Season for Miracles

by Clare Revell

  ****

  As she left the receiving line, Stacey’s look of concern was all it took to convince Holly that she looked as bad as she felt. “Holly, you look dreadful.”

  Holly let out a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment before answering. “Good. That’s exactly the look I was going for.”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I, Stace.

  “You look sick. What’s wrong? Do you need to go home?”

  “No. This is your day, and I’m not going to ruin it. It’s just a slight headache. It won’t stop me being here for you. I’ll go and sit down, and then you and Phil can make your big entrance.” Holly managed a smile and headed inside, wanting nothing more than the day to be over with.

  To her dismay, her place at the top table was next to Kyle—more of Stacey’s match-making no doubt. She took her seat, hands cold and clammy. Her stomach turned so much she wasn’t sure she could eat anything. Passing on the prawn cocktail, she sipped ice cold water.

  Keeping a fixed smile on his face, Kyle turned to her. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I don’t like seafood,” she said, using the first true excuse that came into her mind. She couldn’t tell him the rest of the truth, which was that he’d reduced her to nothing more than a quivering wreck.

  Come on Holly. You are stronger than this. It's been five months, why can’t you deal with it?

  “I thought you were still mad at me.”

  “Why would I be mad at you?”

  “Getting you into trouble with Stacey’s mum.”

  “Oh, that.” She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Well, I’m sorry. I’ve spoken to her and explained, and I think she understands.”

  “Knowing her, she probably doesn’t, but like I said, it’s fine.” Holly covered her glass as the waiter came around with the wine. “Can I have juice, or some more ice water, please?”

  The waiter nodded and left.

  Kyle shot her a questioning glance. “Don’t you drink?”

  She shook her head. “I never have.” She wished there was someone on her other side so she could talk to them instead, but she was on the end of the table for ease of getting out to help Stacey should she need it. Talking to Kyle made her uncomfortable. He switched between inappropriate humour, upsetting her and apologizing so fast, she never knew from one minute to the next how he was going to act. That set all her defenses jangling.

  The main course came and Holly picked at it. Roast chicken was her all time favourite meal, but just the smell made her stomach churn. Taking a small bite, she gagged, her stomach rebelling. Covering her mouth with her hand, Holly ran from the room, afraid she was going to be sick. She leaned against the wall outside, gasping in the cold fresh air.

  “Holly, are you OK?”

  The male voice startled her, making her cry out, and her hand rose to defend herself before she could stop it.

  A gentle touch stayed her hand. “Hey, it’s OK. It’s Phil. I didn’t mean to scare you. Stacey sent me to check if you were OK. You ran out so fast she’s concerned, especially as you weren’t feeling well earlier.”

  Holly put her hand down as he released it, taking in long, deep breaths to calm her nerves. “I’m fine, just needed some air. Sorry, I didn’t intend to worry her. I’ll be right back.”

  “OK. If you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. Tell her she worries too much.”

  Phil smiled. “Yeah, she does.”

  He headed back inside. Holly leaned against the wall and took several more deep breaths before heading back inside. She sat down, relieved that Kyle said nothing.

  When it came to the speeches, she was surprised to find that Kyle was an eloquent speaker, with the right amount of jokes and anecdotes without being boring or outstaying his welcome. As master of ceremonies, he also kept things moving at a fair rate of knots. Unlike the previous six weddings she’d been to, where the speeches droned on and on ad infinitum.

  Stacey and Phil got up to start the dancing. Holly sat back in her chair as they glided across the floor, gazing into each other’s eyes. They looked so happy together. For a moment she wished it were her. Then she pushed aside the thought. She didn’t like Phil enough to marry him, even if he wasn’t now married to her best friend. Besides, Kyle’s reaction had proved men didn’t like women who had a “male job.” Especially one that revolved around cars and getting dirty all day long. She was better off as she was. Single and free.

  A touch to her hand jerked her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the very male hand that burned into her skin, then up into his eyes, snatching away her hand as he spoke. “May I have this dance, Holly?”

  What was it with him and this touchy-feely thing? “Sure.” Leaving her bag by the chair, Holly got up and refusing to take his arm, followed him onto the dance floor. He gripped her hand firmly, his other hand resting on the small of her back. She trembled in his arms, wanting to do nothing more than bolt, but that would cause a scene and only serve to make her look a total idiot.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m cold.”

  “Then I shall have to dance fast and warm you up.”

  Holly looked up into his eyes, seeing the smile in them as they started to move. Her heart pounded and her stomach churned. If she ever did get married, or wanted to do so, she would go for someone like Kyle. Tall, dark and handsome. And he knew it by the self confident way he carried himself.

  Part of her couldn’t believe she was actually dancing with a man, never mind letting him put his arms around her. Get a grip, Holly. He’s dancing with you because he has to, the same reason you are dancing with him. The fact you’re doing it at all is no small achievement. Lord, keep me safe here. Don’t let his hands wander or make any sudden movements.

  Kyle twirled her around and Holly tried not to wince as he stomped on her toes. He smiled an apology. “Sorry. Is your foot all right?”

  “I’ve got another one.” She gasped as he stood on that one, too. “Or at least I did.”

  Kyle smiled, apologizing again. “What do you do when you’re not fixing cars?”

  “I bake and sew.”

  “You sow? As in wheat and corn? Are you a farmer too?”

  “No. Sew as in clothes and cross stitch. I made Stacey’s dress.”

  Wonder shone in his eyes as he echoed her words. “You made Stacey’s dress?”

  Is he going to repeat everything I say? “I made this one, too.”

  His eyes raked over her figure as he spun her around. “Very clever, it’s gorgeous. I must say, you are a woman of many talents.”

  The music changed to a slow dance, and he pulled her closer. His male presence became overpowering, her skin flaming under his hands as they pressed against her. Glad the dim lighting hid her face, she hoped her pounding heart wasn’t too evident, although his was doing a pretty good job of competing. Her cheek lay against his chest, the height difference emphasized as he lowered his head. Her body fitted as if made for his, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing and trying not to panic.

  The music ended and Holly pulled away. “Thank you for the dance. I should circulate for a while, before I help Stacey change.”

  Kyle nodded. “OK.”

  Holly moved away, picking up her glass from the table as she crossed the room. She could still feel his hands on her back, and half turned, expecting to see him right behind her. He wasn’t. He was halfway across the room, chatting to one of the other guests.

  Pastor Jack waved and caught her attention. She smiled, making her way across the room to him.

  She passed Kyle, who barely gave her a second glance as he conversed with Derek, Phil’s grey haired watch commander. “...nothing will ever change the way I feel about Jayne...”

  Holly's mind spun at Kyle's words. Had Stacey been wrong? Was he involved with someone and if so, why hadn't the woman come? Why hadn’t anyone told her? If Derek knew, then it was a fair bet that Phil
and Stacey did, too. Holly’s breath caught in her throat, and a sense of loss replaced indignation. Kyle may score an eight-point-seven on the hunk rating, but she wasn’t interested anyway. So what difference did it make if he wasn’t free?

  She glanced at her watch. Another half an hour or so, then Stacey and Phil would leave and she could go home. Best of all, she’d never have to see Kyle again. She ignored the small insistent voice inside her, which chanted “methinks the lady doth protest too much.” For one thing, that was a misquote, and for another, Kyle was involved with someone. End of story.

  Crossing the room, Holly was caught by a group of ladies from church and dragged headlong into their discussion on flowers and what was and wasn’t appropriate at weddings and funerals. Not a moment too soon, Stacey came to find her. “Holly, can you help me change?”

  “Sure. Excuse me, ladies.” Holly stood, and waved a silent message to Pastor Jack, pointing to Stacey. He nodded his understanding, and so Holly followed her friend through the hotel lobby to the room where her change of clothes hung. Holly took off the veil and started to fold it. “You found a good man in Phil,” she said, wrapping the veil in tissue paper and laying it in the box. “He’ll take care of you.”

  Stacey nodded. “I just wish you had someone to take care of you.”

  “I’m fine as I am.”

  “You and Kyle make a good couple.”

  Holly snorted. “Oh, please. Like I told you yesterday, I don’t need a man, and him least of all.”

  Stacey put a hand over Holly’s arm as she stepped out of the dress. “Hols, you need to move on. I’m sure once you get to know Kyle, you’ll find you like him. Not all men are like that creep who hurt you.”

  Holly held her gaze for a moment. She thought about telling Stacey what she’d overheard Kyle say, but decided against it. She wasn’t interested in Kyle, so it didn’t really matter whether Stacey knew about this other woman. “Perhaps, but I’m happy as I am.” She folded the dress away and straightened up. “I’ll go tell Phil you’re ready to leave.” She smiled and headed back into the ballroom. Phil was holding an animated conversation with Kyle, and as she drew nearer, she heard her name mentioned. Curiosity got the better of her.

  “...Honestly, Phil, it’s no wonder she came without a partner. I’ve never met anyone as cold or jumpy. She’s a total ice block.”

  “You came partner-less too, Kyle.”

  “That’s different. I didn’t have a choice. I’m busy with work and building the business and so on. Besides, I haven’t wanted to date anyone after Jayne.”

  Phil put a hand on Kyle’s arm. “I know, mate. Maybe Holly didn’t have a choice, either. Don’t be so swift to judge a book by its cover. Holly has hidden depths. Give her a chance.”

  “I don’t know about hidden depths. I touch her and she freezes. I’ve done nothing but try to be nice to her. We joke about people suiting their names and she does to a tee. A pricklier person I’m never likely to meet.”

  Holly could almost see her mother standing there, hands on hips, telling her that nothing good ever came from eavesdropping. She turned away, not wanting to hear any more or for them to find she was listening. Mr. Jones’s loud bellowing voice, however, made sure everyone within ten feet knew she was there. “Hey, Holly, I just wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for Stacey today. I know she appreciates it.”

  “Thank you. It’s been a good day. I enjoyed doing it.” Well that was mainly true.

  Phil and Kyle both spun around at the same time, the latter with guilt written on his face. She glanced at Phil, keeping her face expressionless. “Stacey’s ready to leave. She’ll be out in a minute.”

  Phil smiled. “Thanks, Holly.”

  “You’re welcome.” She turned to go. A hand closed over her arm and she looked up to find Kyle holding her fast. “Let go of me,” she hissed, keeping her voice low.

  His gaze searched hers. “What is your problem?”

  “My problem?” She tugged her arm away and snapped, not bothering to hide her annoyance anymore. “Well, according to you, my problems are numerous and serious. I don’t appreciate being mauled or ogled or discussed behind my back.”

  “You heard all that?”

  “Yes, I did.” Holly let the anger flooding her flash in her eyes. “And let me tell you, for an ice block that doesn’t have a date, I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

  She spun around and stormed away as fast as her high heels would allow. Her head pounded and she felt sick. Everyone in the room, or at least those around them, had over-heard the conversation, and now she wanted nothing more than to go home and be alone. At least she had the forethought to park her car here first thing this morning so she wouldn’t have to call a cab.

  Cabs weren’t safe. Nowhere was safe.

  Hands caught hold of her arms and she cried out. Stacey’s concerned gaze held hers. “Holly?”

  “I’m OK,” Holly whispered, trying to reassure herself as much as Stacey. “I’m OK.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. You don’t need to worry about me.” Holly hugged her tightly. “Have a great two weeks. Merry Christmas, hon.”

  Stacey hugged her back. “You have a great Christmas, too.”

  Holly followed Stacey and Phil to the car, threw confetti and waved them off. Then she went back inside, grabbed her bag and slipped out before anyone noticed. She needed to get home and wash off Kyle’s lingering touch. More than anything, she needed to get the smell of the cologne out of her system. The attack that changed her life would be forever linked with the smell of that particular cologne.

  She sat in the car and locked the doors, shaking hard. Would the memories never go away? Would she forever be haunted by flashbacks of that one night five months ago? Glancing up she saw Kyle watching her. With trembling hands she started the car and drove home in the gently falling snow.

  Season for Miracles

  4

  Sitting in church the following morning, Holly noticed Kyle in the gallery. Why was he still here? He must be staying in a hotel for the weekend. With any luck he’d leave this afternoon for home, and she’d never have to see him again. She pulled herself up short.

  We don’t do luck, remember? Plus, thinking bad of him makes you just as guilty as he was yesterday. Just because he wears the same cologne, and is left-handed, doesn’t make him the killer. Yes, the killer’s still out there, but he hasn’t tried to get you again. If there was a risk of that, the police would insist on you being in protective custody, right? He won’t try again, and it isn’t Kyle. It can’t be him. Serial killers do not go to church on Sundays. Only God-fearing, upright Christian citizens do.

  Another spasm of guilt flooded her at that last thought. Yes, she still came to church, but it was more out of habit and comfort, nothing more. At first she came because someone picked her up and took her home afterwards. Her faith had wavered a lot in the days since the attack, but one of the doctors had said routine was good. That routine involved church on Sundays, so here she was.

  She tried to concentrate on the sermon, but her mind wandered. Her gaze kept flicking to Kyle. He didn’t seem to have any problems following what Pastor Jack was saying. His pen flew across the page and he flipped his Bible back and forth looking up the references. The light hit the stained glass window just above him, sending a rainbow of coloured light over him. He shifted a little, his gaze catching hers for a moment, and he smiled.

  Her heart flip-flopped. Surely that smile wasn’t for her? She’d done nothing to deserve it. Then she pulled herself up. It was probably just he’d seen a friendly face, nothing more. His suit fitted him as well as the one the previous day had. It was nice to see a man dress up for church. A rare thing these days, to find someone else who made the same effort she did.

  She stood with everyone else to sing the last hymn, and as soon as the service was over, slid out of the side door. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She headed carefully along the snowy paveme
nts to where she parked the car. The personalized plate of the car next to it glinted in the pale winter sunlight. Stacey was right. It was a lovely car and its owner knew how to look after it. He wasn’t short of a few bob either, if he could afford something that flashy.

  Holly drove home to an empty house. For the past three months there had been dress fittings, and fabric here, there and everywhere. The sewing had kept her busy and focused, giving her something to do as she recovered. Now, for the first time, she had nothing to do. Hanging up her jacket, Holly took a deep breath. The twelfth night feeling when one packed up the tree and decorations for another year, settled in the pit of her stomach.

  Changing quickly from her best dress into jeans and shirt, she went down to the kitchen. Rummaging through the freezer she picked a dinner at random and microwaved it. She sat to eat with the radio playing carols in the background. Halfway through her meal, the music stopped.

  “The naked body of a woman was found this morning in Whitgate Pastures…”

  Holly froze. The knife and fork fell from her hands and hit the plate with a clatter.

  “…outskirts of Headley Cross. Twenty-five year old Lucy Jackson, a checkout operator was assaulted and stabbed several times. The police are appealing for witnesses. Chief Superintendent Black said that similarities between this killing and the spate of six murders in Headley Cross over the past five months indicate it’s the same killer, and that this is his eighth victim. His first, Holly Carmichael, escaped with serious injuries.”

  The Chief Superintendent’s voice echoed around the small room, but Holly didn’t hear what he was saying. Her stomach churned and she ran to the bathroom, losing all she had eaten. Tears streamed. She leaned back against the cold tiled wall. She could see him, feel him, taste him. He was with her every second of every day. And now he’d struck again. He killed someone else. Why had she survived?