Let It Snow

by Sherry Lewis

“You told me that much already,” Rick said. “I need a little more detail.”

  Cameron didn’t say anything for so long, Rick began to wonder if he’d pushed too hard. No, he told himself. Marti had spent the past three years trying to avoid confrontation with Cameron, and look where that had gotten her. Nowhere.

  “Tell me, Cameron,” Rick insisted.

  Cameron took another sip of cocoa, and let out a heavy sigh. “She says my dad wants to get Grandpa’s property so he can sell it to somebody else. And she says they want to build a factory on it.”

  “Is that what you fought with her about?”

  “She’s making it up—I know she is.”

  Rick tried to keep his expression impassive. “She didn’t make it up, Cameron. I’ve heard the same thing.”

  “Where did you hear that? Who told you?”

  Rick didn’t want to involve Cherryl, so he shrugged casually. “I don’t remember, exactly. Somewhere in town. But it was a pretty reliable source.”

  Cameron’s frown deepened and two spots of color appeared in his pale cheeks. “It’s a lie. My dad wouldn’t do that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I am. I know my dad.” Cameron sounded confident, but Rick could see a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

  “You said earlier your dad wasn’t home when you left. Where was he?”

  Cameron sent him an angry glance, but he didn’t answer.

  “Maybe he had a meeting with the developer.”

  “No way.”

  “Your mother has no reason to lie to you, Cameron. And neither does the person who told me about the factory.”

  “My mom’s lied before,” Cameron argued. “She’s always trying to make my dad look like a jerk.”

  “So let’s talk about your dad. Where was he tonight?”

  Cameron lowered his mug to the floor beside him. “Out.”

  Rick knew he was pushing again, but he decided to trust his instincts. “Out where?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “You know, don’t you? Why won’t you tell me?”

  Cameron didn’t answer, but the muscle in his jaw jerked again.

  “Was he meeting with someone?”

  The kid’s breathing quickened—short, hard, shallow breaths that made his nostrils flare slightly.

  Rick gave Cameron time to calm down, then continued. “Your mom isn’t to blame for everything that went wrong in your family, Cameron. Your dad played a part in the divorce, too. There are two sides to every story.”

  Cameron shook his head, slowly at first, then more quickly.

  “I’m not saying your mom didn’t make mistakes in judgment,” Rick assured him. “Just that your dad isn’t completely blameless.”

  “You don’t even know.”

  The words erupted so unexpectedly, Rick jerked back in surprise. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know. But neither do you.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You know some things, but the only two people who know the whole story are your mom and your dad. Your mom’s a good woman, Cameron. You need to trust her a little. She did what she thought was best.”

  “Yeah?” Cameron smirked. “Well, then, her best isn’t good enough, is it?”

  “You’re being unfair—”

  “It’s not good enough,” Cameron shouted, kicking off the blankets and stumbling to his feet.

  Rick stood to face him, tensed and ready to block the door if he had to.

  “I did my best, too,” Cameron shouted. “But that wasn’t good enough, either. Chelsea still died. And Mom and Dad got divorced. Because of me. Because I screwed up, just like I always do.” Cameron slapped his, chest with one hand as he spoke and tears filled his eyes.

  Without thinking, Rick closed the distance between them, grabbed Cameron by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Cameron stiffened momentarily and then it was as if something inside the boy gave way. Huge racking sobs shook his body and tears spilled onto Rick’s shoulder. He didn’t say a word; he just held Cameron until the tears slowed and Cameron seemed to remember who and where he was. Only then did Rick let him go. “Sounds like you need to talk about it.”

  Cameron wiped his eyes with the back of his arm and gave one last shudder. “I can’t.”

  “Listen to me,” Rick said gently. “I know from experience what holding grief inside can do to you. For the past two years, I’ve carried around the guilt for my wife’s death. We had an argument the night she died, and I know that if we hadn’t fought, she’d still be alive.”

  Cameron’s eyes widened, then narrowed again. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Rick told himself he didn’t need to say more, that he could keep his guilt stashed away still. But not if he wanted Cameron to confide in him. If he wanted to ask for truth, he had to be willing to give it. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to tell Cameron about Jocelyn.

  He paced while he spoke, telling the story in halting phrases. He left nothing out. Nothing. He watched Cameron’s face change as the story emerged. When, at last, the self-pity gave way to something else, Rick finished. “Now,” he said, “why don’t you tell me who Chelsea is and why you think you’re responsible for your parents’ divorce.”

  Cameron dropped back onto the couch and clutched the end of one of the blankets. “Chelsea was my baby sister.” Rick knew he looked stunned—he could feel it in every muscle of his face. But Cameron didn’t notice. He’d closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “She was dead when she was born.”

  Rick’s heart twisted. He remembered Marti standing beside that tiny grave at the cemetery. She’d lost a child. And she feared she was losing another.

  Rick lowered himself into his chair again, gripped the armrests and waited. He’d let Cameron tell the story at his own pace. It was time for all of them—Marti, Cameron and Rick—to put their demons to rest.

  MARTI WAKENED suddenly and sat upright in bed. Her heart jumped into her throat and stayed there for a second until she realized she could hear a telephone ringing in the distance. Without taking time to wake up completely, she slipped out of bed and stood. But it took a few seconds and another ring of the telephone before she got her bearings.

  She glanced at the digital alarm clock on her bedside table and squinted to make sense of the glowing numbers. Two-thirty.

  She wasted a few more precious seconds fumbling for the bedside lamp, then gave up and felt her way toward the bedroom door. She could hear her father’s heavy footsteps leaving his own room at the other end of the hall. The soft glow of a lamp from his bedroom spilled into the hallway and illuminated his slump-shouldered silhouette moving with surprising quickness toward the telephone.

  A second later, she heard him answer. “Yeah?” His voice sounded gruff and heavy with sleep. But with his next words, he sounded fully alert. “What? When?”

  Marti’s heart jumped into her throat and her sleep-induced fog evaporated. Something had happened to Cameron. She knew.it as surely as she knew her own name. She raced down the hallway and came to a stop at her father’s side. “What is it?” she demanded in a harsh whisper. “What’s wrong?”

  Her father held up one hand to silence her, but he kept his attention riveted on the telephone. “No... No. When did you get back?” He let out an annoyed sigh. “You have no idea where he is?”

  Frantic, Marti reached for the receiver. “Who is it? Gil? What’s happened to Cameron?”

  “Yes. She’s right here.” Henry extended the receiver toward her. “It’s Gil. Cameron’s missing.”

  “Missing?” Marti’s knees threatened to buckle. She steadied herself with one hand and nearly tore the receiver away from her father with the other. “Gil? What’s happened to Cameron?”

  “You tell me.” Anger surged through the wire, and she could hear alcohol on his voice. “Where in the hell is he?”

  “Why are you asking me? Dad dropped him off at your house.”

  “No kidding. He was here when I left, but he’
s gone now.”

  “Where did you go? How could you leave him?”

  Her father put a gentle hand on her arm, and the gesture brought tears to her eyes.

  “Don’t start in on me, Marti.” Gil’s voice tightened. “Just tell me where Cameron is.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him. Did he leave a note?”

  “A note?” Gil let out a bitter laugh. “Hell, no. But there’s a hole in the wall by his bed and there’s stuff all over the floor. Are you telling me the truth? You really haven’t seen him?”

  “I really haven’t.” Marti glanced at her father. Panic coursed through her body with every beat of her heart. But panic wouldn’t solve anything, and it wouldn’t help her find Cameron.

  She leaned against the wall and told herself to calm down. “Did someone break in?”

  “No.” Gil’s voice rose a notch. “Nobody broke in.”

  “Then, where could he be?” She asked the question more of herself than of Gil, but he responded, anyway.

  “How in the hell am I supposed to know?”

  The question shattered the fragile hold she’d kept on her self-control. “You should know, you son of a bitch. He went there to be with you. Where were you?”

  “Out.”

  His standard answer. Red-hot anger consumed her. All his past wrongs seemed to line up in front of her. “Out. You always go out.” She nearly choked on the words and had to drag in several deep breaths before she could go on. “You’ve ignored Cameron for the past three years. He might as well not even have existed for all the attention you paid him. But for some reason, in spite of all that, he’s kept you on a pedestal and thought you were some kind of Wonder Dad. But now, finally, maybe he’s seen you for what you really are.”

  Without giving it a second thought, she slammed down the receiver and turned to her father. “I’m going to look for him.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  She thought about refusing, but he looked so distraught she didn’t have the heart to leave him behind. “All right. I’ll get dressed and meet you downstairs.”

  She hurried to her bedroom, dressed quickly and raced downstairs. There, she yanked their coats from the closet, paced to the window and peered into the night. Clouds covered the moon and stars, making it impossible to see more than a few feet.

  She glanced at the stairs and willed her dad to dress quickly. Sighing impatiently, she turned back to the window. This time, she thought she saw movement in the shadows. With her heart in her throat, she raced to the front door and wrenched it open. “Cameron?”

  She ran to the edge of the porch and peered into the darkness. Yes. There it was again. This time, she made out the shape of someone walking up the driveway.

  Tugging on her coat, she jumped from the porch and hurried toward the shadowy figure. Snow crunched beneath her feet as she closed the distance between them. “Cameron? Is that you?”

  “No, Marti. It’s me.” Rick’s deep voice drifted through the darkness toward her.

  Surprise stopped her in her tracks. “Rick? What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

  He stopped a few inches from her. “I came to let you know that Cameron’s at my place.”

  Her knees buckled, as relief shot through her. The horrible fear that had propelled her during the past few minutes vaporized so suddenly, she felt weak. “At your place? Thank God. What happened? Is he all right? Why didn’t you call me and let me know?”

  Rick took hold of her arm and steadied her. “He’s fine. In fact, he fell asleep on my couch. And I didn’t call because I didn’t want to do anything that might make him run again.”

  A sudden blast of icy wind curved around them. Rick shivered involuntarily. Marti looked behind him for his truck, but the driveway stood empty. “You didn’t walk all the way over here, did you?”

  He sent her that wonderful crooked smile of his. “No, I left the truck down the road. I didn’t want to wake your dad.” He let his gaze travel over the brightly lit house. “I guess I didn’t need to worry about that.”

  “Only because Gil woke us both a few minutes ago. I’ve been frantic. We were just getting ready to start looking for Cameron. I’m so grateful you were there to take him in.” She tugged on his arm, urging him toward the house. “Come inside where it’s warm. I’ll make something hot to drink, and you can tell me everything.”

  Rick’s smile faded. He put one hand over hers where it touched his side. His expression grew serious. “Marti—”

  Her breath caught. Something was wrong, she could see it in his face. But before he could say more, her father stepped onto the porch. “Who’s out there?” he shouted. “Is it Cameron?”

  Biting back frustration at the interruption, she called back, “No, Dad. It’s Rick Dennehy. He came to let us know Cameron’s at his place.”

  “His place? What’s Cameron doing there?”

  She hesitated, but this time Rick urged her forward. “I don’t know yet,” she said as she led Rick up the steps. “But I’m sure Rick will tell us.”

  Her father looked as if he’d like to say something more. To his credit, he clamped his mouth shut and stepped aside to let them pass, then followed them inside. He crossed the room and lowered himself into his chair without taking his eyes from Rick’s face. “All right, we’re waiting. What’s Cameron doing at your place?”

  Rick glanced at Marti and lifted one eyebrow in silent question.

  She nodded toward the chair opposite her father’s and sat on the couch between them. “What time did Cameron show up at your place?”

  “A couple of hours ago,” Rick said. “But he was so upset, and so insistent that I not call you, I couldn’t let you know until he’d gone to sleep.”

  “You were wise,” she said softly. “If you had called, he probably would have run off again.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  Her father leaned forward. “Why did he leave Gil’s?”

  “From what I’ve been able to piece together,” Rick said, “Gil left almost immediately after you did.”

  Her father’s scowl deepened. “That’s what I don’t understand. Gil said he came home and found Cameron missing. But where did he go?”

  “Where do you think?” Marti couldn’t keep the irritation from her voice. “Where does he always go? The Lucky Jack. And he probably went home with some woman after they closed.”

  Henry started to shake his head, but Rick spoke before he could say anything. “Cameron says that Gil didn’t tell him where he was going. He says his dad was dressed to go out, and that he said they could talk about everything in the morning.”

  “Then, why didn’t Cameron just stay put?” her father demanded. “It doesn’t make any sense to me. No sense at all.”

  Rick glanced at Marti, and the same expression she’d seen outside crossed his face now. “Apparently, he started thinking about the past.” He paused, drew in a long, slow, steadying breath and flashed another glance at Marti. “Did you know Cameron thinks it’s his fault you and Gil got divorced?”

  The words stunned her and everything inside grew numb. “His fault? Why?”

  Rick glanced down at his hands. He seemed to be struggling with himself, perhaps deciding how to explain.

  “Why?” Marti asked again, but the room felt suddenly very far away, and the moment almost surreal.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Henry mumbled.

  Rick met Marti’s gaze, and she could see something odd lurking behind his eyes. “He told me about the night his sister was born.”

  “Chelsea?” Marti’s breath caught painfully in her chest. “But what...” Words raced through her mind, but she couldn’t seem to get them out. She’d tried so hard not to think about that night, and she’d convinced herself Cameron’s silence meant he’d done the same. “Why did he tell you about that?”

  “Because he thinks he’s responsible.”

  No. The word echoed in her mind, but she couldn’
t seem to say it aloud. How could Cameron think that? He’d been a child—just ten years old. He was still a child, for heaven’s sake.

  Her father jerked out of his seat and paced toward the fireplace. “Responsible for what?”

  “For his sister’s death,” Rick said. “For not getting help in time.”

  Tears filled Marti’s eyes and a lump blocked her throat. Her hands trembled and she had to plant them on the couch cushions to hold herself up. The truth was, Cameron had saved her life by calling for help.

  Her father snorted in response. “Nonsense.”

  “He was ten years old,” Marti whispered. “He did everything he could. But nobody could have saved Chelsea.” She tried to pull herself together, to push away the memory of that horrible night as she had so many times in the past, but this time it wouldn’t leave. She remembered the pain, the blood, the horror on Cameron’s face. She remembered how he’d cried and begged her to be all right.

  Familiar anger coiled around the helpless anguish that always came with thoughts of Chelsea. Gil should have been there with them. He should have put his family first for once. If he had, Cameron wouldn’t have blamed himself.

  The marriage had been faltering for at least two years before that, but Chelsea’s death and the blame she and Gil had heaped upon each other had ultimately led to its end. Surely Cameron remembered that. Surely he remembered all the arguments. How could he think he was responsible?

  “For heaven’s sake,” Henry said. His voice sounded gruff, but this time, Marti recognized the emotion behind it. “If he hadn’t called when he did, Marti might have died along with the baby. He knows that.”

  “No,” Rick said firmly. “No, he doesn’t. He thinks he waited too long. He’s convinced that if he hadn’t let his sister die, you and Gil would be happy together. That’s why he’s been so determined to get you back together. He’s trying to make everything right again because he thinks it’s his fault everything went wrong.”

  Marti felt the room slipping away and Rick’s voice fading into unreality, as if he were on the other side of a thick wall.

  “That’s nonsense,” her father insisted. But Marti could barely hear him over the sound of her internal voice crying out denial.