Falling Like Snowflakes (4 page)

Just before Thanksgiving break?

They had no money for food. No place to stay tonight. And oh yeah. Someone wanted them dead.

Micah had set the books aside. He bounced Boo Bear on his lap, and she wondered what was going on inside his troubled mind. He looked at her then, and she saw worry in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Well . . . change of plans.” She injected some enthusiasm into her voice. “Looks like we're staying here awhile. Might be nice to stay by the sea, huh?”

She waited for a response, hoping. He just blinked, but the questions in his eyes remained.

“I'll get a job, and we'll hang out in this pretty little town for a bit. How's that sound?”

She'd start with the diner. Then, if they weren't hiring, she'd check the shops along Main Street. Micah would have to tag along as she inquired. It wasn't ideal, but it couldn't be helped. At least she looked presentable in her nice jeans and gray sweater.

There was another critical detail she needed to tackle first. She shifted on the chair. “Remember the game we've been playing? The one where your name is Adam and mine is Andrea?”

Micah nodded, his eyes lighting.

“Yes, I know, you're winning. But only by one point. And only because I was caught off guard.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

“You're very good at this game. And I want to keep playing, but I'd like to start over.”

He frowned, his brows drawing together.

She ruffled his hair and breathed a laugh. “Don't worry, you're still ahead by one point. But let's make it more challenging. We'll change our names again. But this time you can pick any name you want.”

She looked at him expectantly. Someday she'd ask a question and he'd answer her. Not today, though. He only stared back with an inscrutable expression.

“How about SpongeBob?” she asked, her face serious.

Micah's brows tightened, his eyes confused.

“No? What about Pinocchio?”

His nose crinkled up as he stared back.

“Oh, that's right, he had a lying problem, didn't he? And a big nose. Nothing at all like yours.” She tweaked his nose. “Well, there's always Ebenezer. Banana? Pooter?”

His eyes lit, and his lips curled up in the first smile she'd seen since they'd been on the run. He shook his head hard.

“Wow.” She frowned at him seriously. “I didn't know you were going to be so picky. This might take some time.” She thought of the kids' series he used to watch, with the smart, lovable hero who always found himself in a mess of trouble.

“Well, you've already passed on all the good ones, but I guess there's always something. Like, oh, I don't know . . . Jack?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“You like that, huh? Well, okay. Jack it is, then. Jack Bennet,” she said, borrowing the surname from her favorite Austen heroine. She ruffled his hair. “I think you make a good Jack. And you know what? I've always wanted to be named Kate, so that's mine.” She tipped his chin up. “But it's still Mom to you, mister.”

Her smile faded as she realized he hadn't called her anything at all for ten months.

Soon. My boy will come back to me soon
.

“Okay, so let's go over the three rules just in case you forgot.” She held up a finger. “One, you have to respond immediately whenever someone calls you Jack, or you lose a point. Two, you can't tell anyone your real name, or you lose a point. Three, this game is a secret, just between you and Mommy, and if you tell anyone else about it, you lose the
whole game
.”

He nodded, smiling.

“You think you're going to beat me, don't you?”

His smile widened.

“Well, we'll just see about that, Mister Jack.”

Chapter 4

E
den pulled Micah closer to the shoulder of the road as a truck rumbled past. At least the trees were shielding them from the wind. She'd never felt such a brutal cold. And while she missed nothing else about home, she'd give the hair on her head for a warm, sunny day. Her tennis shoes had long ago begun leaking, the slush soaking through her socks until her feet felt like cold blocks of ice.

She'd checked Micah's at their last rest, and his were dry. He'd been a real trouper today. She'd hit every place in town looking for work, but not a single job was available.

At least they'd found some free food. The tiny library was celebrating a new addition with an open house. It had been poorly attended because of the weather, but she and Micah had gotten their fill. She'd stuffed two Christmas cookies into her pocket for tonight. She wasn't proud of it, but there it was. Micah had to be getting hungry again, but she was hanging onto the snack as long as she could.

A car passed, bearing to the other side to avoid them. The sun was going down, and there was only one option left. Three
different shopkeepers had told her the Christmas tree farm was hiring. It would be perfect, but it was also a couple miles outside of town, so she'd saved it for last. She'd tried calling but had gotten voicemail.

Micah pulled his hand from hers, and she stopped while he removed his shoe.

“What's wrong, Jack?” She had to get used to calling him that. Had to get
him
used to answering to the new name. She'd used it often today. “Are your feet wet?”

He shook his head, holding on to her as he emptied a pebble from the shoe.

“Well, how'd that get in there?” She felt his sock again, just to be sure, then looked around at the darkening woods as he put his shoe back on.

She wondered if she'd hidden their trail well enough, or if even now Langley was closing in on them. Her last moments at the safe house two days ago resurfaced, her blood pumping at the memory. Her body grew cold from the inside out, and she suppressed a shiver.

Oh, Walter. I'm so sorry.

Micah took her hand.

She flinched, shelving the memory far away from her vulnerable son.

“Ready now?”

Ten minutes later, up a hill and around a curve, a sign appeared.

“Callahan Christmas Tree Farm,” she said. “Well, there it is, Mister Jack. Let's go see about a job.” The sign was old and rustic with bright red letters and bulb lights that were not yet lit. She wondered if anyone would even be in the office this late on a Saturday.

They turned into the drive, their feet crunching on the fresh snow. Pine trees in various sizes lined the lane, rolling with the snow-covered hills as far as the eye could see.

Soon they came to an unplowed parking lot. A large red barn was closed up tight. Unlit strands of bulbs were strung over an area where the cut trees, she presumed, would soon be displayed.

“Looks like they're closed. We'll just try the house. The lady in the store said it's at the end of the lane.”

Please, God. I know it seems like I've done a lot of asking lately, but I need this job.

Even if she got it, it was no help for their immediate needs. It would be at least a week before she was paid. How would they eat? Where would they stay?

Walk by faith, Eden.

Every now and then Karen's voice would sound in Eden's head as if she were still right here with her. Those simple days seemed so far away, so long ago, almost another dimension. Karen would be so disheartened by the choices Eden had made.

And look where they've gotten you, Einstein.

Micah stopped, pointing to their left. A drive cut back to a small, wooden outbuilding with a pipe coming from the roof. The short lane was unplowed and unmarred by tracks or footprints.

“I don't think that's it, Jack.”

They continued up the long, winding drive, and as they crested a hill, a house came into view in the valley below. It was a two-story farmhouse with a wide, inviting front porch. Eden breathed a soft sigh at the golden light shining through the window.

She glanced at her watch, the cheap one she'd bought after selling her Cartier. It was almost suppertime. Oh well. At least someone was home.

Several minutes later, they clomped up the porch steps. She pulled Micah into her side, rubbing his arms for warmth.

She tried to wiggle her stiff toes. “Doing okay, Jack?”

He nodded. His cheeks were red, his nose running.

She reached out to press the bell with her gloved finger, and the door opened suddenly. She stepped back, pulling Micah closer.

A man came to an abrupt halt on the threshold. His dark brows lifted as their gazes connected. He was tall, and standing in the doorway boosted him by a couple of inches. His hair was black and longish.

His eyes dropped down to Micah, then returned to hers. “Hi there.”

“Hi.” Her heart thumped violently against her ribs. “I was just—getting ready to ring your doorbell.”

The porch light placed shadows on the sharp angles of his jaw and highlighted the rest of his handsome face with a golden glow. His eyes were the deepest shade of brown she'd ever seen. Maybe that's why she couldn't seem to look away. That and the fact that he looked like Keanu Reeves.

“Can I help you? I was just on my way out.”

His gaze drifted over her face, making her conscious of her appearance for the first time in months. She resisted the urge to tuck the loose hair back under her cap. Wished the new shade of blond didn't make her look washed out.

“Charlotte from Frumpy Joe's suggested I come out. I'm looking for a job, and she said you're hiring for the tree farm.”

The corners of his lips fell, and the light in his eyes dimmed. “Oh. I'm sorry, I don't think—”

“I'm a hard worker,” she said quickly. “I learn fast, and I can start as soon as you need me.” Like yesterday. Her words were
rushed, probably desperate, but the look on his face was making dread sink its cold fingers into her flesh. “I only need something temporary, so this is perfect. And I'm strong. Stronger than I look.”

She backed up as he stepped outside, pulling the door closed, but not before a delicious smell wafted out. Her stomach gave a hard growl.

“I wish I could help, but the positions aren't open anymore. I filled them today actually.”

“Oh.” The word exhaled on a puff of vapor. No job. No money. No food. No place to stay.

“Why don't you leave me your information? If one of my new hires doesn't work out, I'll give you a call. Some of them are teens—you know how that goes.”

No. She really didn't.

“They're only part-time jobs anyway. I'm sure you're overqualified.”

“You'd be surprised.” She gave a wry laugh, hoping he wouldn't guess at the traumatic blow he'd just delivered.

He glanced at his watch. “I have to go. I'm running late.” He looked over to the side of the house where an old red pickup truck and a Ford Explorer sat side by side. “Did you walk from town?”

“Yeah,” she said, injecting enthusiasm into her voice, like the brisk walk had made her day. “Very scenic. Very . . . woodsy. It's beautiful here.”

He hiked a brow, glancing again at Micah.

She pulled off her glove to write down her information and realized she didn't have anything to write with. Or on. “You have a pen?”

“I can just put it in my phone.” He pulled it out and extended his hand. “I'm Beau, by the way. Beau Callahan.”

“Kate.” If she hung on to his hand for a tad too long, it was only because it was deliciously warm. “This is Jack.”

“Hey, Jack.”

Beau raised his phone and looked at her, waiting.

Oh. What was she thinking? She didn't have a phone number. Or even an address. Her face went warm.

She shifted under his direct gaze. “Um. You know what? How about if you just call the café if anything comes available. Frumpy Joe's?” She'd check back every day. Possibly every hour. “Leave a message with Charlotte.”

“Sure. You related to the Duprees?”

“Um, no.”

He pocketed his phone, then pulled out his keys, tilting his head. “You need a ride back into town? I'm headed that way now.”

He seemed friendly enough, but so had Antonio. And Langley. She'd long since stopped trusting other people. Not to mention her own judgment.

She grabbed Micah's hand, heading toward the steps. “No, thank you. We'll be just fine.”

The space between his brows furrowed. “It's going to be dark soon. I hate that you came out here for nothing.”

“No worries.”

Five minutes later Eden was seriously questioning her decision. She was shivering hard, her teeth rattling. Micah had begun whimpering, and they hadn't even made it out of the driveway. How were they going to make it back to her car?

“I know, kiddo. I'm cold too.”

And hungry, though she didn't mention that in case he hadn't noticed his own empty stomach. Beau was right. The sun had sunk below the hills, and darkness was closing in fast. It was a long walk
back to town. The café had closed at six. She doubted anything in this dinky town stayed open past that. She'd seen a little church, but it had been shut up tight, and the town was too small for a homeless shelter.

Lord.
Eden Martelli, wishing for a homeless shelter. How had that even happened?

Micah whimpered again, and she bent over to pick him up. “Need a break, Jack?”

He tucked his face into her neck, his cold cheeks contrasting with his warm breath. By the time she reached the top of the hill, her arms and back ached, her lungs burned, and she could no longer feel her toes.

She stopped, panting. She bent over to set Micah back on his feet, but he clung to her neck, whimpering. Poor baby.

You can't even take care of your son. What kind of mother are you?

She pushed the voice away, squatted beside Micah, drawing him into a hug. Might as well warm him up while she thought.