A Magical Christmas (14 page)

Words of a song kept filtering through his head. A song from his folks’ generation, really. When Grace Slick’s group had been called Jefferson Airplane.
One pill makes you larger, one pill makes you small
…

All he wanted a pill to do tonight was make him sleep.

He opened up his knapsack and the little tin that should have held breath mints.

He admitted, for a moment, that he was needing the pills more. Some to sleep.

Some to wake up.

He picked up the kind that made him sleep.

Swallowed one down.

And lay back.

The bathrooms were god-awful, Julie thought, especially since she’d determined to undress in there. Although it was difficult, she didn’t exit the tiny niche until she was covered to the neck in flannel.

If Jon noticed, he didn’t say anything. He stood at the window with a brandy snifter, staring out at the snow.

“It’s really beautiful,” he said.

“Yes, it’s that.”

“Did we make a mistake coming here?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. So far, it doesn’t look as if the kids are haying a great time.”

“Are you?” He stared at her pointedly.

She shrugged again, wondering why she was suddenly so uncomfortable. “It’s all right. The place is pretty; the woman is charming. I’m sure that tomorrow the girls will get all excited about the authenticity of her clothing and the house—and Jordan can’t wait to ride. I—”

“What?”

Julie hesitated, wondering why it was so hard to admit that she might enjoy or anticipate anything. “I think I’d like a ride around the countryside as well.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Well, I’m going to sleep. I’m exhausted.”

Julie crawled into the bed, staying far to one side. She heard Jon sit on the sofa with his brandy. After a few minutes, she sat up. “You can have the other half of the bed, you know.”

“I’m growing fond of sofas.”

“Suit yourself.”

Julie wondered why she felt so wounded.

First Ashley. She felt like crying. Her baby daughter found greater comfort in her grumpy older sister than her mother.

Now Jon.

Well, Jon had been sleeping on the sofa at home.

It was all over but—the paperwork.

She heard him moving around the room, going into the small bathroom, coming out. Standing at the window again.

Then he did lie down on the bed.

Keeping to his own side as she kept to hers.

“You don’t need to be ridiculously uncomfortable,” she told him.

“Right. The distance is there, no matter how close I get, isn’t it, Julie?”

She was quiet, wondering why everything they did just seemed to make her more miserable.

“You betrayed me,” she told him.

“Julie, we weren’t living together.”

“We never made any agreement to see other people.”

“I never meant—”

“But you did.”

He sighed.

“So that’s just it. You can never forgive me—no matter how long I grovel.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s not?”

Her fingers curled into her pillow. “I could never trust you again. Never. Damn it, Jon, you hurt me, you destroyed something that had been special and unique between us.”

He was quiet for a very long time.

“Julie, no matter how much I wish I could, I can’t go back and undo the past.”

“The future looks no better,” she reminded him bleakly.

She waited for an answer.

He was quiet for a minute, then he curled away from her, turning his back to her.

The wind rose. Tree limbs tapped against the windows. The fire crackled in the hearth. Julie held her eyes half-open, watching the play of the firelight. Through the moisture of her silent tears, the colors danced in a radiant display.

She woke up to the sound of shrieking.

In a panic, she leapt up from the bed. She stared at it, looking for Jon, but she’d been sleeping alone. Jon was gone.

She heard the shrieking again.

She rushed to the window and looked out.

They were down there in the early morning sunshine. All of them. Her family. Jon had taken the kids out to build a snowman. For a Floridian, he was doing a fair job. The snow creature stood a good five feet or so tall; it was much heavier at the bottom, still round in the middle—and the head was just a wee bit too small for the frame.

Building a snowman had led to a snow fight. Christie and Jordan against Jon and Ashley.

Julie found herself longing to join them.

She hurriedly brushed her teeth, washed up, dressed, and ran out of the room and down the stairs.

She hesitated, wanting to tell Clarissa Wainscott that they would all be outside, but she didn’t see anyone in the house.

Something did, however, smell divine. Somewhere breakfast was cooking.

She’d given up bacon. It was one of her favorite foods in the entire world, but she knew of course that what was so delicious about it was the crispy fat. Artery-clogging stuff.

Bacon had never, ever smelled so good.

Maybe, when she came back in…

“Mrs. Wainscott?” she called.

There was no answer, so she went on outside, running around to the side of the house.

The snowman was there. Topped off with an old clay pipe, button eyes, a scarf, and an ancient, all but decaying hat. Still, Julie stood back, smiling.

The snowman was good. Damned good for kids who didn’t have the least idea what they were doing with snow.

Julie let out a startled gasp when a figure suddenly
rose from behind the very round bottom of the snowman.

“Good morning. Sorry to have startled you, though I admit you gave me something of a surprise, standing there so silently as well!” the man said. He smiled.

He was a handsome fellow. Quite handsome, sandy-haired, with warm, mahogany-shaded eyes. He was wearing an old hat that angled over his left eye and a long overcoat that had to be an absolutely perfect re-creation of those worn well over a hundred years ago.

Jon must be loving this, she thought briefly.

Just as he loved the Smithsonian, the monuments, and all that went on in Washington, D.C., he loved the history of America, from the Revolution on down. She could remember him pointing out a similar coat to her once in the Museum of the American People.

“I haven’t scared you speechless, have I?” the man queried politely.

“No, no, I’m sorry, I—I was admiring your coat.” Julie stepped forward, offering her hand. “How do you do? I’m Julie Radcliff.”

“Yes, of course you are,” he said politely.

“You’re… Mr. Wainscott?”

He nodded. “Jesse Wainscott, ma’am, at your service.”

“The house is magnificent.”

“Thank you. We think so.”

“You’ve turned time back… so completely,” she said.

He cocked his head slightly. “Do you think so?”

“Yes, it’s… remarkable.”

“So you think you’ll enjoy your stay?”

She hesitated just slightly, wondering why it seemed that he was asking more than a completely innocent and natural question.

“It’s a beautiful place.”

“Remote.”

“Yes, that—”

“Eventually, it forces you to think,” he told her with a wink. Then, with a slight nod, he started by her.

“Mr. Wainscott—”

He turned back to her. “Just ‘Jesse’ will be fine. We don’t cotton to much formality around here these days,” he told her.

She smiled. “Jesse, then. Have you seen my husband and children?”

“They were going for a walk, and then on over to the stables. They want to go riding today. Will you be joining them?”

“Yes, please, I’d like to very much.”

He nodded. “You might want to have some
breakfast. I’ve suggested to your husband and children that they do so. If we start out, you’ll be surprised to find how pretty the terrain is, and we might not be back for a while.”

“Breakfast smelled wonderful.”

“A plantation breakfast always is.”

“I didn’t see your wife—”

“My wife,” he repeated softly. Almost reverently. His eyes softened with both tenderness and a strange pain, and Julie was startled by the look in them, almost as if she were viewing something very intimate, and she should turn away. But he quickly collected his thoughts. “My wife…” he said again, and smiled wistfully. “You did—you did see her last night?”

“Oh, yes, she welcomed us here.” Julie didn’t know why, but she felt compelled to go on. “She’s charming. We were very tired; we’d been very lost. Her costume was wonderful; she was just as lovely as she could be.”

“Ah, yes, she lights up the night, doesn’t she?” he queried with such tenderness that Julie again felt strangely that she’d intruded. “Ah, well, rest assured, she is about,” he said cheerfully. “And breakfast is on a casual basis; it’s buffet in the dining room. Just go help yourselves whenever you choose, and amble on back to the stables when you’re ready. That suit you?”

“Sounds great,” she said.

He smiled again, tipped his hat to her, and started on off through the snow.

Julie watched him go, startled by the very strange feelings of envy and something like nostalgia that had filled her.

He was a very handsome man. Charming, very charming. Very good-looking, and with such an easy, confident manner. He was arresting, compelling. But that wasn’t it. She wasn’t longing to flirt with him, or anything of the sort. She didn’t wish that she could have such a man for herself.

Then what was it? she asked herself.

She tried to be honest with herself, tried to think. In the greatest heat of her anger against Jon, she had never really wanted to sleep with anyone else to get even with him. What had hurt so badly was that she’d always liked what she’d had—it wasn’t a lack of attraction to her husband that had caused their problems. It was life. It was traffic. It was the Miami Dade Water and Sewer bills, it was trying to get ahead, and trying to be on time. Petty little things, but zillions of them fused together.

So what was it that she wanted?

Fingers seemed to close around her heart and squeezed just a little bit, and she knew what it was she wanted.

Someone who loved her enough to have that look in his eyes when he spoke of her.

My
wife
…

My wife.

What she wanted was incredibly simple, and simply impossible. Now.

Between her and Jon.

All that she wanted was…

That much love.

J
on was breathless when he ran up the last of the porch steps behind Ashley.

He’d thought he kept in something that resembled decent shape on his treadmill. Maybe not. And maybe he’d given less and less time to the treadmill lately, just as he’d given less and less time to his children.

And his wife.

Almost ex-wife, he thought. She was dying to be an
ex-wife
. How was that going to be? He’d have the kids every other weekend and holidays. No, it would never be that bad. Julie wasn’t vengeful—they’d just hit a dead-end together. Still, it was going to hurt like hell. Like having limbs amputated. It wouldn’t be bad with Christie and Jordan—they had their own lives. Lives they preferred to be private—apart from their parents now.

But Ashley…

He stopped on the porch, inhaling deeply. The kids had run on in ahead of him.

Ashley was still young enough to live in wonder. In fantasy, in belief.

Ashley still believed that everything was going to be okay.

God bless her.

Ashley. Not seeing her every morning, with her optimism that belonged only to a child, was going to be anguish.

But wasn’t this constant bickering in front of the kids just as bad?

It was. And he knew it. And he wasn’t a child, and he couldn’t keep on believing in fantasy. Something had died, and that was that.

“Daddy, come on!”

Ashley was back at the door, her eyes wide on his.

“Coming, Pumpkin.”

“Daddy, you wouldn’t believe!”

“What?”

“There’s so much to eat. So much! Bacon and ham and, ugh, fish things! Pancakes and syrup and eggs. Sausages, potatoes—big chunky potatoes, not like B.K. hash browns.”

Ashley loved Burger King’s hash browns.

“They going to be okay?” he asked her.

She giggled. “Don’t be silly, Daddy. I’m having pancakes with syrup.”

She spun around again. He followed her to the door, then he paused, stamping his feet to knock all the snow off them. At that moment he was glad that they had come, no matter what followed.

Christie had laughed this morning. Almost like a real little kid again, his little girl. Jordan had joined in, telling Ashley that he was defending an invisible fort, and that she’d better watch out when his snowballs came flying. They’d had a good time.

No fighting.

He’d been away from Julie, he suddenly remembered with a wince.

“Daddy!”

Ashley was back at the door.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

He left his coat on the tree in the foyer and came into the dining room. He was starving, he realized.

Julie, sipping coffee, was staring out the window that faced their snowman. She was dressed in denims, boots, and a sweater. Julie loved horses. She always had. They’d talked about buying one now and then to board out in west Dade, but they’d never gotten around to doing it. Too busy.

She turned around when he entered the room. “Hey,” she told him. “Good snowman.”

“Thanks.”

“The snowman’s eyes are crooked,” Christie said critically.

“Watch that,” Julie said. “Your father hasn’t seen much more snow in his life than you have. That’s a damned good snowman for a beachboy.”

Jon, startled by the compliment, didn’t reply.

“You should have seen the snowball fight,” Jordan told his mother. “In fact, you should have been in it. Dad and Ashley might have had a chance.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jon inquired indignantly. “Ashley, I thought we beat the pants off of them.”

“We did.”

“Sounds like I’d be a fifth wheel,” Julie said.

“No, Mom, you’d just be the deciding factor,” Christie said. She was making herself a breakfast plate. To Jon’s astonishment, his granola-and-yogurt daughter was indulging in every vice on the buffet. She caught him watching her.