Snowfall

by Sharon Sala

  “Everything smells wonderful,” he said, then wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck. “Including you.”

  She turned in his arms, allowing herself the luxury of one quick, passionate kiss.

  “Hold that thought,” she whispered.

  “As tight as I’m holding you,” Mac said, then laid his cheek against the top of her hair.

  They stood for a moment, savoring the silence and the joy of being held, and then Caitlin pulled back, knowing how easily the moment could spin out of control.

  “I’ve got to finish these vegetables. Aaron and David will be here soon.”

  “Is Leibowitz going to come?”

  Caitlin grinned. “No, thank goodness, although I held my breath when I asked him. He’s going to L.A. with a new client,” she said. “A pretty one, too, from what his secretary says.”

  “That’s good. He’s was too damned possessive to suit me.”

  “Without provocation, I can assure you.”

  He sighed, unable to put into words what her presence in his life meant to him. She didn’t have to tell him who she loved. She’d shown him many times over.

  He kissed the side of her face, just because he could, and because he still got cold chills remembering the panic of blowing oxygen into her lifeless body.

  “I know, baby. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She pointed to an apron hanging on the pantry doorknob.

  “Sure, grab an apron and a paring knife and dig in. You can peel the potatoes for me.”

  “I’m not wearing an apron,” he said, as he picked up the peeler and a potato.

  Caitlin stopped to watch, tracing the obstinate thrust of his jaw with her gaze and letting her feelings for him fill her soul.

  “I love you, you know.”

  Mac paused, the potato half peeled in his hand, and met her troubled gaze.

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice quiet with satisfaction.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, remembering the nightmare she’d had last night and the panic she’d seen on his face when she’d awakened with a scream.

  “Today is a good day.”

  “Good enough to think about marrying me?”

  Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Are you finally admitting that you love me enough to forgive me for being born rich?”

  He grinned wryly. “Yeah, I guess. So…what do you say?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss square on his mouth.

  “I say yes,” she said, and laid her head against his chest in quiet joy.

  “Would you live with me in Atlanta?” he asked.

  She smiled as she looked up. “Of course! I can write anywhere, as long as I know you’ll come home to me every night.”

  His arms tightened briefly, and then he turned her loose.

  “Wait,” he said, digging in the pocket of his jeans. “I had this…just in case.” He pulled out a ring box and took out the ring. “It belonged to my mother,” he said. “If it doesn’t fit, we can have it sized.”

  Caitlin stared at the two-carat yellow diamond he was putting on her hand, her mouth open in shock.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “It’s an heirloom. Close to a hundred and fifty years old now, if our family history is to be believed. It was on my great-great-great grandmother’s finger when she survived an Indian raid, and my great-grandmother was wearing it when she lost her husband and baby to typhoid fever. The women in my family have always been tough. Like you, they were survivors. I wish you could have known them.”

  “Oh, Mac,” Caitlin said, and then started to cry.

  “Well, hell,” Mac said as he gathered her in his arms. “I meant to make you happy. You know I can’t stand it when you cry.”

  “I am happy,” Caitlin said. “You just touched my heart.”

  The doorbell rang.

  Caitlin gasped. “That will be Aaron and David. I’ll get it. I want to see how long it takes him to notice the ring.”

  “Sorry, but they already know. I had to have Aaron get it out of the safe-deposit box for me.”

  She grinned. “That’s all right. At least the bandages are off his face and he’ll be able to see it on my hand.”

  She hurried toward the door, leaving him in the kitchen to finish the potatoes. He heard his brother’s voice, then laughter and a small, rousing cheer. She’d shown them the ring. He smiled, trying to imagine what the next sixty-odd years with her might be like. They wouldn’t be boring, of that he was certain.

  She’d come to terms with the lie of Devlin Bennett’s life, especially after the last of the research Mac had done on her behalf. Instead of looking for answers in Neil’s past, they’d looked in Devlin’s, instead.

  And the answers had been there, locked away in old hospital files and family journals and diaries they found in an undiscovered safe-deposit box. The secrets. The shame. Hiding the thread of insanity that had run through his family had been Devlin’s cross to bear. It had spilled from father to son, passed from mother to daughter, through four generations until Devlin was born.

  After witnessing his grandfather’s suicide and hearing the whispers of the family past, he’d sworn he would be the last. It would end with him or he would know the reason why.

  Mac could only imagine the horror Devlin must have felt when his girlfriend, Georgia, had turned up pregnant and the fight that had ensued when she’d refused to abort the child. But he had to give it to Devlin. He hadn’t abandoned her without thought. Even if it was guilt alone that had kept it coming, he’d sent support for her all the rest of her life, even after his son had reached maturity. They would never know what had happened to the money Georgia Calhoun received. Caitlin guessed that it might have wound up in a church, or given to a home for unwed mothers. Mac was inclined to agree. It made the horror of what had happened a little easier to bear.

  As for Devlin, adopting Caitlin had been the only way his beloved wife would ever mother a child. Whether she’d known of his family history or not, they would never know. It was enough for Caitlin that she’d been wanted desperately from the start. She had no interest in finding her birth parents. After what she’d gone through with Neil, she was all too aware of the dangers of digging into a past better left undisturbed.

  “You’re awfully quiet, big brother.”

  Mac turned. Aaron was grinning at him from the doorway.

  “I’m on KP.”

  Aaron snitched a celery stick from the colander where Caitlin had left them and began to eat.

  “That ring looks pretty good on her finger, doesn’t it?” he asked.

  Mac grinned. “Almost as good as the woman herself.”

  “I did good, didn’t I?” Aaron asked.

  Mac frowned, not following Aaron’s train of thought.

  “How so?”

  “I could have called a professional bodyguard, you know. She could certainly have afforded a dozen.”

  Mac stopped, staring at his brother in disbelief as Aaron kept on talking.

  “Of course, I wouldn’t have wished this on her for anything in the world, but since it was happening, I thought it was the perfect reason to get the bickering between you two over with.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Aaron grinned and took another bite of celery.

  “As a heart attack. Remember two Christmases ago when I told you that you and Caitlin would make a good couple?”

  “You were drunk.”

  “I was still right,” Aaron said, waving the celery stick beneath Mac’s nose as he backed out of the room.

  “You did it on purpose?”

  “Yes.”

  Mac grinned. “So I have you to thank for the hell I went through?”

  “And for Caitlin. You have to thank me for her, too. God only knows how long it would have taken you two
to wake up if I hadn’t interfered. I am the best,” he crowed, in an imitation of their childhood taunts, when one-upmanship mattered most of all.

  Mac laughed. “Yeah, but I won the girl.”

  Aaron rolled his eyes. “Like I care.”

  This time, they both laughed aloud.

  “What’s so funny?” Caitlin asked.

  “Nothing,” they said in unison.

  Her eyes narrowed. She’d seen them in this mood before.

  “Get out,” she said, pointing toward the living room. “Get out of my kitchen and go do something.”

  “Like what?” Mac asked.

  “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Just go be men.”

  “I’ll give it my best shot,” Aaron said, then laughed at his own wit as he sauntered out, leaving Mac to follow.

  The joy in her heart was almost perfect as she went about finishing the meal. Although this wasn’t the first Christmas she’d spent in Mac’s company, it was her first as a woman in love. Everything smelled sweeter. Food tasted richer. Hearts beat faster. It was the best. Only now and then did a flash of evil tease her mind, but she quickly pushed it away.

  Just as she was about to take the turkey out of the oven, the doorbell rang again. Confident that there were three able-bodied men to answer, she continued with the task, taking pride in the golden-brown skin of the bird in the pan.

  A couple of minutes later, Mac came hurrying into the room. “Honey, there’s someone to see you.”

  She frowned. “Oh, Mac, can’t you deal with it? The food is almost ready. We’re about to sit down to eat.”

  He shook his head. “Trust me,” he said. “You don’t want to miss this.”

  She took off her apron and wiped her hands.

  “Okay, let’s go see the big surprise.”

  The man by the door looked familiar, but it was the little girl standing in front of him who she recognized on sight.

  “Why, Katie! How sweet of you to come visit me.” She knelt in front of the girl and smiled. “Did Santa Claus come see you last night?”

  Katie Bridges grinned and nodded, and as she did, Caitlin realized it was the first time she’d seen her smile.

  Caitlin stood, then, welcoming the father, as well. “Hank, isn’t it? How are you doing?”

  The man’s eyes welled. “Thanks to you, better than I would have believed possible.”

  Caitlin felt herself blushing. “Please, don’t,” she said, uncomfortable with praise for something that had taken no more effort than a call to her lawyers.

  He nodded, understanding her reluctance.

  “I’ll make this quick,” he said. “And I apologize for intruding on your Christmas dinner, but we’re on our way to the airport, and Katie has something she wanted to give you.”

  “Are you going to your family for the holidays?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “We’re moving to Miami. Now that…since my…well, it’s just better. It’s where I was raised, and my parents will be close by to help me with Katie.” He patted his daughter on the head. “She’s not too keen on the idea of leaving,” he said.

  Caitlin knelt again, putting herself on eye level with the little girl. “So, you have something for me?”

  “I made it myself,” Katie said, and handed Caitlin a small, flat package.

  She tore into the wrappings. “I love presents, don’t you?”

  Katie nodded, then leaned back against her father’s legs, still needing the stability of human contact to cope.

  Caitlin rocked back on her heels as her eyes filled with tears.

  “She finished it a couple of days ago,” Hank said. “But I didn’t know where you lived. I called the paper, and they gave me your publicist’s phone number. When I told him why I needed it, he gave me your address. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Caitlin shook her head. “Mind? I’m honored.” She looked at Katie, her heart in her throat. “It’s the best picture I’ve ever seen. May I give you a hug? Just to say thank you?”

  Katie hesitated, then nodded, opening her arms lovingly, as only a child can do, and wrapping them around Caitlin’s neck.

  Oh God…give me a dozen just like her.

  When she pulled back, Caitlin was fighting back tears. “I hear you’re moving,” she said.

  The little girl frowned and nodded.

  “Well, guess what?” Caitlin said. “So am I.”

  Katie looked up at Mac. “Are you going with your daddy, too?”

  Caitlin smiled. “Yes, my daddy is taking me to Atlanta with him, just like your daddy is taking you to Miami. Isn’t that exciting?”

  Caitlin stood then, proudly clutching the picture to her chest as she pointed at the Degas hanging on the wall beside the door.

  “Mac, would you please take that painting down? I have a new picture I’d like to hang.”

  Hank Bridges flushed. “Oh, Miss Bennett, you don’t have to do that.”

  “Actually, I do,” Caitlin said.

  Mac was so proud of Caitlin he could hardly think as he took down the priceless work of art, carefully replacing it with an acrylic-framed page from a coloring book.

  “I always did like that Barney,” Caitlin said, as she stepped back to view the purple dinosaur among a brightly colored field of flowers.

  “Me, too,” Katie said, smiling at Caitlin.

  “We’ve got to go,” Hank said. “Merry Christmas to all of you, and…Miss Bennett, God’s blessings on you for the rest of your life.”

  Caitlin nodded her eyes filling with tears as Mac stood beside her. The weight of his arm across her shoulders was her anchor to the world. Katie looked back as they went out the door. Caitlin waved.

  “Thank you, Katie Bridges. Have a good life.”

  And then they were gone.

  Mac looked at the picture, squinting judiciously as he gave it a firm critique.

  “You know…I like what she’s done with the purple. It speaks for itself, don’t you think?”

  Caitlin burst into laughter as Mac swept her off her feet.

  The ring on her finger slid toward her knuckle, but she clenched her hand and held on, just like she’d held on to life.

  “Isn’t that turkey done yet?” Aaron asked.

  Caitlin laughed despite her tears as Mac set her back on the floor.

  “Yes, you big moose, it’s done. All of you, come and help me dish up. We’re going to eat in the kitchen—where families are supposed to eat.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-2897-3

  SNOWFALL

  Copyright © 2001 by Sharon Sala.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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