Read Christmas at Twin Falls Online
Authors: Dahlia Rose,Tressie Lockwood
Christmas at Twin Falls (17 page)
“Where did you find these pictures?” he asked in a subdued tone.
“In the crawlspace under the stairs,” Natasha explained. “They were just under there gathering dust and disintegrating. I wanted to give you all the good memories in one place.”
“You shouldn’t have,” he said.
“It wasn’t any trouble. That day I went into town I took all the pictures, scanned them into my computer, and fixed the areas that were fading. Biff-bam-boom I built the book and sent it in to my designer, and he got it to me by Fed Ex yesterday before Midnight got sick.” Her explanation was met with silent. “Beau?”
“I mean you shouldn’t have literally. Natasha, what gave you the right to be searching through my house?” He stood.
“Really? You’re getting upset because I made you a book of pictures of your family?” Natasha rose and put her hand on his shoulder. “Beau, talk to me.”
“I told you I wasn’t ready to talk, but you put yourself right in the thick of it trying to make me open up,” he snapped. “Jesus, can’t a man keep any part of himself?”
Natasha felt her irritation rise. “Whoa, hold up. How is my trying to do something nice for you prying into your dark and secret places? I never asked you to tell me anything.”
“Well I put those there for a reason, so I wouldn’t have to see them,” Beau said. “This is doing nothing but…”
“But what?” Natasha demanded. “Making you remember you had parents? Or even better that you had a happy life? Beau they died. They weren’t erased from existence. Hiding the pictures in boxes behind closed doors won’t change that.”
“What would you know? Did you lose your parents? Did they die because you and your father were having a screaming match?” He turned tortured eyes to her.
“No, my father and mother are in Florida safe and sound,” Natasha said. “But my mother, hell and me and my dad, have had seriously awful arguments. If they died tomorrow, I would never think they died not loving me. I knew your parents. I saw the pride in their faces every time they came to one of your games at school. I saw your dad, the very same one you argued with in town, telling people how his boy got into Notre Dame not because of a football scholarship but because of his mind. How the hell can you think he’d love you any less because of an argument?”
“You don’t understand,” Beau said miserably. “The day they died, that morning, I called from Notre Dame and said I wasn’t coming home for Christmas. My mom was so disappointed that I heard the tears in her voice. But hey, there were always other holidays? I’d been invited to some swanky thing in Boston. My dad tore me a new one, told me I hurt my mom and that it was a family tradition to be together for the holidays. I accused him to trying to keep me a country hick. Why the hell did I get sent away to college if I was going to be dragged back to this one horse town? I was a cold-hearted bastard.”
Even though he said he didn’t want to Beau was telling her everything. It was as if the story was buried inside him and the walls finally crumbled and he had to let it free. Natasha said nothing. She let him pace the room and get it all out. Maybe he’d let himself grieve and forgive himself for something that wasn’t his fault.
“How could I say that to the man who gave up everything to give me and my brother everything?” Beau raged at himself. “Jesus, the man worked his fingers to the bone to build this ranch, and I pissed on it. He hung up without another word, and in my gut I knew I should’ve called back. But hell I was young, dumb, and full of come so I swaggered off. That night I slept so badly I got up and said fuck it I’m going home.”
“I got here early Christmas morning, and they were in town at morning service in church. I was going to surprise them and apologize. I even checked my answering machine back in my dorm and heard my mom’s message saying she loved me. She said ‘Merry Christmas, Beau. I’ll love you to the stars and beyond.’” Beau chuckled mirthlessly. “I hated that she still said it, but to her, Cody and I would always be her baby boys. Cody slapped me on the back and told me that we’d all have a laugh over it later. But that didn’t happen.”
Natasha got up and stopped him from pacing. Their breakfast was forgotten, cold as she made him sit on the couch. He rested his hands on his knees and hung his head.
“It wasn’t their truck that came up the driveway but the Sheriff.” He heaved a long sigh. “They hit a slick spot and went into the lake and were gone. The doc said they probably froze and were unconscious before they had a chance to drown. My mom was still seatbelted in, but my dad wasn’t. He could have gotten out, but there was no way he would’ve left Mom. So he stayed in the car with her, died with her.”
“Oh, Beau,” she said softly. Natasha never knew the details, only that they died in the crash, but Beau would have asked to hear it all no matter how bad. He carried it and so much guilt inside him for all these years.
“They died with my hateful words in their ears.”
“Beau, look at me.” Natasha grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. “They died loving you. Your mom left you a Christmas message on your answering machine. Your dad would’ve hugged the hell out of you, and you would have gone riding in the evening. Later on you’d all be in town with friends and laughing. Life didn’t work out that way. They were taken from you. But, Beau, it wasn’t your fault. Dear God, can’t you see none of it was your fault? Icy roads, a slick patch, these roads are treacherous sometimes in the winter.” She grabbed the book and put it on his lap. “Don’t lock them away. Don’t dishonor them like that. Keep all these for your children, so they will know what wonderful people their grandparents were.”
“My children, are you planning on having children with me?” His big hand cupped her cheek and caressed her skin. Natasha closed her eyes and leaned into his warm caress.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a big jerk face,” she murmured. “Yelling at me for doing something nice.”
“I’m sorry. It was a shock, and it made me confront things I didn’t want to think about. The holidays are hard, and with you here I figured I could write over the past and pretend it’s all ok. But it wasn’t. They’re still dead.”
“And you’re alive. They would’ve wanted you to live and be happy and make babies with me,” Natasha said gently.
Beau chuckled. “Yes, they would. You never know. With all the loving we’ve been doing, there might be a little Everett on the way.”
“Maybe two,” Natasha teased and watched his face turn chalk white. “Remember twins run in the family.”
“Ok, then I’d better do this before we start a family.” Beau reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. “Natasha Quinlan, I’ve loved and wanted you for so long that I can’t even remember not thinking about you. Marry me and help me build a good life here, raise children here, and carry on something wonderful my parents started.” He took out an elegant ring, silver with startling blue gems running along the ornate plaited lines. “Mom gave me this when I was seventeen. It was my grandmother’s, and she said and I quote. . . ‘For when you finally catch Natasha Quinlan.’”
She laughed. “Your mother actually said that?”
He nodded. “Remind me to tell you about the time I boldly asked your father to take you on a date and his response. Anyway, I think Mom always knew we’d be together, so now I’ve caught the Quinlan girl of my dreams. All she has to do is say, ‘Yes, Beau, I’ll marry you.’ Then a new chapter of our lives begins, together.”
“Well let’s see. I have to think about it.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Really?”
“No, not really.” Natasha smiled wide, and her heart beat with the excitement that her dreams were coming true. “Beau Everett, it’s about time you asked me to be your wife, so it’s yes, always yes, and forever yes.”
He pulled her across his lap and kissed her until she forgot where he ended and she began. Beau lifted his head and said gently, “Merry Christmas, Natasha soon to be Everett.”
“Merry Christmas,” she whispered.
“Our breakfast is cold,” he murmured.
“We’ll eat cereal. We’ve got a big dinner planned for later anyway.”
“When do we start cooking?” he asked.
“Oh we’ve got a few hours yet. Why, what do you have planned?” she asked huskily.
“I can think of a few things.” Beau gave her a devilish look before he picked her up and walked toward the stairs. Her laughter was cut off by his kiss because that Everett boy knew exactly how to celebrate Christmas right.
The End
About the Authors
Tressie Lockwood
has always loved books, and she enjoys writing about heroines who are overcoming the trials of life. She writes straight from her heart, reaching out to those who find it hard to be completely themselves no matter what anyone else thinks. She hopes her readers enjoy her short stories. Visit Tressie on the web at www.tressielockwood.com.
Dahlia Rose
is the best-selling author of contemporary and paranormal romance with a hint of Caribbean spice. She was born and raised on a Caribbean island and now currently lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, with her five kids, who she affectionately nicknamed “The Children of the Corn,” and her biggest supporter and longtime love. She has a love of erotica, dark fantasy, sci-fi, and the things that go bump in the night. Books and writing are her biggest passions, and she hopes to open your imagination to the unknown between the pages of her books.
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