“Lydia, you can’t—”
She held her hand up. “No. There is no forgiveness for some things in life. He was right. I tried to live with it, to make amends, but there was no way to do that. No one at school would talk to me, and while my parents were great, I could see that they were hurt by what I had done, as well. So, I left. I did what Mr. Granger told me to do. I took off, and I never came back.”
“Until now.”
She nodded. “I did come back to see Mom before she passed on, and she tried to get me to face up to things. Said the hurt passed with time, but she was wrong. It doesn’t. I saw Ginny in the store the other day, and it was...bad.”
“So that’s what had you so upset.”
“It’s what I deserve. Some things can’t be fixed.”
Ely frowned at the finality in her voice. Whatever the other woman and her family had suffered, he had a feeling Lydia had suffered just as much, punishing herself over the years just as harshly. She felt she had taken her friend’s life—perhaps not literally, but in other ways—away. So she was denying herself any happiness, as well? Was that why she formed so few real relationships? Because she might be happy if she did?
But clearly that had gone on too long.
“I’m so sorry, Lydia, for all of you. But you were a kid, too. You did something foolish, but of course you never meant for that terrible thing to happen. You can’t still blame yourself for it. Very likely no one else does, either.”
“Oh, they do. Believe me. You should have seen her face, and her husband’s face.”
“Her husband? So she married?”
Lydia nodded. “I was surprised, too, but Mom said she was doing okay.”
“Then why beat yourself up so much?”
“Maybe she made the best of it. Maybe she’s even happy now, but that doesn’t change what I did.”
“Seems to me that you’re taking an awful lot on yourself. You made some bad decisions, but we all make mistakes. I saw some terrible things over in Afghanistan, and did some things I may question until the end of my days. I can’t tell you about it, but it eats at me if I let it. I try not to let it. It’s over now.”
“That’s hardly the same. You were defending your country, doing your duty. I was just a horrible person. You know the real crappy thing is that I haven’t changed much. I took off without a word to Tessa, thinking only of my own feelings. Ginny told me the thing I’m best at is taking care of myself, and she’s right.”
“You’d just lost your mother. I think Tessa would understand, and Ginny was out of line, the way I see it. She had a bad break, but she also chose to get up on that horse. And that’s just how it is.”
“I was awful to you, as well,” she said. “I’m a disaster as a friend, Ely. People get close to me, and I hurt them even when I don’t mean to. If you want to go, I understand,” she said.
He shook his head, leaned in, kissing her hair. “I’m not going anywhere. But why would anyone be trying to hurt you now for something that happened over a decade ago? It seems out of proportion, to be reacting this way. Some resentment or angry words, maybe, but not what’s been happening.”
“I don’t know. I can’t think of any other reason anyone would want to hurt me,” she said, sounding exhausted.
“C’mon. Enough for tonight. I’m going to get some stuff I left in the truck and take a shower. You should join me.”
He went outside, and did a little scouting around, just to make sure, before he went back in. Sliding the heavy umbrella stand in front of the door again, he figured it might not keep it shut if someone tried to get inside, but it would make a good crash if someone tried to get in.
Taking her hand and going upstairs, Ely was intent on getting to the bottom of what was happening with Lydia. She’d made a horrible mistake as a teenager, and she had punished herself for it for years—and if someone was trying to drive that lesson home now, he was going to find out who it was, and set the record straight.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, Ely started the day by getting to the home supply warehouse early and replacing not only the lock, but the door, on Lydia’s home. Now it featured a solid fiberglass door with a top-notch dead bolt. There wasn’t much he could do otherwise, and this made him feel like he was doing something to keep her safe.
He hated feeling helpless, he thought as he put both hands around the thick, wood support he had built into the basement underneath the kitchen floor, replacing the beam it joined above, as well. Satisfied with his progress in the last few days, he removed one of the temporary metal supports that he had in place while he worked. All of the rotted supports were switched out now, and replaced with new. It was a relatively easy, inexpensive fix that would make a lot of difference to new buyers.
Lydia had agreed that something had to be done with the windows; replacement wasn’t possible at this point in the season, but he planned to caulk, and he was shocked to find that some of the walls were not insulated. That was a much less expensive fix than new windows, and if she put up insulating curtains, that would help make the place a lot warmer.
He felt good about contributing, and he’d enjoyed the things he’d had to do. In contrast to his bodyguard work, here he got to work with his hands more. When he’d come home from his tour of duty, he picked up with his brothers because it had seemed like the thing to do. They needed him, and he had the skills to do the job they were asking him to do. And he got to be with family. Slam dunk.
But he wondered now, what would he have done if Berringer Bodyguards hadn’t been there? What if he had had to come home and figure out what he wanted to do, instead of sliding into a comfortable slot with his brothers?
Maybe carpentry or construction. Or maybe he would have gone back to college for an architecture degree. He’d thought about that once before joining the Marines, but his call to duty had been too strong back then to follow his own personal desires.
Pondering that, he put his tools away and walked upstairs to the kitchen, hearing a soft curse come from the front room. Heading that way, he found her sitting on the floor, buried, almost literally, in Christmas decorations. She didn’t look happy about it, either.
The organizing for the Winter Festival that would be held in less than a week had begun in earnest. Hammering echoed from the outdoors where a few guys had shown up to start hanging lights around the barns. Lydia looked at the window and muttered something about the noise.
“They’re making such a racket I can’t think,” she said.
“Look at all this stuff. It looks like you just stole Christmas from Whoville,” he said, hoping to make her smile.
No luck. She’d been stressed out to her limit, trying to sort out the house, clearing away the family memories, but also meeting with Faith and Geri about the festival on top of being harassed.
Ely sympathized. If she was feeling grinchy, he couldn’t blame her. The holidays were often harder for people who had just suffered a loss, and Lydia was having to literally throw herself into it, when he knew she would rather avoid it altogether.
He made his way through mountains of garland and other decorations, squatting down close to her, and tipping her face up for a kiss. She returned it half-heartedly.
“You know what you need?”
“What’s that?”
“To blow off some steam,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. They’d blown off a fair bit of steam in the shower the night before, but he never seemed to get tired of being with her.
Though that brought a small smile to her eyes, she said, “I can’t. And I’m not really in the mood. I need to get through all of this before Geri and Faith come over to take inventory on what new things they need to buy, and what was left over from last year.”
“C’mon,” he cajoled, pulling her to her feet and in for a longer kiss. “It won’t take long, but it will be fun. You’ll feel better after.”
She laughed, which he considered an even bigger victory than a smile, and pulled back to look at hi
m. “Way to sell it, big guy. But what the heck. I could use a little warm-up,” she said, desire flickering in her eyes.
She hadn’t mentioned their discussion the night before at all. It was as if she wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, didn’t exist. He went along with that, for now. Though, how to convince her that she shouldn’t be punishing herself for what happened so long ago remained a mystery to him.
He wasn’t sure that was even his role in her life. They had a good physical relationship—mind-bending sex—and he knew she didn’t want more than that, aside from a casual friendship.
That was what he wanted, too. When they went back to Philly, they’d just go on with their lives, and see each other now and then. But for right now, he could try to make things better for her however he could.
“Good girl,” he said, kissing her again as he slung an arm around her and headed toward the door.
“Um, Ely, the bedroom is that way,” she said, gesturing at the stairs. “Not that a bed is necessary,” she added provocatively.
He almost changed his mind, but ultimately stuck with his plan. He knew exactly the kind of adventure that would help get Lydia out of her funk.
Retrieving her coat and gloves from the stand by the door he simply smiled mischievously. “Let’s go outside this time.”
“Are you crazy? It’s freezing out there! We can’t, um, do anything out there. And there are people around.”
He took her hat, tugging it on over her ears and pulling it down. “Trust me. And don’t forget your boots.”
Reluctantly, she did as she was told, following him outside.
He pulled her by the hand toward the barn, and she ran alongside to meet his stride. Catching up with him, she looked both worried, and excited, her eyes darting from the barn to the men who waved as they went by.
“Ely, we can’t...let’s go back inside.”
“We can...c’mon,” he said, urging her along through the barn and out the back door.
Standing there, she looked at him in yet more confusion.
“Behind the barn? In this weather? No way,” she said, starting to turn away to head back in. “Even I have a few limits. Things will...freeze up out here.”
“Just wait a second, wait here,” he said, and took off down the side of the barn.
Ely hit the edge of the building then doubled back into the field a ways, heading back toward the spot where Lydia stood, muttering something he couldn’t hear.
His evil plan in motion, he found a drift that would act as a nice bunker, and picked up some nice fresh snow, packing it into the size of a baseball that he then lobbed through the air—it caught her in the arm, making her jump.
At first, he thought maybe he scared her, and that she thought someone might be bugging her again, but then he saw her eyes narrow, and her hands planted on her hips.
“Ely, where are you?” she called.
He answered with another snowball that hit her in the thigh.
“You’re a pretty easy target, just standing there,” he taunted from his spot in the snow. The sun was shining down and he actually felt warm even with the frigid reading on the thermometer.
“Oh, don’t dare me. You’ll wish you hadn’t,” she threatened, scanning the landscape. Her eyes drifted over him several times.
“I hear lots of talk, but don’t see any action,” he yelled, lobbing yet another snowball that smacked into the barn behind her head.
“Oh, you are so dead,” she hollered and took off running into the field down behind some large mountains of snow that Smitty had piled up with the tractor.
Ely tried to track her progress—he’d chosen the red hat for her on purpose—but she was so small that she easily disappeared behind the snowbanks. After a few minutes of surveying the field, he started to worry she had perhaps gone back inside and abandoned the fight.
And that was exactly what she wanted, apparently.
A banshee yell from behind him had him spinning around, startled, and her attack plan worked. Standing at the top of a drift behind him, she took advantage of his surprise and pelted him with several huge snowballs, pulling them from her pockets like hand grenades. Only a few missed their aim, the last one smacking him directly in the forehead.
Damn, Lydia would have made a good Marine, he thought, putting his hands up and laughing as he defended against the attack. He had no choice but to mount an aggressive counterattack, and gathered up his own ammunition, heading toward her, running directly into her fire, and launching his own five.
Out of ammo, she was laughing hysterically as he tried to climb the mountain of snow that she stood at, scooping handfuls of snow down toward him as he fought his way up the hill. Ely didn’t give up, throwing his snowballs the best he could with the white stuff flying all around him. He was breathless with laughter and the effort of the climb as well once he reached the top.
Lydia clearly knew she was toast and tried to run, but he launched himself forward into the snow and caught her ankle, pulling her down. She landed face-first, as well.
Unmoving, or moving just a little as she pushed one hand down into the snow, she grunted, and Ely’s laughter ceased.
“Crap,” he said, pushing to his feet—no easy task in the deep snow they were mired in, and making his way to her. He had gotten carried away and played too rough, and kicked himself all the way over to where she was still trying to right herself.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, and reached to pull her up as best he could, losing his own balance a bit.
She groaned, as if in pain, and he kicked himself even harder.
“I’m so sorry, honey, I—oof.”
Ely’s words were cut off by a mouthful of snow as she took handfuls and smushed them in his face as if they were a pie, grinning with evil glee.
He’d been had.
Spitting snow, he shook his head as she clapped her hands and laughed even harder.
“Sucker,” she said, doing a wiggly little dance, still on her back in the snow in some semblance of a snow angel. A tricky, sexy, sneaky, gorgeous snow angel. “I win,” she taunted.
Ely smirked as he looked down at her from where he knelt in the snow and fell down in the snow beside her, picking her up and rolling her over on top of him.
“Yeah, I suppose you did,” he said, loving how her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright. Snow clung everywhere to her, like crystals, and she looked young and carefree—the woman borne of the pretty young girl in the photo on the mantel.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so open, so joyful—not even during sex—and it touched him. It touched him deeply.
“What?” she said, studying his face and sensing his change of mood.
“Nothing. Come here,” he said, reaching for her and pulling her down to him.
Holding her tight to him, he found her mouth for a long, warming kiss, touching the tip of his tongue to hers, then exploring deeper as her hands clutched the front of his coat and she sank in.
Ely was aware of the cold snow at his back, and it provided a stark contrast to the heat of her body over him, making him hard in seconds as she moved against him.
“Maybe we should take this inside,” she whispered into his ear.
He nodded, unable to take his eyes off of her, sure he had never seen anything as beautiful as her face right there in that moment.
She pushed up, with his help, and he got to his feet effortlessly, as well. He had a lot of motivation to get back to the house, and didn’t want anything to shatter the magic between them in this instant. He didn’t know what it was, but he hadn’t ever felt anything quite like it.
But that was too much to ask for, as it turned out.
As they made their way through the barn—too wrapped up in each other to notice much of anything else—they failed to spot the extra cars parked over by the garage at first.
“Lydia, there you are,” a voice called from the porch, and Ely looked up to see two women he recognized—plus a few others—eyeing th
em with keen interest.
He imagined they made quite the picture, wrapped around each other, soaked from snow, making their way toward the house.
Faith’s features furrowed in concern. “Are you okay? You guys are wet to the bone. Did you have an accident?”
To his surprise, Lydia laughed.
“Snowball fight. I won.”
The women seemed to not quite know what to do with that information.
“We came over to do inventory, but thought we could also help you start cleaning out a bit, as we agreed,” Geri said.
Lydia stiffened in his hold, broke away, smiling stiffly again and saying the things one would say in such a situation. Of course, thanks for coming, I was just working on decorations, etc. He watched the women file inside and followed, the magic broken.
He wondered if they would ever be able to get it back.
10
ELY HAD TEASED Lydia that she looked like she’d stolen Christmas that afternoon when he had found her surrounded by all of the decorations she had pulled out of the attic, but now she really was feeling like a certified Grinch.
She’d spent hours sorting through garland, replacing lights on broken strands of blinkers, and listening as Geri and Faith, along with Faith’s sister, Julie, and a few others, debated what cookies, treats and activities should be offered.
Lydia was silent as she poked a small blue bulb into the empty socket of the light set she worked on, and watched as Ely worked on windows in the dining room. He had gotten his tools and gone back to his latest task, caulking windows so that when the new insulation was piped in, things would be a lot less drafty. Once he finished that, he’d come over to help them sort through decorations.
Lydia scowled. They could have been upstairs, working off the energy from their snowball war under hot water in the shower or on her bed, but no, here she was playing Santa’s elf instead.
True to their word, though, Geri had brought two of her older daughters who were home from college to help with clearing out what was still in the attic. The young women were bright and charming, and they had been working hard at emptying the space out. They’d been polite and dedicated, asking her what should stay or go and packing boxes that now were stacked in the front entryway, ready to be taken to various charities.
Hers for the Holidays Page 12