Christmas Paradise

by Gale Storm

  “Tarry, look at me."

  She turned her head so they were facing each other.

  “I must ask you a question, sweetheart."

  She tilted her head, waiting.

  “I...” He paused then continued as if he was measuring each word before he said it. “You have made a great difference in my life, Tarralee. You've added a special ingredient that wasn't there before, and I know it will never be the same again without you. I don't want to lose it or you. But I'm afraid that is exactly what may happen. Tell me why you're frightened of me?"

  “Afraid of you?” She repeated, looking him straight in the eye. “I've never been frightened of you, of anyone."

  He chuckled lightly. “Okay, I'll believe that. I've definitely seen enough evidence. You're the most fearless soul I've ever encountered. Yet the other night, when I suggested you become my partner, my lover and friend, you made me feel like the villain who threatened to tie the heroine to the train tracks."

  She was surprised that he had no idea why she had been hurt by his proposal. She continued to stare into his eyes. “You're not a villain, Tyrone. A rogue, maybe, a dark-bearded devil, but not a villain. Your eyes are too gentle.” Those eyes now were mesmerizing her and she felt her heart thud against her breastbone. “Tyrone, I'm not sure I can make you understand this, but I'm going to try."

  He waited expectantly.

  “I grew up watching my parents. They were very much in love with one another. I can remember Dad kissing Mom and teasing her, and I can remember her blushes, his warm smiles. They were happy, and very passionate. They never apologized to us kids for their obvious devotion to each other. As a matter of fact, they ingrained in us the value of that devotion. I suppose I have always wanted the same type of relationship. Your suggestion the other night was miles away from what they had, what my dreams have always been. I've had very little over the years, Tyrone, and I've asked for less; but in this one thing I must get it or nothing at all."

  She looked out over the white landscape, noticing that it appeared gray again to her. Where was the crystalline beauty of only a few moments ago? Why was there a pain in her chest and why did she feel like crying?

  “But, Tarry, I'm more than willing to give you my entire life—everything except a wedding ring."

  She shook her head slowly from side to side.

  “It isn't a ring that I want, Tyrone. If you don't understand that, then you'll never understand me."

  He pushed to his feet, a frown marring his brow.

  “No, I don't understand, Tarry. You're talking in riddles again. What in hell do you want me to give you?"

  She stared at him, surprised that he could ask that question or become angry. She wasn't about to lead him into saying that he loved her. If he couldn't manage those words on his own, then it wasn't worth an explanation from her. She also pushed to her feet.

  “I don't want anything material from you, Tyrone. But I do need understanding, cuddling and love. If you can't comprehend those simple needs, then we have no future."

  He shook his head as if trying to clear it. “You're not making sense, woman. Of course, I understand you. You're an independent woman, and you think I'm threatening that independence. You're afraid I'm going to take you away from this mountain, away from your wolves and everything you love. But I wouldn't do that. I couldn't do that because I know you would soon wither away like an autumn rose garden. You're so tiny and tough yet fragile you frighten me, Tarry. I don't know what to say or to do to convince you I would never willingly hurt you, that I care about you; and I'm more than willing to wrap you in a big bear hug and keep you safe from the world and its woes."

  But he was hurting her even as he spoke. He did not love her, and that was all that mattered.

  “I'm very sorry, Tyrone. I wish I knew a way of explaining this to you. I'm not very educated, and I'm too inexperienced and naive to discuss this with a man as experienced as you."

  Angrily he interrupted her. “Not educated, too naive to communicate your desires, ridiculous. All you have to do is turn those beautiful eyes on a man to have him eating out of your hand. Look at Jason or Michael or me, if you need proof."

  Tarry tried to make him see how absurd his words were.

  “That's silly. I've never tried to ... to—” She could hardly believe what she was hearing as Tyrone broke across her protest.

  “You definitely have what attracts men, Tarralee. Don't put yourself down again, I won't stand for it. As I've said before, all you lack is experience. Once you gain that, you'll have the entire male population in a whirl. Look at me.” He reached out and touched her shoulder.

  She stood perfectly still as he stared into her eyes.

  “Tarry, you're so pretty, so sweet-natured it's easy to take advantage of you. I don't want to do that, but unless you tell me what you're thinking I'm likely to do all the wrong things."

  “I'm thinking we should get back to the cabin. I'm getting chilled, and I'm sure Ramona will need help with the evening meal.” She was astonished that her voice could sound so cool when her whole life was falling in ruins around her feet. Ty didn't care enough to admit to love, the greatest bonding emotion on the planet.

  Tyrone threw up his hands in exasperation. “If I live to make a million documentaries I will never understand women,” he growled. “Every woman I've ever met is the same. Total mysteries."

  Tarry giggled, suddenly enjoying the puzzled expression on his face. It surprised her that he had not learned long ago that what a woman most wanted from her man were his love and trust.

  He glared at her as her laughter continued. “Now what's so funny? Did I say something funny?"

  “Not really. Actually, it was rather sad.” She started up the path toward the cabin. It took him a moment to follow, but very quickly he took the lead.

  The rest of Christmas day passed quietly. Her brothers collapsed in front of the TV watching movie after movie, and Tarry helped Ramona keep up a continual production line of food coming out of the kitchen. It was a slow, relaxing day, and she knew everyone was enjoying themselves. Everyone except her. Oh, she laughed and teased her brothers, Charley and Gary constantly, finding she had to avoid Michael as he made it plain that he wanted to touch her. Her head was hurting by nightfall, and she knew she still had the long evening to get through.

  They had all helped to finish preparing an elaborate turkey dinner and then taken an hour to get ready for the grand finale, as Gary called it. For that was what dinner was to be, accompanied by champagne, which Ramona and Charley had brought, and ginger ale for Gary.

  Since it was to be the last meal she would have with her brothers before they left tomorrow, Tarry was prepared to make the most of it. She would surprise them with the lovely dress she had bought in Los Angeles. She carefully made up her face, her lips, wanting to portray a beautiful and desirable woman instead of the tomboy everyone seemed to believe she was.

  She walked out into the hallway and smiled at John and David as they moved toward the stairs.

  At their silence she asked, “Well, how do I look?” She swirled gracefully, watching the full skirt billow around her legs. “Guys?"

  She looked worriedly at her brothers as she stopped. Both looked very attractive and adult in their Christmas best.

  “Words would be an injustice,” David said slowly. John Huxley shook his head from side to side. A wide grin lifted his lips.

  “You're beautiful, Tarry.” He glanced into her eyes, seeing the instant doubt darken them. “No, I mean it, Sis. You've grown beautiful. You've changed. Almost as if the lightest breeze would blow you away."

  “And the dress?” Tarry probed.

  “Worth every penny you paid for it and more, I'm sure,” David supplied.

  Tarralee glanced in the mirror that hung on the wall before her. Her dark hair glowed like a raven's wing, the soft curls drawing attention to her slender neck. At her ears, she wore pearls from her parents that had been her fifteenth birthday pre
sent the week before their deaths. She had lost weight, giving her face an ethereal beauty, as John Huxley said. Her dark sapphire eyes glowed with an inner light of self-confidence that surprised her. She credited the light to the beauty of the dress as she caught her brothers’ arms as they led the way downstairs.

  To say that everyone was stunned by the change in her would have been the understatement of the year. Gary came up to her, his eyes alight with admiration.

  “Golly, Tarry, you're beautiful. Can I sit beside you at dinner?"

  “Of course, Gary.” She took his arm and allowed him to lead her to the table. Everything was waiting, and after David had led the gathering in prayer, the sound of laughter and cutlery filled the air. She was too absorbed in flirting with Gary to notice that Michael and Tyrone hadn't taken their eyes off her.

  When the meal was over, they all settled in front of the TV set as Tyrone stood and made an introduction to his movie Clay Maker. Michael and Gary sat close beside her, Michael with his arm across her shoulders as everyone found a comfortable spot to settle in.

  At one o'clock, he gently shook her awake. His face was very close to hers as she lifted her head from his shoulder; their lips touched. It was a gentle touch, nothing passionate or meant to frighten her; but instantly she jerked her head back and stared at him in surprise.

  “The others went to bed half an hour ago. I don't mind spending the entire night holding you, love, but my arm's asleep."

  Tarry blinked and frowned. When had she fallen asleep? The TV was turned off, and the only light came from the kitchen. Hastily, she stood up, only to immediately fall back against the couch. Michael was sitting on the full skirt, preventing her from escaping. He rubbed his arm. She knew it was painful as he flinched.

  “I don't recall falling asleep, Michael. I remember the scene when the boy falls in the pit and the rescue, but nothing after that."

  “I knew you fell asleep early on, Tarry, but not that early. Surely, you were awake when Tyrone put on his other winner."

  She shook her head, perplexed that she could sleep through two movies. “I'm terribly sorry, Michael. I..."

  “No reason to be sorry. I enjoyed every second of being close to you.” She frowned at him as his arm came across her shoulders again. “You haven't been told often that you're one heck of a beautiful lady, I bet."

  Laughing, she pushed his arm aside and tugged on her skirt as she stood.

  “You're a flirt, Michael. I like you, but I'm tired."

  “Then allow me to carry you up the stairs to your room."

  She smiled at him. “What about your hurt ankle?"

  “Mended like my heart, Tarry. I came here a man disillusioned and lovesick; but since meeting you, I feel I could move a mountain."

  She giggled.

  “Then if it is healed, you won't have a problem leaving with the others tomorrow."

  Tyrone stepped out of the kitchen shadows, his voice strangely soft, yet sharp like the point of a dagger. Tarry wondered how long he had been there, how much he had heard as she faced him.

  Michael had stepped away from her, his pleasant face a mask in the shadows. He lifted a shoulder. “That would depend on Tarry, wouldn't you say?"

  “Ah, Tarry and her generous spirit.” Tyrone's voice was low. “I doubt seriously that she will want you here when she finds out that you're a liar and a thief, Mike."

  What was Tyrone doing? He was now standing to her side facing Michael. The aggressive expression that narrowed his eyes made her remember the afternoon he had shot Cedar. Then, later, when she had slapped him.

  “Those are awful strong words, Tyrone. I'm only doing my job and you know it."

  Tarry glanced between the two men completely lost. They spoke as if they knew each other well. But that was impossible, wasn't it?

  She reached out and touched Tyrone's arm, making him look at her. “What's going on? Why are you insulting Michael, a welcomed guest in my home?"

  “Ask him.” Tyrone rested his hands on his hips, looking straight at Michael. “And he'll tell you the truth or he'll wish he had broken his leg in the fall."

  Her eyes met Michael's.

  “It isn't as bad as he makes it sound, Tarry. I'm not an escaped con or a rapist. I'm an investigative reporter for a newspaper."

  She shook her head in confusion. “A reporter?"

  “For a trash rag that specializes in lies and crap about Hollywood personalities. I've sued them twice, and they're out for blood this time.” Tyrone's normally cool voice was harsh as he continued to glare at Michael.

  “I'll admit the paper does print trash more often than not, but it's what the people want or they wouldn't buy it. Our stories are only exaggerated truths, not lies."

  “Rubbish. They willingly scandalize even the most innocent of victims. And you are the very best, aren't you, Mike?"

  “Michael?” Tarry looked at him, hoping he would refute Tyrone's words. He sighed and lifted a shoulder.

  “I did meet Tarry innocently. I was enjoying an escape to the mountains when her team ran me down. I never planned to—"

  “You're protecting your hide. An easy lie to confuse her and throw me off your tail, buddy. Listen, and listen good, Mike. If I see, hear or read anything about this Christmas tête-à-tête I will sue you for everything you own."

  The threat was spoken in the same controlled tones Tyrone had used all along. But the impact on Michael was startling. He immediately swallowed, a fine layer of perspiration breaking out on his upper lip.

  “Okay, okay. I'll leave in the morning with the others, and I'll never write anything about your precious little woman. Your virgin lover, I believe you said the other night. But I will write about a hussy who seduced a great director and took him for everything he's got—no names, but mysterious photos will suggest—"

  The last words moved Tarry to action. “His what? What did you say?"

  “Why the shock, Tarry? Your voices were loud enough the other night when you fought to wake a regiment."

  A flash of heat shot through her and she swung her fist, colliding with Michael's jaw. Michael stumbled backwards, his hand instantly on his face. His eyes registered shock.

  “That wasn't a very good idea. Striking a reporter in his line of duty is suicide. You've quite a temper, lady. Also one hell of a punch.” Michael rubbed his chin.

  “Just be glad she hit you instead of me. I think you've managed to destroy the Christmas spirit in all of us. Good night, Mike."

  “Not so fast.” Tarry turned on Tyrone, disgusted with his arrogance. “I want you both out of my home in the morning; and I don't want to see, hear, or speak to either of you again. As for your pet movie project, Tyrone, there are other trainers, other mushers. Find them, use them, and then...” Then what? Without completing the sentence she turned, marching up the stairs as tears stung her eyes.

  Men. They were all the same. All arrogant and dominating and unconcerned about the hurt or disillusionment of others. Why couldn't they remain like Gary, simple and direct? Why did everything have to be confused with scandal, sex and greed? Why had Tyrone acted so aggressive when he really didn't care for her? Oh, he cared for her on one level. Sex. But one level was not enough. It could never be enough for her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tarry listened as everyone made their way downstairs to the kitchen the next morning. Then she heard their voices raised in question, and later their hushed sounds as they climbed the stairs and gathered their personal belongings. Then the disjointing sound of the helicopter as it rose and disappeared.

  Her heart felt like a piece of lead. By ordering Tyrone and Michael out of her house, she was not only ruining their Christmas and New Year's, but hers and her brothers’ as well. She had always loved the Christmas season, honored it with high spirits and love, doing everything necessary to keep her brothers happy and relaxed through this most powerful of family times. She had never allowed any show of depression. Now she felt sick with emptiness and doubt. Had
she acted rashly last night with Tyrone and Michael? Why couldn't she keep her big mouth shut? Tyrone had offered to meet her halfway. He had been kind, considerate and charming. He had a strength of character that she admired and an imagination that left her awed. He appeared to respect her. He wanted to protect her, shelter her from the world, but she couldn't allow that. She didn't know why.

  At last, she concluded she was a coward not to face her family before they left. She lacked energy to move or desire to explain. Lying under the blankets, she fought back tears. Though the tears had broken though during the night, she wouldn't cry in the daylight where others could see. She hadn't cried when her parents died, and she would not cry just because the love of her life was gone. It was over, and survival always went to the fittest. She might not have moved all that day, except that a solid knock sounded at her door around ten.

  When it was repeated, she called, “Come in."

  She fought back a wave of disappointment as John Huxley entered. She had prayed it would be Tyrone. John closed the door and walked to her side and sat. For a moment he studied her face, reading for himself the message in her swollen eyes.

  “Tarralee, can I do anything to help?"

  “No.” She shook her head as a smile curved her dry lips. “They're gone, aren't they?” She removed the covers from her face as she asked.

  “You know they are."

  “David, the others?"

  “David and Dwayne skied down the mountain this morning. I'll leave with Danny and Don after lunch."

  “I'm very sorry for spoiling everything for everyone. I'll write to Ramona and Charley and explain. I never..."

  He patted her hand. “It's okay. We're not sorry. Instead, we're all worried about you, Tarry. We don't want you to spend the rest of the winter up here alone."

  “I don't plan to stay here,” she stated. “I've been thinking about going to Alaska."

  “By yourself?” Her brother eyed her worriedly.

  “Of course not, I'll have the dogs.” She smiled at him, her sense of humor returning.

  “I know you think of the dogs as individuals, that they're your friends, and you believe they'll protect you. But Tarry, they are only dogs after all. They can only give you so much you need—"