Snow Angel (The Hope Falls Chronicles)

by Shawn, Melanie

  Lily looked up at his mom with question in her face. “Ready for what?”

  “Well, someone very special wanted to come see you.” His mom’s rounded cheeks turned up in a smile. “We’re ready!”

  The door opened, and Shadow came bounding in, not missing a stride as he jumped up in Lily’s bed.

  “My handsome boy!” she exclaimed happily as he licked her face. “Thank you for saving me.” She threw her arms around his neck and Shadow pressed his body to hers.

  “It was the darndest thing. We told him to be a good boy and not bother Laverne and Shirley while we visited Lily in the hospital and he barked and ran to the door,” his mom animatedly explained. “So I asked him if he wanted to go and he barked again. Well then, you know your father he was saying that they wouldn’t allow him in here and it was unsanitary so I just called Clarabelle at reception and the whole thing was approved in less than five minutes. He can stay with Lily as long as she wants him to.”

  “Thank you,” Lily said, still hugging Shadow tightly. “Thank you so much.”

  The door opened again and Karina came in, holding a huge bouquet of flowers. She smiled widely when she saw Shadow on the bed.

  “Hi Lil… I mean Karla,” Karina stammered. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better, thanks. And you can still call me Lily. My middle name is Liliana, and one of the only memories I have of my mom is her calling me her Lily Bud. It’s the reason I chose it when I was able to pick my own alias.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet,” Karina said as she set the flowers down. “Well, I just wanted to stop by and make sure you were okay.” Then, motioning down at Shadow, she said, “Which I see you are.”

  Everyone smiled down at Shadow, who lay down beside Lily, his head resting on her lap.

  “Call me if you need anything,” Karina instructed as she stepped up and gave Lily a hug. “And all the girls wanted me to say hi and make sure you knew that they are just a phone call away.”

  Lily nodded as she hugged Karina back.

  “You take good care of her.” Karina patted Shadow’s head as she straightened then turned to leave.

  Shadow barked in response and everyone chuckled.

  As she was walking out, Karina said, with a studied, casual tone that made it clear she was only trying to make it seem as if this was some throwaway afterthought, “Oh, and we all have, like, a million questions for you. So as soon as you’re up to it, we are calling a book club meeting.”

  Lily let out a little laugh. “Okay. Tell the girls I said hi.”

  As the door shut behind Karina, Eric's parents said their goodbyes as well, leaving Shadow, Eric, and Lily by themselves.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, noticing that she was a little pale—not that he would point that out. He had learned his lesson.

  “I’m a little tired,” she admitted, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe all that had happened. He knew the feeling.

  “Why don’t you try and get some sleep?” Eric suggested, not wanting her to wear her out.

  “No,” she said firmly, even though her eyes were already drifting closed.

  “No?” he asked.

  “Not before I tell you…I love you.” She blinked slowly. “I love you so much.” She was able to get it out just as she lost the battle and her heavy-lidded eyes shut.

  Eric glanced down at Shadow, who was more than content resting in Lily’s lap. He said quietly, “Well, boy, we got her to ‘not date’ us. Now all we have to do is get her to ‘not marry’ us.”

  Shadow barked.

  Eric’s eyes shot to Lily to make sure Shadow hadn’t disturbed her. She still slept, and Eric noticed she had a small smile on her face. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. His heart expanded in his chest, filling with more love than he ever thought was humanly possible.

  “I love you,” he whispered against her skin, love and determination filling his entire being. His heart ached for what Lily had been through, and it made him crazy thinking of her being scared and alone. He didn’t know how she had survived it, but he did know one thing for sure. She wasn’t alone anymore. He was going to spend the rest of his life protecting her, caring for her, and loving her.

  And kissing her…against a wall.

  Sneak Peek: Snow Days

  “No, no, no, no. It has to be here,” Amy said under her breath as she crouched down to look under the wooden table in the middle of the tiny teacher’s lounge.

  Not there.

  Lifting the cushions of the tattered mauve couch that sat in the corner, she frantically searched even though logically she knew there was no way her bag could have gotten wedged there. It was too big.

  Putting her weight against the corner, she shoved the couch about a foot away from the wall to see if it had fallen down in the back behind it.

  No luck.

  Adrenaline rushed through her veins like a flash flood. The pounding of her heart was so hard she thought it might actually come right through her chest. She spun slowly in a circle as her eyes scanned every surface, corner, and crevice of the small space.

  It’s not here.

  Trying to calm herself down, she concentrated on steadying her breaths. It was quiet—almost too quiet. The only sound in the room was her labored breathing. Her mind raced with the consequences of her careless actions.

  What if the administration found it? What if the janitor found it? What if a student found it?

  She had to find it. She. Had. To.

  Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth slowly, she mentally retraced her steps. She’d had her bag this morning at her desk. She’d had it at lunch, which she’d spent here in the lounge. She’d had it on her prep hour when she’d met the new history teacher, Mr. Kellan.

  Oh, boy, Mr. Matt Kellan. A shiver ran down her spine at just the thought of him.

  Wait! That’s it! She’d stuffed it under the desk when Principal Walters had come in to introduce her to the newest addition to the staff and inform her that they would now be sharing her room during fifth period for their prep period.

  It had to still be there.

  Not wasting a second, she flew out of the door. Her feet squeaked on the polished tile floor of the hall as she power-walked, double-timing it to get to room 207. Her body tensed as a loud slam sounded behind her from the heavy door to the teacher’s lounge. You had to hold that sucker until it shut or it shook the entire floor.

  Thank God the halls were deserted. It was well past the time that the students and most of the teachers and staff had gone home for the day. She would have been on her way as well, if she hadn’t been stuck at a parent-teacher meeting.

  Amy tried to block out that little voice in her head that was screaming, Why did you bring such sensitive material to school?

  She was a smart girl. She should have known better. What in the world had she been thinking?

  She hadn’t been—that was the problem. Since embarking on this project, she found that the entire process of self-discovery had kind of taken over her life. She was consumed by it. Completely. And now she may have put her job at risk.

  Damn.

  Holding on to the glimmer of hope that her bag would safely be sitting under her desk, she took a deep, fortifying breath as she turned the metal handle and pulled the heavy door open. Stepping inside, she rushed towards her desk. Looking up, she was stopped cold in her tracks. She stopped breathing. Her stomach dropped to the floor.

  This can’t be happening.

  The new teacher. The new, ridiculously good-looking teacher. The new, ridiculously good-looking married teacher was sitting at her—or their—desk with her notebooks scattered about, wide open in front of God and everyone.

  “Are you okay, Ms. Maguire?” Mr. Kellan asked, his sea green eyes widening with concern.

  Calm. She had to stay calm. Maybe he hadn’t read any of her research. Maybe there was another explanation for them being displayed on the desktop. Clearing her throat to steady her vo
ice, she said, “You can call me Amy. Mr. Kellan—”

  “Please, call me Matt.” A disarming smile appeared on his sun-kissed face, showcasing a deep dimple in his right cheek.

  Amy had to stop herself from swooning.

  Shaking her head slightly to clear it, she decided that the best course of action was to get in and out of there. No reason to prolong her embarrassment. She had no idea what he had read and it really didn’t matter. She was here to grab her things—no need to make a big deal about it. “Matt, I just forgot my bag and was coming back to get it.”

  She began quickly closing the notebooks as she collected them. She moved around the desk to grab her bag so she wouldn’t be awkwardly balancing fifteen notebooks in her arms. Moving out of her way, Matt stood slowly with ease, and that’s when it happened. She smelled him.

  Not able to stop herself, Amy took in a deep breath through her nose. He had a unique scent of Irish Spring soap, fabric softener, olive oil, and well…just man. He smelled utterly, deliciously male, causing a flutter deep in her belly.

  When she realized that she had just been lusting after his scent, her eyes flew up to his. He was staring down at her in what looked like disbelief. She started to think that maybe she should apologize for her thoughts, considering that he was a married man. But that was ridiculous. There was no way he was a mind reader.

  He wasn’t moving and she couldn’t reach her bag. Scooting around him seemed dangerous since her body seemed to be having a very strong reaction to him. “Excuse me,” she said as she reached her arm out and pressed her body even closer to the desk in an effort to avoid any actual physical contact.

  He remained still. She wasn’t sure what to do. She felt sort of stuck. If she moved at all, she might accidently brush up against him.

  Finally, motioning to the stack of notebooks she held in her right arm, he asked, “Those are yours?”

  Amy felt her throat begin to close as her palms grew damp. She had always been a fiercely private person, and these notebooks held information more personal than any diary or journal she’d had growing up. And she’d kept those in a locked safe. With two older brothers and a little sister, she hadn’t had much choice.

  Knowing that this man she’d just met today and would have to see every day when they shared a prep period had seen the contents made her a little dizzy with anxiety. But this was as a good an opportunity as she might ever get to assert herself and own her actions. Which were two things she’d been trying to improve on.

  “Yes.” Her voice was thankfully coming out much stronger than she actually felt. “They are.”

  His perfect dark brows knitted together as he took a step back. “For what class?”

  “They aren’t for a class. They’re personal.” Amy used the space he’d created when he’d been taken aback—literally—to turn and gather her things.

  “Oh.” He exhaled a short breath before explaining. “I kicked the bag under the desk and they all came tumbling out. When I picked one up, well, what I saw caught my attention, and then I admit I was curious so I looked through a few. But there were no names. I had no idea it was your bag, your notebooks. I’m sorry,” he apologized.

  “It’s fine,” Amy replied. She was so glad that her back was to him since she would bet her last dollar that her face was as bright red as Rudolf’s nose.

  After returning all of her materials safely to her satchel, she pulled the wide straps up on her shoulder and began moving to the door, not looking back. “Have a nice night. And, um, welcome to Hope Falls High.”

  “Amy.”

  Her name on his lips caused the butterfly flutters she’d been feeling to turn into a heavy pulse.

  Uh oh.

  She needed to get out of there. Now. But she couldn’t be rude just because she was beyond humiliated and inappropriately attracted to her new, married colleague.

  Standing up a little straighter and gathering the last bit of her dignity, she turned on her heels to face him. “Yes?”

  “Can I ask you something?” His voice was even, but the look in his eye sent Amy’s heart racing.

  “Of course.” Her voice, however, was not sounding quite as strong as it had a few moments before.

  “What are you doing with all of that?” His tone held not one hint of judgment in it—only curiosity.

  “It’s a project I’m working on.”

  He again motioned to her bag. “So those are interviews you’ve conducted?”

  Her hands tightened around the cloth straps. She couldn’t believe someone else had seen her work. Swallowing hard and trying not to let the tornado of panic she felt growing inside get out of hand, she simply answered honestly. “Yes.”

  “Are you only interviewing women?”

  “So far, all of my interview subjects have been women.”

  “Is it a controlled case study?”

  Amy’s fingers relaxed from their tight fisted grip and she let out a forced laugh. “Not really. It’s just that the only guys I know to ask would be my friends’ significant others or my brothers—neither of which I really want to interview.”

  “What about me?” Matt’s eyes sparked with interest, and Amy felt her fingers once again contract.

  “I don’t think, um… Don’t you… Shouldn’t you ask your wife before agreeing to—”

  “I’m not married…anymore.” Matt’s expression fell and his eyes cast down as he turned his wedding ring in a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m a widow. I lost my wife five years ago in a car accident.”

  “Oh.” Amy felt like all of the air in the room had just been sucked out. She was completely at a loss as to what to say but wanted to say something. “I’m sure you always hear this but I am so sorry for your loss. I can’t even begin to imagine…”

  “Thank you.”

  His emerald green eyes lifted to hers and the raw pain she saw there broke her heart into a million pieces.

  “So can I participate in your study?” he asked.

  “What?” Confusion swam in Amy’s head.

  “Would you like to interview me?”

  She searched his eyes to see if he was serious. He had to be. Why would he joke about this? But why would a man she’d just met want to do this?

  As if reading her mind, he shrugged. “The data you’re collecting looks interesting, and it might be a nice distraction.”

  Oh, okay. That made sense. She reached up and touched the bridge of her nose, forgetting that she no longer wore glasses. Shifting her weight as she pulled her bag up higher on her shoulder, she answered, “Sure. Just let me know what a good time for you would be.”

  “How about now?”

  “Now?” Her heart slammed in her chest.

  His mouth tilted into a crooked smile and that dang dimple made another appearance. “Unless you’re busy.”

  Her hands began to shake and her stomach felt like it had the one and only time she’d gone on a roller coaster. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her rioting nerves. She could do this. It was just another interview. And the male point of view would be very helpful.

  An unmarried point of view.

  “Now’s fine.” She quickly moved to take a seat at one of the student’s desks but Matt stopped her.

  “Sit here, please.” He pulled out the chair behind the desk, drawing her attention to his muscled forearms. Matt was wearing a black V-neck sweater with the sleeves rolled up, and Amy had a hard time not drooling over the sculpted perfection of his masculine arms.

  As she passed by him, she brushed against him. Feeling the hair on his chiseled forearm sent a chill dancing through her. Then, as she sat down on her ergonomic chair, she once again smelled his intoxicating scent, causing her body to hum as Matt moved to the other side of the desk. A little voice piped up in her head, he’s not married.

  Deciding to ignore her body’s reactions and inner voice, she pulled out her last blank notebook from her bag and opened it.

  This is just another intervi
ew, she reminded herself.

  “What do you find sexy?” she asked, looking down at the lined paper while holding the pen in her hand, waiting to record his response. After a few moments, she looked up to see if the question may have offended him or if he was just too uncomfortable to answer.

  Her mouth went dry when she saw Matt’s stare fixed on her, his lips tilting into a slight grin, and not one but two deep dimples embedded in his cheeks.

  Oh boy.

  Excerpt: My First

  THE CROSSROADS SERIES

  Book One

  Chapter One

  “Welcome home!” Katie said sardonically to herself as she sat, eyes closed, in her rental car on the side of Highway 90. She had a paper bag pressed tightly against her mouth and a mantra running through her brain on repeat.

  You can breathe. Just breathe. Breathe in and out slowly. You can breathe.

  Katie had been back in Illinois for less than an hour and here she was, smack dab in the middle of her first panic attack in five years. She gripped the steering wheel hard, trying to soothe her racing heart to anchor herself to reality. She forced her movements to be slow and deliberate.

  This seems to be working, albeit slowly, she assured herself. When the overpriced therapist who taught her the breathing exercise and mantra had laid out his plan, Katie had wanted to roll her eyes. She had wanted to tell him that he clearly had no flipping idea what a panic attack really felt like if he thought that repeating a little magic spell in her mind about breathing was going to have any effect at all. She had wanted to tell him that panic attacks didn't feel like nervousness or butterflies you could just calm with the power of your mind. They felt like you were having a heart attack, like you were dying. Have you ever heard of someone having a heart attack curing themselves by simply telling themselves to breathe?

  Of course, Katie hadn't said any of those things. She had smiled politely, practiced with the bag, and kept her judgment of his professional aptitude (i.e., that he was a total quack!) entirely to herself.

  Still, since she hadn't had a panic attack in the past five years. She hadn't ever been able to test out the technique and prove his quackitude with rock-solid evidence. Now that she was in the middle of one and the exercise actually seemed to be working?