Let There Be Light

by Melissa Storm

  “Can we please just drop this?” Scarlett begged. “I didn’t know who he was then. I didn’t invite him up here today. I have literally done nothing wrong.” She rarely used the word literally because she hated how much the word’s meaning had been warped by her generation. She hoped that using it now would get her friends’ attention, make them realize how serious she was about dropping the subject.

  “You know,” Shane said, as if Scarlett hadn’t spoken at all, “more than two-hundred dogs were taken from his estate in that big raid of 1987. It’s the largest non-puppy mill rescue in recorded history.”

  Scarlett debated leaving the room right then and there, but she knew that would only raise Lauren’s suspicions even more. So, instead, she tried her best to shut them out as she pulled out her smart phone and began to scroll through her Instagram feed.

  “I met him once, the grandfather,” Shane said, struggling to his feet with the help of his cane.

  “Oh, I didn’t know that. What was it like?” Lauren placed a steadying hand on her husband’s arm as he stumbled toward the fridge.

  He took out a Dr. Pepper and tossed one to Lauren, too. He offered Scarlett a soda as well, but she shook her head. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage them to settle in and dig deeper into this conversation.

  They all knew what Henry Mitchell was, so why did they need to keep rehashing it? To continue blaming Scarlett for dancing with him when she didn’t even know who he was?

  “Exactly like you’d expect,” Shane answered after a long, slow drink. “He was rude, arrogant. He put on quite a show, but no one was buying tickets.”

  “Sounds just like the junior.”

  “The third,” Scarlett corrected before she could stop herself. She shrugged, trying to play it off cool. “Junior would be the second Henry, his son. The third is the grandson.”

  Thankfully, Scarlett’s slip seemed to at last break the spell that had ensnared her best friend for the better part of that afternoon.

  Lauren laughed heartily. “Oh, Scar. You can take the girl out of the library, but you can never take the library out of the girl.”

  Scarlett saluted her friend and smiled. “And don’t you forget it. Now, want to go through some of the books I brought for you?”

  Her friend beamed, all traces of the recent rage dissipating right in front of Scarlett’s face. “Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

  I thought you’d never stop, Scarlett mentally added. She just hoped Lauren and Shane had both gotten the need to gossip about the Mitchells out of their systems, because she really didn’t want to hear about—or from—Henry ever again.

  The next morning, Scarlett was left to work the dogs on her own. Lauren and Shane had an appointment in the city and insisted that Scarlett should call with any questions that popped up.

  Lauren had wanted to help the first couple of hours before they had to leave, but Scarlett wanted to try a full day by herself. It was always easier to learn without the training wheels dragging behind. Not that she didn’t enjoy working side by side with her best friend, but she craved the extra responsibility.

  She’d put her job on hold to give this sledding thing a serious attempt, and—by golly—she was going to do it right.

  A part of her also suspected she hadn’t seen the last of Henry Mitchell, III, and she preferred to meet him alone, should she meet him at all. Lauren had gotten far too worked up yesterday, and Scarlett wasn’t about to go asking for a repeat.

  Sure enough, as she was tying her strongest wheel dogs, Fred and Wendy, to her newly rebuilt sled, a sleek, luxury car pulled into the drive.

  She turned toward the sound of spitting ice and salt, just in time to see Henry slam the door of his Mercedes and begin his approach toward the kennels.

  “Lauren isn’t here,” Scarlett called across the slope of land. Today she would not be silenced. Today she would speak her mind—and give Henry a piece of it.

  “I’m not here for her,” he said, raising his hand to wave. “I’m here for you.”

  “For me? You don’t even know me.”

  “Ahh, well, that’s not strictly true. I may not know your name. Yet,” he added with a smile. It was the only authentic one she’d seen from him to date. Her heart tightened defensively as he closed the distance between them and offered his hand in greeting.

  “But I plan to fix that now,” he said cheerily. “Hello, I’m Henry.”

  She took his hand and gave it a single, firm shake—a warning. But was it meant to warn him off bothering her, or meant to tell her own heart that he had no place occupying it?

  “And you are?” he prompted.

  No, she would not give into him that easily. She needed more from him before he’d get anything from here. She glowered at him, unwilling to play into his game simply for the sake of being nice. “Why are you here?”

  “To get your name.” He placed both hands in his pockets, casual, confident, cocky as all get out.

  “If that’s all you came for, then you’re going to be pretty disappointed.” She turned her back to him and checked that the dogs’ harnesses were taut against their backs.

  Henry bent at the waist, trying to make eye contact with her stooped figure. “And to say I’m sorry.”

  She laughed and watched as the little puffs of her breath broke apart in the air.

  “Not exactly the response I was expecting, but I guess it’s better than getting attacked with a snow hook.” He laughed, too—and it felt real, not like the practiced chortle she’d heard him make on his many news interviews.

  “I think we got off on the wrong foot. You don’t seem to have such a good impression of me.” He laughed, this time self-deprecatingly, but Scarlett refused to join in.

  “How could I?” she demanded as she rose to a standing position and faced him nose-to-nose. “Seeing how you act like the world belongs to you? Knowing who you are?”

  He sighed, his confidence shaken for the first time in her presence. “That’s where you’re wrong. You know who my family is, but you don’t know me from Adam.”

  “Whoever Adam is, I’m sure he’s a nicer guy than you,” she spat as she continued to examine her sled and prepare it for its next run. The work kept her mind focused, which is exactly what she needed to ignore the strange feelings that flooded her senses whenever Henry was near. She traced her way back around and stood on the rack, her stance ready.

  Henry followed her as she circled the sled and placed a firm hand on one of the holds beside her own. “Maybe. But could you at least let me explain?”

  She shook her head and looked away. “I don’t owe you anything, and I doubt Lauren and Shane want you on their property. Besides, I have work to do.”

  “Then let me help you,” he seemed to beg. But that was ridiculous. This rich, entitled boy had probably never wanted for a single thing in his entire life.

  And Scarlett refused to give into him now. Rather than saying another word to this second-time trespasser, she yelled for the dogs to “hike!” The sled took off like a shot.

  Less than a second later, something warm slammed into her from behind. In horror, she realized that Henry hadn’t let go of the sled, but had instead used his hold on the grips to pull himself aboard.

  “You didn’t say no!” he shouted over the rushing wind.

  Scarlett jammed her elbow into Henry hard, but still he clung to the sled, his body covering hers part for part.

  “What are you doing?” she cried. “Get off!”

  “Not until you hear me out.” He gripped her wrist above the glove, pushing up on her jacket so that his thumb brushed the small part of her now-exposed skin.

  “If I listen to you, will you leave me alone?” she shouted, hoping the shrill sound of her voice would ring in his ears, give him even half the headache he had given her.

  “Yes.”

  Scarlett didn’t say anything as she considered this.

  “I promise,” he said so softly she wasn’t quite sure
if she’d heard it all. His normal bluster had vanished, and he was now speaking with her like a human being instead of a show pony.

  For once, they actually had privacy and she could be sure that no cameras were directed at them and no friends would barge in on their conversation.

  Which meant Scarlett had three choices then.

  She could turn the sled around and deliver him back to his car.

  She could push him off and let him deal with the consequences of being stranded and injured.

  Or she could hear him out.

  “Please,” Henry said, as if he somehow knew the options that were being passed over in her mind.

  “I’m listening,” she choked out at last.

  His body pushed tighter into hers as he moved his chin to her shoulder, so she could more easily hear his words. Fire threatened to rent her body in two—passion, anger, and a special tingly feeling all in one.

  Would she have agreed to hear him out if her body didn’t react this way to him? Was she being superficial? Betraying her values by even agreeing to speak with him?

  She pushed these questions back to the dark corners of her mind, to be examined and re-examined at a later date. For now, he was talking to her frankly. He was revealing more of his mystery, and she wanted to hear what he had to say—to learn how her mind and her body could disagree so whole-heartedly when it came to this one single, unremarkable man.

  “I didn’t know there were cameras. That night when I asked you to dance. I didn’t know they were watching.”

  “You said you did in your interview.”

  “There’s the truth, and then there’s what you tell the press. They’re usually not the same thing.”

  She expected him to laugh haughtily as he often did, but he remained serious, humble. A part of her understood his point, but it also called into question everything he had told her until now, everything he was about to reveal. If he could lie so easily, then why wouldn’t he lie to her?

  “I’m telling you the truth now,” he said.

  “I’m not sure I can trust you,” she admitted boldly. “I’m not even sure who you are.”

  “I’m just a guy who couldn’t take my eyes away from you, because I just couldn’t believe how beautiful you were in that purple dress. I kept trying to find the perfect way to introduce myself, but nothing seemed good enough. And then you came over yourself.” His words caressed her ear, and she half expected him to lean in to kiss her right there on the back of that speeding sled. She half wanted him to as well.

  She leaned away from him, and the sled jerked from the movement, spoiling the moment as she’d intended.

  When they were back on course, she said, “So now you’re claiming to be shy? How can that be when I’ve never met someone so sure of himself in all his life?”

  He turned his face away with a hiss, and the missing warmth of his breath against her neck made her shiver.

  “There’s who I have to be, and then there’s who I really am.”

  “So, yet again, here you are admitting you’re two-faced, then. Why would that change my mind about you? Just because you tell me I’m pretty, you think that’s enough to justify your behavior? You tried to make me kiss you, said you knew what I wanted. But I make my own decisions. And you know what else? I’m the same person all the time.”

  His voice came out hoarse, cracked—as if a strangled cry was stuck in his throat. “I can tell, and I like that about you. I wish I could be that way, too.”

  “So why can’t you?”

  “You just don’t get what it’s like.”

  Slowly, she felt the shackles on her heart break off and fall behind them in the snow. He was opening up to her. Should she do the same? She still didn’t know what she could offer Henry, but she could start by hearing what he’d come to say. Gently, she said, “Then tell me.”

  Henry’s grip shifted on the holds as if the coming revelation was something he needed to ready himself for just as much as he did her. He cleared his throat, but it still came out hoarse. “My whole life I’ve been groomed by my family—to take over the business, to uphold our reputation, to do exactly what was expected of me, when it was expected. It’s a lot of pressure.”

  “Then why did you? Why didn’t you just tell them no?”

  “I tried. In college, I declared Biology as my major. Wanted to be a doctor one day, to help make people better. Maybe save some lives. But a few weeks into the semester, I got called to the dean’s office and was given my new schedule. Just like that. I called my parents, furious, but my dad was even madder. He yelled and yelled about responsibilities to the family, said I had to major in business or I couldn’t go to college at all.”

  Scarlett could feel his pain as he shared this memory with her. She’d been so worried about achieving both her dreams that she never stopped to consider what it was like for those who couldn’t even grasp one. Henry was living a dream, but it wasn’t his. This wasn’t what he wanted. Did that mean she’d been unfair to him? Did it mean that maybe her heart knew something her brain hadn’t caught onto yet? She felt more confused than ever.

  He waited for her to speak again, and at last she managed, “So you gave up?”

  He chuckled, but she could tell it was forced, a light-hearted defense against a serious problem. “Hardly. I found little ways to rebel here and there, but then when my granddad got sick, everything changed.”

  Scarlett bristled at the mention of the old man. “He was an awful man.”

  “I don’t disagree. I never liked him, never wanted to be like him. Until I had no choice.”

  These words made her feel guilty and disgusted all over again. Back and forth, back and forth went her feelings for Henry Mitchell, III. Where would the spinning wheel finally land? And would she place the right bet before it did? “How could you have no choice?”

  “If I don’t follow his will to the letter, my entire family will go broke. The lawyers have been over that thing a million times, and it is airtight.”

  “What happens to the money if it doesn’t go to your family?”

  “I don’t know exactly where it will all go. Some will go to political funds, some to venture capital. None of it to charity and none of it to us.”

  This made Scarlett livid on his behalf. “But he can’t just do that. It’s ridiculous and cruel!”

  Henry sounded resigned, as if he’d used up all his anger on this matter long ago and simply didn’t have any left to give. “I know that, but I’m not surprised—not from him. He always had to have his own way despite what others needed.”

  “They say you’re just like him.”

  Henry groaned. “I know what they say, and if you believe them, then there’s nothing more I can do.” He shifted one of his hands to cover hers. It was a small gesture, but a shockingly intimate one in that moment. “But something tells me you can see who I really am.”

  “You hardly know me,” she said, wishing she could turn to face him and see what truths his marbled eyes held.

  He brought his lips close to her ear again as he spoke. “I was going to let you go. I was going to let you walk away. That night, we hadn’t informed the media yet about granddad’s death, but I knew what was coming—the ridiculous journey through that stupid list, the constant media attention. Why would I willingly bring anyone into that?”

  “So you let me go.”

  “I didn’t want to, but I’m not like him. I care about other people. I promise you. I never wanted to upset you. I never asked to be a Mitchell. I never asked for any of this.”

  Scarlett’s heart broke for him. If you didn’t feel wanted in your own family, then where in the world could you call home? Here was a homeless billionaire, asking her to see him for more than his reputation.

  “I didn’t get your name or number. I thought for sure I’d never see you again,” he continued. “Until I showed up here looking for the Ramseys, and there you were. And I just knew that I found you again for a reason. Do you believe in fat
e, that the stars can align to bring two people together?”

  “I don’t know what I believe,” she said, but even as she looked out over the crisp white snow paving their way, the sloping land rising to meet them, the clear skies embracing it all, she knew exactly what she believed. She, too, knew Henry Mitchell, III had come into her life for a reason. She needed to say something that would matter. She needed him to know she understood even if no one else did.

  “Scarlett.”

  “What?”

  “You said you didn’t get my name, so I’m giving it to you. It’s Scarlett. My name is Scarlett.”

  It didn’t take long to finish the dog’s exercise with the added weight of Henry on the sled, and soon they were back at the kennels, their journey together over.

  “C’mon, Fred.” Scarlett released her favorite dog, a Malamute who ran as a wheel dog for the team, from the harness and led him back over to his house. When she finished retying him, she turned to see Henry marching through the rows of houses as Wendy led him to her place.

  She watched as he completed the task quickly and competently.

  “You’re kind of a natural at this,” she admitted when Henry returned to her side.

  “I love dogs,” he said with a wistful glance back toward Wendy. “Once when I was little, maybe seven, I snuck out to granddad’s kennels to play with his, and I was so shocked by the mess and how skinny and angry they all were. All I could do was stand there and cry until my mom came to bring me back inside.”

  “That must have been awful,” she said, placing a consoling hand on his arm.

  Henry nodded. “It was. I wanted to help, but I couldn’t do a single thing for them. When I got a little older, I realized some people lived like that, too. Not tied up, per se, but hungry, tortured, angry. It’s what made me want to be a doctor.”

  She recognized the passion in his voice. It was the same in hers whenever she talked about books or dog sledding. She couldn’t imagine life without either. “You still could be,” she pointed out, even though she knew it couldn’t be that simple.