Making Spirits Bright

by Fern Michaels

  And his illustrations could mirror life in a beautiful way. He could sketch a face, then make it whimsical or sad. And when he put color on a canvas, Sam could open up the world as quick as you’d crack a walnut. Yeah, Sam had the ability to make a wonderful sign for the shop.

  But having grown up with three brothers, she knew that a guy like Sam didn’t want to hear about his great qualities. So, instead, she said, “There’s one of your achievements I’ll never forget, Sam. Weren’t you the guy who had twenty pizzas delivered the day of graduation practice?”

  “That was you?” Tommy spun around. “Nobody told me that.”

  “You know, that may have been my ten minutes of fame.” Sam snorted. “My ma was pissed when the principal sent her the bill. Two hundred bucks, but it could’ve been two million back then.”

  Just then the garage went dark and the radio died.

  “Lights out,” Sam said.

  “Must be the wind,” Tommy said as he scuffled in the pitch black.

  From inside the house came the dramatic screams of children, followed by the laughter of adults.

  “You’d think we never had a power outage before,” Jo said.

  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she sensed her brother moving at the workbench. A moment later, the beam of a flashlight shot to the far wall of the garage. “We got two flashlights here. You guys take one and I’ll go inside and help them get the lanterns lit.”

  Jo took the flashlight from him and turned to the Mustang as her brother ducked through the door to the house.

  “You okay down there? You should probably take this light.”

  “Nah. I’m just going to stay put right here where it’s safe and quiet,” he said. “If you want to go back inside, I understand.”

  “Did you hear the screams in there? I’m with you, sticking in here where it’s safe and quiet.” She moved to the side of the workbench, closer to the jacked-up front of the car. The floor gleamed under the beam of the flashlight, so clean you could eat off it. But then, Tommy had a reputation for being finicky clean about his stuff. “So ... how long you been back?” she asked.

  “Not too long. Just a few days.”

  “Shame on you for not calling.”

  “I didn’t think I’d be sticking around, but now it looks like I am. When I ran into Tommy at the grocery store, he told me to head down to help him with the ’stang after dinner. Didn’t know he’d smuggle a turkey dinner into the garage for me.”

  “Tommy’s good that way.” She felt like a teenager playing a stupid game, blindfolded and trying to come up with lame questions. She wished he would come out from under there.

  “So ... when did you get back on the ski patrol at Dare?” he asked.

  “I’m not.” What would make him think that?

  She flashed to the other night on the mountain ... the ski patrol jacket ... the closed trail ... the masked skier.

  “Oh, come on! You were the guy with the mask?”

  “What? I didn’t say that ...”

  She turned to the front of the car and grabbed the fender. “Sam Norwood, I ought to knock this car right off its blocks ... and right now I’m so freakin’ mad at you, believe me, I’ve got the supercharged adrenaline strength to do it!”

  “Calm down. Let’s not get crazy there.” Wheels whirred as the dolly slid out from under the car, but he had moved to the driver’s side, away from her.

  “Do you have any idea how unnerving that was? I thought you were a dead man, going down that ridge ...”

  “I know. I’m sorry. It was a jackass move.”

  “Grrr!” She slammed a palm on the hood of the car and turned away. “You totally spooked me! It was my first time back on skis, and I looked up and I thought you were Shane!”

  “Aw, Jo, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see you there.”

  “Well, I sure as hell wasn’t expecting Shane—or you!”

  The door squeaked open and Tommy appeared, lantern in hand. “What drama queens!”

  Jo felt caught in her flare of anger until she realized her brother was talking about the family inside.

  “The power might be out awhile, and the house doesn’t have a backup ‘genny,’ so Mum and Pop figured it’s a good time to go caroling down the street. The Barrettos are here for the week, and Karen always has homemade cookies for the kids. I told Pops I’d come along.”

  “Okay, then.” Jo could hear the telltale emotion in her voice, but hoped Tommy wouldn’t notice.

  He held the lantern up for a second. “You guys’ll be okay in here, then?”

  “Ay-yeah.” She held up a hand, as if to ward off the light, though truth be told, she didn’t want him to see the fury on her face. “We’re good.”

  “Okay. We’ll be back shortly.” And Tommy was gone again.

  Jo drew in a long, calming breath. “If I promise not to kill you, will you come out from under there and talk to me?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Tommy said you got hurt. I’m sorry about that, but the truth is, I can’t see much of anything in here. I promise to keep the flashlight low if you’ll just come out and sit. I don’t like talking to a car. It’s just too weird.”

  Silence. Then he groaned. “Yeah, okay. But you stay put and turn the flashlight off.”

  “Let me get situated.” She turned an empty crate on its side by the workbench and sat down. “Aren’t you afraid of walking into something? Falling over an engine block?”

  “I know the dark.”

  She killed the light and sat, hugging her arms across her chest as he moved closer. For the first time, she wondered what terrible thing had happened to him in Afghanistan that made him so ashamed to be seen, and a pang of sorrow pinched her heart. Sam used to be a hot-tie; she couldn’t imagine him without those proud, high cheekbones and that sexy square chin. Yeah, back in high school, she’d noticed. Even crazy in love with Shane, she’d still had eyes and a brain.

  Concern for Sam mixed with anger as she felt the air stir beside her. She pulled her knees in, not wanting him to trip over them.

  “You’re okay,” he said, and now the soft moonlight from the garage windows cast enough light to see raw forms in the darkness.

  He stood over her, turned away from her, then slumped down beside her, his back against the workbench. “So what happened in Afghanistan?” she asked.

  “There was an IED. My buddy got killed, and I got all messed up.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend. Are you in pain?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “And you still ski like a champion.”

  “Yeah, but I look like a monster.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you, because that just doesn’t seem right. What do I know? I can’t see you.” Jo wasn’t one to offer false cheer or cling to denial. “But I do know that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. So maybe you don’t look so bad to other people.”

  “Mmm.”

  “What does your mum think?”

  “She’s just glad I survived, but you can’t count on a mother for objectivity.”

  “True.” Jo took a deep breath and let the cool air and familiar smell of engine oil calm her. “I gotta tell you, Sam, I was ready to strangle you a few minutes ago. I can’t believe it was you impersonating Shane that night on the mountain.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be him. Just trying to make some kind of peace with him.”

  “Really? Why would you need to do that? You guys were tight. Shane loved you. He didn’t have a bad word to say about you.”

  “Ay-yeah. He had my back. The problem was, I didn’t have his that night, and I’ve always known it was my fault. I’m responsible for Shane’s death.”

  “Cut it out.” She tapped his arm with the back of her hand. “Everyone knows what drove him up to the top of Dare Mountain. He didn’t want to be a father. He was freaking out over the responsibility, sure his future was going down the tubes. He didn’t want to end up without two nickels to
rub together, and he saw fatherhood as his ticket to poverty.”

  “You’re way too philosophical. It wasn’t his problems that drove him up the mountain that night. It was me. I knew where Les kept the keys to the cable car. I knew how to run it, from working the damned thing through high school.”

  “Sam, everyone knows that part. You helped Shane on his mission, but you didn’t kill him.”

  “Taking a totally wrecked man to the top of a mountain on an icy night?”

  “You didn’t pour the whiskey down his throat, either.”

  Sam bowed his head and raked his hair back in frustration. When he lifted his head, she could make out the angles of his face: the high cheekbones, the strong jaw, the plane of his forehead. In this light, from this angle, he looked perfect. Handsome. Noble.

  He certainly had the potential to break some more hearts.

  “Say what you want about blame and guilt,” Sam said,

  “but I can’t shed the feeling that it was my fault. I’ve been carrying Shane’s ghost on my back like a backpack of bricks. It’s a heavy load, but the body adapts.”

  “I know what you mean.” Jo leaned her chin on her hands. “I’ve always felt that the guilt was all mine. Getting pregnant was an accident, but once it happened, I couldn’t undo it. Shane wanted me to end it, but I couldn’t. I’m so glad I didn’t. I made the right choice, but it may have killed Shane.”

  “You can’t think that way. It’s not your fault that he didn’t man up and deal with it.”

  She pressed a hand to her heart. “Still, the guilt is there.”

  “I’d wrestle you for it, but after the way you tackled me the other night, you might win.”

  “Don’t remind me. I’m still simmering inside about that. What the hell were you doing up there?”

  “Trying to deal with shit.”

  “Yeah, yeah, the ghost on your back and all that. Did you really think you’d accomplish anything up on Dare Mountain on a night like that? Besides getting yourself killed?” She rubbed the softly worn knees of her jeans. “Thank God you didn’t get hurt. I don’t think I can bear another strike on my conscience.”

  “But that’s the thing. Shane wasn’t your fault. Shane was all about Shane, if you didn’t realize that.”

  She turned to stare at him. In the pale shadows, she could barely make out his features, but she felt his sincerity, strong and true, like a weather front that stirs everything up. “He cared about the baby,” she said levelly. “That’s why he felt so bad about it.”

  “He cared about what people thought about him. That was the real issue.” Sam rubbed his jaw, hesitating.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Shane took up with some chick on the Olympic alpine team. Lacey or Lucy, something like that.”

  A few years ago, those words would have injured Jo, but now it was as if she were listening to a story about strangers—some celebrity couple who didn’t have a chance of making it together.

  “Shane was planning to break up with you as soon as Olympic training was over, but once he heard about the baby, he freaked out about how it would make him look bad. He wanted to be a hero, like some White Mountain Superman, and he was afraid that dumping you with a baby would tarnish his image.”

  Jo shook her head, wishing she could shake off Sam’s recollection as a pack of lies, though in her heart she knew it was true.

  She remembered the night their relationship had turned. They’d spent the day hiking at Franconia Notch, near the spot where the Old Man of the Mountain used to be. She had planned to tell him she was pregnant with their baby, but every time she got into the conversation he managed to shift the focus back to his training, the Olympic games, or practicing Italian. At the end of the day, they’d been back at his house, getting ready to go out for pizza, except that Shane couldn’t pull himself away from the mirror in the front vestibule.

  “Do you think I should get a haircut before the Olympics or leave my hair longer?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “I could try some thickening gel. And some of those colored contacts. Have you seen those? They would make my eyes a really intense blue. Unforgettable.”

  She was worried about their child, their future, their finances—and his greatest worry was his reflection in the mirror. When she finally got to tell him about the baby—good news, she thought—he fell into a funk.

  “I’ll help you pay the doctor’s bill to, you know, take care of things,” he’d said gently.

  His calm demeanor had changed when Jo had told him she wasn’t having an abortion. And after that, everything had fallen apart around her.

  “Jo ... I’m sorry.” Sam’s voice brought her back to the chill air and the oil smell of the garage. “I never wanted to tarnish Shane’s memory, but I can’t let you go on thinking you drove him to the edge. Shane contributed plenty to his own downfall.”

  “I should have known.” She shook her head. “But I never suspected ... I didn’t know ...”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, and this time his right hand tapped her knee, a brotherly gesture.

  Jo felt sick with anger, relief, and sadness. She had always thought that Shane’s death was her fault, but, now, learning these circumstances, she wasn’t sure at all.

  “Wow.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure if I should be relieved or pissed off at him all over again.”

  “Relief is probably good for now,” he said.

  “Thanks for telling me the truth.” She squeezed Sam’s fingers. “It’s a huge relief to know the truth after all these years. I feel so wicked calm.”

  He nodded. “Good.”

  “I still don’t get it, though. I would have let him off the hook if he’d asked. I would have raised Ava alone, which is what I’ve ended up doing, with help from the family. But why’d Shane have to go and kill himself? For what? To save face? To be a hero? Yeah. Big hero. People in these parts know his name because he was notoriously reckless. Sad, isn’t it?”

  Sam didn’t answer, but he squeezed back. Jo smiled, grateful for the human touch, grateful for the power outage that had given Sam the courage to get close to her.

  “It’s ironic,” Jo said. “Both of us blaming ourselves for Shane’s death. Both of us carrying around a burden that really doesn’t belong to us.”

  “Thick with irony,” he said.

  “Maybe there really is magic in Christmas; we both get a chance to forgive ourselves.”

  “Let’s not get too crazy.” Sam removed his hand and stood up. “Maybe I’ll try that flashlight. See if I can figure out this problem for your brother.”

  “When do you have to report back?” she asked, hoping she could see him again.

  “I’m supposed to drive down to Concord for physical therapy, but other than that, the army is done with me. Too much damage for them to sew me back together and stick me out in the field again.”

  She rose, hope beating in her chest like a startled dove. “So you’ll be around?”

  “I’ll be around.”

  She turned to him, her arms spread wide. “Thanks.” The hug was friendly, the sort of gesture she would share with one of her brothers. But as she pressed against his chest, the thrall of emotion between them was irresistible. Like a river flowing through a ravaged desert ... a stream of sunlight breaking through pewter clouds after a turbulent storm.

  When he pulled away, she wondered how he could bear to break the connection.

  “I’d better get back to work,” he said.

  “Ay-yeah. Tommy is a taskmaster.” She handed Sam the flashlight, then leaned back against the workbench as he turned away and went around the car, moving smoothly in the darkness.

  The swelling song of the carolers outside told her that the family was back. “I should go. Ava turns into a screaming pumpkin when she stays up too late.”

  “See ya ’round,” he called from under the car.

  “Stop by the shop sometime,” sh
e said. She figured they’d talk again after the dust, nerves, and feelings settled.

  It was something to look forward to.

  Chapter 7

  One week and no Sam.

  Jo frowned at the page-a-day calendar on top of the desk and then let her eyes drop to the angel ornament she had been stringing together with fishing line. Three clear beads, one gold, and now she was ready to tie off the angel’s skirt. These angel ornaments required some concentration, but people seemed to love them. She strung a few more beads, thinking that it would be easier to focus if she had a clear head about Sam.

  Was it stupid to wait for him to call?

  “Maybe I’m being silly,” she said aloud.

  Ava looked up from the book she was coloring on the floor. “Mommy’s silly?” She giggled.

  “Oh, I can be very silly.” And insecure. Maybe she should call him ...

  “Mommy, did Daddy ever meet Santa?” Ava asked, frowning over the reindeer she was coloring.

  “He did. More than once.”

  “Do you believe in Santa?”

  “I am one of Santa’s biggest fans.” Jo looked down at her daughter, adorable in her footy pajamas beside the small tree strung with lights. “You gotta believe.”

  The period of Santa’s magic was so short for kids: At two, they just started to understand it, and, by seven, they were discovering the ruse. For Ava it would be over in a year or two, which was one of the reasons Jo encouraged lots of Christmas traditions like caroling with family, making cookies, taking canned goods to the church, and decorating their own little live tree each year.

  “Sometimes I just wonder,” Ava said sadly.

  Jo tied off the ornament, climbed down to the carpet, and sprawled beside her daughter. “What’s this about?”

  “Why are there so many Santas everywhere? Aunt Molly said there’s one coming to the shop, only he’s not the real Santa.”

  “Hmm. Good point. I guess you could say all the Santas you see around town are helpers.”