She even refused to breathe. She was consumed by the urge to turn to him, to lift herself up on tiptoe, grab his parka by the lapels and kiss him long and hard, in broad daylight. It was the scenery, she told herself. It was making her insane, all this beauty impairing her judgment.

  But ultimately, reason intervened. This was Eddie Haven, of all people. Sure, he was flirting madly with her and had been for days, but that was all it could be—an elaborate flirtation. And Maureen knew better than to sacrifice her hard-won balance and emotional stability for a mere flirtation.

  “Hey, Moe,” he said, a suggestion plain in his voice. His arm tightened around her.

  Oh, no. This was it. If she didn’t do something, he was going to kiss her in broad daylight. “Look,” she said, “I don’t want to go all Sabine on you, but we should probably head back down.”

  “What’s your hurry?” asked Eddie. “Never mind. What I’m really wondering is what hurt you so bad that you can’t conceive of letting someone get close to you?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, terrified of the tears that had inexplicably gathered in her eyes.

  “Right,” he said, putting the sunglasses back on. He seemed agreeable enough, but she sensed a sharpness about him that hadn’t been there before. Good grief, had she hurt his feelings? Impossible.

  “Going down is going to be a lot easier than climbing up was,” she declared, forcing a chipper note into her tone as she returned to the wilderness trail.

  “That depends,” said Eddie.

  “On what?”

  “On what we talk about on the way down.”

  She slipped a glance at him, but the sunglasses concealed everything. “What would you like to talk about?” she asked.

  “You, for a change. Your sister said you have a past.”

  Maureen felt a flurry of panic in her chest. “She said what?”

  “She told me you’d had a bad time in the past, and she didn’t want to see you getting hurt again.”

  The mouth, thought Maureen. I’ll kill her.

  “So is it true?” Eddie asked.

  “Everybody has a past,” she hedged. Too cryptic, she decided. Maybe if she told him a little of the background, he’d be satisfied and quit asking questions. “Renée was referring to my junior year of college. I spent my life savings to study abroad, in Paris. I was a theater major. I lived and breathed drama, and after college I planned to move to New York, live as a starving artist, eventually take the world by storm. When that didn’t work out, I gave up on that, finished college and moved back to Avalon to become a librarian.”

  “I can think of worse things.”

  “I’m not saying it’s bad. It was just such a change, from theater to library science.”

  “So what turned you from an out-there theater major into a librarian? And why are the two incompatible?”

  “They’re not, necessarily. Just for me. It’s a long story.” She hunched her shoulders, tucked her chin down into her muffler. She’d already said too much. What had happened to her was not so much a long story as an extremely personal story. A painful one. A story she had never told anyone in its entirety. Ever.

  They returned to the van, and Eddie put away the snowshoes. She gazed out the window during the drive home, knowing she would never forget this day, the beautiful scenery, the cold, the unearned intimacy she’d felt with Eddie.

  At the edge of town, he pulled over at a latte stand. “Tell you what. I’ll go get us some h
ot chocolate. And when I come back, we’ll talk. You’ll talk.”

  “I never agreed—”

  “Sure you did, Moe. I’ll be back in a few.” They were pulled off to the side of the river road as it wended its way back to town.

  The man had the most infuriating way of putting words in her mouth. She tried to picture herself opening up to him, showing him a glimpse of her past. In her younger days, she used to be easy and open, sharing herself freely with people. She’d started college as a theater major, of all things. The most flamboyant, emotionally risky major she could pick. In her theater classes, she remembered having to do exercises involving trust and personal confessions, and she had loved those things. Then something happened to change all that.

  Maybe she could tell her secrets to Eddie. He was neither family nor friend. Just…an associate. Eddie Haven was some one she’d met when their lives had intersected a time or two. He had no power or influence over her. Telling him about her past would be akin to confessing to a benign stranger. He was someone who might lift the emotional burden and carry it away. In that sense, perhaps opening up to him could be like going to a therapist, only cheaper.

  But it was not a therapist who had kissed her in the library. She was counting on them both to forget about that, and about the moment at the top of the hill, when they’d nearly kissed again.

  But, oh, where to begin? Maybe she’d start with the physical manifestation of her secret, the one that could only be seen when she bathed or wore the skimpiest of bikinis. Years ago she’d gotten a tattoo on impulse, at the urging of her French lover.

  Part Four

  Paris, a city of gaieties and pleasures, where four-fifths of the inhabitants die of grief.

  —Nicolas de Chamfort, 1741-1794

  Fifteen

  “It should be drawn just here, where I like to kiss you,” Jean-Luc had said, and he’d marked the spot with his tongue.

  As a college girl experiencing Paris for the first time, Maureen had been dizzy with excitement to have the attention of a man who was so handsome, so sophisticated, so very French. They had met at the Musée Rodin, in the sculpture garden. It had happened on one of those crisp days in early fall, a day of gorgeous weather, the kind people associated with feel-good movies set in Paris. There was the slightest nip in the air, the leaves just beginning to turn gold as they fluttered to the cut stone walkways and manicured greenswards around the historic building.