Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge Page 4

  But, at that moment, when their fear was about to be realized, he had no difficulty in shouting out her name in order for her to move like the bullet.

  “Don't flatter yourself. You share your name with my secretary,” he lied.

  “I wasn't flattering myself.” He immediately brought her to the defense. “You barely looked my way, let alone acknowledged me.”

  “There was no need.”

  “No need?” Laura's jaw dropped. “How can you be so rude?”

  “Comes naturally, I suppose.” He hadn't even flickered at her insult.

  Appalled, she stared at him. Then, “Please put me down.”

  He ignored her, simply tightening his grip as he continued cautiously upward. “My dear Miss Witherow, if you honestly believe you've been the first to tell me that, then you're mistaken. I'm not famous for my charm.”

  She felt utterly sick. How could anyone actually appear to enjoy this type of reputation? Desperately, she needed to get as far away from this man as possible, as if it could possibly be contagious.

  Kicking her legs, she felt him heave a deep sigh before he allowed his arms to give way and allowed her to drop to the ground. Standing on her own two feet in the snow once again, she turned on him. On the verge of telling him exactly what she thought of him, it struck her.

  “You called me Miss Witherow.” A smile appeared and began to spread across her face. “Does your secretary share my last name as well?”

  The strained mug he bit hard to control did little for his cover. “Don't be foolish. It's just a bloody name—”

  At that point, however, she was outright laughing at him.

  “For pity’s sake!” With an angry jerk, he moved away from her. “This is ridiculous. I'm getting out of this ravine now—”

  Laura followed him, cold feet and all. “Fraud.”

  “Confounded woman, stop it. You are one vexing female who I've had the misfortune of being trapped in a gorge with, let alone meeting.”

  He was really angry now. Maybe she pushed him too far. But the truth was, as she knew it, under that hard cold exterior was a warm caring man who desperately needed softening. She tripped over her clumsy frozen feet, and would have landed on her knees in the snow if Dexter hadn’t instinctively reached out and gripped her elbow, stopping her from falling. Clearly, he was still seething with anger, yet he bent and swung her back into his arms. She smiled her thanks, which he completely ignored.

  “No need to get so mad.” Deciding it might be best to get on his good side, if he had a good side, she told him, “You're right. It's simply a name. People remember them all the time.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” He glared down at her. “Because if you are, let me inform you I have little tolerance for humor.”

  “Big surprise.”

  He looked as if he wanted to throttle her. “You don't get it do you?”

  “Get what?” They were moving upward again at a precarious angle. Laura tightened her hold on his neck.

  He grasped her closer in response. “I dislike people and they dislike me. It's quite a congenial relationship.”

  “From whose point of view?”

  “Now you see,” he jeered, “that’s the ironic part. If I actually cared—I'd give a damn.”

  Laura winced. “What about your family? You're mother?”

  His face hardened. “We've gone too far with this conversation. Consider it dropped.”

  She had found his soft spot. At least now she knew he had one.

  At last they reached the safety of the road where Dexter walked briskly toward his car and unceremoniously dropped her into the passenger seat. For Laura, she was just grateful to be out of the gorge and back on solid ground. When Dexter came around to the driver side he turned on the ignition and cranked the heaters up to full power.

  “You should be able to feel the heat soon.” He motioned toward her feet which, at present, were curled up under her buttocks. “I suggest you begin rubbing them to get the circulation flowing.”

  It was only after he swung his shiny new Volvo around and started heading back toward the south road, that a question dawned on Laura.

  “What were you doing on the north road, anyway? I thought you said only a fool would attempt—”

  “If the shoe fits . . .”

  “I don't think you're a fool. As a matter-of-fact, I think you are—” She was about to say a hero and she owed him her life, but he did not allow her to finish.

  “Am I supposed to accept that as a compliment? From a woman whose own actions were so foolhardy she not only put her own life into jeopardy, but someone else's as well. Namely, mine?”

  “I didn't ask you to come down that ravine.” She automatically defended herself from his cruel barbs.

  “You were screaming at the top of your lungs.” He reminded her.

  She had an unfamiliar urge to hit him. “What else was I supposed to do? Besides, with your personality, why didn't you simply walk away? I'm sure you wouldn't have had any remorse.”

  “The next time this happens, you can bet that's exactly what I'll do.”

  Seething with anger and hurt she glared at his profile until satisfied, this time at least, looks couldn't wound, she spun around in her seat. Fixing her fiery gaze on the scenery outside her window, she felt her insides ignite with anger. Laura prided herself on her ability to be good-natured and easygoing. People considered her friendly and a peace loving individual. She rarely got angry. However, this man, a virtual stranger, had an uncanny talent to draw out her temper.

  He was a hurtful and despicable creature. It would only give her great pleasure to swipe that mean insufferable expression from his face. If he so badly wanted to be despised, then fine, he would have his wish because at that moment Laura hated him greatly.

  And yet, he said the next time it happened he would walk away. He hadn't said anything about having to do it all over again he would walk away.

  Stop it, Laura, she scolded herself. Stop doing this. The man was intolerable! Everyone disliked him, why the devil shouldn't she? It was, after all, what he wanted.

  She sighed to herself. Because she knew it wasn't in her character. She couldn't help but not like a man who saved, not only her life, but her feet from frostbite as well. Not to mention from a lonely Christmas Eve.

  No, no matter how rude he was, how despicable he spoke, or how insensitive he appeared, she couldn’t dislike him.

  Without a doubt, she knew she would be forever grateful to him. Not just for saving her life, but unknowingly, giving her that companionship she desperately needed on Christmas Eve.

  Less than an hour later, Dexter pulled up to the emergency entrance of the hospital. She wholeheartedly expected him to drop—or rather dump her off at the entrance with a good riddance wave of farewell.

  Instead, he parked the vehicle, came around to the passenger side, then swooped Laura back into his arms. She watched his wooden features as he marched them across the parking lot and through the automatic opening doors to the hospital’s emergency ward, and decided it was best not to argue.

  It only took little over three-quarters of an hour for a doctor to treat her feet for minor frostbite, administer to the gashes on her legs, then discharge her. A wheelchair was brought to Laura's aid, and while a nurse assisted her, Dexter thanked the doctor in a brisk authoritative voice before wheeling her out to his car.

  At this point Laura decided it was time she spoke. “It isn't necessary you see me home. The doctor said I'm quite fine. I'm sure I'll be able to arrange some means of transportation—”

  “He also said you should stay off your feet for a couple of days.” Again, that unemotional voice had her frowning. How did he really feel?

  “Which I will,” she agreed. “As soon as I get home. So, please, if you wouldn't mind dropping me off at the bus depot—”

  “Look.” His voice was implacable as he hauled her out of the wheelchair and deposited her into the passenger seat of his car once
again. “I began this and I intend to finish it.”

  “Fine.” She sighed in defeat, then proceeded to give him directions to her home.

  It wasn't far from the hospital and in no time she pointed out the house lining the street.

  “Daddy left me the house, mortgage free. He took care of everything when he was alive. He must have known—” Her voice broke, finding it still difficult to discuss her deceased parent.

  He wasn't looking at her but she could read the blank, detached expression on his face.

  So, it was back, the ugly face of his character. She sighed, then turned to open the door.

  He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I'll help you to the house.”

  “Really, that's not necessary.” But he was already out of the vehicle and around to the passenger side and scooping her back up. “I'm sure I'm capable of making it to the door perfectly fine.”

  Still no response, just continued smoothly until he reached the top step of the verandah. “Key?”

  “There's a spare in the mailbox.” It was then when at last he deposited her gently on the welcome mat outside the front entrance.

  After successfully unlocking the front door, he turned around and dropped the key in her hand. “You'll be fine from here.”

  She had half-expected him to continue until he properly deposited her in bed where she was to remain for the next few days.

  “I would have been fine from the hospital.” She told him. “But thank you.”

  His eyes focused on her face for the first time. Suddenly, she became self-conscious under his dark scrutiny and nervously shifted from one swollen foot to the other.

  He glanced down at them and said in a commanding voice, “Stay off your feet.” Then turning, he left her standing gasping after him.

  A spark, somewhere in the deep crevices of her being didn't want him leaving. She leaped forward reaching the wooden banister and leaning over it. “Wait!”

  He stopped and looked back. His expression blank.

  “I-I mean, wouldn't you like to come in for some coffee or—a Christmas drink!” Her eyes lit up suddenly. “It is after all Christmas morning.”

  “No thanks.” He shunned her offer immediately and would have continued on his way as if she had never stopped him.

  “Wait!” This time she sprang into action swiftly, following him down the steps.

  She heard him swear, followed by the sound of crunching snow as he retraced his footsteps. “What the blazes do you think you're doing?”

  Coming to a direct halt on the second last step, she came face to face with an angry Dexter. “I just want to thank you for saving—”

  “Well don't!”

  Stunned, she stared at him. His eyes were so dark they were almost a charcoal black. Something horrific in his expression caused a chill to shoot down her spine.

  “What do you mean—?”

  “I mean I don't want your thanks. I did what needed to be done. Case closed.”

  “But you saved my life—”

  “What I did had nothing to do with you.” He looked as cold and listless as the northern climate around them.

  On a whisper, she replied, “You're wrong. It had everything to do with me.”

  The coldness in his face could have turned her to stone. “Don't get any stupid ideas. I'm no hero! You were right about me. You mean absolutely nothing to me and I would have gladly left you in the ravine.”

  Hurt, she stared deeply into unmoving eyes and whispered, “But you didn't.”

  “No,” he agreed. His own voice low but hard. “But I easily could have.”

  Then he swung away leaving a wounded Laura staring after him, her emotions scattered at her feet. As she stood there feeling every wretched sensation, she became unexpectedly bitter and a tiny flame of resentment was lit once more. She wasn’t terribly sure why Dexter O’Reilly should leave her feeling as if she was just stung. All she knew for certain was that dreadful void of loneliness had returned.

  Once in the sanctuary of her own little home, Laura paused in the entrance and took a deep steady breath. What she wanted was for this day to end, once and for all. Along with all the memories of her horrific crash down Suicide Point, the terrifying moments subsequently when she remained alone and in the dark, and most certainly her unceremonious rescue.

  Dexter O’Reilly made it impossible for her to so much as like him, let alone be grateful toward him. He was rude, obnoxious, unsympathetic and above all—a hero. No matter how hard she tried, she could not bring herself to dislike him. Without being able to describe it, he was to blame for her present melancholy state and feeling of loneliness.

  Idly strolling down the hall, she stopped inside the sitting room. Against the bay window stood an old antique bureau where a colorful miniature village was gaily lit. Tiny figurines of mothers, fathers, and children were historically dressed for the cold Christmas climate, their faces beaming of joy and love.

  The village had belonged to her mother. Each piece collected over the years she was alive. It was her favorite collection. Carl Witherow had left the home completely as his late wife had left it on her deathbed. Not wanting to change a single thing. Each Christmas they pulled out her decorations and hung them as she had done years before. Visual memories of her mother graced the walls in honor of her memory and in doing so, Laura never forgot the image of her mother.

  The night before, she left the lights of the village burning brightly, so when she arrived home from the party, alone, the Christmas spirit would remain. With a despondent sigh she reached over and flicked off the large black switch. The festive lights blinked off leaving the shop windows dark and bleak. Reminiscent of her heart.

  Still, she hadn't spent Christmas Eve alone, though she could think of plenty more pleasant ways of spending it, and she was alive today. For that, she was grateful. But, oh, how he made it so difficult!

  Determination gripped her suddenly. She had been given a second chance, a second chance at life. With a sudden surge she realized it was time she picked up the shattered pieces of her life and try to get on with it.

  Quite frankly, as she felt her car go off the road, she felt a sense of resolution. She almost welcomed death. In matters of only hours, her life suddenly had meaning once more. For the first time in months she sincerely believed that, yes, she could live on without her beloved father.

  What plans she decided to make and follow in the future would need to be thought thoroughly through. For some uncertain reason she knew getting another chance at life, would not come again.

  * * *

  The day was especially hot for late August as Laura swiped yet another strand of hair from her sweaty brow. It had been eight months since her brush with death. In those eight months she decided to make use of her education and follow a desire she had always had before her father's death, to work with troubled teens. Her inheritance was a godsend, leaving her doors open and choices to make. The choice she decided in the end was to transform her home, which she had shared so lovingly with her parents, into a shelter for troubled teenage girls. Hoping the homey environment would help make the teenagers feel welcome and safe. With her educational training she was able to hold group meetings which included group counseling. At present, Laura found the program to be successful.

  More than half of the teenagers were sent from the Family and Children’s services, however a vague number were young offenders on probation. For the teenagers who visited her shelter, the majority discovered their problems weren't as big as themselves and they were worth dealing with. Many went back home to anxious parents, but the odd one Laura knew had no home to return. To those, she reinforced they would always have a home at the shelter. Then when the time arrived, she would help them with the next stage of their lives. At present though she allowed them to be teenagers, reinforcing responsibility with unconditional love.

  This decision in Laura's life left her completely fulfilled and happy with her choices. But, as any new small organizat
ion, there were some drawbacks. Namely, the cost. For the past few months she relied on an annuity her father left behind, which arrived on a monthly basis and helped supplement her expenses. However, as teenagers came and went minor damages were left behind as reminders of their stay, as well as the unexpected, Laura’s bottom dollar had unwillingly been thrown into the negative.

  To make matters worse, a bleak hindrance arrived in the post the morning before when the federal funded grant which she had applied for at the outset had been declined. Early on, she came to the realization she would not be able to supply all required provisions and setbacks on her tiny inheritance.

  Such as the alternator on the aging van she presently attempted to fix. Grimacing, she fiddled with a thing-a-ma-jib and was rewarded with a splat of some type of black oozy oil across her already dirty plaid shirt. With a defeated sigh, she admitted she knew absolutely nothing about vehicles. After she lost her pretty little Chrysler to Hungry Hollow gorge that Christmas morning, Laura took the insurance money and purchased this eight seater van.

  It was perfect with her plans to transfer her three-bedroom home into a shelter for homeless teenage girls. The house could easily sleep eight, including herself, and when the situation called for it, she was able to transport all seven girls in the van.

  However, at present, she was at nine occupants if you included Darcy's four-month-old baby. They arrived five weeks before. Her parents refusing to acknowledge their fifteen year-old daughter's pregnancy and after attempting to live with an abusive boyfriend, Darcy ended up one rainy night on Laura's doorstep, baby in tow. They were given a clean change of clothes, a warm bed for the night, and had not left since.

  Unfortunately, however, Laura discovered the cost of formula would not help matters with her meager rations. She had pointlessly been depending on the much-needed federal grant, which now would never be arriving. But she would not give up, she had to find the money and somewhere fast.

  Conditions were getting dire. The roof needed to be replaced, the washing machine groaned it's last that very morning, and the upstairs bathroom had plumbing problems. On top of all that, winter was coming and the cold months ahead would drive the thermostat higher. Which meant Laura could face higher medical bills rather than heating bills if all the girls came down with illnesses.