She laid her hand on his forearm. “Of course! I was too scared to ask you, you being a year ahead.”
He shook his head, rubbing his face. “We’re a couple of cowards, aren’t we?”
Mallory laughed as he put his hand on hers, stroking her fingers. Attraction burned through her like a bonfire, warmth spreading from her heart to her head and down her ribs into her toes like a thick quilt settling around her shoulders. He squeezed her hand and she entwined her fingers in his.
She could get used to this.
The woman at the counter brought over their food. Mallory grinned. Both cups of coffee had whipped cream and both pastries were blueberry-peach crumbles. They’d ordered the same thing.
“I like a little coffee with my milk and chocolate,” he said, laughing. “Not the manliest of drinks.”
“We ordered the same thing,” said Mallory.
“Wow, that’s never happened before,” he said, staring at her. His eyes lit, enveloping her in warmth.
She felt a vibration at her hip and reached into her fleece’s pocket, but her phone wasn’t vibrating. It was the snowflake clock. Her pocket glowed soft lavender now.
“Okay, favorite band,” Mallory asked, picking up her coffee cup.
“Pearl Jam,” said Rowan.
“Zeppelin,” said Mallory.
“A classics woman,” Rowan replied. “I like that.” He took a sip of coffee. “Favorite movie?”
“Tie. It’s a Wonderful Life and Lord of the Rings,” Mallory replied.
“Which one?” Rowan asked.
“Return of the King,” they both said in unison.
“That’s my third favorite movie,” said Rowan, picking up his fork. “Mine are It’s a Wonderful Life and The Shawshank Redemption.”
Mallory frowned, crossing her arms. “No fair, Shawshank’s in my top five. Cats or Dogs?”
“Cats,” he said.
“Same.” Mallory laughed and took a bite of her pastry.
A huge grin spilled across his face. He leaned closer. “Favorite holiday?”
“Christmas,” they both replied.
“Art or Science?” Rowan asked, his forehead almost touching hers.
Mallory pointed a finger at him, chuckling. “Trick question. Art and science.”
He nodded. “You got me!”
He took another sip of coffee, whipped cream smearing his chin. Mallory reached out and gently wiped it away. He cradled her hand, staring into her eyes and she felt herself tumble into the clear blue depths of his eyes, not wanting to look away. All those pent-up high school feelings rushed back, the attraction so strong.
She couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward and brushed a kiss across his lips. Surprise filled his eyes a moment. He kissed back.
***
They talked about high school, movies, and life approaching thirty until nearly six o’clock. She walked with him back to the store and he told her how he found his cat, Marshall. Halfway there, he slid his hand into hers, fingers entwining. He felt so familiar, so comfortable. She smelled a trace of his aftershave, hints of sandalwood complementing her vanilla body spray. The snowflake clock vibrated in her front pocket, reminding her why she was here.
Just before they reached Second Street, Rowan mumbled a curse and jerked her into the nearby alley. He pressed his back against the bricks, chest heaving, brow beaded in sweat as he motioned her quiet and held his breath.
Mallory understood as a flash of white-blonde hair streaked past the alley entrance.
Lindsey.
Mallory watched her round the corner and disappear. Had she been watching Rowan’s shop? Or them just now?
Rowan grabbed her hand and pulled her across the street into the drug store. By the time they reached the back door, he was shaking.
“What’s wrong?” Mallory asked.
“I’ll explain, I promise,” he said as he glanced outside and across the parking lot.
He pulled her outside, both of them running across the parking lot and around the back of his shop. He unlocked the back door and they bolted inside, locking it behind them.
***
She desperately wanted to tell him that she’d come to save him as he paced the small storeroom. Homemade wooden shelves packed with cardboard boxes and sacks lined all four walls. Two long tables stood in the center of the room, one with spools of ribbons in various colors, another with stacks of colored tissue paper. A coffee mug with pens, markers, box cutters, scissors, and a stapler sat on the other table. The room smelled like wet paper and bayberry from a nearby box of candles.
Still shaking, Rowan paced the room, hands on his hips.
“Tell me what’s happening,” said Mallory.
“I wish I’d found you a year ago, Mall,” he said, exasperation in his voice, a haunted look in his eyes. “That’s when I had two dates with a crazy woman. Now, she thinks we’re getting married and I’m going to father her kids. She follows me day and night, leaves tons of messages on my phone—even sits outside my apartment.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ve moved twice already.”
“Have you called the police?” Mallory asked.
He nodded, his frantic pacing slowing. “I already filed a restraining order.” Desperation crept into his eyes. “I’m afraid she’s going to do something, Mall.”
Mallory couldn’t stand the vulnerable look on his face, the hint of fear hovering there. She put her arms around him and he held onto her.
“Who is it?” she asked, knowing already.
“Lindsey Tull.”
“The blonde you hid from?” she asked, knowing it was.
“Yeah. Sorry for scaring you to death back there. Didn’t want her to see you and come after you, too. She’s already scared away two women.”
Mallory let him go. “Well, she won’t scare me away.”
“You don’t understand. She’s dangerous. She’s been arrested twice. Once for attacking her ex-husband. Once for attacking his new wife. But both times, they dropped the charges.”
Rowan’s grandma, Stella Kittering, stepped into the back room wearing black pants and a fuchsia blouse, thick silver hair in a ponytail. “I thought I heard you back here, Rowan. I just locked up.” She smiled at Mallory. “Mallory, isn’t it? Your high school crush, right?”
Rowan’s face turned bright red and he nodded, staring at his boots.
“Good to see you, Mrs. Kittering,” Mallory replied.
Stella glanced from Rowan to Mallory. “How was your date?”
“It was terrific,” said Mallory, smiling at Rowan. “Can’t wait to go out again.”
He reached out and took her hand, squeezing. “I’d love to take you to supper, Mall. This weekend, next week—you pick the day and I’ll be there, no matter what.”
Her heart ached. On Wednesday, he’d be dead. Unless she could stop it.
“As soon as we take care of this problem,” said Mallory.
Stella’s face darkened. “That Tull woman?”
Mallory felt something brush against her leg. She looked down, seeing Marshall against her calf. He trilled a meow and put his paws on her knee, begging her to pick him up.
“Hi there, big guy,” she said, hefting the huge, purring cat into her arms. “He’s beautiful, Rowan.” She hugged him and set him down. “I have an idea on how to stop this.”
Rowan shook his head. “Nobody can stop this.”
“The police won’t arrest her unless she breaks the law. So what if we turn the tables on her? Push her into acting—violating the restraining order.”
Stella looked frightened. She put her arms around Rowan’s waist. “How?” Stella asked.
“Let’s put a sign in the store window,” said Mallory, “announcing that the store will close early on Christmas Eve due to a private celebration of your engagement to ... to me. She shows up, violates the restraining order, and they arrest her.”
“No,” Rowan snapped. “I’m not involving you in this mess, Mal
l. And I don’t want her coming after you.”
“Hildy’s husband’s a cop. He’ll help.”
Rowan relaxed a little.
“Strother knows the Sheriff well,” said Stella. “I’ll call home and have Strother invite him and Rick Geller over for supper tonight to discuss this.”
Mallory winked at Rowan. “Think you could pretend to be engaged to me for five days?”
He pulled her into his arms. “It’ll be a struggle, but I’ll manage.”
“All right,” said Mallory, leaning against Rowan. “Let’s move. We only have five days.”
***
Mallory went to the gingerbread house on Spring Street for supper. It seemed so strange. She already lived here. She hoped that, by the time this ended, so would Rowan.
Shortly, Sheriff Clark and Deputy Rick Geller, both in street clothes, arrived for pot roast and cabernet.
Rowan met Mallory at the door, looking handsome in his blue dress shirt and khaki pants. He took her hand, smelling like cedar and sandalwood, and led her into a formal dining room with built-in sideboards, white wainscoting, burgundy striped wallpaper, and an antique mahogany dining table.
Stella wore the same outfit, her husband, Strother in a yellow sweater and tan pants. The mood over dinner was light, Sheriff Clark and Strother telling stories. Rick, tall and lanky with short black hair, joked about high school with Mallory and Rowan.
After peach pie and ice cream, they settled onto mint green couches in the parlor, listening to Mallory’s plan.
“This is very dangerous, young lady,” said Sheriff Clark, his belly straining against his white dress shirt and dark pants. He wore glasses, his thin brown hair combed over. “Restraining orders don’t stop bullets. This woman has a history of violence. Someone could die.”
Mallory winced, the memory of Rowan’s obituary still vivid.
“If we wait for her to snap, Rowan could die. Why not force an overload where we can control it? With officers as backup?”
Rick nodded. “Why Christmas Eve, Mall?”
Mallory felt time twist around her. Everything went back to Christmas Day. By changing the date and location of Lindsey’s attack, Mallory hoped to alter the event. And stop Rowan from dying.
“According to public record,” said Sheriff Clark, “Lindsey Tull was married before, on Christmas Day. And divorced five years ago.”
The room fell quiet.
Mallory reached into her pocket for the snowflake clock. It was gone! She searched both pockets and her purse, but it wasn’t there.
What happened now?
“Now, officially, I can’t sanction this and I can’t assign officers,” said Sheriff Clark. “But as a friend of the family, I’d be happy to attend your engagement party, Rowan.”
“With his deputy,” said Rick.
“Thank you,” said Rowan. “I’ll put up a sign tomorrow.”
Stella entered the room, carrying the snowflake clock. Mallory relaxed.
“Rowan? Mallory? Come here, please.”
Rowan rose from the couch, Mallory beside him, following Stella into a sunny yellow kitchen with painted blue cabinets. It smelled warm with onions and garlic as Stella pressed the clock into Rowan’s hands.
“This is a family heirloom,” said Stella. “Its magic helped four generations find true love, including your Mom. Now, it’s your turn, Rowan.”
The moment the clock touched Rowan’s palm it glimmered a soft red, the hands spinning.
Rowan laughed. “Magic? Really, Grandma?”
“During Christmas, the clock glows in the presence of true love.”
She put Mallory’s hand on top of Rowan’s. The moment their hands touched, the clock gleamed purple. The hands stopped, ticking slowly forward now.
Rowan smiled at Mallory. “It’s glowing.”
Stella grinned. “Like snowflakes, no two loves are alike. When fire and earth collide, like two hearts, they entwine forever—like crystal.”
Was there magic in this clock or was it just a game?
All Mallory knew for sure was that she’d been crazy about Rowan since high school. She looked up and he was staring at her.
“We need an engagement ring,” said Rowan.
“Here,” said Stella. “Use mine. I’ll put a bit of tape on the band. It’s a little big for Mallory.”
Rowan grinned. “Will you marry me, Mall?”
“Not even on one knee,” Mallory snapped, rolling her eyes.
He sighed, dropping to one knee. He slid the ring onto Mallory’s left ring finger. “Will you marry me for five days, Mall?”
“I will.”
He stood up and put his arms around her. His kiss was like a lightning strike coursing through every nerve and blood vessel. He let her go and she gasped, overwhelmed by the heat and force.
“I hope this works,” said Rowan, glancing at the clock.
“Me, too,” Mallory whispered, gripping his hand.
***
The next day, Rowan put a sign on the door, closing the shop at 4 P.M. on Christmas Eve and mentioning the private engagement party for Rowan Brophy and his fiancée, Mallory.
All weekend, he and Mallory were inseparable, kissing and holding hands in public, shopping and eating out. The news spread fast through the island town. Sunday night, when Mallory and Rowan walked back to his apartment, Rowan found all four of his truck tires slashed.
Inside, Lindsey left forty-eight messages on his answering machine. All of them were screaming, hate-filled rants, threatening him and Mallory. But the last message was the most chilling.
“Merry Christmas, Rowan,” she whispered and hung up.
Rowan was shaking as he sat down on the sofa. Mallory went into the kitchen and grabbed two beers out of fridge, opening them. Two cans of Coke leaned against a six-pack of Pyramid ale.
She shuddered, remembering them still in the fridge a year later. Fear washed over her now. She couldn’t lose Rowan. Somewhere over the past few days, she’d fallen in love with him.
She handed Rowan an ale. He took a long pull off the bottle as Mallory settled beside him. He snuggled against her, arms around her.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Mall,” he whispered, pressing feather kisses across her neck and mouth, sipping her lips.
“I’m so glad I walked into your shop this week,” said Mallory.
“I put in It’s a Wonderful Life,” he said between kisses. “Let’s lasso the moon.”
“And the stars,” said Mallory as the movie’s opening credits appeared.
***
The next morning, Christmas Eve, Mallory awoke on the couch in Rowan’s arms, her face against his chest. Marshall was curled up between them. She caressed Rowan’s face, sexy with beard shadow and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. The snowflake clock lay beside him, still glowing purple.
His eyes rolled open and he smiled through half-closed lids. “Mornin’, Mall.” He kissed her softly on the lips.
“Good morning,” she said, “Merry Christmas.”
He stiffened, his face turning pale.
“Sorry,” she said, remembering last night’s creepy message from Lindsey.
He sat up, shooing the cat onto the floor. “It’s okay,” he said, rubbing his face. “What time is it?”
“Nine,” Mallory replied, stretching.
“I’ve got to open the shop,” he said, sounding distant and distracted. He glanced at the answer machine. No new messages.
The calm before the storm.
“I need a shower,” said Mallory.
“Okay, see you soon,” he said, pulling her into his arms for a kiss.
Mallory left the apartment to make preparations at Hildy’s place.
***
It was almost one o’clock when Mallory entered the shop, carrying mochas and pastries. Marshall lay on the counter beside Rowan who rang up items for a huge line of customers. The red sign announcing the engagement party in big, bold letters was still on the door.
Mallory saw the snowflake clock tied onto Marshall’s green collar.
“Hi, Mall,” Rowan said, leaning up for a kiss.
“The fiancée?” Mrs. Ridgeway asked, smiling. She lived up the street from the Kitterings.
Rowan nodded. “That’s my woman.”
Mallory stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders with the ring on display. He patted her hand.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” she whispered in his ear.
“Same,” he replied.
***
Mallory handed out candy canes and wrapped purchases while Rowan rung them up. She pulled out her smartphone, checking the time. Three forty-eight. Almost closing time. Then she checked Lindsey’s blog.
Every photo of Rowan had been digitally spattered red with blood. Lindsey’s post was short, saying it was her last for a while because she was about to confront her cheating fiancé. The last line read, Merry Christmas.
The door chime jangled. Sheriff Clark walked in wearing jeans and a heavy black sweater. He moved toward Mallory, carrying a brown grocery bag.
“Do you have it?” Mallory asked.
He nodded. “Rick’s right behind me.”
“Look at this,” said Mallory, handing him the phone.
Sheriff Clark stared wide-eyed at the pictures as Rick walked in the door. Rowan rang up the last customer.
“Sheriff, please,” Mallory whispered, her stomach in knots. “Do everything you can to protect him. He means so much to me.”
Sheriff Clark patted the grocery bag. “I’ll stay right with him, Mallory. You have my word.”
He moved over to the counter. “Rowan, a word in back, please.”
Rowan followed the sheriff into the back room as Mallory turned the open sign over and locked the door.
“I’ve got an unmarked car outside, just in case, Mall,” he said.
“Thanks, Rick,” said Mallory.
Christmas Ghosts - Fiction River Page 9