Читать книгу The Complete Christmas Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 92

HOPE packed away the elf costume and changed back into her jeans and a fuzzy sweater with pockets. She tucked Blake’s present inside one, running her fingers over the foil wrapping and soft ribbon. Her lips still tingled from kissing his cheek, and the fake beard had been soft, not scratchy as she’d said.

The whole day had been disturbingly perfect—a word she didn’t use often. But there wasn’t another word to describe the way she was feeling. Happy. Complete. Wonderful.

Perfect.

The only thing marring the perfection was knowing it was going to be over and tomorrow she’d be saying goodbye.

Anna was putting on her coat when Hope wandered back to the kitchen.

“I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” Anna asked. “To see you off?”

“I don’t leave until eleven,” Hope assured her, a heavy feeling settling in her stomach.

She really was leaving here tomorrow. On the one hand she was actually looking forward to seeing Gram and her sisters...and, if she were being honest, even her mom and dad, if what Faith said about them getting along was true. But on the other hand, she was going to be sad to leave. Only a little over a week ago she’d been determined to find a hotel and stay somewhere else. Now it was hard to imagine spending Christmas anywhere else.

As Anna’s car pulled out of the drive Blake came back in. It felt odd somehow, intimate, and with a layer of tension that was unexpected just by being alone together. He had his outdoor gear on again, and she wondered if he had late-night chores that needed doing.

“Bundle up,” he suggested, standing in the doorway. “Night’s not over yet.”

A strange sort of twirling started through her tummy as his gaze seemed to bore straight through to the heart of her. “It’s not?”

“Not by a long shot. I have something to show you. I hope. Meet me outside in five minutes?”

She nodded. It was their last night. She couldn’t imagine not going along with whatever he had planned.

When Hope stepped outside first she heard the bells. Once down the steps and past the snowbank she saw that Blake had hitched the horses to the sleigh again. It was dark, but the sliver of moon cast an ethereal glow on the snow and the stars twinkled in the inky sky. A moonlight sleigh ride. She’d guessed there was something of the romantic in him, but this went beyond her imagining.

The practical side of her cautioned her to be careful. But the other side...the side that craved warmth and romance and intimacy...the side that she’d packaged carefully away years ago so as to protect it...urged her to get inside the sleigh and take advantage of every last bit of holiday romance she could. It was fleeting, after all. And too good to miss.

Blake sat on the bench in the driver’s seat, reins in his left hand while he held out his right. “Come with me?”

She gripped his hand and stepped up and onto the seat. He’d placed a blanket on the wood this time, a cushion against the hard surface. A basket sat in between their feet.

Blake smiled. “Ready?”

Ready for what? She knew he meant the ride, but right now the word seemed to ask so much more. She nodded, half exhilarated, half terrified, as he drove them out of the barnyard and on a different route—back to the pasture where they’d first taken the snowmobile. The bells called out in rhythm with the hoofbeats, the sound keeping them company in the quiet night.

Neither said anything until they reached the ridge several minutes later. The foothills rolled in shadow, a palette of grays and blacks that curled up next to the mountains. Blake hooked the reins and reached down for the basket.

“We didn’t have a proper dinner, but if you can stand a few more cookies I can.” He opened a container with an assortment of sweets, and then took out two mugs and a Thermos. “And hot chocolate with a little extra something.”

He poured her a cup and handed it over, steam curling into the air with the rich scent of creamy chocolate. She took the cup in both hands, leaving her mitts on. At the first sip she grinned—he’d laced it with Irish Cream.

“Delicious,” she said, peeling off a mitten and reaching for a cookie. “And proper dinner is overrated anyway.”

The heat of the chocolate and the buttery richness of the cookies soon had her feeling warm and lazy, and she leaned back against Blake’s shoulder, looking up at the sky.

“The sky is so big here,” she whispered, staring at the carpet of stars. “Do you know that in Australia I don’t see the Big Dipper?” She angled her head so she was looking at his profile. “It’s like we don’t even see the same sky, Blake.”

The thought made her feel disconnected and lonely. It would have been nice to go home and at least think that maybe they were looking at the same thing, even though they were miles apart. But it was a foolish, romantic notion. The time difference didn’t even add up. It was the kind of thing Hope the romantic would have thought of when she was fifteen. Not the realistic Hope at thirty.

They sat in silence for a long time, gazing at the stars, sipping their chocolate, until Blake pointed toward the north horizon. “Well, you won’t see this in Australia,” he said, his voice holding a note of excitement. “Hope—look.”

She followed his finger and stared at the sky. “What am I looking at?”

“Give it another second...there. See it?”

The sky somehow shifted before her eyes. There was a swirling and a wash of white, like spilled milk, that suddenly caught edges of green and hints of yellow.

She sat up straight in the sleigh and stared. “Oh, wow! That’s the northern lights, isn’t it?”

“I hoped—with the moon not so full tonight and it being so clear and cold. You can’t always see them this far south. Up north, around Fort McMurray, they’re amazing. Bigger, more colors.”

“Oh, but this is amazing, too, Blake. Look at that.”

It was like the ripples of a blanket, all curves and shifts and soft hues. She was suddenly overwhelmed by it all—the sleigh, the picnic, the stars. It was like Blake was bewitched, able to take all the elements of a perfect winter night and hold them in the palm of his hand, releasing each one like a wish at his command. Even the Aurora Borealis. How did she stand a chance against such a man?

“I wish you didn’t have to go tomorrow,” he said, his voice low in his chest. “I wish you could stay for Christmas. Meet my parents. Have eggnog in your coffee Christmas morning and eat bacon and waffles and unwrap presents in your pajamas.”

“It sounds lovely,” she said wistfully, reluctantly drawing her gaze away from nature’s display. “But I promised Gram. And I need to see my family. I didn’t realize how much until I came here.”

“So your grandmother’s plan did work?” he commented, sipping his chocolate, which she now figured had to be cold because they’d stargazed so long.

“Gram’s always known me better than everyone else. When I told you today that I gave up trying...I’d been burning the candle at both ends and I blew my exams. I lost a big scholarship and at eighteen—well, it felt like my life was over. Gram was there for that. She was the one who stepped in and made it right. It was the lowest I ever remember being until...”

“Until Julie died?”

“Yes.” She breathed out the word with relief. “Julie was the first person I’d trusted in a long time. We were like sisters only without all the drama.” She gave a small smile. “Losing her was...”

They watched the lights a little longer, until Blake interrupted the silence, carrying on with her last thought as if there’d never been a break in the conversation.

“Only you didn’t really grieve. Which is why you reacted the way you did when you saw me.”

“You know it is.” She finished the last mouthful of lukewarm chocolate and tucked her mug back into the basket. “But, Blake, I stopped thinking about your scar after the first few days. It’s not all there is to you. I know that. You’re so much more. You’re...” She stopped before she could say everything.

“Maybe you’re more than your scars, too, Hope. Have you considered that?”

She swallowed thickly. “Of course I’ve considered it.”

“But you’re afraid?”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

They sat in silence for a few more moments.

“I think I need to start doing that, Blake. Grieving for Julie, I mean. She came from a messed-up family, too. She respected that there was stuff I just didn’t talk about. She didn’t expect anything of me, which was a revelation. I let myself rely on her, and then she was gone.”

Really gone. No second chances, forever gone.

The stars blurred and the lights disappeared as she blinked rapidly. “After the funeral I had to go home and pack up her things. I had to meet with her mother and send everything back. I had to go home to an empty apartment every night. I missed her.” She swiped her hand over her face. “I do miss her. And I’m angry.”

Blake put his arm around her and held her close against his side. “Angry with her for leaving?”

“Of course! That’s what people do, Blake. They teach you to love them and count on them and then they leave. It’s not worth it.”

“Of course it is. It just hurts. It hurts when I think of Brad, but I can’t imagine not having those years with him, not having those memories. Not everyone leaves, Hope. You’ve just had more than your share.”

“The last week or so has been good for me,” she admitted. “But it’s a small bit of time. Temporary. It’s not really my life. I needed it, yes. But now I have to figure out what comes next. Some of that is reconnecting with my family.”

“And after that?”

“I don’t know.”

She really didn’t. She had her job and her apartment in Sydney, but the thought of it seemed empty and lonely now. There would be no Gram. No Blake. No one who really mattered.

He took her mittened hands in his. “Come back.”

“What?” Her gaze darted to his and she found his eyes dark and utterly earnest.

“Come back. I don’t have all the answers, but I don’t want tomorrow to be goodbye forever. There’s something between us, Hope. I know you’ve felt it, too.”

“Well, of course I felt it. But like I said, it’s temporary.”

“Why should it have to be?” He turned in the seat and gripped her wrists. “I’ve seen you with the kids, I’ve seen the way you light up. I know you’ve had a hard time of it and you’re cautious. Don’t you think I understand? This quest for perfection...it’s what you rely on. You don’t want to be disappointed. I get it. And I also know how I feel when you’re around, Hope. I light up. I haven’t felt this way in a really long time.”

“It’s just Christmas. People get all weird and sentimental at the holidays,” she answered, but her voice felt tight and choked in her throat.

The worst of it was she suspected he really did get it. And she wanted to believe him. Wanted it so badly because it meant she wouldn’t be alone.

“It’s not just Christmas,” he contradicted.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, the thick knit of their caps touching. He kissed the tip of her nose before dipping lower and kissing her lips gently, sweetly, so perfectly that she half expected Christmas angels to start singing right above the northern lights. She allowed herself a taste of him...chocolate and the nip of whiskey cream, and butter and a man. A delicious combination that was tough to resist. The problem was that Blake was perfect. And for the first time in her life she didn’t trust perfection.

“Be reasonable,” she said, pulling away from the kiss, running her tongue over her lips for one last tantalizing taste. “We’ve only known each other ten days, Blake.”

“I know, and that’s why I want you to come back. So we can figure this out.”

She shook her head, feeling the beginnings of panic settling in, cramping her chest, making it hard to breathe in the frigid air. “My job is in Sydney. My apartment is there. My life is there. I can’t just pick up and leave when I want. I have obligations.”

“Another few weeks,” he suggested. “You never vacation. You must have time coming to you.”

“And then what?” she asked, sliding away, putting inches between them.

He was going to make her say it, make it difficult, wasn’t he?

“I leave after a few more weeks and it’s even harder to say goodbye? It wouldn’t work, Blake. You’ve built something amazing here. The program is your life and it’s important. You can’t just pick up and leave either. You belong here. And I’m not crazy enough to pack up and leave my life behind after ten days of...whatever it’s been, with no guarantees.”

“And you need guarantees?” he said coldly.

“You know I do. Come on, Blake. What happens to me if suddenly it doesn’t work out? How can I give up the little security I’ve built? And what would I do? No home, no job...” She lowered her voice, leaving out the most important word...alone. “I’m not resilient enough for that.”

“Then...” He lifted his chin. “People do the long-distance thing every day.”

Her heart sank. This was not how she’d wanted things to go. She’d wanted to leave smiling and with fond memories, not with hurt feelings and...well, broken dreams seemed a little dramatic, but it was certainly feeling that way at this moment.

“Be realistic, Blake. Canada to Australia? Long distance aside, how often would we see each other? Do you know the cost of flights between Calgary and Sydney?”

“You’re not even willing to try,” he accused, sitting back against the seat of the sleigh. “You’re going to leave tomorrow and write me off, the way you write off everyone who disappoints you!”

“That’s not true,” she defended. “I don’t write people off. They write me off.” She was getting angry now, was tired of always being made to feel like she was the one lacking. “I didn’t kill Julie, and I sure as hell didn’t ask my parents to split up and drag us from pillar to post so that we never really knew what home was. I’m the one who tried to keep the family together, and instead we ended up scattered all over the damn globe. That’s not my fault!”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And now you know it, too.”

Silence settled uncomfortably as Hope sat there, feeling worn-out and, worse, played.

“I told you in the beginning that I didn’t need to be fixed.” Her voice was low and held a distinct warning. “I’m not one of your clients, Blake. I didn’t come here to be psychoanalyzed. You said you were a rancher with an ear, but that’s not true. You’re a fixer.”

“That’s unfair—” he started, but Hope held up a hand.

“You fix people. That’s what you do. You need to be needed. You see someone hurt and you make them better. You find someone troubled and you give them the answers—the kids that come here and even Anna.”

“Anna?”

“She needed money and you gave her a job. She told me things about herself—about how she lost her husband when she was so young and brought up John on her own. And Blake swooped in to the rescue, right?”

“When did helping people become a flaw?” he defended.

“Why do you suppose you try to fix everyone? Does it have anything to do with not being able to save your brother?”

He couldn’t have looked more shocked if she’d slapped him and she instantly felt sorry for the words. Losing his brother had been devastating; she knew that.

She sighed. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“No, you’re right. I couldn’t save Brad. But I can help others rather than letting the accident and my loss cripple me.”

She understood the implication, even agreed with it. In his grief he’d found a way to reach out. She’d found a way to withdraw and protect herself.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Oh, Blake. What happens when I’m all fixed? Will you be done with me then? Or what happens when you figure out that you can’t fix me? Do you give up and walk away?”

“It wouldn’t be like that.”

But he couldn’t know that, and they both knew it.

“Why haven’t you ever married, Blake? It’s clear you’d make a great father, so what’s holding you back?”

He looked nonplussed, sitting back against the seat of the sleigh and staring at her with wide eyes. “What do you mean? I suppose I haven’t found the right person.”

“And will you ever? Face it, Blake. You’re married to the program and those kids are your children. You get to fix them and send them on their way. Yes, you get close to them—but not too close, right? Because then you don’t have to be afraid of losing them the way you lost your brother.”

He looked so shocked she knew she’d gotten it right. She lowered her voice. “You made them your family so you don’t have to take a risk on your own, didn’t you? So how can you ask me to take a risk on you if you’re not capable of doing the same?”

“Hope...” he said hoarsely. But that was all.

He had no rebutting argument. Hope felt relieved that the truth was out, but horrible that she hadn’t been kinder with it. Blake deserved better.

If they’d been back at the house she would have made her apologies and left it at that. She would have walked away before they could hurt each other further. But where could she go here? She was stuck in his sleigh in the middle of nowhere. What would she do? Walk home? In the dark?

She pulled away and stared stubbornly at her boots. “I think we should go back now.”

“So you can run away again?”

“Maybe I’m running to something this time.”

He sighed and studied his hands. “I’m not saying you’re wrong,” he admitted. “Hope, despite everything we’ve said to each other, everything that’s happened, you must know I care about you.”

He looked up and met her gaze, so earnest and artless her heart turned over a little bit.

“I know you’re hurting. Tonight when I looked at you I could tell that you wanted to belong so very badly. You do, Hope. More than you know. You do belong.”

They’d argued and struck nerves and he still managed to see past it. The truth was he could never know how badly she wanted to stay. To see where things might go between them. And perhaps if she didn’t live half a world away she would try it.

But her job was there—a good job—and it would be foolish to throw her career away for a maybe. Her mother chased those sorts of rainbows. Hope didn’t. She knew how awful the thud could be at the end. She wasn’t sure she could bounce back one more time.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice raw. “I’m sorry, Blake.”

He looked at her for one long moment before picking up the reins and giving the team a slap. The sleigh lurched forward and Hope hugged her arms around herself. The wind picked up and the cold seeped through her coat and mittens.

It seemed to take forever to get back to the house. Blake halted the horses and Hope jumped out, grabbing the basket and taking it with her.

“I’ve got to look after the team,” Blake said.

“Good night,” she answered. “Thank you for the ride.”

It was paltry and it rang a little false. The first part had been magical and then it had all fallen apart.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he replied, and with a hup he had the sleigh moving again toward the barn.

Morning. As Hope turned toward the house she felt the first cold tear slip down her cheek. On one hand her leaving seemed too soon, but on the other she wanted it over with. Maybe then she could stop hurting. Because what Blake didn’t understand was how badly she’d wanted to say yes. How much she’d wanted to be able to trust blindly and take a leap.

She was falling in love with him—perhaps had been from the start. And he’d offered her no guarantees because there were none.

She wouldn’t have believed him even if he had, because deep down they both knew guarantees didn’t exist.