Let It Snow

by Sherry Lewis

  Rick knew that was probably true. Lynette and Jocelyn had always been close. “Lynette took Jocelyn’s death harder than anyone else, I think.”

  “Anyone but you,” Tom amended.

  “Yes, I guess so. If coming here bothers Lynette so much, why are you here?”

  Tom picked at the label on his bottle. “Because she’s so damn determined to keep everything the way it was, it’s almost spooky at times.” He leaned back in his seat and fixed Rick with a steady gaze. “Tell me honestly, does it bother you to have us here?”

  He didn’t want to cause any hurt feelings, so he said, “Not really. Why should it?”

  Tom shrugged. “No reason, I guess.” He pulled a long piece of the label away. “Just that...well, you know. With Jocelyn gone, I thought it might bother you to have your old in-laws hanging around all the time.”

  “You don’t hang around all the time,” Rick protested. He might have left it at that, but he couldn’t ignore the tiny flicker of guilt at being dishonest with Tom. He smiled and added, “I just know that it’s time for me to get on with my life. That’s one of the reasons I came back.”

  He nodded thoughtfully and sent Rick a lopsided smile as he lifted his bottle. “Enough maudlin talk. I’ve been meaning to ask you where the best place will be for us to run the snowmobiles once they get here.”

  “Snowmobiles?” Rick didn’t try to hide his surprise. “Who’s bringing snowmobiles?”

  Tom let out an annoyed sigh. “Lynette didn’t tell you?”

  “She never mentioned them.”

  “Great.” Tom shoved his beer bottle a few inches away. “I told her to check with you about them.”

  “Well, she didn’t.”

  “We made arrangements to rent some in town,” Tom said. “Lynette’s thinking maybe we can run them in that big field across the river.”

  Rick shook his head quickly. “Can’t do it. I told you, it’s not my property.”

  “Yeah, I know. But maybe we can get permission from the owner to use it.”

  “Maybe,” Rick said, “but I doubt it.”

  “We can ask, can’t we?”

  Rick supposed they could, but he could think of half a dozen things he’d rather do than approach Maddock with the question. If he had to ask, he’d rather talk to Marti about it first. That thought brought a slow smile to his lips. “I could talk to his daughter, I guess. She might be able to get him to agree.”

  “Well, then?” Tom leaned back in his seat and smiled with satisfaction, as if the problem had been solved.

  A tingle of anticipation at the thought of seeing Marti again worked up Rick’s spine. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  “Great.” Tom drained the last of his beer and pushed to his feet. “You want another one?”

  Rick shook his head. “No, I’d better keep a clear head if I’m going to be swinging an ax again in the morning.”

  Tom chuckled. “Not me. If I’m going to haul firewood around all day, I’d rather be numb.”

  “If you have too many,” Rick warned, “you won’t be numb. You’ll be hungover.”

  Tom crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out another bottle. “One more, then I’ll head back to our cabin. You know, of course, that if Lynette accuses me of getting drunk, I’ll be forced to blame you for making me drink it.”

  “Yeah.” Rick grinned at his brother-in-law. “I’m sure she’ll believe you.”

  “She might.”

  “And she might not.”

  With an elaborate sigh, Tom opened the refrigerator again. “Fine. I’ll put it back. Some pal you are,” he joked. “Won’t even take the blame for what I do.”

  Rick laughed. “I’m not an idiot. I know what Lynette’s like when she gets upset.” The instant the words left his mouth, his smile faded. Lynette’s temperament was the same as Jocelyn’s, and he couldn’t help remembering how he used to tiptoe around her when she was angry—until the night she died.

  Tom didn’t seem to notice the change in his mood. He closed the refrigerator, crossed the room and clapped one hand on Rick’s shoulder. “I’d better get back before she comes looking for me. Thanks for agreeing to ask if we can use the field. Even if the guy says no, at least Lynette can’t claim I didn’t ask.”

  “You aren’t asking,” Rick reminded him. “I am.”

  Tom worked up an expression of surprised hurt. “I asked you.”

  Rick laughed again. “So you did.” He stood and followed Tom through the living room to the front door. When he was alone again, he sank into one of the armchairs in front of the fire and leaned his head against the chair’s back.

  Visions of Jocelyn danced through his head, but they weren’t pleasant images. He didn’t like remembering that Jocelyn had been very much like Lynette.

  She’d made demands like a child. He’d placated her like an anxious parent—like Marti did with Cameron—but he’d resented having to do so. And then, he’d felt guilty about the resentment. He saw the same pattern replayed between Tom and Lynette. Lynette demanded. Tom placated. He just hoped Tom wouldn’t let things build up inside the way he, himself, had.

  His anger and resentment had driven Jocelyn away. And guilt had been his constant companion since her death.

  MARTI PRESSED the save key on her computer, leaned back in her chair and glanced out the living-room window. Afternoon sun glittered on the icy snow. Deepening shadows lengthened across the front yard and stretched toward the forest and the river beyond. Melting icicles dripped steadily from the side of the house onto the ground.

  Outside, she could hear voices—her father’s deep baritone, Gil’s slightly higher, and Cameron’s deep enough now to match his father’s. Gil said something she couldn’t make out, but her father and Cameron laughed aloud. They sounded happy working together, and Cameron seemed like a different person with Gil around. Only Marti had reservations about the arrangement.

  Her father and Cameron made no effort to hide their hopes for a reconciliation, but Gil hadn’t pushed her—at least not very hard. He’d been friendly, talkative, amusing, entertaining and even sensitive. She suspected him of wearing his “courting” face and worried it wouldn’t last long—just as it hadn’t the first time.

  She wondered whether all men put on such a show when they were trying to win a woman, and whether they all changed so completely once the vows had been exchanged. Take Rick, for instance. He seemed to be all the things Gil pretended to be. But she couldn’t help wondering if Rick had listened to Jocelyn with the same intense interest he showed around her, or if he’d changed once he became a husband.

  Holding back a sigh, she scrolled to the top of her article and began to reread it. Since she’d been back in Gunnison, she’d let family concerns and Rick take over her thoughts for too long. See? Here she was again, daydreaming and speculating, instead of working. She needed to put Gil, her father, Cameron and Rick out of her mind. Surely she could make herself concentrate long enough to finish this article and mail it to her editor.

  Making a few minor edits as she worked, she read the article once more and then sent it to print. Later, after dinner, when her mind was fresh and Gil had gone home, and her father and Cameron were busy watching television, she’d read the hard copy. But for now, she needed to do something else. She could try again to call Cherryl, or she could get out of the house. Take a walk in the fresh air. Maybe stroll down by the bridge and see if she could glimpse Rick working outside.

  Great idea, she thought with a laugh. Her relationship with Gil was still unsettled, Cameron had barely started speaking civilly to her again, and here she was, daydreaming about the neighbor. She turned off her computer, pushed away from the desk and stood. Instead of Rick, she should be thinking about Christmas. It was only ten days away. Instead of sneaking down to the bridge for a peek at Rick, she ought to carry in the boxes of her mother’s decorations from the barn and make some concession to the holidays.

  She dialed Cherryl’s number, but after eig
ht rings, she hung up. She pulled on her jacket, gloves and hat and stepped onto the wide front porch. But when she realized the men had gone into the barn, she changed her mind. There’d be plenty of time to decorate tomorrow.

  She hopped off the porch, walked the trail of packed ice to the driveway and hurried toward the road. The weather had turned slightly warmer, and the air felt so refreshing, she decided to trust herself with a short walk. Toward the bridge.

  She walked slowly and watched the sky turn a deep inky blue as the sun dropped ever lower. She’d almost reached the bridge when the sound of voices caught her attention. She stopped walking and listened. They were close, obviously on this side of the river.

  With her heart in her throat, she listened more intently, hoping to hear Rick’s deep voice among them. Before she realized they were moving, a young girl of about fourteen burst from the trees holding a mound of snow in both hands. A second later, an older girl—maybe seventeen—came through the trees after her.

  As the first girl’s gaze swept over Marti, she ground to a halt. The older girl quickly followed suit and smiled. “Hi. You caught us.”

  Marti glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see her father barreling along the road toward them. To her relief, she didn’t see him—yet. “It looks as if you’re having fun.”

  The older girl nodded. “We’re having a snowball fight.” She took a step toward her sister. “I’m Ashley Waverly, and this is my sister, Kendra. My uncle owns the cabins over there.” She pointed across the river, and glanced back quickly. Tufts of dark hair peeked out from beneath her knit cap and her pretty face clouded, as if she expected trouble.

  “We’ve wandered over the line, haven’t we?” Kendra asked.

  Marti couldn’t help but smile. “Actually, you did when you crossed the bridge.”

  Ashley’s face reddened and she jabbed Kendra with her elbow. “I told you.” To Marti, she added, “Uncle Rick told us not to come over here, but it’s so pretty, we couldn’t resist.”

  Kendra’s face clouded. She shared her sister’s dark hair, but the nearly perfect features made her look almost exactly like the picture of Jocelyn she’d seen on Rick’s mantel. “So, are we in trouble for being over here?”

  Marti hooked her thumbs in the back pockets of her jeans. “I don’t mind, but it’s my father’s property, and he gets pretty upset when people trespass.” Loyalty kept her from adding that he only really cared if the people were connected to Rick. That sounded too petty.

  Kendra’s eyes widened. “Are you Cameron’s mom?”

  “Yes, but you can call me Marti. I take it you’ve met Cameron?”

  Ashley nodded, but she didn’t look nearly as impressed as Kendra did. “Yeah. When he was working with Uncle Rick and my dad.”

  “He’s going to find someone to take us on a sleigh ride when it gets closer to Christmas,” Kendra said.

  “Cameron is?” Marti didn’t try to disguise her surprise. It had been a long time since he’d offered to do anything for someone else. “That’s great.”

  Kendra looked as if she might say something else, then stopped and frowned slightly at the road behind Marti. A second later, Marti heard the sound of an engine coming their way. It had to be her father or Gil. Or both. Her smile faded.

  Ashley’s expression sobered instantly. She grabbed Kendra’s arm and started toward the bridge, but before they could make it, Gil’s truck loomed around the last curve in the road.

  He braked, skidded a little and came to a stop not far from where Marti stood. Throwing open the door, he jumped to the ground and crossed to stand beside Marti. “What’s going on here?”

  Marti frowned at him, more than a little resentful of the possessiveness in his voice. The Lazy M wasn’t his yet, and she certainly didn’t owe him any explanations. “I’m talking to Dad’s neighbors.”

  Gil parked his fists on his hips and turned his scowl on the girls. “Don’t you know this is private property?”

  Ashley nodded and sidled closer to her sister. “Yes.”

  “Well, then?” Gil took a step toward them.

  Marti’s cheeks burned and her chest tightened with anger. “Leave them alone, Gil. I called them over here.”

  Ashley stared at her for a second, then looked away quickly. Marti prayed Gil hadn’t noticed the surprise on the girl’s face.

  His expression shifted subtly. “Your father wouldn’t like that,” he warned. “You know how he feels about trespassers.”

  “Yes, I do,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I think he’s right.” She struggled to control her temper. After all, Gil was only trying to respect her father’s wishes. “Anyway, there’s no harm done. We were just talking.”

  Gil dipped his head in a curt nod. “That’s fine,” he said, turning back to Ashley and Kendra. “But you’d best get back on your own side of the river before it becomes a problem.”

  They didn’t need to be told twice. Spinning away, Ashley pulled Kendra after her. She reached the bridge, then turned with a wary smile. “It was nice to meet you,” she called to Marti.

  Marti smiled back. “It was nice to meet you, too.”

  Gil waited until the girls had crossed the bridge, then scowled at Marti. “Get in the truck. I’ll give you a ride back home.”

  She shook her head and stepped back. “I’ll walk. It’s nice out. Besides, you’re obviously on your way home.”

  “Oh, for hell’s sake, Marti. I’m not going to bite you. Besides, we need to talk about where Cameron’s going to be for Christmas.”

  She hesitated for a second, then nodded. She supposed she couldn’t avoid the conversation, and she’d rather have it when she and Gil were alone. “I guess you’re right,” she said and tried to soften her expression.

  To her surprise, her efforts had an immediate effect. The tension faded from Gil’s expression and something like relief took its place. “Henry thinks we should all spend Christmas together, but I told him that’s up to you.”

  Her step faltered, but she tried not to show the new, sudden panic that filled her. She could refuse, of course, but then she’d just be handing Cameron another reason to resent her.

  She forced a smile. “I guess that would make Cameron happy.”

  “Yes, it would.”

  “Then, I guess that’s what we should do.”

  Gil put his arm around her shoulders and started toward the truck. “I’m glad you think so.”

  Marti forced herself not to pull away from him. She told herself it would get easier with time. But his arm felt like lead on her shoulders and she couldn’t rid herself of the strange empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  And she wondered, for just one moment, if she could honestly give him a second chance, or if her feelings for him had been dead too long even to try. She didn’t want to sit beneath the Christmas tree with Gil or look at him over their holiday dinner. But Cameron did. And Marti wanted Cameron to be happy. More than anything in the world, she wanted her son to love her again.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Marti closed the front door of her father’s house behind her and walked across the snowy parking area toward her car. Weak winter sunlight peeked out from behind pale gray clouds and a light breeze teased her as she walked. Shivering slightly, she tucked her shopping list into the pocket of her jacket and pulled her keys from her purse.

  At least it wasn’t snowing. She could easily make the drive into Gunnison, visit her aunt Martha for a few minutes and try once again to make contact with Cherryl. She could pick up the groceries she needed, and come back in time to make lunch. She sighed and worked her keys into the car-door lock. At times, when she let herself think about it, the ease with which she’d fallen into her mother’s role in her father’s house amazed her.

  She didn’t mind doing things for Henry. She’d always enjoyed cooking, though cleaning house was another story entirely. But she still had to work at putting aside the resentment that arose each time sh
e looked across the table and saw Gil sitting there.

  From the moment she’d agreed to give him another chance, he’d become a regular fixture around the house. Only the delight on Cameron’s face kept her feelings in check.

  Smiling ruefully, she unlocked the car. But before she could get inside, Cameron called her. She stopped and looked back toward the house. He hadn’t willingly sought her company in so long, her heart raced. And when he hurried from the house to the car and actually smiled at her, she had to blink rapidly to hold back the grateful tears.

  “Are you leaving now?” he asked.

  “I was planning to.”

  He opened the passenger-side door and slid inside. “Then, can you drop me off at Rick’s on your way?”

  “Of course.” The thought of seeing Rick again sent apprehension rushing through her, but she tried to match Cameron’s casual mood. She worked up a determined smile and settled behind the steering wheel. “How are things going on the job?”

  Cameron shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

  Marti didn’t want to push her luck. She let silence lapse between them and maneuvered the car carefully over patches of ice dotting the road where the trees blocked the sun.

  “I talked to Dad last night,” Cameron said after a long moment. “He says you’re going to let him spend Christmas with us.”

  No wonder Cameron seemed so pleasant this morning. Marti worked up another smile. “Yes, if you want him there.”

  He looked faintly irritated. “Of course I want him there. Don’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t have agreed to let him join us if I didn’t.” She hoped he didn’t notice the lack of enthusiasm in her voice.

  Apparently satisfied, Cameron leaned back in his seat and tapped his knee in rhythm to a song only he could hear. “Good. You won’t be sorry. He’s changed.”

  Marti didn’t know if she believed that, but she didn’t argue. This tentative channel of communication between them was too precious to destroy. “I hope so.”

  Cameron frowned at her. “All you have to do is give him another chance.”