Let It Snow

by Sherry Lewis

  Standing, Gil clapped one hand on Cameron’s shoulder. “Another night Besides, I need to talk to your mother for a few minutes. Alone.” He followed the last word with a conspiratorial wink.

  Marti’s relaxed mood vanished. The muscles in her neck tensed and her shoulders tightened. “Why?”

  With a glare in her direction, Cameron stood and began to gather the cards. “Can’t you just talk to him without getting bitchy?”

  Marti glared at him. “Of course I can.”

  “Yeah,” Cameron muttered. “Right.” He put the deck of cards into its plastic case and snapped it shut.

  Gil’s easy smile didn’t falter, but the expression in his eyes grew slightly harder. “We might be divorced, Marti, but I am still Cameron’s father, and we’re always going to have to discuss things that concern him. Just give me a few minutes, okay?”

  She nodded, but she didn’t relax. “Fine. We’ll talk.”

  “Good. Cameron tells me he wants to stay in Gunnison.”

  Her heart slowed and her mouth grew dry. She flicked a glance at Cameron who sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his narrow chest. “He’s mentioned it.”

  “He wants to live with me, and I think we should seriously consider it.”

  “No.” The word popped out of her mouth before he even finished the sentence.

  “No?” Gil looked stunned. “Just like that? No discussing it?”

  She didn’t want to discuss it—especially in front of Cameron. “I thought we were going to talk alone.”

  “It’s about me,” Cameron said, and the surliness took over completely. “I should be able to stay.”

  “I’d rather talk to your dad alone.”

  She could have predicted Cameron’s response. He tossed the deck of cards across the kitchen so hard the plastic case cracked. “Why?”

  Before she could answer, Gil motioned for Cameron to leave the room. Cameron didn’t look happy, but he obeyed. Just like that. All Gil had to do was lift a finger and Cameron pushed through the swinging door and left them alone.

  “Marti—” Gil took a step closer and clamped his hands on her shoulders.

  She shrugged them off and took a step away. “He’s not going to stay here with you.”

  “Don’t you think we should at least discuss it? Cameron wants to stay. I want him to stay.”

  Her throat constricted, but she tried not to show the fear that rolled through her with every dull thud of her heart. “You’re both forgetting that I have custody—”

  “I’m not forgetting anything, Marti. But you’re misunderstanding what I’m trying to say.” He smiled slowly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. They still looked cold. “We belong together—all three of us. We’re a family.”

  “No,” she insisted, “we’re not.”

  “Yes.” He took her by the shoulders again. This time his fingers dug into the tender skin beneath her shoulder blades. “And I thought you were reconsidering. Are you so taken with Dennehy that you’re just lying to make Cameron happy?”

  She knew she should admit the truth, but she couldn’t. Fear clogged her throat and kept her from speaking.

  Gil sighed, as if what came next caused him pain. “I’ve talked to Brian Douglas about this. He thinks there’s a good chance of getting the divorce decree altered.”

  “You’ve been to an attorney?” Her voice sounded faraway, eclipsed by the thudding of her heart and the roaring in her ears. The instrumental version of “Silver Bells” on the CD player seemed to grow louder, taunting her.

  “I just asked him a few questions.” Gil’s grip tightened slightly. His eyes bored into hers. “I’m concerned about all the trouble Cameron’s been in since you took him away from home. And only a fool could miss seeing how upset he gets when you’re around.”

  She hated him for trying to make this her fault. And she knew he’d gladly pay Brian Douglas to convince the judge it was all her faull. If he could do that, he’d take Cameron away from her. He hadn’t changed at all. She’d been a fool to believe he had.

  “Obviously,” Gil said, pulling her a little closer, “I don’t want to take this to court. But I know how stubborn you can be, and I’m worried that you’ll let your pride keep you from doing what’s best for Cameron—for all of us. If you won’t see reason, if you won’t help me put the family back together the way it should be, then you leave me no other choice.”

  Marti’s lungs refused to draw breath and her knees threatened to give way. She balled her hands into fists so tightly her fingernails dug into her palms. “You can’t take Cameron away from me.”

  “I’ve told you what Cameron wants. I’ve told you how I feel. You know what your father thinks. This doesn’t have to end up in court, and I certainly don’t want it to. But it will if you insist on making things difficult.” Gil loosened his grip on her shoulders and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek.

  Once, the gesture had sent delicious chills through her. But not tonight. Tonight, the shivers were revulsion.

  “I still want you,” Gil whispered into her ear. “I still love you. And I’m willing to forget everything if we can just put the family back together again.” He brushed his lips against her cheek. “The choice is yours, Marti.”

  The choice wasn’t hers. Not by a long shot. She couldn’t lose Cameron. She wouldn’t survive if she did.

  The memories of that horrible night that had sealed the fate of their marriage came rolling back. The pain. The hospital. The loneliness. She could almost hear the doctor’s horrible words as he’d explained that her daughter had died in her womb. She remembered crying for Gil—wishing that he cared enough to be with her instead of at the Lucky Jack. But he hadn’t come until later.

  She’d never been able to put aside the pain or forget the loneliness. But she’d already lost one child. She wouldn’t lose another. No matter what it took.

  Gil must have sensed her hesitation. His lips curved, and the smile transformed his face just as it always had. But it didn’t have the same effect on her it had had in the past. When he lowered his mouth to hers, she felt none of the desire that had once overwhelmed her at his touch. Instead, Rick’s image formed in her mind and the memory of his kiss swept through her.

  Pulling away quickly, she held Gil at arm’s length. “Don’t. Please.”

  Gil’s smile grew. “You know what you need to do, sweetheart. I can see it in your eyes. I’ll be content with that for now.” He retrieved his straw cowboy hat from the counter and slipped on his jacket, then turned at the door to let his gaze travel over her once more. “We were always good together, babe. You can’t deny that.”

  “We were once,” she admitted.

  “And we will be again. Trust me.” And with that, he disappeared into the night, closing the door softly behind him.

  Marti sank onto a chair and clasped her hands over her mouth to prevent her hysteria from escaping. Trust? How could he talk about trust when he was blackmailing her into a reconciliation? How could he speak of love in the same breath he threatened to take her son away?

  She stood suddenly and crossed the room to the CD player. She stopped the music and stared at the portable stereo for a long moment. She might have to-marry Gil again to keep Cameron, but she’d never trust him again. Nor would she love him.

  Something inside warned her that she couldn’t make Cameron happy this way. But it didn’t matter. Happiness wasn’t the issue any longer—for either of them.

  CLUTCHING A SMALL bouquet of silk flowers, Rick picked his way across the snowy cemetery toward Jocelyn’s grave. Part of him didn’t want to be here—after all, he’d managed to avoid coming for the past two years. But his more rational side knew that he had to come. He’d put it off for too long. The experience in the kitchen had convinced him that hiding his emotions had done nothing to diminish them. He had to tell Jocelyn how sorry he was for the argument they’d had, how responsible he felt for her death, how very much he’d loved her. And wh
at better time than on the anniversary of her death?

  Slowly he started down the row toward Jocelyn’s grave. Too soon, he reached the gray headstone with roses chiseled into marble beside Jocelyn’s name. He’d chosen to bury her in Gunnison because, at the time, he’d believed he’d stay forever. But it had taken less than a month for him to change his mind, pack up everything he owned and move back to Denver.

  He pulled off his cap and stared at the engraved marble: Jocelyn Bennett Dennehy, Beloved Wife and Daughter. Yes, she had been both. She’d died knowing how much her parents and siblings loved her. But in her final moments, she’d doubted Rick’s love.

  Giving himself a mental shake, he hunkered down in front of the headstone and put the flowers on the ground. He pushed to his feet slowly. Tears blurred his vision and a lump blocked his throat. Like a shaft of lightning, pain tore through him and the echoes of it reverberated until the next shaft came.

  Maybe Marti was right. Maybe his feelings for Jocelyn ran too deep to overlook. Maybe he’d mistaken loneliness for genuine affection, and friendship for something deeper.

  Pushing to his feet, he put his cap back on his head and started away from the grave site. When a biting gust of wind hit him in the face, he turned his head slightly and caught sight of someone standing in front of another grave several rows away. A second later, he recognized Marti and his step faltered.

  He told himself to look away and keep walking, but something about her rigid posture and brittle movements held his attention.

  Without giving himself time to think, he changed direction and walked toward her. Twice before he reached her, he thought about changing his mind, but he kept walking. Marti looked as if she could use a friend. And Rick could do friendship. In fact, he made a pretty good friend. He just wouldn’t let this friendship develop into anything more complex.

  By the time he drew up beside her, he felt a little stronger. She’d placed a large bunch of flowers on the grave before her, and a few matching carnations on top of a tiny headstone beside it. For a split second as she met his gaze, she looked shocked to see him there. A second later, surprise gave way to a pleased smile.

  “Rick? What are you doing here?”

  He gestured vaguely toward Jocelyn’s grave. “Just paying a visit. And you?”

  An expression he couldn’t read crossed her face. She flushed slightly and looked at the headstone in front of her. “Talking to my mother. Unfortunately, she’s not giving me much help.”

  “Help with what?”

  She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “My dad. Cameron. Gil. My job.” A shy smile teased the corners of her mouth. “Pick one.”

  The smile lifted some of the heaviness from his heart. He even managed to smile back at her. “Gil.”

  “What?”

  “You said to pick one. I pick Gil. Tell me what’s bothering you about him.”

  She looked confused for a second longer, then smiled again. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Sure I do.” He realized he meant it. He really did want to hear what bothered her about her ex-husband. But when she tilted her head to look at him and her smile grew into one that seemed to hold the missing sunshine in it, an unexpected twinge of desire tweaked him. And Rick had to ask himself just why he wanted to hear about Gil’s failings.

  She sighed softly and glanced away. “You know that I’ve been trying to do what Cameron wants. I’ve been trying to give my relationship with Gil another chance—at least to see if there’s anything left between us to build on.”

  Rick’s smile froze in place, but he tried not to let her see that. “And? Is there anything left between you?”

  “I wasn’t sure at first. I told myself that maybe my dad was right. Maybe I did overreact to...to what happened when we were married. But now—” She shook her head slowly. “Gil stopped by the other night after you left.”

  “I know,” Rick said carefully. “I passed him on my way home.”

  She glanced up at him so quickly, he wondered if his voice had given something away. “Dad is willing to sign the Lazy M over to me, but he wants me to get married again first And he thinks I’m foolish to turn up my nose at Gil.”

  That was nothing short of emotional blackmail, but Rick didn’t say so aloud. He tried to look impartial.

  Marti laughed bitterly and looked down at her gloved hands. “Running the Lazy M is what I’ve always wanted to do,” she said softly.

  And now you can, he thought. Well; good. At least she’d be happy.

  She lifted her eyes to meet Rick’s again. “I realized that I don’t want the Lazy M,” she said. “Not at that price.”

  Overwhelming relief flooded through him. He tried to ignore the sensation and reminded himself they were friends. Just friends.

  “I think you made a wise decision,” he said at last.

  “Cameron will hate me again.”

  “Not forever.”

  “I hope not.” She shivered in a sudden blast of cold air and pulled the collar of her jacket up over her ears. “But I don’t know what to think anymore. Maybe I should just let him live with Gil for a while. Maybe I’m wrong to fight them both so hard. After all, Gil hurt me terribly when we were married, but he didn’t hurt Cameron—not directly, anyway.”

  “Would you feel safe leaving him with Gil?”

  She shrugged, but the gesture seemed almost lifeless. “Safe? Yes, I guess so. The worst that can happen is that Cameron will grow up to be just like his dad.” She smiled sadly. “Gil’s not the kind of man I want Cameron to be, but if he stays. with me, he may turn out even worse. He’s already been in trouble with the law and with his school. The way he’s been going, he’ll be in jail within five years.”

  Rick’s heart went out to her. “It’s not because of you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I hope not.” Her eyes clouded and her lips quivered. “I’ve done my best, but I’m at the end of my rope.”

  Another gust of wind whipped past them. She shivered, and Rick realized the temperature had dropped suddenly. But he didn’t want to leave her yet, and he certainly didn’t want to make her go back home alone.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting cold. How about letting me buy you a cup of coffee at the Wagon Wheel before we go our separate ways?”

  She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she’d turn down his offer. But she smiled. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

  Rick felt his own smile grow.

  “Great. Shall we go together? Or should I meet you there?”

  “I’ll follow you.”

  “Great,” he said again. He took her arm and guided her across the uneven ground. He tried not to think about the step he’d just let his heart take. But he knew that if he ever again told himself he wanted nothing more than friendship from Marti, he’d be lying.

  MAR-N SCOOTED into the booth in front of the plate-glass window that looked out over Main Street and waited while Rick slid onto the bench across from her. The aroma of something wonderful and spicy filled the restaurant. Christmas music played softly in the background. Painted snowmen and reindeer decorated the huge front window. And a tiny artificial tree with white lights and red ornaments near the cash register reminded her how few days remained until Christmas.

  She scanned the large room, hoping to see Cherryl or her husband somewhere, but she couldn’t see anyone she knew well. She’d just have to leave a message with one of the employees.

  She slipped out of her coat and settled herself comfortably on the seat, trying not to worry about being here with Rick. After all, one of Gil’s friends might see her and tell him. Marti didn’t have to let her imagination work very hard to know how he’d react.

  Not that she cared, exactly. Except that when she had that confrontation with Gil, she wanted the timing to be of her own choosing, not his. But Rick had appeared just when she needed company the most—and she hadn’t been able to resist his offer.

  She watched Rick unzip his jacket and turn o
ver both of their coffee cups on their saucers. Sighing contentedly, he rubbed his hands together as if for warmth. “Do you want something else with the coffee? Soup? Salad? Pie?”

  Marti started to shake her head, then thought better of it. “I’d love some of their chicken noodle soup if they still have any this late in the day.”

  “Ah.” He leaned back in his seat with a grin. “I see you’re a connoisseur.”

  “Of chicken noodle soup, yes.” She returned his smile and felt herself relaxing slightly.

  He pushed the silverware rolled in a napkin to one side of the table and glanced out the window. Tiny white lights trailed the buildings across the street and illuminated trees and wire reindeer in the huge concrete planter boxes that dotted the sidewalk.

  He scowled slightly. “Can you believe it’s the eighteenth already?”

  “It’s unbelievable. I haven’t even had time to really think about Christmas yet.”

  “I’ve had time to think about it,” he said with a wry grin, “but I haven’t done anything about it.”

  “I guess that means you haven’t finished your Christmas shopping yet?”

  She’d meant the question to sound lighthearted, but his smile faded suddenly and he lowered his gaze to the cup in front of him. “I don’t like Christmas much,” he said. “I’ve put off thinking about it as long as humanly possible the last couple of years.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she didn’t say anything.

  To her surprise, he glanced up at her and made an effort to smile again. “Jocelyn used to love it, though.”

  Marti’s heart twisted painfully. She told herself not to be foolish. She knew how much he still loved Jocelyn, she should expect him to talk about her. She forced herself to return his smile and managed to say, “Oh.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he heard something revealing in the word. He turned the coffee mug around on the table for several long seconds.

  When he looked up at her again, his eyes were full of anguish. “She died a week before Christmas.” He hesitated, then added softly, “Two years ago today.”