“Sorry,” she said, scrambling forward.
He caught her around the waist. “Don’t go too far. We have to sit tight together so our weight gives the toboggan the momentum.”
She was between his legs now, feeling very unsettled. She’d worn her down jacket and ski pants, so it wasn’t as if there wasn’t enough padding between them. Yet when his arms came around her, that padding seemed like nothing at all. The heat of his body radiated through the nylon and feathers. His strong arms wrapped around her waist as he held the cords. His long legs were beside hers. She could feel him surrounding her.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
Dawson seemed to hear everything whether it was out loud or in her head. “Relax, Mikala. This will be fun.” He held her a little tighter. “Get ready for the ride of your life.”
Seeing they were ready for a run, Clay clomped toward them at the top of the hill. Dropping the lead to his tube, he said, “I’ll give you a push.”
Dawson waved his agreement.
“Ready?” Clay asked.
Dawson motioned him to go ahead and Mikala held her breath.
Clay came up behind the toboggan, ran with it a little and gave it a giant push over the top of the hill.
Mikala yelped with the sensation of speeding down the huge hill, her stomach doing flip-flops. Not just because of their speed, but because Dawson was holding her. Pressed against his body, she could feel his arousal and knew he was very aware of her assets. His arms pressed against her breasts as he surrounded her, cocooned her, kept her safe.
Then suddenly, they weren’t quite safe. They hit a sheen of ice that turned the side of the toboggan and veered them in a different direction. Dawson fought for control but only managed to steer them over another icy patch that pushed them sliding toward a stand of trees.
Luke shouted, “Watch out, Dad!”
Mikala could hear the trembling fear in the boy’s voice.
Fighting for control of the toboggan, Dawson only managed to shout, “We’re fine,” before they skidded and slid into a pile of snow that was a throw-away zone for the path carved out to stomp up the hill.
Luke ran in the deep snow most of the way up the hill until he got to them. “Are you all right? Dad? Mikala?”
“Just a little shaken up,” she assured him, then she looked at Dawson.
Dawson wore a scowl. “I’m fine. That was a stupid move on my part. I should have been able to steer better.”
But none of that calmed Luke. “You could have run right into that tree. You could have hit your heads. You could have…died.” He looked absolutely stricken.
Dawson didn’t hesitate to go to his son and wrap his arms around him.
But Luke wriggled out of his arms and shoved him away. “Go away! I don’t need that. I don’t need you.” Tramping down the hill, he stopped only when he took hold of his tube and walked away from the house…away from them.
“He’s afraid of losing me, too.” Dawson’s voice was pained. “I don’t know how to reassure him when he won’t let me get close.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
“Let me try first.”
She heard the longing in Dawson’s voice to be the one to help his son. After all, she was really an outsider. He didn’t want to rely on her. Yet that’s why he’d brought Luke to her.
She waited while Dawson went to Luke, while he dropped his arm around his son’s shoulders. But no sooner had Dawson said something, than Luke pulled away, obviously upset. Dawson didn’t move after him. She understood he didn’t want to make his son run even farther from him. She ached for Dawson and all the turmoil inside of him. She ached for Luke and all he was going through.
Could she help? Or would she just make matters worse? Here in Clay’s backyard, they didn’t have the privacy her studio would provide. Here in Clay’s backyard, there was more distraction.
Luke sank down into the snow and just sat there. She could see the swell of emotion on Dawson’s face, the desire to go to his son again and his fear he’d make matters worse. His gaze met Mikala’s and he gave a nod. It was permission to do what she could.
Mikala made her way through the snow toward Luke, knowing whatever emotions had risen up in him needed to be expressed—the sooner the better. When she reached the ten-year-old, she sank down onto the snow beside him, keeping a little space between them, not saying a word.
Finally he said, “Dad’s mad at me.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I pushed him away.”
“I don’t think he’s mad at you. I think he’s worried about you.”
Luke glanced over his shoulder and saw Dawson dragging the toboggan toward the house. Then he cut a quick glance to Mikala and said, “When you and Dad fell off the toboggan, it was like—”
He sounded as if he were choking on his words and Mikala knew this was serious. “Tell me,” she encouraged with what she hoped was a no-pressure tone.
“I…I remembered the windshield breaking. I felt the car spin and roll.” There were tears in his voice now.
“And I heard Mom cry.” His words were lower but Mikala could still hear them. They ended on a little sob that broke her heart.
She moved closer to him in the snow, let her arm brush his. “Whatever you’re feeling is okay. Whatever you’re seeing we’ll make sense of.” When she put her arm around his shoulders for comfort, he didn’t shift away.
Each of his tears seemed to fall into her heart, burning, and hurting her, too. She sat there with Luke like that until his chest stopped heaving. Snow began falling, frosting the already white landscape. Slowly, Luke’s grief ebbed and finally he pulled away.
“I don’t see anything else,” he said almost angrily. “I don’t hear anything else. I can’t remember. I just can’t, no matter how much Dad wants me to. I can’t remember what happened before we went off the road.”
It wasn’t that he couldn’t, Mikala believed now. His subconscious wouldn’t let him.
“You are remembering. It’s very important that you share what you’re remembering with someone, if not your dad, then with me or even with Aunt Anna. If you remember when you’re with one of us, just say so and we’ll help you.”
“What if it happens at school? What if I…cry?” He swiped the wetness from his cheeks as if tears were totally unacceptable.
“You can ask to be excused and go to the bathroom. Or you can ask your teacher to call me, or your dad. It’s okay if you do that. Your dad can make sure your teacher knows that’s what she should do.”
“But what about the other kids? They’ll think I’m weird!”
“The other kids don’t have to know. You have lots of choices, Luke. You can decide what you need and who you want to tell. But one thing I want you to know above all else—you do not have to deal with this alone.”
He studied her, searching her face. “Do you think I’ll remember more?” He almost sounded fearful of that, but he wanted her to be honest, too.
“I don’t know. You might. It could happen in a couple of days, a couple of weeks, a couple of months. But I don’t want you to be afraid of it. If you do remember, we’ll talk about whatever happens. We’ll get through it.”
He kept staring down into the snow as if it could bury his memories, bury feelings he wasn’t ready to deal with. After sitting there a few more minutes, eventually he did turn toward her. “I’m glad you were here today.”
“I’m glad I was, too.”
After another pause, he shifted away from her. “I’m getting cold.”
“Me, too. Have you had enough tubing for today?”
“Yeah, it was fun until…until you and Dad spilled. Are you going to tell him what I remembered?”
“That’s up to you. Do you want to tell him? Or would you like me to tell him? Would you like us to all sit together and talk?”
He thought about it. “Can you just tell him for now? I don’t want to.”
“For now.” They both stood and she settled her hands on Luke’s shoulders. “You know your dad loves you, right?”
Luke nodded.
“At some point we all have to talk. I just want you to think about that, okay?”
He nodded again.
They started walking toward the back porch where Dawson was standing all alone. She knew how isolated he felt. She wished she could make him feel less so. But that could get them both into big trouble. Consoling Dawson was dangerous territory she didn’t want to barge into right now. Consoling Dawson could turn into kissing Dawson, could turn into making love with Dawson. She couldn’t let that happen. It was too soon for him and possibly too late for her.
* * *
Mikala headed for the Purple Pansy’s detached garage on her way to a group-home session. She couldn’t help thinking about what had happened with Luke when they’d gone tubing a few days ago. During their sessions she hoped she was giving him confidence to share what he was thinking, whether in music or just by talking to another person. She hoped she was teaching him that he had options and could make choices without someone’s approval being the motive for them. Luke had to know he had a say in his life and could express it in lots of ways.
Her boots made distinct footprints in the fresh snow that had fallen last night. She’d almost reached the side door of the garage when an SUV turned into the B and B’s parking lot. Turning, she watched Dawson park. He spotted her immediately as he exited his vehicle. She remembered how stoic but lonely he’d looked on Clay’s back porch. She remembered exactly how his body had felt against hers as she’d settled on the toboggan in front of him.
He didn’t look stoic now. He was smiling as he approached her. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”
She’d done her best to forget about the hearts and flowers day. After all, she was practical. She knew an expression of love on Valentine’s Day might not last through the year. Unless it was from her aunt.
She smiled back. “Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too.”
There it was again, darn it…that terrific magnetic pull toward Dawson…the glint in his eyes that he felt it, too.
“Are you doing anything special today?” he asked.
“No. I have sessions from now through this evening.”
“You won’t be home for dinner?”
“Not tonight.” Had she subconsciously arranged her schedule that way? Didn’t want to think about Valentine’s Day as she sat across the table from Dawson imagining kissing him again…maybe doing a lot more than kissing?
He seemed to digest that. Then he took a few steps closer. “Do you ever celebrate Valentine’s Day?”
“You mean with chocolate and flowers? I left that behind a long time ago.”
He was right there then. So close their breaths mingled into one white puff. His voice was low and a little gravelly when he said, “I think you should celebrate just a little.”
“Celebrate how?”
His large hands were warm on her cheeks as he held her face and gazed into her eyes.
Her heart was racing now as he tipped up her head, bringing his lips to hers, and she knew in the deepest recesses of her heart that she was falling in love. Her feelings for Dawson were becoming too big to manage or to keep tamped down.
His kiss became the embodiment of Valentine’s Day. Yet she feared love wasn’t in his vocabulary now. She was afraid all Valentine’s Day meant to him was passion. With Dawson’s return to Miners Bluff, she certainly had found her passion.
When the kiss was over, she didn’t know what to do. But she didn’t have to do anything because he said, “I won’t keep you. I guess I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you.”
Appreciate her work with Luke? Appreciate her desire for him? Appreciate that their friendship was definitely taking a turn into something more potent?
Dawson brushed his thumb over her lips and then backed away. So he didn’t kiss her again?
After a last irresistible smile, he gave a wave and walked up the path to the B and B.
She went into the garage, confused by the turmoil his kiss had caused.
Chapter Eight
The following Saturday Mikala stared at the package on her desk in her studio and swallowed hard. Removing a pair of scissors from her desk drawer, she snipped the tape along the edges and opened the lid. She was staring at the wrapped package inside when there was a knock at her studio door.
“Come in,” she called automatically.
Dawson opened her door, and as always, her heart leapt when she saw him. A joyful feeling inside had her sending him a smile as she remembered his Valentine’s Day kiss.
He smiled back, started to say, “I have someone—”
But Luke said from behind him, “Granddad is here. I want you to meet him.”
Dawson shrugged. “I hope we’re not barging in on anything.”
She left her desk and motioned them all in. A man not quite as tall as Dawson, but who had the same strong jaw, the same high forehead and the same patrician nose came in behind his son with his hand on Luke’s shoulder.
His gaze ran over the studio, then up and down Mikala in an assessing way. He extended his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Miss Conti. It’s good to meet you.”
“It’s good to meet you, too. Is this a surprise visit?”
“I called Dawson last night, told him I could get away for a couple of days. So I surprised Luke this morning.”
“Granddad and I are going to spend the whole afternoon together, just the two of us!”
When Mikala searched Dawson’s face, she saw that he didn’t seem upset. He obviously understood the bond between grandfather and grandson. If he felt left out, he wasn’t going to show it.
“What are you going to do today?” Mikala asked Luke.
“I’m going to show him the ice skating rink, then we’re going to the movies and then we’re going for Chinese food.”
“You’ve got the day planned. Sounds good.”
“Can we go now?” Luke asked his grandfather.
“I don’t want to cut this short,” Dawson’s father said in apology.
Mikala was quick to jump in. “I know how much Luke likes spending time with you. Have fun.”
After the two of them left, Dawson came over to Mikala and sat on the corner of her desk. “Luke’s almost a different kid when Dad’s around. It’s great to see. I just wish he could be that way with me.”
“It’s getting better, isn’t it?” Mikala had seen changes between Dawson and Luke since they’d arrived and she hoped he could see the progress, too.
“Yes. He does talk to me sometimes now, but not about the important stuff.”
“You’d be surprised what’s important to a ten-year-old.”
“Maybe so.” Dawson nodded to the package on Mikala’s desk that was wrapped in silver with a glittery white and silver bow. “What’s that?”
His gaze held curiosity and a little more. Did he think the present could be from someone important to her? “It’s from my mother.”
“You don’t sound as if that’s a good thing.”
“I’m almost afraid to open it. This is probably something from her spring line.”
“So open it and see what you think,” he suggested. “I’ll be glad to give you a second opinion.”
At first she hesitated. Then she thought, Why not open it with Dawson here? What did it matter?
It was hard not to look at him while she untied the ribbon and then tore off the paper. Her gaze always seemed to be drawn t
o his. Yet as it was, the electricity she felt was scary in its intensity. Did he feel that, too? Why was it ratcheting up instead of lessening?
Tearing her gaze from his, she lifted off the lid of the box and brushed back the tissue paper. The first piece Mikala lifted out was a lime green top made of a fabric that she knew would fit like a second skin. The neckline was edged with just a wisp of white lace. The skirt that accompanied it was very short, flouncy and flowered. At the bottom of the box she found platform sandals about four inches high. The shoe was strappy with a large red flower in the center.
A piece of paper tucked into one shoe read: Thought you might enjoy these. T. T for Teresa, not Mom.
Just what had Mikala expected? A loving note? A wish-I-could-be-there-with-you, or wish-you-could-be-here-with-me? Get over it, she told herself for the gazillionth time. Your mother left you behind long ago.
She didn’t let anything show. She never let anything show.
“Try them on for me,” Dawson suggested.
“They’re summer clothes and it’s below freezing outside,” she joked.
He motioned toward the fireplace. “It’s warm enough in here. Humor me. Try them on.”
There was a note of challenge in his tone and Mikala suddenly wondered if he thought her clothes were too conservative. They were sedate for her occupation—businesslike when they had to be, but still—
She accepted his challenge, feeling unnerved by the arrival of the package, even more unsettled by the look in Dawson’s eyes as he imagined her in those clothes. On the other hand, she wanted to know exactly what he thought.
Taking the clothes with her into the other room, she shut the door.
Five minutes later, eager to just get the experiment over with, she emerged into the office again and watched Dawson’s smile transform into a wide grin.
“Wow!” was all he said.
The top indeed clung and the V neckline dipped into her cleavage. The hem of the skirt landed mid-thigh and the shoes made her feel like a little girl in her mother’s dress-up clothes.
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