Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge (14 page)

“You must miss him still the same. I mean,
losing a parent is very difficult especially on a teenager such as
you were—”

“Look, am I somehow inertly encouraging this
conversation? Just drop it.” He turned sharply on her.

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was a
touchy topic.”

“It's not touchy.” He snapped. “I simply
don't get my thrills off discussing the deceased.”

“Especially yours.”

“Don't try your psychoanalysis crap on me.
I'm not one of your teenagers.”

Offended, she was quick to the defense. “I
didn't think you were. I thought perhaps you would like to talk
about your father.”

“No thanks.”

“Denial is a common defense mechanism.”

“I'm not defending myself from anything.”

“It helps the heart cope with the loss if it
believes it never happened.”

“Good Lord,” he exclaimed, turning blazing
eyes on her, “I’m fully aware my father’s dead!”

She grimaced at the brusque tone of his
voice. “Then you're dealing with a common practice of acknowledging
the death but not accepting it. You believe as long as you don't
face the reality it will never be able to hurt you.”

“You've gone too far, lady.”

“I think you've been holding the pain off for
a very long time. Maybe that's why you've become so cold and hard
over the years. Another means of a defense mechanism.” Laura found
herself unable to stop speaking. Her thoughts were being passed
from her brain to her mouth without her consent, but suddenly some
things were becoming very clear. They explained a lot and she had a
stupendous urge to understand more. “I think maybe you're wrong,
you were very close to your father after all.”

Dexter had gone completely still. His face,
an impenetrable stone. At last he pushed himself up from the
counter he leaned against and turned away shaking his head. “You
don't know what you're talking about.”

She sighed. She could see here was a very
tough surface that needed to be crumbled. The problem was, getting
it to bend to begin with.

* * *

“If you don't mind, I'd like to see the
house.” Laura addressed her statement to Dexter as they pulled onto
the main street in Bracebridge.

They just completed their meeting with the
insurance company, which looked hopeful she would receive
compensation. Now came the time when she needed to face reality.
Something she recommended Dexter ought to be thinking about.

“If you want.” He shrugged carelessly.

Glancing over at him, she knew he was still
angry with her for what she had said earlier. She almost wished she
could take the words back. After all, maybe it was none of her
business. Wanting to be a part of his life and actually being
considered a part of it, were two separate things.

On the other hand, she had helped herself to
understand his seemingly emotionless and complex personality.
Nearly made it possible and surprisingly, acceptable. It helped her
to understand how she could come to care for a man such as himself.
Yes, maybe she should have kept her thoughts to herself. Sometimes
it's hard to accept something about oneself if you can't see what
others see.

“But I warn you, it's not a pretty picture.”
He said, interrupting her wayward thoughts. “Though it is
salvageable.”

“You've already gone to see it?”

He nodded. “On my way home from the
office.”

“Oh.” She looked down at her hands folded on
her lap. “Is it bad?”

He nodded.

“I can handle it.” She stated with a false
sense of bravery. “Take me.”

His sturdy chin lurched and his eyes met
hers, altering the bluish hue to a dark feverish tinge.

Laura noticed the funny look cross his eyes
and frowned. “What?”

With an effort he swallowed down hard on an
emotion he needed desperately to get under control. Was the woman
so naive, she honestly didn't see the double meaning in her words?
Lord, they hit him off guard like a cement block. Truth was, he
wanted to take her, desperately. But it was emotions like those
that were going to get him into trouble.

“To the house it is then.” He mumbled, not
really wanting to take her. He could anticipate her reaction. And
realized with a start, he wanted to protect her from it.

Laura smiled her thanks and turned her
attention outside the window. She had come to learn there was no
sense in thanking the man. He simply didn't want her thanks nor
would he accept it.

Not long after they exited the downtown core
and headed straight for the burnt shelter. Laura hadn't realized
just how damaged it was until it came into view.

With a gasp she closed a hand over her mouth.
The sight that welcomed them was dreadful. The complete roof of the
home was missing where the attic once was situated. The rest of the
home smelled of a foul burnt odor and was still smoldering in black
charred remains. The once quant little home now looked forlorn and
destitute.

Dexter watched her expression with pain. He
knew he shouldn't have brought her here. Needing to console her,
yet not wanting to express too much, he reached over and touched
her shoulder.

It seemed it was all that was required
though. She turned to him, tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes
large and green. The greenest he had ever seen. He reached up and
wiped a tear gently away.

Finding the courage out of nowhere, Laura
took a shuddering breath before opening the car door and getting
out. Dexter followed suit. He came around to the passenger side and
took her arm in his hand.

“You don't need to do this.”

“Yes I do.” She stared despairingly up at the
home.

They followed the walkway up to the house and
on to the verandah. The first thing which struck her when she
entered the home was the thick heavy smell still lingering in the
air and the ugly black residue covering most of the walls and
furniture. As they made a quick circuit of the bottom floor, she
was surprised to discover most of the furniture was still intact
aside from some smoke or water damage.

The second floor, however, wasn't as lucky.
Most of the ceiling was missing exposing the clear blue sky above.
The walls separating each of the rooms were naked down to their
skeletons. With a bit of trepidation, she entered the room that had
occupied Darcy and her baby. Her jaw dropped when her eyes fell
upon a black charred crib.

“My God.” She clutched a hand to her heart.
“She would have died.”

“You saved her life, Laura.”

She turned to look at him. “I couldn't leave
her.”

His dark penetrating gaze examined her face
for what seemed like infinity. Then he quietly said, “I know.”

She continued to survey the fire's
destruction, wandering from room to room, when something piled in a
corner caught her attention. Kneeling down to what appeared to be
burnt wooden crates she reached out and took hold of a small broken
piece of porcelain, melted beyond recognition. A funny sound
escaped her throat as she sunk down on a dejected note.

Dexter frowned. “What is it?”

“Christmas,” she murmured. “These were my
Christmas boxes. All my decorations, all my family's
heirlooms.”

His frowned deepened. He wasn't one much for
Christmas, so he couldn't understand the deep torture etched across
her pretty features. But the obvious pain this sight invoked in her
was real making him wish he could eliminate her suffering.

“My mother's village. It's gone.”

“They're only material items. They'll be
easily replaced.”

Shaking her head, obviously fighting back
another onslaught of tears.

“The important thing is, no lives were lost.”
Especially yours, he silently added.

She nodded, then turned to look up at him.
“Do you know how it happened? What started the fire?”

“They believe one of the girls might have
started it.”

“That's ridiculous.” She immediately got to
her feet. “You're just trying to shift the blame, Dexter, to prove
you’ve been right all along. I can't believe any of those girls
would deliberately—”

“I didn't say deliberately,” he angrily
interrupted, perturbed by her accusation. “They found marijuana
ashes in a trash can they believe came from the attic.”

Laura's face froze, void of any emotion.
Poppy's angry voice the night before came back to haunt her. She
had been arguing with Ingrid, demanding she inform Laura of the
truth.

“Ingrid,” she whispered, then sunk down on
her haunches. “How could she? I gave her everything, a home, care,
nurturing. Love.”

He shook his head, not comprehending why she
would have given that much to begin with. But watching her sitting
there, her face blank and staring into oblivion, he knew now was
not the time to scold her.

“I'll give you a few minutes and then meet
you down at the car.”

She didn't respond. He didn't need a
response. He left her sitting numb and detached. As he walked away,
he recognized the look in her somber eyes and knew the sort of pain
she felt. The same sort he felt fourteen years before. Instantly,
he recognized her symptoms and knew before long she would become a
dispassionate and uncaring individual. In other words, he realized
with a start, she would become him.

Instead of being pleased, he felt horribly
disappointed. Laura Witherow as a cold heartless person was an
unsettling thought.

CHAPTER 6

“Where are you taking me?” Knowing she
sounded irritated and ungrateful, Laura didn't care. She was beyond
feeling anything.

“Mother's.”

A flutter in her chest, akin to the rousing
of joy, began to tingle within, however, she quickly stomped it
out. “Why?”

“She's been so generous as to offer you a
place to stay until the situation with the insurance company is
cleared up.”

Aghast, she spun around in her seat. “Dexter,
I—”

Ever since this horrible incident happened
she had been left feeling utter misery and grief. With him only did
she feel any semblance of tranquility. She wanted to tell him not
to send her away, to let her stay with him, but one look at his
inscrutable gaze had her biting her tongue.

“If it’s not too much trouble for her,” she
blandly stated instead.

His jaw clamped tight. He could see it
happening already. Cursing, he swung the vehicle sharply down a
nearby street. The faster he got to his mother's the better. For
her own sake, Laura needed to get as far away from him as
possible.

He took her to a ritzy neighborhood where
houses were lavished in luxury. Adell Cameron's home was one of the
last ones on the street, set back from the road on an immaculately
landscaped cul-de-sac, with a dynamic backdrop of the
woodlands.

In the entrance, his mother stood waiting.
“Laura dear, Dexter told me about the fire. Are you all right? What
am I saying, of course, you’re not all right. Come, I'll show you
your room and you can rest. Dexter, get yourself something to drink
and I'll meet you in the kitchen.”

“I've got to be going.”

“So soon?”

“I've got work to catch up on.”

“But Dexter—”

“I'll call later.” He looked at the younger
woman who refused to meet his eyes. He wanted to say something,
anything; her pale wounded face tore at his insides. Instead, he
turned away and left without a word. It was better that way.

Laura looked up only after he left. Watching
him go, she felt a rush of abandonment and something else, akin to
heartbreak but for the absence of grief.

Adell addressed her. “You're welcome to stay
as long you like. So don't feel pressured to leave early. It's very
lonely around here while Norton is away all day. I'm looking
forward to the company.”

“Thank you. I appreciate this. Truly. I don’t
know where I would have gone if you didn’t offer to take me in. But
as soon as my insurance company clears it, I would like to be able
to get back on my feet as soon as possible.”

“I understand. Though for now, let's get you
settled. Tomorrow we'll go shopping and replace your wardrobe.”

“Oh, but I can't. I don't have any money or
credit cards, I lost everything in the fire—”

“Not to worry, Dexter's picking up the tab.”
She patted the girl's hand.

Laura came to a stop. “What?”

Adell looked worried, as if she just said
something she shouldn't have. Quickly to amend herself, she added,
“If he has the receipts, he'll be able to claim the insurance
coverage.”

“Oh.” It was quietly uttered. Was she
disappointed? Yes, admittedly, she was. Once, just once, she would
love to see Dexter do something not associated with a financial
compensation. Performing an act out of kindness was alien to Dexter
O’Reilly.

Braving a smile to her host, she still found
it amazing the two could be related. Turning, she surveyed her
surroundings for the first time. “Adell, your home is lovely.”

Indeed it was. It spoke volumes of elegance
and yet surprising tradition with its sculptured railings and vivid
colors. In the foyer where she stood above a gleaming floor of
marble in pure ivory, Laura’s memory sharply recalled the white
quilt covering the bed in Dexter's spare room. Immediately, she
altered her train of thoughts, bringing them around instead to the
fabulous chandelier above her head. Countless sparkling crystals
twinkled down at her, their glow illuminating the splendid
foyer.

Along the half-moon entrance were doors
leading to other quarters of the home, and a majestic spiral
staircase ascending to the upper floor. It was in this direction in
which Adell led. Laura followed in awe. The upstairs blended
beautifully in co-ordination with the classic traditional look
Adell evidently favored. She gave the girl a small tour, her face
glowing of pride as they went from room to room. Laura's own room
was breathtaking in its eighteenth century cherry furniture and
feminine shades of pink. A cozy reading chair was tucked in one
corner while a cheerful rose love seat sat opposite a welcoming
fireplace.