The Holiday Hideaway

by J. L. Jarvis

  Luke leaned closer. “You cannot tell a soul.”

  “My mother needs to know.”

  “No.” Luke stared into the fire. “It was a long time ago, but there are still relationships built on your aunt’s work. It’s like a game of Jenga. Each piece might seem innocuous enough, but you never know which bit of information could start the whole thing tumbling down. Don’t tell her. Just leave it alone.”

  “Okay.” Her head was spinning too much to argue. She reloaded the backpack. “Thank you for telling me.”

  She stood up, so Luke followed suit. He looked at her with concern. “Don’t go.”

  “It’s a lot to absorb. I need some time to sort through it.” Part of her wanted to stay and talk or just be with him. She knew there must be more he could tell her about her aunt—little things, memories he might recall—but she couldn’t do it right then. He didn’t push. She was thankful for that.

  Luke followed her to the door. “I’ll watch until you’re safely inside.”

  Chloe reached her front door and looked back to see him closing his door as she closed hers.

  Sixteen

  Chloe couldn’t paint. She’d barely slept. She couldn’t think of anything but her aunt, the lost years without family. And she thought of Luke.

  She looked around at her Christmas decorations. Behind all of the festive decorations was a house filled with secrets. She should have been satisfied knowing what Luke had told her, but now she wanted it all. If there was anything else in the attic, she needed to know. There were things Luke might not know, things that might explain who her aunt was and why she had chosen the life she’d lived.

  Chloe climbed the attic stairs to sift through what was left. They wouldn’t pertain to matters of national security, but Aunt Eleanor’s boxes held clues to her personal life. One by one, Chloe went through the two dozen stacked boxes of old clothes and hats that had come back into style, some belts, and several pairs of shoes. It was an interesting lesson in fashion history, but it didn’t tell her much about Aunt Eleanor.

  In one box, old photographs lay in loose stacks. A few old albums were filled with black paper and photos held in place by black photo-mounting corners. In each photo, the faces of strangers looked out as the echoes of stories seemed to hover among them. Small items, collected and later neglected, revealed frozen moments in relationships that had long ago ended.

  Chloe moved on to the hidden room, where her aunt’s professional secrets had been hidden for years, undisturbed. A file cabinet held some old tax returns, her aunt’s college diplomas, utility bills, and the deed to the house. That might have come in handy when her lawyer was trying to determine whether her aunt had possessed a clear title to the house, but it answered no questions about her aunt.

  In the back of the drawer was a file marked “Family.” Chloe pulled it out and opened it. On top lay a snapshot of their family in front of a Christmas tree. Even then, the family was small, consisting only of Chloe’s grandparents, Chloe’s parents, and Aunt Eleanor. Chloe studied her father closely. She’d never known him. He had died before she was born. She indulged in a moment to wonder what might have been if he’d lived. Then she looked at her mother, who looked about Chloe’s current age. She and Aunt Eleanor were laughing. Chloe smiled and gently set it aside.

  She came across a brown envelope and emptied its contents. The first thing she picked up was a newspaper clipping about herself in her senior year of high school when she’d won an art scholarship. The next was a clipping of her beside one of her early paintings. She’d won her first blue ribbon at that art show. The next item was a school newspaper profile about her as an incoming graduate student. Her work had caught a good deal of attention that year. Chloe looked at her face and saw all the career promise and hope that had never panned out. The last item was Chloe’s master’s thesis, “From Rivera to Banksy: Social Commentary in Twentieth Century Murals and Street Art.” Her aunt had saved all of these clippings. She’d been following Chloe’s career.

  Chloe set down the envelope and its contents. Aunt Eleanor must have been disappointed to see Chloe’s art give way to a series of survival jobs in retail and food service. All the potential she’d shown and six years of university study had all come to that. Chloe smiled through her tears. In leaving her estate to Chloe, Eleanor had made it possible for her to follow her dreams. Chloe looked about the room that was as secret as her aunt’s life.

  Aunt Eleanor, I wish I’d been able to know you.

  The following day, Chloe’s mother came over for lunch. Chloe scanned the family Christmas photo she’d found into her computer and gave the original to her mother. Together they went to the cemetery and laid a wreath at Aunt Eleanor’s grave.

  Her mother said, “I remember her as always being there with us all but a little detached. She always seemed lost in thought, as if even while with us, she was living life elsewhere.” She touched her hand to the gravestone. “But she loved us in her way. She was proud of you, Chloe.”

  She took Chloe’s hand, and they walked to the car.

  They had lunch at a crowded cafe in the middle of town. Inside, it was warm and inviting with carols softly playing through the overhead speakers. Twinkling Christmas lights were twisted around Mylar garland and fastened with bows on the walls.

  Chloe warmed her hands on her coffee.

  “So, you’re neighbors. How close?”

  “Across the street from each other.” Chloe braced herself for what she knew from experience would be a series of questions.

  “What did you say he does for a living?”

  “I don’t think I did. But he works for the government.”

  “Well that’s good, steady work.”

  Chloe watched her mother’s expression go from presumed disappointment that he wasn’t a millionaire to relief that at least he wasn’t an artist.

  “And you’ve been going out for how long?”

  “Mom, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re just neighbors. We’ve been out a couple of times, but I wouldn’t call them dates.” Except for the neighborly kissing.

  “Do you really think I can’t read you? I don’t blame you.” She leaned forward as if she were telling a secret. “He’s very attractive.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I hadn’t noticed.”

  “But how much do you know about him?”

  Chloe assumed the neutral stare she reserved for her mother at moments like this. “Enough.”

  Her mother lifted her eyebrows. “I hope so, for your sake.”

  “Ease up on the holiday cheer, Mom. Let’s pace ourselves.”

  Chloe pulled into her driveway just as Luke was pulling out of his.

  He rolled down his window. “I’ve been called in to work.”

  The news affected her more than she wanted to admit. “So you’ll miss Christmas?”

  “No, it’s just a meeting. I’ll be back later. I was wondering… Would you like to do something together when I get back? Or hang out here? I could stop and pick up a pizza on my way home.” With amused reluctance, he said, “We could watch a Christmas movie.”

  How could she resist such an offer? “Okay. Sounds great!”

  He looked so pleased that she couldn’t help but return a broad smile. He winked. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”

  “Okay.” She waved as he drove off.

  Chloe walked inside and made some coffee as if doing something so routine might make her feel like her life wasn’t changing. But she felt like the ground was shifting beneath her, too little for anyone else to notice, but she couldn’t quite keep her balance. Her heart was gone. Luke didn’t know it yet, but it was his now. Have I had any control of it since I met him?

  Her mother was right. Even now—especially now—that she knew what he really did for a living, there were so many reasons for caution. But when she was with Luke, nothing else mattered. She was under no illusions. The truth was, she didn’t know where the relationship was going, but she didn’t care as lo
ng as she was with him.

  She thought about Luke all afternoon. She paced in her studio. There was so much that she didn’t understand. She knew what she felt, but love was so much more than feelings. She stopped pacing. Love. That was what this was. Of course love had always been a possibility, but Chloe had always envisioned it as something in the future that she would see coming like a hazy mirage on the horizon, a promise that would slowly unfold, and yet might or might not turn out to be real. She had never imagined that she would arrive there alone.

  Does he feel it too? She had no idea and even less control. There was nothing she could do anymore. She just had to wait to find out whether the love she felt would fill her heart or break it. There seemed to be no in-between.

  And that brought her back to the crux of her problem. Her heart might be out of control, but she still had a brain. If she couldn’t control her feelings, at least she could determine her actions. Setting aside the issue of what Luke felt in return, there was the matter of his career. Every time he was called in to work, he wouldn’t be able to tell her what he was doing or what sort of danger he was in. And he would be in danger. That much was certain. The guy had a bullet wound in his head for God’s sake. Is that something I can live with?

  She plopped down on an overstuffed chair by the window. What am I doing, carrying on as though Luke even wants me in his life? Sure, we’re great movie pals, but maybe I’m borrowing trouble. If I’m not, if he loves me and wants me in his life, what will I do?

  In that moment, she knew the answer. Despite all of her questions and doubts, she knew what she wanted—to spend her life with him. No matter what he did for a living or how frightened she was for his safety, she was willing to accept it because she loved him. She loved him no matter how many secrets he had to keep from her or how much danger he might face. She couldn’t help loving him. She hoped he felt the same.

  Dusk had fallen by the time Luke arrived home. He texted Chloe to say he would be there in a couple of minutes. Inside, he splashed water on his face and wiped it dry while he looked into the mirror. He combed his fingers through his hair, touching the scar that had become so familiar. He kept his hair a bit longer than was fashionable just to cover it. He’d grown so tired of people asking what had happened that he’d started telling them he’d fallen in a skateboard park. That always amused him. He’d never been on a skateboard in his life.

  He walked into his bedroom and stared out the window. He could only see the shadowy outline of trees. He put on a clean shirt, donned his jacket, and headed over to Chloe’s. They needed to talk.

  Chloe opened her door with a smile, but it faded as soon as she looked at him. He hadn’t meant to appear so serious, but she seemed to pick up on his mood nonetheless.

  Chloe poured him a glass of wine, and they sat by the fire. He’d spent so much of his life telling lies that he felt some relief to be able to let down his guard and honestly share how his meeting had gone. “The results came back from some medical tests.”

  Chloe fixed her eyes on his with quiet concern.

  “I’m okay—fit to go back to work.”

  “And the headaches and threat of seizures?”

  “There’s nothing to indicate they’ll recur.”

  Chloe nodded. “What comes next?”

  “Back to work. I’ll return after the holidays.”

  “That’s good.” She didn’t look like she meant it, but he appreciated the effort.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “What would you have done if you hadn’t been able to go back to work?”

  “I thought about that. I’d change jobs. I could try to do something with my law degree. I knew a guy who worked for a government agency as a lawyer. From there, I could become an administrative law judge.”

  “Wait. Back up. Law degree?” Of all the things he had told her, this appeared to surprise her the most.

  “Yeah, I’m a licensed attorney. I guess that’s never come up. That’s where I was recruited—in law school.”

  Chloe’s eyebrows drew together. “So… men in black suits and aviator sunglasses just walked into class and handpicked you like they were choosing a team in PE?”

  Luke laughed. “Not quite, but they were surprisingly open about it. It was listed just like the other jobs in the placement office.”

  Chloe stared in disbelief. “What, like ‘Spy Wanted’?”

  He grinned. “No, not exactly. It basically listed the agency and some sort of vague paragraph about what they were looking for. You know, there are a lot of jobs in the CIA besides spying.”

  Chloe stared off thoughtfully. “I guess there would be. I’ve never really thought about it.”

  “By my second year of law school, I knew I would hate being a lawyer, so I applied.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “No. I didn’t exactly enjoy living a lie, but I believed in what I was doing. You learn to compartmentalize. I’ve tried to be honest, as much as I could, in my personal life.” He took hold of her hand. “I’ve tried to be honest with you.”

  Chloe stared at their entwined hands. “I know.” She looked a bit lost, as if she believed in him but wasn’t yet comfortable with it. He couldn’t blame her. Dating a spy wasn’t anything she’d ever sought out, so he knew he couldn’t be what she’d always wanted. He could only hope she would grow accustomed to the idea of dating someone in the CIA.

  Chloe ran her fingers through her hair. “What’s going to happen?”

  “To us or to me… with my job?”

  “Any of it. All of it. There are so many what-ifs.”

  “Why don’t we just worry about us?”

  She searched his eyes. “Us? I’m not sure what that is or what we can be.”

  “We’re together. At least that’s what I want us to be.”

  Chloe nodded with that same lost look in her eyes. “Me too. But there are so many unknowns.”

  Luke took her face in his hands. “Let’s not worry about that now. Let’s just take it one step at a time. Step one: we’re together.” He kissed her and enfolded her in his arms.

  Seventeen

  Determined to block out the world and its woes, Luke and Chloe set about enjoying the evening with a vengeance.

  An hour into the evening, Chloe cried out in mock terror. “We’ve run out of wine!”

  “Calm yourself, milady, I am always prepared. Let us go anon to my secret stash in yonder lair!”

  Her eyes lit up. “So you’ve got a bottle stashed in your pantry? Awesome!”

  He smiled. “Exactly! Let’s go!”

  They both threw on their boots and coats without bothering to zip them closed and ran out into the cold night. They crossed the road to Luke’s house while laughing and kicking up snow in their wake. Luke unlocked the door while Chloe rubbed her bare hands and stomped her feet, then they hurried inside.

  “How long does it take to get hypothermia?” she asked.

  “At least fourteen minutes more than you spent out there in the cold. Sorry, but you’ll have to go back outside and try harder. Although…” He drew her into his arms. “If you’re worried about it, I can lend you some body heat.” He kissed her and held her against him, which warmed them both up. Then he held her face and kissed her again. “Why did we come over here anyway?”

  She laughed. “Wine!”

  “Did I say I had wine?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but he kissed her before she could say anything.

  His phone rang. He looked at it then wrinkled his face. He gave Chloe a helpless “I’ve got to take this” look. “Mom?”

  “Are you still coming for Christmas? I know how you are,” his mother said. She had every reason to doubt. He had canceled or been late for family Christmas dinners more often than not.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” While he chatted with his mother, he took Chloe’s hand and led her to the pantry. He pulled a bottle of wine from the built-in wine rack and handed it to her along with a corksc
rew he retrieved from a drawer. Chloe opened the bottle, found two glasses, and poured. She sat at the counter and sipped on her wine until he ended the call.

  “Sorry. I was supposed to call home earlier, but I got distracted.” He brightened his tone. “But we’re not going to think about that tonight, are we?”

  “No. We’re going to go do something fun. What’ll it be? Frozen dinner and dancing? A movie?” She stopped and stared. On the floor, propped against one of the walls was a painting. “That’s mine.”

  “I know.” He’d meant to hang it before he let her see it.

  “You bought it?”

  “Well, I didn’t steal it. Remember? I’m not a crook after all.”

  “I would have given you one.”

  He shrugged. “I wanted this one.”

  “That was really nice of you, but it feels like a pity purchase.”

  “What are you talking about? I saw it. I loved it. I bought it. Isn’t that how it works, or am I missing something?”

  “Thank you.” She looked away, but he could tell she was bothered.

  “Have I done something wrong?”

  “No. But how would you feel if I sent you a check for clearing my driveway?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’d feel like a professional driveway clearer.” She wasn’t amused. “Come on. The two aren’t exactly comparable, are they? One is a purchase in a retail shop, and the other is a neighborly act.”

  “I guess.” She heaved a sigh. “Thank you for buying my painting. I’m flattered—and richer. But next time, pay me in dinner or wine. Okay?”

  He reached out and shook her hand. “Deal.” Then he drew her closer and kissed her.

  They decided to look for a movie to stream. While Luke scrolled through their options, Chloe asked, “What’s your family like? You haven’t told me anything about them.”