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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
512 Forest Lake Drive
Warner Robins, Georgia 31093
Miracle at Midnight
Copyright © 2007 by Stacia Wolf
ISBN: 1-59998-710-4
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2007
Miracle atMidnight
Stacia Wolf
To the youngest members of my family: Dylen, Logan, and Duncan, my children's children, and to all my nieces and nephews. And to Solomon David, my nephew's son, whose early entrance into this world makes him all the more special. May all of you find your own miracles in your lives.
"Enough!" Comtessa Amara de la Cortese shouted through a haze of anger at her advisors. Her deceased husband's advisors, in reality. "I no longer wish to discuss this ridiculous proposal."
"But---"
"I said enough!" She slammed her hand down on the massive desk. Although it made barely a sound, their slicing tongues ceased. "You don't care that I'm to be sacrificed on the marriage bed to keep your worthless hides safe."
Her head throbbed from the argument that had been roaring in her ears for hours now, ever since Comte Chavre DeLeon showed up with his marriage proposal. His honey-sweet words had veiled a threat---refuse and he would lay claim to her lands as her protector.
"I understand the risks. You've made that very clear---over and over. But now I need peace so I may think." She waved her hand in dismissal, then turned her back on them. They bickered amongst themselves as they shuffled out, leaving Amara alone.
Her maid entered, and Amara contained an urge to snap at her. Instead, she said, "I will eat in my rooms tonight. Let the kitchen know, then come help me out of this miserable dress."
She couldn't stand the idea of sitting at dinner and having all those prying eyes watching her. She needed some peace, but knew it would be fleeting. She longed to be free of this place, of the tall rock walls, of her duty to these people who didn't care whether she lived or died.
Her restlessness chased her all evening, and nearing midnight, she found herself on her balcony, listening to a light breeze rattle through the sleeping trees' branches. The icy chill bit through her opulent robes and nightgown, but her bitterness kept her blood heated, even as her stocking-clad feet protested being subjected to winter's deep freeze.
She should be in bed, warm and contented. But instead, she stood on the tiny balcony overlooking the deserted town center. Still no word from her brother, Ehren, who'd left nearly a year ago, promising to bring back her husband's killer. She didn't mourn her husband. He'd been older than her deceased father, and had shown little interest in her after receiving her dowry from Ehren.
In the harsh night of December 24th, 1507, in the large town of Dupois, France, Amara felt the coldness seep into her very bones. Raised by a remote, brutal widower father, Amara had learned quite young that those who cared, those who loved, were weak fools who could easily be destroyed. Now twenty-four years old, she ruled her dead husband's land with an iron fist, just as her brother ruled his own lands. Just that morning, she'd witnessed a beggar stealing food from the market. She'd called the soldiers, angry that anyone would steal from her.
When the man had been captured, he'd cried out to her, "You condemn my children to death!" and Amara had covered her barren womb with her palm and replied, "Some do not deserve life." Then she'd walked away.
Restless, Amara stared out over the empty courtyard, as bereft as her heart. Her father had taught her that happiness was only achieved by power and domination. She'd learned not to show emotions or to feel anything. She'd been given one gift---her beauty. With long, dark hair the color of a raven's wing, pale skin and luminous green eyes, Amara had discovered the power of her looks on both men and women. A smile, a frown, a whispered endearment---they were all weapons she used well.
But the Comte seemed immune. He'd looked on her as a man would an inanimate object. He gave nothing away, which left her impotent to persuade him.
A movement below caught her attention. Someone skimmed through the shadows---no, two someones. Using the darkness as their cover, they moved carefully through the courtyard, heading to the stockade. The stockade wouldn't be heavily guarded. Instead, the soldiers manned the tall walls, to guard the village against the Comte's veiled threat.
Instantly, she realized the stealthy pair's goal. They were to rescue the thief. Stupid, foolish men. She'd exact a harsh price for their treachery, one that would set an example throughout the land. She waited in the shadows, still as a statue, the cold seeping even deeper into her, turning her outrage into strong contempt. Then when two became three, when hushed whispers marked their retreat, she stepped out of the darkness.
"Guards! Stop those men!"
In moments, soldiers poured into the square. Amara rushed down several flights of stairs and out to where the three men knelt in the dirty snow, torchlight illuminating their defeat. She stood in front of them and felt as if her father and brother watched her, judging her.
Her family had ruled for a half-century, and in that time they'd rarely shown mercy. These men, who defied her on such a sacred day, deserved no compassion.
But that was exactly what one asked for. The thief, she believed.
"Please, Comtesse, have mercy. My children---"
"How old are your children?" she asked.
"My daughter is twelve, my son ten. Their mother died long ago. Now they will be alone." His eyes held hope mingled with despair; tears left dirty tracks down his face.
But Amara felt nothing. He'd dared to steal from her and needed to be punished. She looked up at one of her soldiers. "Find these children. They will be sold to pay for this man's crimes." She only waited for his nod before turning away.
"Comtesse! May you be judged as harshly as you judge your own people!"
Amara didn't even break stride. The doomed thief's words meant nothing. She entered her chambers and shut the door, then closed her eyes, calming all her thoughts. No use letting some lawless man and his stupid curses upset her. She didn't write the laws of the land. "Thou shalt not steal" was a commandment of God. She only upheld it.
Is mercy not also one of God's traits?
The soft voice startled her. Her eyes flew open, and she looked wildly about her. "Who's there?"
I am who you refer to as Pere Noel. I prefer Nicholas.
A man stepped out of the shadows. He wore the robes of a priest and held an ornate staff. He was very old, his white hair streaming over his shoulders. Somehow, he glowed and didn't seem solid.
Pere Noel. Father Christmas. It couldn't be. She had to be dreaming.
"Who are you really and what do you want?"
You are very demanding. He watched her, his bright blue gaze never wavering. I want you to answer me this question. What is your heart made of?
He mocked her. This apparition in her own chambers mocked her. All the hurt and pain of her father's hatred, her brother's disdain, filled her. Amara replied, "My heart is of stone, to survive this world."
Pere Noel nodded, his eyes seemingly saddened. So be it.
He pointed his staff at her. Comtessa Amara de la Cortese of Dupois, for your crimes against children, you have condemned yourself by your own words to a life of stone.
Incredibly, the staff began to glow, and Amara felt herself grabbed by that light, frozen into place. She tried to cry out but she couldn't move, couldn't speak. The lights lifted her up, and she dangled, helpless.
I will grant you a boon. His eyes snapped at each word. Every fifty years, the same length as your family's despotic reign, you will be granted two days to discover the answer to this question---what is the true meaning of love?
Give me the correct answer, and your life will be your own. Give me the wrong answer and you will return to being a statue. You will have ten chances.
Then the light exploded, and Amara found herself outside, in the frigid cold, but she couldn't feel it. She knew where she was. In front of the little church, still under construction. And she understood several things at once.
She was made of stone, to match her heart.
She'd been cursed with a task---to find the true meaning of love.
And she'd been inscribed with the following words,
In tribute to those who have lost heart.
Then consciousness faded away.
Samantha Gamble couldn't sleep. The clock in her bedroom said eleven fifty-six, but she didn't feel tired at all. She couldn't remember being so sad at Christmas before. She missed her mom and her baby brother and their dog, Busby. But Mom had said she had to go. She'd told her all about fun stuff to do in New York at Christmastime. Sami didn't really care, she just wanted to stay home, but she'd heard her mom talking to her step-dad and knew she didn't have a choice. She rarely saw her dad, and usually she loved coming to New York, but Christmas was a time to be with family, and Daddy didn't feel like family any more.
She'd arrived in New York City this morning. Usually Daddy worked. As a doctor, he was pretty busy. But this year he promised to take time off and spend it just with her. Tomorrow he said he'd take her ice skating at Central Park, then they'd go see Santa at Macy's. Supposedly he was the best Santa around. Daddy hadn't been too excited about that, but he'd told her mother he'd take her. Sami's mom called Daddy a "big cynic", and although Sami wasn't supposed to hear, she'd listened as her mom told her dad to "lighten up and enjoy the holidays with your daughter".
She glanced toward her window that overlooked the church across the street and saw fat snowflakes falling. Some of her sadness faded. A white winter in New York City! And tomorrow she'd be skating in real snow. Her friends back home in Rhome, Texas, would be so jealous! It never snowed there.
Scooting out of bed, she ran to the window bench her daddy had put in just for her and crawled onto its princess-and fairy-covered fabric. She gazed outside, watching the snowflakes appear under the street lamp across the street. She followed them down to the ground, where they coated the three statues that adorned the open courtyard at the church. Sami loved the statues. One of them, a woman with flowing hair that stood next to the statue of Jesus, seemed to be reaching out to someone. Daddy said she didn't have a name, but he said her plaque read "In tribute to those who have lost heart" in French.
She pressed her nose against the glass and puffed on it, laughing when her breath fogged up the window. She wiped it away. Then a bright light flared outside, and Sami stared hard, trying to find where the light came from.
Her statue---it glowed bright as a headlight.
The light grew and flared, blinding her. She shielded her eyes and yelled, "Daddy!" before she remembered her door was shut and he probably couldn't hear her. Then the light died as swiftly as it had appeared---and with it, went her statue.
In its place stood a woman with long black hair and a fancy bathrobe. She looked like one of those Christmas angels her mother put on the tree every year, except her hair was messy and she didn't have wings. Then she yelled.
Sami opened her window by pushing the button and moving the latch, then giving it a hard heave upward---just like she'd learned last summer. Now she could hear what the statue said.
The woman stepped off the pedestal, her hair streaming about her. She stumbled, then turned back and picked something up, some sort of package. She didn't even open it, but whirled about instead, as if looking for someone. Then she yelled again. Sami could hear her clearly, but none of her words made sense. Then she heard one word she understood.
Jumping off the window bench, she ran to her door and jerked it open. "Daddy! Come quick! The statue's alive and she's yelling for you!"
"Nicholas! Where are you?" Amara couldn't believe she'd woken up alone on this, her last chance. Nine times she'd awakened and tried to escape this curse, and nine times she'd failed. This, the tenth time, she'd expected him to be there, to maybe give her a hint or a clue as to where to look. Instead, she was alone. She had only two days to discover what he wanted, or she'd become a statue again. And this time, it would be forever.
She whirled about again, and then it struck her. The church behind her, although old, wasn't the church from Dupois. And there were other statues. The street felt too close, the buildings surrounding her weren't right, either. Where was she?
She saw the bundle he always sent her. She snatched it up, but didn't open it. She needed some answers, and the bundle never contained those, although it probably had that horrible wafer she'd eaten the last few times. It granted her understanding of the language, since French had changed so much over the last few hundred years.
Heaven knew if she was still in France.
"Nicholas!" she yelled again. "What have you done? Where am I? You owe me answers! Nicholas!"
But she knew he wouldn't appear. Sometimes he'd be there when she woke up, and sometimes not. There were times she'd call out to him, out of fear, out of anger, out of need. But he never answered her summons. He appeared only when he chose to, never when she called. There was only one time she could be certain she'd see him. He would summon her back to the statue's base at the end of her time, at midnight on Christmas Day, and he'd ask her the same thing every time.
What is the true meaning of love?
And always she failed to satisfy him.
Yet still she called. Because maybe this time, the last time, would be different. Maybe something she'd done over the last nine times would have softened him to show her some mercy.
Then she remembered. She'd never shown kindness to another person. Very ironic she'd expect some now.
A movement caught her eye. A window across the street stood open, and a little girl pointed at her. Another figure appeared. A man. He leaned forward and looked right at her.
Amara stared. He was very handsome, with short dark hair, a style she'd not liked when she'd been "home", but had grown to appreciate during her last couple of awakenings. His face was long and lean. She couldn't see his eyes, but she imagined them to be chocolate, a delicacy she'd discovered about three awakenings ago.
She mentally shook herself. This wouldn't help her, standing here staring at some stranger. "Nicholas! How am I to learn this mercy that you spoke of if I never experience it myself?"
Shaking her head in frustration, she untied the silver cord wrapped around the cloth bundle and looked for the cursed wafer. She'd need the knowledge it brought her, but she hated the feeling it gave her. Like her bones were being shredded. And the pain---the last time she'd nearly passed out.
Retying up the bundle and setting it down, she put the wafer in her mouth and immediately tasted the bitterness. She couldn't stop now. This was her last chance; she needed to do the best she could.
She bit into the wafer and writhed in agony as the pain ripped through her.
This time, she did faint.
"Daddy!" Sami screamed as the woman tumbled to the ground. "She's hurt! Daddy, go help her!"
Nick Gamble looked at the woman, probably homeless and mentally disturbed, who moments before had been shouting at an invisible someone. "Honey, I'll call the police. They'll come help her."
"No, Daddy, you need to help her. She yelled for you. By the time police get here, she might be dead."
"She was calling for a Nicholas. Only your grandmother calls me that." Nick stared out the window. At this distance, he couldn't tell if she still breathed. "Baby, it's not our problem. We need to handle this the right way, by calling the police."
"She's not a bad person, she's a sick person. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Help sick people?"
He saw the hope in her face, and a desperate belief that her parents could do anything. She seemed so young, so vulnerable. She'd grown up so much lately and had become almost a stranger to him. He longed to find a way to get closer to her.
He couldn't disappoint her.
"All right, I'll go look at her. Go grab my medical bag out of the hallway, and I'll get my shoes on. But you're to stay up here, with the door locked, understand?"
Sami nodded enthusiastically, and Nick sighed as he pushed away from the window. She raced off, and he reluctantly followed. He didn't mind helping people down on their luck, which was why he volunteered at a clinic. But spending any of his time off helping a mentally imbalanced person didn't seem like much of a vacation.
He glanced at his daughter as he left the apartment. She seemed too innocent for a six-year-old. Maybe in Texas they stayed younger longer. Not in New York. And she still believed in all that make-believe garbage. Like Santa Claus and the tooth fairy. He worried about how to teach her reality without bursting her bubble too cruelly.
In no time at all, Nick stood beside the fallen woman. From the window he'd noticed her long, dark hair, her pale skin, but up close he had to admit she was quite beautiful. Probably a model a bit high on something. Then he glanced up at the statue.
Or at the thin air where the statue had been. Nothing stood on the pedestal.
He remembered now that Sami had yelled something about the statue becoming a woman. No way that could be true. But he couldn't see any scratches or chips in the stone, something that would happen if someone had pried the heavy statue off its base.
"Daddy!"
He glanced up at Sami, who leaned out the window and pointed insistently at the woman. With a sigh, he knelt beside her in the thin layer of snow and felt her throat.
Yes, one strong pulse. And some very soft skin.
And two incredibly green eyes staring up at him.
He jerked his hand back. The woman didn't seem to react at all, just kept looking up at him. Then she felt around for something. He spied a cloth bundle a few feet from him. Reaching out, he grabbed it and handed it to her. She took it without a word, setting it beside her.
"How are you feeling? You passed out."
She glanced at him, watching his mouth as if fascinated. Then, insanely, she giggled. "Your lips don't match the words I hear." She possessed a strange accent that he couldn't quite place. Sounded European. It gave her voice a lilting quality. Then she touched her own mouth. "This is so strange."
Definitely high on something. He rocked back onto his heels, then stood up. "You don't seem frightened by your fainting spell, or about waking up with a total stranger beside you."
She shrugged and carefully sat up. "The fainting I knew might happen." She looked at him, as if seeing him for the very first time. "You don't look very frightening to me. Besides, I can't die." She frowned slightly. "I've seen you before. Ah, yes, the man in the window."
Nick frowned. In the lamplight, with her head tilted up at him, her eyes didn't seem dilated. Her skin hadn't been clammy and her pulse was steady. If she were drunk, then she also hid that well. But she could be coming down from an extended high.
"You should see a doctor, find out why you fainted." Code for "get some help". He almost asked her if she had a place to stay, so he could send her to a close-by shelter, but he didn't want to get involved.
"Isn't that what you do?"
"Why do you say that?"
She nodded at the bag. "I've seen those before. You're not the first one who thinks I'm a bit crazy." Her lips curved into an ironic smile. He wondered what she'd look like if her smile reached her eyes. She'd be stunning.
He frowned, pulling his thoughts back to the matter at hand. He couldn't let her beauty distract him from reality here. "I don't think you need me to diagnose what's really wrong with you right now, do you? It's either drugs or alcohol, or both."
Her brows lifted. He expected anger, or at least denial, but instead she laughed. "I wish those were my troubles. Those I could handle, but---"
"Are you an angel?"
Startled, Nick turned around and found his daughter standing not ten feet away. "I asked you to stay in the apartment. Go back to bed."
The woman ignored him, gazing instead at his little girl. She smiled, and this time it did reach her eyes. Yes, he'd been right. She was truly dazzling.
"No," she said, "I'm simply a woman who made some very bad choices, but I'm learning from them. Why do you think I might be an angel?"
"Because I saw you. One minute you're a statue, then poof!" Sami threw her hands up in the air, her eyes wide in excitement. "You're standing there."
Nick expected the woman to laugh, or perhaps to make fun of her. Instead she stared at Sami in wonder, then her eyes filled with delight. "You saw me? You honestly saw me?"
Sami nodded, rather vigorously, and the woman laughed and reached out to her. Before Nick could react, his daughter ran straight into her arms.
Horrified, he reached for Sami, but something held him back---almost like a hand on his shoulder, but nobody stood there.
The woman held Sami by her shoulders. Tears shimmered in her eyes. She whispered, "Once, a man stood right before me when I changed, and saw nothing. To him, the statue was still there, and I was merely a crazy woman. Yet you truly saw me. This must mean something. You must be the key to finding the answer. What's your name?"
"Sami." She looked in awe at the woman, as if she truly believed she were an angel.
"Sami. I like that name. I'm Amara de la Cortese, at your service." She seemed to curtsey while sitting, and Sami giggled.
Nick gritted his teeth. Enough was enough. "Listen, would you please let go of my---"
"Sami," Amara breathed, "Would you help me find the true meaning of love?"
Amara sat gingerly on the edge of the bed with a sense of satisfaction. She could hear Nick Gamble moving about on the other side of the door. She imagined he still felt angry over how Sami had coerced him into letting Amara stay.
Amara relished the smile that came while thinking of Sami's pleas in her behalf. A statue couldn't smile, couldn't move, couldn't show emotion except for the very rare tear. A smile felt like a gift from heaven.
She couldn't describe herself as awake while imprisoned in stone, nor could she say she was exactly sleeping. It felt more like being in a constant state of almost-awake. Some things would penetrate her awareness, like a violent act or a poignant moment. She remembered a young man fighting a Nazi for the life of a child. She remembered a woman letting go of the memory of her dead husband at Amara's feet.
At first, she'd hated this not-really-awake state she'd traveled through the years in. But once, she'd spent several years wide awake. She'd seen everything around her, felt every raw emotion, every change in the weather, birds' claws in her flesh, bugs crawling about her.
And she'd nearly gone insane.
After the first few awakenings, she'd discovered that if she concentrated very hard, she could remember things that had happened around her during the past fifty years. It was almost like reading a book, or time-traveling. She'd learned that her disappearance had profoundly changed her brother, and he'd visited her "statue" nearly every day until his death from natural causes. He'd become a great, benevolent ruler, and his daily talks to her became precious memories.
She'd seen the ravages of war on her now-beloved France and watched as the world changed. Tools and weapons became more advanced and deadly, people became more sophisticated and complicated, the world became more crowded. Horses were replaced by bicycles and cars, daily conversations in person were made rare by the advent of telephones, and women became more empowered.
She wondered how the world had changed in the last fifty years, and if finding her answer on this, her last chance, would be easier or more difficult.
Then her spirits lifted. Sami had seen her. That beautiful little girl with the most expressive eyes she'd ever known gave Amara hope that somewhere close she'd find her answer.
And Sami somehow held the key.
But she couldn't bask in her hope. She had work to do. She needed to retrieve her memories, see if she could learn anything from the past.
Closing her eyes, she thought hard about herself as a statue, then thought about the square at home, about the surroundings.
And she saw the time flashing by. Fashions changed, familiar faces grew older, then disappeared. A face she remembered from before, the priest, looked at her in anger every day.
She could hear snippets of conversations. "The statue is cursed. It disappears, then reappears. No one is ever caught for the crime. It needs to go." Then a new man with the priest, also wearing a collar, gazed up at her with reverence. "I will give her a home."
Memories of darkness, jostling, then light. She could see that face, the young priest, and the church she'd woken up to. She now knew she'd been sent to the United States, to New York City. She'd been placed on a new base and turned toward the street as if to greet people. A bench and a young tree were placed near her.
Now the tree towered above her, and the bench had been replaced a few times. But the young priest had visited her almost daily. She watched him age, and still his eyes filled with reverence each time he looked at her.
The priest. Another key. Amara stretched back on the bed. In the morning, she'd visit him. Perhaps he'd know something to aid her quest.
She saw brief glimpses of Nick Gamble, first alone, then with a beautiful dark-haired woman, then with a baby. Samantha. She watched Sami grow up, watched that dark brown fuzz turn into becoming curls, then Sami and the woman disappeared, and only Nick walked by, his face dark and unapproachable.
Amara sat up. The depth of his unhappiness, apparent even in those fleeting glimpses, disturbed her. She almost felt like a voyeur.
She shook herself mentally. She didn't have time to worry about Nick Gamble. She touched the bed longingly. No time for sleep either.
Instead, she concentrated on her next steps. In the bundle were always scraps of fabric. Her memories had shown her today's fashions. The blue scrap was probably pants or a jacket. The red, a sweater. She chose a few pieces, laid them out on the bed, then placed her hands on them. They warmed, then grew. When the heat stopped, she opened her eyes and found her first modern wardrobe.
It took her several minutes of struggling to get in the clothes. She'd never worn pants before. The bra and panties she knew, although the bra seemed lighter and tighter, and the panties mere snippets of fabric. And the white undershirt. But the pants felt funny and only fit right when the fasteners were in front. And the sweater was cut wrong. It showed too much of the undershirt.
A knock came at the door. Nick Gamble. Fascinating, unsmiling, suspicious Nick.
She opened the door, and he stood there with a tray. On it sat milk and slices of bread holding what looked like impossibly thin meat and cheese.
He stared at her, his gaze raking her up and down. She felt very naked dressed like this, in these form-fitting clothes.
"Where did you get those?"
She shrugged. "They were in the bundle, of course." She smiled and mentally sent him the message that she'd say no more on the subject. She glanced at the tray. That seemed to stop him from staring at her chest.
"I thought you might be hungry."
It had been fifty years since she'd last eaten, but appetite usually didn't trouble her. "Thank you." She reached for the tray, but he pushed past her and set it on the tiny nightstand. The room, although very small, was still bigger than the jail cells she'd put so many people in. To her, it felt like luxury.
Nick straightened up, then turned his somber face toward her. "Please don't make me regret letting you stay here. Sami's only six and very naïve. If you hurt her---"
"I could never hurt a child." She felt regret echoing from the past. She'd hurt many people before, some were children who'd lost their parents due to her tyranny. She could see now that she'd been a monster. She should be grateful to Nicholas for changing her, but maybe if she passed his test she could feel gratitude. Right now she struggled to feel nothing where he was concerned.
Nick stared at her for another long moment. "Do you really think you were a statue?"
She'd learned long ago not to discuss her unusual circumstances. "I'm not crazy, or dangerous. I'm just trying to get my life back on track."
His gaze dug into her, as if looking for all her secrets. It made her very uncomfortable.
"Do you have a newspaper I could read? I'm not tired."
He shook his head. "I get an online paper, but nothing paper."
"Online? What's that?"
He stared at her as if she'd sprouted two heads. "Online, as in on the computer."
Baffled, she shrugged, a gesture she'd picked up her last awakening. "I don't know what you mean."
"How can you..." His lips twisted into what she could only describe as a sneer. "Ah, this is part of your I-was-a-statue act. All right, I'll play along. Come along, I'll show you the computer." He nodded at the tray. "Bring your snack along."
She picked up the tray and followed him into the main living area, where a small desk held a flat metal case. He flipped it open, pushed a few buttons, and the flat glass that covered one half lit up blue. He watched it for a moment, then sat down and started pushing buttons on the other half at a rapid rate.
"By the way," he asked as his fingers danced over the buttons, "how did your cohorts get that statue off the base and moved so quickly?"
Amara didn't answer. She couldn't take her eyes off the glass. Images flew over it. Words, smiling faces, even tiny reindeer flying. She thought she heard bells. She set the tray down on the desk and moved closer.
"How did you do that?" she asked, both in wonder and fear. She'd witnessed a lot of changes---airplanes and flushing toilets being two of the strangest---but this! This had to be magic. She reached out to touch the strange glass, but he grabbed her wrist.
"No, never touch an LCD," he said, then studied her face. "Are you trying to convince me you know nothing about computers?"
Computer. She thought hard and could remember people walking past her saying something about them, but it made no sense. E-mail, IM, online shopping---it sounded more foreign to her than the language she now spoke.
Nick pushed a little plastic thing around, and Amara watched as a small arrow flew across the glass.
"I'm not buying your act. Here." He tapped a button on the plastic thing, and a picture popped up that said New York Times. He stood then and motioned for her to sit down. "This is the paper. The navigation bar is over here." He pushed the plastic thing, and the arrow on the glass moved.
She read "world", "US", "finance" and realized she had too much to learn. Even using this strange box overwhelmed her.
But this was her last chance, and learning as much as she could about the times she now lived in would probably help her succeed on her quest.
It certainly couldn't hurt.
Nick stood and watched her as she sat down in front of the glass and gingerly touched the plastic oval. It still felt warm from his touch. Her fingers tingled; she didn't know if it was from the thought of her fingers resting where his hand had so recently been or if the little arrow skittering across the glass petrified her.
She wrapped her fingers around the plastic thing, like she'd seen Nick do, and tried to understand what he'd done to make the page change. The New York Times had horrific headlines---ones about wars in countries she'd never heard of, about insurgents and terrorists, about shootings and other terrible acts. She wanted to cry. Nothing had gotten better in this world. If anything, they were worse.
She read through the list that Nick had indicated. She didn't know where to start or how to find what she needed.
Then she saw books and movies listed. She knew about those. A remarkable thing, movies. People on film forever, even after they were long gone. She'd seen an American movie, Never Say Goodbye. She still remembered how magnetic the actor, a Rock Hudson, had been. The person who'd taken her, a young wife missing her husband who was away for Christmas, had told her that movies showed the culture of the times.
So she'd look at the movies, and perhaps that would give her a glimpse into this strange new world.
She made the arrow glide over the word "Movies" and...
Nothing happened.
She could feel Nick Gamble watching her. He thought her a fraud or worse---someone who'd take advantage of his young daughter. She couldn't ask him for help. He considered her an enemy. One never begged for help from the enemy.
She waved the arrow over the word again. Still nothing.
Nick sighed and before she could even glance at him, his hand covered hers as he guided the oval thing. "I have to admit you're a great actress. Here." He made the arrow go over the word "Movies", then pressed down on her index finger.
The pictures changed, the words changed, and she stifled a screech. She glanced at Nick and found his face just inches from hers. His breath fanned her cheek, and her hand burned where his laid over it.
She understood what this feeling meant. Sexual attraction. She'd never truly experienced it before. She'd married for political gain, not love. Most men of her stature had been unattractive. And on each of her nine awakenings, although she'd met a few handsome men, she'd not felt this tug, this pull.
For an instant, she indulged herself, enjoying the sizzle where their flesh met, the way his warmth flooded her always-too-cold fingers, the feel of his arm brushing against hers. Then he spoke and she forced herself back into reality.
Reality being she'd be a statue forever if she didn't find Nicholas' answer.
"Just place the cursor over whatever you're interested in, until it turns into a hand. Then click this button."
She nodded, and he straightened up, breaking contact. She sucked in a deep breath, chose a movie title that sounded interesting and did what he'd said.
The image changed, and she smiled. Success!
She looked up at Nick, who'd withdrawn a few feet. His frown dug furrows between his eyes.
"Thank you."
He nodded. "I don't know what your game is, but there's no way in Hell that you were a statue. If it weren't for my daughter---" He shook his head. "I'll be watching you."
Then he left, heading to his bedroom, which was across from Sami's and in the opposite direction from hers. She noted that he didn't close his door.
No matter. The fact remained that she was here, and her time ticked away rapidly. So she'd make the best of it.
She started reading. And quickly became confused. Many of the movies were about alternate realities, or about people with super powers. Or movies where crazed things stalked and killed people. Was today's world really filled with these kinds of people? Or was this a way for people to escape from everyday chaos?
There were a few movies the reviewers called "chick flicks", so Amara studied those. Some of them, if she clicked in the right place, popped up with short pieces of the movie. These seemed more like what she'd expect. She learned about modern love and relationships.
Then the computer stopped working. She didn't know why, but nothing she chose would show, and an annoying message that made no sense to her wouldn't go away.
"You have too many screens open."
Amara jumped, and found Sami standing beside her. The little girl pointed at the bottom of the glass.
"See that? That means that your memory is all jumbled up. I did that before, when I was just learning how."
"Oh." Life for a six-year-old was much different than what Amara would have expected. And her memory seemed fine, so Sami must mean the computer. "How do I fix it?"
"Like this. You take the mouse and..." Sami took away the plastic thing, apparently a mouse, clicked a few times and everything went away. Amara breathed a sigh of relief. This computer thing was way over her head and told her way too much. She felt lost in a snowstorm of information and didn't know what to do next.
Then Sami did something remarkable and totally unexpected. She crawled onto Amara's lap while still retaining ownership of the mouse. "Did you find your answer?"
Amara shook her head. "You mean the true meaning of love? No, I didn't expect to. But I needed to know more about your times."
Sami cocked her head as she started clicking buttons on the mouse. "Isn't true love something that happens between a boy and a girl when they get older? Mom says she and Roger have true love."
Amara smiled. "No, I made that mistake the first time I guessed. He's not looking for a 'man-woman' thing."
Yes, she'd tried that. She'd guessed "a lifetime commitment and devotion between two people". That, from listening to two lovers.
"A love where you'd sacrifice your own goals for another." That from am other talking about her children.
"'A love where you would change anything or do anything for another." She'd found that from a brother who'd joined an army to free his family from poverty.
"A feeling that raises you up above the pettiness of the world." That from a nun.
"A love where you know you cannot live without the other." That from a young woman waiting for her beloved to come home from a war.
"Love is the process of extending yourself to one another." From a priest. She'd decided later he equated love with tithing.
"An intense feeling of desire and oneness with another." That she'd come up with on her own, after observing young couples defying their parents to be with the objects of their desires.
"Love is eternal and unconditional." That had been her last guess, and although she'd felt very strongly about it, it too had been wrong.
Eight guesses. Eight failures.
She didn't think about the ninth time. That time, she'd not guessed. Instead, she'd plunged herself into the ice-filled river, intent upon ending her torment. And instead found herself back in statue form and fully awake for several years. It had been true horror.
No, she wouldn't think about that. Instead, she concentrated on Sami, who apparently knew her way about this computer rather well. She'd already started up more pictures, this one showing a cartoon mouse.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Daddy set this up for me. It's a game site for kids from Disney."
She understood games. She didn't know what a "Disney" was. "So 'Disney' is the mouse?"
Sami giggled. "No, silly, that's Mickey Mouse." She looked at Amara. "Is it okay if I play? Daddy won't be awake for hours and hours, and I need something to do."
Amara nodded. And spent the next few hours getting to know Sami while the girl sat on her lap and played games. It felt good, having this little girl curled up against her, chattering away about all sorts of things.
Despite her deadline, despite the darkness facing her, Amara had never felt so happy in her life.
"Tell me again why we're doing this," Nick grumbled.
Sami rolled her eyes as she tugged on one red mitten. "She wants to visit the priest, Daddy. And you said this is the only time he's not busy."
Nick sighed, glancing down the hallway where Amara had disappeared when he'd asked her about a coat. "She could go alone."
"Daddy..."
Nick contained a wince at Sami's whine. She'd become very attached to this strange woman. Too attached. Nick already regretted letting her stay.
Amara emerged, a fluffy white jacket with a fur-trimmed hood thankfully covering up her very distracting sweater.
"That was in your bundle?" he asked.
She smiled. "I'm a very good packer." She thrust out a pink-gloved hand to Sami. "Ready to go?" Sami slipped her tiny---and vulnerable---hand in hers.
Amara continued looking at Nick with a question in her eyes. "Sami asked me to go ice-skating with you. I hope that's okay."
Nick nearly moaned in frustration. He'd planned this time to get to know Sami better, to spend time only with her. Now a total stranger---a crazy stranger---just showed up and horned in on his time with his daughter.
But one look at Sami's hopeful eyes, and all he could do was nod his acceptance.
Sami squealed and Amara laughed. "You might not be so excited when you see how badly I skate. I've never tried before."
"Daddy can teach you. He taught me." She looked up at Nick with those Daddy-is-Superman eyes he loved to see, only this time he wanted to run away from them. He didn't want anything to do with the crazy statue lady, no matter how beautiful her eyes were or how her smile lifted him up somewhere he really didn't want to go.
Sami held him on the edge of an abyss with her gaze.
"Right, Daddy?"
And she shoved him right off the cliff. "Sure, honey."
\*
"You wanted to see a priest. We saw a priest."
Amara tamped down her growing impatience with Nick. He'd said that several times now, and she could only keep parroting the same thing. "That's not the right priest. They said Father Lattigan will be here soon."
Nick glanced at his watch again. "It's been a half an hour. We can come back later. Or Sami and I can go skating and you can stay."
"No, Daddy."
The office door opened, and an elderly priest entered. "I'm sorry for the wait," he said, turning around and carefully shutting the door. He nodded at Nick, then smiled at Sami. "We've had a bit of excitement around here. Seems one of our statues---" His gaze fell on Amara. His eyes widened.
"Oh, my." He sat in his chair heavily, his gaze never leaving her face.
"Hello, Father." Strange, his voice seemed so familiar to her. Comforting, like an old friend.
"Hello, child. Only you're not a child, are you?" His pale gray eyes regarded her with a mixture of sadness and excitement. "I knew the legend, of course, but I never thought I'd live to see it." He reached across his desk and squeezed her hand. "Yet here you are."
"Is this some joke?" Nick's voice showed his shock, and his anger. "I'm being set up, aren't I?"
Father Lattigan frowned at him. "Please. I'm a man of God. I have no need to play games." He turned his attention back to Amara. "I have so many questions for you."
His smile warmed her heart, and his belief in her plight made her so happy. She had two allies now. She glanced at Nick. And one very firm non-believer.
"I have questions for you. But Nick and Sami want to go skating. They've been very kind and patient."
"Then let them go, and we can each satisfy our curiosity."
Amara laughed. "But I want to go too. I've never skated before. You see," she said gently, "this is my last chance. And considering my lack of success in the past, I want to enjoy my last few hours of freedom."
"Your last chance? Then all the more reason to stay and see if I can help you."
Amara glanced at Sami. "Father, you are very kind. But you see, I think that getting to know Sami is the key. She's the first person to ever see me change."
"You saw that?" Father Lattigan looked at Sami in awe. "What a wonderful thing for you."
Sami didn't return his smile. "What happens to Amara if we don't help her?"
"But we will help her," he said. "Helping people is my life's work." He turned his attention to Nick. "Your father isn't as believing as you."
"And you seem all too eager to believe it yourself," Nick said.
"When I bought the statue, of knew of its 'habit' of disappearing. I know of the legend as well, that the statue is the Countess Amara de la Cortese, who disappeared one Christmas Eve, on the same night the statue appeared." He gazed at Amara, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. "So tell me what your quest consists of, and I'll try to help you while you enjoy life."
"I'm to answer one question. What is the true meaning of love?"
Father Lattigan's eyes widened in surprise. "That can mean so many things. And for each person, it could vary. I'll do a bit of research and when you come back, we'll discuss it. But I'm afraid, child, that the asker of that question is looking for something very deep and very personal---to you."
\*
"Amara! Look at me!"
Amara looked up at Sami, who did a two-legged spin, with her father standing a few short feet away. Then she grabbed his hand and did a one-legged spin.
Amara dropped her fight with the impossibly long strings on the skates they'd rented and clapped vigorously. "Good job, Sami!"
She looked at the strings balefully. She'd watched Nick tie his own, then Sami's, and thought she could do it, but she'd been very, very wrong. It had looked like a simple bow, but what to do with all the string?
She glanced around. The New York skyline loomed beyond the Central Park trees, fascinating Amara. She would never have believed buildings that tall could exist. And all the people. She'd seen more people than had lived in her entire town just on the walk to Wollman Rink.
She turned her attention once more to the ice. There were quite a few people enjoying the crisp winter air, the pale sunshine. She hunted for Nick and Sami, and found the little girl several yards away practicing her spins. She didn't see Nick until he surged out of the rink to kneel next to her.
"Here, let me help you." Without waiting for a reply, he picked up one foot and rested it on his bent knee. He wrapped the long strings around her leg, made a complicated gesture which ended up with two loops, then stuffed the remainder of the strings in the top of her skate.
She stared at his handiwork as he swapped feet. "Thank you. You made it look so easy before, but I have to admit I would never have gotten it."
"I don't think I've ever met anyone over six who couldn't tie their own shoes." He glanced up at her, his dark brown gaze assessing. "You've almost convinced me that your fairy tale is true." He finished tying her skate, then stood up and held out his leather-encased hand. "Come on, let's get you out on the ice."
Tentatively, she placed her hand in his. He helped her up to her feet, then walked with her to the ice. He moved so well on those thin metal blades. Amara tried mimicking the way he walked and did quite well, she thought.
Until they stepped on the ice.
Then her feet went in opposite directions, and Amara found herself hanging onto Nick's arm to stay semi-upright, while her butt stuck out behind her.
Nick didn't miss a step but just kept gliding toward Sami. Amara held on for dear life. She looked up at Nick and discovered him smiling at her.
"Relax," he said. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Yes, what was the worst that could happen? She'd fall. Compared to being a statue, falling would be welcome. With a laugh, she pulled on his hand, straightening herself up a bit. "You're right. I'm going to enjoy this." She tried moving her feet the way he did and had some success. "Yes, I'm going to have fun." She smiled at Nick. "Just don't let go."
They reached Sami, and after a minute or two of practicing moving her feet, Amara let them lead her around the rink a few times. The wind nipped her cheeks, music flooded her ears, and she knew that one tiny misstep and she'd fall flat.
She loved it. It was life, and she loved it.
"Okay," she said after the third time around and only one fall. "I'm ready."
"Ready for what?" Sami asked.
"I want to spin, just like you did. Well, not like you did." She looked at Nick, whose dark hair had been ruffled by a soft breeze. "Spin me."
His eyes crinkled as he guided them carefully through the crowd. He seemed impossibly handsome. "Spin you?"
"Yes. I want to feel how it is to twirl without a care. So spin me."
His mouth quirked. "All right. Just do what I do with my feet, okay?"
She dropped Sami's hand and took the other hand he offered her. And while copying his movements, she gripped both his hands tightly, leaned back as instructed and hoped to heaven that he'd not let go.
They picked up speed and soon she felt like she flew over the ice. Her spirit soared and laughter burst out from her. Nick's hands were her only link to the earth and his smile the only gift she ever wanted as she twirled and twirled.
In five hundred years, she'd never felt so free.
"So this is pizza?" Amara stared at the round pastry smothered in cheese with funny round slabs of meat all over it.
"You've never had pizza?"
She shook her head, aware of Sami and Nick watching her every move. They sat around Nick's tiny dining room table, the one window framing a beautiful sunset. They were all happily tired after a day of skating and "window-shopping". Amara had never thought staring through windows could be so much fun, but these weren't ordinary windows. These were Christmas windows. Sami said her mom told her these windows were magical.
Although a victim of magic herself, Amara didn't think the displays were enchanted, just a marvel of the modern world. But she still enjoyed them. The elves, the moving trains, the dancing children, they all made Sami laugh, so Amara laughed as well. She even got over seeing images of Saint Nicholas, or as the Americans called him, Santa Claus, everywhere. Of course, they displayed a happier and fatter version of her tormenter, so it became rather easy to pretend it wasn't him at all.
They'd stopped a few blocks from Nick's home and gotten a pizza for dinner. A New York style pizza, which apparently meant it was much better than ordinary pizzas Sami could get back home. Since Amara had nothing to compare it to, she let daughter and father joke around about toppings and whether things were truly "bigger in Texas".
Now, though, they expected her to eat this concoction, and with her hands, not with a fork or knife, something she'd used at special occasions when she'd been a Comtesse. She'd rather liked the fact eating utensils were widely used these days, but apparently not with pizza.
So she picked up a slice and bent it slightly down the middle, like Nick did, and took a bite. Hot cheese, thick, chewy bread and tangy sauce. She chewed carefully, trying not to singe her tongue.
"Very good." She took a sip of water. "And very hot."
A few more bites told her she didn't like the meat, called pepperoni, so Nick and Sami laughingly fought over the meat as she handed it to them.
"You have been so kind to me," Amara said. "I would like to make you a Buche de Noel."
"A what?" Nick asked.
Amara smiled. "A Christmas cake. Over the centuries, it took place of our yule log, which is what I grew up with. The last few awakenings, I've learned about this and would like to share it with you. It's a cake, spread with filling, rolled up and frosted and decorated to look like a log. In France, this is on everyone's table. I would like to share this with you."
"Weren't you like a pampered princess? And you know how to cook?" Nick asked.
"Please, I am French, we live for food." She lifted her chin in mock-indignation, and Sami laughed.
Nick frowned. "We have reservations at a local restaurant for a ham dinner. Pie's included. I hate to see you go to too much trouble."
"Oh, Daddy, this sounds much better than pie," Sami said, her small face lit with delight. "And Christmas dinner at a restaurant doesn't sound very Christmassy."
"I know how to cook ham," Amara said.
Nick looked from Amara to his daughter. Over the few years since the divorce, she'd become a stranger to him, with a whole other life. He'd wanted to connect with her so badly this trip, and despite the presence of this strange woman, he felt they'd become closer. Perhaps this dinner would help?
"I don't have any of the food here," he told them.
Amara smiled. "You have a market close by, no? I'll write down what we need, and we'll go shopping. It will only take a moment."
Frowning, Nick glanced out the window. "I'm afraid you have a previous date, Comtesse." He nodded toward the church. There, on the bench next to the now-missing statue, sat Father Lattigan.
\*
Amara sat quietly in the dark living room of Nick's apartment, the only sound that of the traffic outside. Hot tears stung her eyes.
She'd pinned so much hope on Father Lattigan, but he'd offered her little more than empty advice. "Listen to your heart, child. Love isn't ruled by logic or reason. It's ruled by the heart. When it comes time, look there for your answer."
But her heart still felt as if it were trapped in stone. Had she ever known true love? No. She'd been desired for her beauty and her family's power, but never truly for herself. She'd find no answers from inside.
At least she hadn't lost her temporary home. Nick had left it unlocked for her to return. She'd wondered, for a moment, if he'd use this chance to rid himself of the "crazy woman". Maybe, just maybe, he'd started to believe.
She heard some voices and a key being inserted into the entry door. Amara hastily wiped away an errant tear, stood up, straightened her sweater, planted her fingers in her back pockets as she'd seen Sami do and pasted a welcoming smile on her face.
Only, when she saw Nick and Sami happily chattering as they entered, the smile became genuine.
They'd seemed so distant to each other when she'd first met them. Now they truly enjoyed each other's company.
Nick caught Amara's gaze. "The good father any help?"
Amara shrugged. "It's up to me." She continued to smile, but knew she didn't hide her disappointment well.
Sami crossed to her, setting her bag near the kitchen. She took Amara's chilly hand. "It's okay. It's Christmas time. Miracles happen at Christmas, don't they?" She looked up at Nick, who nodded. Amara thought he hid his doubts well.
"You're right," she said, grinning at the little girl, so beautiful in her childish simplicity. "Let's make a cake, okay?"
\*
"No, we had no electricity. Or indoor plumbing. Or running water. I like all of that." Amara laughed. Sami giggled as she carefully stirred flour into some beaten egg whites.
Nick, sitting on a kitchen stool, watched his daughter's face as she and Amara worked on the Christmas cake. She seemed so happy, and what about Amara? With the weight of her future on her shoulders, she seemed as carefree as Sami.
Nick still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that she'd ever been a statue, that she came from five hundred years ago or that she needed to break a curse with such a ridiculous question. How hard could it be to define love?
Yet even as he thought it, he knew he'd never quite succeeded. The only love he'd ever been sure of came from his parents, now in Florida with his sister's family. Sami---well, he knew he loved her and, before this visit, thought she loved the idea of a daddy but not really this daddy. But when she'd hugged him this afternoon while traipsing through Manhattan, he'd felt her love emanating from her.
So he could sympathize with Amara's plight. He wanted to help her himself. Maybe go online and find some definitions of love?
Then he mentally shook himself. Was he starting to believe all of this? Sami believed, but she thought she'd seen something through tired eyes and a blanket of falling snow. The priest believed, but he'd bought into some French legend that had come with the statue. Nick didn't have any of that cluttering up his head.
Yet he'd let her in his house, near his daughter. A crazy woman or a cursed woman stood in his kitchen teaching his little girl how to make a Christmas log.
He nearly snorted. Maybe his cynicism had melted a tiny bit.
Amara spread the no-stick aluminum foil down on the cookie sheet and carefully poured the batter while Sami scraped the bowl. Small splatters of chocolate batter dotted the little girl's face and Amara's hands. Then Sami opened the oven door---the oven that rarely saw anything more than frozen pizzas---and slid the cake in.
Amara straightened up and smiled. "You're sure about the temperature?" she asked Nick for the tenth time.
He shook his head. "Now who's the cynic? That's what the recipe called out for."
They'd printed a half-dozen recipes off the Internet, and Amara had chosen one she considered fairly simple. But for a woman who'd grown up with wood ovens, the idea of his electric one seemed to fill her with doubt.
"Now we set the timer," Sami said very matter-of-factly.
"A timer?" Amara looked at her in confusion. "What's a timer?"
Nick smiled, stood up and punched the timer button on the stove. "What does the recipe say for how long to cook?" he asked.
Amara searched the print-out. He still marveled over her reading skills---if she were from France, how did she know English? Her explanation of a magical wafer seemed rather far-fetched.
But so did her very existence.
And the clothes. He'd seen that bundle. He'd lifted it himself. There could be no way that fat jacket, those jeans and sweater had been in that package that had been barely two inches thick and the size of a phone book. No way.
Then, where had it come from?
He shook himself mentally. He was a doctor, damn it. He dealt in scientific facts. Nothing in his life had prepared him for any of this.
"Ten to twelve minutes," she said.
Nick set the timer for ten and sat back down.
He watched as the two of them started making something called marzipan. Amara looked up at him and her half-smile and the twinkle in her eyes made him forget that none of this could be real.
All he knew was that with one tiny smile his cares melted away.
\*
"Sami, hand me another plate, will you?" Nick glanced at his daughter, wearing an oversized apron, as the three of them served up scrambled eggs at the local homeless shelter. He and his co-workers did this every year, and this year was no different. This year marked the first time he'd ever brought anyone with him, and they'd greeted Sami with welcoming smiles and "she's adorable", and Amara with questions in their eyes.
He'd had no answers for them.
Amara, despite her purported royal bloodline, pitched right in, pouring glass after glass of orange juice and doling out smiles to everyone. It didn't matter that very few returned the smile, she still beamed at them. Especially at the children. She would also hand them a tiny candy cane that the shelter had piles of.
Yet somehow she carried a aura of sadness. When the line died down a bit, he stepped around his daughter and leaned into her.
"Why so sad?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
She bowed her head. "These people---they remind me of the villagers under my rule. Sad, hollow eyes, without any hope. It reminds me of how cruel I'd truly been." She lifted glittering eyes to him. "I imprisoned a man for stealing food for his family on Christmas Eve. I threatened his children. Little children, who only wanted food."
"Amara..." He didn't know what to say. She'd not shown any hard-hearted tendencies around him.
"I was a monster." She grabbed another glass of juice, gave out another smile.
"Obviously you've changed a lot," he said. "Maybe that's the whole point of this. To change into a better person."
Although he could only see her profile now, he couldn't miss the tremble of her hands. "This change---how do you think it will help me when I'm frozen into stone?"
\*
Christmas carolers belted out a rock-beat version of "Silent Night" as Nick and Sami held hands, with Amara on Sami's other side. None of her anguish showed on her beautiful face, and she laughed with the crowd when children sporting antlers and large noses acted out "Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer".
Then Santa appeared, doing a solo of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and Amara stopped smiling. She stared up above the singers, at the huge Christmas tree, and Nick wondered why. He'd noticed a similar reaction in her when they'd been admiring the window displays.
She called Nicholas, Daddy. She was calling for you. No, she hadn't. She'd been calling for---Saint Nick?
Was that who'd done this to her? A jolly old elf had turned her into a statue?
I threatened his children. Saint Nick's legend spoke of protecting the children. Had this been his way of stopping their suffering?
Oh gawd. He was starting to believe all of this.
They walked toward home, and Nick pondered all of it. Amara, Saint Nick, the statue, her predicament. Somehow, it all made sense. In a crazy, bizarre way, it did all fit together.
He wanted to talk to the priest again, ask him more about the legend. Somewhere in there might be a way to free Amara.
"Was it good?" Amara looked around expectantly, and her childish need for approval caused Nick to laugh.
He swallowed a bite and said, "Yes, it was wonderful. Amazing what you can do with ham."
Amara shook her head. "I've never seen such a thing as a canned ham. Who would have thought? But I will miss the bone." She shook a fork at him. "Good soup with the bone."
Even as she said it, it struck her---she wouldn't be here tomorrow to have used that bone in soup. These last two days, they'd been wonderful, like an amazing gift. But she knew that in six hours, it would be over. She fingered the little necklace Sami had made her out of beads and given her that morning. Made with childish fingers, it was rough and crude, nothing like the jewels that had adorned her as Comtesse, but she found them more beautiful than anything that had ever touched her skin, because they came with love.
Her heart filled with warmth as she gazed at the little girl. Then she glanced at Nick, found him watching her. His eyes held questions, but also admiration. He was so handsome, and when he laughed, she felt her pulse jump. All day thoughts of kissing him flitted through her mind, and she determined right then and there that before midnight she'd steal a kiss. It would be something to cling to if she once again became stone.
The thought of kissing him brought heat and a smile to her face. He looked at her questioningly, and she could only smile larger.
"Who wants dessert?" She scooted away from the table, grabbing plates to clear as she went. Nick stood as well, picking up some items.
Once they entered the kitchen, he asked her, "What was that smile about?"
She shook her head. No way would she tell him what she wanted. "I'm happy. You and Sami---you make me happy."
He eyed her with doubt. "I'm not quite buying that, Comtesse. You're up to something." He finished scraping his plate and set it in the dishwasher. Another appliance she adored. "But it can wait until later. For now, let's get that dessert."
"Oh, no. I worked very hard on this after you two went to bed. Go sit down. I want to make an entrance."
With a faint protest, Nick let her shove him back into the dining room. Then Amara went to the fridge and pulled out the cake she'd hidden under a tent of aluminum foil. Peeling it off, she gazed at her creation.
It looked wonderful, just like a log, with marzipan mushrooms, leaves and holly berries. She grabbed the powdered sugar and placing some on her palm, blew on it gently, causing it to rain down over the cake like frost. Grinning happily, she picked up the platter and carried it into the dining room. She wanted to see the joy on their faces at what she'd done.
And when they ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the creation, it filled her with such warmth that all she could do was laugh.
\*
"Goodnight, sweetheart." Amara leaned over the sleeping Sami and, caressing her hair back off her cheek, kissed her. The little girl had fallen asleep while her father had read her one of the new books he'd gotten her for Christmas. She'd tried to stay awake until midnight, to find out what would happen to Amara, but she'd not come close.
It was almost eleven. A little over one hour.
Amara returned to the living room to find Nick sitting on the couch, watching her. She sat next to him.
"So, how does this work? Do you return and he magically appears?"
She nodded. "If I don't return, he calls me there, right at midnight. Then I give him my answer. If I fail, I return to being the statue. If I succeed---" Her smile felt weak. "I've never succeeded, so I don't know what would happen."
"Don't say 'if'. Say 'when'.'"
She didn't want to hope too hard. And she didn't want him to worry. "Whatever happens, it will be as it should be." She spread her hands. "I've had a wonderful two days, Nick. Thank you for that gift."
"You're welcome." He picked up one of her hands. "You gave me a gift as well. You gave me my daughter back." His face became somber. "We'd grown so far apart, and now, I feel we have a good shot at a real relationship.
"Thank you for that." His words were another blessing.
He smiled and Amara decided to take her one last gift from him.
With a swiftness born of nerves, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Then pulled back. Even in that brief touch, a shock wave entered her, and things inside her bubbled up. As if her life had finally come to fruition. She could only stare at him in wonder.
But Nick didn't waste any time staring. His hand cupped the back of her head and he pulled her to him.
And caught her lips in a searing kiss.
If she'd thought things bubbled before, now they boiled in ways she'd never experienced. She moved against him, pressing her body into his, wrapping her arms about him and soaking in everything she could. The roughness of his stubble against her face, the feel of his fingers in her hair, the smell of his skin.
All of it would be burned forever in her memories.
His tongue pressed past her lips, and she moaned. It felt exquisite, it felt like she'd waited just for this moment.
But when his hand traveled to her breast, she knew it had to end. She understood now that sex would be like a promise to him of a future, and she had no future to give him.
She pulled away and, with a small smile, stood. "Thank you. I'll cherish it forever." With that, she went into her room and shut the door.
Then she sat down and wrote Sami a note, telling her how their time spent together had meant so much. When she finished, she glanced at the little clock in her room.
Less than an hour to go.
Nick looked out the window at the empty statue base. Would she really end up back there at midnight, or was this all a far-fetched hoax?
He wouldn't know until after midnight, if even then.
"Daddy."
He whirled around and saw Sami standing there, rubbing one eye.
"Honey, what are you doing up? You should be in bed." He scooped her up and carried her back to her room.
"Where's Amara? She's still here, isn't she?"
He laid her back on her bed and pulled the covers over her. "Yes, sweetheart, she's in her room."
"I want her to stay."
Her words tore into Nick. How could he promise her anything when he didn't know himself what the truth was?
He thought of the kiss he'd shared with Amara. It had been incredible, bringing alive feelings he'd thought he'd long out-grown. But how could any of this be real? That empty base outside. How could she be who she claimed to be?
All his doubts raged forward as he struggled for an answer to Sami's demand.
"Honey, she can't stay. She'd not like a puppy we can simply adopt. If she's telling the truth, then she might become a statue. If she's not---well, then we need to get her some help."
Sami stared at her father. "Mom's right, you don't believe in nothing!"
Sami's angered shocked him. "Your mom said that to you?"
"She said that to Roger." Roger, her step-father. "And she was right. Amara's heart isn't stone. Yours is!"
"Sami..."
"Just go away!" Sami twisted away from him and, pulling the covers up, slid all the way under them. "I don't want to be here any more. I want to go home."
Nick sat there for a moment, wishing he knew what to say. But no brilliant answer came to him. One thing he did know.
If his heart had been made of stone, it wouldn't ache so much.
Sami waited until she heard her door shut, then dressed quickly. She didn't want to stay around and watch Amara turn into a statue again, and she didn't want to stay with her dad. He was hateful and mean. She'd go home. To Mom.
She knew how. She'd done it many times with her father. She'd catch a cab to the airport, then a plane home. She'd talked to her mother earlier, and she'd sounded like she would love Sami to come home, so she would.
She packed up her small backpack with a few pieces of clothing. She looked out the hallway then, after shutting her door silently, she crept to the front door. She could hear voices in Amara's room. While fighting tears, Sami left the apartment in search of a way home.
"Could you watch Sami for a few minutes? I want to go talk to Father Lattigan." Nick had looked outside and seen the priest sitting at the bench by the statue, as if waiting for the outcome to Amara's story.
Amara nodded as she glanced at the clock. All her clothes lay neatly folded on the bed, which was perfectly made. The room looked like nobody had ever stayed there. "Please don't be gone too long. I don't want her alone when I---"
She didn't finish, but he knew. One way or another Amara would be gone.
"I won't be long."
He closed the door and resisted an urge to look in on his daughter. Either she'd be awake and angry or sleeping with a broken heart. Either one he couldn't deal with right now. Right now, all he could hope was that between him and Father Lattigan, they could come up with a solution.
"So that's it? We just wait and see?" Nick's frustration boiled at the priest's answer to his question---how they could help Amara.
Father Lattigan nodded. "It's up to her now. The answer she needs is inside her."
Nick wanted to pound on something. "She's answered this question nine times. She's failed nine times. How is this time any different?"
"Eight times."
"Excuse me?"
"She answered eight times. Once she...refused to answer. And what's different this time is that she's met you. You and Sami. I believe that's changed her profoundly."
Nick remembered her kiss, how sweet and sexy and somehow innocent it had been. Those kisses had affected him deeply. Could they possibly have given Amara the answer?
"It seems like a hell of a gamble for her life."
"Nick!" Amara raced across the street, her dark hair flying about her.
"Amara. Where's Sami?"
"I hoped you knew. Oh, dear heaven, I'd hoped you knew. I went to say goodbye---her bed's empty, and her coat and backpack are gone."
I want to go home.
Fear clutched at him. "She's run away. She's six, she's alone in New York City. She's trying to go home." He felt panic envelop him as he thought about what could happen.
"I'll call the police. You two go look for her." Father Lattigan hurried toward the church.
Nick rushed to the street, Amara following. "We'll do better splitting up," she said.
"No. I don't want you out there alone."
"Nick, I can't be hurt. Trust me. I've tried."
She answered eight times. Once she...refused to answer.
Suicide? Had she become so despondent she'd tried to harm herself? He looked at her, this strong impossible woman. And knew that somehow she'd changed him forever.
"Go." And he took off running.
Amara ran down the deserted street. She'd covered a few blocks now, and no sight of the little girl. Fear propelled her forward. Fear, and love for Sami.
If anything happened to her...
She rounded a corner, and she saw something ahead about a block. A small figure. Could it be---?
Amara started running faster.
Sami wiped another tear from her face. The freezing cold nipped at her wet cheek. She hadn't found any taxis, she didn't know why. Usually all she had to do was go outside and she'd see one. But maybe on Christmas taxi drivers stayed home.
She was scared, and people kept looking at her with cold, hungry eyes. She wanted to go home. She wanted her Mom. Or Daddy. Or Amara.
A sound thundered at her as she walked past a dark alley. With a small scream, she rushed away from the sound and turned the corner.
Up ahead she saw a busier street. There had to be a cab there. She walked to stand under a street lamp and started watching for a taxi.
"Sami!" Turning, she saw someone walking toward her. A tall man hidden in shadows, heavier than her dad, walked straight toward her.
Never talk to strangers. Sami's mother's words reverberated in her head.
Run.
She turned and ran around the corner, then stopped in fear. Someone ran at her.
In a panic she turned and fled from both of them.
Right into the path of a car.
"Sami!"
Amara watched in horror as the little girl hit the pavement. With a scream, she rushed to her.
She lay there, not moving. Amara reached for her. "Sami, no. Sami!"
"Don't touch her." A man grabbed her arm. With a shout, she pulled away.
"It's okay, I'm a police officer. I called for an ambulance."
"Nick." Amara knelt by Sami, by her still form. Please don't die. "She needs her father. Nick. He's looking for her." She gave a brief description of Nick. "He's a doctor. He can save her."
The officer turned and talked into something on his shoulder. "We'll try to find him," he said.
"Oh, Sami, please be okay." She stroked her head, all the while praying.
"Is your name Nick?"
Nick had just yelled for his daughter when a man called out to him. Turning, he saw a uniformed cop leaning out of his patrol car.
"Yeah. I'm looking for my daughter, Sami."
The cop nodded. "We've found her." He motioned for Nick to get in the car. When he'd done so, the cop said, "I have something to tell you."
And Nick knew. Without the officer saying a word, he knew that Sami had been hurt. He closed his eyes in agony as the cop's words confirmed his worst nightmare.
He opened his eyes, bracing himself for reality, hoping for a miracle. The siren and flashing lights seemed unreal. One block, two blocks, then an officer watching for them. Amara. And a small bundle lying in the street.
Sami.
"Sami! Oh God, baby." Nick flew to her side. She lay crumpled on the street, Amara's coat covering her. Instinctively his fingers went to her throat. A pulse, but thready.
He opened one of her eyes, and his heart crashed. The pupil was dilated. He covered the eye and removed his hand. The streetlight shown right into it, but no change.
Brain damage.
He closed his eyes, unable to stand the pain.
"Nick?" He felt Amara's hand on his arm. "Can you save her?"
He couldn't answer her. He couldn't talk. His little girl was gone. He couldn't help her. He couldn't save her.
In the end, all he could do was watch her die.
Watching Nick, Amara knew. Sami would die.
"No."
The little girl had become too precious to her. She couldn't let it happen. Maybe she could stop it.
"Nicholas!" She stood up, stepping away from Sami and her dad. "Nicholas! I know you can hear me. I want to bargain with you. Nicholas, do you hear me?" She sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the two officers and the driver who stared at her as if she were insane.
Why should I bargain with you? She felt him, heard his words in her mind, like a whisper.
"Because of her. Because of Sami. She's precious, don't you see?" Amara sobbed now. "She deserves a good life. So I'll give you my life for hers. My soul for hers. Take me, Nicholas! Let her live! Heal her, Nicholas!"
Do you love her that much, Amara, that you'll sacrifice yourself for her? After all, she's only one child. You might have won your freedom this time.
"I don't care!" She looked back at Sami, at Nick who stood now, watching her in shock. She turned around, and she could see Nicholas, his tall form cloaked in red, his face looking at her almost kindly. "I don't matter, don't you see? She matters. She's the one with the loving heart. She's the one with the bright future, who deserves a second chance." She felt wet heat on her cheeks. "Not me." She took a step forward. "I'll do whatever it takes, Nicholas. Please."
Yourself for her.
"Yes." She nodded, and when he nodded in return, she sobbed her relief. "Thank you, Nicholas. Thank you."
Then the saint disappeared, and she turned back to Sami. Nick stood there, staring at her. "What have you done? Amara, what did you just do?"
She took in his dark eyes, the angles of his face, his lips that she longed to taste again. This moment, she thought, would last her an eternity. Then she looked past him and what she saw made it all worthwhile.
"Nick, look."
He turned and she laughed at his stunned expression. Laughed, then ran.
Because Sami was sitting up.
"Daddy? What happened?"
Amara reached her, held out her arms to her, but Nick held her back.
"No, she might be hurt." With his free hand, he checked Sami out, looking in her eyes. They were fine, Amara knew.
"She's fine." Beyond Nick's arm, she smiled at the girl. "Aren't you?"
"The car hit me, didn't it? Amara, were you talking to Santa Claus?"
"You saw that?" Finally, Nick let her loose, and she grabbed hold of the little girl. "You saw him."
Nick wrapped himself around both of them, pulling the three of them into a tight ball. He kissed Sami fiercely, several times.
"No, not really," Sami said, her voice muffled by her dad's hug. "I heard him, and I knew who he was."
"I could feel something," Nick said. "It was like someone stood there, just out of sight."
Amara began to tingle, then she felt it---the tug, the pull. She knew her time had run out. "I have to leave now, Sami." She hugged the girl tighter.
"You're going to go tell Santa your answer now?"
Amara looked down at her and shook her head. "I gave it away, and you know what? I've never been happier. I want you to know, you've given me the best present ever. Because of you, I learned how to truly love." She could see her hands starting to fade. Before it was too late, she kissed Sami's forehead.
"Goodbye."
"No, Amara! Don't go!"
She turned her gaze to Nick, who watched her with a look bordering on despair. She could admit it now. She'd fallen in love with him.
Their gazes locked, and Amara told him everything in that one instant, without ever uttering a word. Unbidden, one hand reached for him. They touched, and for a moment, she felt that sizzle, that recognition that here, finally, she'd found the missing piece of her soul.
Then there was nothing.
"No!"
Nick grasped at Amara, but nothing stopped her from fading away. His body screamed at the loss, his heart pounded at the message she'd sent him.
She loved him.
He looked down at Sami, still clutched in his arms, and up at the cops, who looked as stunned as he felt. Then at his watch, whose glowing dial stated he had under ten minutes to do something, anything.
"Sami, honey, I have to run. Literally. Baby, stay with these kind officers, who'll bring you home. Okay?" He looked at the cops, and one nodded as if in a daze. Then the other officer shook himself, nodded at his car, with the lights flashing on the roof.
"I'll drive you."
"And I'm going too, Daddy."
He looked at Sami's stubborn little face, to the cop's, then nodded. "All right, let's go."
It took them only a moment to get to the church. Nick closed his eyes briefly at the sight. It hurt too damned much.
The statue stood there, on its pedestal, with arms reaching out, just as before.
Silently, he and Sami exited the car. As they approached, he lifted Sami up, who'd begun to cry. At the base stood Father Lattigan. He smiled at Sami, obviously relieved she was okay. He looked up at the statue, one tear silently traversing his weathered cheek.
"The inscription's changed," he said. "It reads, 'Amara---a loving heart who gave her life for another'. And she's smiling now."
Nick looked up, and what Father Lattigan said was true. The statue of Amara---his Amara---radiated with true joy, where before she'd been almost expressionless.
"Daddy," Sami breathed, "She's wearing my necklace."
The sight of Sami's little beads, now encased in stone, brought unspeakable sorrow to bear.
It had been true. All of it. Now, he'd lost her forever.
Sami reached out to the statue, and Nick took her closer until she could wrap her arms about her. Amara wore her original robes and stood in the same pose as before, but Nick could feel the changes. Because now a good chunk of his heart stood frozen in that statue.
Damned if he'd let her go without a fight.
"Nicholas!" If the stakes weren't so high, he'd feel like a fool, standing in the middle of New York City yelling at a ghost, a spirit. "I understand why you imprisoned her all those years ago. She said herself she was a bad person. But she's not now. She just sacrificed her last chance at freedom for a little girl she only met two days ago. She's changed. You got what you wanted. She grew a heart. Now you're going to freeze that loving, giving heart?"
He looked around him. Nothing. When Amara had spoken to the saint, Nick had felt something.
He looked at his daughter, who hugged Amara, tears coating her cheeks. A few minutes ago, she lay dying. Now, she walked and talked. A true Christmas miracle.
But Nick wanted more.
"You gave Amara only part of her deal. She bargained her life away, and you didn't deliver. Look at my little girl, Nicholas! Look at her. She might be alive, but she's not healed. Because you took Amara away from her, she now has a broken heart."
"Daddy!" Sami lifted her eyes to Nick. "Daddy, you're yelling at Santa Claus."
Nick looked at Father Lattigan, then at the cop. The cop shrugged, but Father Lattigan said, "I would say that under the circumstances, yelling would be acceptable."
Nick looked up at Amara. Somewhere, a clock began to toll. Midnight.
Right then, Nick felt it. That same surety of someone standing near.
And what are you willing to sacrifice for Amara? Because I agree, she has changed and become very precious.
Nick closed his eyes in relief. Saint Nicholas had answered. There was still a chance. "I'd give my life to her." Opening his eyes, he saw Nicholas shimmering several feet away, his bright eyes expectant. "Whatever it will take to make her happy, I'll do it. She'll never spend another day not knowing love."
That is a very ambitious promise.
"And I mean every word of it. Will you accept?"
Nicholas smiled widely. It's not up to me. He looked past Nick.
Nick turned around. Kneeling on the statue's pedestal was Amara, holding Sami.
Amara, you have exceeded my every wish for you. There's a saying that actions speak louder than words, and your unselfish sacrifice of yourself for Sami tells me that you learned the true meaning of love.
To truly love someone means that you'd die for that person. There is no greater love than that.
Nicholas walked past the dumbstruck cop, nodded at Father Lattigan and stopped between Nick and Amara. He lifted his staff and it burst into light.
Amara de la Cortese, I declare you free. Please, child, come away from the pedestal.
Amara, looking numb and obviously overwhelmed, didn't move for a moment, until the light flared brightly above her. Then she and Sami scurried off. Before their eyes, the statue returned, looking as it had for centuries.
A gift to you, Father Lattigan, for comforting this child with your presence.
The good father nodded as he stared at the statue. Nick noticed the beads were gone from this version. The originals hung around Amara's neck.
Child, this man is willing to devote his life to you. But you are free now, and as my Christmas gift to you I will grant you a life anywhere you wish to go. Name the place and I'll give you the tools to start a new life.
Amara looked at Nicholas as she assessed his words. You are free now. She'd waited several lifetimes to hear those words. But right now she longed to hear four other words spoken from another Nicholas.
Amara, I love you.
She felt Sami's hand tighten in hers. "Santa Claus, I always thought you were a nice person," the little girl said. "But you're very mean to Amara."
The apparition knelt down to eye-level with Sami. My gift to children five hundred years ago was to remove Amara from them so she could do no harm. My gift to you this year is to let you see how love can transform even the coldest heart.
"Sami, he was right to do what he did," Amara said. "I understand now. Not only did you save the children, but you gave me many more chances than I deserved to become someone better." Then she uttered the words she'd sworn for five hundred years she'd never say to him. "Thank you."
They felt so good, so right, that she couldn't contain a smile.
Never letting go of Sami's hand, Amara walked past Saint Nicholas until she stood in front of Nick. She captured his gaze with her own and didn't let go. "Nicholas, you asked me to choose a life. To live anywhere in the world I want."
She reached out, and immediately Nick grasped her hand. Recognition flared between them. She looked into his eyes and she didn't need to hear those words. She could read them, bannered across his face.
As she spoke, each word erased the pain and loneliness of the last five centuries. "I choose this. I choose here and now. Nicholas, give me what I've already found."
You are in charge of your own destiny now, child.
Amara didn't see Nicholas fade, she didn't hear his soft chuckle or witness his lingering gaze filled with warmth and approval as he left.
Because she was too busy engulfed in Nick's hug, in melting in his kiss, in Sami's fierce embrace about her waist.
"I love you," Nick whispered against her hair.
"I love you." Amara laughed, hugging him intensely, then she wrapped an arm about Sami. She felt a tear stream down her face and shouted, "Thank you, Nicholas! And merry Christmas!"
Nick kissed her again, and with a bark of laughter, he twirled the three of them until they all laughed with joy. Then with a smile of thanks to Father Lattigan and the officer, he said, "Let's go home."
"Home." Amara smiled at her new family. "I love the sound of that." She held onto Nick and Sami's hands and marched boldly into her new life, her new heart full to bursting.
Thank you, Nicholas, she whispered silently, for everything.
About the Author
To learn more about Stacia, please visit http://www.staciawolf.com. Send an email to stacia@staciawolf.com.
Look for these titles by Stacia Wolf
Now Available:
You'll Be the Death of Me
Pretend You Love Me
He is looking for the love of his life, she is looking for a little refuge.
Look What Santa Brought
© 2007 Annmarie McKenna
Scott Wyatt knows what he wants for Christmas and it comes in a beautiful-voiced, make his heart race, more than tempting package. If only he could see her.
Tara Patrick needs a man to make her ex see the light. But her best friend's gorgeous brother offers himself for the job, she has to say no. How could she possibly use the blind man who makes her heart flutter and not get hurt in the process?
Staring at the business opportunity of a lifetime, Tara finds herself living as close to Scott as one can without sharing a bed. Tara's ex isn't happy and he sets out to prove he won't lose her. But when darkness falls, which man has the advantage, because Scott isn't willing to let Tara go either.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Look What Santa Brought.
Tara nearly swallowed her tongue. "Wha...what?" she gasped. Her hands shook with his announcement. She carefully set the mug on the table so no coffee would slosh out. If only he knew how much she wanted him to be the other man.
He'd been such a good friend. And that's all he's offering right now, dummy. Friendship. Tara dug her nails into her jeans and inhaled.
"Scottie, be serious, would you? This isn't a game," Brianna snapped.
Tara nodded, agreeing with her best friend.
"I am dead serious," Scott ground out, his face taut.
Tara's heart lurched. What would it feel like to be held in Scott's arms, to be cherished by...
She shook her head. Not possible. The man was richer than rich, and besides wanting to help a friend, he wouldn't want anything romantic. Not when he could have his pick of any woman in the country.
Gathering her errant thoughts, Tara cleared her throat. "That's sweet, Scott, really, but not needed, I assure you." I'm lying, please see that I'm lying! I do need you.
Scott slumped in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. His face looked dejected. Why? She would have thought he'd be overjoyed with being let off the hook.
"Somebody needs to help," Scott demanded. "You see any other candidates around?"
Tara had to smile. The man was sulking, pure and simple.
"Jeez, Scottie, we didn't know you cared so much," Brianna teased, reaching across to slap Scott on the thigh.
He didn't take too well to that. His lip curled and he stood. Tara let her gaze move the length of his delicious body from his knees, to his firm thighs, over the decidedly large bulge at his fly, the smooth hardness of his abs beneath his tight-fitting T-shirt---
Tara did a double take and returned her gaze to his fly and the very noticeable bump he did nothing to even attempt to hide.
Her throat was suddenly parched.
"Whenever you twits decide how you want to handle this situation, let me know, would you? I was only trying to help," he grumbled.
Scott moved away, letting Kissy-Face lead him through the crowded café.
Damn. Why did that make her feel like a complete loser? She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings.
"Did he just call us twits?" Brianna asked.
"I believe he did, little one." Tyler wrapped a big hand around Brianna's neck and gave it a caressing squeeze.
Tara sighed. She'd never had that kind of attention before. She wanted it. Badly. Would Scott be like that? Would he lavish her with sweet little kisses like Tyler was doing on Bri's neck?
"Oh, get a room," she barked, coming out of her musings. Scott and she together would never work. Ridiculous to even contemplate it.
Brianna cleared her throat and pushed Tyler's roving lips away. "I'm sorry, Tara. You're right, we need to think about you. What can I do?"
Tara snorted and flopped back on the small couch. She covered her face with her hands and rolled her head back and forth. "I don't know," she groaned. "I have to find a place to live, so unless you know someone who needs a roommate, I---"
"Stay with us."
She jumped at Scott's deep voice behind her and twisted to look up at him. "What?" She laughed, willing her heart back into a normal rhythm. She hadn't even heard the man come back. He smelled so yummy. His belly was eye level and Tara longed to rub her cheek against it.
"I said, stay with me, us, I mean. Stay at the house."
House? From what she'd seen, they didn't live in a house. The place was huge in an over-exaggerated sort of way. No. She couldn't stay there. Not with him. The nearness would drive her batty.
"I can't do that, Scott."
"Why not?" Brianna asked, drawing Tara's attention. She leaned forward, excitement lighting her eyes. "It's perfect. Moving in with us would have to make Eric see you're no longer interested. Plus, you wouldn't have to go apartment hunting. She could stay there, right, Ty?" She elbowed Tyler in the ribs.
"Oof." He rubbed the offended body part with a grimace. "What the hell did you do that for?" Tyler grabbed Brianna's fingers and held them under his palm on his thigh. "Of course you're welcome to stay. There's no reason to become violent," he mumbled at Bri.
Tara smiled. She could see how pissed he was as his thumb traced a soothing path over Brianna's wrist.
She shook her head. "I can't."
"Why not?" Scott growled behind her.
She turned again but he'd already moved. Stooping over, he ran one set of fingers along the table's edge and the other searched for his seat.
"Two steps, Scott," Tara whispered.
He stopped moving and turned his head toward her, his gaze hidden behind the sunglasses. She wished she could see his eyes just once. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never seen them.
He stood tall and took two steps. After doing a ninety-degree turn, he sat without feeling for the seat.
Her heart pounded. She hadn't meant for him to hear her, but he had. What if she'd been wrong? What if he'd taken two steps and fallen on his ass? Her cheeks flamed.
Scott's smile lit up the café, making her tummy quiver. "Thanks." Kissy flopped to the floor beside him. "Now then. Why in the hell can't you take our offer? If you want to show this dickhead you mean business, let me help."
Stubborn bastard.
Forgiveness is the most difficult thing to give but the most cherished thing to receive.
Love Me, Still
© 2007 Maya Banks
Beloved mate to two wolves, Heather lived an idyllic life until hunters destroyed the pack's peaceful existence.
Believing their mate betrayed them and was responsible for their father's death, Cael and Riyu cut Heather from their lives. But when they realize their terrible mistake, can they ever gain her forgiveness and win back her love?
Enjoy the following excerpt for Love Me, Still
Cael pulled the heavy furs tighter around him as he, Niko and Riyu fanned out and trudged higher up the mountain. Their inability to shift and move faster frustrated him, but there was a human in the area. A trapper if he had to guess. They didn't want to startle him by coming up on him in wolf form. It was a good way to get themselves shot.
For a week, he and the others had scoured the area around their old encampment. They could detect no trace of Heather's scent. Then yesterday, when the wind had shifted and blew from the north, he had caught the faintest whiff of her.
They had charged up the mountain in the direction of the wind, anxious to find her.
Suddenly Riyu stopped ahead of Cael. He lifted his head and sniffed. A low growl emanated from his throat.
"What is it, Riyu?" Cael demanded as he surged through the snow.
Niko joined them and raised his head as well. "It's her. I smell her. Much stronger now. She isn't far."
Cael inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as the sweet smell of his mate drifted through his nostrils. Longing, regret, so much sadness swelled within him.
He shoved past Riyu and Niko, increasing his speed up the mountain slope. Her smell grew stronger, and his body tingled with the anticipation of seeing her, even as his palms sweated in the frigid air at the thought of what he would say to her. How he would gain her forgiveness.
Then he stopped. Riyu nearly ran into him from behind. A low sob carried to them on the wind. Cael looked in the direction of the sound, and there he saw her. Poised on the edge of a drop off. Heather.
She took a step closer and stared down into the abyss. Terror clutched at Cael's chest. Beside him, Riyu hissed in fear. She was going to fall.
Oh God. They'd never get to her in time.
In a flash, Cael transformed, lunging forward in the snow. He dug into the terrain, running as fast as his wolf shape would allow. Behind him, Riyu and Niko shifted and set out for Heather as well.
No! He couldn't lose her again.
Just when he thought she would step off the edge, she crumbled into the snow and lay still. His heart raced with relief, but still he flew the remaining distance, his need to touch her, to hold her, to reassure himself that she was okay was all consuming.
He reached her just seconds before Riyu and Niko. He gently nudged her with his snout, but she was unconscious. He nuzzled her cheek and licked at her skin, trying to get her to awaken.
She was burning up with fever.
Cael shifted then stared down at his mate. Tears stung his eyelids, threatening to unman him completely. She was so fragile looking. Pale, thin, so breakable. And she wasn't well.
"Is she alive?" Riyu asked in a rush of fear.
Cael nodded grimly. "She won't be for long if we don't get her out of the cold. She's burning up with fever."
"There's a cabin in the distance," Niko said pointing. "It could be where she's been staying."
Cael picked his precious bundle from the snow and hefted her into his arms. She had always been a tiny thing, but her lightness, even amidst the furs she wore, was alarming.
He pressed his lips to her hot forehead and closed his eyes as he followed Niko toward the cabin. I love you, my heart. I'm so very sorry for how I have wronged you. Please come back to me. I cannot live without you.
Riyu fell in beside him, looking anxiously over Heather's unconscious form. He reached out a hand to touch her cheek, and Cael could see tears in his brother's eyes.
"We failed her," Riyu croaked. "When she needed us the most, we turned our backs. How are we ever supposed to get past something like that?"
Cael shook his head grimly. He didn't have the words to offer comfort to his brother. Not when their mate was without.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Mainstream
Mystery/Suspense
Non-Fiction
Paranormal
Red Hots!
Romance
Science Fiction
Western
Young Adult

