Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge

by Peggy Ann Craig

  Going down to the ward where some of the girls occupied rooms, she wasn't surprised to find no one sleeping. Tension and post-terror were high in the air. When she entered, everyone began talking at once. She discovered some of the girls, including Darcy, had contacted their parents and were going home. It was amazing what a good taste of near-death could do to the psychological way of thinking. For this only, could she see any good coming out of this whole disastrous mess.

  For the remaining girls, Laura put to rest any fears about where they were to live henceforth. She laid any plans aside in regards to herself until she was sure all the girls were taken care of. She doubted she would have trouble finding a bed in one of the many homeless shelters in the city.

  The clock hanging from the hospital wall told her it was near four in the morning, but sleep seemed far from coming. After she left the girls' ward, she walked along the corridors, her feet bringing her to a large window overlooking the glitzy lights of the city beyond. Glittering lights that represented a home, a place of safe haven for the individuals who occupied them.

  Down the hall, turbulence had unexpectedly erupted drawing her from her reflections. Her eyes narrowed to get a better view but unfortunately the corridor snaked to the right and disappeared slightly from view. What she could see of the nurse's station was only a handful of troubled nurse's as they skidded about as if looking for something.

  “What the hell do you mean you don't know where she is? Is she or is she not staying at this hospital?” A booming voice bellowed down the corridor bringing Laura's feet to a complete halt.

  She could hardly believe her ears, but an overwhelming emotion had her gasping for breath and continuing down the corridor, this time at a faster pace.

  “She is staying here, sir. It just seems we have misplaced her.”

  “Misplaced her!” He grew angrier. “How the devil—?”

  Dexter broke off when his eyes caught sight of a little figure coming around the bend. Her skin was deathly white, her eyes wide and bloodshot. But it was the ghastly looking gauge taped across her forehead with red soaked blood stains that had his insides twisting painfully.

  She spoke first. “You came.”

  He knew he should be composing his expression right about now, to display the anger he planned because she had woken him in the middle of the night, driven from one hospital to another searching frantically for her; but it was nowhere to be found. On their own accord, his feet began moving toward her and as if an open invitation she responded. A small cry escaped her mouth before she flung herself into his arms. He felt her touch, felt her trembling and an urgency unfamiliar to him, had him responding. His arms came around and pulled her tightly against his chest reassuring himself she was okay and no longer in any danger.

  Laura at last allowed herself to cry fervently enjoying the unexpected yet rare comfort of Dexter's embrace. It seemed uncouth that there, in his arms; she found safety and sanctuary. Something she believed, only moments before could only be found in a home. All at once, everything seemed to come into perspective and the reality of her feelings were acknowledged. Feelings that existed the moment she turned in her seat that Christmas Eve and stared at him across the room. The same feelings that urged her to pick up the phone and call him tonight.

  However, they were feelings she knew could never be returned and, with a weary heart, she pulled herself from his arms and wiped at the last trace of tears. Dexter pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her, which she uttered a thank you. He didn't respond, simply took her by the arm and propelled her away from the watching eyes of the nurses.

  “Where's your room?” He was back to his old self again, cold and domineering.

  She led the way to the room she occupied solitarily, thinking she was most likely the biggest foolhardy woman on the face of the earth. If Dexter knew her true feelings, he would certainly agree.

  “Gather your clothes and any other personal items you may have, and I'll meet you out in the visitor's lounge in ten minutes.”

  She stopped him as he turned to leave. “What?”

  “Gather your belongings, you're going back to my place tonight.” He sounded slightly irritated.

  “What—I mean—I can't do that.”

  “Why not? Isn't that why you called me?”

  “No.”

  “Then why?”

  “I can’t abandon my girls. I need to wait for the parents who are coming for them and transport the remainder to Saint Anne’s homeless shelter.”

  He stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the hallway's fluorescent lights. She whole-heartedly waited for him to find some excuse to be on his way. Tending to the needs of those girls would not be on his agenda. She sat on the edge of the hospital bed, feeling ghastly and almost wished she could forgo her duties as well and leave with him. So greatly the despair in her heart over the night’s events, all she wanted was to be comforted. But she quickly brushed the selfish thought aside. They had all been through something traumatic and Laura would not put her needs before theirs. She would stay as long as needed at the hospital, until the last girl found proper accommodations.

  He stood silently for so long in the door frame, Laura was certain he was internally chastising her decisions once again. Probably even chiding himself for coming out in the middle of the night on a false alarm. Laura felt horrible. She wasn’t even sure why she called him. She had needed comforting. Desperately. And for whatever reason, Dexter was the person she intuitively sought out.

  “I have room in my back seat for three.”

  Her chin snapped up. “What?”

  He sighed. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Just collect the girls who need to be transported to the shelter. I’ll meet you down in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

  Then he was gone before she had a chance to respond. Not that she was sure she had a response. This was so outside of his character. Not that Laura was complaining. She swiftly scurried off the bed and rushed to the ward where the girls needing to be transported waited. She wanted nothing more than to go with him, but a disturbing thought had her wondering if she was asking for more trouble than she already had.

  * * *

  It was close to seven o’clock in the morning after they had delivered the girls to Saint Anne’s and then returned to the hospital to wait for the parents who were coming to collect their daughters. Laura took the onslaught of many irate parents who felt her inapt as duties of temporary guardian and putting their children at risk. While the other half lavished her with gratitude and praise.

  Utterly drained and tired, she stood alone in Dexter's bedroom. Sighing in exhaustion, she walked over to the large bed where a cheerfully white quilt welcomed her. Dolefully, she sunk on to the only soft thing in the room. Dexter's bleak fashion sense consisted of a black dresser with the simplest blue vase perched on top of it, an oversized two-door chest also in black and a matching night table. A rounded headboard and slate grey splattered walls completed the somber look.

  With the excitement of the evening finally behind her, her mind took the down time to unwilling start to wallow in the memories of the tragic events. Wanting nothing more than to blot out the images of her burning home, she took the large T-shirt Dexter loaned her lying across the bed. She went through a side door that housed an ensuite and gave herself a good cleaning with the soap and towels provided, then slipped into the T-shirt.

  As the soft material slid over her head, she detected Dexter's familiar scent. Clutching it close to her skin, she took a deep breath and inhaled the balmy aroma. She wanted nothing more at the moment than to have him take the place of the shirt and cradle her in his arms. With a desolate sigh she dropped her hands and went back into the bedroom.

  Knowing Dexter, as she came to know him, moments like tonight as he held her in his arms and comforted, would not occur again. His heart was tough and she knew there was no getting through.

  Surprisingly, this time around anyhow, sleep came easily when she placed
her head on the pillows and closed her eyes, all thoughts of the fire, the house, and the man put to rest temporarily.

  * * *

  The following morning, Laura felt uncomfortable rummaging through Dexter's cupboards, but her growling stomach demanded she feed herself. Thankfully, she unearthed a box of cereal almost immediately as well as a bowl and spoon. In the fridge she found a carton of milk and some orange juice.

  She had just seated herself on one of the tall breakfast stools, when a tall dark form came stalking into the kitchen. Looking up surprised, she laid her eyes on Dexter's perturbed glower.

  “Where the devil have you been all day?”

  Startled, she didn't say anything directly but instead shifted self-consciously in her stool, suddenly aware of the shortness of her makeshift nightie.

  Dexter noticed her movement and dropped his eyes aimlessly. The T-shirt she wore, the one he loaned her the night before, revealed far too much skin. She noticed a pulse twitch in his grim jaw as he took in the long expanse of revealing leg stretched from beneath the hem of the shirt down to the floor where her bare feet scarcely touched the polished tiles.

  Feeling uneasy under his scrutiny, she attempted unsuccessfully to pull the hem down lower over her exposed legs. The action seemed to get his attention, because he suddenly jerked his head back up and immediately dropped the shutter over his emotions.

  “Well? Where were you?”

  “Right here.”

  “Then why in blazes didn't you answer the phone?”

  “You phoned?”

  “Yes.” Angrily he stamped further into the kitchen and dropped the bag he held onto the kitchen counter. “Twice. Why didn't you answer?”

  “I was sleeping. I didn't hear the phone.” She absorbed his handsome but angry good looks. “Why did you call?”

  “What do you mean, why did I call'? Why do you think?” He snapped.

  She shook her head.

  He muttered something under his breath as he turned abruptly away.

  “Pardon?”

  He swiveled around once more. Opening his mouth he was about to say something then changed his mind. Instead, he turned to the bag he dropped on the counter. “There’s a change of clothes in the bag. After you're done eating, change and get yourself presentable. I'll take you down to the insurance company.”

  Her eyes drifted to the parcel and noticed the name of the very classy and extravagant ladies department store. “You bought me something?”

  “Well you weren't planning to wear that today, were you?”

  She blushed and self-consciously attempted to pull the hem lower again. “I'll pay you back, as soon as I can.”

  “Whatever.” He shrugged her off, then noticed the bowl in front of her. “Is that going to be enough to eat?”

  “Yes, thank you. I hope you didn't mind me helping myself.”

  “Of course not. I think I could do for a cup of coffee. How about you?” He started back into the kitchen.

  “Yes, please, that would be lovely.”

  Coming around the counter he came to a halt when her exposed legs came into sight once again. “I think I better get you a robe first.”

  He was gone before she could agree. Seconds later he was back and handing her a big heavyweight robe. Thanking him, she proceeded to don the sizes-too-big garment. With an impish grin she began rolling the sleeves and only noticed then the monogrammed initials on the left lapel.

  “DWO. What does the 'W' stand for?”

  Unaware, Dexter's eyes grew forlorn as he turned swiftly aware from her view. “Wallace.”

  “Wasn't that your father's name?”

  “Yes.” It was abrupt and matter-of-fact. In other words, end of discussion.

  But Laura wasn't so easily discouraged. “Were you very close?”

  “Not really.”

  She studied his back since he still had not turned around. “I’m sorry to hear that. I was very close with my father. I wouldn't have traded those years with him for anything.”

  He simply grunted a response.

  “You must miss him still the same. I mean, losing a parent is very difficult especially on a teenager such as you were—”

  “Look, am I somehow inertly encouraging this conversation? Just drop it.” He turned sharply on her.

  “I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was a touchy topic.”

  “It's not touchy.” He snapped. “I simply don't get my thrills off discussing the deceased.”

  “Especially yours.”

  “Don't try your psychoanalysis crap on me. I'm not one of your teenagers.”

  Offended, she was quick to the defense. “I didn't think you were. I thought perhaps you would like to talk about your father.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Denial is a common defense mechanism.”

  “I'm not defending myself from anything.”

  “It helps the heart cope with the loss if it believes it never happened.”

  “Good Lord,” he exclaimed, turning blazing eyes on her, “I’m fully aware my father’s dead!”

  She grimaced at the brusque tone of his voice. “Then you're dealing with a common practice of acknowledging the death but not accepting it. You believe as long as you don't face the reality it will never be able to hurt you.”

  “You've gone too far, lady.”

  “I think you've been holding the pain off for a very long time. Maybe that's why you've become so cold and hard over the years. Another means of a defense mechanism.” Laura found herself unable to stop speaking. Her thoughts were being passed from her brain to her mouth without her consent, but suddenly some things were becoming very clear. They explained a lot and she had a stupendous urge to understand more. “I think maybe you're wrong, you were very close to your father after all.”

  Dexter had gone completely still. His face, an impenetrable stone. At last he pushed himself up from the counter he leaned against and turned away shaking his head. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

  She sighed. She could see here was a very tough surface that needed to be crumbled. The problem was, getting it to bend to begin with.

  * * *

  “If you don't mind, I'd like to see the house.” Laura addressed her statement to Dexter as they pulled onto the main street in Bracebridge.

  They just completed their meeting with the insurance company, which looked hopeful she would receive compensation. Now came the time when she needed to face reality. Something she recommended Dexter ought to be thinking about.

  “If you want.” He shrugged carelessly.

  Glancing over at him, she knew he was still angry with her for what she had said earlier. She almost wished she could take the words back. After all, maybe it was none of her business. Wanting to be a part of his life and actually being considered a part of it, were two separate things.

  On the other hand, she had helped herself to understand his seemingly emotionless and complex personality. Nearly made it possible and surprisingly, acceptable. It helped her to understand how she could come to care for a man such as himself. Yes, maybe she should have kept her thoughts to herself. Sometimes it's hard to accept something about oneself if you can't see what others see.

  “But I warn you, it's not a pretty picture.” He said, interrupting her wayward thoughts. “Though it is salvageable.”

  “You've already gone to see it?”

  He nodded. “On my way home from the office.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at her hands folded on her lap. “Is it bad?”

  He nodded.

  “I can handle it.” She stated with a false sense of bravery. “Take me.”

  His sturdy chin lurched and his eyes met hers, altering the bluish hue to a dark feverish tinge.

  Laura noticed the funny look cross his eyes and frowned. “What?”

  With an effort he swallowed down hard on an emotion he needed desperately to get under control. Was the woman so naive, she honestly didn't see the double meaning
in her words? Lord, they hit him off guard like a cement block. Truth was, he wanted to take her, desperately. But it was emotions like those that were going to get him into trouble.

  “To the house it is then.” He mumbled, not really wanting to take her. He could anticipate her reaction. And realized with a start, he wanted to protect her from it.

  Laura smiled her thanks and turned her attention outside the window. She had come to learn there was no sense in thanking the man. He simply didn't want her thanks nor would he accept it.

  Not long after they exited the downtown core and headed straight for the burnt shelter. Laura hadn't realized just how damaged it was until it came into view.

  With a gasp she closed a hand over her mouth. The sight that welcomed them was dreadful. The complete roof of the home was missing where the attic once was situated. The rest of the home smelled of a foul burnt odor and was still smoldering in black charred remains. The once quant little home now looked forlorn and destitute.

  Dexter watched her expression with pain. He knew he shouldn't have brought her here. Needing to console her, yet not wanting to express too much, he reached over and touched her shoulder.

  It seemed it was all that was required though. She turned to him, tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes large and green. The greenest he had ever seen. He reached up and wiped a tear gently away.

  Finding the courage out of nowhere, Laura took a shuddering breath before opening the car door and getting out. Dexter followed suit. He came around to the passenger side and took her arm in his hand.

  “You don't need to do this.”

  “Yes I do.” She stared despairingly up at the home.

  They followed the walkway up to the house and on to the verandah. The first thing which struck her when she entered the home was the thick heavy smell still lingering in the air and the ugly black residue covering most of the walls and furniture. As they made a quick circuit of the bottom floor, she was surprised to discover most of the furniture was still intact aside from some smoke or water damage.