Let It Snow

by Sherry Lewis

  That realization left him uncomfortable. Pushing aside the thought, he told himself that if she hadn’t been sitting in a dimly lit room silhouetted against the fire’s glow, he’d never have had such an idea. He considered turning on another lamp, then decided against it. He was an adult, for hell’s sake. He could control the way his mind worked long enough to have a conversation with a neighbor.

  She accepted a glass and met his gaze steadily. Again, something disturbing danced across her expression. “Thank you.”

  He gulped a mouthful of wine from his own glass and sat on a chair across the room from her. The wine warmed him from the inside, something the coffee hadn’t been able to do. “So, what’s on your mind?”

  That earned a weak smile. She sighed again and studied the wine in her glass for a few. seconds. “I had an argument with my father tonight. I needed to get out of the house, but I was too upset to drive anywhere.”

  Rick winced inwardly and reminded himself she didn’t know what a nerve that comment touched. “It’s dangerous to drive anywhere when the roads are icy, especially when you’re upset.”

  He’d tried to sound normal, but she must have heard the strain in his voice. She lowered her glass to one knee and studied him for so long, his heart began to thud in his chest. A log on the fire popped and sizzled. A branch from a tree outside brushed against the side of the cabin.

  “Yes,” she said at last. “It is.”

  A nervous laugh escaped him. He kneaded his forehead with one hand and averted his gaze. “I’m a little touchy on that subject. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  She studied the fire while another long silence fell into the space between them. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “You had an argument with your father...”

  “Yes.” She inhaled deeply and went on. “It’s strange. The evening started out fine. Cameron was even in a good mood. Before I knew what was happening, Cameron was refusing to go back to California with me, and my dad was telling me that I need to reconcile with Gil.”

  Rick shifted position in his chair and propped both elbows on his knees. “Do you think Gil’s been talking to your dad?”

  She darted a glance at him. “About us getting back together? Maybe. Probably. He suggested it to me the night we got here.” She stood quickly, paced to the fireplace and sat on the hearth.

  “When you were here the other day, you said you didn’t want to get back together with him,” Rick said. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “I don’t know. Not really, but maybe I’m being selfish. Maybe Dad’s right and I’m letting stubborn pride get in my way. I know I’m not putting Cameron’s needs first.” She sent him another uneasy glance. “Anyway, I promised Cameron I’d think about it.” She broke off and looked away again.

  Rick could understand her confusion. She’d made a promise she didn’t know if she could keep—just as Jocelyn had when she agreed to move to Gunnison with him. But as he watched Marti and realized how deeply the promise affected her, he wondered whether Jocelyn had agonized over hers. Had she feared what it would do to their relationship if she told him, as Marti was doing?

  Marti stood again and started to turn away from the fireplace, but the framed picture of Jocelyn he hadn’t been able to put away caught her eye. Rick readied himself for the inevitable questions. He’d certainly been asked them often enough in the past two years.

  But she didn’t ask anything. She said only, “Your wife was very beautiful.”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “Yes, she was.”

  Marti sipped her wine and glanced around the room. “This is such a lovely cabin, she must have loved it here.”

  Rick lowered his glass to the table beside him. “Actually, she wanted to move back to Denver.” His willingness to discuss Jocelyn aloud surprised him, but not nearly so much as the admission. He’d never told anyone that, not even Jocelyn’s family.

  “Really?” Marti’s eyes widened. “So you were planning to leave here at the time your wife died?”

  This time, Rick braced himself with wine before he answered. “No. I told her I didn’t want to leave. She...she told me that she’d go back without me, but she wouldn’t stay here any longer. I got angry and said things I never should have said.” The memory left him cold in spite of the wine. “Never.”

  Marti smiled. “So, you’re in the same boat I am. You blame yourself.”

  Rick stared at her. How could she compare the two situations? “She left here angry with me. Before she reached the valley, she went off the road—”

  Marti took a couple of hesitant steps toward him and touched his shoulder gently. “You can’t blame yourself for her death. Ultimately, it was her decision to get into the car and drive when she was angry.”

  He knew he should pull away, but her hand seared his skin even through the thick fabric of his shirt. Her words soothed something inside him, even though he couldn’t let himself believe them. He’d lived with the responsibility for that horrible night for two years, and he’d live with it the rest of his life. But just now, here in this warm cabin with the fire blazing and the wine affecting his reason, they were exactly what he needed to hear.

  As if his hand belonged to someone else, Rick lifted it and placed it on top of hers. The world seemed to shift beneath him, and the sudden, urgent need for her woman’s touch consumed him.

  She didn’t draw her hand away. Instead, she looked deep into his eyes. He saw a need that mirrored his own. Without allowing himself time to think, he pulled her closer. She didn’t fight him, but leaned toward him until their faces were close. Too close.

  He told himself to stop, but he couldn’t. Need raged within him. Leaning up, he touched his lips gently to hers. Her mouth felt soft beneath his. So soft. So warm. So giving.

  Groaning deep in his throat, he wrapped his free arm around her waist and drew her against him. She hesitated for less than the space of a breath, then lowered herself onto his knee and melted into him. He could taste the wine on her lips and smell the wind in her hair.

  She touched the back of his neck with one warm, soft hand, and his need doubled. He deepened the kiss, drawing strength from her just as she drew from him. But in the next instant, when she parted her lips slightly, reason returned and he pulled away. What was he doing? What in the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t do this—not to her, not to himself, not to Jocelyn’s memory.

  Marti’s eyes opened slowly, and he watched the yearning die and realization dawn as it had for him. She stood quickly, brushing her pant legs with her hands.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, but the apology sounded weak.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “I don’t know what came over me,” he said. But it wasn’t true. He did know. He’d responded to the firelight and the wine, to his frustration over Lynette’s impending visit, but mostly to Marti’s openness and candor.

  Cursing himself silently, he tried to see into her eyes again.

  But she worked hard to avoid his gaze. “I’d better go.” Without giving him a chance to stop her, she grabbed her coat, opened the door and stepped onto the porch. Words rose to Rick’s lips, but they died there. He had no right to say anything. Without looking back at him, she shut the door between them.

  She’d come looking for a friend, but Rick had let his own needs come first, just as he always did. Everything inside screamed for him to stop her. To explain. To beg for her forgiveness. But he didn’t. He let her walk away, just as he had with Jocelyn. And the helplessness he felt now almost matched what he’d felt that night.

  CHAPTER SIX

  RICK WIPED sweat from his forehead, lowered his pipe wrench to the floor in front of the sink and glanced up at the loft overhead. “I’m finished down here. How are you coming with that window?”

  “Almost done.” Cameron crawled to the loft railing and peered over at him. “Just give me a couple more minutes.”

  Rick tried,
as he’d been doing for the past four days, not to notice how much the kid looked like Marti, but whenever he looked at Cameron the resemblance jolted him. He hadn’t seen Marti since he’d let her walk away from him, but he hadn’t been able to wipe the memory of that kiss from his mind.

  He forced a smile at Cameron and turned away. “Good. Three cabins down, five more to go. You know, kid, with your help, I’m beginning to think I might make it.” He leaned back on his haunches and started putting the tools back into his toolbox.

  “You’ll make it,” Cameron said, but he grunted with effort, and a second later, something banged to the floor overhead.

  “Do you need some help up there?”

  “Nope. I got it.” As if to prove it, he reappeared in front of the railing, this time on his feet. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and started down the ladder. At the bottom, he checked his watch and slanted a glance at Rick. “So, are we through for the day, or what?”

  Rick cocked an eyebrow at him. “It’s only two o’clock.”

  “I know, but my dad’ll be at Grandpa’s pretty soon.”

  “Is he coming to pick you up for the weekend?”

  “No.” Cameron handed him a screwdriver and socket wrench. “He’s working with my grandpa on the weekends.”

  “You guys are fixing up things over there, too?”

  Cameron’s gaze shifted slightly. “Yeah. Sort of.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned one shoulder against the wall. “Him and my mom are probably going to get back together again, so he’s helping Grandpa out.”

  “Really?” Rick forced away a shaft of disappointment and concentrated on putting the tools away.

  “Yeah.” Cameron shrugged casually. “They never shoulda gotten divorced in the first place, and I think Mom’s finally starting to realize it. He’s been having dinner with us almost every night, and they’re getting along great.”

  Rick told himself the concern that streaked through him was for Marti’s sake, not his own and that only discomfort over discussing Marti behind her back caused his sudden uneasiness.

  Whatever the reason, he didn’t want to talk about Marti anymore. He closed the toolbox and stood. “All right, then. We’ll call it a day.”

  Unfortunately, Cameron did want to talk about her. “Dad says that if things keep going this well, he’s gonna buy her a diamond for Christmas.”

  Earrings? Necklace? No, Rick couldn’t misunderstand that, even if he’d wanted to. Gil planned to give Marti an engagement ring. He slanted a glance at Cameron. “Does your mom know?”

  “Nope. Dad’s gonna surprise her.”

  Some surprise. He wondered how Marti would handle that. Would she accept Gil’s proposal to please Cameron? Or had she decided that’s what she wanted, as well?

  Cameron flashed him a hint of a smile so like Marti’s that Rick’s stomach knotted. “Cool, huh?”

  “Cool.”

  Cameron must not have heard the sarcasm in Rick’s voice. He pulled his hands from his pockets and looked as if he might say something more. But before he could speak again, a car horn blared in the stillness.

  Irrational hope that Marti had come to pick up Cameron filled Rick. He glanced out the window, but he couldn’t see the driveway from this vantage point. He picked up the toolbox and started toward the door.

  Cameron followed, whistling softly. The boy’s contentment grated on Rick’s nerves. He tugged open the front door and stepped onto the broad covered porch, squinting when the sun’s glare on the snow hit his eyes.

  “Rick?” A woman’s voice. For half a second, he let himself believe it was Marti. But when she called his name again, hope died. Lynette. A full day early.

  She bounded into view a second later, followed by her husband, Tom. With her dark hair and eyes, her elfin face, and tiny figure, she looked far too much like Jocelyn. She pulled him into a quick embrace and released him. “This place is great. Now I see why you’ve kept it all these years.”

  He forced a smile. “I’m glad you like it.

  “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Lynette brushed past Cameron, climbed onto the porch of the cabin they’d just finished and peered in through one of the windows. “Oh, I like this, Tom. I really do. It’s so quaint.”

  Obviously embarrassed, Tom shook Rick’s hand. “Hope we’re not intruding.”

  “No,” Rick lied. “Of course not.”

  Lynette tried the cabin door, squealed with delight when it opened and disappeared inside.

  Watching her, Tom stuffed his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants. “Look, Rick, I know what a spot this puts you in. Believe me, I tried to talk her out of it, but she’s convinced you need company for the holidays. She really means well.”

  Rick waved away his explanation. “The cabins aren’t in great shape,” he warned. “Like I told Lynette, I’m here just to fix them up. I wasn’t even planning to celebrate Christmas.”

  “This one looks great,” Lynette said. Her voice so close to his ear startled him. He hadn’t heard her come back outside.

  Tom shrugged as if the situation was beyond his control. Cameron stared from one to the other, and Rick thanked him silently for not mentioning the other cabins they’d finished.

  Before he could say anything else, he heard another shout from somewhere near the house.

  “Uncle Rick!” His nieces, Ashley and Kendra, raced into view a second later.

  Kendra threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her fourteen-year-old cheeks glowed pink with excitement. “This is the greatest place in the world.”

  Ashley followed more slowly. She’d always been more sedate than her younger sister, but her eyes glittered with an enthusiasm Rick hadn’t seen in her before and her smile wiped away the remainder of his objections.

  Lynette tugged Kendra toward the cabin. “Come and look inside. This is perfect for us. It’s rustic and so quaint. And you know what would be great? A sleigh ride. Isn’t this the perfect place for one?”

  Still watching in confused silence, Cameron stepped out of their way. Lynette didn’t spare him a second glance, but Kendra did. She smiled shyly as they passed, and two bright red patches flamed to life on the boy’s cheeks.

  Well, well, well, Rick thought. Look at that. The kid obviously recognized Kendra’s charms. And why not? She was a beautiful girl.

  Holding back a grin, he introduced Cameron to the girls, then added, “You’ll be neighbors for the holidays. He’s staying with his grandpa on the property across the river. And he’s been helping me fix up the cabins.”

  Lynette acknowledged the introduction and gave Cameron a slow once-over. Her eyes hardened a bit more with every feature she looked in—his hair, the smudges of dirt on his face, his clothes—but she kept a strained smile on her lips. “Well, now you don’t have to ruin your Christmas,” she said to Cameron. “My husband can help Rick from now on.”

  The splotches on Cameron’s cheeks darkened with embarrassment, and resentment rose like bile in Rick’s throat. “Cameron and I are a team,” he said, and took a step closer to the kid. “Of course, if Tom wants to help, he’s welcome to join us.”

  Tom didn’t look thrilled by the suggestion, but he didn’t argue. Lynette’s eyes narrowed. Kendra’s smile widened. Ashley ducked her head.

  Rick met the challenge in Lynette’s gaze without faltering. She didn’t like being contradicted, but Rick didn’t care. He might let her barge in without an invitation. He’d even let her ruin his non-Christmas holiday. But he wouldn’t let her get away with insulting Cameron.

  The force of his anger surprised him. Sure, he knew he liked the kid, but he hadn’t realized until this moment just how much he cared about him. The realization left him slightly uncomfortable. Somehow, without him even knowing it, Marti and her son had managed to make a chink in the walls he’d constructed around his heart.

  RICK PULLED two bottles of beer from the refrigerator in the main house, handed one to Tom and opened the othe
r for himself. Lynette and the girls were making beds and setting up house in the guest cabin. Rick took a long drink and rubbed his neck with his free hand.

  Sinking into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, Tom let out a heavy groan. “Cameron and I could kill ourselves helping you cut the wood. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe you should hire someone to cut the rest of the firewood we’re going to need. It might be worth the few extra dollars.”

  Rick laughed and sat on the chair across from him. “It’s worth the extra money as long is it’s coming from my pocket, you mean.”

  Tom grinned. “Of course.”

  “I’ll drive into town in the morning and rent a log-splitter,” Rick promised. “That should make the rest of the job go a little faster.”

  Tom groaned again and palmed his graying hair.

  “You don’t have to help,” Rick reminded him. “You’re a guest.”

  To Rick’s surprise, Tom laughed. “I’m not going to sit around on my butt while you do all the work.”

  Rick smiled. He’d always liked Tom, and one of his favorite things about the man was his ability to look honestly at himself. He took another drink and groaned with pleasure as the cold liquid traced a path down his throat.

  Tom leaned both elbows on the table and wrapped his hands around his bottle. “This is a great place. Are you sorry you left?”

  Rick looked around the small kitchen and shrugged. He didn’t want to acknowledge the growing regret—even to himself. “Not really.”

  “You know, you could have made a go of this place. You’re in a great location.”

  “I know.” He leaned back in his chair. “But there are a lot of memories here.”

  Tom followed his gaze around the room as if Rick’s memories might be visible. “It’s been hard coming back, hasn’t it?”

  “A little.” It was an understatement, and Rick suspected Tom recognized it, but he didn’t say so.

  “It’s going to be hard on Lynette, too.”