"It's almost like listening to a conversation between two fluent French speakers, isn't it?” She strained to make out the gist of it.
He looked up at her from the chair, one brow cocked. “I really wouldn't know. We don't speak a lot of French in these parts."
In these parts? Was this Deliverance or something? Though she suddenly couldn't recall where Deliverance was filmed, or exactly what it was about, the crazy theme song started playing in her head.
David snapped off the weather radio when the hand-crank powered signal began to wane. “Answer your question?"
"Um. Snow?"
"Snow should end by noon, then continued cold. It's not like we're going to have a big thaw anytime soon. We. Are. Stuck."
"Okay, fine. You don't have to talk down to me. I just couldn't understand those mechanical voices.” She huffed her way across the tiny room and threw herself down onto the couch. She crossed her arms, even as she realized how childish she was being.
"This weather is freakish for the area, so there's not a lot of highway department equipment available to deal with it. Somehow we're gonna have to make the best of it. We're in this together, missy."
"Please have the couth not to call me ‘missy'. I'm a grown woman, and my name is Rebecca. Use it."
He looked her up and down slowly, as if she weren't wearing the mismatched clothes, or even the down comforter. The intensity of his inspection caused her to feel warm, too warm, all over.
"Tiny as you are, you still don't have to point out the ‘grown woman’ part. I may be a mountain hick, but I'm not blind.” He took a deep breath. “We're in this together, Rebecca, and you need to make the best of it. I'm trying to, but your attitude is ... Anyone ever tell you to lighten up?” He stalked away to the bedroom and slammed the door.
Pretty much everyone in Rebecca's life had told her at one point or another that she needed to lighten up. Some people had been less tactful about it, used ugly words to say the same thing. She didn't mean to be overly critical or controlling. It just came naturally. Worked great for the day job, but for relationships, not so much. Stephen had understood, gently teased her about it, and loved her in spite of it. Gerald hadn't had enough invested to care one way or another. Blaine was probably thrilled to be on the other side of the Atlantic, away from his overpowering mother. Thinking of this made Rebecca more tired and sad than she'd been since leaving the City. What was wrong with her these days? What a mess her life was! She felt a million years old.
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Chapter Four
David stood at the small window of the bedroom, staring out but not focusing. Why had this exasperating woman landed on his doorstep? She'd completely ruined his annual Christmas Eve vigil, and now he was responsible for her welfare.
Why was he always taking care of people? He'd left his day job behind, and was supposed to have some time up here to be a little selfish. David always did his best to solve people's problems, even when they probably didn't deserve it, but it took a toll. He'd graduated law school at the top of his class, got lots of attention as a ruthless and successful attorney. That resulted in an easy win as a circuit court judge in Knoxville. It was an exhausting job, at least the way he did it. So right now he was worn out, wishing for peace and quiet instead of the harridan in the next room. This was his Christmas vacation, after all. He shouldn't have to be saddled with yet another lost soul. Why did he have to be the good guy, even when he didn't want to be?
He reached down toward the bedside chest and ran a forefinger along the cold, smooth edge of the white pillar candle he'd lit last night, but which had blown out in the gust of wind that arrived with Rebecca. The vigil was to have lasted from six o'clock Christmas Eve night to six o'clock on Christmas morning, just as usual. Just as he'd done it for years.
Holly.
She'd loved Christmas, loved having a name associated with her favorite time of year. Every Christmas they'd had together, even when money was tight, she'd found ways to make the holiday special and memorable. One year when there wasn't much cash, she learned to make his favorite dessert, cherry pie with delicate flaky crust, exactly like his mother's. She'd spent untold hours at his parents’ house learning the skill. Each year of their marriage they went shopping for a new tree ornament, one that would represent something special they'd shared during the year. David never really cared what ornament they bought. He just liked watching Holly's face as she shopped. She absolutely lit up when she was happy or excited. He could still picture the glow she had at Christmas, when everything made her that way.
Holly had been a detail person, but with her it wasn't obnoxious. With her it had been about making things work right, so the people she cared about knew they were special. David's family had loved Holly like one of their own. The McClain family was a tight clan, with a strong Scottish ancestry of lairds and warriors. Even on this side of the ocean, and through the generations, some things stayed the same. The importance of family and home. The day David married Holly, she became a McClain. The day she died, the whole family wept. They continued to weep five years later, but David knew that now the tears were for him, the man who still mourned a lost love. Holly, the woman who had lit up the McClain Christmas gatherings with her infectious enthusiasm, had died in a head-on collision with a drunk driver on Christmas Eve.
The accident had occurred in front of this little cabin, just after Holly pulled into the road to return to David's parents’ house where she'd left David. She had said she'd be back in a little while after putting final touches on his Christmas gift. She had bought the cabin for him—for them—as a weekend retreat. With some help from David's siblings and parents, Holly had managed the purchase and clean-up of the old structure without David's knowledge. She had hurried to the cabin on Christmas Eve to put up and decorate a simple little cedar tree cut from the fence row.
When the state policeman had located David at his parents’ home and given him the news about Holly's death, he'd been in shock. After a while, though, his brother Joe insisted he go see the cabin Holly had intended to surprise him with. They entered the cold building in mid-January, and David's eye immediately went to the Christmas card on the simple coffee table. Inside, in Holly's rounded handwriting it said:
David, I love you with all my heart, and always will. I hope this little cabin is a place that will give you some solace. A retreat. You work so hard, sometimes it scares me. The first time I stepped into the cabin, I knew it could be special. I knew, somehow, that you could find what you need here. I dearly hope you will give it a chance. Yours always, Holly.
It had taken some counseling for David to stop blaming himself for Holly's death. And his annual vigil couldn't bring her back. He'd never expected that. The vigil had always been about setting time aside to remember, and giving the cabin a chance to help him heal, as Holly had somehow believed it should hold importance for him.
His job in the city kept him busy, and even when he wasn't at work, he thought about work. He couldn't turn off his mind to the hurt, suffering, and unfairness he saw daily. In a way, he was glad the past few years had been so busy, partly so he wouldn't have to think about the pain in his own life.
But each Christmas Eve he drove to the little weekend cabin on the mountain outside his hometown of Legend, Tennessee, and spent twelve hours straight just remembering Holly. Missing her. Loving her. And trying to discover what it was he was supposed to find here.
Each year a few weeks ahead of time, he ordered a special white pillar candle guaranteed to burn the whole twelve hours. When the twelve hours was done, it would be just a used-up lump, ready for the trash, after having served its purpose. That was the way he felt too, by six o'clock in the morning each Christmas Day—used up. He thought that, like the candle, he'd also pretty much served his purpose, taking care of other people for basically three hundred and sixty-four days in a row.
Each Christmas morning when his vigil ended, and the candle was out, David would shower and h
ead toward Legend for a big family Christmas with his mom and dad, sisters Maureen and Janelle, brother Joe, and his wife and kids. Later in the day, the rest of the family would begin to arrive. The place would be packed with aunts and uncles and cousins of all ages. David couldn't remember just what the current McClain population was in the county. His cousin Mike and Betsy's baby was one of the youngest. That little blonde bombshell, LizBeth Ann, was nearly two years old and a complete heartbreaker. Maybe another one of the cousins was pregnant or had a younger kid. David lost track because he spent most of his time away from family, in the city. It was important to him, though, to know the family was there for him. And if any of them needed David, or Uncle David, or cousin David or brother David, they knew he was just a phone call away. All the McClains were like that. Absolutely dedicated to one another. That was how it should be.
The woman out there. Did she have family? Was someone worrying about why she wasn't where she was supposed to be? She said she was on the way to visit a friend. Was the friend worrying and wondering?
Was the friend a woman or a man?
Where had that thought come from? David didn't care if Rebecca was on her way to meet a man. He didn't care if she was on her way to meet a whole houseful of men. He just wanted her gone.
He shook his head slowly, groaning a little. No. He didn't really want her gone. For the first time in what seemed like eternity, he was attracted to a woman. When Holly's flame had been blown out on the coffee table last night, David wasn't angry as he expected to be. As he would have been a couple of years ago, or even last year. Instead, he was a little relieved, as if he'd finally finished his grieving. It was time to move on. Now he wondered how to take the first step toward the very prickly, but also very interesting, Rebecca Mayfield. He thought maybe she was here for him. He ran his finger around the edge of the candle again. What was it Holly had said?
The first time I stepped into the cabin, I knew it could be special. I knew, somehow, that you could find what you need here. I dearly hope you will give it a chance.
So, was it possible that Rebecca's car going off the road in front of this cabin was...
"It stopped!"
Her voice was surprisingly loud considering the tiny woman was in the next room and the door between them was closed. She had some lung power. What stopped?
David went into the living room and saw the jubilation on her face. She was much better looking when she was happy. Quite lovely in fact.
Hm.
"It stopped!” She actually clapped her small hands together. He expected to see her jump for joy, and she suddenly looked energetic enough to do it. “No more snow!"
He walked to the window to verify. He had just been standing at a window, but was so lost in thought he'd paid no attention. Sure enough, the snow had stopped, and the sun was beginning to shine. The clouds moved slowly eastward.
"Now if we just had a phone, we could call the highway department or the police or something."
"I guess. But they'll be covered up for a while, trying to clear out the main roads first. Like I told you..."
"I know. Nobody lives out this far."
One of her delicate eyebrows raised when she said it, and she began to pace. This didn't look good. Was she going to pace the entire time till someone came to rescue her? It made him think of a lawyer pacing the courtroom.
"So. David. Do you have a phone here? A cell?"
Yeah, here came the questioning. She was definitely putting him in mind of a lawyer. Not good. He wasn't in the mood. Not when he was trying to have a holiday. And definitely not when he was trying to recall how to be charming.
"You do, don't you?” She spun around, confronted him.
He walked leisurely to the armchair and sank into its depths. “Yeah, I have a cell. Service here is haphazard though. Somebody you need to call?"
"I'd like to. She isn't really expecting me, but if there's a chance I'm not horribly far from where she lives, I should at least give it a try. Figure out which direction to go once the roads are cleared."
She. The friend was a she.
"So why didn't you ask before?"
"What would have been the point?” She paced back to the window, looked hard at the snow as if willing it to melt.
"To keep your friend from worrying, I guess."
"She won't be worrying. I didn't really tell her I was coming for sure. Still, I'd like to call now.” She paced back to him, held her hand out. “Phone?"
Lord, the woman was irritating. How had he thought her attractive for even a moment? She was entirely too small, for one thing. You could put a picture of her in the dictionary next to the word “petite.” Glossy head of short dark hair that was straight as a stick but turned under at the ends, big emerald-green eyes, lips ... oh yeah, some gorgeous full lips. And a nice little body he'd seen in its entirety for a few seconds last night before wrapping her in the comforter.
Yeah, she definitely looked good. But her personality would take some getting used to. She was a spitfire for sure. Not like Holly, who'd always focused on everyone else's best interest. Rebecca seemed like someone who was used to looking out for Number One. He dealt with her type all the time in his work. Irritating, greedy, grasping ... Rebecca would have to be in the category of an acquired taste. Hm. The word “taste” brought some interesting thoughts to mind.
And she was a nervous little thing. “Highly strung” might be the politically correct term. She stood tapping her tiny foot in his big cotton sock on the wide-board pine floor. Her voice ... it had a real northeastern bite. Reminded him of someone. Her knuckles were white where she held onto the window frame. He figured she was trying to keep herself from pacing. Then she started twisting the back of her diamond stud earring. Yeah, nervous. But about what?
"Just a minute.” David got up from his chair and slowly walked to the bedroom. Might as well let her use the cell. No reason not to. Unless he wanted to keep her here a while longer, cut off from the rest of the world so he could get to know her a little bit. Try to resurrect whatever he had left of the McClain charm. When he finally re-entered the room and handed the phone to her, it was still powering up. The friendly AT&T logo flashed across the tiny monitor. Then in the welcome screen flashed “David McClain."
"McClain? That's your name?"
"Yeah. How—oh yeah, the phone. So?"
"You're not related to Martin McClain, are you?"
"He's a cousin."
"Are we near his house?"
"Hey, hold on here. How do you know Martin?"
"Midnight's the friend I was on the way to visit."
David smacked his forehead. “Midnight! That's who you remind me of. Your big city attitude, the designer shoes and clothes that don't fit in around here. Your dialect.” Her unmistakable class, even in his cast-off clothes. But he'd keep that to himself.
"Their place isn't too far. A few miles closer to town. Takes just a few minutes on dry roads. Today, with snow shoes, maybe a couple of hours."
"Do you have some?"
"Some what?"
"Snow shoes. Do you have some?"
He laughed nervously. Was she actually nuts?
"Well? Do you?"
"Let me find the number here.” Ignoring her crazy insistence, he scrolled down the list of McClains in his cell directory. A minute later, he'd made the call and handed the phone to Rebecca again, hoping she'd forget about snow shoes. She must be desperate to get away from him.
"Hi! No, it's not David. I'm using David's phone. Martin? Hi. This is Rebecca Mayfield ... Yes, that Rebecca Mayfield ... Well, totally by chance, actually. He just happened to be in a cabin near the pile of snow I drove my rental car into last night ... Well, sort of a rescue I guess ... Yes, I'm fine. The electricity is out ... Um. I guess you could call it ‘cozy.’ Martin, is Midnight close by? Yes, I'd like to if you don't mind ... Thanks."
David sat back down in the chair and watched her tap her sock-clad foot while she waited for Midnight to pick up.
"Hey there yourself! I'm fine! No, really, I am fine. It was just a tremendously long drive. I think it was supposed to be four or five hours in good weather, and then the snow started ... Yes, it was a little scary..."
David watched in amazement as the indomitable Rebecca Mayfield's delicate porcelain features drew up and prepared to cry.
"But I'm okay.” He could barely hear the words, and he was just a couple of feet away from her. Rebecca absently wiped away tears as she cleared her throat and tried to regain her voice.
He stood and went to her, put an arm around her narrow shoulders. It felt good to hold her even like that. He was shocked by the impact of it. Remembering his purpose, he gave her shoulders a slight squeeze.
"You are okay, Rebecca,” he whispered into her ear away from the phone. She nodded her head, sniffed slightly, and gave him a watery smile.
"Midnight, we're at David's cabin and the electricity is out because of a tree that fell and pulled down the line. I don ‘t know how long I'll—how long we'll be stuck here, so I wonder if you could do me a favor ... Yes. Okay, could you write this down?” She recited an email address. “Could you please email Blaine and let him know what's happened? I'm sure he's tried to call me to say Merry Christmas, but with the cell off, and my charger in the suitcase under the snow ... No, I have no idea what the number is. It's just stored in my dead cell phone ... So could you please email Blaine and let him know I'm fine? Thanks, Midnight ... Yes, please do call if he writes back. Thanks so much! ... What? Stuck with a what?"
David was still standing very near, though he'd taken his arm away after she collected herself. She slid a look at him while listening to Midnight for a moment. “No, I had no idea ... Yes, we've talked. Stop that! It's just a cabin with no electricity, it's not a ... Hey, I need to go, okay? Give me a break here ... Yes, I hope to see you soon too. Merry Christmas! Okay ... bye.” She snapped the phone closed and held it out to David, who smoothly skimmed it out of her palm without touching her.
Christmas Collision Page 3
