Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge (13 page)

“Laura?” His voice changed immediately,
surprising her by becoming edged with concern. “What's wrong?”

“There was a fire—”

He swore. “Where are you?”

“At the hospital—”

The phone in her hand went dead. She stared
at it dumbfounded. Then noticing the inquisitive look of the nurse
sitting behind the counter, she foolishly hung up the receiver.
Embarrassed, she wanted nothing more than to be by herself and
wallow in her self-pity. How could she have allowed herself to be
so gullible? She knew she was alone in the world and had come to
face the reality of that fate.

But tonight, feeling utterly vulnerable, she
made the mistake in believing maybe, just maybe, she no longer was.
It had all been wishful thinking on her part, she realized, and
like a blithering idiot she acted upon it.

Not wanting to dwell on the thought further,
she turned them in another direction. The sight of her family home
with blazing flames soaring from the rooftop came back to haunt
her. She closed her eyes to the vision but could not blot out the
image. Every memory, every moment of her childhood went up in the
inferno and all she could do was sit back and watch it happen. She
felt powerless as she felt the last semblance of her being,
disappear. It hardly seemed fair, time had taken her father, now,
mercilessly, it took her home.

Going down to the ward where some of the
girls occupied rooms, she wasn't surprised to find no one sleeping.
Tension and post-terror were high in the air. When she entered,
everyone began talking at once. She discovered some of the girls,
including Darcy, had contacted their parents and were going home.
It was amazing what a good taste of near-death could do to the
psychological way of thinking. For this only, could she see any
good coming out of this whole disastrous mess.

For the remaining girls, Laura put to rest
any fears about where they were to live henceforth. She laid any
plans aside in regards to herself until she was sure all the girls
were taken care of. She doubted she would have trouble finding a
bed in one of the many homeless shelters in the city.

The clock hanging from the hospital wall told
her it was near four in the morning, but sleep seemed far from
coming. After she left the girls' ward, she walked along the
corridors, her feet bringing her to a large window overlooking the
glitzy lights of the city beyond. Glittering lights that
represented a home, a place of safe haven for the individuals who
occupied them.

Down the hall, turbulence had unexpectedly
erupted drawing her from her reflections. Her eyes narrowed to get
a better view but unfortunately the corridor snaked to the right
and disappeared slightly from view. What she could see of the
nurse's station was only a handful of troubled nurse's as they
skidded about as if looking for something.

“What the hell do you mean you don't know
where she is? Is she or is she not staying at this hospital?” A
booming voice bellowed down the corridor bringing Laura's feet to a
complete halt.

She could hardly believe her ears, but an
overwhelming emotion had her gasping for breath and continuing down
the corridor, this time at a faster pace.

“She is staying here, sir. It just seems we
have misplaced her.”

“Misplaced her!” He grew angrier. “How the
devil—?”

Dexter broke off when his eyes caught sight
of a little figure coming around the bend. Her skin was deathly
white, her eyes wide and bloodshot. But it was the ghastly looking
gauge taped across her forehead with red soaked blood stains that
had his insides twisting painfully.

She spoke first. “You came.”

He knew he should be composing his expression
right about now, to display the anger he planned because she had
woken him in the middle of the night, driven from one hospital to
another searching frantically for her; but it was nowhere to be
found. On their own accord, his feet began moving toward her and as
if an open invitation she responded. A small cry escaped her mouth
before she flung herself into his arms. He felt her touch, felt her
trembling and an urgency unfamiliar to him, had him responding. His
arms came around and pulled her tightly against his chest
reassuring himself she was okay and no longer in any danger.

Laura at last allowed herself to cry
fervently enjoying the unexpected yet rare comfort of Dexter's
embrace. It seemed uncouth that there, in his arms; she found
safety and sanctuary. Something she believed, only moments before
could only be found in a home. All at once, everything seemed to
come into perspective and the reality of her feelings were
acknowledged. Feelings that existed the moment she turned in her
seat that Christmas Eve and stared at him across the room. The same
feelings that urged her to pick up the phone and call him
tonight.

However, they were feelings she knew could
never be returned and, with a weary heart, she pulled herself from
his arms and wiped at the last trace of tears. Dexter pulled a
tissue from his pocket and handed it to her, which she uttered a
thank you. He didn't respond, simply took her by the arm and
propelled her away from the watching eyes of the nurses.

“Where's your room?” He was back to his old
self again, cold and domineering.

She led the way to the room she occupied
solitarily, thinking she was most likely the biggest foolhardy
woman on the face of the earth. If Dexter knew her true feelings,
he would certainly agree.

“Gather your clothes and any other personal
items you may have, and I'll meet you out in the visitor's lounge
in ten minutes.”

She stopped him as he turned to leave.
“What?”

“Gather your belongings, you're going back to
my place tonight.” He sounded slightly irritated.

“What—I mean—I can't do that.”

“Why not? Isn't that why you called me?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I can’t abandon my girls. I need to wait for
the parents who are coming for them and transport the remainder to
Saint Anne’s homeless shelter.”

He stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the
hallway's fluorescent lights. She whole-heartedly waited for him to
find some excuse to be on his way. Tending to the needs of those
girls would not be on his agenda. She sat on the edge of the
hospital bed, feeling ghastly and almost wished she could forgo her
duties as well and leave with him. So greatly the despair in her
heart over the night’s events, all she wanted was to be comforted.
But she quickly brushed the selfish thought aside. They had all
been through something traumatic and Laura would not put her needs
before theirs. She would stay as long as needed at the hospital,
until the last girl found proper accommodations.

He stood silently for so long in the door
frame, Laura was certain he was internally chastising her decisions
once again. Probably even chiding himself for coming out in the
middle of the night on a false alarm. Laura felt horrible. She
wasn’t even sure why she called him. She had needed comforting.
Desperately. And for whatever reason, Dexter was the person she
intuitively sought out.

“I have room in my back seat for three.”

Her chin snapped up. “What?”

He sighed. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.
Just collect the girls who need to be transported to the shelter.
I’ll meet you down in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

Then he was gone before she had a chance to
respond. Not that she was sure she had a response. This was so
outside of his character. Not that Laura was complaining. She
swiftly scurried off the bed and rushed to the ward where the girls
needing to be transported waited. She wanted nothing more than to
go with him, but a disturbing thought had her wondering if she was
asking for more trouble than she already had.

* * *

It was close to seven o’clock in the morning
after they had delivered the girls to Saint Anne’s and then
returned to the hospital to wait for the parents who were coming to
collect their daughters. Laura took the onslaught of many irate
parents who felt her inapt as duties of temporary guardian and
putting their children at risk. While the other half lavished her
with gratitude and praise.

Utterly drained and tired, she stood alone in
Dexter's bedroom. Sighing in exhaustion, she walked over to the
large bed where a cheerfully white quilt welcomed her. Dolefully,
she sunk on to the only soft thing in the room. Dexter's bleak
fashion sense consisted of a black dresser with the simplest blue
vase perched on top of it, an oversized two-door chest also in
black and a matching night table. A rounded headboard and slate
grey splattered walls completed the somber look.

With the excitement of the evening finally
behind her, her mind took the down time to unwilling start to
wallow in the memories of the tragic events. Wanting nothing more
than to blot out the images of her burning home, she took the large
T-shirt Dexter loaned her lying across the bed. She went through a
side door that housed an ensuite and gave herself a good cleaning
with the soap and towels provided, then slipped into the
T-shirt.

As the soft material slid over her head, she
detected Dexter's familiar scent. Clutching it close to her skin,
she took a deep breath and inhaled the balmy aroma. She wanted
nothing more at the moment than to have him take the place of the
shirt and cradle her in his arms. With a desolate sigh she dropped
her hands and went back into the bedroom.

Knowing Dexter, as she came to know him,
moments like tonight as he held her in his arms and comforted,
would not occur again. His heart was tough and she knew there was
no getting through.

Surprisingly, this time around anyhow, sleep
came easily when she placed her head on the pillows and closed her
eyes, all thoughts of the fire, the house, and the man put to rest
temporarily.

* * *

The following morning, Laura felt
uncomfortable rummaging through Dexter's cupboards, but her
growling stomach demanded she feed herself. Thankfully, she
unearthed a box of cereal almost immediately as well as a bowl and
spoon. In the fridge she found a carton of milk and some orange
juice.

She had just seated herself on one of the
tall breakfast stools, when a tall dark form came stalking into the
kitchen. Looking up surprised, she laid her eyes on Dexter's
perturbed glower.

“Where the devil have you been all day?”

Startled, she didn't say anything directly
but instead shifted self-consciously in her stool, suddenly aware
of the shortness of her makeshift nightie.

Dexter noticed her movement and dropped his
eyes aimlessly. The T-shirt she wore, the one he loaned her the
night before, revealed far too much skin. She noticed a pulse
twitch in his grim jaw as he took in the long expanse of revealing
leg stretched from beneath the hem of the shirt down to the floor
where her bare feet scarcely touched the polished tiles.

Feeling uneasy under his scrutiny, she
attempted unsuccessfully to pull the hem down lower over her
exposed legs. The action seemed to get his attention, because he
suddenly jerked his head back up and immediately dropped the
shutter over his emotions.

“Well? Where were you?”

“Right here.”

“Then why in blazes didn't you answer the
phone?”

“You phoned?”

“Yes.” Angrily he stamped further into the
kitchen and dropped the bag he held onto the kitchen counter.
“Twice. Why didn't you answer?”

“I was sleeping. I didn't hear the phone.”
She absorbed his handsome but angry good looks. “Why did you
call?”

“What do you mean, why did I call'? Why do
you think?” He snapped.

She shook her head.

He muttered something under his breath as he
turned abruptly away.

“Pardon?”

He swiveled around once more. Opening his
mouth he was about to say something then changed his mind. Instead,
he turned to the bag he dropped on the counter. “There’s a change
of clothes in the bag. After you're done eating, change and get
yourself presentable. I'll take you down to the insurance
company.”

Her eyes drifted to the parcel and noticed
the name of the very classy and extravagant ladies department
store. “You bought me something?”

“Well you weren't planning to wear that
today, were you?”

She blushed and self-consciously attempted to
pull the hem lower again. “I'll pay you back, as soon as I
can.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged her off, then noticed
the bowl in front of her. “Is that going to be enough to eat?”

“Yes, thank you. I hope you didn't mind me
helping myself.”

“Of course not. I think I could do for a cup
of coffee. How about you?” He started back into the kitchen.

“Yes, please, that would be lovely.”

Coming around the counter he came to a halt
when her exposed legs came into sight once again. “I think I better
get you a robe first.”

He was gone before she could agree. Seconds
later he was back and handing her a big heavyweight robe. Thanking
him, she proceeded to don the sizes-too-big garment. With an impish
grin she began rolling the sleeves and only noticed then the
monogrammed initials on the left lapel.

“DWO. What does the 'W' stand for?”

Unaware, Dexter's eyes grew forlorn as he
turned swiftly aware from her view. “Wallace.”

“Wasn't that your father's name?”

“Yes.” It was abrupt and matter-of-fact. In
other words, end of discussion.

But Laura wasn't so easily discouraged. “Were
you very close?”

“Not really.”

She studied his back since he still had not
turned around. “I’m sorry to hear that. I was very close with my
father. I wouldn't have traded those years with him for
anything.”

He simply grunted a response.