A Magical Christmas (23 page)

“Yes?”

She was going to speak, but suddenly her face went pale. He thought she was having one of her premonitions again, that she was going to panic and say that something was wrong with the children. And of course he’d agree, because there had been something last night. Something far more serious than Jordan had admitted. He just knew it.

“The kids?” he whispered.

“The ice!” she cried out.

Then he heard it. A splintering, cracking sound.

He couldn’t believe it. He had been on the ice all day. It had been as solid as granite.

But it wasn’t now.

Before he could even begin to move, Julie was suddenly screaming and the ice was giving way right beneath her.

She went down so fast that he wasn’t able to stop her. Her head went under the pool of water that formed in the great crack of ice. Jon shouted,
falling flat down against the ice, desperately reaching for her. He just caught her wrists before even her hands could disappear into the dark void of water beneath them.

“J
ulie!” Her glove came free in his hand. He swore, catching her fingers again. “Julie, Julie!”

Her head bobbed to the surface. Her lips were blue; she was shivering. Her eyes met his in panic.

“Jon. Oh, God, Jon…”

“Julie, hold on, I’ve got you. I’m just inching back on the ice. I’ll drag you. Slowly, okay? We can’t crack any more of this, understand?”

She nodded. He moved backward. They heard a cracking again. He went still, then pulled very hard on her arms, trying to draw her body back up while he inched back toward the shallower shore area of the pond where the ice would be the firmest.

“Jon!” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got to let me go. This is all going to crack up in a minute.”

“I’ll never let you go.”

“You can’t let the kids be orphans!” she whispered.

“Julie, I told you to trust me.”

She nodded, keeping silent. He suddenly pulled himself up on his knees, and in doing so, managed to drag her out of the icy pool of water, and hard against him.

Soaking wet, shivering, sobbing, she leaned up on his chest. “You did it, you did it—”

“I told you to trust me!” he said, cocky now.

She smiled. And she kissed him with the coldest Mps he had ever tasted. It didn’t matter. It was a great kiss. Warm on the inside. Passionate. Grateful. Tender. Wonderful. Yet even as enwrapped as he was in that kiss, the sound of cracking ice was an instant warning that drew him from her.

“Jon,” she murmured, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Julie, shush, will you? You should have, but the ice is cracking up more.”

“Hey, out there!” came a cry. It was Jesse Wainscott, Jon realized. Jesse and a group of friends. His guests had apparently arrived; his party was under way. The friends with him were all dressed up. Some in Union uniforms, with dark frock coats and slouch hats, some in Confederate gray, and some in simple old-fashioned dress. There must have been at least twenty people now hurrying from the slope that led down to the pond from the house.

Help was coming.

“Julie, hold very, very still,” Jon told her. “Listen. I’m easing you to my side. Look, there’s Jesse with a rope. Grab hold of it as soon as you can reach it.…”

Julie did as he told her. She rolled away from him, easing some of the strain from the ice as their weight evened out on it.

“Julie!” Jesse called to her. “Get the rope!”

Julie caught the line he had tossed her. “Slip it around your waist so that they can’t lose you,” Jon told her. She did as he ordered without question. Jesse and a friend started slowly pulling Julie in. The ice suddenly let out something like a shriek and began cracking again.

Jon tried to balance, but the sheet of ice on which he lay suddenly went completely vertical.

He felt the slashing pain of the cold water against his flesh. And he started to go down.

He couldn’t go down. He couldn’t risk losing the opening. He began to pray.
God, forgive me for bitching! Give me a chance, please, God, one more chance
.

He jackknifed his legs to shoot to the surface in the opening of the ice. He reached out a hand, and it was taken.

Julie. Julie had his hand.

“Julie!” he gasped out. He was shaking. Blue.

Freezing, drowning, and dying, probably. And he could still hear cracking ice.

“Julie, get out of here—”

“Trust me,” she told him.

He thought she smiled. She was trying to hold him so tightly. She couldn’t possibly have the strength to hold him much longer.…

She didn’t have to. Jesse was there. The men had rigged up more lines.

“Around your waist, Radcliff, you know the drill,” Jesse Wainscott told him cheerfully. “We’ll get you to the house and warmed up in no time.”

And miraculously, he was out of the ice. Men were cheering, laughing. He was being clapped on the shoulder. He was covered with one gray frock coat and one blue one, and then Julie, encompassed herself in borrowed wool, was at his side, and they were making their way back to the house with Jesse introducing him to his friends all the while.

The house looked wonderful. Warm.

Alive.

It was ablaze with lights. Candles burned everywhere. Couples danced across the polished floors to the cheerful sound of a half-dozen fiddles being played upon the stairway. Tables had been set up with punch, crystal cups, and all manner of fine food: hams, fowl, casseroles, cakes.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Ashley shrieked as they
came in the front door. She came running to them, throwing herself against them. Jon and Julie hugged her instinctively in return; hugs never felt so good, Jon thought, as they did when they came right after you thought you’d never feel another hug again.

“Ashley, baby, you’ll get all wet and cold,” Julie said at last, easing Ashley away.

The fiddles stopped.

The dancers all paused and looked at them in surprise.

Clarissa came forward. “Julie, Jon! What on earth happened?”

“The ice, my dear,” Jesse informed her. “It cracked.”

“Oh, Jesse, how could such a horrible thing have happened here?” Clarissa cried with dismay.

“No harm done, my love. They’re a bit wet, and very cold, but alive and well,” Jesse said.

Christie had come over with a handsome young man in a Union uniform, who was quickly introduced as Aaron Wainscott. “Mom, Dad! Didn’t you even think to test the ice?”

Jordan stood next to her, shaking his head. “Parents can be so irresponsible! Didn’t you two think?” he demanded. “What did you think we’d do without you?” he asked softly.

Jon grinned sheepishly at his son. “I’m sorry,
truly sorry. We’ll never do anything so careless again.”

“Never,” Julie vowed.

“Sorry, folks!” Jon said. “We certainly don’t mean to put a damper on the party.”

“Just go on up and get into a hot tub and get changed and we’ll have warm whiskey for you when you get back down,” Jesse said.

“Thanks,” Jon said. He looked around. It was a strange party, all these men dressed up like Yanks and Confederates and milling around together. What the hell, it was northern Virginia. “Thanks, you guys, all of you.” He saw that the two men he’d met by the oak the other night were two of the ones who had helped pull him and Julie out of the pond. “Thanks—you saved our lives.”

“Our pleasure,” one man replied. “Get on out of those things before you freeze your missus!”

Jon nodded. He and Julie doffed their borrowed wool coats and hurried up the stairs. Jon was already stripping off his clothing as he closed the door. Shaking, shivering, their teeth chattering as they told each other how scared they’d been, they finished discarding their icy wet garments in the too-small old-fashioned bathroom. Jon turned the shower on hot, insisting Julie get in.

“You get in.”

“You can go first—”

“Julie, go.”

“No, Jon, you’re bluer—”

“Julie—”

He paused, determined to dispense with the argument. There were times when it was quite convenient that Julie was fairly small and slim. He picked her right up and stepped into the shower stall with her.

Steam rose around them and hot water pelted deliriously down upon them.

“Okay?” Jon asked her as the water sluiced over them both.

“Okay,” she agreed, smiling. “Jon?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?” The water ran through his hair, down his face, over his back. It was so damned good to be alive. “Julie,” he said, “I was the guilty party, remember?”

“But it’s Christmas, right? It’s all about forgiveness. It’s so amazing, the amount of things you can think of at once when you think you’re dying! I’ve been horrible, too self-righteous to forgive you—and you were right in a way! We had split up; I was naive to think that you’d become celibate because we weren’t together. It was just that you were so special to me—”

“Julie, Julie, you were special to me, too. That’s
why it didn’t work with anyone else.” He grinned. “Literally,” he admitted.

“But it’s not just the past—”

“No, it’s the future,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Julie, we can’t change the world. Modern life is hard. Life is always hard—it’s part of the greater scheme, so it seems. We can’t change bad things, but we can help each other through them.”

“Jon,” she said breathlessly. “You hate your job.”

“I’m quitting my job. If you think we can make it if I do.”

“Jon, we made it before. It’s just scary—”

“You trusted me tonight, right?” he asked her.

“Yes, but—”

“All right, so the ice broke,” he said ruefully. “But we got out of it together. You trusted me. Well, I’m going to trust you, too. You are a good realtor. I hate my job. I really hate it. I have to change it. What do you say?”

She stared at him, blinking against the water. “Do you really think that I can make my half of a living?”

“Assistant D.A.’s aren’t paid all that badly, and I think that you can make a hell of a living. Julie, things were wrong between us because of what I did. They were also wrong because we lost each other. When we first fell in love, it was you and me against the world. I was your best friend, not your
worst enemy. We let life get in the way of living. If you still love me, Julie, let’s try to go back and remember that life is supposed to be about people, children, laughing, getting along—love! It’s not about the traffic on U.S. 1, candy sales, the Bobo Vinzettis of the world, or the rat race in any way. Julie…”

He couldn’t tell if she was crying, or if it was just the spill of water on them both. But she was suddenly in his arms, her face buried against his chest, and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

“I’ve been a horrible mother,” she said.

“You’ve been a busy mother, Julie. That’s all.”

“An awful wife.”

“The best wife in the world.”

Julie looked up at him. Her heart did a strange little skid and slam, like it hadn’t done since she had first met Jon. He was looking at her, too. Gazing down at her in a way that made her tremble. That look was in his eyes. That look she had envied so much when she had seen Jesse Wainscott’s eyes light up when she had mentioned his wife, Clarissa.

She had wanted warmth for Christmas.

She’d been given much more.

They’d missed quite a bit of the party, but it didn’t seem to matter. Once they were dressed in
their borrowed finery and came back downstairs, the ball was back in full swing, the fiddles playing madly and folks milling about and dancing and talking. The house was ablaze with light and laughter. Clarissa remained on Jesse Wainscott’s arm throughout the night, dancing with her husband, talking with him—enjoying her guests, but never leaving her husband’s side. Seeing Jon and Julie, Clarissa and Jesse drew them into the party, where their children already seemed to be quite at home. Christie danced the night away with Aaron Wainscott, who politely shared her with some of the other young men, but only on occasion. The Wainscotts’ young daughter was there as well. Julie met her when she paused to pour a cupful of punch for herself. “Hello,” the girl said gravely.

Julie had a strange feeling she’d seen the child before.

“Hello,” the youngster said again.

“Hello.”

“I’m Mary. Mary Wainscott.”

“Mary. How nice to meet you.”

“I’m the daughter,” Mary said.

“How nice. Of course—that’s why you look so familiar.”

“You’ve seen my painting, maybe.”

“Oh, of course, that painting is of you, all dressed
up in traditional Christmas finery!” Julie said, smiling. “You look like your mom.”

She nodded.

“Where have you been?” Julie asked her politely. “We’ve missed seeing you.”

“Oh, I spend time with relatives,” she said vaguely. “But I’m always home by Christmas Eve.”

“That’s wonderful. It’s always good to be home for Christmas.”

“You’re not home.”

“Yes, but—” Julie said, then paused and smiled. “You’re home with your family, Mary. I’m with my family. And we’re all together, so… well, I guess wherever they are, I’m home. Does that make any sense?”

Mary nodded quite gravely. “Indeed. Excuse me, please. I see a friend I’d like to introduce to Ashley.”

There was a young teenager standing just inside the door to the foyer. He was splendidly costumed as a Confederate drummer boy. Julie smiled, glad to see that the Wainscotts had young friends to dress up and visit for their children as well.

“Mrs. Radcliff!”

She swung around. Aaron Wainscott was at her side, bowing to her politely. Christie remained on his arm.

“I was going to dance with Dad,” Christie said. “And I thought maybe—”

“Aaron, you do not have to dance with me,” Julie said.

“Madam, the pleasure would be mine,” he assured her.

It was a wonderful Christmas Eve. She was swept around the floor by the handsome young man in Union blue while she watched with pride as her daughter danced with Jon. Ashley was even whirling around the room with the very polite drummer boy. And Jordan…

Jordan was having a wonderful time. He was surrounded by three very lovely young ladies who giggled at his every word.