by Vella Munn
“The police widows and orphans society.”
Why them? She longed to ask but suspected he wouldn’t answer or if he did his response wouldn’t have depth.
The windows shook as the wind struck them. “Mother Nature is on a tear tonight.”
“She’s just showing off.”
Their conversation had veered again, taken off in another direction maybe a safer one. “I really wish I knew what animals do on nights like this. I’m sure our resident wolf and the snowshoe hares have found shelter, but deer and elk can’t crawl into a cave or hollow log.”
“Those without the sense to head for Florida are probably huddled under trees. Hunkered down with their backs to the wind and heads low. Bunched together to share warmth.”
“Probably.” She drew a stick animal that could be anything with four legs and a tail. “We humans believe the world revolves around us but we’re the least prepared to survive the elements. Take away our buildings and heat, strip off our coats and boots and we wouldn’t last long. We need to study what wildlife does, learn from them.”
“Do you think that’ll ever happen?”
“I doubt it. We’re so darn complacent, so ill-prepared to survive violence.”
He gave her his full attention. “Violence?”
She gripped her elbows and widened her stance. It had happened again. The conversation had abruptly changed and was skating dangerously close to what she’d never be able to bury.
“It happens. We go along living our ordinary lives until something unexpected knocks us off course. An accident, fire, illness, being the victim of a crime. Most people don’t have the necessary coping skills to get them through those things unscathed.”
“But most survive.”
“Yes, but are they ever the same or are the scars too deep?”
He turned his back to the night, again rammed his hands into his back pockets, and stared at her feet. “You’re right. Sometimes they’re too deep.”
Speechless, she studied him. She’d thought she’d been speaking about herself, but obviously he knew what she was talking about. Had experienced trauma. There were lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. He looked, not tired, but as if he was burdened by something he didn’t want. She’d seen the same expression on herself. No amount of beauty products would erase life’s loads. All a person could do was embrace the good as much as possible.
“I think,” she blurted, “that I might have just decided what I’m going to give my brother’s family for Christmas.”
“Where did that come from?”
From my need to change the subject. The carols in the other room barely reached here, but the sound was enough to ease her mind a little. The trees, animals, and these windows had survived countless storms. Her role was to experience tonight with the man who was waiting for her to continue.
“Kolina and Echo have been collecting and scanning early photographs of the area. The file keeps growing. There are some amazing shots of Mount Lynx throughout the seasons. Someone took a lovely series of pictures of a pair of ducks with their chicks before the resort was built. Those and others would be perfect in an album.”
He smiled, actually smiled. She felt young and carefree just seeing the gesture. “Alexa is into frogs. She’d love seeing the progression from tadpole to maturity.”
“Then you’ve seen—”
“Some of the collection, yes. That’s it, what I want to give my family in addition to the donation.”
“Hey.” She presented him with her best interpretation of disapproval. “You’re stealing my idea.”
He brushed the side of her neck. “Because it’s a great one.”
Between his smile, lighthearted tone, and warm fingers on her flesh, she unraveled a little. She was making things so complex between them when why couldn’t it be simple? Focused on the physical.
“I’ll ask Kolina to email the file to me,” he said with his hand now resting on her shoulder. “It’ll be interesting to see whether we choose the same shots.”
“Maybe we will.” And if we do, does that mean something? “I’m sorry I didn’t think of this earlier.”
“Work got in the way.”
And the distraction of you. “It takes a lot of time, but Mick means so much to me. I should have made that a priority.”
“Tell me about him.”
Shaw wanted them to get closer, for him to learn more about her. Over the years she’d perfected her ability to keep herself at arm’s length but that skill wasn’t helping tonight. Besides, maybe he would open up himself.
“He’s always been my hero, the big brother I admired. When he dropped me off or picked me up after school, I’d make him drive around so my classmates could see. One year there was this event where fathers could have lunch with their children. My father—he couldn’t make it but Mick did. He sat in my desk and looked through my papers, praised my grades.” She paused to compose herself which wasn’t easy with Shaw’s hand still on her shoulder. “When he was getting ready to leave, he lifted me and twirled me around the room.”
“Were you embarrassed?”
“Oh no. I thought it was wonderful. A few years later he promised that if no boy invited me to the prom he’d take me.” If she kept this up, she risked getting into closed off territory, but she couldn’t stop sharing what had been good about her childhood. “I hoped he’d invite me to his prom, but he asked someone his age.”
“You probably wouldn’t have enjoyed yourself.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “I realize that now, but I didn’t then. Mick bought two corsages, one for his date, one for me. I wore it until the petals fell off.”
Shaw patted her shoulder then let her go. Torn between needing back the contact and relief since she couldn’t think straight when he was touching her, she again searched for something else to say. Nothing came.
“Boone and I are two years apart in age,” he said. “He’s older. It bothered the heck out of me that he could do things I couldn’t. He was good at shifting blame onto me.”
She chuckled. “My nieces are fourteen and nearly sixteen. They’ve always competed with each other. Mick hopes their competitive natures will hold them in good stead as adults. He’d hate to have years of trying to keep them from killing each other go for nothing.”
“I get where he’s coming from. My nephew just turned three but he’s always getting into Alexa’s stuff. It drives her crazy. She retaliates by pulling his hair and pinching him. Of course, he cries.”
“We should get our brothers together. Mick might be able to give Boone some tips on how to survive the early years.”
“Maybe we should.”
Despite his words she wasn’t sure he meant them. A moment ago their conversation had been lighthearted. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem capable of sustaining the mood. Maybe they should return to the tree decorating. Later she’d get a neighbor to run her to her place on his snowmobile. Shaw would go up to his apartment and shut the door on the voices and music below. They’d sleep alone.
If she could sleep for the sexual energy flowing throughout her and making her a little crazy.
“One way or another I’m going to get my parents out here this spring,” he said. If he sensed what she was thinking, he gave no indication. “Dad has been having problems with his heart. Hopefully his doctors have things stabilized. Even if there are still issues, spending time here would be good for them.”
“If his traveling is restricted maybe you can get away.”
“I will if I have to.”
Have to? Maybe he was hinting at strained family relationships. She wouldn’t probe, but maybe he simply needed to talk. If that was the case, she’d somehow wrestle her awareness of his body into submission. Not take a chance on touching him or standing too close.
“How about your mother?” she asked. “Her health’s all right?”
“Mom will outlive Boone and me. She has incredible energy.”
Good. Somet
hing else to talk about. “That sounds like my sister-in-law. I get tired just thinking about everything Carol does.” She considered stopping with that, but if she did the conversation might again run down. There’d be nothing to keep her here and no waiting to see if he’d smile again. “Her job isn’t particularly fulfilling and her daughters won’t always need her. My brother’s concerned she doesn’t know how to stop and smell the roses.”
“Yeah. Boone and his wife are up to their ears with two little ones and establishing their careers. I wish—I feel guilty for not living closer to our folks. If I did, I could give my brother a break.”
All this talk about families was making her uneasy. At the same time she didn’t want it to end because the more she learned about his family, the more she understood him. She was greedy, eager to pull every piece of information she could out of him, peeling off the layers while somehow keeping hers intact.
“Does your dad talk about his health?” she asked. “What about his doctors? Have you been able to confer with them?”
“I tried to. Unfortunately, privacy regulations complicates things. I know…”
When he walked to the far end of the room, she didn’t know whether to join him or give him space. What do you know? She longed to ask but that might be what he was trying to escape.
“Life’s complicated,” she said then winced at her words.
“Yeah, it is. We think it’s going to play out in a certain way, that we have plans and goals. Then one day everything blows up and nothing is ever the same.”
One day. Casting aside doubt and hesitation, she erased the distance between them. His back was to her so she took the monumental risk of running her hands over his shoulder blades and onto his shoulders. He was so tense. She ached, just thinking about what was going on inside him.
“Sometimes we get a warning,” she said, feeling her way. “But we don’t know it until later. Maybe there were some hints before your dad—was he getting more tired than usual, something like that?”
He faced her. Maybe she should have taken that as a sign that she needed to back away, but she couldn’t make herself move beyond letting her arms slide to her sides. His having on shoes increased the difference in their heights but that wasn’t why he overwhelmed her. What had started out as an evening of hot chocolate, cookies, and colored lights had slipped into a deeper realm. She didn’t know how to get free, or if she wanted to.
“I put him through so much,” he said. “The stress—it affected the whole family but Dad…”
“You’re blaming yourself for—”
He held up his hand. “Look, forget I—it’s pretty complicated.”
She longed to slap down the hand between them. “I hope you’ve been able to talk to your parents about—whatever it is. Clearing the air might make a difference. Maybe ease your dad’s mind and take pressure off his heart.”
His mouth tightened. “It isn’t that simple.”
She didn’t know how to react to what might be his criticism of what she’d said. She was trying to help, maybe not getting it right, but trying anyway. If she knew what this was about—“It’s hard going from parent-child relationships to adult-adult.” Was that what she’d meant to say? “As we grow up, we stop confiding in our parents about everything because we’re trying to prove we can stand on our own feet.”
In many respects, her childhood hadn’t been like that, but she had some idea how it was for many families. Hopefully she could put herself in that position, play the expected role.
“I couldn’t protect—” he started. “You didn’t go through what I did. You can’t possibly understand.”
Tell him what it was like for you. “What do you want me to say?”
He moved so fast she barely realized what he had in mind before he captured her wrists. He started to pull her close but stopped, still holding onto her, looking surprised.
“I didn’t mean to bring you into this, but sometimes things boil up inside me and escape.” His grip slackened. “It won’t happen again.”
What won’t happen? “It’s all right.”
“No it isn’t.” He stroked her flesh where his fingers had dug in. “I don’t think things would be so hard if the—if it hadn’t impacted my family like it did. I look at my mother and see the pain in her eyes. She hurts for me. At the same time, she tries to downplay what she’s going through.”
Haley blinked repeatedly, but her eyes continued to burn. How well she understood pain. “Oh.”
“Mom carried me inside her,” he continued. “She gave birth to me, nursed me, walked the floors with me. Tried to keep me safe. She put my brother and me before her own needs.” He shook his head. “Mothers give so much of themselves to their children. They ask for so little in return.”
Images from her childhood threatened to break through. She couldn’t concentrate enough to keep them locked away.
“You must know what I’m talking about,” he went on. “Your mother—probably all she wants for Christmas is to hear from you.”
“My mother’s dead.”
When Shaw’s expression froze, the reality of what she’d just said sank in. She hadn’t meant to tell him that tonight and maybe not any other night, but she couldn’t take back the words.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t know.”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
Why was he looking as if he’d been punched when she was the one who’d lived through the nightmare? Maybe she could have handled his reaction if he didn’t make it worse by lifting her hand to his face and touching his lips to her palm.
“I’m so sorry.” He repeated with his mouth an inch from her hand. “What was it? I’m so—darn it, I keep saying that but it’s because I mean it. Tell me to shut up if you don’t want to go there but what happened? If she was sick—maybe an accident?”
Part of why she’d wanted this job was so she could put physical and hopefully emotional distance between herself and her mother’s death. Why then had she blurted out what she had and why did his gesture bring her close to tears?
“Not sick.” She evaded. “She was always healthy, at least physically.”
He pressed her palm against the side of his neck.
Between his warmth and compassion, she felt as if she was melting into him. They could remain like this all night, neither of them needing to speak, communicating wordlessly. She would memorize the rhythm of his heartbeat and he’d study how her chest rose and fell with her every breath. They’d watch it snow and in the morning, after spending the night making love, they’d share in the sun’s rising.
“An accident?”
“An accident.” She parroted his words.
“To lose your mother when you were so young—you were probably just starting to see yourself as an independent young lady. Your relationship with your parents was evolving, uncertain, maybe strained sometimes. Then suddenly the most important person in your life was gone and you don’t know how to handle it.”
She couldn’t speak.
“A close friend of mine’s parents got divorced when he was thirteen,” Shaw continued. “He was angry at both of them, particularly his dad who’d been having an affair. Jeff wanted back the life he had before the separation.” Shaw moved her hand to his cheek, destroying the last of her defenses as he did. “If your mother was killed in an automobile accident…”
Everything stopped with the word killed. She hated it with every fiber of her being, wanted to rip it to shreds, drop it in the middle of the ocean, set it on fire.
Shaw’s hold on her wrist tightened. “Haley? Where did you go?”
“What? Nowhere.”
“Yes you did. Did I say something to upset you?”
I can’t think around you. Don’t make this so hard, don’t—“Not upset.”
“Then what?”
“My mother was murdered.”
Chapter Fourteen
“What do you think? Is Santa Claus real?”
“I don’t know. I saw three Clauses yesterday. He can’t be at all those places at the same time.”
Wishing his brother had told him how to handle the Santa Claus issue with Alexa, Shaw stepped outside so hopefully his mind would clear. Last night’s storm had dumped about ten inches of snow on top of the kind of base that made ski resort managers drool and drivers cringe. At least Haley hadn’t had to rely on someone’s snowmobile to get home because the snowplow operator had made several passes between the lodge and where resort employees lived. Thanks to Steve, Haley and others had been able to walk the short distance.
He’d wanted to accompany her. No, he’d wanted to carry her upstairs to his apartment and place her on his bed, but her silence following her admission had left him believing she needed to be alone. She’d acted like it. He’d stumbled about trying to get her to say more, but she had closed up. After a mostly sleepless night, he was still trying to decide how and when to contact her and what he should say. The call from Alexa was providing him with a needed distraction.
“Santa has helpers,” he told his niece. “I bet that’s what you saw.”
“Maybe. Uncle Shaw, if there isn’t a Santa, will you be sad?”
Too bad he couldn’t reach across the miles and hug his favorite five plus year old. “No honey, I won’t be sad. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“That’s what Mommy says.”
He stifled a chuckle. “Is your daddy there? There’s something I want to ask him.”
“Is it a secret, a Christmas secret?”
“Well if it is, I’m not going to tell you. Give your brother a hug for me, all right?”
“He pooped his pants.”
“Oh. Well, in that case you have my permission to hold off hugging him until he’s been cleaned up. Where’s your daddy?”
“In the garage being mad.”
As Shaw soon found out, his brother’s mad had been caused by a flat tire. Boone had replaced the flat and was about to head for the tire store.
“The joys of being an adult,” Boone explained. “So much for thinking I’d be spending my day off putting up Mom and Dad’s Christmas lights. Have you talked to them lately?”
