
Resplendence Publishing, LLC www.resplendencepublishing.com
Copyright ©2008 by Magdalena Scott
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and occurrences are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
Ladies of Legend, TN, Finding Home by Janet Eaves, Magdalena Scott, Maddie James and Jan Scarbrough
Beauty and the Beast by Janet Eaves
Harvest Moon by Janet Eaves
Murder on the Mountain by Maddie James
A Legendary Christmas, A Christmas Anthology by Janet Eaves, Maddie James, Jan Scarbrough, and Magdalena Scott
Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" began to play. By the second bar, Rebecca Mayfield had snapped open her cell phone.
"Hello?"
"Rebecca? Hey! Did I catch you at a bad time?"
"Oh, Midnight! No, it's not a bad time." Rebecca tried to calm her voice so Midnight wouldn't detect her stressed-out state.
"Okay. Well, I tried your apartment and no answer, so I thought maybe you were out."
"Hoped. You hoped I was out. On a date. With some tall, dark, handsome, eligible bachelor-type guy destined to be the next Mr. Rebecca Mayfield. Well, no way. I've told you that." She began twisting the back of her diamond stud earring.
"Ugh. You're at work, aren't you? You need to cut your hours, my dear."
"Midnight, I'm the boss. I set an example by working hard."
"Right. We've had this conversation. You're extremely good at what you do. I can attest to that. Without you on my side, Jeffrey and his attorney would have ruined me. But Rebecca, you need to give yourself a rest once in a while."
"Okay. Fine. I will." She leaned her head back, tried to relax, but the movement strained her tense shoulder muscles. "It's the holidays, after all. I'll be taking some time off."
"Great! Exactly what I'm calling about. Martin and Daniel and I want you to come down to Legend and spend Christmas with us. The entire town is decorated for the holiday. There's even a little bit of snow on the ground, which is unusual for around here. Seriously, it's prettier than a greeting card. This is the perfect time to make your first visit. So just grab a flight and head down. The apartment over The Emporium is available, and it's partly furnished, so you can even have your own space if you'd rather not stay with us. How does it sound?"
"Oh, Midnight, it's sweet of you guys. Martin hasn't even met me in person, so I can't imagine he'd want me there. Let alone Daniel. He's fifteen now, right? I remember Blaine at his age. An extra adult around isn't what he wants for Christmas. And I wouldn't want to horn in on your holiday."
"You're not horning in. We're inviting you, stupid. We want you here. So, it's all set, okay?"
"Well..."
"Why not? What could be better than a small town Christmas?"
It did sound interesting, but at the moment Rebecca felt old and tired. Not at all merry. Her doctor had recently told her she was pushing her luck on her health with the schedule she kept and the constant stress---especially since she'd turned forty this year. He'd given her a prescription for anti-depressants, told her to take some high-powered vitamins, eat healthier, exercise daily, and get more sleep. The man obviously had no clue what it took to be the divorce attorney in New York City.
Her staff and associate attorneys respected her, and wisely kept their distance. Occasionally she heard herself referred to as The Dragon-Lady, but that was part of being at the top. The firm was her livelihood, her career, and since Stephen had died and Blaine had gone to college, it had become her life. Rebecca Mayfield was respected and successful---at times, even feared. Her suite of offices was beautiful with expensive, tasteful décor. Mayfield & Associates had become the embodiment of Rebecca Mayfield.
"Midnight, you're railroading me. This is not like you. I have work." But work was all she had, for the first time in what seemed like forever. There was no one in the entire city she really wanted to spend Christmas with. "Um, let me think about it, okay? It sounds great, of course. Just let me think about whether or not I can manage it."
"Well. Okay, Rebecca. The invitation is open. You come on down to Legend. We hope you want to. I'll e-mail you the directions. And hey---I don't mean to be pushy."
"You're an organizer. It's just your way. Mine, too. That's not a bad thing." Rebecca absently straightened the items on her desk. Stapler here, paper clip dispenser here, two-hole punch here. "I appreciate the thought, and the fact that you really do want me there. Just let me think it through. Don't expect me. But on the other hand, I might show up. Can we leave it at that?"
"Sure, Rebecca. No pressure. Um. One tiny thing. There's someone we'd like you to meet."
Rebecca's eyes rolled. Oh no!
"It's not a big deal, really. We haven't said anything to him. Just a casual meeting here with lots of other people around. You like him, maybe it'll go somewhere, you don't, nothing's lost. But I thought I'd mention it, because once you got here you'd figure it out, and then you'd probably rip my head off. Tactfully, of course."
In spite of herself, Rebecca smiled. "You know me too well. But I am really not looking right now. Just had something end rather poorly, and, well, it's definitely too soon. So please don't get your hopes up on that, okay? It's good of you, but still."
"All right. Understood. But think about Christmas. No pressure. Just show up Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. Sooner if you want."
"If I do come, what can I bring?"
"Just yourself, and a sense of adventure. Martin's family is huge, and they love getting together at holidays. Very festive. There's also a Christmas Eve candlelight church service we can go to in town. It's non-denominational, and really nice. Just about everybody goes."
Rebecca imagined it. Small town Christmas. Picturesque. Hokey. But somehow, surprisingly tempting. Midnight's life had turned around when she moved to Legend, Tennessee from the City. Perhaps there was something special there for Rebecca too. "I'll think about it. Thanks, Midnight. Maybe I'll see you."
Maybe a quaint little snow-covered mountain Christmas was just the tonic she needed.
A lifetime later, Rebecca hated Christmas. Hated the tiny white rental car she'd had to settle for. Hated, hated, hated snow. It was blowing hard, coming at her in waves it seemed, as she gripped the steering wheel for dear life and stared in what she hoped was the direction the road was headed. She wished now that when she'd exited the Interstate eons ago, she had just pulled up to the entryway of a friendly motel and asked for a room.
If she saw a motel now, she would do it, no question. But Rebecca hadn't seen one in a long time. She hadn't even seen a house in quite a while. Or another car. Or even one of those dratted SUVs that had towered over her and sprayed the little rental car with snow and road salt for so many hours. During her flight from the City to Ashville, Rebecca marveled at the fact that she was on her way to Tennessee for Christmas. She'd never been in the state before. And except for the fact that it was generally shaped like a parallelogram, and had a famous mountain range, she knew little about it.
Midnight Shelby had moved there after the ugly divorce Rebecca had represented her in. Midnight had been done with men, done with the corporate life, and had wanted a major change. She found the little town of Legend, Tennessee on the internet by way of a realtor's web site. She bought a building sight unseen, moved there and started a business, The Emporium, selling locally made arts and crafts. Not long after, Midnight had fallen in love with her realtor, the handsome Martin McClain. Now she was Martin's very happy wife, and step-mom to Daniel Martin McClain, age fifteen. What a difference two years had made! And now, finally, Rebecca was on her way to her friend's new hometown. At least she had been while she'd been able to follow the printed directions and see road signs. Now ... who knew? Finding Midnight's idyllic town was turning into a stress-fest all its own.
She was definitely in a mountain range, on a small road or highway. She didn't know which and couldn't see enough outside to know if there were road signs or not. It was just one big white blur all around her, and further out was the darkness of night. The little white car was invisible in it, even to her. There wasn't a working radio so she could hear meteorologists tell her she was in the middle of a blizzard.
Which she definitely was.
The only thing that kept her going was the set of tracks she'd been following. She hoped the person ahead of her was going somewhere she'd be welcome too. She knew better than to try to catch up with the vehicle, as the snow was slippery. Was there ice underneath? She'd never seen whatever had made the tracks. It seemed forever since she'd seen another human being. Any human being would be such a welcome relief to her right now, she thought.
What about Gerald? Tall, blonde, handsome, successful Gerald with the amazing kisses and talented hands. She wondered if she would be glad to see him. It had been a few weeks now since the text message.
Dprtr chngd. Thx 4 evthg. G.
He'd changed the departure date on the romantic cruise Rebecca had planned and paid for, and had taken another woman. Rebecca phoned his cell from the doorman's desk at her apartment building, to fool Gerald's caller ID. When he answered, Rebecca confronted him and asked point-blank. He admitted he'd found someone else. He did, however, offer to remain Rebecca's friend. At least she had the satisfaction of hanging up on him.
Maybe Gerald was looking for something more. Something like "happily ever after." Rebecca, in her vast personal and legal experience, knew it didn't exist.
No, even as lost and weary as she was, she knew she'd cheerfully run Gerald down in the road if he'd had the misfortune to be there.
Without taking her eyes off the tracks in the snow, Rebecca reached across to her little tapestry handbag perched on the laptop case in the passenger seat. She pulled her cell phone out of its exterior pocket and flipped it open. No tiny light shone up at her. She'd left the phone on during the drive when its battery had already been low, and now it was totally dead. The charger in her suitcase wouldn't do any good---it was for a wall outlet. Rebecca didn't own a car charger, since she didn't own a car.
"Great!" She snapped the phone closed again, slipped it into its pocket. "But who would I call anyway? And what would I tell them? Hey Midnight, I'm on the way. But I actually have no clue where I am. Can you come and get me? I'll be the one in the invisible white car in the giant blizzard. See you in a sec, girlfriend. Bye."
Earlier, if she'd called to ask Midnight if she was taking the right exit, that would have helped. But Rebecca had the printed directions and tiny map. She'd been too sure of herself to ask for help. Self-assurance was a plus in her line of work. You don't take a client into divorce court if you're uncertain of your abilities. Rebecca had always been self-assured, self-confident, self-reliant.
She found it difficult to be glad for those qualities at this moment, however.
Having a harder time seeing the tracks, she wondered whether she was falling further behind, or if the snow was coming down faster. The term "snow-blindness" entered her mind. The way it swirled in her headlights was hypnotic. She just wanted to lay her head down and sleep. Her eyelids drooped time and again, and once they stayed shut for a fraction of a second too long.
When she opened them, the little car was sliding off the road into a very soft white ditch. The sound of metal against metal told her that somewhere along the right side of the car there was a fence.
She wasn't hurt, had been traveling too slowly and come to such a cushy stop, there hadn't seemed to be much of an impact, except for the scraping of the fence. Plus she always wore her seat belt. Rebecca sighed with relief.
She knew it was ridiculous to be glad she was stuck in a snow bank, but in a way that was fine. She didn't want to drive anymore. How long would the little car have traveled on the most recent tank of gas she'd bought? Too long already! She painfully removed her shaking fingers from the steering wheel. Should she let the car run or turn it off? Not knowing, she let it run and left the lights on, hoping someone would come along and notice her. Preferably someone in one of those four-wheel drive SUVs with lots of room and the ability to get where they were going.
She looked at her watch. Eleven o'clock on Christmas Eve night, sitting in a rental car in a snowstorm. Not her cup of tea. But no way was she going to get out of the car and try to walk to shelter. Her stomach growled. She'd stopped at a fast food place when she'd filled the car with gas, but that was hours ago. Drinking the last of her cold coffee from the Styrofoam cup, she settled back into the seat to rest ... and wait.
Rebecca awoke, cold and disoriented. Then she remembered where she was---lost---and how she'd gotten there---stupidity. The little car seemed to have run out of gas, as its engine had stopped running. The lights weren't on anymore so she guessed its battery had also been discharged. She clicked the ignition off, and as she expected, it did nothing when she tried to turn it back on. It was completely dark outside, something she never saw in the City with its massive light pollution. Rebecca couldn't make out any light at all except the moon.
"Hey---the moon! I can see you up there! That must mean the snow stopped. All right! But unfortunately that doesn't get me out of this ditch." Needing heat, Rebecca pulled her laptop out of its case and turned it on, setting it on her knees. The screen lit up and the little fan motor whirred softly. She tried to find a wireless network, knowing it was pointless. Nothing. She clicked the lid closed again. Soon the heat of the computer's battery helped warm her legs.
Rebecca sniffed. What was that smell? She should be able to identify it ... "Oh man, I smell smoke! Wood smoke! And I seriously need to stop talking to myself! But hell, who else am I going to talk to?" She craned her neck around and saw it. A faint yellow light coming from two small windows on a hill behind her. Someone was in a house up there. Someone who was burning a wood fire that smelled, right now, absolutely heavenly.
Hurriedly scrambling as excitement, relief and anticipation warred for reign over her senses, Rebecca gathered her laptop case and purse, yanked the keys out of the ignition and pushed hard against the car door. Snow had piled up against it as she'd slept, and it took every ounce of strength to get the door opened against the snow and the fact that she was pushing it uphill from her cock-eyed perch in the ditch. Holding the door open with one fashionable black ankle boot, she gave a last heave and climbed out of the car with her paraphernalia in tow.
A literal sinking sensation overcame her as she realized she was nearly knee-deep in snow. It was cold, wet, and made her feel miserably hopeless. But she quickly quashed these emotions and summoned her usual persona. Self-assurance, self-confidence, and self-reliance. She squared her shoulders and took one step, then another. The car door fell shut with a slam behind her, and she headed toward the wood smoke and the little windows with the yellow light. She didn't allow herself to wonder if the people in that house were likely to let her in. She would get in, get warm and dry, and when the snow stopped, someone would get that damned rental car running for her, and she'd be on her way.
It seemed to take hours to get to the house. She was a poor judge of distance anyway, and the physical exertion of trudging through the snow, her chattering teeth, and nagging thoughts of frostbite didn't help. Twice, she tripped headlong into the soft snow, unable to see in the dark even with the moonlight. She was freezing and shaking when she pushed the doorbell. Then she realized the doorbell was just a knotty place in the wood she'd somehow found with her forefinger in her much-too-thin kid glove. She knocked on the door. Nothing. She pounded then, weakly, but not stopping until the door opened.
Soft light spilled out the open doorway, and a tall masculine figure blocked her view of the room. Rebecca didn't know what to say, had not planned her opening remarks as a good attorney always does. Her only thought had been to force her body to reach the house. Her chattering teeth wouldn't have allowed coherent speech anyway.
"Help," was all she managed, softly, before feeling herself begin to collapse. He yanked the computer bag from her shoulder and pulled her into the room as the door slammed behind her. A blast of wind whooshed through the cabin, extinguishing the flame of a single white pillar candle on the coffee table.
"Are you nuts, woman?" He tossed her tapestry purse on top of the laptop case. Next, he removed her beloved emerald cloak and dumped it on the floor. Then came the snug leather gloves, pulled off quickly and landing inside-out on top of the cloak. He sat her onto the couch and knelt down, unzipping her ankle boots and throwing them in the general vicinity of her other belongings.
"Hey! Those are---"
"Completely useless in snow? Right. What are you dressed for? A business meeting in a climate-controlled office? It's twelve degrees! What are you doing way out here?"
His questions came fast and furious, and his hands moved over her just as quickly. Before she realized what was going on, Rebecca was on the couch completely nude. A moment later, she found herself wrapped in a down-filled comforter.
"Hey!" she said again, wishing words would appear in her mind to deride him for his cavalier attitude and rough treatment. Not to mention the fact that he had undressed her without even a proper introduction.
"Yeah, yeah, just a minute." He grabbed the white pillar candle off the coffee table and stalked away, returning in a moment with a thick chocolate-brown towel which he wrapped rather awkwardly around her wet hair. Then he was out of her sight again. Rebecca sank into the somewhat lumpy couch cushions, willing herself to stop shaking. A few minutes later the man reappeared with a heavy pottery mug in his hand. Steam rose from it enticingly.
"Tea?" Would Earl Grey be too much to ask for?
"Coffee. Strong and black." He thrust the cup at her without apology. From his dialect, she surmised she had at least managed to get to Eastern Tennessee somewhere.
"Okay." Strong and black was the only way she drank coffee, something she probably did more frequently than her doctor would like. A snowstorm seemed to call for tea, or hot cocoa, but Rebecca put that down to her romantic spirit.
Which she had thought was long dead.
Reaching for the big mug, she dislodged the arrangement of the comforter around her shoulders. She shifted it and got one hand out, holding the comforter together with her other hand. Relief washed over her as she gripped the warm mug. She was safe, almost dry, and nearly warm, too. No more worries about dying in that snowdrift with the tiny car as her casket. She closed her eyes as the first blessed sip of coffee slid down her throat.
"Mmm, this is surely the best coffee I've ever had."
"So in other words you are starved, dehydrated, and have completely lost your mind while out wandering in the snow."
Rebecca glanced up sharply at him then. She wanted to say something cutting, because he was being unkind. But her intrusion could have been met with a much worse welcome. Instead of speaking again, she continued to sip the coffee and look at the man. This seemed to bother him, and he paced a moment before throwing himself into an overstuffed chair across the rough wood coffee table from her. He didn't break eye contact for long though, except to notice when the comforter shifted as she sat up a little straighter, exposing one slender white shoulder to the cold air, and his glance, for a moment.
"Okay, you're warming up now. Want to tell me what you're doing way out here in this weather, on Christmas Eve?"
"Hm. I guess I owe you that much. My name is Rebecca. I was driving to a friend's house to spend the holiday, and I lost my way. Then I slid off the road. My rental car is a little distance from here. I got stuck in a snow bank, and I saw your lights."
Rebecca realized she could be in considerable danger here, having absolutely no way to defend herself if the man wanted to hurt her. But she was confident he wouldn't do that. Something in his blue eyes made her trust him. She saw honor there, and compassion, though she hadn't noticed the latter in his voice.
He was a big man, standing easily over six feet tall, and broad-shouldered, with thick dark hair sprinkled with white, a handsome face, an interesting mouth, and a very nice physique well displayed by his worn jeans and gray thermal shirt. She wondered briefly at the waste of his being here alone, then realized there could be someone else in the little cabin who just hadn't shown himself. Or herself.
"And you are?" she prompted.
"Your savior." He extracted himself from the big chair and stalked away again. Why? She hadn't asked anything of him but his name. That seemed only fair. What else was there to discuss at this point?
The man didn't return. She listened intently but heard no sounds, and finally put her empty mug on the table. Being careful of the arrangement of the comforter, she slipped down into the cushions.
Rebecca lay there for a long while, enjoying the crackling fire that had warmed her body, the smell of whose smoke had helped save her life. She thought she could see people dancing in the flames, very energetically. The way they danced together mesmerized her. The more she watched, the more she saw two distinct figures dancing together. Maybe it was a Latin dance of some sort. It was so sultry---more like lovemaking than dancing. Two fluid bodies, one much larger, towering over the small one at times, reaching for the small one, and the small one reaching toward the other and then dancing away a moment later, teasing, until the larger one overtook it and the two danced so closely together for a while that they became one big flame. Crackling, sending out sparks, putting off waves of heat.
Rebecca knew it was just her mind playing tricks, that she was tired and needed sleep. But she couldn't take her eyes off the dancing flames, and she couldn't help noticing that she was getting warmer by the moment. She felt her breathing become heavier, as she saw herself as the small flame, and the man in the cabin with her as the large one.
How would it feel to dance so close to that big handsome man? How would it feel if he reached out for her, and she to him? And if she pulled away, would he overtake her, pull her into him until they became one? Until their dance brought them together in that most intimate of dances?
He put his hand on her bare shoulder and she screamed.
"What?" he yelled, jumping back a good foot. "I just touched your shoulder. Holy---You looked like you were in a trance or something. I thought..."
Horrified that he had found her getting hot and bothered by his fire, Rebecca reacted in her usual way---she lashed out.
"You don't ever sneak up and touch me and not expect a reaction. Don't try it again, mister. I know karate. I might as well tell you that now. I'm from the big city, where women know how to take care of themselves. So just back off." She narrowed her gaze to let him know she was serious.
He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth. Rebecca suspected he was hiding a smile, but he turned his back on her before she got a good look at his eyes to verify that. A minute or two passed, then he faced her again.
"You're okay here? I went to bed, and then thought I should be sure this is all right for you."
"I'm fine. Great. The couch has a couple of lumps, but it's better than the seat of that little car I've spent eternity in today. Thanks." She added it as an after thought.
"Well. You're welcome. I'll add a couple sticks to the fire, then it should carry through for a while. But it's a cold night out there."
Rebecca knew that, and acknowledged the truth of it by sliding back down, pulling the comforter more securely around her, and tightly closing her eyes to avoid seeing the man. Or the man in the flames. She heard him adding logs to the fire, and felt rather than saw him stand back up, walk the few steps toward her. She kept her eyes closed as he softly bid her good night and walked out of the room again.
David paced the small bedroom. This year's Christmas Eve vigil was ruined, that much was sure. He always yearned for the Christmas break from work, but this year he'd been obsessed with his need to get to the cabin. He was better this year. His wounds were healing. So he didn't understand his near-desperation to get to the mountain for Christmas Eve. Why was it even more important this year?
Holly.
Her name whispered through his mind. She was his reason for being here at all, of course. If she'd come with him for Christmas, she'd have made sure their suitcases had been packed early. She would have included his favorite shirts, neatly ironed, and for the Christmas dinner with the rest of the McClain clan at his mom and dad's house, the silly reindeer necktie she'd bought him at a consignment shop in downtown Knoxville. The tie played "Jingle Bells" when you squeezed the little music box hidden in the hem of the tie.
It also played "Jingle Bells" if Holly gave him a really great hug, which she so often did.
Had. Past tense. Not anymore. And not for a very, very long time.
Back in Knoxville he had a nice big house in a suburb with a big lawn and a big garage, and a big swimming pool in the back. He'd bought it all for Holly. Without her it was just a place to eat and sleep ... and work.
But this cabin. It was special, even though he came here alone. Holly had told him it would be, hadn't she?
He lay down on the cold sheets, pulled the covers up around him, and hoped for sleep. Surely he would dream of Holly.
Rebecca slept, but awakened each time the man entered the room and stoked the fire. She thought he did so three or four times in the night, and she could tell he tried to be quiet. Sometime during the night she decided they were the only two people in the cabin. She didn't hear anyone else, and certainly didn't see anyone else. She tried not to be glad, tried to rein in that stupid romantic nature that had so recently sprung up from somewhere and needed to go back again. She tried very hard not to watch the flames, not to imagine other flames.
You can't trust anyone.
She awoke again, and in the thin rays of dawn watched him put wood into the fireplace. She noticed his large hands, and how talented they were in setting each log in exactly the right place so that it quickly caught a licking flame and became a source of heat.
"You do that very well." She said it softly because neither of them had spoken in such a long time.
"Boy Scout." His answer was succinct, but not quite harsh.
That figured. He looked like a grown-up Boy Scout. The perfect example of manhood, from what she could see. Of course his generally sullen manner didn't make one feel like being led across a busy street by him. But then Rebecca realized she had let him undress her with very little objection. She hadn't been herself at the time, of course. Too weak to protest.
"Breakfast?"
Well, there was word number three for the morning. At least she wouldn't be bored to death by constant chatter.
Above the howl of the wind they heard a loud crack, a long creak, then a snap and a crash that shook the cabin. The floor lamp went dark, leaving the room lit only by pale morning light reflected off the snow outside.
Jumping up from the couch, doing her best to hold the comforter around her, Rebecca panicked for a moment. Then she found herself held tightly in the man's strong embrace.
"Hey. Calm down. Sounds like a tree fell. Probably the weight of too much snow on its branches. But you're okay, right?" He loosened his hold, looked down into her eyes and shook her gently till she looked up at him. "You're okay."
Even in the dim light, his blue eyes were sincere and reassuring. "Yes. I'm fine. It was just loud. I was startled." It galled her to seem weak, even for a moment.
He nodded. Releasing her, he turned and walked toward the back of the cabin. "Let me see what happened. Be right back." He went out a door at the far side of the tiny kitchen, and returned almost immediately.
"Damn. Garage is smashed. Did a number on my Jeep, too." He flipped the kitchen light switch. "Figures. Took out the electric line." He flipped the switch back to the off position, and walked the couple of steps to the stove. "So. Back to the topic. Breakfast?"
Well, Boy Scouts are always prepared. Not easily flustered either, it would seem. "Breakfast would be divine. Can I help in the kitchen?"
"Not the way you're dressed. Or rather, not dressed." He shrugged. "Guess I'd better find something for you to wear."
"I have a suitcase in the car."
"Great. And the car is located where?"
"Well, out there someplace." She gestured, catching the comforter as it slid again. "I can get to it, I think." She shivered at the thought of putting on her wet clothes and trudging back through the snow.
"Yeah. Maybe later. For now I'll see what I can find." He started to leave the room, then turned back to her. "So, the case you brought in doesn't have clothes in it, just your laptop, I'm guessing. Awesome."
She glared at him, and he left the room.
Fifteen minutes later Rebecca was dressed. Sort of. A white sleeveless cotton t-shirt was covered by a huge red-and-black plaid flannel shirt whose sleeves were rolled back several times to allow her hands some freedom. The tails hung well past her knees. A pair of the man's sweat pants were cinched around her small waist with the belt from a green plaid flannel bathrobe. The pants were comically long on her, but had elastic at the ankle. The extra fabric flopped against the hardwood floor as she walked. She didn't know where her bra or the rest of her clothes had gone, and didn't feel like bringing up the topic.
"So. I guess it's Christmas Day. Merry Christmas, um ... What did you say your name is?"
"Right. Merry Christmas. And I didn't say." He scowled at her.
Nice.
"You know my name."
"So? Oh, okay, what's the difference? I'm David."
Rebecca stuck out her hand. "Glad to meet you, David. Merry Christmas, and thank you for saving my life."
"Huh. You're right. I probably did." He frowned again, and turned his back. Rebecca thought she heard him mutter something like "wrong woman."
A short while later they were sitting at the simple square pine kitchen table by a small window, feasting on fried eggs, oven toast, and orange juice.
"It's snowing again this morning, but maybe not as hard as last night." Rebecca squinted through the ice-trimmed glass pane. "I think I see trees."
It unnerved her a bit when she turned back toward him and caught him studying her profile. She consciously stopped her nervous habit of twisting the back of her large diamond stud earring.
"Trees, yeah, lots of 'em. Maybe some deer, too. Or ... a bear."
"A bear? Seriously?"
"Oh yeah. Don't tell me you've never heard of the black bears of the Smoky Mountains. Where do you think you are?"
Hell, maybe. Really cold, white, snowy Hell, and I'm having breakfast with the big bad guy himself. Bears?
She shook her head to clear it. "Oh. Well. And when do you think the snow might stop? And the electricity might be fixed?"
"No telling. I could listen to the weather radio about the forecast, I guess. The power won't be back on for a while. I've got a couple old kerosene lanterns, and the fridge and stove run on propane gas. There's plenty of wood in the garage, fortunately in the part that isn't totally caved in, so we're okay for now."
He held up his hand when she was about to speak. "To answer your next question, the roads won't be cleared soon. Could be days." He sipped his coffee, then got up to refill it from the pot still heating on the stove.
"Days?" Rebecca thought she actually felt her heart stop for a second.
"Yeah, they won't start plowing till the snow's done, and besides, this road's not a priority. Nobody lives out this far."
"Except you." Rebecca took a bite of egg that suddenly seemed cold and rubbery.
"No, not really."
He might listen to a weather radio, but didn't seem inclined to do so. And he didn't live here ... not really. She didn't have the ax murderer feeling about good old David, but he was definitely odd.
"You don't live out here." It was a statement. She dared him to refute it.
"Nope." He finished his toast, pushed his plate away, and leaned back again for another swig of the strong coffee.
"Okay! Great! Thanks for sharing." She picked up her plate and hopped up from her chair. "Where's the garbage?"
"You're not done."
"Lost my appetite. Garbage?"
"Clean your plate, woman. There's just a couple bites. You don't want to waste food in a blizzard."
"What are you talking about?"
"Do you see a Piggly Wiggly in the back yard? What food is here is all we've got for the duration, missy. I bought enough for myself for a few days, and now it has to last both of us till the weather breaks and the roads are passable."
"Oh." Chastised, and feeling stupid beyond measure, Rebecca forked up the last of her food in a huge bite and chewed without tasting. She was stuck in a little cabin heated only by wood, and lighted only by a couple of kerosene lanterns and whatever came through the windows. Romantic with the right person. Deliciously romantic. But she was imprisoned with Mr. Survival Kit instead of, say, someone with a personality. Just her luck.
She laid her fork onto the empty plate with a slight clatter. "I'm guessing a Piggly Wiggly is a grocery store?"
"You got it in one."
"Wonderful."
David pushed back his chair, took his plate and mug to the sink and stacked hers with them. He turned off the gas under the coffee. "Gotta conserve."
Which made her shiver.
Then he stalked into the tiny living room and took a little radio off a shelf. With a turn of his wrist, he pulled out a handle and cranked the thing, then flicked a switch.
A crackling computer-generated voice began to recite weather statistics and warnings for the eastern half of Tennessee. Since it was electronic, the monotone voice emphasized the wrong syllable part of the time, as well as using technical terms Rebecca didn't often hear. Then another equally indecipherable computer took over in a female type voice.
"It's almost like listening to a conversation between two fluent French speakers, isn't it?" She strained to make out the gist of it.
He looked up at her from the chair, one brow cocked. "I really wouldn't know. We don't speak a lot of French in these parts."
In these parts? Was this Deliverance or something? Though she suddenly couldn't recall where Deliverance was filmed, or exactly what it was about, the crazy theme song started playing in her head.
David snapped off the weather radio when the hand-crank powered signal began to wane. "Answer your question?"
"Um. Snow?"
"Snow should end by noon, then continued cold. It's not like we're going to have a big thaw anytime soon. We. Are. Stuck."
"Okay, fine. You don't have to talk down to me. I just couldn't understand those mechanical voices." She huffed her way across the tiny room and threw herself down onto the couch. She crossed her arms, even as she realized how childish she was being.
"This weather is freakish for the area, so there's not a lot of highway department equipment available to deal with it. Somehow we're gonna have to make the best of it. We're in this together, missy."
"Please have the couth not to call me 'missy'. I'm a grown woman, and my name is Rebecca. Use it."
He looked her up and down slowly, as if she weren't wearing the mismatched clothes, or even the down comforter. The intensity of his inspection caused her to feel warm, too warm, all over.
"Tiny as you are, you still don't have to point out the 'grown woman' part. I may be a mountain hick, but I'm not blind." He took a deep breath. "We're in this together, Rebecca, and you need to make the best of it. I'm trying to, but your attitude is ... Anyone ever tell you to lighten up?" He stalked away to the bedroom and slammed the door.
Pretty much everyone in Rebecca's life had told her at one point or another that she needed to lighten up. Some people had been less tactful about it, used ugly words to say the same thing. She didn't mean to be overly critical or controlling. It just came naturally. Worked great for the day job, but for relationships, not so much. Stephen had understood, gently teased her about it, and loved her in spite of it. Gerald hadn't had enough invested to care one way or another. Blaine was probably thrilled to be on the other side of the Atlantic, away from his overpowering mother. Thinking of this made Rebecca more tired and sad than she'd been since leaving the City. What was wrong with her these days? What a mess her life was! She felt a million years old.
David stood at the small window of the bedroom, staring out but not focusing. Why had this exasperating woman landed on his doorstep? She'd completely ruined his annual Christmas Eve vigil, and now he was responsible for her welfare.
Why was he always taking care of people? He'd left his day job behind, and was supposed to have some time up here to be a little selfish. David always did his best to solve people's problems, even when they probably didn't deserve it, but it took a toll. He'd graduated law school at the top of his class, got lots of attention as a ruthless and successful attorney. That resulted in an easy win as a circuit court judge in Knoxville. It was an exhausting job, at least the way he did it. So right now he was worn out, wishing for peace and quiet instead of the harridan in the next room. This was his Christmas vacation, after all. He shouldn't have to be saddled with yet another lost soul. Why did he have to be the good guy, even when he didn't want to be?
He reached down toward the bedside chest and ran a forefinger along the cold, smooth edge of the white pillar candle he'd lit last night, but which had blown out in the gust of wind that arrived with Rebecca. The vigil was to have lasted from six o'clock Christmas Eve night to six o'clock on Christmas morning, just as usual. Just as he'd done it for years.
Holly.
She'd loved Christmas, loved having a name associated with her favorite time of year. Every Christmas they'd had together, even when money was tight, she'd found ways to make the holiday special and memorable. One year when there wasn't much cash, she learned to make his favorite dessert, cherry pie with delicate flaky crust, exactly like his mother's. She'd spent untold hours at his parents' house learning the skill. Each year of their marriage they went shopping for a new tree ornament, one that would represent something special they'd shared during the year. David never really cared what ornament they bought. He just liked watching Holly's face as she shopped. She absolutely lit up when she was happy or excited. He could still picture the glow she had at Christmas, when everything made her that way.
Holly had been a detail person, but with her it wasn't obnoxious. With her it had been about making things work right, so the people she cared about knew they were special. David's family had loved Holly like one of their own. The McClain family was a tight clan, with a strong Scottish ancestry of lairds and warriors. Even on this side of the ocean, and through the generations, some things stayed the same. The importance of family and home. The day David married Holly, she became a McClain. The day she died, the whole family wept. They continued to weep five years later, but David knew that now the tears were for him, the man who still mourned a lost love. Holly, the woman who had lit up the McClain Christmas gatherings with her infectious enthusiasm, had died in a head-on collision with a drunk driver on Christmas Eve.
The accident had occurred in front of this little cabin, just after Holly pulled into the road to return to David's parents' house where she'd left David. She had said she'd be back in a little while after putting final touches on his Christmas gift. She had bought the cabin for him---for them---as a weekend retreat. With some help from David's siblings and parents, Holly had managed the purchase and clean-up of the old structure without David's knowledge. She had hurried to the cabin on Christmas Eve to put up and decorate a simple little cedar tree cut from the fence row.
When the state policeman had located David at his parents' home and given him the news about Holly's death, he'd been in shock. After a while, though, his brother Joe insisted he go see the cabin Holly had intended to surprise him with. They entered the cold building in mid-January, and David's eye immediately went to the Christmas card on the simple coffee table. Inside, in Holly's rounded handwriting it said:
David, I love you with all my heart, and always will. I hope this little cabin is a place that will give you some solace. A retreat. You work so hard, sometimes it scares me. The first time I stepped into the cabin, I knew it could be special. I knew, somehow, that you could find what you need here. I dearly hope you will give it a chance. Yours always, Holly.
It had taken some counseling for David to stop blaming himself for Holly's death. And his annual vigil couldn't bring her back. He'd never expected that. The vigil had always been about setting time aside to remember, and giving the cabin a chance to help him heal, as Holly had somehow believed it should hold importance for him.
His job in the city kept him busy, and even when he wasn't at work, he thought about work. He couldn't turn off his mind to the hurt, suffering, and unfairness he saw daily. In a way, he was glad the past few years had been so busy, partly so he wouldn't have to think about the pain in his own life.
But each Christmas Eve he drove to the little weekend cabin on the mountain outside his hometown of Legend, Tennessee, and spent twelve hours straight just remembering Holly. Missing her. Loving her. And trying to discover what it was he was supposed to find here.
Each year a few weeks ahead of time, he ordered a special white pillar candle guaranteed to burn the whole twelve hours. When the twelve hours was done, it would be just a used-up lump, ready for the trash, after having served its purpose. That was the way he felt too, by six o'clock in the morning each Christmas Day---used up. He thought that, like the candle, he'd also pretty much served his purpose, taking care of other people for basically three hundred and sixty-four days in a row.
Each Christmas morning when his vigil ended, and the candle was out, David would shower and head toward Legend for a big family Christmas with his mom and dad, sisters Maureen and Janelle, brother Joe, and his wife and kids. Later in the day, the rest of the family would begin to arrive. The place would be packed with aunts and uncles and cousins of all ages. David couldn't remember just what the current McClain population was in the county. His cousin Mike and Betsy's baby was one of the youngest. That little blonde bombshell, LizBeth Ann, was nearly two years old and a complete heartbreaker. Maybe another one of the cousins was pregnant or had a younger kid. David lost track because he spent most of his time away from family, in the city. It was important to him, though, to know the family was there for him. And if any of them needed David, or Uncle David, or cousin David or brother David, they knew he was just a phone call away. All the McClains were like that. Absolutely dedicated to one another. That was how it should be.
The woman out there. Did she have family? Was someone worrying about why she wasn't where she was supposed to be? She said she was on the way to visit a friend. Was the friend worrying and wondering?
Was the friend a woman or a man?
Where had that thought come from? David didn't care if Rebecca was on her way to meet a man. He didn't care if she was on her way to meet a whole houseful of men. He just wanted her gone.
He shook his head slowly, groaning a little. No. He didn't really want her gone. For the first time in what seemed like eternity, he was attracted to a woman. When Holly's flame had been blown out on the coffee table last night, David wasn't angry as he expected to be. As he would have been a couple of years ago, or even last year. Instead, he was a little relieved, as if he'd finally finished his grieving. It was time to move on. Now he wondered how to take the first step toward the very prickly, but also very interesting, Rebecca Mayfield. He thought maybe she was here for him. He ran his finger around the edge of the candle again. What was it Holly had said?
The first time I stepped into the cabin, I knew it could be special. I knew, somehow, that you could find what you need here. I dearly hope you will give it a chance.
So, was it possible that Rebecca's car going off the road in front of this cabin was...
"It stopped!"
Her voice was surprisingly loud considering the tiny woman was in the next room and the door between them was closed. She had some lung power. What stopped?
David went into the living room and saw the jubilation on her face. She was much better looking when she was happy. Quite lovely in fact.
Hm.
"It stopped!" She actually clapped her small hands together. He expected to see her jump for joy, and she suddenly looked energetic enough to do it. "No more snow!"
He walked to the window to verify. He had just been standing at a window, but was so lost in thought he'd paid no attention. Sure enough, the snow had stopped, and the sun was beginning to shine. The clouds moved slowly eastward.
"Now if we just had a phone, we could call the highway department or the police or something."
"I guess. But they'll be covered up for a while, trying to clear out the main roads first. Like I told you..."
"I know. Nobody lives out this far."
One of her delicate eyebrows raised when she said it, and she began to pace. This didn't look good. Was she going to pace the entire time till someone came to rescue her? It made him think of a lawyer pacing the courtroom.
"So. David. Do you have a phone here? A cell?"
Yeah, here came the questioning. She was definitely putting him in mind of a lawyer. Not good. He wasn't in the mood. Not when he was trying to have a holiday. And definitely not when he was trying to recall how to be charming.
"You do, don't you?" She spun around, confronted him.
He walked leisurely to the armchair and sank into its depths. "Yeah, I have a cell. Service here is haphazard though. Somebody you need to call?"
"I'd like to. She isn't really expecting me, but if there's a chance I'm not horribly far from where she lives, I should at least give it a try. Figure out which direction to go once the roads are cleared."
She. The friend was a she.
"So why didn't you ask before?"
"What would have been the point?" She paced back to the window, looked hard at the snow as if willing it to melt.
"To keep your friend from worrying, I guess."
"She won't be worrying. I didn't really tell her I was coming for sure. Still, I'd like to call now." She paced back to him, held her hand out. "Phone?"
Lord, the woman was irritating. How had he thought her attractive for even a moment? She was entirely too small, for one thing. You could put a picture of her in the dictionary next to the word "petite." Glossy head of short dark hair that was straight as a stick but turned under at the ends, big emerald-green eyes, lips ... oh yeah, some gorgeous full lips. And a nice little body he'd seen in its entirety for a few seconds last night before wrapping her in the comforter.
Yeah, she definitely looked good. But her personality would take some getting used to. She was a spitfire for sure. Not like Holly, who'd always focused on everyone else's best interest. Rebecca seemed like someone who was used to looking out for Number One. He dealt with her type all the time in his work. Irritating, greedy, grasping ... Rebecca would have to be in the category of an acquired taste. Hm. The word "taste" brought some interesting thoughts to mind.
And she was a nervous little thing. "Highly strung" might be the politically correct term. She stood tapping her tiny foot in his big cotton sock on the wide-board pine floor. Her voice ... it had a real northeastern bite. Reminded him of someone. Her knuckles were white where she held onto the window frame. He figured she was trying to keep herself from pacing. Then she started twisting the back of her diamond stud earring. Yeah, nervous. But about what?
"Just a minute." David got up from his chair and slowly walked to the bedroom. Might as well let her use the cell. No reason not to. Unless he wanted to keep her here a while longer, cut off from the rest of the world so he could get to know her a little bit. Try to resurrect whatever he had left of the McClain charm. When he finally re-entered the room and handed the phone to her, it was still powering up. The friendly AT&T logo flashed across the tiny monitor. Then in the welcome screen flashed "David McClain."
"McClain? That's your name?"
"Yeah. How---oh yeah, the phone. So?"
"You're not related to Martin McClain, are you?"
"He's a cousin."
"Are we near his house?"
"Hey, hold on here. How do you know Martin?"
"Midnight's the friend I was on the way to visit."
David smacked his forehead. "Midnight! That's who you remind me of. Your big city attitude, the designer shoes and clothes that don't fit in around here. Your dialect." Her unmistakable class, even in his cast-off clothes. But he'd keep that to himself.
"Their place isn't too far. A few miles closer to town. Takes just a few minutes on dry roads. Today, with snow shoes, maybe a couple of hours."
"Do you have some?"
"Some what?"
"Snow shoes. Do you have some?"
He laughed nervously. Was she actually nuts?
"Well? Do you?"
"Let me find the number here." Ignoring her crazy insistence, he scrolled down the list of McClains in his cell directory. A minute later, he'd made the call and handed the phone to Rebecca again, hoping she'd forget about snow shoes. She must be desperate to get away from him.
"Hi! No, it's not David. I'm using David's phone. Martin? Hi. This is Rebecca Mayfield ... Yes, that Rebecca Mayfield ... Well, totally by chance, actually. He just happened to be in a cabin near the pile of snow I drove my rental car into last night ... Well, sort of a rescue I guess ... Yes, I'm fine. The electricity is out ... Um. I guess you could call it 'cozy.' Martin, is Midnight close by? Yes, I'd like to if you don't mind ... Thanks."
David sat back down in the chair and watched her tap her sock-clad foot while she waited for Midnight to pick up.
"Hey there yourself! I'm fine! No, really, I am fine. It was just a tremendously long drive. I think it was supposed to be four or five hours in good weather, and then the snow started ... Yes, it was a little scary..."
David watched in amazement as the indomitable Rebecca Mayfield's delicate porcelain features drew up and prepared to cry.
"But I'm okay." He could barely hear the words, and he was just a couple of feet away from her. Rebecca absently wiped away tears as she cleared her throat and tried to regain her voice.
He stood and went to her, put an arm around her narrow shoulders. It felt good to hold her even like that. He was shocked by the impact of it. Remembering his purpose, he gave her shoulders a slight squeeze.
"You are okay, Rebecca," he whispered into her ear away from the phone. She nodded her head, sniffed slightly, and gave him a watery smile.
"Midnight, we're at David's cabin and the electricity is out because of a tree that fell and pulled down the line. I don 't know how long I'll---how long we'll be stuck here, so I wonder if you could do me a favor ... Yes. Okay, could you write this down?" She recited an email address. "Could you please email Blaine and let him know what's happened? I'm sure he's tried to call me to say Merry Christmas, but with the cell off, and my charger in the suitcase under the snow ... No, I have no idea what the number is. It's just stored in my dead cell phone ... So could you please email Blaine and let him know I'm fine? Thanks, Midnight ... Yes, please do call if he writes back. Thanks so much! ... What? Stuck with a what?"
David was still standing very near, though he'd taken his arm away after she collected herself. She slid a look at him while listening to Midnight for a moment. "No, I had no idea ... Yes, we've talked. Stop that! It's just a cabin with no electricity, it's not a ... Hey, I need to go, okay? Give me a break here ... Yes, I hope to see you soon too. Merry Christmas! Okay ... bye." She snapped the phone closed and held it out to David, who smoothly skimmed it out of her palm without touching her.
Who the hell is Blaine? He tossed the phone onto the rough coffee table. The piece of sleek technology skidded to a stop and lay there looking incongruous. And it felt incongruous for him to own the damned thing. He hated the cell ... hated that he had to have it, and that work so often caught up with him because of it. Even out here, where, if life were fair, the mountains would make cell service impossible.
"Thanks for the use of your phone. I'll pay for the minutes."
"I've got a million of 'em. Not a problem."
She leaned back against the cabin wall, piercing him with a look. It was intense enough you could call it the look. He'd bet there were people who cowered when she leveled it at them. He pictured a courtroom, an uncomfortable witness, and this determined spiteful little attorney starts toward them with the look...
She pushed away from the wall and walked slowly toward him, her arms crossed over her chest. "So. David. I seem to have made an incorrect assumption here. I thought you were a mountain man, since you happened to be in this remote cabin, and you're so comfortable with being snowed in, not worrying about the electricity going off. Et cetera. But Midnight tells me you're an ... an attorney."
"Attorney. Well. I don't throw the word around. Tends to make people nervous, or worse." He leaned back further into the chair, and crossed his ankles in front of him. "Don't feel like you need to tell me any lawyer jokes. I'm not a fan. I have to be honest with you though, it's even worse than Midnight told you. I'm a judge."
From the look on her face, Midnight hadn't told her that part. He wished he could go back to being just David to her.
"Oh, my!" She laughed tightly. "Don't look so horrified though---I don't tell lawyer or judge jokes. I find most of them tasteless."
"Well then, Rebecca. We have something in common after all."
"We have more in common than that. I'm an attorney. No wonder we've been circling each other so warily ever since we met." She threw back her head then, and really laughed. "Of all the people in the world, I end up snowbound with a judge! There is some kind of evil justice in that. If you'll pardon the phrase."
"Hey---Evil justice? I'm not that bad." He managed to look offended, he hoped. Was he up to "charming" yet, or at least making some progress toward it?
She sank onto the couch. "Well, no. You're not that bad. In fact, you had me fooled into thinking you were human this whole time. So you must have some redeeming qualities in spite of being---"
"Ode to Joy" began to play and Rebecca automatically grabbed the cell phone from the table and opened it.
"Hello ... Blaine! Oh, Merry Christmas, honey! Yes, I'm fine! ... Sorry about that. Yes, I headed out at the last minute, rather ill-prepared for ... Uh-huh. Yes, okay ... I'll do that, as soon as I can! Merry Christmas! I love you, too!"
"That's funny. You and I have the same ring tone." She snapped the phone closed and lay it gently on the table, then leaned back with a happy, nearly serene look on her face. David certainly hadn't seen her look serene before. So this guy Blaine was...
"My son. He's studying at Oxford for two semesters. He was worried about me. Isn't that sweet?"
"Oh yeah. Sweet." It was also a relief. Her son. If he was at Oxford, she must be older than she looked. All right. He was interested in an older woman. Interested. Though it still surprised him, he had to acknowledge it. He wanted to get to know Rebecca Mayfield very, very well. In every possible sense of the word. He hoped the road wouldn't be cleared for a good long time. He hoped...
"So, Rebecca. Other kids, or just the one?" Might as well find out the lay of the land.
"Just one. Stephen and I were busy with careers. One child was all I could take time for." She waved her hand dismissively. "I know that probably sounds terrible, but it's true. Blaine is a wonderful young man, but that's mostly in spite of me. I'm not patient, and wasn't a very good mother, especially when he was young. Nurturing was never my forte."
"You're probably being too hard on yourself there, especially if the kid turned out so well."
"Mostly Stephen's doing. Really."
"And Stephen is...?"
"My husband. Late husband." She looked away for a moment, then back, locking her gaze with David's. Was she daring him to look away? "Stephen died of a massive heart attack some time ago."
"Oh. Sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have asked."
"It's fine. I'm fine with it, now. But at first it was excruciating. I blamed myself because I didn't make him go to the doctor more regularly. Or make certain he ate healthier foods, kept more reasonable hours. Both of us led that lifestyle, but for Stephen it turned out to be deadly. For me it's just ... Well." She linked her fingers together and held them out, studying her nails. "Stephen and I were everything to each other. Friends, lovers, law partners, parents. Soul mates. And Blaine is determined to be just like his dad. He's a hard worker, and for his age he's already got an impressive list of accomplishments. He'll be a great attorney."
"But?"
"Yes. But I wonder if that's a good choice for him.
"It's his choice."
"Yes." She looked away. "Yes, I know. But sometimes it's a hard life. The stress. Lately it's worn on me more than ever. I need to do better at dealing with it, my doctor tells me. I suppose I should get on that soon." She pulled her feet up under her. "Since we're delving into personal lives, tell me about yours." David wondered if maybe she'd been bothered by his questioning and wanted to turn the spotlight away. Or did she really want to know a little about him? He decided to keep it upbeat.
"Personal life? Me? Don't really have one right now. Unless you'd like to start a new chapter for me." That was a little bit charming wasn't it?
"Ha." She leaned her chin on one palm. "You're not dodging the question. I answered you. Now you just need to do the same for me. Why do you make everything so difficult?"
David remembered asking her a similar question a while earlier.
"Okay, turnabout is fair play and all that." He took a deep breath. "I'm single. My wife Holly died five years ago. Drunk driver." He saw Rebecca shiver in response. "So it's me. I'm it. We never had kids. Holly couldn't. She'd been sick when she was young. She told me long before we got married, in case I wanted to dump her because of that." He chuckled. "We talked about adoption, but ... well, like you said, we were busy." He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "At least I was busy, always working long hours and weekends, implementing my career plan. Holly had a more reasonable schedule. She wanted to have a couple of kids. She died when she was twenty-six. We thought there was plenty of time."
She nodded. "Ah. I know what you mean. In the legal profession, we get caught up in putting out fires, don't we? It's so easy to postpone important things."
He looked at her, and thought again about Holly's Christmas note to him. "And sometimes you don't realize what you're doing until it's too late."
"Yes." How awful for David to have lost his young wife that way. Rebecca thought of Stephen, how much she'd mourned him. She thought of Blaine, who was grown now, and doing well, thank goodness. She didn't want another real relationship, the kind with a shared address and more than one toothbrush in the holder. She missed Stephen, but knew better than to try to replace him. It would never happen. What should be important to Rebecca at this point was having a life of her own. She'd never had one of those, really.
The fling with Gerald was already a non-event to her. He'd just been a way to kill time, she suddenly realized. Same for the two---or was it three?---others before Gerald. Those "relationships" had just been a way to avoid dealing with a future ... alone. And work was just work. She knew it, even though she'd thrown herself into the law practice as if it could save her soul.
She wondered sometimes, especially in the last several months, if it were doing the opposite. No! This line of thought wasn't productive. She really, really needed to get out of this cabin, away from this man who was causing her to think too much about some hard issues she had been so successfully avoiding.
"So. About those snow shoes. Do you really have some?"
"Snow shoes? Well, yes. They were left here by the previous owner. This old guy who sorta was a mountain man. But they're not any good. They're the old wooden kind, and the humidity got to 'em. They're warped beyond repair. Sorry."
She could see he wasn't sorry. She was certain he wasn't telling the entire truth either. What was up? Did he think she was too much of a wimp to walk a few miles in snow shoes? Not that she'd ever tried it. Not that she ever exercised beyond running for a cab or walking a few flights of stairs when an elevator broke. Fine. She was stuck here for the duration. Great.
"Hm. Maybe it's just as well. If I'm here another day or so, at least it keeps me from what Midnight had planned."
"Oh? And what was that?"
"She had some guy she wanted to introduce me to. Ugh." She shivered slightly. "I'm not interested. So I'm probably better off up here anyway. Good thing the snow shoes are ruined."
"Hard for me to picture Midnight playing matchmaker. That doesn't sound like her. She's so level-headed."
Rebecca noticed a trailing thread on the hem of the flannel shirt she was wearing, and started to pull at it. "Not when it comes to relationships. Not really."
"Oh?"
She glared up at him for a second. "Sorry. That's all I can say."
"Attorney-client privilege."
"I didn't say that." The thread got longer and longer as she tugged.
"You didn't have to say it. I figured it out. You were her divorce lawyer, I bet. Yeah, you have the temperament."
"Just what does that mean?"
"Oh, not much. Just thinking 'shark.' The good ones are like sharks. You just happen to be well-disguised. I'll bet you're hell in the courtroom, though." He linked his fingers behind his head and leaned back.
"Yes, I'm hell in the courtroom. It's what I do. And I do it extremely well. Everyone in the City knows it, in fact. Important people come to me to represent them in their divorces. Important people who don't want to hire me come in and pay for a consultation so I'll have a conflict of interest and not be able to represent their spouse. I'm just that good. You have a problem?" She stared at him, daring him to say yes. Why did she suddenly feel the need to defend her livelihood to this guy?
"Hey! Stop pulling that thread. You're gonna take the hem out of the shirt. Don't you know if you keep pulling, the whole thing will fall apart?"
Rebecca let go of the thread and stared at David. Don't you know if you keep pulling, the whole thing will fall apart? That's pretty much what was happening in her life. She kept pulling, kept doing the same thing over and over, and her life did seem to be unraveling. Blaine loved her, but he was glad to be away from her. The employees and associate attorneys tolerated her because she paid them well. She had few friends, none of whom she could count on except Midnight Shelby McClain.
What a revelation. She desperately hated her life.
David's voice was softer when he spoke next. "Hey. Don't look like that. I'm not saying anything terrible about your work. There's a place in the world for it. If that's what you do, and you can still sleep nights, my hat's off to you, Rebecca."
She jumped up, making certain her posture was perfect so she was every inch of her diminutive height. "I don't care about your hat, David McClain. I think you know where you can put it, and your opinion."
She stomped, another ineffective move in stocking feet, into the kitchen just to get out of his sight. What a holier-than-thou jerk. Probably had some little courtroom in Podunk, Tennessee, hearing small claims cases all day long. What did he know about the real practice of law? What did he know about the stress, and the long hours, and the fact that you don't get to have a personal life---not a real one---because every single day lasts forever and you're always preparing the next case to be ready for whatever the other side is going to throw at you? What could David Mountainman Boyscout McClain know about any of it?
Rebecca paced the tiny kitchen, her hands balled into fists so tight her fingernails dug into her palms. Being snowbound in a cabin with a tall, dark, handsome, delicious ... being snowbound with a guy should be sweet and romantic, at the very least. The man was a hunk, pure and simple. When he tried, he could even be pleasant to talk with. So why did he have to pick at her?
But maybe she'd been a smidge unpleasant too. Perhaps if she mellowed out a little bit, so would he. They could get to know each other. It had been going well for a little while when they'd talked about Stephen and Holly, after all. That seemed a good start. So maybe if both of them tried a little harder...
But why try? She'd soon be out of here, and they'd never see each other again. She remembered the figures she'd seen in the fireplace flames. Maybe just a little something in a mountain cabin wouldn't be distasteful to either of them. Maybe, just to pass the time, or conserve warmth, or whatever excuse, they should get a little bit cozy...
Rebecca put a palm to her head and realized all this sophomoric conjecture was giving her a headache.
I want out of here, and now. I can't stand to be cooped up with him any longer!
She yanked open the door to the garage and tried to see inside. There were some small windows but not much light coming through them. She could make out the general shape of the caved-in roof on top of a dark vehicle. His Jeep, he'd said. It was cold and damp in there too, as the snow had come in. There really was no getting away in his vehicle.
Did she want to go because of what he'd said? Because he'd hit so close to home? Because he knew her better than he realized, even though he didn't know her at all?
"Hey. You're letting the cold in." His voice was soft and near. When she didn't answer, he walked over and stood next to her, quietly closed the door. She wished he would touch her. "Rebecca. You can't drive to Midnight's in my Jeep. It's not moving any time soon."
"I can see that. I'm not stupid."
"Of course you're not. Suddenly you're angry, though, and I'm not sure just why. Couldn't be that 'shark' comment, could it? Surely you're not that thin-skinned."
No, she usually wasn't. She looked him straight in the eye, to stare him down, which for some reason often worked with big men. "A polite host wouldn't call his house guest by a derogatory term. I think 'shark' would qualify as derogatory."
One of his dark brows arched at the statement. He crossed his strong arms and seemed to consider, all the while holding her eyes with his. "Hm. Maybe not. A polite host also might not jerk all the clothes off his house guest and wrap her in a down comforter to avoid hypothermia, either. Or let her sleep in the warmest place in the cabin, right by the fire, while he took the cold bedroom and icy sheets. What do you want, Rebecca? A polite host, or me?"
Shocked, Rebecca found herself at a loss for words. How horrible to realize she'd almost blurted out, "You" in answer to his silly question.
"There's an awful lot of tension in here right now," he said softly. "You know what would take care of that?"
Rebecca thought she might know exactly what could relieve the tension. She could think of several different ways they could go about it, too. Mmm. If only he were interested. She hoped her desire didn't show on her face. In the courtroom, she was known for her ability to keep her facial expression under control at all times. But right now, she didn't feel under control. She felt a bit under David McClain's spell, and it frightened her.
"I think what we need here, to help us de-stress a little bit, is to get things back where we were a few minutes ago. Let's not talk about work. I think that got us both riled up." Slowly, gently, David took her small hand in his big one and held it lightly so she could pull back if she chose. "We left work back in the City, right?"
She nodded, enjoying the soft Southern sound of his voice. Hoping to hear him say something sweet.
"It's just you and me here. No big fancy office or tufted leather chairs or tall judge's bench." He took her other hand and squeezed a little. "Just the two of us. So, if there's something you'd rather do instead of fighting, just say the word."
No. She couldn't just say the word. The word she'd been thinking a few minutes ago was sex. And then she realized, as David took her hands and held them so gently, reverently even, that maybe there could be something else here if the two of them let it have a chance. David McClain was not Stephen. But more importantly, he was not Gerald. She couldn't imagine having a physical-only relationship with David. Physical, yes. Yes! And soon would be very, very good.
But it couldn't be only physical. David was a man who cared about people, who loved deeply. Such a man wouldn't be interested in a fling. Such a man would expect more. Like commitment.
And that was a word Rebecca had shied away from for a long while.
"Rebecca? You in there?" He leaned down and peered into her eyes, then kissed the tip of her nose. It was not erotic. A nose-tip kiss was just silly, not at all arousing. So she slid her hands up his arms and used them to balance herself, then stood on tiptoe and nipped his chin. Just a small nip. With maybe a little bitty lick. Just to be silly back at him, really. It was not very much of a tease, unless he wanted to take it that way.
Evidently he did, because he leaned down and captured her mouth with his. Rebecca's eyes flew open in shock, surprise, and happiness. Yum! David was delicious. She'd had a suspicion he would be...
They suddenly heard the approach of a very loud vehicle.
Groaning, David pulled back from her and went quickly to a front window. "Great. I may have to kill him."
Rebecca joined him at the window and was amazed to see a Hummer pulling up toward the cabin. A handsome man drove it, with a big smile on his face.
"My brother Joe. Basically a nice guy. I never noticed how horrible his timing is, though. Let me just yell out the door at him to go away for a few days."
Rebecca stood next to him at the window, and caught his sleeve as he moved toward the door. "We can't do that. He's made the effort to rescue us."
"Trust me, he won't care. I'll tell him to get lost. Lord knows I've done it before. But he's hard-headed. Kind of a family trait." He reached over and squeezed Rebecca's hand.
"Quite a vehicle he has there. Interesting paint job, too." The brown-and-tan camouflage was glaringly out of place in the peaceful mountain setting.
"He's a mechanic. Has all kinds of vehicles brought to him, because he can fix anything. I forget who he said brought the Hummer, some retired Army general or something, but they were going to Florida for the winter, so Joe's had it in his big shed since he fixed it a couple months ago." David slapped his thigh and laughed briefly. "Leave it to a McClain!"
His face showed pride in his brother's accomplishment. She assumed that, in spite of what had been happening in the kitchen, he was relieved not to be snowbound with her any longer.
Joe McClain, tall and dark, and dressed in an orange parka, jeans, and some no-nonsense boots, jumped out of the Hummer and strode through the deep snow toward the cabin. David threw open the front door and met him. The two embraced unashamedly, then beat each other on the backs.
"Hey, Slob! You're makin' a snowy mess on my nice clean floor."
"What? You givin' me grief for comin' up here to rescue your sorry---uh---yeah." He smiled sheepishly at Rebecca. "You have company. Slipped my mind. Well, Ugly, if you don't want a mess, get me a rug or a towel or something. But first, introduce me to the lady."
In spite of herself, Rebecca was charmed by their macho posturing. She walked over and held out her hand, a sweet smile on her lips. "Mr. Slob, I'm the Shark." She tipped her head toward David. "Ugly here has told me so much about you."
Both men stared at her for a second, then burst into laughter.
Joe recovered first. "Shark, let me welcome you to our fair county. Sorry you had to be stuck with this goober, though. But we'll get you out of here and you can meet some decent people."
David groaned. "Oh, right. So you're suddenly the Welcome Wagon? Give me a break."
"Hey, check out my wagon!" He indicated the Hummer with a jerk of his head. "If I want to say welcome, who's gonna stop me? Not your sorry ... whoops, I keep forgetting. Anyway, the chariot's here. Gather up your stuff, Cinderella, and we'll head to the party!"
Joe's smile was infectious. Rebecca smiled back, then looked at David. He was smiling too, but there was something ... then she realized she didn't really want to get into the chariot with its handsome, jovial driver. She had an inclination to stay snowbound a while longer and find out what had been about to happen a few minutes ago in the kitchen, when David was talking about relieving tension.
"Yeah. We'd better get stuff packed up." David turned away and efficiently began to go through the cabin, putting things up, straightening. He tidied the already tidy kitchen, then went to the bedroom. Rebecca was at a loss. All she seemed to have was her laptop, and the mismatched clothes she wore.
"So, Shark, you doing okay?" Joe's smile and concern were genuine.
"Fine. I was lucky to run into a snowdrift so close to this cabin. I hate to think what might've happened otherwise."
He frowned. "Nothing good. That storm was nasty. Freakish for us, really. Even in the mountains we don't get storms like that."
"My timing really stinks, I guess."
He glanced toward the bedroom where David could be heard moving things, then winked at Rebecca. "Actually, I think your timing was excellent," he said softly.
Rebecca wanted to ask him to explain, but David came back into the tiny living room and Joe looked quickly toward him.
"You ready, Ugly?"
"I guess." He held Rebecca's ankle boots out to her. "Here. Put these on, for what they're worth. I don't have any real boots for you to wear. Your clothes are in my duffle." Which he dumped onto the floor. "And here's your coat thing." He tossed her emerald green cloak over the back of the overstuffed chair.
"I think I'd rather change into my own clothes---"
"No. Joe's here, we need to go. You can change later. Nobody's havin' a fashion show in Legend today."
Rebecca felt at a disadvantage having to go anywhere dressed like a street person. Sitting on the edge of the couch, she carefully zipped the thick socks into her ankle boots. "Well, can we at least get my suitcase out of the car?"
"And the car is where?" The brothers asked the question in unison.
She smiled reassuringly. "It's just a little distance down the road. Surely we can find it without too much trouble."
"Joe, it's in a ditch, and has been since like eleven last night. It's gonna be buried in drifts."
"And it's white." She hated to mention it, but felt compelled.
"Right. Sorry, Sharklady, you're gonna be without your suitcase another day or so. I've got a shovel and a strong back, but there are other people I need to get to. So I'm sure you understand---"
"Of course. I'm sorry. I hadn't thought." Rebecca chided herself for her selfishness. "They're just clothes. Thank you so much for coming out here, Joe. I appreciate it. We both do, right?" She looked at David.
"Oh yeah, right. Thanks so much, Joe." Was that a glare in his eyes, or the glare of the sun coming in the window?
David checked a couple more things, then arranged Rebecca's cloak across her shoulders. She pulled on the thin emerald green gloves and picked up her little purse he'd brought in with his duffle.
David opened the door and held the duffle, then Rebecca's laptop case, out to Joe.
"What? You can't carry your own stuff?"
"I gotta carry her."
She swung around to stare at him. "What? No you don't. I walked here---"
"And you nearly froze to death doing it. Those flimsy little boots aren't any better for snow today than they were last night. Come here."
"No. I can walk."
"You're not walking, Rebecca. Come here."
"You're being ridiculous."
Smiling and muttering, Joe picked up the duffle and trudged through the snow to the Hummer.
"You know what you need, Rebecca? You need to be taken down a peg or two. I could do it. But for now---" He scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder like Santa flings his pack onto his back. Except Santa's pack doesn't protest.
"Put me down!"
David stepped onto the snowy porch, pulled the door closed and locked it, as he balanced Rebecca with one hand on her upper thigh. She tried very hard not to like the way it felt.
"David. Seriously."
"Rebecca. Seriously. Shut up."
Reaching the passenger side of the vehicle, David quickly shifted Rebecca until she was lying in his arms, looking up at him, instead of across his shoulder, watching as they left the cabin behind. For a moment she thought he might kiss her again, thought she might let him. But Joe was watching their every move. She wondered what would have happened if David had politely told Joe to go rescue someone else for a while and then maybe come back here in a day or so to see what the status was. Instead, they'd be headed in different directions, and probably not see each other again.
The moment of opportunity for a kiss was quickly gone, if it had existed at all. Joe opened the rear passenger door from inside the truck, and David lifted Rebecca up into it. Closing the door quickly, he let himself into shotgun position.
Rebecca settled back, determined to forget what had almost happened in the cabin, and concentrate on seeing Midnight. That's why she'd made this trip, after all.
The scenery was beautiful. She could appreciate it now, riding in the big truck and feeling safe and warm. A thick blanket of pristine snow clung to limbs of evergreens, bowing them down with the weight. The sun shone brightly and the glare off the snow had her searching through her little purse until she found her sunglasses.
"My orders are to deliver Sharklady to Martin's, and take you to Mom and Dad's." Joe watched the road carefully as he spoke. "Sure would be easier if I knew where the edge of the road is."
"Well, bro, if you hit the ditch or run into a fence, I think you'll just climb over it in this thing."
"True enough, but if I scratch it, the owner might not be happy." He smiled grimly, staring straight ahead, and driving down what seemed to be the middle of the road bed, a U-shaped sluice with high sides that she decided were probably fences. "Even with all-wheel drive, this is no picnic, man. There's ice goin' on down there, in case you didn't know."
Rebecca hoped no one else was out driving the dangerous roads. No way could they safely meet another vehicle.
David rolled his window down halfway, and stuck his arm out, then flicked off some remnants of ice from the windshield. "Yeah, I heard ice hitting the roof yesterday evening. Probably should have packed up and hit the road immediately down to the home place, but ... well, I had things to do."
"I know, David. I know."
Rebecca recognized the sound of compassion in Joe's voice.
Shaken, she realized her life had probably been saved by David's snap decision to stay in the cabin instead of heading to town when the ice hit.
After a few minutes of driving, Joe stopped in front of a two-story log cabin. It sat near the road, and the narrow expanse of what was probably a lawn was now a sheet of pure white. Snow and ice, Rebecca reminded herself. Surrounded by more of the snow-laden pine trees, and with a thick plume of smoke rising from the chimney, it looked picture perfect. They stopped, and Joe shut off the engine.
"Don't want to waste gas. I've got some extra with me, but I sure don't want to run out. This thing is a guzzler, as you might have guessed."
The front door of the cabin opened, and Midnight Shelby McClain stepped outside, wearing a purple fleece jacket, snug jeans, and knee-high black leather boots. Her long black hair fell straight to the middle of her back, and shone nearly blue in the bright sunlight. A tall dark man with a goatee came out of the house behind her and followed at a slower pace, and then a younger version of the man. Obviously Martin and Daniel. What a beautiful family!
Without thinking, Rebecca opened her door and jumped out of the Hummer, rounding the corner of the vehicle just in time to be caught up in Midnight's tight hug.
"Becca! I'm so glad you're here! So glad you're okay!"
"Yeah, except for this tendency she has toward hypothermia. You want to go into the house, Rebecca, or stand here with snow way up past your toy boots and freeze to death?" Without waiting for an answer, David trudged past her, carrying her laptop case and purse.
She caught the eye roll he shot Martin as he walked past him, and heard one of them say, "Women!" with an edge of disdain in his voice.
Not caring, she walked arm in arm with Midnight toward the house, teetering and sliding on the ankle boots' stiletto heels, feeling the cold and wet soaking through the legs of the big sweat pants.
When the women stepped inside the cabin, the four men were sharing snow and ice stories. Midnight introduced Rebecca to her husband and stepson. It was impressive that Daniel had the manners to shake hands. Not bad for a fifteen year old.
Joe broke into David's story of the collapsed garage. "Well, that's one rescue safely completed. Now to deliver my big brother on down the road. See you all later?"
"Sure thing." Martin slapped Joe on the back and shook David's hand.
"You doing okay, David?" His voice was soft and full of concern.
"Yeah. I'm fine, Martin. I'll see you later."
"Glad to hear that. We miss you."
"I know. Same here."
Rebecca immediately loved the cabin. The large main room was a combination living-dining with a breakfast bar dividing it from the cozy kitchen beyond. In the large picture window stood a fresh evergreen tree tastefully decorated as only Midnight could do. A small library/study, laundry room, and bathroom completed the first floor. Three bedrooms and two full baths were upstairs. Midnight hurried Rebecca into the master bedroom.
"Our room has its own bath, so you can go ahead and shower in here. While you have a nice hot shower, or bath, I'll go through my closet and see if any of my clothes might not swallow you. I'd forgotten how tiny you are."
She closed the door and Rebecca pulled off the borrowed clothes and dropped them onto the floor. Then she picked up the flannel shirt again, looked at the partially unraveled hem, and held the shirt to her face. It smelled like David. How odd was that? Twenty-four hours ago she'd never even heard of him, and now, smelling his scent on a beat-up flannel shirt had her sighing and missing him.
She tossed the shirt back down. Of course it was silly. She was just having some sort of post traumatic stress thing, no doubt. She'd get over it, and him, quickly. Probably by the time she was in clean clothes, she'd have forgotten about him entirely.
David growled at Joe when his brother insisted on taking him to their parents' house instead of letting David go along on rescues. Although he understood the reason---to make Mom feel better---he didn't want to sit around on his folks' chintz furniture and talk about the weather. About the siblings, and their kids. He wanted to be out doing something. Because he seriously needed to distract his mind. Otherwise he was afraid he'd be thinking about Miz Rebecca Mayfield. That wouldn't do at all.
What might have happened if Joe hadn't shown up when he had? If they'd been able to stay in the cabin another few hours, or perhaps another day, would they have made love on the couch in front of the fire? Possibly. But Joe had to show up in the big machomobile and rescue them. Yee haw.
But a night of lovemaking with Miz Mayfield was not all he wanted. He wanted to spend time with her, get to know her better. There was definitely something...
"Hey! Ow!" David rubbed his shoulder where Joe had just punched him.
"Ugly! I said, get out of the truck! I got places to go! Stop mooning around, David, and figure out what you're gonna do about her. Man! You are so pathetic!" He practically shoved David from the truck. When he was barely out of the way, Joe pulled the vehicle out of their parents' drive, or yard---it was hard to tell which---and headed back up the road to see if some of the mountain families wanted to be brought to town till the roads were cleared.
Charles and Dorothy McClain met their eldest son at the door of their large white clapboard house and welcomed him with hugs and a big cup of black coffee. He sat in the kitchen with them for half an hour, drank the coffee, and recounted the highlights of his last eighteen hours or so.
"How are you, dear?"
"I'm fine, Mom."
She looked into his eyes for a long moment. "Yes, I think you are, David." With suspiciously bright eyes, she reached across the table and patted his hand. "I think you really are."
A short time later, David was soaking in an antique claw-foot tub of hot water, leaning back with his eyes closed as he relived every minute of the time he'd spent with Rebecca Mayfield.
This sure wasn't a relationship. It was more of a one-upsmanship. I could never care for somebody like that. She's nothing like Holly. His beloved wife had spent her short life helping people. When she was gone, David tried to do that for her. He tried to make a difference in peoples' lives. Sometimes he worked so hard at it that he exhausted himself in the process. But that exhaustion helped numb him from Holly's loss.
But ... It had been five years, and except for a miserable blind date here and there, he'd been alone the whole time. He'd done his grieving and had honored Holly's memory. He needed to move on now. Maybe it would be okay to show some interest in Rebecca. What's the worst thing that could happen?
Then again, what's the best?
Rebecca descended the simple wood staircase into the living room. Midnight and Martin looked up from the books they were reading by the fireplace.
"Well? What do you think?" She smoothed her hands down her sides. "It's a good thing I started losing my hips at forty, or these would never have worked."
Martin appraised her quickly, then looked inquiringly at Midnight. "Hm. Am I going to get in trouble if I say those jeans never looked like that when Daniel wore them?"
Midnight laughed. "No. I'll have to agree with you there." She looked up at Rebecca. "Of course those jeans were pre-me. I didn't realize we still had clothes here that Daniel outgrew---what? Four years ago?"
"Three. Maybe four. Not sure. But look at them. Jeans are practically new, and the sweater is a classic. It looks like what you'd buy anywhere today. I'd say you should thank me for having that old stuff around." He looked at Midnight, then to Rebecca, clearly waiting for his thank you.
"Hm. We'll see." Midnight winked and walked over to her petite friend. "The raglan sleeves on this sweater help it fit. And the emerald green is great on you." She sighed. "Okay, Martin, I do thank you for keeping Daniel's old clothes and for bringing them out of storage. They've washed up fine."
"Yesss! I did something right!"
"Oh honey, you do lots of things right." Midnight sat down on the arm of his chair and ran her fingers through his hair. Then she leaned down and gave him a long, slow kiss. "Mmm. Lots of things." Martin's arms went around her, pulling her closer.
Daniel came running down the stairs, and stopped when he saw the scene. "Geez. Can you guys give it a rest? We've got company here." He looked at Rebecca apologetically. "They get like this sometimes. It's disgusting, but I try to ignore it." He continued through the living room toward the kitchen, and called over his shoulder, "Cool sweater, Miz Mayfield. I used to have one like that."
"But it didn't look the same on you." Martin received a light swat on the shoulder from his wife for the comment. "Ow!"
Rebecca giggled, something that didn't happen often. She actually couldn't recall the last time she'd done it. She dropped onto the dark chocolate leather couch and drew her sock feet up under her. "Okay then. I guess I pass inspection."
Midnight's little family was absolutely charming. Rebecca felt accepted and at home with them. And now she had several pairs of jeans and some sweaters to wear, plus some flannel pajamas with black bears on them, and another pair with horses.
"You feel okay about the clothes, Rebecca?" Midnight looked concerned. "The gathering at Charles and Dorothy's is casual."
"Yes. Absolutely. They're not exactly the types of things I packed in my suitcase, but I think these will be better." I would have felt out of place in the designer clothes, the dress pants and expensive sweaters. I want to fit in here ... for the short time I'm around.
Rebecca's hand went to her diamond stud earring, twisting the back. "So, Charles and Dorothy are McClains, I take it?"
"Yes. My uncle and aunt." Martin trailed his hand along Midnight's arm as she stood and went to sit in her own chair by the fire. The look in his eyes sent a message to his wife that said Later.
Rebecca felt her face color. These two obviously had the right kind of marriage. Good for them. But about this evening...
"So, it's at their house?"
Midnight twisted around at an angle in the armchair, swinging her long legs over the arm. She smoothed her shiny black hair behind her shoulders. "It's at Charles and Dorothy's house, just a short drive from here. We'll be fine in the Jeep, especially since Joe's been through in that big truck and left some tracks. Depending on what the roads are like, it may be a houseful. Some of the family lives out of town quite a distance, and with small children, they might not make the trip if they think the roads are too bad."
Martin said, "Don't worry about my family, Rebecca. We're mostly friendly. Definitely nothing to worry about as far as having somebody to talk to. There are dozens of us, all ages."
She wasn't worried about the McClain family in general. She was wondering about one particular member of the family. Would he be there?
"Oh yeah, and you already know us, and Joe and David." Martin seemed to think this was encouraging news.
"Joe and David will be there?" She hoped it sounded nonchalant.
"Skipping it wouldn't be an option. It's their parents' house, you know." He said it as if it were obvious.
Rebecca began to twist the earring back again. "No, I didn't know. Ah." How did she feel about seeing David again?
Midnight began to swing one leg. "Um. About David. I suppose I'd just as well tell you, if you haven't already figured it out. When I called you a few days ago? David is the guy I mentioned wanting you to meet." Martin's jaw snapped shut with a look from Midnight. "I'd intended it to happen at his parents' house tonight. Much less dramatic than being snowbound. Overnight, no less." She smiled at Rebecca and her black eyes sparkled. "I think you're perfect for him."
"Ah. Well. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He is interesting." Rebecca felt a blush coming on---something that hadn't happened to her in years.
"And a hunk."
"Yes. And that."
"And damaged. Do you know about Holly?"
"Yes. He told me. How awful."
"He needs to move on."
Rebecca thought back to the scene in the kitchen the moment before Joe arrived. "I think he's beginning to do that."
"Do you?" Midnight raised a brow and cocked her head. "Hm. That's good. I was hoping."
David decided to be as helpful to his mom as he could while she was putting last minute touches on the food for tonight. He stirred three crock-pots of mashed potatoes loaded with butter, sour cream, and cream cheese. He'd spent much of the afternoon peeling the potatoes. David wanted to eat out of the big stir spoon, but restrained himself. He was very good at restraint.
The best way to get through this evening was to stay very busy in the kitchen. He'd already polished and set out all the silverware, carried out plates, napkins, and glasses to the buffet tables. At his mother's direction, he'd lit every candle in sight, most of which were scented. The whole house, huge as it was, smelled like turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, vanilla, cinnamon, and bayberry. His stomach was turning over and over, but he knew it wasn't just because the food smelled fantastic. He was anxious about what it would be like to see Rebecca again. He was, in fact, nervous---an emotion David McClain did not often experience. He wanted to see her again, see how she looked in his parents' house. And he refused to think about why that was important to him.
His dad came down the back staircase having changed into fresh slacks and a sweater without holes in the elbows---per his wife's instructions. "David, how's it going in here?"
"Good, Dad. I think we're ready for the onslaught."
"Your mother seems to believe everything's under control. She's not quite as deep into panic mode as she usually is about this time. She's upstairs changing clothes, humming White Christmas. Your help makes a big difference." The tall, stately, white-haired man put a frilly apron over his clothes and took a turkey roaster out of one of the large ovens to check the bird. "Looks like this guy's ready too." He set the heavy pan to one side. "Holly was always a big help, too---Oh, David! Sorry."
"It's okay, Dad. I'm okay. You're right, Holly was a big help, and she loved Christmas more than any time of year. She lit up the place, I always thought."
His father leaned on the counter and crossed his arms across his big chest. "She sure did, son. She was one special girl." His voice was soft.
David's eyes burned a little. "She was amazingly special, and we were lucky to have her as long as we did. I was lucky she married me and put up with me. Now, though, I need to let her go. I think I never have managed that."
"It must be hard for you, son. I can't imagine how hard."
David looked him straight on, two sets of sky-blue eyes locked. "The family has helped. Knowing all of you cared. Knowing you would let me work through my mourning in my own time. I couldn't have gotten through it without you."
David took a deep breath. This conversation had been a very long time in coming. He could see his dad was relieved to hear he was ready to move on.
"Son, I'm glad you've found some peace. That's the best any of us can do with a tragedy like Holly's. Find peace, and pick up the pieces." He took a couple of steps and wrapped his big son in an equally big embrace. "We love you, David. We all do."
Dorothy sailed into the room then, dressed in the special caftan she wore only on Christmas Day, much to the delight of the grandchildren who called it "Grandma's tent dress." It was spruce green, printed with large red poinsettias. Her earrings were clear plastic globes filled with gold tinsel. Her lipstick and fingernails matched the poinsettias.
"Mom, you look like everything Christmas is supposed to be." David hugged her tightly and kissed her soft powdery cheek.
She slapped at him playfully. "Stop that! I'll have you know I don't have time for silliness. There's work to be done before---"
The doorbell chimed and shock registered on Dorothy's sweet round face. "Oh no! They're here!"
Charles chuckled and headed toward the front door in his wife's wake. "Come on, son. Let's see who we can trap under the mistletoe."
"Now, Charles!" She threw him a glare, then opened the door and beamed at the newcomers. "Merry Christmas! Oh, Merry Christmas everyone! Hurry in here! It's so cold out. Did you have a safe trip? Let me take your coats. Charles? David? Help me with the coats..."
The same basic scene was replayed time and again. No one but Dorothy got trapped under the mistletoe, and she enjoyed every peck on the cheek from her sons, grandchildren, nephews, cousins ... All the McClain family who could manage to make the trip arrived eventually, including David's sisters Maureen and Janelle, and Joe's bunch---wife Theresa, and kids Joey and Marliss.
David was stirring gravy when Joey poked his blonde head into the kitchen and look around. "Hey, Uncle David."
"Hey, Joey." He squinted at the youngster. "You look old."
"Thanks. Fifteen and a half. Gonna get my license the day I hit sixteen."
"Man, you're scarin' me here. I'm afraid you're gonna put lumps in this gravy with that kind of talk."
Joey smiled the gorgeous smile he'd inherited from his mother. Not David's motor head brother Joe, who no doubt promised the license thing to his son. Joe was all about driving cars, fixing cars. Joey had gotten some of that too.
"Uncle David, you seen Daniel yet?"
"Hm. No, I don't believe I have. It's not late yet though. Maybe he had to finish playing a computer game before he could come on over here."
"Ha. More likely building a website or trouble-shooting somebody's computer over the phone. He's all about that stuff."
"That's cool."
"Yeah. I like cars and he likes computers. When we get outta school, we're gonna go into business together doin' that stuff. Gonna make a lot of money sellin' computer car ideas to the big guys."
"Sounds great." The doorbell chimed again, and David took a quick, deep breath. "Might be them now." He didn't look up---wasn't sure what would be in his eyes.
Rebecca. Was he fooling himself, or did the two of them have possibilities---together?
Shaken from the bumpy ride through the snow-rutted back roads in Martin's Jeep, Rebecca carefully chose her path to the house so as not to soak her stiletto ankle boots for the third time in two days. They were designer boots, and had cost a mint, but she wasn't certain how much abuse they could take. She had no choice, though---no footwear in Midnight's house was anywhere near Rebecca's size. Daniel's old shoes were too small, and everything else too large. She'd gotten behind the other three because of her cautious navigation, stepping into footprints already made so she didn't have to tread through anything deep.
Finally she made it onto the wide front porch just in time to see Midnight and Martin be pulled into the house. Daniel received an exclamation from a plump white-haired lady in a wild caftan. Smiling like a round-faced angel, she pointed to the mistletoe hung in the doorway and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. Daniel hugged her and went into the house. Rebecca stood on the porch, hearing the happy voices inside, and wishing she could somehow escape. What audacity to come here as an interloper on a holiday. What had she been thinking?
"Oh, honey, come on in here! I'm Dorothy McClain. David and Joe's mother. And Janelle and Maureen's too, but you haven't met them yet, have you? But you will. I'm so glad you're here. Now, tell me your name. And tell me all about yourself. You're Midnight's friend, right? That makes you special in Legend, I'll tell you true."
While Dorothy McClain talked, she was giving Rebecca a quick hug, taking her cloak and handing it to someone to be carried away, and ushering her to a buffet table in the large dining room, pouring her a lovely glass of red wine.
Dorothy stood to one side, near a swinging door that probably led to the kitchen. "And your name is..."
"Rebecca." He said it so sweetly, she had to look twice to be sure it was the same David McClain she'd been snowbound with. There he was, standing in the doorway, halfway in the kitchen and halfway in the dining room, looking tall, dark, handsome---and very uncertain.
"I'll let you children talk." Dorothy floated out of the room, completely unnoticed.
"David. Um. Good to see you again."
"Yes. It's good. You look good."
Rebecca looked down at her clothes. She'd seldom had this many compliments on her designer outfits. "The clothes are loaners." She took a step toward him, sipped the delicious wine. "From Daniel. I guess he was my size when he was about twelve years old."
Chuckling, David came the rest of the way into the dining room. "Well, you still look good. Very good."
"Thanks." Rebecca felt her face grow hot, felt something in the air between them. Something electric and exciting.
"Any chance you and I could start over?" David walked to the buffet and poured himself a glass of wine, then stood in front of her. She could see a slight movement in the liquid. Was his hand was a bit unsteady?
"Start over?" She looked up at him, so tall and handsome in his dark brown sweater, the strands of white hair catching the light from the chandelier. She couldn't seem to breathe normally, felt as if her voice was too soft.
"Yeah. Start over, as in, meet like normal people and get to know each other. Or if you prefer ... we could pick up where we left off. That would be nice, too." He reached down and took her free hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed the knuckles lightly. "I think I came across as a big ugly brute out there on the mountain. At least part of the time. But I do have a couple of redeeming qualities." He linked his fingers with hers.
She held on, liking the direction this conversation was going. She couldn't look away from those blue, blue eyes. Didn't want to. "Um. I think I really need to apologize for the way I behaved up there. I staggered into your cabin---into your Christmas Eve---and just ruined your solitude. You ended up having to take care of me. Worse yet, put up with me. Most people don't have much patience---don't want to put up with my obsessive-compulsive---"
He silenced her with a kiss as sweet as soft red wine, as spicy as sex. Rebecca set her wine glass shakily onto the buffet, put her arms around David's neck, and pulled him closer. He set his glass down too, almost missing the horizontal surface in his haste to have Rebecca in his arms. It felt so right. It felt like home, at last, after the loneliness and denial both of them had been through.
David came up for air a few minutes later. "So. Rebecca. It feels like we're onto something here. Like maybe we're on the same side of the counsel table for once."
She smiled up at him. "There's just nothing as romantic as a courtroom metaphor." Sighing, she ran her hands through his hair. "But I think you're right. I think we started something up there on the mountain that is worth some ... research." She tipped her head to one side. "Would you like me to file a brief?"
"Hm. I don't think briefs will be required." He teased her ear lobe with his tongue.
Catching her breath---and then catching his meaning---she laughed softly and shook her head. "No. You're right about that. Do you require any type of pleading?"
"Pleading isn't necessary, either." David ran his hands down her back and pulled her closer.
She laughed out loud. "Okay, Your Honor. What's the verdict then?"
"My verdict is, this case has merit, but I'm still dismissing the complaint. In fact, no more complaints are allowed."
She stamped her tiny foot. "Well! Any chance of an appeal?"
"Oh yeah. There's no end of appeal. But first, let me pronounce the sentence."
"Hey! Is this civil or criminal?"
"Baby, we'll keep it as civil as we can. The criminal part is that we already wasted all those hours in the cabin."
She snuggled back into him. "So, no more wasted hours. Is that part of the sentence?"
"Absolutely." He pulled away a little, looked down into her eyes. "I'm talking life here, if you get my meaning."
Startled out of the repartee, Rebecca looked up into his beautiful, trustworthy eyes.
"Life. David, be serious for a minute. I'm forty years old, I'm sick and tired, and I'm ready to throw away a hugely successful law practice in New York and start over. And I don't even know what I'll do when I start over. I may be a bad risk." She looked down at the floor. "Perhaps you've got the wrong woman."
He lifted her chin with one long finger. "No. I've definitely got the right woman. I have it on very good authority."
A white pillar candle on the buffet suddenly flared more brightly, then settled down again. Rebecca briefly wondered about it.
The rest of the McClains visited in the family room, in the living room, on the enclosed four-season back porch, oohing and aahing at the Christmas trees, lighted manger scenes, and huge potted poinsettias. They sang carols around the piano while David's sister Janelle played. They stayed out of the dining room for a good long while, because Dorothy told them to. She pulled the sliding oak pocket door closed and gave David and Rebecca some privacy, though they were unaware of the movement or the sound. They stood molded together, kissing and holding each other, and beginning to make plans.
This year's Christmas Collision had given both of them another chance at happiness. Another chance at love.
A Jack of All Trades, Janet Eaves is a wife of 28 years, mother of two daughters, and grandmother to the most incredibly beautiful child in the world. She writes fiction independently as well as collaborating with her SisterWriters Maddie James, Magdalena Scott, and Jan Scarbrough in the Ladies of Legend Series. She runs her husband's contracting business from her home office, works for H&R Block during Tax season (after weeks of recertification classes each summer), and is in the process of building another web based business, while redecorating several rooms in her home. In the midst of all, she is passionate about the written word. An avid reader and passionate writer, she loves nothing more than losing herself in fantasy.
The newly released Claiming the Legend is the first of four novellas in the Ladies of Legend: Finding Home anthology, and Janet's first step into publishing fiction. The story introduces the town of Legend, Tennessee and some of the people who reside there. The story opens with Lilly Peach running for her life, desperately needing a place to hide. She believes she's found obscurity in this small town, nestled at the foot of the Appalachian Mountains . When the Legend of Legend, the popular local high school football coach, takes an interest in her she is thrust into the local spotlight. Unfortunately for her, his ultra-successful football program has garnered national attention as well.
Currently Janet is working on her second contracted Legend Series book, Beauty and the Beast, which will be followed up by Harvest Moon, then before the year is out, a Christmas novella which will rejoin her with her SisterWriters in the Ladies of Legend: A Legendary Christmas anthology.
She is thrilled to be a part of the Resplendence Publishing family and is eternally grateful to them for wanting to publish the ongoing Ladies of Legend saga.
Magdalena Scott
Magdalena Scott wrote her first stage play in second grade. She was nationally published as a third grader---with a Haiku.
As an adult she has written and edited newsletters and other works of nonfiction. She is also the author of several short stories, and two plays performed in a local venue. Magdalena has completed two full-length novels, and has three in process. She is an active member of Romance Writers of America and Kentucky Romance Writers. Magdalena blogs with her critique partners at sisterwriters.blogspot.com.
Magdalena lives in the Midwest with her husband and teenage son, and does her best to juggle the joys and responsibilities of her various personalities: wife---mother---daughter---friend---employee---writer. Some days it works, some days it doesn't.
Check out her website at www.magdalenascott.com
Also available from Resplendence Publishing:
The Fine Art of Kissing by Catherine Chernow
What happens when the King of Truth, America's top, no-spin journalist and popular talk-show host meets the Love Doctor---everyone's favorite relationship guru and kissing expert?
Julie Wilson is America's favorite relationship guru. She writes a book about kissing, creating a media sensation. Brad O'Malley, popular talk-show host, wants to interview Julie. She refuses, knowing Brad O'Malley places his guests in the 'hot seat.' In retaliation, he steals a kiss from Julie at her book signing. The kiss ignites Julie's senses---and her popularity. She agrees to appear on 'O'Malley's Corner' and boldly announces that she's kissed a hundred men to research her book.
Brad's ratings soar, but Julie will soon regret her 'hundred men' lie when he offers her a regular spot on his show ... and a hefty salary. Julie accepts, knowing the generous offer will help the local women's shelter she volunteers at, but will she be able endure the arrogant Brad O'Malley ... and her growing attraction to him? Sealing the bargain with another mind-blowing kiss, sparks fly as Julie and Brad go head-to-head, and delve into ... the fine art of kissing.
e-book: $6.50, Print: $15.99
More than Words by Kelly Kirch
Kylie Dobson is a romance author with a problem. As a seat-of-the-pants writer, she depends on the strength of the characters to drive her plot. But when her hero, Milo, Lord Gafton refuses to chase after the prescribed heroine, everything goes wonky. Kylie is inexplicably sucked into her work of fiction, transported from a contemporary venue to a fictional Regency setting. What's worse is, nothing she does is affecting the plot and she can't get out.
Set into motion by her own creative process is a winter storm which seals the Regency party goers in on a country estate. If that wasn't bad enough, a murderer is on the loose and he's picking off one guest at a time. The more time she spends with Milo the more she comes to depend on him. She's convinced that his character sketch will kick in at any moment and he'll fall for her heroine. But will it happen before she loses her heart to him? And what happens when the plot draws to the end? Will the killer have his way and will Kylie solve the case only to be returned to her reality without the man she's fallen for?
e-book: 6.50, Coming Soon to Print
Project Seduction by Tatiana March:
Project Manager: Georgina Coleman, VP at Pacific Bank, 28 years old. Brilliant and determined, but lacking in social skills.
Project background: Transfer from London to San Diego allows Georgina to shed her dowdy image and get a life.
Project objective: Seduce a man and lose her virginity.
Timeline: Seven weeks, starting from the completion of Project Flowchart.
Target: Georgina's downstairs neighbor, a surly cop named Rick Matisse.
Complication: Rick's 12-year-old daughter Angelina, who thinks Georgina would be the perfect girlfriend to keep Dad on his toes.
Distraction: Money laundering investigation which requires Georgina to mingle with a bunch of Colombian thugs who believe that every woman should be owned by a man.
Project evaluation: A project can go wrong despite successful completion, if Project Manager fails to plan for how to deal with the Target after project closure.
e-book: 6.50, Coming Soon to Print
Secrets of the Heart by Jannifer Hoffman
Nicole Anderson owns a successful costume design business, has a wealth of small town friends and sleeps in a lonely bed haunted by demons from the past. She's convinced herself her life is exactly the way she wants it and has shot down every marriageable man within a fifty-mile radius.
When Hunter Douglas is assigned the task of delivering a deceased friend's children to their aunt, he must first convince the belligerent Nicole Anderson that she actually had a sister. Though forced to take his two charges to Minnesota, Hunter fully intents to persuade Ms. Anderson to allow the children to return to New York with him---without sharing his own little secret. The last thing he wants to do is fall in love with a woman who lives in a small Midwest town with neighbors who seem to know every move he makes.
As the heat index between Nicole and Hunter rises, a bizarre puzzle begins to unfold involving false birth certificates, a stolen suitcase, odd pictures, an elusive stalker, and a grandfather's legacy that could turn deadly.
e-book: $6.50, Coming Soon to Print
Find Resplendence Titles at the following retailers:
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www.resplendencepublishing.com
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www.amazon.com
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www.fictionwise.com
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www.mobipocket.com
Visit www.resplendencepublishing.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.

