A Proposal for Christmas: State SecretsThe Five Days of Christmas

by Linda Lael Miller

  “Maryland would do just as well, I’m sure,” Holly snapped, turning her head and looking out over the wing and a floor of cumulus clouds trimmed in pink and gold.

  “Give me until Kansas to win you over.” There was a wry, injured sort of humor in David’s tone.

  She swung her eyes around, giving him a look that sliced deep. “Watch my lips,” she said coldly. “We could fly to Hong Kong. We could fly to the moon. We could fly to hell, Mr. Goddard, and you couldn’t win me over!”

  The captain gave some garbled message over the speakers and the No Smoking and Fasten Seat Belt signs blinked out, making chiming sounds. The flight attendants reappeared with their smiles and their rattling service cart.

  “You weren’t even going to say goodbye?” David asked, and this time there was no hint of humor in his tone. He sounded hurt and more than a little bewildered.

  For just a moment, Holly’s impractical heart clogged her throat. She knew there were tears glistening in her eyes when she looked at him, but she couldn’t help either the tears or the looking. “I didn’t see any point,” she managed to say.

  His jaw tightened and he paled a little beneath his winter tan. Probably, Holly thought, it was a health-club tan, as artificial as the feelings he had claimed to have for her.

  “I’m getting tired of playing the heavy. The investigation and Craig’s arrest are both in the past—can’t we go on from here?”

  How Holly wished they could, but that would be asking too much. She might love this man—she did love this man with all her heart and all her soul—but what good was that without trust? And she was never, ever going to trust him.

  “Maybe they’re in the past for you,” she said stiffly, shaking her head when a flight attendant stopped to offer liquid refreshments. After David had ordered and paid for a scotch and water, and the attendant had moved on, she finished, “I’m always going to remember, David. I’m going to remember your lies. I’m going to remember watching you handcuff my only brother in my kitchen.”

  “How about the way we made love, Holly? Are you going to remember that? Are you going to remember the things we said and did when our passion was so great that we couldn’t bear it?”

  Holly closed her eyes tight. “Don’t!”

  “Someone has to, Holly. What we had—what we have—is too rare and too precious to let go of without a fight. I’ve accepted that fact even if you haven’t.”

  Holly snatched away his drink and took a gulp of it before handing it back, and David laughed.

  “Face it, baby,” he teased in an Edward G. Robinson voice, “you’re stuck with a G-man!”

  “I’ve already had to deal with all the ‘G-men’ I care to in this lifetime, thank you very much.”

  “We must be nearing Kansas. Do you still want me to jump?”

  “More than anything,” Holly sighed, unable to look at him now. If she did, she would tumble witlessly into those indigo eyes and the fall would be much deadlier than the one to Kansas. “What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have to guard Howard or some visiting potentate?”

  He hesitated and Holly sensed that he was hiding something—a possibility that infuriated her. “I’ve got some time off,” he finally answered.

  “I hope you’re not going to Spokane,” she replied in all honesty.

  “I’m going wherever you go.”

  Holly sighed, sinking back into her seat. But when a flight attendant came by, she sat up straight again and announced in a clear voice, “Miss, this man is bothering me.”

  David laughed and the flight attendant looked him over in appreciative confusion, obviously wondering how a man like that could “bother” any woman in the unpleasant sense of the word.

  “Is...is this true, sir?” asked the pretty attendant, not certain what to do.

  “Oh, it’s true all right,” David confessed benevolently, rising from his seat and stepping into the aisle. He handed what remained of his drink to the stewardess and braced his hands against the back of the seat and the one just ahead. “And I’ll go right on bothering you, Holly Llewellyn, because I love you. Because I need you.”

  Holly flushed with furious frustration and a need that rivaled the one he professed to feel. “You go to hell, Mr. Goddard,” she replied, and then she fixed her eyes on the back of the seat in front of her and stared at the grubby tweed until it began to shift and undulate. When she dared to look, David was gone.

  Holly felt a bereft sort of triumph. He meant to haunt her, he’d as much as said that straight out. He meant to follow her and pursue her until she gave in to him. And Holly was afraid she might do just that.

  The airplane landed in Denver, where Holly was to catch her connecting flight to Spokane. Even before she looked back to confirm her suspicions, she knew that David was following her, she could feel him there, like a spectre.

  She visited the restroom and the gift shop, trying to kill the hour layover, becoming more and more tense with every passing moment. Finally Holly whirled on David and hissed, “This is harassment! Leave me alone!”

  He stepped closer, oblivious to the stream of people flowing around them on all sides, his eyes gentle. “Tell me you don’t love me, Holly,” he said quietly. “If you can truthfully say that, I’ll go away.”

  Holly swallowed. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Four little words, only four. I don’t love you. She tried to say them and they would not pass her throat.

  David waited patiently.

  Holly tried again, failed again and turned away with a stifled sob, one hand to her face. David took her elbow in a firm grasp and escorted her into the nearest lounge. There, he settled her at a shadowy corner table, holding both her hands in his. At his request, a waitress in jeans and a Western shirt brought two cups of coffee.

  Holly freed one hand to lift her cup to her lips; some of the steaming brew inside sloshed over to burn her hand and stain the tablecloth. David deftly removed the cup and set it aside to cool.

  “I want one chance with you, Holly. Just one chance. Can you give me that?”

  “Wh-what if I say no?”

  “Then I’ll get on the next plane to Washington.”

  “What about that speech you made on the airplane? What about the way you’ve been following me ever since we landed?”

  David sighed raggedly and looked away for a moment. “I’m sorry. The last thing you need is pressure, I know that. But I was desperate.”

  “Why?” Holly whispered, and the word sounded pained.

  “Because I love you—as, I believe, I have already mentioned on several occasions.”

  Holly was weary, her head full of dizzying, unrelented images—herself, dancing with the president; Craig, looking so lost and broken; David, carrying her to his bed, making love to her in a way that could still heat her blood. “I’m so confused,” she muttered.

  He squeezed her hand. “I know,” he said softly. “Let me prove to you that I really do care, Holly. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “How do you propose to do that, David?” Holly asked with a desperation that was more revealing than she could ever have guessed. “You’ll always be the man who arrested Craig, the man who lied—”

  “I’ll always be the man who loves you,” he reminded her.

  And the man who carried Toby through a frightening crowd of reporters the day after Craig was arrested, Holly thought with disjointed hope. The man who set up the Christmas tree, the man who went out for chicken, the man who was hopelessly inept at flying model airplanes....

  She gave herself a mental shake. “I don’t think—”

  “We’ll date, that’s all. We’ll talk, get to know each other. And this time, it will all be on the level, Holly.”

  Her coffee had cooled; she took a steadying sip. Maybe David was right. Maybe there was a chance, if they could just approach the situation rationally and take their time. “No lovemaking,” she ventured. “We have to start all over again, from square one. Agreed?”

  David
sighed. “Agreed,” he replied with comic reluctance.

  Their flight number was called and they left the table, David pausing to pay the check. Holly was settled into her seat on the airplane, pretending to read a magazine, when he caught up with her.

  “Very cute,” he muttered wryly, falling into his seat on the aisle.

  Holly peered at him over the rims of her reading glasses, which she was certain he had never seen before. “Have we been introduced?” she asked primly.

  David laughed and rolled his eyes.

  * * *

  The condominium David selected as his new home was in a round building, three floors from the top, and every outer wall was a window. The view was phenomenal, including Riverfront Park, the Spokane River itself and the old brick railroad tower. Division Street was a double strand of diamonds glimmering in the first shadows of twilight.

  He sat down on the lushly carpeted floor, drew his knees up and wondered whether he was doing the right thing, uprooting himself like this. Maybe he hadn’t liked his job, per se, but he was going to miss the excitement of living in Washington. He was going to miss Chris and his nieces. And his friends.

  He stood up again, taking in the spacious, as-yet-unfurnished living room. Holly was here; that was the important thing. Chris and the girls could visit as soon as school let out. And he would make new friends.

  The telephone sat on the floor, looking forlorn in the empty vastness of the room. David moved toward it, then held himself back. He’d promised to go slowly with Holly, promised not to pressure her. And he had to abide by those promises.

  He went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, which contained a quart of buttermilk and a red-and-white bucket with one chicken wing in the bottom. David gnawed at that as he wandered from one elegant room to another, pondering the lengths he’d gone to just to be near Holly and regretting none of them.

  The telephone rang, echoing in the emptiness, and David ambled toward the nearest one, expecting to hear from the real-estate agency or maybe the law school, where he was registered for review classes.

  “David?” The familiar shrill of that voice almost made him choke on the chicken he’d been munching. “God, if you knew what I’ve been through, trying to track you down! I practically had to bribe Chris—”

  “Marleen,” David said woodenly. “Marleen?”

  “I’m on leave,” she chimed in bright response, as though she had never walked out when he’d needed her. As though she had never torn his guts out and stomped on them.

  “What does that have to do with me?” he managed to ask, hoping that he didn’t sound as hollow as he felt.

  “We were married!” she sang. “Doesn’t that entitle me to call up and say hello, David?”

  “I find it hard to believe that you called just to say hello. What do you want? Money?”

  There was a silence. “David!” Marleen wailed in injured good humor. “What an awful thing to say! We loved each other once.”

  “How are your monkeys?”

  “Well, if you’re going to be that way—”

  David closed his eyes and the old pain was a sickness within him. He wished that Holly were there. “Wait,” he said. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

  “Good.” Marleen sounded pleased and perhaps a little relieved, which worried David. “Listen, sweetheart, I’m in L.A. right now, visiting the folks and all that.” She paused, lowering her voice, presumably so the “folks” wouldn’t overhear. “It’s just a deadly bore, David, so I was wondering, well, since Spokane is a fairly short flight from here—”

  “No,” David broke in.

  “No?”

  David sat down on the floor, his head throbbing. He tossed the denuded chicken wing, because if he hadn’t, he’d have tossed the telephone instead. “I mean, I’m just getting settled in here. And I’m flying back to Washington to sublet my place there and make arrangements for my furniture to be shipped. I really don’t have time—”

  “David, I was your wife!”

  “You were the greatest single mistake of my life, Marleen,” he said, thinking aloud.

  He could almost see her pouting, see the tears welling in her enormous brown eyes.

  “I guess I should have known I was going to get this kind of reception,” she said. “Chris was positively cold when I called her.”

  David’s head was pounding. “Look, Marleen, if you want money for some research project, apply for a grant. I really don’t want to talk to you. And I sure as hell don’t want to see you.”

  She sounded coy now, and just a little predatory. “Maybe you’re scared, David. Scared that I might make you care again.”

  “If that’s what you have in mind, don’t waste your time. I’m in love with somebody else.”

  The moment that last sentence was out of his mouth, David knew it had been a terrible mistake. Marleen enjoyed a challenge, and saying that had been as good as flinging down a glove.

  Having said too damned much already, David calmly and abruptly hung up the telephone. It rang again moments later; he lifted the receiver and dropped it into place.

  The next morning, at twenty-five minutes after seven, he crawled, grumbling, out of the sleeping bag he had spread out in his future bedroom. The doorbell buzzed repeatedly as he groped into his jeans and stumbled, cursing under his breath, to open the door.

  Marleen stood in the hallway, her big teeth bared in a smile that brought the jungles of Borneo to mind, her light brown, chin-length hair artfully rumpled.

  “Mountain,” she said, “meet Mohammed.”

  David groaned and rubbed his eyes. Maybe this was a bad dream. Maybe he was hallucinating.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me in?” Marleen wanted to know. “I could really use a cup of coffee and a hot shower.”

  “There are hotels all over town,” David said, barring her way. “Check into one.”

  “I don’t have the money to do that. I spent it all to fly home from Borneo and then come up here.”

  David cursed, making no effort to keep his voice down, but Marleen only laughed and shouldered her way past him, a suitcase in each hand, her eyes sweeping the empty condominium.

  “I’ll pay for your hotel,” he offered lamely. It was too late and he knew it; short of throwing Marleen out bodily, which he considered doing, his choices were limited.

  “Oh, David, stop being so tiresome. I’m not here to cause you any trouble.”

  “Then why?”

  “For old time’s sake, that’s all. And maybe for a slight—” she winced appealingly “—contribution.”

  “Anything for your monkeys, Marleen,” David said with biting grandeur, his arms sweeping out from his sides.

  “Stop calling them ‘monkeys,’” came the controlled response. “They’re chimpanzees and they are an important link to the past.”

  “Are they? As far as I’m concerned, they’re small, noisy, furry beasts that pick bugs off each other’s hides for a snack.”

  Marleen set down her suitcases, her eyes flashing even though she was still smiling determinedly. “I didn’t expect you to be so bitter after all this time, David. I really didn’t.”

  “Bitter? Me?” David retorted acidly. “Why would I be bitter, Marleen? Why the goddamned hell would I be bitter?”

  She subsided a little, her chocolate-colored eyes wide and suspiciously moist. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

  “Oh, thank you. That makes everything all right. I can feel my ulcers and residual neuroses healing right now!”

  Marleen sat down on one of her battered suitcases, a forlorn, elfin creature in a rumpled raincoat, her face in her hands. “Oh, David, don’t do this to me,” she whispered. “Please—”

  David stormed away from her into his bedroom. He’d packed for the flight to Washington the day before, and he was going to leave early. Pale with rage, he showered, then dressed in slacks, a white sweater and a sports jacket.

  When he reached the living room, his
own suitcase in hand, the hopes he’d had that Marleen would just go away went up in smoke. Her baggage was still sitting there, and he could hear her humming in the kitchen, the sound blending in with the chortling of the coffeepot.

  “Damn,” he rasped, wondering what to do, how to get Marleen out of his house, out of his life. The answer was a four-figure drop in his bank balance; he wrote out a check with violent strokes of his pen, laid the payoff beneath the handle of one of her suitcases and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Downstairs, he got into one of the cabs that were almost always on hand, muttering to himself. He would be gone for a couple of weeks, he supposed, making arrangements for his furniture to be moved, saying various goodbyes, giving away several hundred tropical fish.

  Surely, by the time he’d driven his car across country—he needed the distance and monotony of the task to think—Marleen would have gone back to Borneo and her monkeys.

  13

  The circular building towered over Riverfront Park. Holding Toby’s model Cessna in both hands, Holly gazed up at it.

  “Are we going to visit David?” Toby demanded eagerly, tugging at the sleeve of her pink Windbreaker. “Are we, Mom?”

  The bright, springlike shine of that late January day caused a painful catch in Holly’s heart, as did Toby’s question. It had been a full week since she and David had parted at the airport, agreeing to start over again. He had called just once in that time, and that had only been to pass on his new telephone number and address; he hadn’t suggested they get together. Holly’s feelings about that were mixed.

  Toby tugged at her sleeve again, more forcefully this time. “Mom?” he prompted. “Couldn’t we? Please?”

  She looked down at the little boy and smiled. “Okay. We’ll ask if he wants to come down here and fly the plane with us.”

  “And ride the carousel!” Toby beamed. “Don’t forget, you promised that we could ride the carousel!”

  They walked across the rolling, snow-patched lawns of the park, Toby straining to rush ahead, Holly holding back a little, wondering if it was wise to approach David. After all, they had an agreement, and she still had contradictory feelings toward him, stemming from the way they’d met.