A Holiday to Remember (4 page)

“I don’t like fairy tales.” Selena began rubbing lotion into her hands and arms.

“Are they vampires?” The one with pigtails clutched a pink stuffed rabbit. “I like vampire stories.”

“No, not vampires.” He rolled his eyes. “And not zombies, either. Or demons or whatever other unnatural, unreal creatures you pretend stalk the earth.” Bloodsucking sounded tame compared to some of the horrors he’d seen humans perpetrate on their own kind. “Just a boy and a girl.”

“So what’s the big deal?”

He hadn’t expected this to be such a hard sell. “Well, they
grew up together. Had lots of adventures. Fell in love.” More derisive sound effects. “Then he killed her.”

The girls gasped. Chris glanced at the headmistress, saw her sitting upright, motionless, staring at him. Good. He’d gotten her attention.

The redhead broke the silence. “Why’d he do that? How?”

“That’s part of the story. If you want to hear it, you have to settle down.”

Mumbling and grumbling ensued, as the seven girls tucked and rolled themselves into their makeshift beds on the plush Persian carpet near the fire. Chris shifted a little in his chair, trying to get comfortable; between bruises and scrapes and a pulled shoulder, every inch of his body hurt in one way or another. He could hardly wait to lie down, even on a bare floor.

First, though, he would tell his story.
Their
story. The Juliet he knew couldn’t hold out against the truth spoken aloud. This Jayne mask she was wearing would crack at some point as she relived their time together. Then he would corner her, in front of seven witnesses, if necessary, and get the answers he needed.

“So,” he began, “they met the first time when they were thirteen years old.”

The pink rabbit person popped her head up. “What were their names?”

“Juliet,” he said. The headmistress narrowed her eyes, and he thought for a second she would stop him from telling the story.

When she didn’t say anything, he looked at the girls again.

“Juliet and…” Yolanda prompted.

“And…” What name could he use for himself? What would impress these girls?

“Romeo?” Monique snorted. “That’s so lame.”

“Nobody’s named Romeo these days,” Selena added. “Except dogs.”

“Chase,” Chris decided. “Juliet and Chase.” He thought it sounded like a soap opera couple. But when no protest greeted the announcement, he continued. “It was three days before Christmas….”

His grandfather had sent him to the general store for nails to fix a fence. Chase thought he’d get a bag of chips and a soda with the change from the ten dollar bill Granddad had given him.

Juliet was just wasting time, prowling the store aisles because she was tired of sitting around at her grandmother’s house, pretending to read.

It was just her bad luck that Chase glanced over as she dropped the candy bar in her coat pocket. Juliet didn’t even realize she’d been caught until he spoke into her ear from behind, “Gotcha!”

She jumped and looked around to see if anybody had heard him. “Shut up!” she hissed. “Keep your mouth closed and I’ll give you half.”

He shook his head. “Shoplifting’s a crime.”

“Like he’ll even notice it’s gone.” She nodded toward the man at the counter, who just happened to be a good friend of Chase’s granddad.

“Why don’t you just buy it?” She was pretty, which accounted for what he said next. “I’ll buy it for you.”

“That’s no fun.” She turned and started walking toward the door, pretending to look at the dish towels and pots on the shelves.

Chase watched her go, arguing with himself even while he noticed her long reddish hair shine in the light coming through the high windows. On the one hand, he should tell the store manager. That was the right thing to do. Only
problem was, he’d look like a wuss and she’d hate him forever. At thirteen, he wasn’t sure which was worse.

While he was still debating, Juliet slipped out the door without a glance in the manager’s direction. He didn’t even notice her. She’d gotten away with stealing.

When Chase brought his nails and chips and soda to the counter, he found himself talking to Mr. Fletcher, the manager, who’d known him since he was about three years old. And he started feeling guilty for letting the girl get away with her crime. A thirty-five cent candy bar was no big deal. Still, Mr. Fletcher was a nice guy.

At the last minute, he said, “I almost forgot—I bought that girl a candy bar. A Snickers. Add that in.”

He left feeling more like Galahad than that Quisling guy they’d talked about in school.

Once out on the sidewalk, he looked around and saw her slouched on a bench just up the street, slowly eating the candy bar. Chase went to sit beside her, opened his chips and took a swig of his drink. But he didn’t say anything.

Finally, she said, “You bought it, didn’t you?”

He just nodded, pretending to finish chewing a chip.

“Wuss,” she told him.

From the floor in front of the fireplace, the seven Hawkridge girls groaned.

Chris grinned. “You can’t win when it comes to girls.”

Monique snorted. “Get on with the story.” She glanced at the headmistress’s disapproving face. “Please.”

“Right. So then…”

She gave a sideways glance. “What do you do around here for fun, anyway?”

“Besides shoplifting?”

Juliet jabbed him in the side with her elbow.

“There’s plenty to do in the snow.” He glanced up at the sky—it had been a warm winter and they were only wearing sweaters. “Not much if there’s no snow.”

She sighed and raised her arms in the air. “Why am I here? What possible point is there to Christmas in this hick town?”

He finished his chips, balled the bag and tossed it toward the trash can, praying for a basket. But the bag bounced off the rim and fell on the sidewalk. Feeling his ears heat up, he retrieved the trash and dropped it in the container.

As he sat down again, though, he managed to casually turn his body toward her and prop his elbow on the back of the seat. In a few minutes he would stretch out his arm behind her shoulders. If he was really lucky, some of that shiny red-brown hair would brush his hand.

“I’m Chase,” he told her.

“Juliet.” She crushed the candy wrapper and pitched it at the trash can, where it landed without a sound.

“Are you from around here?” he asked, to distract from his hot, red cheeks.

“No way. I live in New York.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. If he’d had his arm stretched out, he could have caught some across his palm. “Manhattan, where there’s shopping and music, plays and people and a hundred things to do.”

“So why’d you come to the mountains?”

“My grandmother. She’s sick and she said she wanted to see me before she dies.” Juliet rolled her eyes. “She never wanted to see me before. I barely know the old bat, but I’m forced to spend a whole week trapped in the middle of nowhere.” Head bowed, the girl sat and sulked.

Chase took the chance to lay his arm across the back of the bench. “I’m here for the whole winter break. Got here on the twentieth and I’m stuck for three weeks.”

Finally, she seemed a little curious. “You’re not from here? Where do you live?”

“Philadelphia.”

“So you’re a prisoner, too.”

Chase shook his head. “Nah. In Philly I’m the prisoner. I get free when I come to visit my granddad.”

“Parental marriage issues?”

“Big time. At least here nobody’s fighting World War III. My granddad’s a pretty cool old guy.”

She tossed that hair again, but it missed his hand. “My parents basically live on different planets. My granddads both died before I was born and this is the first time I’ve met the grandmother here. The one in New York, my dad’s mother, is a first-class bitch.”

“You should meet my granddad. You’d like him.”

Juliet bounced off the bench to her feet. “Okay, let’s go.”

Chase stood up more slowly. “You want to go see him? Now?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I…” He couldn’t think of why not, except…“I only have one bike.”

“Cool,” she said. “‘You can ride me on the handlebars.”

And that’s what they did. Juliet sat in front of him and Chase pedaled for all he was worth. Going up the hills nearly killed him and he nearly killed her as they flew down the slopes. Good thing his granddad lived only three miles outside of town. Chase didn’t know if his heart would last any farther.

When he stopped at the end of the long dirt driveway, Juliet dropped off the front of the bike and looked around at his granddad’s place. “Beverly Hillbillies, anyone?”

He surveyed the junk-cluttered yard with a smile. “Yeah, Granddad likes to tinker with engines, and he’s not much on mowing grass or pulling weeds.” Chase stomped up the rickety steps to the front porch. “Inside’s better, ’cause he has a lady come clean every week. Except for his workshop, which is a danger zone all by itself.”

He held back the screen door and pushed the front door open. “Come on in.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” She stepped past him, brushing her shoulder against his chest and her hip against his legs.

Chase felt every cell in his body go on alert. He was a goner from that moment on.

Chris doubted any of the girls heard that last part. All of them appeared to have fallen asleep, which was exactly what he’d intended.

Jayne Thomas stirred in her chair. “That was quite an opening chapter.” He could barely see her in the near-dark, and her voice sounded calm. Had he not stirred a single memory? “Do you include ‘novelist’ on your résumé? ‘Storyteller,’ perhaps?”

“No. I get paid to tell the truth.”

She didn’t respond, and he knew he’d failed. At the same time, he realized how exhausted he was. “Anywhere in particular you want me to sleep?” He winced as he stood up. His muscles had petrified while he sat. “As far away from this room as possible, I assume.”

“Well…” Her hesitation told him she approved that sug
gestion. “This is the only working fireplace. The rest of the building will be very, very cold.”

Chris shrugged a shoulder—the wrong one, but he swallowed the groan. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve slept in colder places.” He looked at the fire, now reduced to glowing red embers. “I’ll put a couple of logs on and bring more in. But you’ll have to keep it stoked overnight, or you’ll all be freezing in the morning along with me.”

She still didn’t move. “Yes.”

When he brought the wood in from outside, Juliet—Jayne—was standing near the fireplace, in case he tried something with one of the girls, Chris guessed. After stacking the logs carefully on the hearth, he straightened up. “I’ll grab some blankets from the infirmary, if that’s okay. In fact, maybe I’ll just sack out on a bed in there.” He sent her a grin. “At this point, a mattress might be a better deal than mere heat.”

He thought he saw her smile. “That could be true.”

As he went to the door, the beam of her flashlight came up beside him, then went ahead of him out into the hallway. “The infirmary is on the second floor,” she said. “On the right.”

“I remember, more or less.” He started toward the double doors to the entry hall, surprised to find her walking beside him. “You were waiting for the girls to bring a stretcher down.”

“I thought you were unconscious all that time.”

“When I land in a good place, I stay there.”

The headmistress didn’t say anything to that.

Chris put his hand on the door panel, but shifted to face her before he pushed. Dim light reflected from the polished hardwood, revealing her face only in the contours of shadows. Round cheeks, delicate chin. Plump, full lips, parted slightly.

She was Juliet, he knew it. Maybe the way to convince her was…

He bent his head and touched his mouth to hers, brushed his lips across those curves, and pressed softly. She gave a small gasp and her taste flowed into him, a familiar honey. Twelve years of wanting clutched at his chest, his gut. Chris deepened the kiss, bringing up a hand to cup her shoulder.

And got a slap on the cheek that snapped his eyes wide open.

A huge knot of
something
—Jayne decided to call it anger—clogged her throat, preventing her from telling Chris Hammond what he could do with his kisses. So she jerked out of his hold and strode back toward the library, hoping his cheek hurt even half as much as her hand did after that slap.

Then she remembered the bruises and scrapes on his face from the accident and felt guilty for making them worse.

But he had no business doing
that,
she argued with herself as she put another log on the fire and then went to wrap up in a blanket on the empty couch. She couldn’t possibly have signaled that she was interested in any kind of physical contact, because she definitely was not.

Although,
a traitorous part of her whispered,
his mouth
was
delicious!
He tasted of coffee, with a dark edge that owed nothing to the brew she’d served. An exotic, enticing flavor she’d never encountered in all her history of kisses. Not that she’d kissed so many men. And most of them had been quite…safe.

Chris Hammond was anything but safe. He said he’d seen the birthmark on her hip, had even kissed it. The intimacy implied by such knowledge left her breathless. She refused to name the emotion that left her pulse pounding.

As for the idea that the mark identified her as this Juliet Radcliffe…

Surely other women had birthmarks on their left hips. Jayne’s grandmother had called hers a J, for their shared name. Or a fishing hook. The resemblance to Italy had never crossed Jayne’s mind. But then, she’d never had a lover who kissed it, either.

She fell asleep trying to determine how she would behave with Chris Hammond in the morning, and how soon she could send him back to town. The school owned several vehicles with four-wheel drive, so if the snow wasn’t too deep she would just lend him an SUV and ask him to leave it at the police station.

But when the first ray of sunlight wedged her lids apart, she doubted she’d be sending anyone anywhere for quite some time. Snow lay three feet deep, perhaps more, against the panes of the floor-to-ceiling French doors leading into the private garden. Beyond the surrounding stone wall lay a pure white carpet with no hint of shrubs, steps, driveway or landscape. At the edge of the surrounding forest, the branches of pine and cedar trees sagged under thick dollops of white frosting, and even the skeletons of the oaks and maples and beeches glistened with snow.

This morning, the phone did not work. They were completely snowed in until the weather warmed up or someone with a plow or a snowmobile came to get them. Jayne wasn’t sure which would happen first.

As more sparkling sunlight entered the room, the girls on the floor began to stir. Rubbing her eyes, Taryn stumbled to the nearest window and glanced out at the scenery.

“Awesome,” she cried. “Hey, guys, come look!”

In the next moment, they were all exclaiming over the snow.

“Cool!”

“I’ve never seen so much snow.”

“Let’s go outside!”

In unison they turned toward the door, but Jayne stood in their way. When she held up a hand, silence fell.

“Breakfast first,” she told them. “Before breakfast, you need to fold your bedding neatly and put it with your pillows across the hall in the conference room so we don’t have to step over them all day. Then you can go to your rooms to dress and bring back the jackets, hats, gloves and boots you’ll need to go outside. Understood?”

The seven girls nodded solemnly. But as soon as they left the conference room, they reverted to extreme excitement, dancing along the hallway toward the stairs, talking loudly and making wild plans for all the fun to be had in the snow.

After putting a pot of water for instant oatmeal over some of the coals in the fireplace, Jayne went to her office to change. A long and exhausting day awaited her, without a doubt. After the novelty wore off, some girls would want to be inside, some out. Without music, television and movies, the girls would be looking to her for entertainment. The puzzles and games she’d bought wouldn’t be nearly enough. She had not, Jayne was dismayed to admit, planned for this many girls. She hadn’t planned for a blizzard.

And she certainly hadn’t planned on Chris Hammond, who was stuck here just as surely as the rest of them for the foreseeable future.

“Good morning.” He was leaning on the second-story rail as she entered the entry hall from the office wing. “Looks like we’re snowed in.”

“Good morning. Yes, I don’t think there’s much chance of driving out of here until the snow melts.” The memory of last
night’s kiss flooded her mind, urging her to cut the conversation short.

Instead, though, she heard herself ask, “Did you sleep well?”

He started down the stairs. “Until a gaggle of girls stampeded past the infirmary a few minutes ago, screaming at the tops of their lungs.”

Jayne couldn’t make herself move until he reached the bottom step and joined her. “I’m insisting on breakfast first, so I’d better start cooking.”

“Does that mean there’s a chance of coffee?” Chris fell in step beside her.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She pushed open the door into the library wing and held it for him to come though after her. “You’re pretty stiff this morning.” Though why she should comment, let alone notice, was more than she could explain.

“I’ve felt worse.”

“While you were working?”

“A couple of times.”

“Taking pictures in the middle of a war seems foolhardy.” Jayne spooned instant coffee into two mugs. “But I suppose we need to know what’s going on.”

“Truth and consequences.” When she turned around, his gaze fixed immediately on her face. “Last night wasn’t my first vehicle crash, either.”

“Really?” She felt his eyes like pricks from a sword point as she walked into the library to ladle heated water into the mugs. “Does that mean you’re not a good driver?”

“I was a kid, the first time around.” He didn’t stop watching her as he took a long drink. “But it was a slick mountain road, just like last night.”

The long silence, and the pressure of his unswerving focus, broke Jayne’s nerve.

“Why are you staring at me?” she demanded. “Is there a problem, Mr. Hammond?”

“Call me Chris, for God’s sake.” He clanked his mug down on the library table. “As for problems—here’s the big one. I can’t believe—”

Taryn burst into the kitchen, pigtails flying. “Is there breakfast yet? I’m starved!” She caught sight of Chris. “Did you see how much snow we got? Isn’t it wild? I can’t wait to start sledding.”

Monique and Selena came in behind her, with the other girls on their heels, all of them nearly as excited as when they’d left to get dressed.

Thankful to have whatever he was about to say postponed, Jayne shifted her attention to food. “We’ve got oatmeal,” she announced, “orange juice, bananas, apples, sugar and butter.”

Haley flopped on the sofa. “I hate oatmeal.”

“I usually eat half a bagel,” Sarah added.

Jayne took a deep breath. “There is also cold cereal and milk, bagels and cream cheese.”

“But no toaster,” Monique pointed out.

“So toast over the fire,” Chris suggested. “All you need is a long, pointed stick.”

Jayne looked up at him from where she crouched by the fire. “There are toasting forks,” she told him. “In the main kitchen behind the dining hall. We use them as decorations on the wall.”

He gave her a two-fingered salute. “Be right back.”

In his absence, Jayne marshaled the girls into the kitchen to set the table for breakfast. As she ladled water for those who wanted oatmeal, Chris supervised the toasting process and produced enough warm, buttered bread for all of them to enjoy. The cleanup process was another group effort, made
more difficult by everyone’s eagerness to enjoy the snow. Everyone but Jayne.

Finally, with the kitchen tidied to her satisfaction, she gave the girls permission to go outside. “Stay near this building,” she told them from the front portico of the manor. “I’ll expect to see all of you when I get out there.”

She fetched her own boots, coat, hat and gloves from her office, and had her hand on the doorknob again when Chris joined her.

“You don’t exactly look enthusiastic.” He’d scavenged a bulky coat, wool cap and work gloves from the cleaning staff’s office.

“I hate snow,” she told him, opening the door to avoid being alone with him even for a moment. She didn’t want to give him a chance to finish that sentence he’d started earlier.

“Why?” His voice was casual, and when she glanced at him, he was watching the girls rolling barrel-style down the hills on the Hawkridge lawn. “Did you grow up in Michigan, with snow every winter, shoveling day in and day out?”

She started to remind him of the accusations he’d already made about her background, but realized at the last moment that he’d laid a very neat trap for her to fall into.

Well, she would spring that trap, without getting caught. “I grew up about fifty miles from here, in the mountains. We had snow there, though rarely this much.” She smiled when he frowned in her direction. “But I don’t know why I don’t enjoy it. I get cold very quickly. I worry about slipping and falling—I’ve got a slight weakness on my left side that makes me less stable if I’m not thinking.” She shrugged. “I’d rather be sitting on a warm beach in the sunshine than feel ice crystals sliding down my back and into my shoes.”

“You weren’t locked out in the cold, or fall down a long hill? No getting lost in the snowy woods?”

Fear fluttered in Jayne’s chest. “No. I don’t remember anything like that.” She wasn’t about to confess to this nosy stranger how few memories she had to draw on.

“So why did you take a job in the mountains?”

Since coming to Hawkridge School, she’d asked herself that question every autumn and all winter long. “I wanted to do the work here. These troubled girls need the kind of help I’ve been trained to offer.”

“They look fairly normal and happy to me.”

Jayne couldn’t help a chuckle as she surveyed the scene. Taryn and Haley were rolling down the hill, standing up at the bottom covered with huge chunks of snow. Then they climbed back up to do it again. Monique and Selena were making a large snowball, presumably the bottom of a snow person to pair with the one Sarah and Beth had already started. In a corner by herself, Yolanda was creating a host of snow angels.

“I’ve rarely seen all of them in a good mood at the same time,” Jayne said, surprised.

But even as she said it, the spell of enchantment broke. Monique stomped away from Selena and the lopsided snowball they’d formed, trudging over to join Sarah and Beth, who didn’t appear to welcome her intrusion. Halfway down the hill, Taryn collided with Haley, who sat up crying and rubbing her head.

“So much for peace on Earth,” Chris muttered, as Jayne started down the steps.

Halfway down, she wobbled, just a little. Then her feet slipped out from under her.

Chris launched himself forward and managed to get his hands under her arms just before she fell. With a heave that left his shoulder screaming bloody murder, he hauled her up
and back against him. For a few seconds he bore her full weight, and even through the layers of coats and clothes he could feel the curves of her body pressed into his.

Fuller,
he thought.
Lush. Mature.
Juliet had been a girl when he last held her, still bony, a little awkward. Now, though, she was completely a woman.

Or else this wasn’t Juliet at all.

He banished the traitorous thought as she straightened away from him. “Thanks,” she said breathlessly, with a glance over her shoulder. “That would have hurt.”

“No problem.” Forcing his arms to loosen, he took a deep breath. “You need a handrail on these steps.”

“The board of directors is at war with the local safety inspector on that very topic.” She hesitated, staring at the steps below them. “Historical integrity versus legal issues. We do have ramps at other doors.”

Taking her arm, Chris started down slowly, urging her to lean against him slightly. He expected resistance, but this time she gave in without a fight.

Once on the ground, though, she pulled free and sidestepped down the hill through the deep snow to kneel beside Haley, who was still crying.

“Are you hurt?” Jayne took off her gloves and wiped the girl’s tear-streaked cheeks with her fingertips. “Can you stand up?”

With her lower lip stuck out, Haley shook her head.

“She’s such a baby.” Taryn stood to the side, arms crossed over her chest. “I barely touched her.”

“She crashed into my head and ran over me.” Despite her “injuries,” Haley struggled to her feet. “On purpose.”

“Did not. It was an accident.” Taryn’s voice rose in volume.

The headmistress shuffled through churned up snow to stand between them. “The two of you need to calm down.”

Her words went unheeded. “You liar,” Haley growled. “You said you were gonna roll over me like a bulldozer.”

“I am not a liar.” Before the words were finished, Taryn launched herself at Haley and took her down into the snow, wrestling, punching and kicking. In an instant the rest of the girls circled around, calling encouragement to their favorite. Arguments started between opposing fans, leading to shoving and yelling. Chris headed down to break up the fight.

The loudest whistle he’d ever heard brought him up short. Total silence followed, and total stillness. Even the wind stopped, and the birds stayed quiet as he and the girls stared at the source of that sound—Jayne Thomas herself.

She stared at each of her students in their turn. “Inside,” she said, her voice stiff, cold, implacable. “Now.”

Turning, she marched up the hill without looking back. A single line of girls followed in her footsteps, silently, without arguing, around the side of the manor to the door Chris had used last night to check the generator. Jayne held the door open and the girls filed in.

“Jackets, hats, boots and gloves in the storeroom,” she ordered. “Then sit in the library, on the floor near the fire.”