Nothing extravagant, certainly. A book? Too easy. And then it came to him. While Alessi watched The Bishop’s Wife with Dave and Ben and their respective lady friends, he drove once again to Phyllis Bartle’s house.
Debbie met him at the door with a smile, but no hugs or patting followed.
“Hi, Debbie. Is your mom home?”
“Sure.” She scooped up the pug and started down the hall. The other two dogs, a shepherd mix and a tawny mutt, bounded over and sniffed him. By their breath, he guessed they’d just eaten something he’d rather not know about.
Phyllis was in her sewing room, machine whirring and piles of fabric cut in small squares all around her, like the peasant daughter in Rumpelstiltskin trying to spin gold from heaps of straw. She looked up.
“Steve, I don’t have that gal’s car.” He smiled. “I didn’t think so.”
“What brings you back, then?”
“Angels.” He looked at the shelves around the walls, stuffed with cloth angels in myriad colors. Some wore little country dresses; some were lace and ribbons. Some had tiny wigs, others yarn hair, and a few were topped with something that looked like dried grass. “I’d like to buy one for Alessi for Christmas.”
Phyllis stopped the machine. “Take your pick. I’m making a delivery tomorrow and those shelves will be bare.”
She sold very well out of a gift shop in Chambers City, and he was glad he’d caught her before she took this batch out there. But looking at the dozens and dozens of angels on the shelves, he froze. How did he know what Alessi would prefer? Phyllis started the machine again, unconcerned by his inertia.
Debbie set down the pug and walked over to the shelf beside the window. She took down an angel in stiff white fabric with thin lacy wings. Her hair was shiny strands of curling golden thread and her face had sweet, painted features. Debbie handed it to him, and he touched the halo made of twisted gold wire.
“She’s my favorite,” Debbie told him. “Give her to Alessi.”
Steve cradled the angel in his palms. Yes, it was a good choice. And he had no doubt Debbie knew who it was meant for. He smiled. “Thank you.”
“Eighteen dollars,” Debbie said.
More than he’d intended to spend, but Phyllis and Debbie lived on the proceeds from their angels. He took out a twenty. “You keep the change for helping me choose.”
Debbie smiled broadly. “Thanks.” She folded the angel in tissue, then put it in a paper bag. Steve left there, certain he had exactly the angel that was meant for Alessi.
Steve was still out when The Bishop’s Wife ended, but Alessi had her key, so she headed for the store. If the moon was there, it was muffled in thick wooly clouds and gave sulky light at best. Good thing she knew the way.
The warmth and joy of the old movie stayed with her. She imagined the ice rink with strings of white bulbs and the angel Dudley making everyone a great figure skater. She laughed at how easily they believed it was their ability. If you didn’t recognize the magic, you could get conceited. Like the princess who refused to marry the frog in East of the Sun, West of the Moon. She sure paid for that mistake.
She crossed the intersection where the streetlight showed the heavy sky with no stars breaking through, passed Hawkeye Gifts, then turned into the narrow alley to go in through the back of Bennet’s. The tiny lot was dark and silent, her steps in the snow the only sound. Not even the cloud blanket took the edge from the cold. It would probably snow soon. And like anything else that came too regularly, it was losing its magic.
She had the key ready when she reached the door. She inserted it. A sound like wind, and she was struck and engulfed by cold; shocking, stunning, soaking cold. Gasping for breath, she looked up through dripping hair. A blazing light glared, sending needles to her brain.
She raised an arm to fend it off, seeing nothing but orange spots behind her eyelids. She jerked the door open and flung herself inside, slamming it and panting and shaking so hard she thought her teeth would come loose from their sockets. Her spine stiffened and trembled at once, causing spasms to connecting tissue.
She pulled Steve’s jacket off, and her wet hair slapped her neck. She stripped the black cable-knit sweater and groped for the blanket on the cot. Her hands were palsied and stiff, and pain shot up her arms. If she ever wanted to know how a coach felt after victory, she knew it now. Only it had been so cold to start with, the icy bath was nothing short of cruel, and she had no victory to soften the blow.
She didn’t have to wonder who did it. The person who had hung her bra was on the roof. He’d waited there for her with his ice-water tub, waited for her to stop beneath him, unsuspecting. He knew the shock would paralyze her. And the light. It was calculated cruelty beyond a rocky snowball.
Alessi grabbed a wad of paper towels and mopped her hair as she headed for the telephone. The skinny directory lay beside it, and she flipped through for the sheriff’s number. He would never get there before the person escaped the roof and fled into the night, but he could see her soaked things and …
Steve’s words came back to her. “You’re the only one who’s seen it. It’s your word alone.” And his telling the sheriff about the other times hadn’t mattered. Cooper Roehr would think she’d soaked herself, set it up to beef her story. No witness. And she’d be dragging him out of bed and creating a disturbance. She hung up the phone and drew the blanket tighter around her. Dragging back to the cot, she stripped her wet jeans and created uncontrollable kinetic energy inside her own skin.
Ben and Dave were taking Mary and Diana home. And what would be the good of troubling them anyway? Whoever did this was gone. They might find his marks in the snow, where he huddled on the roof and even how he got up and down. But there’d been the tire circles, too, and that hadn’t mattered.
She pulled on Steve’s sweats and the dry T-shirt, then squeezed out the wet clothes over the sink. She wasn’t injured. It could have been worse. And from now on she’d use the front entrance. There might not be anyone around, but the light from the intersection gave some illumination at least. And maybe she wouldn’t stay out past dark or go to the house at all after work.
She frowned. It wasn’t right. She should have the freedom to come and go like anyone else. Her shivering increased, and suddenly the word persecuted seemed appropriate after all. But why? What had she done but follow her hope?
Steve went into the house and found the television off and the room empty. He had tucked the little package inside his coat just in case, but no one was home. Or the guys had gone to bed. But as he stood there he heard a car outside. He went to the front door and held it for Ben.
The sky had lowered with clouds, heavy with snow. All day they had fattened, but no snow had fallen. It would be a good one when it came. “Got Mary home?”
Ben nodded.
“Did you or Dave run Alessi back?”
Ben pulled off his jacket. “She went herself, as soon as the movie ended. Dave was getting cozy with Diana, and …” He shrugged and reached for a hanger.
Alessi had felt extraneous. Nothing like a fifth on a double date. He shouldn’t have left. Not that it would have been a triple, but it might not have felt as awkward for her. “She walked to the store?”
Ben nodded. “It’s not far.”
It wasn’t. But Steve was not easy about it. He went to the phone and dialed the store. After two rings Alessi picked up. Her greeting sounded shaky.
“It’s Steve, Alessi. I wanted to make sure you made it in all right.”
There was a sound that might have been chattering teeth. “Yes. I did.”
“Everything all right?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
Okay, so his perceptions were poor, but he could swear things were not okay. He waited for something to come into his head. Communication had never been his strong suit. “Are you sure?” The pause was long enough for him to wonder if he’d insulted her. Then she started to cry.
He hung up and took his keys from his pocket. Someth
ing had told him to call; something had made him doubt. He didn’t usually trust his intuition, but in Alessi’s case, he seemed to hit it pretty close. The cold struck him as he got back to the truck, then drove to the store and parked. A wind had come up and bit the back of his neck.
He reached the door and smacked into it with an elbow and forehead as his feet went out from under him. The whole stoop was ice, wet glare ice and what looked like cubes, the sort you bought in a bag. He gripped the knob and pulled himself up.
“Alessi, it’s me,” he said before opening the door.
She was huddled in a blanket, her hair wet and lips a lavender gray. Tears beaded her lashes like dew, but she wasn’t sobbing. She said, “He was on the roof with a bucket.”
More than a bucket by the spread of ice outside. “You saw him?” She shook her head. “I looked up, but he had a light. Really, really bright.”
Steve crouched down and took her hands between his. They were ice-cold and shaking. He chafed them gently. “You’re freezing.”
“I’m getting warmer.”
“You should come back to the house.”
“No.”
So that was still a stubborn point. She did not want to be scared off. But this was more than scaring. He’d started with a snowball, teased her with the bra, and scared her with the mask two nights ago. You could call those pranks, but this had progressed past taunting. “It’s gotten physical. I’m not sure you’re safe.”
“I have a right to be here.” Her face pinched with pain and indignation. “It might be nothing more than my own little corner and my own little chair, but can’t I ever have my own place, somewhere I belong?”
“Yes.” Steve cupped her hands and blew on them. “But I want you safe.” More than she wanted what mattered to her? She had admitted wanting her car back; now she wanted a place to belong. But what if both those things made her a target?
She sniffed. “Could you set the alarm?”
He looked at the door and sighed. “I guess I could.” Why this person had targeted Alessi, he didn’t know. Maybe for no reason except that she was new. And alone. “But I wish you’d come back with me.”
“I’m sure he’s long gone. He probably expected me to call the sheriff.”
“Did you?”
She shook her head. “I’m not stupid.”
He set her hands into her lap but kept them covered with his. “Could it be someone you know? Someone who followed you with a grudge?”
“The one who ditched me?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She slipped a hand free and pulled the blanket closed around her neck. “If anyone took the trouble to follow me here, that’d be the most attention I’ve had in years.”
Steve sat back on his heels. “But is there anyone at all?”
Alessi shook her head. “I’ve had friends most of my life. The only people who hated me were kids in high school, and they’re all off at their private colleges making something of their lives.” She didn’t say it bitterly, just another case of the way it was. “It’s no one I know.”
He’d have to take her word for that. She didn’t seem to be shivering as badly now, and he would set the alarm. Whoever had soaked her had probably run off and wouldn’t mess with her again that night. And in spite of the fact that she had little more than two outfits and some personal hygiene items, she seemed to consider his storeroom home. “You sure you’ll be okay here?”
“I’d be naïve to say yes, but I swing a mean mailer.” She almost smiled.
He had to admire her spunk. And that spunk was one of the things that made him look to her lips with anticipation. He’d better get moving. “I’ll set the alarm.”
That might be the most he could do in reality, but all night he dreamed of keeping her warm.
Twenty-Seven
SLESSI WOKE UP SHIVERING from what patchy sleep she’d managed. The dream images were all too fresh; that monsterish head leering at her through the window, the glass shattering as the car burst through on an icy wave that engulfed and stole her breath. She shivered again. Didn’t Steve heat the store? She blew out her breath in a cloud.
Something was wrong. It had not been this cold the other nights. Even the extra blanket was little help. She climbed off the cot, tugging the blanket with her, and shuffled out into the store. Pale daylight spilled in through windows etched with fronds and swirls of ice. Enchanted, Alessi went to the front and studied the designs, such intricate, lacy crystals turning plain glass into magical mirrors. Beautiful!
She could not attribute it to Jack Frost. He always seemed menacing in pictures and poems. This was too beautiful, too wondrous. Angel breath. Angels had breathed on her windows last night; angels watching over, guarding her.
Outside, the wind coughed gusts of snow from roof and street, tossed it against the glass, and she realized the sound had played a part in her dreams, howling and moaning. She pulled the blanket tighter to her throat, but she’d been safe and guarded. “Sleep my child and peace attend thee, all through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night.”
She hadn’t thought of her mother’s favorite lullaby in a while, but it came to her so clearly now she could almost hear Mom’s voice. The ceramic tiles chilled her feet, and she went back to the storeroom and flicked the light switch. Nothing. The power must be out. No wonder it was so cold.
She dropped the blanket and dressed, shaking with chill. The black sweater was crisp and cold where she’d hung it, but the beige turtleneck and white mohair would be warm, and she put on the dark green pants and two pairs of socks. Her teeth chattered as she brushed them and washed her face. She used the last of the paper towels.
Was it too early to head over to the house? The wall clock had stopped near three. If it was too early, she could sneak through the kitchen door without waking anyone. Steve’s jacket was damp and frigid but would have to do against the wind. She should have bought gloves at Wal-Mart. She blew on her fingers, then zipped the coat and spun at the sound behind her.
Her heart thumped, but it was only Steve coming through the door. She smiled to cover the panic she was sure he hadn’t missed. “Hi.”
“Good morning.” His breath pooled in the air.
“Is it as early as it looks?”
“Seven-thirty.”
Later than she thought. She was glad she’d dressed and washed up.
“You must be freezing.”
She shivered on cue. “I used the last of the paper towels. Do you have another roll?”
“Forget the paper towels.” He jerked his chin toward the back door. “Let’s get out of here.” He opened the door to a gusting cloud of ice crystals, then closed it again. “It’s nasty out. Here.” He pulled the scarf from his neck and wrapped it around her face.
“Thanks.”
“Ready?” His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, as though it were an adventure. Maybe the weather reminded him of Alaska.
Mush, Alessi, mush. “I’m ready.”
He opened the door again, ducking his head. “Get in the truck. It’s running.”
With the damp jacket in the wind, she didn’t argue. She ran for the truck and climbed into the cab that was as toasty as a mouse nest in a furnace room. She shook off the cold and basked.
He climbed in behind the wheel and shut the door. “Whew!”
She blew on her fingers. “Is the house warm?”
“Power’s out all over Charity. Wind probably took something down.” He put the truck in gear. “But Ben’s got a kerosene heater.”
“Can’t we light a fire? In your fireplace?”
He pursed his lips. “I guess we could. Hadn’t thought of it.”
“Don’t you use your fireplace?”
He pulled out of the back lot. “We haven’t.”
Alessi dropped her hands to her lap. “I do not understand men.”
He grinned. “I had a wood-burning stove in Anchorage.”
“Well, t
hat’s something.”
“I know how to light a boy-scout pyramid.” He pulled out onto the street.
She laughed. “Do you have any wood?”
“No. But Ben has those prefab logs at the station.”
The gusting snow was blinding. She could see nothing through the windshield. He stopped until it passed, then pulled forward slowly. This snow was not magical. There was a threatening element that chilled her in spite of the cab’s warmth. “Do you think it’ll keep falling?”
“It’s not snowing much. Just blowing what got dumped last night.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“The snow expert.” He caught her knee in his palm, then let go.
Alessi stared at the place as though she’d find a handprint. Every time he’d grabbed her elbow or squeezed her hand it was as though his touch sank inside her. It was strange and scary. People had come and gone in her life like characters in a book. She never shut them out, but she knew not to get attached. Now it seemed Steve left his mark with every brush of his fingers.
He stopped outside the station. “Stay here where it’s warm.”
“Then here.” She took the scarf from her neck and wrapped it around his, tucking it into the front of his leather bomber.
“Thanks.” He climbed out and hurried for the station. He unlocked the door and went inside, then made several trips to the truck bed, arms filled with packaged logs. He staggered against the blasts of wind, until he finally got back in with her. “Think that’ll do? It’s all Ben had in stock.”
She laughed. “I think it’ll be plenty.”
He looked at her a long minute before putting the truck in gear and backing away from the station. He pulled around to the house and parked. “Go ahead in. I’ll get the wood.”
“I can help.” The wind caught her breath away with icy malice as she jumped down. It was like a giant frozen respirator blasting in and sucking out. But she hurried around to the bed and loaded up with paper-wrapped logs.
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