Be Mine at Christmas

by Brenda Novak

  “To use her, and the thought of that turns my stomach.”

  Both his parents stared at him.

  “She’s not that type,” he explained, trying to counter the level of emotion with which he’d responded. “She won’t sleep with him if she has a choice, but…I’m afraid he won’t give her one. So, you see? She could be in danger.”

  Gabe and his mother exchanged a knowing look. “That’s what I thought,” his stepfather said.

  Ken looked from one to the other. “What?”

  “You’ve got it bad.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “That fear gnawing at your gut?”

  “That has nothing to do with…with what you’re inferring,” Ken snapped.

  His stepfather smiled. “It doesn’t?”

  “No!” he said. But then he remembered how it had felt to touch Cierra in the Jacuzzi and how panic-stricken he’d been since finding her gone. “I feel guilty that Brent made her think I didn’t want her around,” he said, but he knew Gabe wasn’t buying his denials. Neither was his mother.

  “Sure you do,” Hannah said with a laugh. Then she stood. “Come on. Let’s head back to Stu’s. I’ll go to the door this time. It won’t be as intimidating to open up to a woman. I’m less likely to break his face for stealing my girl.”

  “Stop it,” Ken grumbled, but he couldn’t deny that he felt relief at the prospect of finally being able to talk to Cierra.

  FROM WHERE HE SAT, parked down the road and out of direct view of the windows, Ken watched his mother approach Baker’s door. She knocked, waited, knocked again. Then she turned to face them and shrugged as if to say she wasn’t having any luck.

  A third knock brought no better result. Finally, she started back.

  “Shit,” Ken grumbled, and got out before she could reach the Land Rover.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he stalked toward her.

  “I’m going in.”

  She tried to bar his path. “You can’t do that! You could go to jail for breaking and entering.”

  “Then I’ll go to jail.”

  “Gabe?” she called, glancing past him to her husband.

  Gabe had opened his car door when Ken got out. “Let him go,” he advised. “Maybe he’s right about this girl’s safety.”

  “I’m worried about his safety,” she muttered, but stepped out of the way, “Be careful,” she added.

  “I’ll be fine,” he told her. “Stay with Gabe.”

  Fortunately, she seemed to understand that he didn’t need anything more to worry about and did as he asked.

  Stu Baker’s house looked as empty as it had on his previous visits. The only thing different was the tire tracks. Two lines cut through the snow on the drive—evidence that he’d left last night and possibly today.

  Ken didn’t bother with the front door. That was a waste of time. Instead, he went around to the back and checked every window. He was hoping to see inside, to get some idea of whether or not Cierra was there, but the windows were covered so completely they might as well have been blacked out.

  With its low-ceiling and tacked-on look, the room at the back was more like a shed or a storage area. But this door was warped and far flimsier than the one in front. Ken felt he’d have a greater chance of forcing it open.

  Lowering his shoulder, he rammed it, and wasn’t too surprised when the lock popped. He’d spent years in football perfecting his ability to hit. He was good at it. But it hurt a lot less with pads.

  “Baker!” He stood in the open doorway, rubbing his shoulder.

  No response.

  “Hey, Baker?” He’d been right about the room. It had a dirt floor, black plastic covering the windows and smelled like a cellar. Maybe there was a door to a cellar in here somewhere but, if so, Ken couldn’t see it. Stacks of magazines and newspapers, empty soda bottles and beer cans, old clothing, cat hair and God knew what else covered the floor and various, worn-out furniture.

  “Cierra?” Wading through the mess, Ken headed for the next room. An accordion-style partition led into the regular part of the house. When he opened it and peered through, he could see light in the front and moved toward it—until he heard a noise from one of the side rooms he’d already passed. Whirling around, he dodged a blow that probably would’ve cracked his skull.

  As he feinted to his left, the lamp Baker held came down on a wooden chair, shattering the glass middle section. “What are you doing in my house?” he screamed. “What do you want from me? How dare you come in here without permission!”

  As Baker raised the lamp again, Ken prepared to take further evasive action. “I’m looking for Cierra. Did she come here?”

  “No! Get out!”

  Hoping to forestall another swing, or give himself more room to maneuver, Ken backed up. But he wasn’t leaving, not until he had Cierra. “I’m talking about Cierra Romero. The woman from Guatemala you were expecting. She left my cabin this morning. I think she was on her way here.”

  “If she was, she never showed up. Now get out.”

  Ken wasn’t sure whether to believe him. But she didn’t seem to be here now, and that made him wonder if he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. “You’d tell me if she did, right? Because if I find out you’re lying, I’ll be the one taking the swings.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  Ken didn’t bother denying it. “Damn right.”

  “You don’t see her, do you?” A scrawny cat wandered into the room to see what all the fuss was about. Baker moved it to one side with his foot—a none-too-gentle motion—but he seemed to be calming down and he’d lowered the hand with the lamp. “Because she’s not here. I don’t even know what she looks like.”

  What did that mean? Had she already left the area? Hitchhiked out? Possibly. She’d hitchhiked here to begin with, hadn’t she? But the idea of her alone on the road again upset Ken. It was so dangerous. And how would he ever find her? “Shit!”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.” The smugness in Baker’s voice irritated Ken but at least the idiot had put his broken lamp on the table. “Now, will you go? I shouldn’t have to point out that you’re trespassing.”

  “Sorry.” Suddenly Ken felt foolish for strong-arming his way in without proof that Cierra was here. “I’ll pay to replace your back door. The lamp’s on you. If you’d answered when I knocked, this could’ve been avoided.”

  “I don’t have to answer your knock if I don’t want to. There’s no law that says I can’t ignore you. But I can fix the door myself,” Baker grumbled. “Just get out and leave me alone.”

  “Fine.” Shoving a hand through his hair, Ken headed back the way he’d come in. But he had enough reservations about what Baker had told him that when he passed the kitchen, he snapped on a light.

  “What are you doing?” Baker snarled.

  “I can’t see,” he said. But he’d really been thinking about all the time Cierra had spent in his kitchen. He knew that if she was here that was the first thing she’d clean.

  Unfortunately, the kitchen was as filthy as the rest of the house.

  Convinced at last, he was about to turn off the light when he stepped on something—something so small he wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise. But when he glanced down to see what it was, he was awfully glad he’d put his foot where he had.

  Baker was lying.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  KEN LEFT BAKER’S HOUSE with the knuckles of his right hand scraped and bleeding.

  His mother and Gabe both opened their doors when they saw him. “What happened?” Hannah called. Gabe said nothing. He simply waited until Ken climbed behind the wheel for an explanation.

  “The bastard told me she never came here,” he said, smacking the steering wheel.

  Two thuds sounded as they shut their doors. “You don’t believe him?” Hannah asked.

  Straightening his leg so he could reach inside his pocket, he pulled out the porcelain Christ child he’d found
on the floor and handed it to his mother in the passenger seat. “This proves she did.”

  She studied it. “This is her figurine?”

  He didn’t explain that it was actually his. He didn’t care about the decorations; he’d bought them for her. “Yes.”

  Hannah motioned toward Baker’s shack. “So what happened in there?”

  Ken shook the pain from his hand, then started the car. “Nothing much. One punch and Baker was ready to tell the truth.”

  Hannah put the Christ child in the tray on the console. “And that is?”

  “She was here, but now she’s gone.” Making a U-turn, he drove toward the main highway.

  “You’re sure she’s gone?” Gabe asked.

  Ken sighed as he drove. “I searched the whole place. Baker said she came for a couple of hours but decided not to stay.”

  “Why wouldn’t he tell you that from the beginning?”

  “That’s what has me worried. I’m guessing he doesn’t want me to find her, doesn’t want me to talk to her. Maybe I won’t be happy about what I hear.”

  Hannah turned on the heat. “So where did she go?”

  “Who knows?” he replied. “Supposedly, she left with two old women. But that’s probably a lie, too. She doesn’t know anyone else.”

  “Did you ask Baker for any names?”

  “I did. He said he didn’t get a close enough look to recognize who it was.”

  His mother frowned. “What were they driving?”

  “A red ’57 Chevy. But I’ve never seen a truck like that in Dundee.”

  “I have,” Gabe said. “It belongs to Deanna and Darla Channing.”

  The pain in Ken’s hand suddenly vanished. “Who?”

  Gabe smiled. “Two old women. They live up the canyon from my place—your place now.”

  They’d reached the main road, but Ken didn’t turn. Letting the engine idle, he used the rearview mirror to look at his stepfather. “You’re positive about that? There aren’t a lot of those trucks on the streets anymore. I would’ve noticed it had I seen it around here.”

  “You haven’t been home long enough. They just inherited it from their father, who lived in Boise. They haven’t had it more than six months.”

  Feeling a resurgence of hope, of purpose, Ken glanced at the Christ child Cierra had taken and lost. “How do I get to their place?”

  “Just head on up the hill. I’ll give you directions from there.”

  KEN HAD EXPECTED finding Cierra to be the most difficult part of his day; he hadn’t expected her to refuse to see him once he did.

  “She’s here, but…she won’t come down.” Deanna shrugged apologetically when she returned to the living room, where he and his parents were waiting.

  Ken blinked in surprise. “Why not?”

  Deanna moved closer. “She’s pretty upset,” she whispered. “She was running down the street when we came upon her, with Stu Baker chasing her. She won’t say what happened but…judging by the bruise on her cheek, there was a tussle.”

  “A tussle?” Ken repeated.

  “That’s how it appears. We didn’t get to hear Stuart’s side. As soon as he saw her get in the truck with us, he took off for the house.”

  No wonder Baker wouldn’t open his door and had tried to hit him with a lamp. He’d probably assumed Ken knew Cierra had been hurt and had come for retribution.

  The look on his face must’ve revealed his rage, because Deanna lifted her hands in a placating gesture. “From what I can tell, it didn’t go too far. Cierra’s strong, determined. She got away before anything…serious could occur. But…she’s understandably rattled.”

  Attacking her wasn’t serious? “I want to see her,” Ken said.

  “I can’t force her to come down,” Deanna responded. “Maybe if you give her some time, come back in the morning—”

  “I’m not leaving. I have a job for her, a position in Boise, with someone I know and trust. Unless you can offer her as much, tell her to come down.”

  Deanna’s older sister walked into the room. Ken had the impression she’d been listening while working in the kitchen. “You should have her go with him,” she murmured to her sister. “The way things are now she’ll only run away the minute we’re not looking. You heard her when we got her in the truck. She kept saying Baker was going to call the immigration people, that she had to leave town right away.”

  Ken’s mother got to her feet. “Do you think he really called them?”

  Gabe wheeled his chair forward until he drew even with her. “He’d better not have.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Ken said. “We need to get her out of here.”

  With a nod of agreement, Deanna went back upstairs and eventually returned with Cierra, whose sweatshirt was stretched out, as if someone had been yanking on it. The deep scratch on her neck and the bruise on her cheek made Ken wish he’d done a lot more damage to Stu Baker than he had. “You okay?” he asked.

  As usual, she raised her chin, daring the world to bring her to her knees. “Sí.”

  Although Ken was dying to know the details—so he could hold Baker accountable for what he’d done—he didn’t ask about her ordeal. Cierra was a private person and the situation at Baker’s had no doubt embarrassed her. She wouldn’t want to talk about it in front of anyone else. Instead, he introduced his parents, whom Cierra met with as much polite reserve and dignity as if they were royalty.

  “Ken has some good news for you,” his mother announced.

  “I found you a job,” he said. “A good job.”

  Cierra lifted a hand. “I know you…are trying to be nice. You have been kind to me, and I am…grateful, sí? But I will go my own way now.”

  “Just hear me out,” he said. “It’s in Boise, which is an hour and a half from here. Even if Baker called ICE, they won’t find you. Not if we leave right away. And my friend really needs you.”

  It was obvious she hadn’t planned to let him sway her, but when she heard that his friend needed her, she hesitated, and Ken realized how important it was to her that the need be legitimate. “It’s true,” he continued. “This is no favor. His wife, the mother of his three children, left them last year to pursue a modeling career. He’s a busy man, trying to run his import company, and he could use a housekeeper and caregiver for his children. Since many of his imports come from South America, he’s very excited that you speak Spanish.”

  “The children…their mother left them for a career? She could no do both?” From Cierra’s expression, it was clear that she couldn’t conceive of making such a choice. “Who is watching the children now?”

  “A nanny who’s getting married and moving away.” Ken was getting through to her, he could tell. “So what do you say? Will you at least give it a try? I know you’ll like Larry. He’s a good guy who’s been through a lot and could really use a break. And he’s offering room and board and fifteen hundred dollars a month.”

  It was a fair offer. Ken hoped her pride wouldn’t keep her from accepting it.

  “But your friend has not even met me,” she said.

  Forever the skeptic. “I told him how wonderful you are.”

  She blushed at the compliment, and her eyes shifted to his parents before returning to his face. “I will help him. Of course I will help.”

  Relieved, Ken smiled and felt his heart skip a beat when she smiled back. “Good. Let’s go.”

  THE HOUSE WAS BEAUTIFUL, a mansion. Cierra had never seen anything like it. At five foot seven and at least two hundred and fifty pounds, Larry wasn’t nearly as handsome as Ken, but he was nice. She immediately felt safe around him and, as far as she was concerned, the children—three girls ages eight, six and four—were a bonus. They had to take her to the Christmas tree first thing to point out all the brightly wrapped packages that waited there for them.

  Their innocence settled on her like new-fallen snow, helping her slough off the memories of Baker—what he’d said, what he’d done and what he’d att
empted to do. The hours spent dealing with him, the fight that had erupted when she refused to disrobe, didn’t matter anymore. He hadn’t got what he wanted. And she already felt like someone else, someone stronger and better than the poverty-stricken immigrant she’d seen through his eyes.

  Maybe that was partly because she now wore one of the dresses Ken’s mother had given her. Hannah had said Cierra could pay her back out of her first check if she wanted to, but that she should look presentable for her job, and she’d been right. Cierra liked the way the dress floated around her knees, the stylish tights that went underneath and the ankle-high boots Ken had insisted they buy. She hadn’t felt so pretty in a long time.

  Glancing up from where she sat on the floor, admiring all the Christmas gifts with the girls, she found Ken watching her and couldn’t help grinning back at him. On the drive, he’d told her he’d come to Boise often to see her. But she didn’t believe him. He’d probably get together with Tiffany as his family expected. Then he’d forget all about her. But she was glad to have known him for the week she had. She’d always treasure the memory of their kiss in the Jacuzzi. That was the best Christmas present she could think of.

  He surprised her by staying longer than she’d thought he would—for dinner and a movie. She guessed he was trying to help her make the transition, to be sure she felt safe and happy, and that made her love him all the more.

  When the movie ended, Larry said his goodbyes to Ken. Then he went in search of the children’s current nanny, who’d been on the phone with her fiancé most of the night, so she could get the children to bed.

  “What happened with Baker?” Ken asked as Cierra walked him to the door.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He lowered his voice. “Did he attack you?”

  “Ken…”

  “I’m calling the police.”

  “No! He told me I cannot…press charges? Is that the right words?” When he nodded she went on. “They will send me back to Guatemala if I try.”

  “Then I’ll handle it on my own.”

  “By fighting? You will go to jail, and I already have a brother in prison. It is not worth it. I am fine now.”