One Snowbound Weekend...

by Christy Lockhart

  She trudged back through the snow and found Shane inside, his arms still folded as he stared into the crackling fire.

  She stopped halfway into the room, knowing he’d heard her enter. He didn’t acknowledge her. Her fingers were frozen from being outside so long, and Shane’s reception chilled her the rest of the way to the bone. “Why are you hardening your heart against your sister?” she asked quietly.

  He didn’t answer.

  “You’re pushing her away, severing the relationship so that you don’t get hurt any worse than you already are. Is that it, Shane? You’re afraid of being hurt, so you’d prefer to make it simpler and less painful by sending Sarah away.”

  He swung around to face her. Lines were grooved deeply beside his eyes and anger emanated from him like a winter storm. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “I know exactly what I’m talking about,” she contradicted him. Her heart thundered.

  “This is between me and my sister.” He took a menacing step toward her, but she stood her ground. “This is none of your business. If you’ll remember, you made the decision to walk out. You chose not to be part of this family.”

  “That’s not true.” A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it back. “If I had come to you with my father’s ultimatum, you would have reacted the same way you just did with Sarah. You closed yourself off to love because you’re afraid of pain.” And she could no longer be around him. “But I’ll tell you this…the only thing you’ve really done is shut yourself off to the joys of life. Sorrow always comes and it doesn’t hurt any less because you’ve hardened your heart. You care, Shane. I know you do.

  “And you still have a chance with your sister. She and Mondo will be at the Chuckwagon Diner. I don’t know how long they’ll wait. But if you go, try shutting your mouth and listening. You’re behaving like my father did. And look what it did to us.” Drawing a breath, she added, “Don’t let your fear ruin this relationship.”

  Shutters had dropped over his eyes. He looked cold and remote, as silent as the mountain peaks surrounding them. “Is that all?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “I won’t let you stay in that house.”

  “Give me some credit, Shane. I’m going to the Hot Springs Resort. I wouldn’t go to my aunt’s to spite you.” She hurried into his bedroom and grabbed her overnight bag, trying to pretend her hands weren’t shaking as she tossed in her clothes and toiletries.

  It was better this way, she told herself. She couldn’t stay with a man who shut himself off to the world, who’d rather hurt than be hurt. In making love with him, she’d already exposed herself, becoming vulnerable to him.

  She jerked closed the zipper to her bag and squared her shoulders when she went back into the living room.

  Wordlessly, Shane watched her leave, his eyes narrowed, his arms folded uncompromisingly across his chest.

  She tossed her bag in the car, then slammed the door and drove toward town, hoping there were rooms available at the Hot Springs Resort.

  Things were impossible with Shane, she realized. Even now, he hadn’t given an inch. He hadn’t tried to stop her from leaving; he’d stood there and watched her walk out.

  Beneath the tree where he’d proposed to her, the same place she’d slid off the road and lost her memory, she stopped and gave into the tears she could not hold back any longer.

  Earlier she’d been thinking that maybe she’d made the wrong choices in her life. Now she was grateful she had her own life.

  Being alone didn’t hurt as much as caring did.

  She loved her work with kids. She was making a difference in the world. She was completely satisfied.

  Why, then, did tears burn her eyes?

  If life with Shane was impossible, why did her heart feel as though it had a hole in the bottom? And why did she want, more than anything else, to be in his arms?

  A tear slid from her eye and splashed onto the steering wheel as she left him forever.

  Energy, raw and restless, churned in Shane’s gut.

  Damn it. Damn her.

  He slammed his fist into his open palm. It was better that Angie was gone. She intended to leave town, anyway. The sooner the better. She’d been insinuating herself back into his life. No, better that she’d left now. He should have never brought her back to the house last night.

  That was the problem with Angie. He didn’t have a hell of a lot of willpower when it came to her. She had a way of firing all his protective impulses, and she sure as moonlight didn’t want them.

  She was part of his past and should stay there.

  But damned if he could banish the memory of her. The room smelled of her light perfume and the pillows were scattered on the floor from their earlier lovemaking. He thought of their breakfast conversation, their laughter and the way she’d honestly shared the secrets of her past. And more, he recalled their times together…the way they worked together at the community center, the way she always took time for the kids who called her Angel.

  If what Angie said was true—and the more he was around her, the more he believed her—she’d left him so he wouldn’t lose Sarah. And now, Angie had stood up to him again, trying to make sure he didn’t lose Sarah.

  In frustration, he raked his hands through his hair.

  Sarah’s and Angie’s leaving turned him upside down. He thought of Angie’s dedication to the town and to kids. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, Angie had been right about a few things. He didn’t want to lose his sister. He didn’t want Sarah making any foolish mistakes. God knew, he’d made enough for both of them.

  But when it came down to it, she was family and he wanted her in his life.

  To hell with being hurt, he wanted to live.

  Hardhat padded over and nuzzled Shane. “What do you think, boy? Too quiet around here?”

  Hardhat barked.

  Decision made, he grabbed his car keys and Hardhat bounded toward the door, excited for the drive to town. The dog scrabbled into the car and stuck his nose against the passenger window.

  Shane slowed as he neared the tree where he’d proposed to Angie. There were fresh tire tracks in the snow and an indentation in the mud beneath where the back tires had obviously spun when the vehicle left. She’d been here, no doubt. But why? Why would their past have mattered to her?

  Lost in his own thoughts, he drove the rest of the way with the radio turned off and nothing but Hardhat’s occasional sounds to break the silence.

  He saw his sister’s car parked along Front Street.

  Sighing with relief, he went inside the Chuckwagon while Hardhat curled up on the blanket in the back seat.

  Mondo—at least Shane assumed it was Mondo since the guy was sitting next to Sarah and eating off her plate—didn’t look as bad as Shane feared. Yeah, he wore a leather jacket and had hair that stood straight up, but there wasn’t any metal hanging from the guy’s nose or ears. And his hair was plain brown—no pink or blue in sight. He looked more like a Kevin than a Mondo. Shane thanked his lucky stars.

  He started across to the booth and Bridget called out a greeting. He responded and Sarah’s head snapped up. Her gaze fastened on his and she blinked a few times. Instinctively she reached for Mondo’s hand. Mondo put his arm around her, protectively drawing her closer to him. Obviously their relationship had developed deeper than Shane would have imagined possible.

  “I didn’t think you’d come,” she said, her voice cracking with nerves when he slid into the booth across from the young couple.

  “You’re my sister,” he said simply, profoundly.

  “Does that mean you’re not kicking me out of your life?”

  He winced. “It means I owe you an apology.”

  “What?” Her mouth fell open.

  “I should hear you out, listen to your plans, not shut you out. It means…” He cleared his throat. “I apologize.”

  “You’re not very good at that.”

  “Haven’t had mu
ch practice.”

  “It’s accepted.” Sarah smiled and this time reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I love you, too, Shane. And I don’t want to lose you.”

  “That’s what I meant.”

  “I know.” Sarah sipped from her straw. “I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Mondo.”

  The younger man extended his hand and Shane shook it.

  “Hey, man, I’m not, you know, out to take your sister away from you.” He raised his hands, as if in surrender. “I don’t mean you any trouble.”

  All too clearly, he saw the similarities Angie had been talking about earlier. Just like a younger Angie had loved him, Sarah loved Mondo. It didn’t matter that Shane would have chosen a different type of man for his little sister. And he suddenly wondered, would he think any man would be good enough for her?

  Had Angie’s father felt the same way? Edward Burton hadn’t known Shane. The man had probably taken a look at Shane’s background, the cabin, his barely-scraping-by business and decided he wasn’t good enough for Angie. Though Edward Burton was guilty of blackmailing his own daughter, looking at it from a different perspective, Shane could understand a bit better how Edward wanted what he thought was best for his daughter.

  “So, like you’re not going to have the sheriff throw me out of town, are you?”

  He raised his brow and looked at Sarah.

  “I mentioned that Spencer was a good friend of yours. I was afraid that you’d send him after us.”

  Shane shook his head. “In fact, I’ll buy your lunch.” He looked directly at Mondo and added, “You can stay at the house while I get to know you.”

  “So you can talk us out of getting married?” Sarah asked suspiciously.

  “I’d prefer you waited until after graduation.”

  He recognized the set of her chin. “And what if we still want to get married, anyway?”

  He leveled his gaze at the couple. “I won’t lose my sister.”

  “Would we get to share the bedroom?” Sarah asked, looking at her soda, not her brother.

  He drummed his fingers. “You’re not married yet.”

  “Just checking.”

  Shane paid the bill, then said, “I’ll see you at home.”

  Sarah scrambled from the booth and hugged him tightly, stunning him.

  “You’re all I have in the world,” she said. “I never knew Mom, then after Dad died, I thought I would, too. He wasn’t a great father. He was drunk more times than he wasn’t, but he was my dad. But you were always there for me, Shane. I’d die if I lost you.”

  He stroked her hair, hugging her back, realizing he hadn’t done this for years. Maybe Angie was right; maybe he’d been more afraid of being hurt than of living.

  “We’ll wait to get married, Shane.”

  “Thank you,” he said with a relieved sigh.

  “You’re my hero. Did I ever tell you that?”

  He ruffled her hair, grinning.

  Mondo stood and offered his hand. “Thanks for being so cool to Sarah.”

  “I could say the same to you.”

  “Cool, man.”

  “We’ll be home later. I want to introduce Mondo to a few friends.”

  He nodded, his gut no longer in a knot.

  “Hey, Shane?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t let Angie get away again.”

  Shaking his head, he left.

  Hardhat yawned, then clambered back up front to sit in the passenger seat.

  This time, when Shane reached the tree where he’d proposed to Angie, he stopped, too.

  Saving his relationship with Sarah meant the world to him. And he had Angie to thank. He doubted pride would have let him go after her. She’d have left him, as surely as Angie had.

  He turned on the radio and cranked up the volume as he drove home, hoping music would drown his thoughts.

  It didn’t.

  The Shania Twain song that Angie had been singing and dancing to made the speakers vibrate. He listened to the words, and realized he wasn’t the kind of man she needed, never would be. Giving orders came easily to him, protecting others was second nature. And she’d had enough of both.

  Hardhat ran through the snow when they arrived at the cabin, his back legs skidding out from beneath him. Indignantly he picked himself up, shook his head, then took off after a squirrel.

  Shane’s house was cold, empty and lonely.

  There were no soft sighs filling the room, but the traces of her still lingered.

  The thought that he’d never have the opportunity to be with Angie again made his gut twist. Except for their work together, he’d never be alone with her. He wouldn’t hear her secrets, share her excitement, be part of making a dream come true for the town. Suddenly his life felt very empty… Very lonely.

  Weak winter sunlight splashed through the window and spilled a beam across the floor. He saw something gold glinting and he was drawn toward the closet.

  Crouching, he saw Angie’s golden aspen leaf lying on the carpet near the box where he’d kept her things. Without meaning to, he picked up the trinket, remembering the night he’d given it to her. He hadn’t had lots of money back then, but Angie had acted as if he’d bought her the moon. As he’d fastened the necklace on her, she’d promised never to take it off.

  His memory flashed to the night he’d come home and found her awful letter. Anger and hurt had surged in him as her betrayal seared him.

  But as the gold, seemingly warm from the sun, lay in his palm, anger no longer consumed him.

  He thought of her desertion, but differently. He recalled what she said about his argument with Sarah, the untenable situation he himself had put Sarah in.

  With his thumb, he stroked the leaf’s raised veins and, for the first time, saw the past from Angie’s perspective.

  Her father had had his fair share of faults, no doubt. But Angie had loved him, just as Sarah loved Shane. And Angie was right; if she’d told him about the ultimatum, he would have responded just the way she said.

  He thought of Angie, young and vulnerable, faced with the impossible decision of whether to leave him or let her father destroy him and Sarah.

  She’d done the only thing her heart would allow: break her own to save him. It was an unselfish act, one he suddenly realized he didn’t deserve or appreciate.

  He looked at the worn, dulled plating in his hand one more time.

  He remembered his shock at seeing it around her neck after she battled her way through the storm to him. Her eyes had reflected love and adoration and her body had conformed oh-so-sweetly to his.

  She’d never taken off the necklace, she’d said, at least not until he’d raged at her. She might have left him physically, but in her heart, she hadn’t left him until he’d been an idiot.

  At least that was something he had plenty of practice at, he thought bitterly.

  He closed his hand around the inexpensive symbol of love, the love he’d callously thrown away, a love he wanted more than anything else.

  Angie was quite a woman, full of love, energy and caring…. Rarely thinking of herself, she gave completely to others. Even now, when Shane had shut her out, she’d tried to save his relationship with his sister. Always, she thought of others first.

  What a gift she’d offered, and how stupid of him to toss it in her face. If he hadn’t been so focused on himself, maybe he would have seen that earlier….

  He uncurled his hand again and stared at the one lasting memento of their love.

  Was it too late? he wondered. Was it too late to tell her he cared, that he’d been wrong, that being alone was worse than being hurt, that he’d do anything for a second chance?

  He’d never been good at swallowing his pride and letting anyone get close, but thanks to Angie, he’d tried with Sarah, and it had worked.

  His heart added a few extra thumps as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slipped the necklace inside. On impulse, he gently lifted her engagement ring fro
m the box and polished the diamond on the sleeve of his cotton shirt, praying he’d have the chance to slip it on her finger.

  If he was going to win her love, he had to risk everything.

  Hardhat barked and jumped in the four-wheel-drive vehicle as soon as Shane opened the door. “I don’t know that we stand a chance, boy,” Shane said, slipping the transmission into first gear.

  His knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he drove through town, and he left the radio turned off. Hardhat cocked his head to one side, but he didn’t make a sound.

  Nerves ate at Shane as he drove to the Hot Springs Resort. Gwen greeted him warmly, then her smile faded when Shane asked what room Angie was in.

  “Your Angie?”

  His Angie. He liked the sound of that. “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry, Shane. I can’t help you.”

  His mouth dry, he asked, “Can you at least call her room and ask if she’ll see me?”

  Gwen shook her head. “She was never here.”

  His heart sank. No. It wasn’t possible. “She didn’t check in?” Even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow.

  She wouldn’t take the chance of going back to the house; he knew that.

  Which meant one thing: she’d left him.

  Twelve

  Shane refused to give up.

  He hadn’t come to his senses only to lose her.

  Pushing the speed limit, he drove through town, checking the parking lots of the town’s few hotels, looking at all the cars parked along Front Street, making sure she wasn’t at the schoolhouse, then, his gut churning, he went to her aunt’s house.

  Her car was there.

  He swore beneath his breath, both with relief that he’d found her and irritation that she was in a dangerous place when all he wanted to do was keep her safe.

  Shutting off the engine, he started toward the house, taking the porch steps in a single stride. Hardhat on his heels, Shane rang the bell.

  She didn’t answer.

  He rang again, longer and harder. Hardhat joined in with loud barks.

  Shane heard sound coming from inside, but she still didn’t respond. “Damn it,” he called out, pounding forcefully on the door. “Open up, Angie.”