A Kiss in Winter Read online

  “I honestly barely remember him. Everybody was working so hard to help me adjust. They kept me really busy. The social worker came and went. Other than my arrival and Christmas morning, everything else about those first weeks is a bit of a blur.” She went over the scraps of memory, trying to come up with anything she could offer. “I think he was close to my age. He had brown hair.” She shook her head. “That’s about it. He was gone so soon after I arrived.”

  She stretched her back and rubbed her tired eyes.

  Mick relented. “That’s enough for now.”

  She groaned. “I’m sorry. This has been a big waste of your time.”

  He tossed the notebook aside and touched her hair. “We might not have unearthed any new leads, but it certainly wasn’t a waste of my time. I’ve enjoyed walking through your life.”

  Slipping her arm across his waist, she snuggled close. “I wish I could just go to sleep right here and not move until tomorrow.”

  With a kiss on the top of her head, he said, “Then do. You’ve already told Macie to stay with Laurel tonight. I’m not letting you go home alone now.”

  If she’d had the energy, she would have lifted her head in indignation, but all she managed was a weak, “Not letting me? You forget yourself, mister.”

  His chuckle rumbled under her cheek. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

  Chapter 20

  With time a newfound enemy, Caroline could not believe how quickly the days turned into a week. She and Macie had returned home the Monday after they’d taken flight. There was no hiding from Mr. Hoodie, and Caroline felt better having her and Macie in the same place. She never allowed Macie to be home alone or return to an empty house—which had left Caroline pretty much housebound except during school hours.

  She and Mick continued to search for clues in her past, mostly over the phone, looking for the link that would make sense out of these seemingly senseless acts. All they’d accomplished was rehashing the same things.

  Their time together had been minimal, which was probably better. Every time she heard his voice, she longed to be held in his arms. Every time she saw him, her heart did a slow somersault in her chest. Every time she was with him, she didn’t want to part. He would be a hard habit to break when she left here, so it was best if she didn’t get too used to spending time with him.

  Late Tuesday morning, she sat in her living room, frustrated and dejected, flipping through the notes Mick had left for her to review. An outline of her life sat in her hands, and still she had absolutely no idea where this vandal had come from. Maybe it was as random as it appeared. She hoped not, it would be that much harder to solve.

  Exhausted as she was, she could be looking right at the key and still miss it. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since a week ago last Sunday—the last night she’d spent in Mick’s bed. In six days November would be upon them; the countdown to disaster would begin.

  To complicate things further, her interview with National Geographic was scheduled for Thursday. She’d managed to schedule her flights so she’d be gone only sixteen hours. Even so, she was uneasy leaving Macie. Mick had assured her he’d keep watch over her sister while she was gone.

  She had called Sam at school and told him of the situation, wanting him to be alert on the off chance that this would spill over onto him, too. Sam’s immediate reaction had been protective; he was ready to pack up and come home. It had taken an hour to convince him that she and Macie were safe and being careful.

  As for the police investigation, the state police had confirmed that a fuse had been used in setting off the charges in the limber at the battlefield. The explosion was no accident.

  Detective Odell had interviewed Caroline’s neighbors. No one had seen anyone on Caroline’s porch that Saturday. Mrs. Cooper, next door, saw a white pizza delivery car parked on the street for a few minutes that afternoon. Caroline had assured Odell that Mrs. Cooper found everything suspect. She’d once called the police because she didn’t think Sam was old enough to ride a dirt bike. Another time she’d called Caroline because she’d seen that one of the boys with Sam had a tattoo; proof positive that Sam was in a gang.

  Caroline rubbed her aching temples and focused on the pages she’d nearly memorized. Returning to Mick’s first notes, she added the facts she’d uncovered this week. The weather-carved natural bridge had been desecrated with spray-painted vulgarities sometime in late January. On March 12, Crystal Onyx Cave had been broken into during the night and several stalactites had been destroyed. Thousands of years of formation, shattered in an instant. And the worst news, on July 20 a black bear had been caught in a spring trap (very illegal) in Kingdom Come State Park. The bear had to be euthanized. No suspects in any of these cases.

  That left two months, March and June, still unanswered. But it hardly mattered. The trend was clear; just as Mick had feared, the hateful violence was escalating.

  Caroline did what she’d never before in her life done. She curled up into a helpless ball and cried.

  Mick carried his cell phone with him every minute of every day now. If it went an hour without ringing, he checked to make certain it was still powered up and there were no missed calls. Walking from the barn to the house, his heart dropped as he saw Caroline hadn’t called. He felt guilty; no call meant no trouble. And yet, if she’d call, he could go to her. He’d have a way to breach the distance she’d put between them.

  Even when they’d shared the same bed, there had been a piece of herself she held apart, unwilling to let him near. Over and over he told himself it was natural, she was using good sense—she was leaving. But the longer she withheld that tiny part of her soul, the more he wanted to touch it.

  Pausing on the back step before he entered the kitchen, he recalled the warm evening they’d spent sitting here side by side looking at the stars. Their kiss had shown him the door to endless possibility. And now that he’d had a closer look at what could be, he wanted it even more.

  You promised you’d let her go.

  He opened the door and entered the kitchen, unsure how he was going to be able to uphold that promise.

  As he poured himself a glass of milk to go with the peanut butter sandwich he’d made for a late lunch, his cell phone rang. Jumping at the sound, he sloshed milk all over the floor. Ignoring the mess, he answered with his heartbeat accelerating.

  “Mick Larsen?”

  His chest tightened at the official-sounding male voice. “Yes.”

  “This is the Redbud Mill police department.”

  Mick was already grabbing his truck keys and heading for the door. “What’s happened?” His mouth was so dry he could hardly speak.

  “We have your mother here. She needs you to come and pick her up.”

  After his mind wrapped around the improbability that this had nothing to do with Caroline, he asked, “Is she all right?”

  “Yes. She can answer the rest of your questions when you get here.”

  Twenty minutes later he was led to a small room in the police station. Inside were a table, two chairs, his mother, and a mountain of crumpled tissues.

  “I wrecked the car,” she said around sniffles, shredding the tissue currently in her grip.

  Before he could ask another question, a voice from behind him said, “Dr. Larsen, may I speak to you for a moment?”

  He followed the officer out into the hall.

  “I responded to the scene of your mother’s accident. She hit a tree. I smelled alcohol on her breath.”

  “Did you give her a sobriety test?” He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

  “If I test her, I’ll have to arrest her if she’s above the legal limit. She insists she’d only ingested one glass of wine with lunch. She’s free to go.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  “Next time, though…”

  “I understand.”

  Mick took a deep breath before he went back into the room. “Okay, let’s get you home.”

  She didn’t move. “Ther
e was a squirrel.” She sniffed. “He ran right out… I had to swerve. Oh, please don’t tell your father.”

  He didn’t ask how she was going to explain why her car was missing. He put a hand under her elbow and helped her up.

  Once they were in his truck, he asked, “Have you been drinking?”

  Her back straightened and she looked stiffly at him. “Really, Mick.”

  “Have you?”

  “I had a glass of wine with lunch. No big deal.”

  “If I check the receipt, I’ll see only one glass of wine?”

  She looked like he’d just taken both hands and shoved her.

  “Will I?” Questioning his mother went against his upbringing.

  “Honestly, I don’t think your father would be very proud of the way you’re treating me right now.”

  Mick rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m worried about you.”

  “It was a little accident, for heaven’s sake! It had nothing to do with a glass of wine at lunch.”

  “Then why don’t you want Dad to know?”

  “You know how particular he is about the car.” She buckled her seat belt and looked out the windshield, her signal for “This conversation is over.”

  When they reached the house on Chestnut and pulled in the driveway, his father’s Lexus was sitting in the drive.

  “Oh, dear,” his mother breathed.

  Mick put the truck in park and looked at her. “What now?”

  The panicked look in her eyes broke Mick’s heart. His parents had been married for forty-seven years. She shouldn’t be afraid of telling him about a fender bender—even if she’d had too much wine.

  “Well…” She cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll just tell him about the squirrel.” She fiddled with her purse. “You know what he’ll say, don’t you?”

  Mick mimicked his father’s lecturing tone. “You need to think”—he tapped his temple just as he’d seen his dad do countless times—“not react. You put a forty-thousand-dollar car and your safety at risk to save a squirrel.”

  His mother choked out a sob. “I killed the squirrel, too.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “Aw, Mom, it’s okay. A very smart woman recently told me ‘shit happens.’ Sometimes that’s all there is to say.”

  “Charles will say that’s just an excuse for irresponsibility.”

  “Mom, look at me.”

  After dabbing her nose with a tissue, she did.

  He said, “I’ve never seen you so… beaten. Don’t let him do this to you.”

  “Don’t mind me. I’m just upset.” She waved the tissue. “You know how I love squirrels.” With a final wiping of her eyes, she said, “Thanks for coming to get me.” She opened the door.

  Mick popped the latch on his door, too. “I’ll walk you in.”

  “I don’t know if this’ll be a good time to see your father—considering how things are with you two. He’ll be upset about the car—”

  “Let me worry about that.” He put an arm around her and walked her to the back door. He felt her trembling and it really pissed him off.

  “Debra? Is that you?” As soon as he laid eyes on Mick, Charles stopped dead. “Is something wrong?” The question was directed at his mother; his father’s gaze had skated away from Mick as soon as it registered his presence.

  Debra concentrated on unbuttoning her coat. “I had a little accident.”

  “Good Christ. How bad is the car?” The stern set of his father’s face set Mick’s teeth on edge.

  After a trembling sigh, Debra said, “It had to be towed.”

  Mick put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Aren’t you going to ask if Mom’s all right?”

  “I can see that for myself.” Charles rubbed his forehead and half-turned away. “So tell me, Debra, did you have wine with your lunch?” His tone was so contemptuous that Mick stepped between his parents.

  “Stop it, Dad. She’s upset enough as it is.”

  “Butt out!” Charles shook a finger at Mick. “Ever since you came back, you’ve had her so upset—”

  “I’ve upset her? The woman has to sneak donuts in her own—”

  “Stop it! Stop it, both of you!” Debra closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears.

  Mick tried to wrap her in a hug.

  She startled him by pushing him away. “I can’t stand this anymore! I can’t! You two are making a mockery of my life.” She stood apart from them, shaking with rage. “This family… I’ve never had anything else. And it’s falling apart.” She looked from one of them to the other, then shook her head and started out of the room. “Oh, I can’t expect either one of you to understand.”

  “Mom, wait.”

  “Let her be. She’s upset about the car.”

  “The car!” Mick said. “This has nothing to do with the damn car.”

  Displaying his proficiency at denial, his father said, “She just needs to be left alone when she gets like this.”

  Mick stared hard into his father’s eyes. “Maybe that’s the problem. No one ever reaches out to her. It’s always been about everyone else—she’s never asked for anything from us.” He paused. “Until now. She wants her family back.”

  For a long time, he and his father eyed one another. Mick waited for the slightest concession. If he could find the tiniest crack in his father’s shell, he’d go after it and force it open.

  Charles walked away without another word.

  Mick called, “Take your own advice and leave her alone.” He left with anger tying his guts in a knot.

  A short time later, having made no conscious decision to do so, he arrived at Caroline’s house on Butler Street.

  Caroline answered the door looking as miserable as Mick felt. She must have sensed that his appearance on her doorstep was for a reason other than their search for the vandal. Without a word, she took his hand and led him into her living room. She sat him down beside her on the couch, then leaned into the corner, pulling him with her until his head rested on her breast. Stroking his hair, she finally asked, “What’s wrong?”

  With a gloomy chuckle, he said, “That seems to be our usual greeting.”

  “A pitiful statement on the condition of our lives.”

  After absorbing her gentle caresses for a soothing moment, he asked, “When you talked to my mom about the portrait, how did she sound?”

  Caroline didn’t ask why he’d question her about such a thing. She just said, “Excited. A little… I don’t know… jittery, maybe. I don’t really know her, so it might just be the way she always is.”

  Jittery. Nope, that word rarely fit his mother.

  “She’s drinking too much.” The words left his mouth without thought. A pang of disloyalty pricked his conscience.

  Caroline didn’t respond for a moment. “A new problem, or ongoing?”

  He appreciated her pragmatic reaction. No shock. No sympathy. No condemnation. Slowly releasing his grasp on family secrets, he said, “New.”

  Continuing to stroke his head as if he were a child, she said, “It’s an awful thing to watch happen to someone you love—even if you’re too young to really understand.”

  It pained him to think of the little girl Caroline had once been. Good God, if it twisted his insides like this, what must it have been like for her? He understood why she didn’t allow herself to depend on anyone; she’d learned early to be strong and take care of herself.

  “You’ve never really told me about it—your natural mother’s death,” he said softly, fearing her withdrawal. In all of their conversations, she’d been consistently vague; “the day my mother died,” and “after my mother died,” and “when I went to live with the Rogerses.” The only thing he knew about that day was what had been common knowledge around Redbud Mill for years.

  He wanted to hear it in her words, feel what she had felt. Had Caroline found her mother and run screaming, hysterical and frightened?

  No. Caroline, even as a child, would never have been hysterical. Afrai
d? How could she not be? Losing her mother and being taken away from her home on Christmas Eve. She had to have been afraid. Her fear had forged the steel that made the woman she was today.

  “My mother had been in bed for a few days,” she said in a tone of remembrance. “It was the normal reaction to the disintegration of a love affair. I waited for it to pass, as always. I’m not really convinced that she intended to kill herself. I think she just wanted to stop the pain.”

  Closing his eyes, Mick felt his soul cry silent tears. Those few sentences opened the door to Caroline’s inner- most fear—the fear of needing someone too much.

  He couldn’t stop there. He wanted to walk through that sorrowful time with her. And, as much as she’d skirted the issue when they’d discussed every other aspect of her life in detail, he thought she needed it too.

  “You found her?” he asked.

  She nodded. “She really didn’t look any different than when she was sleeping. But she was cold. Touching her hand felt like touching something made out of clay.” She closed her hand, as if recalling the touch. “The lady from the dry cleaners downstairs showed up with Christmas cookies about that time, so I didn’t have to decide what to do.

  “I was so afraid I was headed to an orphanage. But they took me to the Rogerses’ instead.”

  “Did you hate Christmas after that?” How would she ever separate the holiday from that horrible incident?

  The shake of her head was emphatic. “Oh, no. That Christmas was like the beginning of my life.” After a second she added, “Not that I didn’t love my mother and miss her. But, now that I look back on it, it was almost a relief. My life before that was sort of gray and tense. After that, it bloomed with color and light. I wasn’t afraid of what I’d find when I came home after school anymore.” She brightened. “That’s when I got my first camera, you know. That Christmas.”

  The mental picture of little Caroline, red hair mussed from sleep, opening her first camera warmed his heart. “Tell me more.”

  “Well, when I first got there, Mom… Mrs. Rogers then… and the foster boy were making cookies. I remember thinking it looked like a TV commercial or a Disney movie. It was my first time to decorate Christmas cookies. It amazed me that Mrs. Rogers didn’t even mind the mess—we had colored sugar all over the floor. It crunched when you walked.