Serendipity

by Fern Michaels

  “All right,” she said, relenting. “Come in and sit by the fire. I’ll get you some brandy. You owe me your life, Ross Landers,” she grumbled. “But I don’t want to hear another peep out of you for the rest of the night.”

  “Fine,” he said as he settled in front of the fire. “But first let me say you need more logs. Your dogs pooped and the smell is making me sick. Aren’t you going to clean it up?”

  “You got them excited, you clean it up. You want more logs, you go out and get them. I’ll get the brandy because I said I would. That’s it, take it or leave it.”

  Jory watched him as he shuffled to the kitchen. He returned with two huge logs. He was shaking, his face pasty white. He was heading for the bathroom for the toilet tissue when she checked the thermometer on the back porch. Nine degrees. He’d been outside for fifteen minutes in nine-degree weather. Dressed warmly, she told herself. With aspirin from the pantry, she made her way into the living room. “Take these,” she said, handing over the aspirin and brandy. “Lie in front of the fire. I’ll put the screen up. You can move back after you get warm. You don’t look well, Ross,” she said coldly.

  “I’ve been fighting off a cold for the past few days.” His hand was shaking so badly when he brought the brandy snifter to his lips, Jory had to reach out and steady it. “I hope you feel like shit, Jory. What are you going to do if I die?”

  “Bury you and collect your insurance. Go to sleep. You’ll be fine by morning. I’ll watch over you.”

  After a while he said, softly, “I really do think I’m falling in love with you, Jory.”

  “It won’t work, Ross,” she replied, just as softly. “We’re two different people.”

  “Right, you’re a girl and I’m a boy. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.” An instant later he was sound asleep.

  Jory sat on the sofa and cried. Too much, too little, too late.

  The night was long and bitterly cold outside the perimeter of the sofa and fireplace. Wide-awake, Jory watched over the fire and her sleeping husband. She knew he had a high fever by the way he stirred restlessly in his sleep, his arms flailing the wood-scented air. She got up three different times to draw the heavy blankets up to his chin. His forehead felt hot and dry. She worried.

  Propped up in the corner of the sofa in her cocoon, Jory stared down at her husband. How boyish he looked, how vulnerable. She loved the way his unruly, dark hair curled around his head. It wasn’t fair, she thought sadly, that a man should have such beautiful curly hair and sinfully long eyelashes. Curly hair and feathery lashes were meant for girls. Ross never seemed to realize how handsome he was, that much she did remember. When she first met him, she’d gushed and practically swooned at his good looks. She’d been dumb enough to say so, and he’d been embarrassed.

  Jory’s gaze moved to the fire. She groaned. She had to go out to the porch for another log, maybe two. The fire was low and would be nothing but smoldering embers in another thirty minutes. It was only three o’clock. She thought about throwing the dining room chairs into the fireplace, but negated the idea. If she burned the chairs, she wouldn’t be able to have her Christmas dinner in the dining room.

  The logs were heavy, necessitating two trips. She was blue with cold when she returned to the living room. She couldn’t ever remember the temperature being minus two degrees. Would the pipes freeze and rupture? How did one unfreeze frozen pipes? She had no idea. A log caught fire, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.

  Jory eyed the aspirin bottle on the mantel. Should she wake Ross and give him some, or was sleep the best thing? She didn’t know that either. She went back to her cocoon and snuggled deeper into the corner of the sofa, where she dozed fitfully.

  At six o’clock Jory bolted from the warmth of the blankets when a sharp knock sounded on the front door. Pete must have made it home. She raced to the door to see a young man clad in a heavy lumberman’s jacket, fur cap, and thick woolen gloves. “Yes?”

  “Ma’am, would you like your driveway plowed? It’s ten dollars, fifteen if you want me to go all the way to the carriage house.”

  “Uh, yes, of course. There’s a car in the driveway, though. I’ll pay you extra if you shovel it out and put chains on it. They’re in a box inside the garage.”

  “Twenty, and you have a deal,” the young man countered.

  “How bad are the roads?” Jory asked fearfully.

  “I never seen a storm this bad. The city plows are out. The plow is over on Evergreen Avenue. It should be on Gravers Lane soon enough. Don’t go out unless you have to, that’s my advice.”

  At seven-thirty all Jory could see from the kitchen window were mountains of snow. The young man had done a good job with Ross’s car. It looked ready to go, and Ross had slept through the whole thing. The indoor thermometer said it was twenty-three degrees in the kitchen.

  Shivering and shaking, Jory poured the water from the teakettle into the saucepan and added coffee grounds. Boiled coffee was better than nothing. Breakfast would be the leftover stew. She stuck a loaf of Strohman’s bread under her arm. It felt cold and hard.

  Ross stirred and woke when she set the blackened cookie sheet on the log, along with the stew pot and saucepan. “How do you feel?” she asked. She stood up to reach for the aspirin bottle.

  “Like hell. Did I sleep through the night?” he asked in a deep, hoarse voice.

  “You were restless, but you slept.” She handed him three aspirin. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Do you think you can eat?”

  He nodded. “Did the power come on?” He answered his own question when he looked at the pot on the cookie sheet. “How much snow did we get?”

  “Well over a foot, and it’s still snowing, but tapering off.”

  “Jesus, how the hell am I going to get out of here?” Ross asked, falling back onto the heavy blankets.

  “I shoveled you out,” Jory lied with a straight face. “The chains are on your car. I think I hear the plow now. If you’re up to it, you can leave, providing you drive carefully. I expect you to return my chains.”

  “You did what?”

  “You heard me. Take a look.”

  Ross tottered to the window in his stocking feet. “You couldn’t possibly do all that,” he croaked.

  “Do you think some fairy came and did it while we slept? I spent the night out there shoveling so you can be on your way.” Jory bent down to check on the boiling coffee so Ross wouldn’t see the smile on her face.

  “You really must hate me,” Ross muttered.

  “No, I don’t hate you. You don’t belong here, Ross. It’s that simple.”

  “I could if you’d let me. Did Woo make it home?”

  “Let’s not go through that again. Pete didn’t get home. The phones are still out, and God only knows when the power will come back on. There’s probably power in town. If you stay here, you could get sicker. The best place for you is home in your own bed, and you should stop at the doctor’s on your way home. Aspirin doesn’t seem to be bringing down your fever. You need to drink a lot of fluids too. Unfortunately, I have no juice, and we used all the milk yesterday for cocoa.”

  “What about you? Maybe you should come back with me.”

  Jory snorted. “Look at me, Ross, do I look like I need you to take care of me? I’ll be fine. I have plenty of food, and there’s a lot of dry wood in the garage. I’ll bring it in later. I come from hearty Irish peasant stock. All that shoveling should prove something. Eat!” she commanded.

  “I see that. Do me a favor, Jory.”

  “If I can.”

  “Don’t get so self-sufficient you turn out like my mother. You don’t do much for a guy’s ego, I can tell you that.” He pushed his plate away. The dogs pounced on it immediately.

  “That will never happen. Do you think your car will start?”

  “All right, Jory, I’m going. Jesus, you’d think I was going to attack you or something. I’m sick, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I noticed. I se
em to remember a time when I thought I was dying and I couldn’t see your dust. I lost a baby. I didn’t see you for five days. Your little head cold is your problem. The way I see it, I did a lot more for you than you ever did for me. I hope your car heater is working.”

  “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”

  “I already forgave you. I just can’t forget it. There’s a difference. At the risk of repeating myself, you came here, you sought me out. You asked and I granted. Beyond that, Ross, I owe you nothing. Nada. I’ll get you a lap robe and another sweater. And to show you what a good sport I am, I’m going to start up your car. I want to know in my heart that when you leave here, you’re leaving as well as can be expected under the circumstances.”

  At that precise moment the power came on. The tree lights sparkled. Jory clapped her hands. The dogs barked and then growled. Ross said, “Jesus, it’s magnificent.”

  “You did a wonderful job stringing the lights. It looks perfect.” A moment later the lights overhead flickered once, then once again, before the power went off completely.

  “I bet that’s some kind of omen,” Ross said, getting to his feet. Jory wondered if he was right. “I’m sorry about the stew, but it hurts to swallow.”

  Jory had her boots on and was buttoning her jacket when Ross reached for her. “I’m sorry about everything. I came here and invaded your privacy. That wasn’t my intention. You’ve been very kind to me, kinder than I deserve. I’m not going to bother you anymore. I just want you to know that I enjoyed last evening. Up until the part where you kicked me out. You misunderstood, but that’s okay. In your place I probably would have done the same thing. I know you watched over me during the night. I felt you when you touched my head and brushed back my hair. I knew when you covered me. That’s how I know you didn’t shovel the goddamn snow! If there was ever a time to kiss someone, this is it, but because I’m a nice person I won’t do it. I don’t want you to get sick.” He brought her close to him, so close he could smell the scent of her hair. It felt soft, the way his silk pajamas felt when he crunched them up in a ball. He felt like bawling. He pushed her away to head for the bathroom.

  Jory did cry then, wet weepy tears of unhappiness. In a voice the dogs had never heard before, she ordered them to sit before she stormed outside, Ross’s keys in her hand.

  The frigid air smacked her in the face. She brought her mittened hand to her mouth as the cold attacked her layers of clothing. Attacked and won. She shivered violently as she crunched her way to Ross’s car. Surprisingly, the door opened, and what was more surprising, the engine turned over on the third try. She waited a full five minutes with her foot on the gas pedal to make sure the car wouldn’t stall. She turned the heater high. It would take at least twenty minutes for the car to warm up.

  On legs that were so stiff they felt brittle, Jory started back to the house. In her life she’d never been this cold, this numb. It was still snowing lightly. Her world was winter-white and blindingly beautiful. She tried to walk faster in the crunching snow. She slipped twice. Nature’s artwork would be more appreciated from a window.

  Jory hunkered down by the fire. “Have some coffee, Ross. It’s going to take a while for the car to warm up. It started on the third try. I know there’s probably a window scraper somewhere in the garage, but it’s too cold to look. I think the heater will melt the ice on the windshield. You’ll have to use the side mirror instead of the rearview one. The ice is thick on the back window. Maybe you shouldn’t go, Ross. It’s bitter out there.”

  “I think you’re right about this cold. I should see a doctor because my chest feels congested.” The worry and concern on her face pleased him. He sipped at the coffee.

  “Your cheeks are rosy,” he blurted out. “You’re very beautiful, Jory.” He sipped again at the coffee.

  “Thank you,” Jory mumbled over the rim of her coffee cup. Why couldn’t he have said that five years ago? Maybe she wasn’t beautiful five years ago. She wasn’t sure she was beautiful now either. “How will I know if you made it home safely? I’m going to worry. Damn this storm.”

  “I’ll be okay. I filled the gas tank yesterday. I’ll be on a main road. Relax, Jory, and enjoy that lovely Christmas tree.”

  “It is beautiful, isn’t it? We did a super job decorating it. Thanks for helping. I think your wreath is better than mine.”

  Ross’s chest puffed out. “For a first-time effort it’s okay. You won’t throw it away, will you?” he asked anxiously.

  “Of course not. I’m the sentimental type. Every year I’ll pull it out and think about last night. Together we have at least one nice memory.” Damn, she was going to cry if she didn’t get hold of herself. “If you get too warm in the car with the heater, open your coat, but don’t take it off. Crack the window just a smidge. Drive in low gear,” Jory said quietly.

  Ross tied a thick woolen muffler around his neck. “Yes, Auntie Ann.”

  “Ross, that has to be our secret. Please promise you won’t tell anyone. I really need this job, and if anyone finds out who I am, they won’t take me seriously. You spied on me. That isn’t nice.”

  “Jory, your secret’s safe with me. Don’t give it another thought. I’m hurt you would think I’d give it away. It’s no one’s business but yours. Well, I’m ready.”

  “Drive carefully, Ross, and make sure you go to the doctor.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He was stunned when Jory wrapped her arms around him.

  “ ’Bye, Ross, and Merry Christmas.”

  He didn’t know how to respond, so he just nodded. He knew she was watching him from the window, the dogs at her feet. He ached to be back inside, to belong, to be a part of Jory’s new life. He must really be getting sick, he thought, because his eyes were burning and tearing like hell.

  Jory watched the Buick’s progress until the car was out of sight. She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. Too much, too little, too late.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Woo paced the length of Ross Launders’s huge living room. His hair was on end, his tie jerked loose from his big neck, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow. Every five minutes he parted the brocade draperies to stare outside, hoping for some sign of Ross. Where in the hell was he?

  He wasn’t a worrier, never had been. He took each day as it came and hoped for the best. Often he wondered if he was a fatalist. What it came down to, he thought, was you did your best, and if that wasn’t good enough, then it was the other guy’s problem. For most of his life his philosophy had worked fine. Until now. Now he was worried right down to the core of his gut.

  He’d been up all night watching the storm from the wraparound windows in the sun room and answering Ross’s phone. Four calls from Justine Landers, the last just short of hysterical. “Tell Ross to call me the minute he gets home, regardless of the time.” He’d written down the message verbatim. Jasper Landers had called three times, but only said Ross was to call him. Nothing earth-shattering there. Lena had called twice and said the last time she’d seen Ross was before lunch and that he’d canceled their date, saying he was having dinner with his father. Jasper in turn said Ross never showed up and hadn’t called. Ross hadn’t gone to the warehouse and never returned to the office, according to Justine, who could only say his briefcase was gone and his car was not in the parking lot.

  Woo fired up a cigarette he didn’t want. He was on his tenth cup of coffee. Even his teeth were standing at attention.

  Ross had to be at Jory’s. It wasn’t like him not to leave a message or a note saying where he could be reached. So he must have gone to Chestnut Hill with the intention of returning, and got caught in the storm and stayed over. He thought about the bald tires on the Buick. He thought about Ross and Jory alone in the house with the dogs. A wicked smile stretched across his face when he thought about the four-legged creatures that were Jory’s roommates. They were fun, they made him laugh. But the thought of Ross frolicking with them on the floor wiped the smile from his face. It bot
hered him that Ross might be there at all. Maybe he had slept in the carriage house. Woo immediately negated the idea. Ross wasn’t exactly a whiz when it came to making fires, unless it was a gas fire. Lack of central heat would definitely be a problem for his friend, one Jory would rectify by allowing him to stay in the house if the roads were impassable.

  He’d tried to call all night long, but was told by the operator the telephone lines were down and she didn’t know when they’d be back in service.

  Woo had looked forward to last night for days. He and Jory were going to trim the huge Frazier fir and have dinner together. When she issued the invitation, he thought he was the luckiest stiff alive. They were good friends these days, and he still wasn’t sure how it all came about. Secretly he thought it was because the dogs liked him. He’d kept his word and hadn’t infringed on her privacy, and when they did talk, he never spoke of Ross. Maybe it was the pumpkin he brought back from Lancaster, which they’d cut out together and put on the stoop by the red door. Maybe it was a lot of things. Maybe she just liked him because he was a good person, a nice person. Maybe.

  Tomorrow was the day. The day Jory’s marriage would be dissolved. He was going to ask her for a real date then, movies and dinner at Dominic’s. Maybe she’d accept and maybe she wouldn’t. His life seemed to be made up of maybes these days.

  Jory and Ross together in her house with the dogs. A blazing fire, some wine, dinner in front of the fire. If he’d been able to get back to the Chestnut Hill house, Woo thought, he would have been the one in front of the fire. He might even have kissed her, but he doubted that. He wouldn’t do anything, say anything, until her divorce was final.

  Woo sat down with a thump. He should be using this time to go over the final details of the case he was working on. He was going to win this one; he could feel it. He’d prepared an airtight case, and even gone over it with Ross several times. It involved two chop shops where cars were dismantled and reassembled and then shipped out of the country. He’d make headlines with this case, but that wasn’t important to him; nailing the guys and presenting a good case was important. It had been dumped on him at the eleventh hour, when the ADA originally assigned the case went on leave with a case of bleeding ulcers. With a caseload heavy enough to break his back, Woo had taken on the extra work, staying all night at the office at least two nights a week. He was never going to be able to thank Jory enough for putting in a good word with her father’s colleagues in the D.A.’s office.