by Grace Green
‘She was my wife.’ His expression was grim and closed. ‘She died five years ago.’
‘Oh, I’m sor—’
‘Sorry?’ he exploded. ‘How can you be sorry about somebody you never met!’ His grip on his fork had tightened till the bones of his knuckles shone like ivory. ‘We were married. She’s now dead. End of story.’ He glared at Stephanie, and then after inhaling a deep breath in an obvious attempt to regain control of himself, devoted his attention to his food.
Stephanie felt shaky and a bit sick. How she wished she had never seen the book, or the name Ashley!
She usually enjoyed macaroni and cheese; now she found herself picking at it. Finally she pushed her plate away, accidentally knocking the pepper mill. It fell over with a clatter.
He glowered at her.
Her fingers trembled as she set the mill upright ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said, ‘I’ll go and pack my things. The man from Grantham Towing should be here soon.’
She got up...and noticed that he got to his feet, too, briefly. At least he had some kind of manners, she thought, but for the most part he was a boor. Bob Grantham had characterized him as a loner, and if it were true, it was probably not even by choice. Who would want to be around a man prone to such drastic and irrational mood swings!
But by the time she had finished packing her duffel bag, she had cooled down, and actually felt a surge of compassion for him. He had lost his wife—a wife he’d loved; that much was obvious from the tender way he’d whispered her name in his sleep. Perhaps he’d been a different person when she was alive. Perhaps it had been her death that had made him the way he was now.
She sighed. Why did she always have to worry about other people? In this instance, particularly, it was a pure waste of time. Once she left here, she would never see Damian McAllister again!
She had barely contemplated the thought when the doorbell rang. Could it be the driver from Grantham Towing? Hesitantly she looked around, to see that her host was coming out of the kitchen.
‘I’ll get it,’ he said tersely.
She watched him open the front door, and saw a man on the outside step, a beefy six-footer in heavy winter gear. She could hear the rumble of the stranger’s deep voice but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Beyond him, far down the driveway at the junction with the road, she could see flashing lights. The tow truck...
She hurried over to the door.
‘You got my van out okay?’ she asked eagerly.
‘He’s not from Grantham’s,’ McAllister growled.
‘We have a problem here, ma’am,’ the stranger said. ‘Your van was so far into the snow I didn’t see it till it was too late. The plow totaled it. Sorry about that, but you really shoulda had a warning flasher on it.’
Stephanie suddenly felt her legs begin to wobble. She was aware that McAllister was frowning down at her, and even as she opened her mouth to try to speak, he grasped her arm and despite her protests marched her back to the living room and sat her down in the wing chair by the fire.
‘Stay there,’ he commanded. ‘I’ll deal with this.’ He scooped up his parka from where he’d left it earlier. ‘Sit!’ he thundered, as Stephanie started to push herself up from the chair. ‘I told you—I’ll look after things.’
Stephanie sank back weakly. He went out and banged the door behind him. The sound vibrated through the room, setting the fire irons shaking.
Totaled. The man’s voice echoed in her head. Her van was totaled.
What was she going to do? Panic set her thoughts ascramble. How would she get home?
Shakily she got to her feet, and crossed into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water, and drank it while she stared unseeingly in front of her. This Christmas was not shaping up to be one of her best.
She was still standing there when McAllister came back in. She heard the front door open, and shut, followed by an impatient, ‘Where the hell are you?’
She hurried out of the kitchen. ‘Here.’
McAllister’s cheeks were flushed with the cold, his hair rumpled with the wind. His eyes were blank of emotion.
‘Grab your things,’ he said. ‘I’ll drive you home.’
She stared. ‘You’ll drive me home? No.’ She shook her head. ‘There’s no need—’
‘You want to walk?’ His voice had a scathing edge.
‘Of course not! But now that the road’s clear, someone can come for me. I’ll phone my mom and dad...they’ll—’
‘Are you kidding? The last thing I want is a horde of Redfords on my doorstep. Now get your things—’ his tone was exaggeratedly patient ‘—and let’s get on our way.’
‘You are the rudest man I have ever met.’
‘Then you can’t have met many men in the course of your sweet young life. I’ll go out and get my truck warmed up.’ He swiveled away and strode toward the door.
‘What about Grantham Towing?’ she called after him.
‘I used the cell phone on the snowplow to contact them. Everything’s organized.’ He opened the door, and called back over his shoulder, ‘Be out front in three minutes.’ Then he was gone.
The man wasn’t only rude, Stephanie decided, he was also arrogant and detestable. But she had to admit it was good of him to drive her home...no matter how selfish his reasons!
It took her only a couple of minutes to get her coat and toque on, and she was just about to pop the teddy bear into her duffel bag, when she changed her mind. Snatching it up, along with the duvet and the pillow she’d used the night before, she ran across the open area and up the stairs. After putting the duvet and pillow back where she’d found them, she scooted through to McAllister’s bedroom.
Crossing to his bed, she saw that her host slept with only one pillow. She plumped it up, and sat the teddy bear on it. She wished she had time to write a Thank you note, but just then she heard a brisk honk! from outside.
Heart thudding, she fled from the room. When would he find her gift? she wondered as she clattered down the stairs at top speed. And what would he do with it when he saw it? Would he toss the bear aside as indifferently as he’d done that morning?
She grimaced. The sad thing was, she’d never know.
McAllister’s vehicle was a late-model four-wheel-drive truck. That was about as much as Stephanie was allowed to see before he bundled her up into the front seat.
‘Right?’ he asked curtly, putting the vehicle in gear as she snapped her belt buckle shut.
‘Yes. Thank you.’
He had the heater on, but the warmth did nothing to dispel her tension, which increased as the truck crunched slowly down the driveway. When they approached the road, she could see her van in the headlights, and her heart gave an unpleasant twist. The vehicle was fit only for the junkyard. Closing her eyes, she clenched her hands in her lap. The truck slowed, and paused, before making the left turn and starting up the hill—the hill she’d slid down so ignominiously less than twenty-four hours before.
‘Oh!’ Eyes flying open, she wrenched her body around in her seat. ‘We’ll have to go back. My presents—’
‘I’ve got them. They’re in the back of the truck. One of the bags was slightly ripped, but if there’s nothing inside but stuffed animals, there should be little damage.’
‘Thank you so much. That was very thoughtful of you.’
‘I took your papers from the glove compartment, too.’ He gestured toward a plastic bag on the seat between them.
‘I do appreciate all you’ve done for me.’
He grunted, and as he changed gear, he shifted slightly, putting his shoulder to her, as if to cut off further conversation.
When they reached the top of the steep hill, she asked, tentatively, ‘Do you know your way to Rockfield?’
‘Yup.’
There was silence, for about five miles.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, ‘to have been such a bother to you. You obviously aren’t fond of company—’
‘What ma
kes you say that?’
‘Well, your house is off the beaten track...and you live alone...’
‘I’m not always alone,’ he said. ‘But at Christmas, I choose to be alone.’
‘It seems odd to me,’ she said softly. ‘Christmas is such a special time—’
‘Do you mind,’ he interrupted her, ‘if I listen to the news?’ He flicked on the radio, and they were just in time to hear the beginning of the top-of-the-hour newscast.
And that put her in her place, Stephanie reflected wryly.
When the newscast was over, he flicked off the radio, but she had gotten the message. He wanted to be left in peace, and even if he begged her to speak to him now, she would rather bite her tongue off than say one more word.
They drove for more than an hour before they reached the outskirts of Rockfield. During that time, apart from her earlier attempt at conversation, neither of them had spoken. It was McAllister who finally broke the extended silence.
‘I need you to direct me now,’ he said.
When Stephanie heard the weariness in his voice, any lingering resentment she might have been clinging to, gave way to a feeling of guilt. The man was recovering from a rotten bout of flu, and really shouldn’t be out of doors at all. The least she could do was be polite. And gracious.
‘It’s at the end of town,’ she said. ‘Do you see that school on the next corner? Turn left there, and go on for five blocks, and turn right at the Waverley General Store.’
In no time at all they were pulling up in front of the white frame house where Stephanie had been born, and she excitedly drank in the welcome and familiar Christmas scene. On the house’s high-pitched roof was an illuminated reindeer, pulling Santa’s sleigh; on the door hung a wreath; and in the uncurtained bay window stood a six-foot spruce, with winking lights and a shining silver angel. She could see people sitting around—and her heart gave a pleasurable little skip of anticipation when she spotted her mother.
‘Those boys in the front yard—’ she gestured toward four youngsters building a snowman that was silver-glazed by the moon ‘—are some of my nephews.’ She pushed open her door and called out, ‘Hey, Garry—could you come and give us a hand with these bags?’
When the boys recognized Stephanie, they whooped, and shuffled over eagerly, their faces as red as holly berries. She jumped down to hug them, and as she did, McAllister tossed the four plastic bags down onto the snow. The boys grabbed one each and scrambled off with them.
Stephanie turned...to find McAllister standing at the side of the truck...looking at the house. The expression on his face made her heart turn over; she’d never seen such a look of bleak unhappiness. What was he seeing, she wondered, to cause that look? Just her family, sitting around in the living room.
‘You must come in,’ she said, ‘and meet everybody.’
‘No, I need to get going.’ He turned away.
‘Please?’ She crossed to him, and touching his arm, looked up into his face. Her expression was tender. ‘My parents would like to meet the man who rescued me.’
She could see him hesitate. But even as he did, she heard a voice calling her from the open front door.
‘Steph—’ it was Jeff, her oldest brother ‘—come on, we have a surprise for you!’
Stephanie frowned, her hand still on Damian’s arm.
‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘I’ll follow on in a minute. I’ll just lock up the truck.’
‘You promise?’
‘Sure.’
He saw her eyes light up, brighter than the stars in the sky above, and she beamed at him. ‘Oh,’ she whispered gleefully, ‘it’s so wonderful to be home. Home for Christmas! It’s the very best time of the year—I love it, I just love it!’ And with a joyful laugh, she was off, tromping fast through the snow in her high black boots, the hem of her red coat swinging around her long legs.
‘Hey,’ he called after her, ‘you forgot your duffel bag.’
But she didn’t hear him.
A voice came from behind him. A gruff voice, young and diffident. ‘It’s okay. I’ll get it for her.’
He turned, and in the truck’s headlights, saw a teenage boy approach, a lanky figure clad in a parka and jeans, with brown hair tied back in a ponytail. He was a nice-looking lad...even taking into account a bad case of acne.
‘You must be Stephanie’s oldest nephew,’ Damian said.
‘Yeah.’ He hoisted up the duffel bag and swung it easily over his shoulder. ‘And you’re...?’
‘Just someone who gave her a drive when she needed one.’
‘Okay.’ The boy gave him a shrewd once-over, before turning his attention to the truck. He gave it an even more thorough inspection. ‘Cool,’ he said. ‘Really rad.’ He jerked his head toward a black Jaguar XJ parked across the street, half-hidden by the drooping branches of a snow-laden tree. ‘If I had a choice. I’d take your truck over that any day. It’s a smooth enough ride, but—’ He broke off with a scornful shrug. ‘I always thought Steph had good taste but her boyfriend’s like his car...smooth as an eel’s back.’
Damian drew in a deep lungful of cold clear air scented with evergreens. When he exhaled, his breath made ragged white smoke in the headlights. ‘Boyfriend?’
‘More than a boyfriend. He’s her fiancé, actually. They’re getting married in September.’ The boy kicked at the snow, bad-temperedly. ‘He’s a jerk, you know? Comes out with these little put-downs, and then laughs them off like he was joking?’
‘Well.’ Damian turned his head and looked at the house again. He could see Stephanie now, in the midst of her family...but she wasn’t standing alone. A man was with her. Tall. Blond. Wide-shouldered. They had their backs to the window, but Damian could see that the man had an arm around her. Firmly. Possessively. Intimately. ‘I’m off.’ His voice sounded as if someone was tightening a thin wire around his throat.
The boy scowled. ‘I thought I heard you tell Steph you’d follow her in.’
Yes, he had promised he would. In one wild and crazy moment, he had promised he would do just that. He had looked into her eyes as she stood with her hand on his arm, and in the pine green depths he had seen caring, and...he had foolishly thought...the hint of something more. It was almost as if a covenant had passed between them. Just as petals unfolding from a tiny bud gave unspoken assurance that if tenderly nurtured, blossoms would follow, he had seen in her eyes a similar covenant Or so he had thought. He had been mistaken. At that very moment when he’d dared to hope that a miracle could, after all, be his if he were only bold enough to reach for it, bold enough to take that risk, it had dissolved into nothing.
A mirage, not a miracle, after all.
He realized the boy was waiting for an answer.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘What’ll I tell her?’
He opened the truck door, and his boots clattered tinnily on the floor as he jumped up into the cab. ‘Nothing,’ he said, starting the engine. ‘It’s okay.’ He noticed the plastic package on the seat, with the papers he’d taken from the van. ‘Here.’ He tossed it out the window. ‘Catch.’
As he drove off, the boy called after him, ‘Merry Christmas, then...right?’
‘Yeah.’ Damian had never felt less merry in his life. ‘Right.’
Stephanie sat in the passenger seat of the Jaguar and stared at the sapphire ring on her engagement finger.
‘Happy, darling?’ Tony’s voice was low, intimate.
She turned to look at him. They were parked across the street from the Redford house, the car engine idling. After they’d spent an hour with her family and she’d caught up on all the news, Tony had suggested they go for a short drive.
‘You understand,’ he’d said to her parents with a disarming smile. ‘We haven’t seen each other since Friday!’
Her mother—apparently charmed by him—had said, ‘Don’t keep her too long, young man. We haven’t seen her since September!’ Everyone had laughed.
; Except Jason, her favorite nephew. He’d sat in a corner scowling at her... as he had done ever since he’d come inside and tossed her duffel bag down. The angry look he’d given her as he’d covertly jerked his head toward the window had made her blink. She’d glanced out...and had been in time to see the taillights of McAllister’s truck disappearing along the street. So, he’d decided not to come in after all. She’d felt a vague sense of regret, of things half-finished...but what on earth had put Jason into such a disgruntled mood!
‘Steph?’ Tony slid an arm along the top of her seat.
She pulled back. ‘You told me,’ she said stiffly, ‘that you were going to Aspen.’
‘I know. But when I started packing for the trip, it hit me suddenly that I couldn’t bear to spend Christmas apart from you!’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘Oh, my darling, please forgive me for having been so foolish.’
And with that, he claimed her lips in a lingering kiss.
In the past, Stephanie had always given herself up wholeheartedly to his kisses, but now a memory drifted into her thoughts and stole her attention—a memory of being held in McAllister’s arms, a memory of his huskily murmured ‘There’s nothing wrong with this position.’ Something tingled deep inside her as she recalled the tender way he’d brushed her tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
‘Now—’ Tony released her ‘—let’s take the drive—just a quick one. Well, it would be quick, wouldn’t it.’ His laugh was patronizing. ‘This isn’t exactly a metropolis!’
He moved the Jaguar forward. ‘I was pleased I was able to slip your ring on again before anyone noticed you weren’t wearing it. It’s been burning a hole in my pocket! Steph.’ He glanced at her. ‘About this New Year’s Eve engagement party your mother has planned—did you know about it?’
At mention of the party, Stephanie felt the same panicky sensation she’d felt when Tony had slipped the ring back on her finger; a sensation that she was losing control of her life, that she was being swept out to sea on a tidal wave. ‘No, it came as a complete surprise.’
‘But a wonderful one!’ Tony sounded smug. ‘They’ve really accepted me, haven’t they? Did you know that until she heard of our engagement, your mother hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since you left home and moved to the city?’
