No Silent Christmas

by Barbara Goodwin

  She tried to soften the fall as the man lurched but she dropped to the ground scraping her hands, arms, elbows and knees. Her head fell forward with a thud. When her forehead hit the pavement the world spun, dimmed and then went black.

  When Jonathon yelled at the intruder, Carey Chambers and Scott dropped their props and ran after him. All three men burst through the door in time to see the stocky man snatch Maggie and run.

  “Stop! Maggie, I’m coming!” Scott put on a burst of speed. His long, muscular legs ate up the ground and he gained on the short, heavyset man. Scott watched in slow motion as Maggie struggled and beat the man with her fists and kicked his stomach. The flurry of the pounding didn’t take long to slow the man down and he stumbled. Scott gave it his last burst of speed. He knew Maggie would be hurt if he didn’t get there in time.

  The moment she started to fall Scott felt his heart stop. “Nooo!” The wail couldn’t be stopped. He watched helplessly as the woman he loved fell from the man’s shoulders and hit her forehead on the pavement.

  Scott raced to Maggie and dropped to the ground beside her. “Maggie, sweetheart. Talk to me.” She lay on her right side, one arm under her body. He ran his hands over her head without moving her. A lot of blood seeped from the front where she’d hit it worrying Scott. At least she was breathing. He could see the rise and fall of her chest and let out a little sigh of relief.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Scott?”

  “Shh. Don’t talk. A doctor’s on the way.” Scott kissed her lips and whispered endearments. He glanced up and saw Chambers race after the chunky man.

  Maggie tried to sit up. “No, sweetheart, don’t. You might have injured your neck.” She fell back weakly and Scott eased her back to the ground. “Can you tell if anything’s broken?”

  “I don’t know.” Maggie whispered in a weak voice.

  Scott saw her eyes flutter and then her head lolled to the side. She’d passed out. “Where the hell’s the doctor?” Fury and impotence raged through him. Maggie could be seriously injured and no one was here. For the first time since he’d popped into 1925 Scott wished he were home where medical care was so much better.

  The doctor arrived with his black bag and examined Maggie. She awakened with a jerk when he waved smelling salts under her nose. “Here, missy, you just sit up and we’ll check you out.”

  “No!” Scott said.

  Both the doctor and Maggie started. Other people from the studio stood around in a circle waiting to hear what the doctor said. “Scott, please…” Maggie said.

  “No, sweetheart, you might have injured your neck. Don’t move.”

  He did a more thorough check of her arms and legs glad he’d been trained as a firefighter. After running his hands over her he said, “Can you slowly turn your head? Don’t push it, just a little at a time.”

  Maggie did as he asked. “I’m a bit stiff, but I think I’m fine.”

  “How’s our gal?” Carey Chambers asked.

  “She’s not your gal,” Scott muttered. “Did you catch the man?”

  “No, I’m afraid he was too fast for me and got away.” Chambers looked at all of the people standing around and gave them a blinding smile. He wiped a little sweat off his brow and winked at a particularly lovely young lady.

  Scott ground his teeth together. The man was an insufferable boor. “Did you even try to catch him, Chambers? After all, he was a fat, son of a bi—”

  “Of course I tried to get him, Forrester. He had too much of a lead on me.” Chambers turned away from Scott and bent down to Maggie. He wiped a strand of hair off her forehead. “This little bit was sticking to your cut, darlin’.” He leaned over and kissed a spot on her temple.

  “Hands off, bucko,” growled Scott. The surrounding crowd couldn’t hear their words, but the doctor could.

  “Let me have my patient, gentlemen.” The studio doctor helped Maggie to her feet and said, “We’ll just get you to my office and give you a thorough going-over.”

  As the doctor led her away, Maggie gave both men an imploring look. Before she could say anything they rounded the corner of a building and disappeared from sight.

  The crowd dispersed now that the action was over and Scott rounded on Carey Chambers. “What’s with the phony concern?”

  Chambers glanced around to make sure no one was within hearing distance and said, “Don’t tread on my turf, boy. I have my sights on little Maggie and no upstart co-star is going to get in my way.”

  “What?” Scott couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “Why?”

  “She’s fascinating, boy. She has connections. Miss Ingram would be a great addition to my collection.”

  “Collection!” Scott sputtered. “You make her sound like a toy doll.”

  “She’s the real thing, Forrester. And her papa’s a real important man too.”

  Almost before Carey finished his little speech Scott threw the first punch. “You conniving, gold-digging, pathetic man.”

  Chambers ducked but the punch glanced off his jaw. “You’ll pay for that, Forrester. No one hits Carey Chambers unless it’s written in a script. You might as well pack your bags. You’ll be out of your trailer and off this lot before nightfall.” Chambers strode away with angry steps.

  Scott stood rooted to the spot. He hadn’t been this angry since he’d been a teenager and he’d thought about his father’s abandonment of him when his mother had died. Carey Chambers, movie star extraordinaire had just told him that he was pursuing Maggie Ingram for her father’s money.

  That meant one thing. Chambers was broke and desperate that no one find it out.

  Now Scott had an inkling why the portly man with the Brooklyn accent had been hiding on the set. Chambers owed him money and the man wanted it back. Scott decided to find out why Carey Chambers owed those thugs money. And when he did he was going to make sure the whole world knew it.

  * * * * *

  Scott had checked on Maggie earlier. The doctor declared her fine, except for some bruises and a sprained wrist. She had seven stitches in her forehead but they would be covered by her hair. Now she was resting in her trailer and Scott took the time to shower and clean up. The hot shower steamed up the small bathroom and he felt a sense of claustrophobia. As soon as he finished he opened the door to the bathroom to let out the steam and let in some cooling air.

  After shaving and dressing he sat at the small table and drank water. Chambers’ pronouncement that he wanted Maggie rankled. Was it only for her father’s money? On the surface it was straightforward enough. Did he mean he wanted Maggie for eye candy when out in public or did he want her for a longer relationship?

  The sudden thought brought Scott to his feet. Chambers wants to marry Maggie for her father’s money. Why the dirty, low-down, money-chasing rat. Scott paced the trailer. No way. Maggie was his. He didn’t want her father’s money. He wanted her. Her body, her mind, her spirit and her soul.

  He punctuated the air with a tight fist as he swore that he wouldn’t let Chambers get his dirty mitts on Maggie.

  Oh, God. Scott sank onto the sofa. He had it bad.

  He truly loved Maggie.

  He slumped and stretched out his legs. What was he going to do about this? He had no idea if she loved him back. All Scott knew was that she was as attracted to him as he was to her.

  That insane, pulse-pounding, leg-weakening, heart-stopping desire he had for her never went away. It debilitated him. He couldn’t think, breathe or function. When he was near her he wanted her, needed her.

  How would he get through life without her?

  A pounding on his door brought him out of his revelations. He yanked it open to see pretty Selma Benning, Sid Goodman’s assistant, standing there with a frown on her face. “Mr. Goodman would like to see you immediately.”

  “Am I fired?” Scott couldn’t believe that Chambers had that much power. But what did he know about movie studios in the 1920s?

  “I’m just here to deliver the message. You need to be in
his office in ten minutes.”

  Scott nodded his head to Selma. “I’m leaving now. Oh, and thanks. Sorry I barked at you.”

  Selma smiled. “No problem, Mr. Forrester.” She turned, walked down the three steps and headed toward the administrative offices.

  As Scott opened the door to Sid’s office a few minutes later he felt as if an axe hung over his neck. Selma glanced up and smiled. “Go right in.”

  Scott entered Sid’s inner office to see Matt Gant, the lawyer, sitting in a chair. Both men rose. “Scott, thanks for coming on such short notice.”

  Scott snorted. “My pleasure.” He glanced between the two men and waited for further instructions.

  “Please sit down,” Goodman said. “You remember Matt Gant?”

  The two men shook hands. Scott wanted to cut the handshake short because Gant had such a weak grip and sweaty palm but he wouldn’t show weakness to the lawyer. He sat down and waited to be fired.

  “What’s with all of these accidents with Maggie Ingram?” Sid boomed. “Falling lights, runaway trains, now an attempted kidnapping.”

  No one answered.

  “Carey Chambers wants you fired, Forrester.” Goodman pounded his desk. “The man’s an imbecile. I wonder why I keep him on.”

  Scott felt the relief pour out of him. His hands unclenched and he hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath. Still, he waited for Sid to go on.

  “If he wasn’t the most famous star of the day and if he didn’t bring in tons of money for this studio, I’d fire him in an instant. He’s a drunk. He frequents speakeasies to get his liquor and somehow the bottles end up in his trailer. I’m sure he has them at his apartment also.

  “He’s unreliable, too. But the man can charm the pants off of the ladies and the ladies get their men to the movie theaters. It’s a vicious circle I tell you.” Goodman had pushed up from his desk and paced behind it during his tirade. “Gant here tells me that we can’t release him from his contract until the film’s over. Since I’m not going to fire you—why would I do that?—you’re the star that’ll draw in those ladies and their men to this film. We’ll have to work out a way to get you and Chambers to put aside your, er, dislike of each other and get this picture finished.” Goodman sat back down in his chair and rubbed his bald head. He took off his glasses, blew on them, then rubbed them clean with a wrinkled, white handkerchief.

  No one spoke. Scott watched the little ritual that he’d begun to realize was Sid Goodman’s way of thinking. “So, what do you have to say?” Goodman asked him.

  Scott cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” Goodman stuffed his handkerchief into his pants pocket.

  “Not firing me.”

  “I don’t fire people who are reliable, save my female stars from being hurt and have the good graces to be nice,” Goodman said as he stared at Scott. “I do fire people like Chambers, though.” Goodman turned to Matt Gant. “And I will fire him, contract or no contract if he screws up one more time.” He turned back to Scott. “Now, what are you going to do to get along with Chambers?”

  Scott didn’t answer at first. He thought about how much he disliked Chambers and how he now had to protect Maggie from the gold-digging leech. “I’ll stay out of his way as much as possible, Mr. Goodman, but I can’t guarantee anything else.”

  Silence filled the room.

  Sid coughed breaking the tension. “Well, an honest response. I know you don’t like him, Forrester. I also know Chambers doesn’t like you. Must be because you’re better looking than he is.” Sid Goodman opened a box on his desk, pulled out a cigar and offered it to his guests. After both men shook their heads no, he cut off the tip, lit it and inhaled. “Ah, nothing better than Cuban. Back to Chambers.” He waved the cigar at the two men. “No one has endangered the man’s stardom in years. Now you come along out of thin air, Forrester, save my life and get a supporting role in his film. Chambers feels threatened. I’m telling you, Scott. You stay away from the man until filming is over. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, Mr. Goodman.”

  “Good, then get out of here.” Goodman waved to the door.

  Scott stood and leaned across the desk to shake Sid’s hand. “Thanks. I’ll do my best.”

  Goodman shook back, hard and strong. “You do that. I need this picture finished.”

  * * * * *

  Scott awakened Maggie for a moment when he checked on her again. With a simmering kiss on her lips and a tender touch to her cheek he left her to rest. Her forehead had turned black and blue and the bruises on her right arm were showing a nice shade of purple and green. Her sprained wrist was bandaged so she wouldn’t twist it and injure it more.

  Anger simmered in Scott when he saw Maggie’s injuries. He told himself he’d find the man who’d tried to kidnap her and get to the bottom of this. There had now been three attempts on Maggie’s life. Scott didn’t want her to be seriously injured. Too bad he couldn’t whisk her away to the twenty-first century. That’d get her out of harm’s way.

  The more he thought about it the more he figured all the accidents were related. Related to Carey Chambers. The man must owe a lot of money to those thugs. Each time an “accident” happened Chambers was on set. Each time Maggie was almost killed.

  Except the scene on the train. Chambers was supposed to be on that set but Damon Westerly had sent him to his trailer to sober up. Scott paced the little trailer. Were the accidents meant for Chambers? The train had to be rigged to fail before the scene was set and when Westerly changed the order of filming to accommodate Chambers…well, the plan was already in motion. Scott sank to the sofa. That would mean that Maggie was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet each time the “accidents” were planned for Maggie to be on the set. Disgusted, Scott laid his head on the back of the sofa. There were too many possibilities.

  Enough was enough. Night had fallen and Scott felt restless. He took out his BlackBerry. He wanted to talk to his brother. He turned on the device, heard the dial tone and pressed four buttons before his hand stilled in the air. What was he doing? This isn’t just a phone, it’s a time travel machine. Scott dropped the phone. It landed on the sofa cushion next to him.

  That was close. He couldn’t forget that this BlackBerry wasn’t his. Impatience burned in him. He glared at the phone willing it to ring. Come on, Shauna, do your futuristic trick and talk to me. But the offending phone remained silent, backlit and staring at him.

  Scott heaved a sigh. He pictured his apartment in Bend, Oregon and clearly saw Maggie bustling around it with him. A sense of completeness filled him. He knew at that moment that he wanted to marry Maggie and take her back to his time with him.

  But would she want to go and leave everything she knew, everyone she loved?

  He stretched out on the sofa and pulled a light blanket around him. After glancing at the time on the BlackBerry, ten forty-five—strange how it worked in this time period. The screen even read, December 29, 1925. Shaking his head at the foibles of time travel he closed his eyes.

  Suddenly he sat up. December 29. It’s almost New Year’s Eve. He’d completely missed Christmas. Well, he’d wanted a quiet one, just him, his brother and sister-in-law. Instead he’d ended up in a silent movie with a detestable leading actor and a delectable co-star. Scott decided then and there to ask Maggie out to celebrate New Year’s Eve. He knew it’d do him good to get out. He had the money he’d earned stashed in the trailer. Tomorrow he’d make reservations at the swankiest place in town.

  * * * * *

  When he walked onto the set the next morning Scott could tell that Carey Chambers wasn’t happy to see him. The glowering look spoke volumes. They finished their scene after fifteen takes. Chambers was hungover and couldn’t remember what to do. When he did remember his moves he tripped and swayed, falling into props and furniture.

  “Cut! That’s it, Chambers,” a disgusted Damon Westerly roared. “Go sleep it off.”

  “Sleep what off, Dam
on?” Chambers slurred.

  “Your most recent binge. Now get out of here.” Westerly threw his script on the floor and hollered, “Everyone else return at two o’clock. We’ll be shooting scene twenty-three. That’s Forrester and Cummings.”

  Scott left and went to Maggie’s trailer. When she opened the door he gasped. “My, God. How do you feel?” He pulled her into a loose embrace not wanting to jostle her sprained arm or hurt her any further than she already was and tenderly kissed her. Heat smoldered inside him but he pushed it away. Now wasn’t the time for desire. Now was the time for understanding.

  “I’m stiff and sore and glad to be alive.” Maggie smiled and raised her face to Scott’s.

  He leaned down and tickled her lips with his. The sharp jab of passion cut through him so fast he couldn’t stop himself from leaning closer and pulling her into a tighter embrace. “Umm. You taste great. Coffee?”

  Maggie laughed, then winced. “Yes. Ouch.”

  Instantly contrite Scott let her go. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.” He trailed a finger down the left side of her face where there were no scrapes, cuts or bruises to worry about. He felt his heart hammer in his chest as an aching desire still pounded through him. Scott led her to the table. “Here, have a seat.”

  Maggie sat down with a small groan. She smiled at Scott when he sat opposite her. He captured her hand in his, leaned forward and cleared his throat. “Will you spend New Year’s Eve with me?”

  Maggie choked. “What?”

  Scott realized how that sounded. “Wait. What I mean to say is can I take you out for the evening?”

  A relieved laugh bubbled out of Maggie. “Oh. Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place? You startled me. I thought you wanted me to…to…you know.” She trailed off with a wave of her hand.

  A lecherous grin split Scott’s face and he waggled his eyebrows at her. She burst out laughing then bent over with a moan and held her arm. “Stop that. It hurts too much to laugh.”