Snowflakes and Silver Linings

by Cara Colter

  He had told himself it was to try and get a good night’s sleep. It felt like months since he had slept, not been awakened by dreams, soaked in sweat. He always feared he was soaked in the stickiness of blood, until he turned on a light.

  He told himself you didn’t let down a buddy who asked. And Cole had asked, said he needed him to help get this falling-down old inn ready for a special day, the most important day of his life.

  “I have an opportunity to make my world right again,” Cole had said. “I’ve been given a second chance. I want the day to be as perfect as it can be for Emily. Will you come be part of it? Will you come help me?”

  The possibility that there was such a thing as a second chance had lured Turner here.

  He had come to help a friend. That was as engrained in him now as breathing. You helped your buddies when they asked.

  But he knew he’d come to help himself, too.

  To see if there was any chance at all for normalcy for him. A normal night’s sleep. A normal life.

  A long time ago he had stood at a crossroad and had taken a turn. The choice had cost him more than he had ever expected to pay.

  Could a man backtrack to the same crossroad and choose differently? Could he, who had seen and done so many things that were outside the experience of the average American—certainly outside that of his brothers, who were raising their own families now—could he bring anything back to them except pure poison? A cold, hard heart? A damaged spirit?

  What good could that do anyone?

  No, maybe his other option was the right one. Sign up again. And again. And again. Until he joined his other brothers, the ones who had shared those experiences. Until all of them lay beneath the ground, where they could be mourned as heroes, without forcing their families to tolerate them as they were: damaged, cynical, unable to connect with the ordinary things that ordinary people thought were fun and exciting.

  That’s why he had come to the Gingerbread Inn. To see if there really were second chances. And to make a choice.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Through the darkness, in a pink snowsuit that looked almost neon against the white snow, Casey was coming toward the lake.

  Now there was a woman who was going to complicate a simple choice.

  There was a woman who could shake his sense of control. And that meant trouble. Period.

  And yet all those years ago, when he had spent that time in New York with her, he had done it with the purest of motivations. Yes, he’d been intent on making his final days in the States fun and carefree. Maybe he had known, at some level, he was leaving a world behind forever.

  But it had been more than evident to him that while he had grown up in a fun and carefree environment—with backyard skating rinks and puppies delivered by Santa—that was a side of life she had never, because of her brother’s illness, completely known. Casey had never been carefree.

  He had just wanted to show her something. What life could be like.

  That moment when Casey, drowning in the Waldorf Astoria housecoat, had given in completely, taken his hand and jumped up and down with him on the king-size bed in the master bedroom of the suite, laughing out loud, he’d felt he had succeeded at something.

  Setting the rather uptight Miss Caravetta free. In that moment, the truth he thought he had glimpsed about her had proved to be wonderfully true.

  But it seemed she had gone backward since then. He hadn’t been in the inn much, but Casey seemed more uptight than ever, as if she had rebounded back to where she had been before, and then some.

  Because of him? Because he had left her without saying goodbye? Certainly that couldn’t be all of it. And just as certainly, it couldn’t have helped.

  After those three days, he’d had a sense of knowing her, through and through. How sweetly sensitive she was, how deep, how serious. He had known there would be tears if they had a formal farewell.

  His fear of tears was not a new one, like his fear of sleeping, and the fear of Christmas that was keeping him out on this lake while everyone else was busy getting ready. By the time he had met Casey that first time, he had had enough tears to last him a lifetime. And so he had just slipped out the door that morning.

  So why did he feel faintly but unmistakably happy to see her coming, when it was the last thing he’d expected of her, and when he was a man who did not like to be surprised by life?

  Because it meant something of that girl who had jumped on the bed remained.

  It meant maybe he had been given a second chance to do the right thing. It meant maybe he could get to see her laugh again.

  That part of it had elements of selfishness in it. But a memory of a laugh like hers could hold a man in the light when his life took him to dark places.

  This would be the challenge. To bring her back to that place of carefree laughter, without ever letting her see that he could not truly go there with her. Not anymore.

  Even back then, maybe he had hoped carefree joy was a baton he was passing to her. The training, though not real, had foreshadowed the real thing. Even before actually going on that first mission, a baptism in blood and fire, Turner had probably known that particular baton—joyous abandon—would not be his to hold again.

  She had every inch of her hair tucked up under a toque, and for some reason, her not wanting to give him even a glimpse of those locks that he had confessed to adore made him smile. Getting her to let her hair back down was going to be a challenge.

  It felt like the first truly genuine smile he’d had in months.

  * * *

  As she approached the lake, Casey watched Turner skate with a sense of awe. She had not been around people who were athletic, and certainly outdoor sports of any kind were not part of her rather bookish experience.

  She paused and looked at him.

  He wasn’t skating, he was flying. Bent slightly at the waist, legs crossing over each other in the turns, seamlessly moving from skating forward to skating backward.

  There was incredible energy in the air around him. This was his confidence and his strength showing in a very outward way.

  His proficiency rattled her! She had never even been on skates. She was sure she was about to make a fool of herself, and almost headed back, except that suddenly he threw his weight to one side, and in a spray of scraped ice, came to a halt.

  He had seen her. If she retreated now, she had lost more surely than if she had not come down here in the first place.

  There was a bench beside the lake and Casey stopped at it to put on the skates she had chosen from the vast array hung on pegs inside the inn’s back door, for the use of guests.

  While she glared down at the skates, suddenly his dark hair appeared in her peripheral vision.

  She braced herself for him to ask why she was here, what she wanted from him, but he didn’t. His dark head bent over her skates. She had to bite her lip to fight the urge to touch it. This was so much like the night he had playfully painted her toenails.

  “Red,” he’d said, “hidden inside your shoes, like a secret between us.”

  His hands were on the laces. “Nice and tight,” he said. “They’re terrible skates. I’ll see if the laces are long enough to wrap around your ankles for more support.”

  She glared at his head. He could at least act surprised that she had come! But then again, she had the feeling he had become a man it would take a great deal to surprise. And a woman wanting to spend time wi
th him would not be one of those things!

  “Okay.” He gave her skates a little slap. “I think you’re ready.”

  She was not sure what she had pictured, but possibly gliding around him with swanlike elegance had been part of her it.

  Too late, Casey realized some skating experience would undoubtedly have helped in creating such a picture.

  She waddled from the bench to the ice with about as much grace as a penguin making its annual march.

  She was sure once she actually got to the lake, like a penguin making it to water, all that would change, and his next words made her think it would, too.

  “Do you believe in miracles, Casey?” he asked softly.

  “No,” she said, astonished at the quaver in her voice. “Of course not! I’m a scientist.”

  He regarded her thoughtfully, a faint cynical upturn to his mouth. “I don’t believe in them, either,” he said softly. “But I wish you did.”

  “Why?”

  He rolled his shoulders. He was obviously exhausted. She was not sure he had slept since he’d arrived here.

  “If you give up believing in miracles,” he told her quietly, “then you believe only in yourself. And then when you fail there is nothing left to believe in.”

  She stood there, frozen to the spot, knowing he had just trusted her with something of himself, and the regret he felt was already etched in his face.

  He covered it quickly. “So here, Casey, let me give you a miracle.”

  He held out his hand to her, and tentatively, she took it. And it did feel as if a miracle shivered to life within her.

  Everything that had hurt her about love seemed to disintegrate. Oh, no. This was the opposite of what she had come here to prove! She should have refused his hand. She should have insisted on doing this herself!

  But Turner Kennedy had her now, and he pulled her forward, off the snowy bank and onto the ice.

  One foot slid annoyingly away as she tried to anchor the other on the slippery surface. He let go of her hand and she stood there, frozen to the spot.

  He was skating backward, as if it was as easy for him as breathing, and watching her. When her leg skittered even farther away, he skated back toward her with a breathtaking burst of speed, leaped forward, took her elbow.

  “I’ll give you a hand.”

  It would be churlish to refuse, not to mention there was a very real possibility that without him steadying her she was going to fall flat on her fanny without having skated a single step.

  He placed one hand around her shoulder and the other at her waist, and persuaded her to allow her other foot to be guided to the ice.

  Even leaning heavily against him, Casey was wobbling. “I feel like an elephant trying to balance on a beach ball,” she said.

  “What? You don’t get the miracle?”

  “Miracle?” She was very aware, for the second time since their reunion, that they were touching physically.

  And for the second time, she felt as if she could count on him. Lean on him. That he would protect her with his life, if need be.

  That was a miracle even if it was quite a lot to read into the fact that he was holding her up so she wouldn’t hit the ice with a very painful splat.

  “It’s a miracle of biblical proportions,” he whispered huskily in her ear. “You’re walking on water.”

  Despite herself, she laughed. And then he smiled, and it was a real smile, even lightening the exhaustion around his eyes. He steadied her on her feet. “You’ve never skated, have you?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” she said mutinously. “I’m all about embracing life’s adventures.”

  He snorted, but gently. “Since when?”

  “Hey, I’m the girl who ran away with you once.”

  “So you are,” he said quietly.

  “It was the most impulsive thing I had ever done. I lied to my parents about where I was.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean, I shouldn’t have had to lie to them. I was old enough to do what I wanted.”

  “Nothing happened that you couldn’t tell your parents about.”

  “That’s true. It didn’t really work out for me. Embracing adventure. But here I am again. Wouldn’t you say that was brave?”

  He said nothing.

  “Or stupid,” she said, as if she had read his thoughts. “You know what the difference is this time?”

  He shook his head.

  “Me,” she said. “I’m different from how I was back then.”

  He looked relieved and as if he didn’t believe her at the very same time.

  “I am,” she insisted.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “It was years ago.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “I’m not needy.”

  “Okay.”

  “It just looked like fun. To come out here and skate. No strings attached. Put the past behind us. I don’t have a crush on you. That’s what I’m saying. That girl is gone.”

  “Okay,” he repeated quietly.

  “So, if we’ve got that straightened away, let’s go.”

  “Let’s,” he said, and even though he had agreed with every single thing she had said, she was not sure he had believed a word that had come out of her mouth.

  And worse...she was not sure that she had, either!

  “Someday,” she said with grim determination, “I want to teach my children how to skate. That’s really why I’m here.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I’M GLAD YOU cleared that up,” Turner said solemnly, “Now hold on.”

  He moved the hand around her waist to her wrist. In a blink, he had pulled away, spun around and was facing her.

  He took both her hands firmly in his. He had gloves on, she had mittens, but she could still feel a surge of energy pouring between them. He moved effortlessly backward, pulling her toward him.

  “Don’t look at your feet,” he said.

  “What am I supposed to look at?”

  “Me.”

  That’s what she was afraid of. Because looking into his crystal clear gray eyes made it too easy to forget she was on a mission. That she was here to start laying the groundwork for her child’s—or children’s—future. She was here to prove something.

  To him.

  Most especially to herself.

  But that mission was feeling like a mirage in a desert. The closer she got to him, the more it seemed to disappear.

  “That’s it,” he said approvingly. “Hey, look, you’re skating.”

  She wasn’t really, and she knew it. She was wobbling after him like a baby frantic not to lose sight of its mother.

  “Now,” he said, “as miraculous as it is to walk on water, I want you to quit trying to walk. Skating is all about gliding. So push off with your right foot, and let your left one slide forward. Hey! That was good.”

  The mission dissolved a little more as she got caught up in the motion. Push. Glide. Push. Glide. Right foot, then left one.

  “Let go of my hands.”

  Embarrassingly, he had to pry her hands from his.

  “Keep looking at me. Hey! No looking at your feet.”

  He moved away from her, and she scrambled after him like a clumsy puppy. He smiled. That smile was a carrot worth racing toward!

  Wait! It wasn’t. Her whole future felt as if it could be decided in these moments. She was not leaning! She was not depending. She was doing it all herself, her way. She was getting the hang of this thing. She
didn’t need Turner Kennedy or anyone, and in the interest of making that point, she turned from him and skated off in another direction.

  She made it a few yards before one foot decided to go one way and one the other, and her arms windmilled in a crazy attempt to stop herself from falling, but—

  Splat.

  “Ouch,” she said, “That hurt!” Her pride as much as her derriere!

  He skated over and held out his hands. She saw he was smiling that genuine smile again. Why did she feel it had become so rare?

  She saw no option but to take his hands, and he hauled her up with easy strength. Strength it would be far too easy to rely on! Casey swatted his hands away as soon as she was standing. He raised his palms in mock surrender.

  She skated this way and that, experimenting, falling, getting back up. He gave her instructions, called suggestions, came and grabbed her elbow when she was going to fall over. Together, they covered every inch of the ice that he had shoveled off.

  She realized she may have started out to prove something, but she was having fun! Suddenly, she realized she shouldn’t be having fun. She shouldn’t be letting her guard down.

  In truth, he was setting up the very same dynamic he had that evening of the wedding.

  He was the suave and sophisticated slightly older man; she was the gauche girl bowled over by his attention.

  He was taking the lead. He was going to decide what happened and when.

  Including, like that other time, making a decision never to see her again!

  Well, this time it wasn’t going to be like that. She was not going to play little sister to his big brother. She had surprised him by showing up on the ice, and she was going to continue to surprise him.

  And herself.

  She had something to prove! That she could resist his damnable attractions. And at the same time, prove that she was not his little sister, not even close.

  Deliberately, she set off across the ice, away from him. She gained confidence. The sensation of flying was quite remarkable. It was fun and exciting to be moving across the frozen surface on her own, but the speed was surprising. Too soon, she reached the end of the shoveled part, and she had not learned anything about stopping yet!