'Tis The Season: Under the Christmas TreeMidnight ConfessionsBackward Glance

by Robyn Carr

  “You faint?”

  She nodded, panic etched on her face. “Right after I get sick.”

  He rolled his eyes. That was all he needed. “Do not get out of the car!”

  “Don’t worry,” she said as he was exiting.

  Drew assessed the deer before he took a closer look at the car. The deer was dead, bleeding from legs and head, eyes wide and fixed, blood running onto the white snow. There was some hood and grille damage, but the car might be drivable if he didn’t have a smashed windshield. It was laminated glass, so it had gone all veiny like a spiderweb. He’d have to find a way to get that big buck off and then, if he drove it, he’d have a hard time seeing through the cracked glass.

  He pulled out his cell phone and began snapping pictures, but in the dark it was questionable what kind of shots he’d get.

  He leaned back in the car. “Can I borrow your camera? It has a nice, big flash, right?”

  “Borrow it for what?”

  “To get some pictures of the accident. For insurance.”

  “Should I take them?” she asked.

  “I don’t know if you’ll have time before you get sick and faint.”

  Blood. That meant there was blood. “Okay—but let me show you how.” She pulled the camera bag from the backseat, took the camera out and gave him a quick lesson, then sat quietly, trying not to look at the dead deer staring at her as light flashed in her peripheral vision.

  But then, curious about where Drew was, she looked out the cracked windshield and what she saw almost brought tears to her eyes. With the camera hanging at his side from his left hand, he looked down at the poor animal and, with his right hand, gave him a gentle stroke.

  Then he was back, handing her the camera. “Did you pet that dead deer?” she asked softly.

  He gave his head a little nod. “I feel bad. I wish I’d seen him in time. Poor guy. I hope he doesn’t have a family somewhere.”

  “Aw, Drew, you’re just a tender heart.”

  “Here’s what we have to do,” he said, moving on. “We’re going to have to walk the rest of the way. Fortunately it’s only a couple of miles.”

  “Shouldn’t we stay with the car? I’ve always heard you should stay with the car. What if someone comes looking for us?”

  “It will be too cold. I can’t keep it running all night. And if anyone gets worried by how long we’re gone, they’re going to look in Fortuna or Eureka. Or at least the route to those towns, which is where you told them we were going.” He lifted a brow. “Why do you suppose you did that?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t want my uncle Nate to think we were going somewhere to be alone. Dumb. Very dumb.”

  “I need a phone, a tow truck and a warm place to wait, so here’s what’s going to happen. Hand me the camera case.” She zipped it closed and he hung it over his shoulder. “There’s a big flashlight in the glove box. Grab it—I’ll have to light our way when we clear the headlights. Now slide over here and when you get out, either shield or close your eyes until I lead you past the deer, because the way my night’s going if you get sick, it’ll be on me.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I smell it,” she said. “Ick, I can smell it!”

  “Close your eyes and your nose,” he said. “Let’s get past this, all right?”

  She slid over, put her feet on the ground and stood. And her spike heels on her boots sank into the frozen, snowy ground. “Uh-oh,” she said.

  “Oh, brother. So, what if I broke the heels off those boots? Would you be able to walk in them?”

  She gasped! “They’re six-hundred-dollar Stuart Weitzman boots!”

  He looked at her levelly for a long moment. “I guess the photography business is going very, very well.”

  “I had to console myself a little after being left at the church. Giving them up now would be like another... Oh, never mind...”

  “You’re right,” he said. “I must have lost my mind.” He eased her backward, lifted her onto the seat with her legs dangling out. Then he positioned the heavy camera bag around his neck so it hung toward the front. Next he turned his back to her, braced his hands on his knees and bent a little. “Piggyback,” he said. “Let’s move it.”

  “I’m too heavy.”

  “No, Sunny, you’re not.”

  “I am. You have no idea how much I weigh.”

  “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s not too much.”

  “I’ll go in my socks. It’s just a couple of miles...”

  “And get frostbite and from then on you’ll be putting your prosthetic feet into your Stuart Weitzmans.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “The sooner we do this, the sooner we’re warm and with help on the way.”

  Sunny only thought about it for a second—she was getting cold and she liked her feet, didn’t want to give them up to frostbite. She grumbled as she climbed on. “I was just willing to leave Jack’s so we could talk without everyone watching. I haven’t really talked to a single guy in a year.”

  “Close your eyes,” he said. “What does that mean, ‘really talked to a single guy’?”

  “Obviously I ran into them from time to time. Bag boys, mechanics, cable repairmen, cousins to the bride or groom... But after Glen, I had sworn off dating or even getting to know single men. Just not interested in ever putting myself in that position again. You know?”

  “I know,” he said a bit breathlessly. He stopped trudging up the hill to catch his breath. Then he said, “You lucked out with me—there’s no better way to see a person’s true colors than when everything goes to hell. Wrecked car, dead deer, spiked heels—it qualifies.” He hoisted her up a bit and walked on.

  “I’d like to ask you something personal, if you’re up for it,” she said.

  He stopped walking and slid her off his back. He turned toward her and he was smiling. “Sunny, I can’t talk and carry you—this top-of-the-line camera is heavy. Here’s what you can do—tell me stories. Any stories you want—chick stories about shopping and buying six-hundred-dollar boots, or photographer stories, or scary stories. And when we get to the cabin, you can ask me anything you want.”

  “I’m too heavy,” she said for the umpteenth time.

  “I’m doing fine, but I can’t carry on much of a conversation. Why don’t you entertain us by talking, I’ll walk and listen.” And he presented his back again so she could climb on.

  She decided to tell him all about her family; how her mother, two aunts and Uncle Nate had grown up in these mountains; and how later, when Grandpa had retired and left the veterinary practice to Uncle Nate, they all went back for visits. Grandma and Grandpa lived in Arizona as did Patricia and her two sons. Auntie Chris lived in Nevada with their two sons and one daughter and Sunny, an only child, lived in Southern California.

  “Am I heavier when I talk?” she asked him.

  “No,” he said, stopping for a moment. “You make the walk shorter.”

  So she kept going. She talked about the family gatherings at the Jensen stables, about how she grew up on a horse like her mom and aunts had. But while her only female cousin and best friend since birth, Mary, had ridden competitively, Sunny was taking pictures. She spoke about fun times and pranks with her cousins.

  She told him how Nate and Annie had met over an abandoned litter of puppies and would be married in the spring. “I’ll be a bridesmaid. It will be my third time as a bridesmaid and a lot of my girlfriends are getting married. I’ve never before in my life known a single woman who was left at the altar. I keep wondering what I did wrong. I mean, Glen worked out like a madman and he wanted me to work out too, but you can’t imagine the exercise involved in carrying a twenty pound camera bag, running, stooping, crouching, lifting that heavy camera for literally hours. I just couldn’t get excited about lifting weights on top of that. He said I s
hould think about implants. I hate surgical procedures of any kind. Oh, sure, I’ve always wanted boobs, but not that bad. And yes, I’m short and my butt’s too big and my nose is pointy.... He used to say wide hips are good for sex and nothing else. That felt nice, hearing that,” she said facetiously. “I tried to take comfort in the sex part—maybe that meant I was all right in the sack, huh? And I’m bossy, I know I’m bossy sometimes. I liked to think I’m efficient and capable, but Glen thought it was controlling and he said it pissed him off to be controlled by a woman. There you have it—the recipe for getting left at the altar.”

  Then she stopped talking for a while. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and his tread actually slowed. “I’d like you to know something. When we first met and I was so snotty and rude, I never used to be like that. Really. I always concentrated on being nice. That’s how I built my business—I was nice, on time, and worked hard—that’s what I attribute most of my success to. Seriously. That whole thing with Glen.... Well, it changed me. I apologize.”

  “No apology necessary,” he said breathlessly. “I understand.”

  Then she was embarrassed by all her talking, talking about boobs and hips and sex to a total stranger. Blessedly, he didn’t make any further comment. It wasn’t long before she could see a structure and some lights up ahead. He trudged on, breathing hard, and finally put her down on the porch that spanned the front of a small cabin.

  She looked up at him. “It’s amazing that you would do that. I would have left me in the car.”

  He gave her a little smile. “Well, you wanted to see the cabin. And now you will. We’ll call Jack’s, let everyone know what happened, that we’re all right, and I’ll light the fire, so we can warm up. Then I have a few things to tell you.”

  Six

  Drew immediately started stacking wood in the fireplace on top of some very big pinecones he used as starters.

  Sunny looked around—showplace, all right. She appreciated the plush leather furniture, beautiful patterned area rug, spacious stone hearth, stained shutters, large kitchen. There were two doors off the great room—bedrooms, she assumed. It wasn’t messy, though books and papers were stacked on the ottoman and beside the long, leather sofa, and a laptop sat open on the same ottoman. There was a throw that looked like it might be cashmere that was tossed in a heap at the foot of the sofa.

  “Should I go ahead and call Jack’s?” she asked him.

  He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled. “No hurry. No way I’m getting a tow truck tonight, on New Year’s Eve. In fact, I wouldn’t count on New Year’s Day either—I’m probably going to have to get my brother-in-law to drive up here in his truck to get me and tow Erin’s car home. We’re not late yet, so no one’s worried.” He lit a match to the starter cones and stood up as the fire took light. He brushed the dirt off his hands. “I hate to think about you being rescued too soon. I think we still have some things to talk about.”

  “Like?”

  He stepped toward her. There was a softness in his eyes, a sweet smile on his lips. “You wanted to ask me something personal. And I have to tell you something.” His hands were on her upper arms and he leaned down to put a light kiss on her forehead. “You’re not too short. You’re a good height.” He touched her nose with a finger, then he had to brush a little soot off of it. “Your nose looks perfect to me—it’s a very nice nose. And your chest is beautiful. Inviting, if you can handle hearing that from a man who is not your fiancé. I was never attracted to big boobs. I like to look at well-proportioned women. More than that, women in their real, natural bodies—implants might stay standing, but they’re not pretty to me.” His hands went to her hips. “And these?” he asked, squeezing. “Delicious. And your butt? One of the best on record. On top of all that I think you have the greatest laugh I’ve heard in a long time and your smile is infectious—I bet you can coax excellent smiles out of photo subjects with it. When you smile at me? I feel like I’m somebody, that’s what. And the fact that you were a little ornery? I’m okay with that—you know why? Because when someone does something that bad to you, they shouldn’t just get away with it. It hurts and turns you a little mean because it’s just plain unfathomable that a guy, even a stupid guy, can be that cruel. I’m really sorry that happened, Sunny. And I hope you manage to get past it.”

  She was a little stunned for a moment. No one had ever talked to her like that, not that she’d given anyone a chance with the way she pushed people away. But he was so sexy and sweet it was killing her. “Just out of curiosity, what would you have done?”

  “If I was left in my Vera Wang?” he asked, wide-eyed.

  She laughed in spite of herself. “No, if you realized you didn’t want to get married to the woman you were getting married to!”

  “First of all, it would never have gotten that far if I wasn’t sure. Invitations would never be mailed. Getting married isn’t just some romantic thing—it’s a lot of things, and one is a serious partnership. You have to be in the same canoe on at least most issues, but it’s okay to be different, I think. Like my sisters and their guys? I would never have coupled them up, they’re so different from their guys. But they’re perfect for each other because they have mutual respect and a willingness to negotiate. They keep each other in balance. Plus, they love each other. Jesus, you wouldn’t believe it, how much they’re in love. It’s almost embarrassing. But when they talk about being married, it’s more about how they want their lives to go, how they want their partnership to feel.”

  “And you were that way with...Penny?” she asked.

  “I thought I was,” he said. “Thought she was, too.”

  “What if you’re wrong next time, too?” Sunny asked.

  “Is that what you’re afraid of, honey?” he asked her gently.

  “Of course! Aren’t you?”

  He stared at her for a second, then walked into the kitchen without answering. “Let’s hope good old Erin stocked something decent for a cold winter night, huh?” He began opening cupboards. He finally came out with a dark bottle of liquid. “Aha! Brandy! Bet you anything this isn’t Erin’s, but Aiden’s. But it’s not terrible brandy—at least it’s Christian Brothers.” He lifted the bottle toward her.

  “Sure, what the hell,” she said, going over to the sofa to sit. She raised the legs of her jeans, unzipped her boots and pulled them off. She lifted one and looked at it. Now why would she bring these to Uncle Nate’s stable? These were L.A. boots—black suede with pointy toes and spike heels. The boots she normally brought to the stable were low-heeled or cowboy, hard leather, well-worn. The kind that would’ve made it up that hill so she wouldn’t have to be carried.

  She threw the boot on the floor. Okay, she had wanted to be seen, if possible, and judge the look on the face of the seer. Her confidence was pretty rocky; she needed to feel attractive. She wanted to see a light in a male eye like the one she had originally seen in Glen’s—a light she would run like hell from, but still....

  Drew brought her a brandy in a cocktail glass, not a snifter. He sat down beside her. “Here’s to surviving a deer strike!” he said, raising his glass to her.

  She clinked. “Hear, hear.”

  They each had a little sip and he said, “Now—that personal question? Since I can breathe and talk again.”

  “It’s probably a dumb question. You’d never be able to answer it honestly and preserve your manhood.”

  “Try me. Maybe you’re right about me, maybe you’re not.”

  “Okay. Did you cry? When she left you?”

  He rolled his eyes upward to find an answer. He shook his head just a bit, frowning. “I don’t think so. Didn’t cry, didn’t beg.” He leveled his gaze at her. “Didn’t sleep either, and since I couldn’t sleep I worked even more hours. I kept trying to figure out where I’d gone wrong. For two years we seemed to be fine and then once t
he ring was on the finger, everything went to hell.”

  “So what did you do?” she wanted to know.

  “I did my chores,” he said. “All the things she wanted me to do that when I didn’t, drove her crazy. There were little rules. If you’re the last one out of the bed, make it. If you eat off a plate, rinse it and put it in the dishwasher. If something you take off is dirty it doesn’t go on the floor, but in the hamper. I thought if she came back, she’d see I was capable of doing the things that were important to her.”

  That almost broke her heart. “Drew...”

  “In medicine we have a saying, if you hear hoofbeats, don’t expect to see a zebra. I was thinking horses—it’s pretty common for surgeons to have relationship problems because of the pressure, the stress, the time they have to spend away from home. Horses. I brought her with me to my residency program, took her away from her mom, away from her job and girlfriends, and then I had even less time for her than I’d had as a med student. And we fought about it—about my hours, her loneliness. But when she left me, she didn’t go back home. It took me so long to figure that out. I thought it meant she was still considering us. She moved a few miles away. Not because I was still a consideration, but because there was a guy. I never suspected a guy. I didn’t even know about him for six months after we broke up. It was a zebra all along.”

  “Ow. That must have hurt you bad.”

  He leaned toward her. “My pride, Sunny. At the end of the day, I missed her, hated giving up my idea of how we’d spend the rest of our lives, but it was mostly my pride that was hurt. I’m real grateful to Penny—she walked away while all we had at stake was some cheap, hand-me-down furniture to divide between us. If we weren’t going to make it together, if she wasn’t happy with me, I’m glad she left me before we invested a lot more in each other. See,” he said, taking Sunny’s hand in his, “I think I put Penny in charge and I went along, and that wasn’t fair. When a man cares about a woman, he owes it to her to romance her, pursue her, convince her. I learned something there—you don’t just move along toward something as serious as marriage unless just about every emotion you have has been engaged. Like I said, we grew on each other. Lots of times I asked myself why I thought that was enough.”