Christmas Magic

by Andrea Edwards

  The window housed a display of calendars, and right in the middle was the Kops for Kids Kalendar.

  “That’s it?” Casey cried. “Oh, come on. I have to get one. A couple. Dozens. I can think of hordes of people to give them to.”

  “Hordes?”

  “Hordes.”

  She dragged him into the store and found the calendar display inside. The Kops for Kids Kalendar was prominently in the middle. She took one from the pile and turned to March. Mike was standing by his police car, his shortsleeved uniform shirt open to show the rippling muscles of his chest as he gazed off into the distance.

  “I was looking for speeders,” he said.

  “Sure.” They certainly wouldn’t have been female ones. Any woman under ninety-five would’ve slowed down for a better look at a hunk like this.

  “I think I might just make it March all year round,” Casey said. “I can’t believe any other month could be so picturesque.”

  Mike looked decidedly embarrassed. “It’s for a good cause.”

  “I’ll say,” she said as she flipped through the rest of the months. “Warming up my apartment with that pose is definitely a good cause.”

  “I meant the children’s charity.”

  “Ooh, now he’s kind of cute, too,” she said, stopping at May as she peered at the tiny caption. “Tony Manning. State Police Post 25.” She looked up at Mike. “There are two hunks in your unit?”

  “He’s married,” Mike said. “And in the hospital. He was injured in the chase yesterday.”

  Casey’s whole world started spinning. “Injured?” she said, her voice suddenly a whisper. “I didn’t know anybody was injured.”

  Of course she did. The news report had said so. But after Mike had come home safely, she had refused to learn any more about the chase or the accident. She swallowed hard. “How bad?”

  “His car skidded on the ice. Broken arm and a couple of ribs, plus some bruising. Enough to make it hard to hold his kid for a few weeks.”

  “He has a kid?” Mike’s face blurred for a minute, then blurred even more. She was crying, she realized, but didn’t know how to wipe the tears away.

  “A baby,” Mike said. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  What was wrong? Good, decent family men were getting hurt. Lives were being smashed and broken. It wasn’t Mike this time, but it could have been. Just as it could be him next time.

  “Nothing,” she managed to say, but the tears were coming down even harder, racking her body until she sobbed aloud.

  And it wasn’t just the bad guys she had to worry about. It was the ice, the speed, the cars that might break down at a crucial moment. It was the sun getting in his eyes. A deer running across the road. A truck jackknifing near him. It was a blowout. Someone else’s blowout that left debris on the road. An oil spill. A kid on a bike. Vacationers trying to cross one more county before stopping for the night. Party goers having had that one last drink before hitting the road.

  “Casey?”

  She just shook her head, still trying to convince him it was nothing. But she felt his arms fold softly around her, pulling her to his chest, and she gave up the pretense and just let herself cry.

  It wasn’t as if she had a choice. The fears had finally gotten the upper hand.

  “Oh, man,” Mike muttered. He watched Gus dash off into the underbrush, then leaned against the tree to stare at the river. He was sinking and sinking fast. This was going to be one of his blackest moods yet. He’d thought getting out of the house, taking Gus for a walk, would help, but it wasn’t doing a damn bit of good.

  Actually, the whole thing made sense in a female kind of way—the whole damn emotion-laden, tear-soaked nine yards.

  “I should have known better,” he muttered. “With everything I went through with Darcy, I should have known better.”

  Well, now he did know better. Casey had been worried about him, but had decided not to show it. So when Ed had brought him home yesterday, she’d pretended that everything was hunky-dory. And had continued to do so, until hearing about Tony’s accident had brought her whole stupid facade crashing down.

  Gus returned from his explorations and they began walking back toward the house. “A guy like me just can’t let a woman in his life.”

  They came in sight of the house and Mike swallowed hard. He’d started the whole thing, so it was up to him to finish it. Bring the whole thing to a close with minimal pain to all concerned. Except him. He was a man and men were made to take pain.

  “I’ll tell her I’m moving,” he said, then grimaced. “Yeah, right. That’ll sure convince her we need to break it off. Moving ranks right up there with lying and cheating and stealing as a reason to dump somebody.”

  He waited a moment while Gus paused to inspect a bush. “So maybe it’s got to be lying, cheating or stealing. How about, ‘I lied to you, I’m already married’?” He shook his head. “She’d really believe that.”

  Gus finished and they moved on. “How about ‘I’ve been cheating on you’? That might have a chance—if I didn’t live in a town where everyone knew how often I breathed. They’ve been waiting for me to date ever since Darcy…”

  Mike stopped. “That’s it,” he said. “Darcy.”

  It was perfect. Foolproof. No woman would question it. It was also a downright lie, but sometimes that couldn’t be helped.

  Mike turned onto his driveway, and his steps slowed even more. He wished he could live the past month all over again. He would do things differently. Oh, he surely would.

  “Are you ever coming in, boy?” a voice called to him. “Or you going to lollygag out there the rest of your natural life?”

  Mike stopped and stood there, staring at the older woman in the open front door. Thirty seconds ago he would have said his mood couldn’t get any lower, but now he felt it sliding into the pits.

  “Get your butt in here, boy. We got a load of talkin’ to do and I don’t want do it out here in the gosh-darned cold.”

  Mike took a deep breath. “Hello, Aunt Myrna.”

  His great-aunt hustled him and Gus inside and into the living room. No “How have you been? How’s life treating you?” Nothing. Just a straight “Sit your ass down, I gotta talk to you.” Gus, being the intelligent dog he was, hightailed it for the upstairs. Mike assumed Casey was still lying down, since she wasn’t in sight.

  “What did you do to Casey?” Aunt Myrna asked, settling herself on the easy chair. “She’s mighty sad.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Mike said. “One of the cops in my unit got hurt yesterday and she was upset when she heard about it.”

  His great-aunt’s eyes narrowed. “She attached to this young man?”

  “She never even met him.”

  “Then that don’t make no sense.”

  It did if one thought about it, but Mike wasn’t going to explain it all to Myrna. There were too many things she could misread if she wanted to, and she always wanted to. “I think Casey’s very soft-hearted.”

  “Too soft-hearted,” Myrna agreed, and leaned forward as if sharing a state secret. “Sometimes she needs to be protected from herself.”

  She what? Mike just stared at his aunt, warning lights starting to flash in his mind.

  “Anyways, that’s not why I’m here,” his great-aunt said, leaning back once more. “I’ve been—”

  “Wait a minute,” Mike said quickly. “What do you mean, ‘she needs to be protected from herself?” A suspicion was starting to grow. A terrible suspicion.

  His aunt just waved her hand at him, gaudy red-and-gold stones flashing from her fingers. “Oh, you know how some people are.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said carefully. “I know how you are. You like to get your own way and aren’t above lying to get it.”

  She looked horrified, putting that same ring-studded hand over her chest as if she was feeling faint, but Mike knew it was all an act. He’d seen it a few too many times. “I am only trying to do the best for everyone. Madame DeMarco w
ill attest to that,” she exclaimed.

  “Your psychic doesn’t know what’s best for everyone any more than you do,” Mike retorted. “Now, was Casey in real danger from someone who was looking to harm her physically?”

  His aunt bit her lip and looked off at the Christmas tree before turning back to him. This time she was attempting the haughty Queen Victoria look. “Now, Michael, there are other types of danger, you know.”

  “Aunt Myrna.”

  “Well…”

  “Melvin was not going to come here and assault her, was he?”

  She just sighed and gave Mike a look intended to shrivel him up. It didn’t. “If you’d ever met him, you’d see why I bent the truth a little,” she snapped, abandoning her various poses. “He’s such a weasel. Always leaning on her, always wanting help and acting like he can’t do a thing on his own. Someone’s always hurting his feelings, according to him.”

  “That’s no excuse for making me think she was in actual danger,” Mike said. “I had the cops here taking extra passes by the house.”

  “Really?” His great-aunt looked pleased. “That was so thoughtful of you.” She turned serious again. “You see, she’s always rescuing something. Always. And sooner or later, she would find she had rescued Melvin right into a permanent relationship with her.”

  “She said they were friends.”

  Myrna snorted. “She’s too sweet for her own good. That’s why I sent her here.”

  “Why? So she could rescue me?”

  His aunt’s look of surprise almost fooled him. Almost. “Why, Mike? Are you in need of rescue?”

  “No, I’m not,” he replied. “That’s why it didn’t work.”

  “You know what I think—”

  They both stopped—froze, actually—as they heard the creaking of footsteps on the stairs. In another moment, Casey came round the bend in the stairs. She slowed her steps as she realized they were both staring at her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Mike said. She looked worn, beat, exhausted. As though she’d run a race about ten miles too long. “Aunt Myrna was telling me how she’s looking forward to reading the family history.”

  “Actually, I have something exciting to tell Mike,” his great-aunt said. “And I’m so glad that you’re here in time to hear it.”

  Casey looked as bewildered as Mike felt as she came across the foyer and into the living room. She sat on the far end of the sofa from Mike, looking as small and defenseless as a child. He wanted to pull her closer to him, to let her rest in the shelter of his arm, but he hadn’t forgotten about that little talk they had to have. He’d best keep his distance.

  “You know this house has been in our family ever since it was built, don’t you, Mike?” Myrna said.

  Mike forced his eyes back to her, inclined to say your family, but he didn’t. It wasn’t Myrna’s fault that he hadn’t known anything about his birth family until he was an adult. He just nodded.

  “I’d always loved this place, and Great-uncle Simon knew it, so when he died, he left it to me with the understanding I would pass it on through the family.” Aunt Myrna paused and took a deep breath. “I was never blessed with any children of my own, but I think I’ve figured out the best solution.”

  Mike went still. He didn’t like where this conversation seemed to be heading.

  “I’m going to give you the house, Mike.” Her voice grew soft like a newborn kitten’s. “I want you to marry, raise a family and grow old here.”

  “Oh, Mike, isn’t that wonderful?” Casey cried.

  Wonderful? Only if you liked being bought He didn’t want the responsibility of a house. Couldn’t risk the luxury of a house. He’d get comfortable here, and the next thing he knew, he’d be thinking about filling the rooms. He’d forget the lesson he’d learned through Darcy’s fear a year ago, and through Casey’s tears today. A cop shouldn’t marry.

  He and Aunt Myrna had been over this route a million times, though, and every time she mentioned giving him the house, he’d said no, thank you. Did she think it would work if she did it in front of someone else? He didn’t like being taken for a fool. She’d done it once by saying Casey needed protection. Now she was trying it again.

  “Aunt Myrna—”

  “We’ve got a lot to do before I leave again.” She pulled her purse over and began delving into it. “I made an appointment with some lawyer in town. He’s got the papers all ready for you to sign.”

  Just like that? He felt his lips go tight as anger started to build. “Aunt Myrna,” he repeated, a little louder this time. “I don’t want the house.”

  She stopped her search. “What?”

  She meant well, he knew, and in spite of his annoyance over her lies about Casey, he just couldn’t hurt her. “I can’t afford it.”

  “I’m not selling it,” she said. “I’m giving it to you.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Maybe I should leave,” Casey said quickly. “Why don’t I fix us some tea?”

  “There’s no need to go,” Mike said. “I’m not taking the house and that’s all that needs to be said.”

  “Yes, stay,” Myrna said to her. “Tell him what a pigheaded fool he is. He’s going to need a house one of these days. Why can’t it be this one?”

  “I really would like some tea,” Casey said, and got to her feet. “And cookies. We have lots of cookies. I’ll make some tea and bring out some cookies, shall I?”

  “Why am I going to need a house?” Mike was suddenly on his feet, too agitated to sit. “I was perfectly happy in an apartment before.”

  “Your wife and kids might not be.”

  “I have no wife and kids, and never will,” he snapped.

  “Then you’re even more of a fool than I thought.”

  “I’m gone,” Casey said, and hurried into the kitchen.

  He was relieved to see her go. It gave him more freedom to speak. “I have a right to live my life as I see fit.”

  “No matter who you hurt?”

  “If I do it right, I won’t hurt anybody.”

  “I would bet you already have.” Aunt Myrna’s voice was smug, as if she knew she’d won.

  He just stared at her for a long moment. “Believe me, it won’t happen again,” he said, and left the room.

  “This is such a beautiful old house,” Casey said. “I can’t believe he doesn’t want it.”

  “We don’t know that he doesn’t want it, dear,” Mrs. Jamison said.

  They were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea and munching on Mrs. Kinder’s Christmas cookies. Snowflake and Midnight had joined them.

  The older woman went on. “What we know for sure is that he doesn’t want to accept responsibility for it right now.”

  “But it’s been in your family for a hundred years.”

  Myrna smiled softly as she petted first one cat, then the other. “I’m sure Mike’s more concerned with how long he’s been in our family. I don’t think he’s come to terms with that yet.”

  “Maybe if I talked to him…” Casey said.

  “That boy’s got a pack of stuff to work out,” Aunt Myrna said. “Just leave him be. It’ll be easier on your nerves that way.”

  “I’m sure you know best.”

  “Well.” Myrna pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the little furry-faced scowls directed her way. “I’d best move my carcass. I got to meet with that lawyer even if Mike won’t, then I’m going over to my niece’s for a few days.”

  “Why are you so set on giving this place to Mike?” Casey asked. “You have lots of other relatives.”

  “But they’re all settled in other places. Already made their homes. It would be hard for them to move and take up here in Berrien Springs.” She shook her head with a smile. “That’s why I’m giving it to Mike. Is Melvin coming to see that you go home for Christmas?”

  Casey just shook her head at the abrupt change of topic. “I doubt it.”

  “Humph.
Too bad.”

  Casey didn’t ask why, but saw Myrna out to her car, then went in search of Mike. She found him up in the garage apartment, washing the tile floor with more dogged determination than the job called for. He was upset.

  “Myrna’s gone,” she said. The room was almost empty, with just an old kitchen table and chairs left near the door. She sat in one of the chairs.

  He wrung out the mop, and himself, if his sigh was any indication. “I heard the car.”

  “She was just trying to be nice.”

  “She was just trying to get her own way.” He leaned the mop against the wall and pulled a chair away from the table a few feet, as if putting more distance between them before he sat down. “We’ve been over it all before.”

  “You could have at least listened to her arguments.”

  He leaned his forearms on his knees and stared down at his hands. “I’ve heard them all. I don’t want the damn house. It’s too much responsibility.”

  He seemed so troubled, so torn. Casey wished she could help him. “It wouldn’t be any more responsibility than you already have.”

  “Well, that’s coming to an end.” He looked up, staring her straight in the eye. “I’ve decided to move.”

  Casey stared back. He was what? “What’s going to happen to the house?”

  “I don’t know. I just can’t stay here anymore.”

  “Mike, that’s crazy.” She leaned on the table, wishing he hadn’t put such a distance between them. “You and Myrna will work things out.”

  “Myrna has nothing to do with it,” he snapped, then took a deep breath. “It’s Darcy,” he said slowly.

  Casey went still, then sat back in her chair. “Darcy?”

  He nodded. “I thought I was over her. I thought it didn’t matter if she moved back here, but I was wrong.”

  He loved Darcy, not her. She loved him and he loved Darcy. Casey was stunned, frozen, paralyzed. No, then she wouldn’t have this slow pain creeping around to clutch at her heart.

  “You still love her?” she asked, begging for him to say she was wrong.

  But he just shrugged and looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Sorry. As if that covered it. As if that made the pain and hurt diminish. As if it made her heart start beating again.