Let It Snow

by Sherry Lewis

  “You both know that,” Rick said, “and I know that, but what matters is that Cameron believes it. It’s true in his mind.”

  Odd noises seemed to grow louder—creaks and groans as the house settled, her mother’s cuckoo clock on the mantel, the rustle of her father’s jeans as he paced in front of the fireplace. Marti’s heart turned to lead, her stomach twisted violently and she broke out in a cold sweat. She thought she might be sick, but she couldn’t make herself move.

  “Marti...” Rick’s voice grew a little louder. “Are you all right?” His face floated in front of her, dipping and swaying, and making her stomach lurch.

  She closed her eyes and tried to nod. But it was a lie. She wasn’t all right. She should have talked to Cameron about that night, but it had been so painful for her, she’d been pathetically grateful that he’d never brought it up. She’d locked away her memories and tried to pretend that night had never happened. But she should have seen what the experience had done to Cameron. She should have known.

  She opened her eyes and focused slowly. Rick’s face wavered in front of her for a moment, then seemed to solidify. His eyes, deep and caring and frightened, locked on hers. “Are you all right?” he demanded again.

  She managed to nod, but the movement made her stomach roll again. She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t form the words.

  He sat beside her on the couch and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. When he moved, she saw her father beside the fireplace. His face had lost its color, his hands trembled, and Marti realized that the news had stunned him as much as it had her.

  Rick tightened his hold on her. “Thank God. You’re getting some of your color back.”

  She tried to smile reassurance, but her lips felt stiff and heavy. “I’m all right. I’m just...shocked. I’ve tried so hard to put that night behind me, I didn’t realize Cameron ever thought about it.”

  Her father glared at Rick, at his arm around her shoulders and his nearness on the couch—the very things she needed most. “Why would he tell you about it and not one of us?”

  Rick met his gaze steadily. “I don’t know. We’ve become friends. Maybe he thought he could trust me.”

  Henry’s frown tightened. “Why—”

  Marti interrupted before he could finish. “I don’t care who he told. I’m just glad he finally told someone.”

  She didn’t add how glad she was that he’d chosen to tell Rick. Her father would never understand how much she’d come to care for Rick. How much peace the sight of his face gave her. How much comfort she derived from having him beside her at this moment.

  But right now she didn’t need her father to understand. The only person she needed to worry about was her son. The only person she needed to explain things to was Cameron.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MARTI STOOD outside Rick’s front door, one hand poised to knock, heart hammering with apprehension. Rick’s visit during the early-morning hours had left her too keyed up to sleep. She’d waited as long as she could, lying in bed and watching the sun turn the sky a pale winter gray. Cameron probably needed as much sleep as he could get. By the time she’d finally climbed out of bed, still without sleep, she’d known her emotional reserves were gone.

  She hoped Lynette would still be in her own cabin. She didn’t want to face her again. And she honestly didn’t know if she could survive another rejection from Cameron.

  With her eyes closed, she gulped several deep breaths to steady her nerves and to lessen the pounding in her head. In and out once, twice, three times. Finally, she found the strength to knock on the door.

  It seemed like forever before Rick answered. But some corner of her brain still open to logic told her he’d actually answered almost immediately. He must have. If she’d had to wait, she probably would have let her nerves get the best of her.

  Rick smiled when he saw her, a smile of genuine pleasure that touched her deeply. At least someone was glad to see her. She couldn’t count on the same reaction from Cameron. She let herself enjoy the moment.

  “He’s waiting for you,” Rick said. Simple words, but they struck a chord of fear inside her.

  She tried to force a smile, but her lips felt thick and stiff. “You told him I was coming?”

  Rick nodded and took her arm to lead her inside. “Yes, of course. And he knows that I told you about Chelsea. I wouldn’t make you surprise him. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you.”

  A wave of relief washed through her, and her smile came more easily. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged off her gratitude as if it were nothing. “He’s willing to talk to you, but he’s still pretty upset.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  Rick’s hand caressed her arm. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. After all, he’s your son.”

  “You’ve been right about everything so far.” And his obvious concern for Cameron touched her more than she could say.

  “Only because I have emotional distance. You’re too close. You have too much at stake.”

  He made it sound so easy. But half a dozen counselors had talked to Cameron over the years, and none had gotten to the root of his anger. Within just a few weeks, Rick had pulled confidences from Cameron nobody else had ever been able to.

  “I talked to Gil after you left.” She tried to sound normal, but just thinking about that phone call made her head ache and her hands tremble.

  Rick’s eyes clouded. “He upset you again.”

  “He’s threatening to sue for custody.”

  “Custody? After Cameron ran away from him last night?”

  “He blames me for that, too.”

  “You?” The word exploded between them. Rick shoved his hands onto his hips and paced a step away. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. He’s the one who left a very volatile kid alone. He’s the one who couldn’t even be bothered to see how much Cameron needed someone there with him.”

  “I’m the one Cameron was running from in the first place,” she reminded him. “Cameron was only there because he’d already run away from me.”

  “Right. Because you told him the truth about the crap Gil’s trying to pull with the Lazy M.” He paced again, raked his fingers through his hair, and stopped a few feet away. “What in the hell does he think it will accomplish to sue for custody?”

  Rick’s reaction left her stunned and a little off balance. He seemed almost as upset as she was, herself. She opened her mouth to answer, but he didn’t wait for her to speak.

  “He’s messing with you, Marti. That’s all he’s doing. He’s using Cameron to keep you from pushing him about the Lazy M deal.”

  The truth in his words worked its way up her spine like a slow chill. The throbbing in her head grew worse. Even with all the ugliness there had been between her and Gil, could he really stoop that low?

  Rick watched her, scowling so deeply a ridge formed on his forehead. “We won’t let that happen, Marti. Cameron needs to be with you.”

  We, he’d said. As if he intended to stand beside her in the battle. Some of the heaviness lifted from her heart. His caring made her feel better even though she knew that ultimately it was her battle and she’d have to fight it alone.

  “Thank you.”

  His eyes softened, and he pulled her into his arms. He didn’t say anything, he just held her. He brushed her temple with his lips and heat spiraled through her. She closed her eyes and savored the moment. But she wasn’t here for this, she reminded herself. She had to see Cameron, and she needed to have her head on straight when she did.

  She pushed away from him gently.

  He understood. “Are you ready?”

  She made herself nod. Putting the moment off would only make it worse.

  Still holding on to her, Rick led her through the living room with its huge Christmas tree, past the couch with its rumpled blankets and pillow. She imagined her son lying there, sad, grieving for his sister, blaming himself.

  She aver
ted her eyes, straightened her shoulders and followed Rick to the kitchen door. With one last encouraging smile, he pushed open the door.

  Cameron sat at the table, staring out the window. He’d probably watched her drive across the bridge. He turned to face them as the door opened, and apprehension flickered in his eyes.

  She took a hesitant step toward him. “Are you all right?”

  He made a vain attempt to put on his usual surly expression, but it wouldn’t latch on to his face.

  Rick drew his hand away from her arm and backed off a step. “I’ll leave you two alone. You don’t need me in here.”

  “That’s all right,” Cameron said. “You can stay.” He sounded almost pathetically eager, but Marti didn’t let it offend her. After all, she didn’t want Rick to leave, either.

  Rick shook his head and let the door start to close. “No, this is between the two of you. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

  Marti laced her fingers together and held her hands in front of her. “I’m so nervous, I don’t know what to say.”

  Cameron moved slightly. It might have been a nod of agreement, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “I guess Rick probably told you that he came to see me this morning. He wanted Grandpa and me to know where you were.”

  Cameron stiffened, and Marti guessed he was waiting for her to yell at him for coming here instead of to the Lazy M. She set his mind at ease. “I’m glad you came to Rick’s.”

  He looked away quickly, as if he didn’t want her to see his surprise, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I think it’s time we tried talking to each other, don’t you?” she said.

  He glanced uncertainly at her. “We talk.”

  “Yes,” she admitted, “but not honestly. Usually, I talk at you.”

  He didn’t seem to know what to make of that. Pulling the saltshaker toward him, he began to twirl it on the table.

  She took another step closer. “Sweetheart, I had no idea what was going on inside you. I wish you could have told me, but I understand why you didn’t think you could.”

  He shrugged as if it didn’t matter and used both hands on the saltshaker.

  But this time, she saw through the protective shell. She sat at the table across from him and rested her arms on its surface, barely resisting the urge to do something with her own hands. “Rick says you blame yourself for what happened with Chelsea.”

  Cameron didn’t move, didn’t look at her, didn’t even seem to breathe, but she sensed his apprehension as if it were something tangible.

  She pressed on. “It wasn’t your fault, Cameron. You did exactly what you should have that night.”

  His gaze flicked over her quickly, then returned to the saltshaker. He rolled it between both hands, but his actions were jerky and agitated.

  “Grandpa says you saved my life,” she said. “Did you know that? If you hadn’t called for help when you did, I would have died.” She decided to take a risk and reach for his hand.

  He stiffened, but he didn’t draw away.

  She allowed herself a moment’s hope. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Cameron. Please. Tell me what’s going on inside of you so I can help. Don’t leave me guessing. If you do, I’ll probably say the wrong thing and make it all worse.”

  His gaze shot to her face again. He hesitated, obviously struggling with himself, arguing against giving up the fight, against opening up to her. But she wouldn’t let him hold back. She couldn’t let him if she wanted to help him.

  She tightened her grip on his hand. “I love you, Cameron. I want to help you.”

  This time, his gaze lingered a little longer. “I don’t need help,” he said, but his voice sounded almost plaintive.

  “Maybe not,” she conceded. “But I do. I need to tell you everything about the night Chelsea died. I need to get it out, so will you at least listen?”

  He shrugged, but she thought she saw a spark of curiosity in his eyes and his hand tensed beneath hers.

  She didn’t let herself stop. “That night, things were especially bad. I didn’t feel well. I was huge and bloated and uncomfortable, and I wanted your dad to stay home and help me. I’d gone to your baseball game that afternoon, remember? And out to the ranch to help my mom with something, so I was tired. I begged him to stay home, but he wanted to go to the Lucky Jack. I told him that if he walked out the door, he shouldn’t come back.” She tilted her head and tried to catch his gaze. “Do you remember that?”

  Cameron gave his head an almost imperceptible shake.

  “What do you remember?”

  He stayed silent so long, she feared he wouldn’t answer. But after a moment, he let a few, halting words slip out. “I remember you sitting at the bottom of the steps crying.”

  “What else?”

  “I remember you screaming. And I remember blood.”

  “But not until later, right? And do you remember that as soon as you saw it, you called for help? You did everything you could, Cameron.”

  He nodded slowly, and uncertainty filled his eyes.

  She leaned forward and touched his cheek with her other hand. “Cameron, none of it was your fault. Not what happened to Chelsea. Not the divorce. Your dad and I just aren’t suited to one another. We want different lifestyles, and neither of us can give what the other needs to be happy. The marriage would have ended, even if Chelsea had lived. It was already in shreds.”

  She waited for him to say something—anything—that would let her know he understood this last part. But he looked away again, his shoulders sagged, and he pulled his hand from hers.

  Standing quickly, he paced to the window.

  “Cameron, please—”

  He spoke, but he didn’t look at her again. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Please leave me alone.”

  Marti struggled not to let her hurt show. She realized Cameron needed time to think about what they had discussed.

  She still had no way of knowing whether she’d reached him. She’d given it her best; now it was up to Cameron. Please God, she hadn’t waited too long. Please God, she hadn’t lost him forever.

  CAMEROON WATCHED his mom’s reflection in the glass. She stood, hesitated as if she might touch him for a minute, then turned away. He thought about saying something, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to think, or even how he felt.

  She’d never talked to him that way before—like an adult. Like she was telling the truth. He didn’t want to believe what she’d said about his dad, but her eyes had looked different this time—sad, the way they used to look when he was a kid.

  He listened to the door close behind her, to the rumble of Rick’s voice talking to her. Rick liked her, Cameron could tell. He didn’t know what he thought about that, either. He liked Rick—a lot. And every once in a while, when he and Rick were working together, he wondered what life would be like if Rick was his dad. But that didn’t mean he wanted his mom to get together with him. Not at all.

  He shifted his gaze to his own reflection, sighed and rubbed his forehead. His head hurt, and he was still tired from walking so far in the cold last night. He didn’t want to spend another night on Rick’s couch, but he sure as hell couldn’t go back to his dad’s. Not now. His dad had probably flipped out when he found the hole Cameron had put in the wall. And Cameron wouldn’t be able to explain to his dad what had happened. His dad wouldn’t get it.

  The thought made him stop rubbing his forehead. He looked outside at the snow-covered trees and frowned. He loved his dad. So why could he talk to Rick about stuff he couldn’t tell his dad? It seemed stupid. But, then, everything he did seemed stupid. Wasn’t that what the counselors that his mom kept dragging him to see had said? That he was stupid? Maybe not in those exact words, but that’s what they’d meant.

  They talked about accepting responsibility, and making wise choices, and “owning” his actions.

  At first, he’d wanted to get to his mom because she’d acted as if she had n
othing to live for after Chelsea died. But she had him, didn’t she? Didn’t she? Except that he wasn’t enough for her. She only cared about losing Chelsea. Cameron hated the way she picked on him all the time, and the way she was never satisfied with what he did. Nothing about him was good enough for her. That’s why he pretended not to care about her—because deep down inside, he knew she didn’t care about him.

  Hot tears burned his eyes. He wiped most of them away with his sleeve and blinked quickly to get rid of the rest. He didn’t care. That’s what he’d been telling himself, and that’s what he’d keep telling himself.

  He just wondered if he’d ever believe it.

  RICK WORKED a thick wool sweater over his head and glanced outside his bedroom window at the gathering darkness. Any minute now, the sleigh would arrive. Any minute now, Marti would pull up in front of the cabin. His heart beat faster at the thought—it had taken some doing to persuade her to come. But Rick was sure it was the right thing to do. Maybe it would bring her and Cameron back together again.

  He listened to Cameron moving around in the guest room. After that first night two days before when Cameron had fallen sleep in the living room, Rick had told him to move into the spare bedroom.

  Cameron should be home with Marti for Christmas. Not that Rick minded having the kid around. In fact, he kind of liked having the company. He found himself growing closer to the kid every day. But Cameron wasn’t his son. He belonged with Marti, and Rick knew how much it hurt her to have him staying here.

  A noise outside drew his attention to the window again. This time, Lynette and Tom stood in front of the house, Kendra and Ashley stood a little way off watching four horses pull the sleigh into the clearing. A minute later, Marti’s car rounded the last stand of trees before the parking area.

  Tonight wouldn’t be easy on any of them. Cameron and Marti had their problems. Rick was going to have to keep his feelings for Marti in check, and Lynette... Lynette would have to accept Marti’s presence and the fact that she couldn’t keep her sister’s memory alive by pretending that Jocelyn and Rick had had a perfect marriage and that Rick would never look at another woman.