Falling Like Snowflakes (35 page)
“Was it so bad with Antonio? Did he hurt you? Hurt the boy?”
She stared into her dad's haunted eyes. He'd suffered enough. “He was a good dad. Micah misses him very much.”
“I don't understand how all this happened. What was he mixed up in?”
She told him the story from the day she went to the safe house to the day Langley came for her. She told him about her job with Miss Trudy, the Callahans, the Christmas tree farm, and Summer Harbor. Her heart ached at the memory of it all.
“Sounds like I owe these Callahans a big thank-you,” he said when she was finished.
“They're good people. I miss them a lot.” Her throat closed. Especially Beau. Oh, how she missed Beau. Her chest felt hollow and achy when she talked about him.
“Was that Beau someone special to you?”
She got up to stoke the fire again, clearing her throat. “Why do you ask that?”
“You get this soft look on your face when you talk about him. Even your voice changes. And when I asked about him, you got up and walked away. Seems like avoidance to me.”
“The fire was dying down.”
He gave her a look. “Maybe we've been apart awhile, but I know
my girl. And I've been in love myselfâI know that look. Seen it in the mirror too many times to count.”
The fire cracked and popped as she tossed another log on. She turned to find her dad's eyes searching hers. “All right, fine. Yeah, he was someone special. Really special.”
“Why'd you leave then, baby girl?”
She shrugged. Of course he wouldn't understand. He didn't know how bad things had been with Antonio. How hard it was to walk on eggshells 24/7. How impossible getting through each day seemed. How much of herself she'd lost.
“He sounds like a stand-up guy, and you look like a lovesick woman.”
She huffed a soft laugh. “I'm not lovesick, Daddy. I only knew him for six weeks.”
“I knew I was in love with your mama after only three days. When I took her hand at the fair and she looked up at me with those big blue eyes, I was a goner.”
She smiled at the familiar story. “I know, Daddy.”
She remembered nothing but love between her parents. But it was different for her. She'd already made one mistake. And it had almost cost both of their lives. She couldn't risk it again.
“So you ditched the man you love for this cabin, huh?” He looked around the room, frowning. “You always talked about the place like it was the Holy Grail. I guess I just don't see it.”
“It's nice. It's quiet.”
Okay, maybe it was too quiet. Maybe most days she never heard the sound of another voice outside of their own. Maybe she was as isolated here as she'd ever been with Antonio.
“I came out here hoping you and Micah would come home with me,” Dad said.
“Oh, Dad. I'd love to live near you, but I justâI can't go back to Mississippi.”
“I realize that now.”
“This is my fresh start. This is our new home. I need to be on my own for a while. Just be . . . free. I hope you understand.”
“I do understand, baby girl.” He gave her a long look, his dark eyes softening in the light. “I understand more'n you think.”
E
den's dad was still with them two weeks later. He occupied Micah while she worked and pitched in with the chores and errands. She was so relieved to see him living his life again. He looked better, even younger, despite his receding hairline. His face was more open, his mood more expressive. His presence had a buoyant effect on Micah.
He'd gotten a better job back home and had saved up a good deal of cash, and he was hoping to move out of the trailer soon. He'd spent too many years locked up inside that white box.
In early February a storm system blew into the area, dumping a foot of snow. They went a week without leaving the little cabin, and all of them were ready to tramp all the way to town for something to do.
Eden finished fixing her hair and set down her brush, staring at her image. She didn't look well. She looked better as a brunette, and she liked her new layers. But the skin around her eyes looked too tight, and her mouth was shaped in a perpetual frown. She was pale, and her eyes seemed flat and lifeless. What was wrong with her? She finally had the freedom she'd been seeking, and she was still miserable.
You're just feeling cooped up.
She needed to get her mind on something else. She fixed breakfast, and afterward her dad and Micah went to Micah's bedroom to play while she did her devotions.
She read through the chapter, struggling to focus, hearing the laughter coming from the bedroom, the unsettled beating of her own heart.
Her eyes stopped on a verse.
For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.
Her eyes stumbled over the word
fear
and came back to it as it resonated deep within her. Her hand trembled as she marked the word with her finger. She knew all about the spirit of fear. She'd lived with it during those long years with Antonio. During those harrowing months after his shooting.
It wasn't Antonio who had her in bondage now. It wasn't Fattore or Langley. It was fear. Her own fear held her captive. She was as frozen in her fear as her father had been in his phobia. Afraid to live . . . afraid to love.
“What's wrong?”
She hadn't heard her dad enter the room. She stared at him blankly. “Nothing, I just . . . realized something.”
That she'd become her own worst enemy. That she was the only one holding her back. She closed the Bible, setting it on the end table beside her dad's readers.
He sank into the recliner across from her. “Micah's having a blast in there with his Legos. He's a good kid, Eden. Bright and affectionate. You've done a great job with him.”
“Thanks, Dad. He's come through a lot. I'm proud of him.”
“You've both come through a lot.”
She toyed with the frayed ends of the afghan on the couch. The
soft throw made her think of Miss Trudy. She could almost hear the knitting needles clacking in the silence.
“Wanna talk about it?”
She looked into her dad's caring eyes. If anyone understood fear, it was him.
“How'd you do it, Dad? Get rid of all that fear? I thought coming up here to Loon Lake was the answer to all my problems. I thought I'd be free, finally, from . . . everything. And now . . . I just realized I'm still in bondage.”
She swallowed hard and said the words. “You were right about Beau. I love him. And I left because I'm afraid. I'm afraid to love again. The last time was . . . a mistake. I'll never go back to that. Beau's nothing like Antonio, but I'm afraid to trust him. Or maybe I'm afraid to trust myself. I don't know.”
“That's just how I felt after your mom was killed. I didn't protect her. How could I trust myself to protect you? And look how badly I failed.”
“Oh, Dad, you did your best. I know that. And look at you now. I'm so proud of you. And a little jealous,” she admitted.
“When you can't trust others, and you can't trust yourself, you can always trust God. He'll carry you through whatever comes your way.”
“Is it as simple as that?”
“Simple . . . yes.” His lips tilted sideways. “Easy . . . no.”
“Grandpa, come look!” Micah called. “I made a ship.”
“Duty calls.” Dad pushed to his feet, giving her a tender smile. “You'll figure it out, baby girl.”
She watched him go, distracted by her thoughts. She couldn't spend her day ruminating on her issues. She had work to do, and she may as well do it while she had a built-in babysitter.
She wasn't sure how many hours had passed when she heard the sound of a truck rumbling past on the road. She stopped tapping on her keyboard. Turning, she peeked out the curtains. Her heart gave a happy sigh at the sight of the snowplow. Thank God they'd be able to get out soon.
“Look what we found.” Micah ran into the room.
Her heart sank at the sight of the object in his hands.
He held the snow globe out to her. She'd purposely left it in one of the suitcase compartments when she'd unpacked. She hadn't been able to bring herself to look at it again. To remember.
She took the globe and cradled the heavy base in her hands. “What were you doing in my suitcase?”
“It's our spaceship. We're going to Venus!”
“It's very hot there,” she muttered as he ran from the room.
“Good!”
She looked at the joyful angel inside the globe. The fake snow wafted on the floor, covering the angel from the ankles down. She turned it upside down, gave the wind-up key a twist before she could stop herself. The tinkling notes of “Let it Snow” floated in the air as she turned the globe upright.
Snow drifted downward past the peaceful angel, settling at her slippered feet. The sweet notes of the song took her right back to the Callahan house. Right back to Beau's embrace. She could almost feel his sturdy arms around her, feel the gentle brush of those perfect lips against hers. Hear him whisper in her ear.
“I love you. You're a special woman. Don't ever forget that.”
Those were not the words of a man who was out to control her. They were the words of a good man. A caring man.
“I don't want to trap you or hold you back or control you. I only want to love you.”
Her eyes stung, and her throat swelled with tears. She stared into the glass globe, the walls of her chest closing in. She had fallen for Beau. Fallen like those snowflakes, one tiny piece of her at a time.
She missed him. She wanted him in her life. In Micah's life. She pulled the globe into her chest and closed her eyes, listening to the tinkling notes, hearing the words of the song in her head.
“. . . the fire is slowly dying and, my dear, we're still good-bye-ing, but as long as you love me soâ”
The music stopped, leaving her hanging. Her hands tightened on the smooth glass as vines of fear stretched upward, curling around her, strangling, until she could hardly breathe.
No. She wouldn't give in to it. Not this time.
“I trust You,” she whispered aloud.
Even if things go wrong. Even if I can't trust myself or anyone around me. Help me trust You to be there no matter what comes my way.
A note tinkled out, then two, the final notes finishing out the song. “
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”
She gave a little huff of laughter. Her heart was thumping in her chest. She loved Beau. And he loved her. And she was the only one standing in the way of that. She suddenly knew exactly what she needed to do.
“Dad,” she called as she sprang to her feet. “I need a favor.”
B
eau entered the outbuilding and pulled the string hanging from the overhead bulb. Scant light filtered through the musty space. His breath fogged in front of him.
He looked around at the junk that had gathered over the past fifty years. Other than a few pieces of farm equipment, that's exactly what it was: junk. Boxes of old literature, rusty saws, broken tree carts that no one had gotten around to fixing. There was an old cash register circa 1970 on top of an old hot chocolate machine. He had his work cut out for him.
But he was glad for the job. It would keep him busy, and it was something he could do at night. He remembered Aunt Trudy's scowl as he'd headed back out after supper, and felt a pinch of guilt. She was probably lonely. No doubt she missed Kate too.
Kate.
His eyes swept to the spot where he'd first seen her. Over by the back wall. She'd only been a dark huddle in the shadows.
Nothing like assaulting a woman on first sight.
He frowned, looking back on the moment with fresh eyes. She must have been so scared. After what her late husband had put her
through, knowing there were men trying to take her life . . . She must have thought they'd caught up with her. A fist tightened in his gut at the thought of the extra trauma he'd caused.
Way to go, Callahan.
He wondered if she and Micah were settled in their little cabin. If she was as happy as she'd hoped to be. If she missed him.
Because, my gosh, he missed her. So much.
The Callahan men love once and they love deeply.
He'd been hearing it since he was a small boy. He could only hope to God it wasn't true. He dragged a gloved hand across his face. When he pulled it away his gaze fell to the ground. He'd never noticed the bed of hay over in the corner. She must have pulled it from one of the old, moldy bales stacked against the wall and used it to keep them warm.
Daggonit, I'm not going there tonight
.
He fished his earbuds from his coat pocket, plugged into his cell, and started his favorite country playlist. He jacked up the volume, then grabbed the first box. Seeing it was just a bunch of old brochures, he carried it out the back door to the burn pile. The metal stuff he'd set aside to deal with later. His breath fogged in front of his face, and the cold air nipped at his nose.
The outbuilding would be the perfect place to store the maple products he was planning to sell onlineâif he ever figured out how to set up the site. It was just the right size and already had built-in shelving. The door needed a better lock, though, and he still hadn't replaced the windowpane Kate had broken that night, though she'd insisted on paying for it.
His eyes swung to the broken pane as he entered the building again, his thoughts lingering there. On Kate. Everywhere he looked, reminders.
His boots crunched in the fresh snow as he carried another
box out back. He dumped it in the burn pile and set his hands on his hips, tipping his head back. The clouds had parted overhead, and the stars were pinpricks of light spread across a black canvas. Hundreds of them. Flurries fell, wetting his forehead, his cheeks. Still he stared up into the heavens, his throat tightening.