Falling Like Snowflakes (29 page)

Kate's laughter was still ringing out when Zac brought her upright, embracing her in those gorilla arms of his.

Beau gave him a shove. “All right, that's enough,” he said in a tone that didn't quite reach playful.

Zac cuffed him on the back of the head, his eyes twinkling.

After they'd stuffed themselves on cinnamon rolls, Aunt Trudy shooed them outdoors. They rode the snowmobiles for a couple hours, laying new tracks in the freshly fallen snow. They took it slow, Kate driving Riley's sled and Jack riding behind Beau, wearing his old helmet. He thought about Kate a lot as the machine cut through the pine forest, its high-pitched whine echoing off the hills.

He thought of their kiss—had it really been two days ago? The image of Zac's kiss barreled into his mind. When everyone had filtered into the dining room for cinnamon rolls, Beau had confiscated the mistletoe. If anyone was getting another kiss from Kate, it was going to be him.

After sledding they hung out around the house, talking and laughing. Zac did his imitation of the Christmas tree shaker, and Eden laughed so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes. The sheriff stopped by later in the evening, much to Aunt Trudy's dismay.

Beau followed him out to his patrol car when he left, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets to keep them warm. Their boots
crunched on the shoveled walk as they left the golden puddle of the porch light. The sun had gone behind the hills, and the western sky was swathed in deep purple hues.

“Got any news for me?” Beau asked when they'd cleared the house.

Sheriff Colton turned at his car, popping a mint into his mouth and offering one to Beau.

“My contact, Oakley, wanted to meet with Kate. I told him no, and he wasn't happy. She's wanted for questioning in the murder of Marshals Walter and Brown. Needless to say, Marshal Langley told a different story from Kate's—Eden's.”

“She's not going anywhere. It would be suicide, and you know it. They'd no sooner have her in their custody than the moles would find a way to—”

Colton held up a palm. “It's what I told him. He agreed to speak to Chief Deputy Chambers about putting surveillance in place for Marshal Langley and Deputy Morris. Needless to say, Chambers is going to be resistant. These are his men, and he trusts them.”

“Well, two of his marshals turned up with slits in their throats. Does he really think his witness is the culprit? An innocent young mother who's been traumatized?”

“I know, I know. Good news is Chambers trusts Oakley. They go way back, so don't lose hope.”

Beau palmed the back of his neck. “I wish I could do something.” He'd gladly speak to Chief Deputy Chambers on Kate's behalf, but doing so would only lead them right to Summer Harbor.

“When's Oakley talking to the chief?”

“Tomorrow. Say your prayers.”

“I'll do that.”

He was distracted when he entered the house a few minutes
later, his mind full of worry and dread. He bypassed the noisy dining room where a game of Uno was under way and went upstairs. He needed a few minutes to regroup.

The light was on in Kate's room, and he paused at her doorway watching as Kate set a suitcase on the bed.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped, then wilted, palming her chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. What's with the suitcase?”

The latch clicked as her fingers sprung it free. “It's almost time for us to go.”

“Aunt Trudy's still on crutches.”

“Only for a couple more days. Besides, you're here all day now. You don't need me around.”

“I'm only here to keep you safe.”

“Exactly. The sooner I go, the sooner you can get back to work, and the sooner everything will return to the way it was.”

He covered the distance between them in two steps. “Nothing will ever be the way it was, Kate.”

She turned to grab a stack of T-shirts from a laundry basket. “Of course it will be,” she said calmly.

But her hands were shaking, and she tucked her hair behind her ear in that nervous gesture of hers.

He grabbed her hand. She was a breath away, her eyes on the floor between them, her hair falling forward again. The sweet citrusy scent of her had become as familiar as the tangy scent of the ocean. He pushed her hair behind her ear, the silky softness teasing the pads of his fingers.

“I don't want you to go, Kate.”

“You know I can't stay.”

He nudged her chin upward until her eyes met his. Those
eyes, filled with tragedy and strength. She thought she had to do this all alone. He loved her enough to see it through. He'd lay down his life for her—he knew that with every cell in his body.

But he knew her too. He knew his declaration wouldn't be welcome, just as his kiss had not been. And still, he needed her to stay long enough for the feds to do some surveillance. Long enough for them to uncover the moles. Everything would be different then. She wouldn't have to fear for their lives, wouldn't have to look over her shoulder, wouldn't have to run off to some cabin in the woods.

“Just for a little while,” he said. “If Oakley had tipped off the moles, they'd have been here by now. I'd feel a lot better if you stayed till the trial's over.”

A couple weeks, maybe. Not nearly enough time.

“We won't be safe even then. I know who they are. They're not going to let that go. Not ever.”

“Till New Year's then.”

He saw the refusal in her eyes and pulled the mom card. “Stay here where it's warm and safe. Jack likes it here, and he's doing so well. He'll love our New Year's celebration. We have a countdown in the town square, and we drop a lobster. After midnight we light fireworks off a barge in the harbor. It's a lot of fun. You don't want to miss it.”

The clock ticked on the nightstand behind her, marking time. Beau's thumb swept over her jaw. He was so persuasive. Not his words so much as his touch, his presence. All reasons she should shove their belongings in the suitcase and head out the door.

And yet . . .

“I don't know . . .” She couldn't think when he caressed her face so gently. All her rational thoughts scattered like flurries on the wind.

“Next week we can go snowmobiling again. You know Jack loved it. And we'll take him sledding on Mulligan's Hill—that's where we sledded as kids. We'll just hang out, have fun. He deserves a little fun. You both do. Come on, what do you say?”

She remembered Jack's words in bed the night before. He loved it here. It had become a temporary home, these people his temporary family. He needed security right now, normalcy. And the Callahans had provided it in spades. Would a few more days really hurt? The cabin wasn't going anywhere.

“I'm not ready for you to go.” His voice was thick and smoky.

She fell headlong into his onyx eyes, and her heart wavered at the wistful look there. Her heart, her mind, her body. His nearness made her insides hum, made her breath catch in her throat. His spicy scent filled her nostrils, and she drew in a deep breath of him.

He cupped her face, his eyes mingling with hers. “Stay,” he whispered. “Please.”

She could deny him nothing when he looked at her that way. When he spoke to her that way. They'd stay for a week. Just one more week. What would it hurt?

“Just till New Year's.”

His lips turned up a fraction of an inch. She'd missed those lips. Had it been only two days? It seemed forever since she'd been in his arms. She leaned closer. She shouldn't, she knew that. But her body, her heart, knew something different.

His lips brushed hers, softly. Slowly. Just once. Not nearly enough. Her heart pounded against her ribs as he drew away.

His thumb stroked over her lip, a poor substitute. His restraint showed on his face. He was being smart. Not pushing his luck. After all, she'd said this was a bad idea, and now she was kissing him again. But she couldn't seem to get her head and heart on the same page.

Would it be so awful to enjoy this while it lasted? How attached could she get in a mere seven days? It would be a good memory to take with her, something to keep her warm during the lonely winter nights.

Chapter 32

T
hey slipped into a comfortable routine over the next few days. Aunt Trudy got her brace off on Monday, and they celebrated at the Roadhouse over a seafood platter.

Micah stayed busy with his new art set and tools. In the afternoons they took out the snowmobiles. Eden wasn't jumping hills or doing fancy tricks, but she was getting pretty adept at handling the machine.

Beau showed Micah all the places where he and his brothers had played in the woods—a spot where they'd once had a tree house, a cave they used to play in. It was on the side of a hill, beneath a rock ledge, the opening so small only Micah could squeeze through. Inside he found an old Hot Wheels car that had once belonged to one of the brothers.

Eden checked the computer regularly for updates on the trial, but it seemed to be on hold for the holidays. She waited, praying Fattore would soon be behind bars.

The end of the day had become her favorite time. They had a fire each night, and after Micah and Miss Trudy turned in, she and Beau continued their classic Christmas movie routine. Even
though the holiday was over, it still felt like Christmas with the twinkle lights and the scent of pine in the air. She was reluctant to let go of the season.

Beau claimed the middle of the sofa, his thigh pressing against hers, his warmth seeping through her jeans. With the lights out and the house quiet, the rest of the world seemed to melt away.

He held her hand sometimes or put his arm around her, and every now and then, he'd lean close and brush her lips with his. Her heart would lurch in her chest, and her palm would find the scruff of his jaw. It was always over too quickly. He seemed to be practicing restraint, and Eden knew that was only wise. Already her heart was aching over the thought of leaving him. Of leaving the Callahans and Summer Harbor.

But late at night when she lay in bed, she'd remember how it felt to be trapped in her marriage to Antonio, trapped by her own uncertainty and fear, the walls closing in under the tight fist of his control. She remembered how it felt to walk on eggshells, every decision based on what he'd think and what he'd do. She remembered how it felt to question her own thinking, her own sanity.

And she remembered Karen's cabin that waited up north. She'd seen the place in her mind's eye a thousand times. She imagined herself and Micah, finally free and independent and able to move and breathe. Her soul gave a deep sigh at the image.

In the winters they'd have a crackling fire each night. They'd curl up in a homemade quilt while they sipped hot cocoa and talked about his school day.

The warm months would beckon them outside to bask in the warm sunlight. They'd take the canoe onto the lake, breathe in the fresh air as the water rippled quietly past.

She could almost hear the high-pitched call of the kittiwake
and see the broad, scalloped wings of an osprey soaring on a backdrop of blue. She could see the colorful tulips in Karen's garden, ushering in spring, their long, elegant stems pushing from the ground, their velvety petals unfurling.

She'd go to the grocery whenever she liked, to the library, or take a walk just because she wanted to. She'd buy clothes in every shade of the rainbow and read whatever she liked. She'd make her own money and spend it however she darn well pleased. She'd make her own choices, her own decisions, and no one would tell her what to do or when to do it.

Leaving Beau would be hard. But she would never give her soul to another man again, not even him.

New Year's Eve seemed to sneak up on her. A little before ten that night Eden, Beau, and Micah bundled up in their winter gear and piled into Beau's truck. Miss Trudy's friends had picked her up earlier. They found a parking space at the library and walked to the town square. Darkness had long since fallen, but the town was still lit with Christmas lights and the quaint streetlamps Eden had come to love.

The square was filled with booths selling hot cocoa, sugary treats, and New Year's Eve paraphernalia. Eden bought Micah a glow-in-the-dark necklace, skipping the annoying party horns, but it seemed half the kids on the square already had them. A local band played “American Kids,” and people near the stage danced to the jiggy beat.

The crowd was loud and crushing, but Beau had slipped his hand into hers shortly after their arrival and hadn't let go. They met up with Zac just before midnight and stood amid the energized crowd, shoulder to shoulder as the clock moved closer to midnight.

On the outskirts of the square someone let off a series of firecrackers. Micah pressed into her leg, and she slipped her arm around his shoulder. She'd warned him about the noise before coming, but talking about it and experiencing it were two different things.