In summing up this chapter of his story, Chris allowed his voice to drone. One by one the girls dropped off to sleep, until only he and Jayne were left awake in the room.
Even she, he realized when he stopped, had surrendered. Her head rested against the broad wing of the armchair and she snored softly, her mouth open.
Watching her, Chris chuckled. He’d have to remember to warn her, when they slept together, that he snored, too.
JAYNE JERKED AWAKE, gasping for breath. Across the dark library the giant fireplace glowed with orange light. The heat fell far short of where she sat, however, and her fingers and feet were stiff with cold. Even her face felt frozen. When she touched her cheeks, she gathered tears. Her chin dripped with them.
She hadn’t yet taken to carrying her grandmother’s handkerchiefs in her pockets, so she pulled up the hem of her knit shirt to wipe her face and nose. What in the world had she been dreaming? Why would she wake up crying and afraid?
As hard as she tried, she couldn’t recall the dream, or the least suspicion of what had scared her. The blank wall was there, as impenetrable as ever.
She got out of the chair, wincing as her cold feet took her weight. Hobbling to the door, she stopped to count the bodies on the floor and realized one girl was absent. Her heart jumped into her throat, but she choked back the urge to worry. None of them could get into much trouble with three feet of snow outside.
“Make that four,” she commented to herself as she stood once again at the kitchen window. Chris’s prediction of more snow had been quite accurate. Huge flakes were falling through the black night. Tomorrow, all the footprints they’d made would be filled with fresh powder.
“Wonderful.” Jayne sipped from the mug of juice she’d poured for herself. “Just wonderful.”
“Ms. Thomas?” She jumped as a voice spoke from the kitchen doorway. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you.” Neither of them had bothered to carry a flashlight, but Jayne could always distinguish Yolanda’s smoky voice and Louisiana accent.
“That’s okay. I forgot someone else was up.” Jayne went to the counter for a napkin to blot juice from her sweater. “Trouble sleeping?”
“A little. Can I have some milk?”
“Sure.” Jayne poured a glass and they sat down across the table from one another. “What’s bothering you?”
“Besides more snow?”
“You don’t like snow?”
Yolanda shrugged. “I liked it the first day. Now it’s starting to wear on my nerves.”
“I understand. I don’t like snow at all.”
“And now…well, never mind.”
Jayne risked a guess. “The decorations?”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, yes, ma’am. I don’t look forward to having the place all jazzed up.”
“I understood there wouldn’t be any Nativity scenes.”
“I know. But that’s the whole reason for Christmas, right? This baby was born and everybody’s supposed to be joyful…”
Jayne couldn’t see clearly in the darkness, but she could hear the tears in Yolanda’s voice. “Does Christmas make you think of your babies?”
A sob was the only answer. Jayne walked around the table and sat next to the teen, putting her arm around the shaking body and gently pressing the wet face against her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Yolanda gasped, between crying jags.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I killed my babies. How could I do that?”
“You were eleven the first time and thirteen the second. That’s too young to be a mother.” Jayne lightly stroked Yolanda’s soft, short curls. “You couldn’t give either of them the home and family a baby needs.”
“I could’ve let somebody else adopt them.”
She didn’t argue with that conclusion. “You can’t suffer over this forever. You have to forgive yourself.”
“Would they forgive me? My two babies?”
This time, the answer came easily. “Yes, I believe they would.” She shifted to gaze into Yolanda’s face. “What you have to do now is live the rest of your life in a way that shows how much you care. We all make mistakes. Our responsibility is to become better, wiser people because of those mistakes. It’s when we don’t learn and improve that our flaws and errors can be held against us.”
“It’s so hard.”
Jayne nodded. “But you’re strong. You can do anything you set your mind and heart on.”
They sat silent in the dark until Yolanda yawned. “Maybe I can get some sleep now. It’s warmer in there, anyway. I’m freezing to death.”
“Me, too.” They put their mug and glass in the sink and walked together to the library.
The girl turned at the door. “You’re terrific,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss Jayne’s cheek. “Hawkridge and you are the best things that ever happened to me.”
Smiling, Jayne returned the hug. “Go get warm. I’m going to curl up on the couch with my blanket.”
Despite the warmth of the fire and the heavy blanket, oblivion didn’t come as easily as she’d hoped. Her mind seemed to be full of echoes, fragments of voices and noises she didn’t know or understand. When at last she did fall asleep, the echoes followed, chasing her through forests and across snow-covered fields, driving her into freezing cold rivers and down briar-covered hills until at last she ran straight into that familiar blank wall.
The shock jolted her awake. She sat up, eyes wide, heart pounding. Twice more she settled herself into a doze, but the shards of dreams continued to trouble her. Each time, the collision with that wall brought about an abrupt, fearful awakening. Finally, Jayne lay motionless and sleepless on the couch, staring at the dwindling fire and waiting for dawn to arrive.
As a result, she wasn’t in a good mood when the girls awoke a couple of hours later. Irritated by their busy chatter about the decorations they had planned, she said almost nothing during yet another breakfast of cereal and milk.
“You okay, Ms. Thomas?” Monique sat down next to her. “You’re looking a little pale.”
“I’m fine.” She used her willpower to produce a cheerful smile. “I’m just thinking about the first breakfast I’ll make when the electricity comes on again—fried eggs, bacon, grits and biscuits. All piping hot.”
“Sounds good. I’m pretty tired of oatmeal, myself.” Monique let a spoonful of porridge plop back into her bowl. “Speaking of food, I’m in charge of our holiday dinner. What can we cook that’s special? Do we have a turkey? A big, juicy roast? How will we make mashed potatoes without a mixer?”
They finally decided that roast chicken was their best option. Potatoes could be baked on the coals, and Jayne thought she could create a dessert with fruit, instant pudding and whipping cream. After cleaning up the kitchen, the girls went to dress for more outside play. Too weary even to get herself another cup of coffee, Jayne folded her arms on the table and put her head down. If she could just sleep for an hour…
“Is this the indefatigable Tommy Thomas I see before me?” Chris stood at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb. “Every time I look lately, you’re falling asleep.”
“That’s because you aren’t around in the middle of the night, when I can’t sleep at all.” Jayne ran her hands over her hair, hoping it didn’t look too mussed. She hadn’t yet done any real grooming this morning. “Come to think of it, I haven’t had a decent night’s rest since you arrived. I’m beginning to think it’s all your fault.” She got up from the table to refill her coffee. “And don’t call me that.”
“The girls do, when you’re not around.”
“That’s their privilege as students.”
“Then I’ll just call you a grouch.” He advanced to the coffeepot and poured himself a mug. “Looks like the girls are ready to hit the snow.”
“Oh, yes.” She didn’t have to pretend a shiver. “Another wonderful morning spent standing in the cold.”
He
put a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, I think you could use some time to yourself. Why don’t you stay inside for a couple of hours while I watch the girls? I promise I won’t let anything happen to any of them.”
Tears stung her eyes, and she took a quick sip of coffee to hide them. “That’s a very nice suggestion.”
“But?”
“But they are my responsibility. If anything happened and I wasn’t there, the explanations, the repercussions…” She shook her head. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain your presence here, as it is.”
“You were the Good Samaritan who sheltered me after I crashed at your gate. We can’t be blamed that a big blizzard showed up at the same time.”
“And you have been very helpful,” she conceded. “I doubt we’d have kept the fire going so well without you.”
“Gee, I’m so glad to hear that.”
His sarcastic tone turned her to face him. “Why are you upset?”
He gave a sullen, one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t see myself as the Boy Scout type.”
“You’d rather bully me into admitting I’m someone else?”
“You are Juliet.”
“I thought you’d given up on this craziness.”
“I’m waiting for you to recognize the truth.”
They glared at each other while excited voices approached down the hallway.
Jayne snapped free of his gaze at the last possible moment and focused on the students, instead. “You all look ready for a morning of snow angels and sledding.”
Selena took a step forward. “Actually, what we’d really like is to go ahead and start getting stuff from the woods for our decorations. You know—holly and pinecones and branches. Plus, we’re having a Yule tree.” She glanced at Taryn and Beth, on either side of her, for support. “We need to find a good one and we were hoping Mr. Hammond would cut it down for us.”
Chris nodded. “I’ll be glad to help. Let me get my coat and gloves.”
He left the kitchen even as Jayne registered the fact that he hadn’t checked with her for permission before agreeing.
“I’ll get dressed and meet you by the door,” she told the girls. Chris Hammond might think he could handle seven “little” girls by himself, but all he had to work with was a sexy smile and some well-built muscles.
She—Jayne Thomas, holder of a Ph.D. in counseling and social work, with a speciality in adolescent education, licensed in the state as a certified social worker and certified family therapist—was the ultimate authority in this school, the source of discipline and decisions. That was her role in life, her identity, however much Chris Hammond might wish she was someone else.
And however much she might wish he could see her—want her, even love her—as herself.
Chapter Nine
Once outside, the girls decided to start the hunt for their “Yule tree” immediately. Chris walked at the front of the group with the ax he’d found in the tool room over his good shoulder. Jayne brought up the rear of the procession, keeping her distance despite the fact that he didn’t know where he should look for a tree on the vast Hawkridge estate.
Selena trudged beside him. “Ms. Thomas says we should follow the long trail toward Hawk’s Ridge overlook. There will be trees we can choose from there.”
“Sounds good, but for the part where I don’t know the Hawk’s Ridge trail. I haven’t spent much time here at the school.”
“The trail starts at the edge of the forest behind the dormitory.” They plowed through the unmarked snow without talking for a few minutes, working hard as the ground sloped upward in front of them. On a short stretch of even ground, Selena said, “Do you live in Ridgeville, then?”
“Just visiting.”
“For the first time?”
“Uh, no. I’ve been here before.”
The girl smiled. “I thought so.”
He’d given himself away, Chris knew. By tonight, all the girls would understand that the story he was telling them was his own. But would they identify Juliet as Jayne?
“My mother will never believe I’m walking through the woods in the snow, looking for a Christmas tree to cut down.” Selena glanced over her shoulder toward Beth and Taryn. “I mean, Yule tree.”
“Right. Where are you from?”
“Los Angeles.”
“Yeah, I guess they don’t get too many white Yules.”
“Nope. It’s usually sunny and eighty degrees in December.”
“This will be something to remember when you go back.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “I can’t go back to L.A., or even California.”
“Why not?”
There was another long pause as they waited for the rest of the crowd to catch up with them at the head of the trail. Selena focused on brushing snow from a nearby pine branch. “I was involved with…a gang. My boyfriend…he said the only way I could leave him would be to die.”
“That’s a tough choice.”
“I didn’t make it.” She glanced at him, and her dark eyes flashed. “My mother had me abducted and brought here. I tried to run away three times that first month.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Three years. Since seventh grade.”
“You changed your mind about the gang.”
She nodded. “Tommy helped me. Along with the other teachers and the counselors and the friends I made. Hawkridge is a good place.”
“Looks like.” The other girls filtered past them and Selena joined the hunt for the perfect tree. Chris didn’t wait for Jayne to catch up with him, but walked on slowly by himself, enjoying the contrast of sunlight and shadows, bare trunks and pine needles against a dropcloth of snow. Again, he wished he had his camera.
“You must wish you had your camera,” Jayne echoed, coming to stand beside him. “This is supposed to be one of the most beautiful parts of Hawkridge.”
“Supposed to be?”
She folded her arms, gripping her elbows with her hands. “I don’t spend much time here—I’m not very comfortable in the woods. I like the open lawns much better, especially in the snow.”
“You have your fair share of quirks, don’t you?”
She lifted her chin. “No more than anyone else.”
He dismissed her defensive answer with a wave of his hand. “Especially for someone who works with troubled girls, trying to help them adjust.”
Her fists clenched and she let her arms fall to her sides. “Are you implying that I’m unfit to take care of the students?”
“Not at all.” A call from farther along the path summoned them to the “perfect” tree. “Everybody has problems. I think you ignore yours.” Without waiting for a response, he walked toward the cluster of girls.
“It’s The Tree,” Haley announced as he reached them. “We all agree.” They’d used their hands to pull the snow away from its base, revealing the trunk.
Chris tilted his head. “Well, it’s not too tall, but tall enough.” Seven nods ratified his judgment. “A little too thin, do you think?”
The girls disagreed. “It’s slender.”
“Graceful.”
“Elegant.”
“Spiritual.”
He held up a hand. “Got it. Well, if this is your choice, then I’ll start chopping. Everybody step ten paces backward without bumping into anything.”
When the girls were at a safe distance, Chris grasped the ax handle, then brought the heavy head back to his shoulder. He took a breath, lifted his elbows and rotated his hips as he started the arc of the cut. The blade swung within an inch of his cheekbone, taking on a momentum of its own.
A voice cried, “No! Wait!”
Chris couldn’t stop the swing. But he managed to bury the blade in the snow and dirt in front of the tree, slicing off a few branch tips in the process. And not, luckily, his toes.
He rounded on the girls. “Who the hell yelled at me? Are you crazy?”
Jayne stepped in front of him, blocking his
view of the guilty party. “Never use that tone with my students. Do you understand?”
He’d meant to apologize. Instead, he glared back at her. “A trick like that could have cost me a leg.”
“It wasn’t a trick.”
“Just a damn stupid thing to do.”
“Watch your language.”
“I’ll say what I please.”
Sarah’s soft voice entered the tense silence. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hammond. I thought we should ask Ms. Thomas if this tree would be okay. Before you cut it down.”
As his heart rate slowed, his temper cooled. He took a step backward, physically and mentally. “And I’m sorry I yelled, Sarah. But for a second there, I saw my toes hopping off in all different directions.”
Jayne blew out a short breath that sounded like a snort. “Excellent. Everyone has apologized. And that tree is fine. Now, the rest of you can go off in twos or threes to gather whatever else you want. I brought along clippers and plastic bags. Let’s leave Mr. Hammond…to his chopping.” She said his name in a crisp tone.
The crowd dispersed, with Jayne following. Chris cut down the tree with a few strategic blows and pulled it trunk first to the trail for the hike back. From his slight uphill position he could see three groups of girls in bright-colored coats inspecting holly trees, cedars and pines for the greenery they wanted. The one person he couldn’t see was their fearless—or not so fearless but certainly gutsy—leader.
“Look, mistletoe!”
He glanced over to where Haley pointed up into the bare branches above their heads. No one would be able to climb that high. When he reached them, he said so.
“I like climbing tress,” Haley insisted. “I could do it.”
“With a sprained wrist?” Chris nodded at the sling she’d been taking advantage of to get out of chores.
“Well…” He could see her thinking quickly. “I guess not.” She gasped and looked at Chris. “You can climb trees, can’t you?”
“Not that high.”
Taryn took up her friend’s cause. “Oh, please. Mistletoe is so important to us pagans!”
Frowning, he shook his head. “Find some closer to the ground.” Then he went back to the trail to find Jayne.
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