“Yes.” It was almost the truth.
“Claire.”
His tone rubbed her the wrong way. “Don’t ‘Claire’ me, Mr. Closed-Up-About-Your-Own-Life.”
A red stain began to darken RJ’s cheekbones.
Her tendency to say more than she wanted revved up. “That’s right. You get people to talk about their issues, but I seriously doubt that you’ve ever shared with anyone when there was something you needed to get off your chest, or had an issue to work through. I think that you just go sailing or hammer away on a boat to get away from your problems. Being a therapist, you should know that holding it inside, or avoiding something, makes it more difficult to get past whatever is bothering you.”
There was a look of warning in his eyes. That didn’t stop her. “Your dad died two years ago. You have photos everywhere of the two of you, yet I never hear you mention him. I know it might be painful to talk about him, because you miss him, but talking about him might make it feel like he’s still here for you. Rather than not talking about him, like he never existed. I know you two were close, your brother said so.”
“Nice, that you and my brother have been talking about me.”
“Just a little.” She held up her thumb and forefinger to demonstrate how much a little was. “I ran into him at the grocery store. He’s worried about you. He said that you two don’t hang out that much, anymore. Not one-on-one, at least. I’ve noticed that, as well. You have a lot of friends, and like to hang out in a big group, but you don’t spend one-one-one time with anyone.”
“I spend time with Brandy.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I spend time with you,” he said.
Spend time together? How had they gone from friends talking, to sounding like they had a girlfriend-boyfriend issue to work out?
Something had changed in the air. RJ looked serious, like he was going to stand there all day until this was resolved.
It felt surreal.
She tried it; to see how it sounded on her tongue. “When we spend time together, you always call it therapy.”
“You’re the one who always calls it therapy,” he said.
“What would you call it,” she said.
His eyes were locked on hers. The moments ticked by. So many moments that she began to feel that she needed to find a way to back pedal out of this before she heard something she didn’t want to hear. Like hearing it clearly stated that he only wanted to be friends.
“We’re getting way off track.” She began digging around in her handbag for her car keys.
“Yes, we are.”
She thought for a moment that he was going to push her out the door and shut it.
“What I was trying to tell you about your issues,” she began, not wanting to leave it like this.
“Claire, you’re not my therapist and you are leaving.”
Well, that was a bit harsh. Was she close to losing the invitation to use his cabin? Possibly, yet she drove right over the biggest boundary line.
“I don’t think you want to bond too closely with one person because you are afraid to lose someone close to you, again.”
His jaw hardened. “My next appointment is here.”
What? His next appointment? She was supposed to be his only Sunday patient.
A red sports car pulled to the curb. Brandy climbed out of the car, skinny legs and all, and blonde waist-length hair extensions and all. Wearing a long, gold-colored, puffy down coat and suede winter boots more fashionable than Claire’s. The former athlete turned swimsuit model wore dark glasses over her eyes and glossy red lipstick on her lips. Those lips lifted in a snarl as soon as she saw Claire.
“Do you get the feeling that she wants to put me in a basement and forget about me?” Claire said.
“She’s dealing with a lot, right now,” RJ said. “Don’t take it personally.”
“Dealing with what? Lack of social skills?”
“Her last plastic surgery didn’t go as planned and it could mean future modeling contracts. Give her a break, okay? She supports her grandmother and younger brother.”
She stared at RJ. This man who came across so solidly grounded, and matter-of-fact, in many ways, was making excuses for his girlfriend’s repeated bad behavior.
Brandy stopped at the bottom step. Her flawless face was as unmoving as a store mannequin. The sunglasses were round like a bug’s eyes, and just as black. It was hard to tell if the model looked at Claire or RJ.
Brandy always sounded like she was bored. “I hope you’d done fixing what can’t be fixed. I have stupid presents to buy and I want you to drive me.” She spun around and walked back to climb into the passenger seat of her car. “Sometime this year,” she called out, sarcastically before she slammed the door shut.
“She’s got a way of putting me in the Christmas spirit, how about you?” Claire said.
Just as she was trying to count to ten, to not let the sarcasm get to her, she noticed how it had gotten to RJ.
Perhaps he wasn’t as blinded by his hot-model girlfriend, after all. But before she could let herself believe that it was all Brandy’s fault for his temper starting to rise, she had to remind herself that she was the cause of the initial simmer. Either way, she wasn’t about to stick around and find out. She had the cabin key in her purse and didn’t want to risk RJ asking for them back. Her holiday escape was ten days away and counting.
“See ya.” She was off the step and hurrying toward her car, without a look back.
As for informing her mother of her plans, well, timing was everything. She also needed to stop by Brian’s house and explain that she needed some time to herself this holiday. She would find him at home today, because, in all the time that she’d known him, Brian liked to spend this Sundays at home vacuuming while keeping an eye on the sports channel.
But at Brian’s house, the blinds were pulled closed and the morning newspaper still sat on the welcome mat.
* * * *
“Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful,” Claire sang as she shifted her BMW sports car into third gear and accelerated onto the freeway.
A dusting of snow covered the four-lane freeway that would take her over the Snoqualmie Mountain Pass to the town of Cle Elum.
If she timed it right, she should arrive by 2pm, well before sunset. She’d left early on this Christmas Eve to avoid the holiday traffic of those making a last dash to the mall before heading to their holiday merry-making, or making their own rebellious escape.
In truth, she’d left earlier than planned, before Brian came looking for her, asking for an explanation of the Starbucks bag with coffee beans left on his doorstep and the brief note inside. There were two text messages from him asking her to call.
But she hadn’t.
Since her session with RJ, she’d lost some of her holiday-rebel momentum. What she had left, she had to reserve for dealing with her mom. Brian would have to wait.
She’d belted out her third Christmas carol since leaving the lake-front community of Kirkland and quickly made the first leg of her escape that involved heavy use of the gas pedal as she ripped past the eastside city of Bellevue. She’d held up her hand like blinders so that she could not see the exit to her parent’s house and risk having guilt pull her in that direction.
Once past, the joy of liberation overcame her, and she could not contain a ‘yahoo!’ with a fist to the air.
Jingle Bells. Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem, and Let It Snow, one song right after the other filled the car as she sang along.
Just as she was hoping for another song to follow on the radio, they went to a commercial break.
Bad timing on the radio DJ’s part because the songs were keeping her from thinking of Christmases past; her mom decorating Christmas cookies, and setting out perfectly matching Christmas dishes on the dinner table, and leaving tiny wrapped gifts on everyone’s chair. Was it her imagination, or was she smelling roasting turkey, and gravy, and her mom’s pies?
It was almost too much.
She increased her speed. In fact, she was going fast enough that the exits, that might otherwise provide an opportunity to turn around, were just a blur.
One more exit to go, and there would be no more opportunities to turn around, not for miles and miles.
She hit auto dial on her Bluetooth and took in a slow and steadying breath. Time to draw the boundary lines, even if it wasn’t face to face.
“McNaughton residence where Santa knows who’s naughty or nice,” sang the cheery voice that answered the phone.
“Hi, Mom.” Claire tightened her hands on the steering wheel.
“Oh, good, Claire. I need you to pick up some eggnog and a bag of those green and red M&M’s on your way over. And tell me that you didn’t forget to make Auntie Mame’s rum balls. Your grandfather will be disappointed if you forgot, again. Also, you and Brian need to wear those pale green sweaters I left at your place. Our family Christmas photo is going to be lovely this year as I have everyone coordinated in what to wear.”
“Mom,” she began.
“Dinner is at seven. We need to leave early for church services tonight because your dad does not want to park on the street, again, this year.”
“Mom, I—”
“I may need you to wrap a few presents when you get here, and I’ll need you to run interference if your cousin and his girlfriend start bickering, which reminds me, I need to hide the good scotch.”
“Stop! Mom, stop!”
“Hold on, dear. Your father says that Brian called here earlier looking for you, saying that you were not answering your phone and that he needs to talk to you.” Her mother paused, “Are you two fighting?”
“No. Mom…I’m not coming to Christmas Eve dinner, nor will I be there in the morning to open my stocking.”
A heavy sigh broke from her mother. “Claire Marie, don’t you dare start in on this silly nonsense, again. Where else would you go on Christmas Eve? You get your butt over here because the McNaughton’s do not break tradition.”
“I’ve made other plans.”
The silence on the phone was long enough to get in a few lines of Silent Night. But her mother did not always have the best sense of humor.
“Claire Marie. What on earth—”
“I love you, Mom. I just need to be alone this Christmas.”
“Oh, God! It’s that Bad Santa, isn’t it? He’s taken you hostage.”
“What Bad Santa?”
“The one on the news who is breaking into homes and taking presents right out from under the tree. He even stole some puppies. Can you believe that? Oh, Claire,” her mom’s agitation level increased, “please tell me that you haven’t been kidnapped with those poor puppies?”
“I have not been kidnapped.” Claire knew it was going to take more than that to calm her mother. To keep her from calling out the National Guard, Claire gave up a little information on her plan “I’m using a friend’s cabin in Cle Elum. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back in a few days. Love you.”
Claire ended the call.
It was really happening. The city landscape fell behind her in the rearview mirror and the highway into the mountain range opened before her like freedom’s door.
Her Christmas.
Her way.
Didn’t mean it was guilt-free.
She was almost angry at her mother for this lingering bad taste. She lowered the window for some fresh air and repeated some of RJ’s coaching in her head as the miles sped by: ‘This is your life, Claire, live it the way you want to.’
She turned up the volume on the radio station.
Run, Run Rudolph blasted through the speakers.
She urged the BMW on faster.
As the snowy hills drew closer, she had the strangest thought that maybe she didn’t want to be completely alone this Christmas.
Those thoughts strayed to RJ and how he was likely cozying up to his girlfriend tonight, and if he would be handing her a fancy wrapped box from a jewelry store.
She bit down on her bottom lip. She should be thinking of Brian and her explanation to him when she returned. She wasn’t good at this break-up business. Claire would be the first to admit that she could talk a crystal chandelier into taking up residency over a dining table made of old, wormy barn wood, but when it came time to discuss a difficult subject matter with a live person, she sucked. She didn’t like to hurt people’s feelings.
She concentrated on following the directions to the cabin, unaware that her cell phone, set to mute, flashed repeatedly with an incoming call.
Chapter 3
Claire had no idea that isolation could be so blissful. A fire crackled in the river-rock fireplace. She wore her Frosty the Snowman flannel, shorty-pajamas with creamy ribbed knit socks that came up over her knees. She loved the colorful red bows that trimmed the socks, however ridiculous they may look. She had to agree that her entire Christmas Eve get-up could never be seen in public. To warm her hands, she held a red ceramic mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings.
The chill was beginning to leave her bones after trudging one mile up a road closed to vehicles, except those of the off-road and snowmobile variety. RJ had told her that she’d need snow pants, hat, and gloves, so she’d been prepared for the snowy hike, bringing, as well, two backpacks. One with clothes and one with food and holiday decorations.
She had followed the instructions to the Pine Loch Sun neighborhood lodge and parked in one of the guest parking spots, alongside two unoccupied sheriff vehicles with their engines still warm and snow melting off their bumpers.
She’d declined RJ’s offer to use his snowmobile to get up to the cabin. The way he’d described the vehicle, it sounded like a beast. She’d rather walk.
Even so, there was no snowmobile with Denver Broncos sticker in the third parking space form the lodge. Something she’d need to remember to tell the owner of the cabin.
Thankfully, it was still daylight when she’d arrived. And she didn’t have to hike in alone.
A couple loading their gear onto a toboggan came alongside of her as she skirted around the steel barrier that kept vehicles off the impassable road.
Both were dressed in warm, winter attire. The woman, wearing a leopard-print headband with matching gloves and winter boots, introduced herself as Judy. Her green eyes sparkled merrily. Her tall boyfriend, named Earl, wore a ski cap and a red, down vest over a plaid shirt with several layers underneath. They both kindly offered to add her backpacks onto the toboggan and the three set off up the snow-covered road with Earl pulling the toboggan with ease.
Earl had looked back over his shoulder to the sheriff vehicles and commented, curiously, as to what their presence was all about.
They trudged a good mile up the snowy road. She was out of breath and tired by the time RJ’s cabin came into view. She recognized it by the description he’d given her of a green roof and a wood carved black bear on the front porch.
Her get-away lodging wasn’t as rustic as she’d feared. In fact, it looked more like a house than a cabin. The two-story, cedar-sided home, with pitched roof, was trimmed with a string of white Christmas lights. A Christmas wreath of fresh cedar boughs adorned the carved front door. The porch leading to the front door extended around the side to the back of the cabin and provided a view through the pine trees of a lake in the distance with snow-covered foothills on the opposite shore.
On the hike in, Judy had pointed out the glacier-fed body of water, name Lake Ce Elum. Earl added that elk and wild turkeys frequented the area and that, not too far off, was the town of Roland, a former mining town, now with only abandoned mine shafts.
She’d waved goodbye to Judy and Earl and let herself in.
* * * *
Claire left the drapes open as night descended, watching the falling snow, lit up by the white Christmas lights hanging from the eves, that had turned on at dusk.
She looked around the room with appreciation and
a bit of envy. The cabin was lovely, and curiosity had her wondering why RJ and his girlfriend were not using it, again, this holiday. She thought back to the day she’d been handed the cabin keys and how her pointed question to RJ, as to why he and Brandy were not using the cabin, was never answered. And she’d thought about that more than a few times in the past week. Something was off between RJ and Brandy. She just felt it.
And it was none of her business.
She should be more concerned about her own love life.
But not this weekend. She was giving herself permission not to think about it.
RJ’s lovely cabin helped to take her mind off what she didn’t want to deal with.
In comparing RJ’s home to this cabin, his home was decorated as if he wasn’t planning on staying long. The cabin looked like someone had lived here for many years. It was eclectically furnished with an overstuffed red sofa and matching armchairs, antique cabinets and side tables, modern lamps, and a chandelier made from deer antlers. Next to the fireplace was a red and green plaid dog bed with a chewed-on stuffed toy nearby. On a side table sat an old rotary-style telephone that had a dial tone when she lifted the handset.
She had just set the handset back down when the phone rang with a loud jingle that made her jump.
The phone rang and rang while she tried to decide if she should answer it. She even had this crazy thought that her mother might have a crystal ball and had found her. Or worse, what if it was Brandy who found out that RJ had offered her the use of the cabin and that meant war?
The old rotary wasn’t connected to an answering machine. The ringing was going to drive her nuts. She quickly lifted the handset as if to answer, then set it back down again to disconnect the call, hoping it was simply a solicitor.
Not two seconds later, the phone rang, again. Okay. This was just too creepy. Who else would be calling?
Claire unplugged the phone line from the back of the phone.
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