Christmas Magic

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Christmas Magic Page 17

by Andrea Edwards


  In a matter of minutes, the area had been filled with police officers, emergency crews and a zillion reporters. The crash had been spectacular, and lots of pictures—still and video—were being taken of his vehicle and the getaway truck. Mike was only too happy to deal with the perps, getting them under restraint and arranging for their secured transport to a local hospital, while others dealt with the media. He’d had enough of that last year after he’d rescued the kids.

  “How’d we do?” Mike asked.

  His sergeant shrugged. “Could’ve been worse. Garvey from Dowagiac should be released tonight. Bullet just grazed his arm. Manning’ll be out a little longer. He spun out on some ice on a curve and wrapped himself around a big tree.”

  Mike winced. “How bad?”

  “Stable,” the sergeant answered. “He’s in surgery now.”

  Mike shook his head. “Damn. Him and Colleen just had a baby last month. This is going to be really hard on her.”

  “Comes with the territory,” the sergeant growled.

  Mike knew that, but during times like this he was happy he was single. He could handle his own hurts, but he sure as hell didn’t want to dump them on anyone else.

  “You got a ride home?”

  “Yeah,” Mike replied. “Ed’s taking me.”

  “Good.” The sergeant grunted. “Guess you’re back on vacation for a few days. We’ll try and get you a new cruiser by early next week.”

  “That’s fine.”

  After a quick wave, the officer stomped off toward his own car, shoulders slumping. Mike was glad to stay behind. All he had to do was get the mess cleared off the road. Just broken cars, not wrecked bodies or wrecked lives.

  At times like this he knew it’d been right to let things between him and Darcy wither and die. Poor kid had been a basket case by the time she’d been delivered to the hospital that was patching him up after he’d pulled those kids from a burning car. Mike hadn’t even been hurt all that much—a little bit of ointment, some bandages, some rest and he’d been as good as new.

  Hell, if he’d been really hurt who knew what might have happened. She could have gone off the deep end, and he knew he wouldn’t have been able to live with that. Going the trail alone was a bit lonely at times, but loneliness was better than carrying a basketful of guilt.

  “All set to roll?”

  Mike started slightly at Ed Kramer’s words. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  “Want to go say goodbye to your cruiser?” Ed asked.

  “Sure.”

  They walked through the packed snow over to the scene, where several news cameramen were still milling about, but the two of them stayed back out of the cameras’ range. Mike’s cruiser had already been flipped back on its wheels and was getting readied for hauling to the police impoundment lot.

  “Wow,” Ed exclaimed.

  Mike just shook his head. Totaled didn’t even come close to describing the condition of his car. The whole left side. was so pushed in that the car looked like a slice of toast, and rolling over in the ice and mud a few times hadn’t improved its appearance any. It didn’t look like the wrecker would even be able to scavenge parts out of it.

  “Boy,” Ed said with a laugh. “And you don’t have a scratch on you.”

  “Helps not to have been in the thing when it got hit”

  “Yeah, better to be lucky than smart.”

  “Amen,” Mike replied.

  They stood watching as the pile of metal was loaded on a wrecker van, then Ed tapped him on the arm. “Come on, sport. Time to go home.”

  Neither spoke much on the ride back to Berrien Springs. For Mike, it was a time to unwind and catch his breath. The day had been wild, hectic, and he was looking forward to a quiet evening.

  He’d tell Casey about the chase over dinner. She’d get a kick out it, especially when he admitted that going to get the Christmas tree at that tree farm had made the difference. If he hadn’t driven around their private roads that day, he would never have known how to cut those perps off. Of course, by telling her, he was running the risk of never hearing the end of it, but he thought it would be worth it.

  “Looks like you have company,” Ed said as he turned onto Mike’s street. Cars were spilling out of his drive and down the street on either side of his house.

  “Who the…” Mike stopped. Chuck Freeman’s van was there and so was Stan Kovac’s car. It was neighbors and folks from town. “What are they all doing here?”

  Ed shrugged. “They were probably worried about Casey.”

  “Why?”

  “Your car was totaled and you’re asking why? Probably half the town is planning your funeral.”

  “But I wasn’t interviewed. Nobody mentioned my name. Why’d they all assume I was involved? It could’ve been any state cop.”

  “Maybe the cameras caught your car number.”

  “Yeah, but…” Hell, this shouldn’t have happened. There was no reason for it to. He’d been doing his job and had been in no more danger than a bunch of other cops, less than some. Now Casey was probably a basket case with worry.

  Ed pulled into the driveway and people started spilling out of the house, lining the driveway and filling the yard.

  “You should’ve left your gumballs off,” Mike growled. The car’s mars lights were splashing the snow-covered ground with spots of red and blue. “Everybody’s probably thinking you’ve come to announce the bad news.”

  “Just bringing the hero home.”

  “I was doing my job,” Mike snapped. “Like any other cop would have.”

  “Sure.”

  Mike stepped out of the car and into a chorus of cheers from his neighbors. He shook the hands extended toward him and murmured thanks, while all the time his eyes searched the crowd. Where was Casey?

  “Daddy.” Tiffany jumped into Ed’s arms, then slipped back to the ground. “I can put the scanner back real easy, but I’ll need your help with the battery. It’s really, really heavy.”

  Mike looked questioningly at Ed, but the big burly cop just shook his head. “I never ask,” he said. “It’s a lot easier on my nerves if I don’t know.”

  Mike just smiled, then went on searching the crowd for Casey. Where was she? She wouldn’t have left, would she? A cold hand of fear clutched at his stomach. That wouldn’t make any sense. She wouldn’t just up and go without telling him. Unless, of course, everybody coming over here had made her so worried that she couldn’t take it.

  He continued to smile and receive well wishes from his neighbors, but his heart felt frozen.

  * * *

  From the living-room window, Casey watched Mike get out of Ed Kramer’s car, trying to keep tears of relief from her eyes. That would be a great way to welcome Mike home—rush to his arms in tears. Boy, if there was anything destined to end this relationship in a split second it would be that. And the last thing Casey wanted to do was end the relationship.

  It was a disheartening realization. Casey knew it as clear as day the minute Mike had stepped out of the police car: she was in love with him. She hadn’t planned it, didn’t want it, but facts were facts. She was in love.

  She wanted to run out and make sure he was fine. She wanted to get him in the house and ask him what the hell had happened to his car. She wanted to scold him, to hold him, to shake some sense into his macho body. She wanted lots of things, but knew that she couldn’t get any of them. Not if she showed the slightest hint of having been worried.

  She steadied her heart and took a deep breath as she put Gus’s leash on. “What do you say, Gus? Ready to go out?”

  Gus had been ready for ages. It was Casey who had been dragging her heels, but he politely refrained from pointing that out. She tugged open the front door and was waiting when Mike got to the front steps. He looked so good, so unaffected that she wanted to cry again. But then his gaze stopped on her and she saw the light of gladness in his eyes. She forced herself to be bright and cheery.

  “Hi,” she said. “Heard you had
an exciting day.”

  “I guess.” He grinned before bending down to pet Gus. He scratched the dog’s head for a moment, then looked back up at Casey. “I thought maybe you’d be gone.”

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  “Home.”

  There’d been a tremor in his voice, some emotion she couldn’t quite name, but it touched a spot deep in her soul. She just shook her head and fought against the tears again. She could do it. She had to do it.

  “And leave Gus here with this mob?” She smiled at Mike as she waved to the people watching them. “They would have smothered him with their worrying.”

  His lips smiled at her, but his eyes took on a shadow. “How are you?” he asked.

  “Gracious, I’m fine,” she assured him.

  Her arms ached to touch him, her lips begged to brush his, but she just kept her smile bright and her voice cheery.

  “Got lots done at the library today,” she added.

  Suddenly she thought of her last discovery—her mother’s name—and wondered just when in the afternoon it had become so unimportant. She’d forgotten all about it. And it could stay forgotten, she realized.

  “And how are you?” she asked.

  “Fine,” he said. “Car’s not so good, but I’m fine.”

  “When you gonna kiss her?” someone called out.

  “Yeah, let’s see a real welcome.”

  Casey managed to smile at everyone. Her definition of heaven would be to be in Mike’s arms right now, but not as a joke. Her emotions had walked a tightrope all afternoon and were starting to wobble pretty badly. She wasn’t sure what even his slightest touch would do.

  “Come on, everybody,” she said. “Give Mike a break. He’s tired.”

  “Too tired to kiss a pretty girl?”

  “No man’s ever that tired.”

  “No real man.”

  Mike’s eyes took on a dangerous twinkle. “They’re getting unruly,” he said, moving a step closer. “This could get ugly.”

  She tried to play along. “We must do whatever’s necessary to preserve the peace.”

  “That’s my sworn duty.”

  He reached out for her and she came into his arms. She couldn’t help herself. All the worry that had been piling up all evening came rushing out in her kiss. She clung to him, afraid to let him go. She needed to tell him she was so glad he was safe. That she never wanted him to be in danger again. That she couldn’t have borne it if something had happened to him.

  But she couldn’t say any of it in words—he wouldn’t let her—so it all came out in her kiss. In the demands of her lips and the hunger of her touch. Her arms held him close; her heart pulled him closer still. She wanted to hold him completely, to keep him safe within her so that she never stared that fear in the face again.

  But then a noise reached her, a movement off to her side stirred the realization that they weren’t alone. She pulled back from him slowly, trying hard not to gasp for breath or let her knees give out. After a moment, she was able to turn to the crowd around them and smile.

  “Well, are you all satisfied?”

  “I bet Mike ain’t,” someone called out.

  “Takes more’n that to satisfy a man.”

  “A real man, that is.”

  Casey felt her cheeks begin to flush, but she held her smile firmly in place. She absolutely refused to look at Mike.

  “Let’s get inside before we freeze to death,” she said. “We can make a start on all the food.”

  “Oh, not me,” someone said.

  “I’ve got to see to the family.”

  “It’s my bowling night.”

  One by one, they trickled off to their cars or walked down the street to their houses.

  “Boy, I sure know how to clear a room, don’t I?” Casey said.

  Mike just watched her, almost holding his breath for her real thoughts to come out now that everyone was gone. She just went on into the kitchen. He followed slowly.

  “You know, it’s almost funny,” she said. “I was just sitting here, trying to figure out what to have for dinner, when Mrs. Kinder came over, and then half the town, I think. And they all brought food. We have enough casseroles and salads to last through New Year’s.”

  “How’d they all know?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the kitchen table.

  She shrugged and pulled open the refrigerator. “It was all over the TV. What do you have a taste for—chicken or tuna casserole?”

  “I don’t care. Chicken’s fine.”

  “Sounds good.” She put the casserole on the counter. “I’m sure it’s still on the news, if you want to see it.”

  “Not really.”

  She made a face. “Me, neither. Been there, done that,” she added with a laugh.

  “Was my name mentioned?”

  “Nope. They showed your car.” She put the casserole into the microwave and fiddled with the settings. “I guess your car number showed up—3984?”

  “Nope—9348.”

  “Whatever.”

  She seemed a touch hyper, he thought, but it didn’t have to mean anything. It certainly didn’t have to mean she’d been worried. Maybe she got hyper around crowds. Or over chicken casserole.

  “Want me to set the table?” He got up and walked over to the silverware drawer.

  “You don’t—” She turned and bumped right into him. “Oops.”

  But then she looked up at him and he looked down into those green eyes and she was in his arms. His lips came down on hers and spring burst out all around them. The tensions of his day disappeared. The fears, the hecticness, the surges of adrenaline—they all vanished in the blink of an eye. In the touch of her lips.

  He could feel her peace flow over him, washing away the hard edge from his job even as a slow fire began to spark inside him. He pulled her closer to him. Closer and closer and closer still as his mouth drew hungry breaths from hers.

  She kissed him back with a fervor that surprised him, but just for a moment. That fire grew, engulfing all rational thought, all power to think. Her lips were all he knew. The softness of her pressed against him was all he felt. The sound of her heart pounding in time with his was all he wanted.

  Then the microwave buzzed.

  They pulled apart slowly, reluctantly. The air was charged with their passion. The slightest movement, the merest touch would ignite it.

  The stupid buzzer kept ringing.

  “I guess it’s time to eat,” Casey said with a trembling laugh.

  “I’d better get the table set.”

  While she took the casserole from the microwave, he pulled silverware from the drawer, dropping the forks like a klutzy junior-high kid on his first date.

  “You okay?” she asked him.

  No, he was burning with a fever that was of her making. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just coming off my adrenaline high. Makes me a little light-headed.” He thought that sounded pretty good. Better than that he was horny.

  She looked concerned, though. “Maybe you should sit down. I can set the table.”

  “I’m fine. Honest.” He got clean forks out without dropping them and carefully set the table. “See? No need to trade me in yet.”

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  She must have bought his explanation, for she just busied herself getting the casserole and some salad on the table. She even let him make tea for the two of them and carry the mugs over. Then they sat down to eat.

  “I really had a great day,” she told him over dinner. “I’ve got some pictures of the family from old newspapers. Not the greatest quality, of course, but really interesting.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  He kept waiting for her to really relax, to talk about her fears, but she didn’t. She did talk practically nonstop, but all about Simon and Stella and the garden club she’d started and his fondness for peppermint.

  After dinner she showed him all the new pictures and articles and pages of notes that she’d gathered from the newspaper. Stella.
Robert. Joseph. The names meant little or nothing to him, but the sound of her voice was hypnotic. And her hands, touching the papers, awoke that slow flame again. He could imagine them on him, touching him and—

  ”I think Gus needs to go out,” Mike said.

  Casey looked startled, then looked over at Gus sprawled out on the sofa asleep. “He does?”

  “Yeah,” Mike said, and backed away from her a step. “We always go out at this time.” He glanced at the clock. “At 7:48.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since always. Gus, time to go out.”

  Gus responded with enthusiasm and Mike fled outside. He needed space to breathe, cold air to cool his ardor and something to occupy his hands if not his head. They could only play ball so long, but there was always that garage apartment, and Monday was garbage day.

  So while Gus slept in the garage apartment, Mike spent the next few hours hauling trash out to the curb. Through the dining-room window when he passed, he could see Casey working on her laptop computer. Each time he saw her hand run slowly through her hair, saw her bite her lips as she worked, his own breath caught and the fever returned. And more trash got hauled.

  Boxes of junk, old lamps, bags of garbage. An old stuffed chair that looked as though it had been a home for mice. Old curtains. Surely, she had to quit working soon. It was getting late.

  A stack of yellowed newspapers. Some water-stained old books. Rusty paint cans. Dried paintbrushes. A ladder missing half its rungs. Finally the dining-room light went out.

  At last. He carried out an old bed frame, just to be sure, then roused Gus and crept back into the house. The first floor was silent and he could hear the faint creaks of someone moving around on the second floor.

 

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