by Jillian Hart
Fine. She was on her own for awhile. She wrapped her arms around herself. All around her were windows. Tiny flakes winged to earth like poetry, and she let the serenity of the landscape, of the meter of the snowfall and the sweeping grace of the mantled fir trees lull her. But as beautiful as it was, it wasn’t enough to draw her away from the cold pit of pain dark and deep within her.
Spence had done that, stirred her up with his callous words. The man you didn’t marry, what was wrong with him?
No, Spence hadn’t meant to harm her, she realized; he had meant to drive her away with a harmless insult. He couldn’t know what she had lost. The ache sharpened, the one in her soul she tried to silence, and most days she was fairly successful.
But today she heard that ache like wind through the trees. She padded to her bedroom and pulled open the bottom chest drawer. In the back tucked away, with other remembrances of dear moments of her life, was the picture still in its frame.
She brushed her fingertips across the smooth glass. Time had forever frozen the image of a much younger her, when she kept her hair long and when love used to light her up like midsummer. Her soul ached seeing the little boy with tousled black hair and big chocolate eyes, just like the man also in the picture. Their dear faces, one strong with character and heart, the other, sweet with a child’s innocence, made her vision blur.
There were some things prayer couldn’t fix. The sharp ache of loss that followed grieving and acceptance was one. Time could not heal it, only dull it. Some losses stuck with you forever, and you were never whole again.
It was dark by the time he had dug out the apple-green car enough to get the driver’s side door open. Snow had drifted against the car, so he’d had to shovel that away too and his frostbitten hands felt numb, thick and useless as he fought the door handle.
Lucy. He had done his best to avoid her the rest of the time at Katherine’s. It hadn’t been easy. His gaze had continued to malfunction, automatically finding her whenever she was in his visual field. The buzz that filled his brain when he spoke to her had become permanent. He could remember how delicate her hand had felt in his. If only he could forget.
He dropped into the driver’s seat and yanked off his glove. His right hand was red from cold and numb enough that it took three tries to get the key Katherine had procured for him into the ignition. The engine turned over, the heater blasted on and an upbeat song blared through the speakers. He hit that off, turned the heater to defrost and hit the headlights.
If he had been trying to get Lucy out of his head and out of his life, he had failed. Her car smelled like her—like lilacs and sunshine and sugar cookies. A tiny crystal angel hung from the rearview mirror, swinging on a length of apple-green yarn. A pile of paperbacks was strewn haphazardly over the front passenger’s floor, and a pile of notes written on flowery note paper littered the front passenger seat. The top note said—not that he was snooping, but his eyes happened to notice—idea for next story: a bookstore? Or a coffee shop. Check out Ava’s bakery for research.
That explained the sugar cookie smell. He noticed a small bakery box in the backseat—sugar cookies from Ava’s shop.
He scowled and searched the dash for the rear-window defroster switch. It was self-defense that had him gathering up criticism at her car—further evidence why he should not be interested in sunny, gentle-hearted Lucy. She left her books on the floor. That was no place for a book! Look at the paper she wasted and tossed around and left in a heap, besides lacking the basic common sense not to park on the street when the snowplow would be coming by.
None of it worked—mostly because his heart wasn’t in it. All he could see was the image of her standing at the sink, rinsing plates and bowls, glasses and silverware with her left hand, waving away every offer to take over. She had washed the hand washables, wiped down the counters and helped Dorrie fill bags of leftovers for everyone to take home. If he had dared to get close enough to her, he would have witnessed the lingering sadness in her jeweled eyes.
He couldn’t forgive himself for that. He laid his forehead on the top round of the steering wheel, hating what he had done. He had grown hard-hearted. Lord help him, because he didn’t know what to do about it.
“Spence?” A familiar voice called out. Boots crunched through the snow.
“Caleb.” He was glad to see his brother-in-law. Caleb, a city cop, was suited up in his uniform and cold weather gear. Spence angled out of the little car and grabbed the ice scraper from the roof, where he’d left it. “Good to see you hard at work. Too bad you left before dessert.”
“Dorrie promised she would send a few pieces of pie and chocolate cake home with Lauren.” Caleb had a quiet, confident air about him. He made a good match for Lauren. “This isn’t your car. Wait—it’s Lucy’s. She was talking about being plowed under.”
Great. Spence grimaced and put a cold frown on his face. Best that Caleb didn’t guess as to the real reason he was out here on a holiday in subzero temperatures scraping the packed ice and snow off of a woman’s windshield. “Thought I would nip the problem in the bud.”
“The problem? You mean Lucy is a problem?”
“You know she is. You saw what went on.” Spence put some muscle into it, and all he could do was get the smallest chip in the inch-thick ice. “You didn’t help matters at dinner. You could have spoken up and saved me from the marriage-crazed women at the table.”
“Hey, I figured the least said the better.” Caleb held up his gloved hands as a show of innocence.
“I could have used some support. We men have to stick together.” He gave the ice another swipe of the scraper. Nothing. “Dorrie practically has me married off to her.”
“Marriage isn’t so bad, once you get used to the misery.”
“Funny.” He wasn’t in the mood for humor. In fact, he was starting to be opposed to humor of any kind.
“In fact, you sort of become tolerant to it. It’s not so bad after a while.”
Was everyone in his family a comedian? He began beating at the ice with the scraper. Tiny flecks sprayed off. At least he was making some progress. “When do you get off your shift?”
“Late evening.”
“Then you can make yourself useful.” Spence did his best not to grin. He knew he could count on Caleb to help out, but for some reason it was easier for him to demand it instead of ask for it. “I need you to come out with me and drop off this poor excuse for a car so I have a ride back.”
“Sure. This is an excuse to see her, isn’t it?” Caleb placed his hands on his hips, looking authoritative, as if he had everything figured out.
Hardly. Spence growled as the ice began to crack away. Victory. “Lucy Chapin is a nightmare. She’s not the kind of woman I would pick—if I ever decide to marry and be miserable like the rest of you.”
“I don’t know. A guy who looks the way you do can’t be too picky. Seems to me Lucy is out of your league.”
“Thank you. Of course she is. She’s too good for me.” Finally some common sense. “I’ve been waiting for everyone else to notice that, but they are blinded by the thought of another wedding. What is it with women and weddings?”
“No idea, but after having one of my own, it was nice.”
“So close. For a minute there, I thought we were on the same page, Caleb.”
“Marriage isn’t so miserable.”
“Sure it is.” And if his dad was happy in his second marriage and if his brothers-in-law were always grinning, then he didn’t have to put that into the equation. “I’ll be at the bookstore. Swing by when your shift is done.”
“Working late?”
“Tomorrow’s a big shopping day. We open at seven.”
Caleb trudged through the snow to his cruiser parked on the other side of the street. Spence shook his head, sweeping the last of the ice flecks from the glass. He must really have been lost in thought not to notice his brother-in-law drive up. It just showed how much this thing with Lucy bothered him.
You don’t have that crush on her any longer. He took up the shovel and dug into the snow in front of the low-slung VW. Every strike of his shovel into the hardpacked snow was a reminder he was only fooling himself. He wouldn’t be out here frozen to the bone and so cold he could no longer feel half of his face for any other reason.
Maybe he was sweet on her, but he wasn’t going to let a woman like Lucy get anywhere close to him. He would not be lulled by the sadness he’d seen in her eyes or by the bite of his conscience.
Once he’d cleared a path in the snow, he tossed the shovel in the back of his truck and folded his big frame into her little front seat. He shut the door, and everything Lucy surrounded him—her sweetness, her sunshine, her memories. His chest tightened, but it wasn’t the feel of his heart longing.
No, it couldn’t be. He had grown too hard for that. A heart made of stone could not love. It was as simple as that. He put her car in gear and guided it out onto the street, closing down every thought of her. Every feeling.
It was the smart thing to do.
With her laptop on the coffee table plugged in to the Internet and the TV blaring the dialogue of a romantic comedy, she shoved the dessert plate away. That chocolate cream pie was heavenly, but her waistline was not going to thank her tomorrow.
She took a sip of tea and frowned at the screen. She had e-mail waiting from friends she had left behind in Portland. She knew every one of them was going to ask why she didn’t come visit for Thanksgiving.
She thought of Jim and his son, and it was like jumping off the edge of the earth. It was easier to be here, where there were no memories of happier times and of sadder ones. It was why she was putting off reading her e-mail.
“Rrowr.” Bean nosed in and stood awaiting attention.
“Oh, so now you’re talking to me.” Lucy obliged by running her fingers through the soft long hair. “I’m sorry I left you.”
The cat slitted her eyes and hopped away to the window seat. The blinds were drawn, but a sudden ray of light glanced between the slats. Strange. Nobody ventured down her driveway, especially in this weather. She would have dismissed it as the neighbor kid, whom she paid to plow her driveway, but he had already come and gone. She set her cup on the coffee table, uncurled her legs and crossed the room.
She lifted a slat and peered through the blinds. It was dark out and a truck’s headlights sliced through the inky blackness with eye-hurting brightness. A door slammed shut, drawing her attention toward the garage. She recognized the curved hump of her car, dark as the night, and a tall, broad-shouldered form hiking away from it.
Spence McKaslin. Her pulse skipped five beats. Shock drew all the air from her lungs. Rooted to the floor, she couldn’t move as he swung up into the passenger seat. For a moment, the overhead dome light haloed him. She could see the cut of his high cheekbones, blade-straight nose and the snow dusting his dark hair.
He really was a handsome man with classic rugged good looks combined with a masculine strength of character that gave him a hero quality. Her soul sighed against her will. She thought of what Dorrie had said, how he pushed women away on purpose. She was deeply sad that his ploy had worked.
She should let go of the blind slat and step away from the window, but some unknown force held her in place. It wasn’t curiosity. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she watched as the passenger door swung shut. The dome light illuminated him as he reached for his seat belt, turning toward the house and toward her.
Their gazes met. Her blood pressure fell, pooling in her toes. She saw the bleakness in his blue eyes and in his heart. The passenger light blinked out, and he was gone from her sight.
She stepped away from the window, and the blind slat remained, stuck in place like a peephole. The truck turned around and lumbered off, the taillights brilliant pinpricks of diminishing light. They grew smaller and smaller until the night swallowed them, and she was alone again.
Chapter Seven
“I need to talk to you.”
Spence snapped his briefcase shut and scowled at his sister standing in his office doorway. Danielle had been especially perky all morning long. While he was glad she was happy, he wasn’t sure he approved of happiness—or at least not when there was work to be done. The Christmas shopping season was in full swing, and they were busy.
“I have no time. You’ll have to talk with me on the way to the church,” he said and grabbed his winter coat. “If you need to hire more help, then handle it. I have a folder of applicants in my top left desk drawer.”
“Excellent. I have been hounding you for the last two weeks, you know.”
Yeah, he knew. He was tired of hearing it. She had worn him down. “We have a bottom line, don’t you forget it.”
“Impossible with you here to remind me, brother dear.” She smiled sweetly. Wearing Christmas colors of red and green, she was positively glowing. He had never seen her look better.
“I’m glad to see you’re happy again, Dani. It’s been a long haul for you and Jonas.”
“Our lives are almost back to normal. We’ll hear on his job situation late next week sometime.” Danielle was always going to be the eleven-year-old sister he remembered with light brown curls and a quiet smile, regardless of how the years passed. When Dad had married her mom, life had changed for the better in the McKaslin household. Of all his sisters, Danielle was the most sensible—not that he was sentimental or anything. To prove it, he scowled. She was blocking the doorway. “Just don’t go walking off the job and leaving me high and dry without a manager, you hear?”
Her hand landed on his wrist, stopping him from trying to shoulder around her. “I would never do that to you, Spence. You know that.”
He did. “Are you ready? You don’t have your coat.”
“I told you we need to talk before you go.”
“We’re going to be late to the meeting. The committee head has to attend. You have less than three weeks before Christmas.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.” Danielle looked apologetic.
Uh-oh. “You’re going to bail on the committee, aren’t you?”
“I’ve already spoken to my second-in-command, and she is going to sit in for me this morning. She has all the notes.”
“You can just stand there smiling like this is great news. Why are you bailing on me?”
“I need to take it easier these days.” She gazed up at him expectantly, and there was quiet joy on her face.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” He frowned harder. He loved being an uncle, so this was good news. But as the manager of the bookstore, he was losing yet another assistant manager to motherhood. “Who am I going to get to replace you? I’ve run out of sisters. Not that a one of you is useful, getting married and leaving me with a store to run and no one to help.”
Tears sparkled in Danielle’s eyes as she went up on tiptoe, understanding perfectly what he could not say. What he could never say. His chest felt battered by a hurricane, but he made sure he couldn’t feel a single lick of emotion.
“I love you too, Spence.” She kissed his cheek, squeezed his wrist and walked away.
Sisters. He swallowed hard and closed the door behind him. He didn’t know what he was going to do without them. They were all married, becoming mothers; they didn’t need him anymore. He was in an especially fierce mood as he headed around the front counter and across the floor, briefcase in hand.
He had nothing but more problems. Before it was employee staffing deficits, and now he had to find someone to fill in her place at the committee. With any luck, whoever was second-in-command could step up and fill Danielle’s shoes. He certainly wouldn’t do it. He was strictly managerial.
He pushed through the door and into the bitter wind. The snow had hung around, but the sun was beatin
g down with blinding brightness. An apple-green Beetle crept through the parking lot. He froze, panicked. Lucy.
Mercifully the car kept on going. He got a glimpse of the driver as it passed by—a brunette. It wasn’t Lucy. There was a MSU bumper sticker, so he knew it wasn’t even her car. He was safe. Whew. His knees were watery as he walked to his truck and unlocked it. There was no sense trying to purge her from his thoughts. He had been trying since Thanksgiving, but it was impossible.
He climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. All he could think about and all he could see was Lucy standing at her window, peering at him between the blind slats. Her big, soulful green eyes had watched him with a look he could not name, but it was one his heart felt.
One his heart still felt. All his defenses were like ice cracking away. He didn’t know why he hurt so much. Maybe it was from a lifetime of not letting himself feel a thing. Perhaps, too, it was something more. It was that he wished things could be different. He wished he could take back what he had said to her. He wished he could have held her hand a little longer.
It was a good thing none of his family knew that little tidbit. He wheeled out of the parking lot, turning his thoughts to Danielle—good for her. She and Jonas had wanted another child. Katherine was due in a few weeks. The twins were both due in the spring. Life was changing for the better. So why did he feel stuck in place? Left out?
It made no sense. He didn’t want to get married—end of story. He could never trust a woman that much.
The minute he pulled into the Gray Stone Church’s parking lot, Spence knew something was wrong. But what? He whipped into a parking space by the church’s annex door and grabbed his briefcase. The feeling that something was wrong remained as he launched out of the truck and into the airy snowfall.