Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge (20 page)

Her brows puckered. “Strings? What kind of
strings?”

“I am very resourceful, Ms. Witherow, when it
comes to business dealings.”

“And shrewd, I’m sure,” she rudely added.
“What did you do, bully the insurance company into paying out the
proceeds?”

His eyes narrowed. “Whatever the means to get
the job done.”

A chill crept along her spine. However, it
was a chill of sorrow rather than fear. Sighing in exasperation,
she pulled the conversation back to her reason for being there.
“However, or whatever, you did to bring about the restoration I am
here to say thank you, whether you’ll accept it or not. I just
don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“I believe that was my intention when I
returned home to mother’s that day after you stormed in here
demanding your money back from the investment. However, when I
arrived you were already gone and mother refused to tell me
where.”

Dazed, she simply looked at him with her
mouth hanging open.

Sighing heavily, he dropped back down into
his chair. “I asked you once to trust me, and I have never gone
back on a promise. I don’t mix words. When I say something, I mean
it. I told you I’d look after it and everything would be all right.
However, you ran before I had the chance to tell you.”

She stared at the top of his head as he
returned to the forms scattered across his desk. Conceding his
words had Laura feeling justly mortified. “I’m sorry. It is easier
for me to be grateful than it is to trust someone. I’ve had to rely
on myself since dad’s death and admittedly it’s been tough. Perhaps
I’ve become a bit cynical. My faith has taken a bit of bruising.
It’s been difficult for me to hand over.”

He looked up then, holding her eyes with his
own in a silent understanding before uttering, “I suppose it
is.”

“Though you may never accept it, I truly am
thankful. Without you, I could have never repaired the
damages.”

“I told you I didn’t want your thanks.” he
gruffly uttered, then added, “However, you will promise me that you
will never allow something like this to happen again and you’ll
keep a better watch on your financial ledger.”

Perturbed, she replied, “I didn’t
allow
something like this to happen. It was an
accident.”

“A preventable accident,” he growled. “Life
isn’t about taking unnecessary chances.”

“I disagree. Life is all about taking
chances.”

Their eyes met, before he turned away
annoyed. “Even at the risk of getting hurt?”

For some reason, she knew there was a double
meaning in his question. With a shaky, but nevertheless confident
voice, she told him, “Yes.”

With a scowl, he brushed her aside. “You’re a
fool Ms. Witherow.”

Stung, she tried not to feel the hurt. “Then
I suppose I am. But, if it makes you feel any better, both the
girls and I will be extra careful—”

Infuriated, he leaped to his feet once more
then hurdled himself across the room to glare down into her
upturned face. “You damn fool! You aren’t thinking about opening
your home as a shelter again?”

Laura visibly took a step back from his
wrath. “Of course I am.”

He reached out and gripped her shoulders in a
fierce grasp. “You are a bigger fool than I gave you credit for.
“

“Let go of me.” She attempted to escape his
death clamp on her arms.

“You might as well just take a match to the
place yourself.” He did not relent on his hold. “Are you such a
fool you would be willing to risk your home again to seek a
ridiculous belief you can save the world? Even after all you’ve
been through?”

“That is my home, whether you saw to the
renovation of it or not. I don’t recall every asking you for help.
I will carry on my business there as I see fit.”

He shrugged her out of his hold. “Give up
your dreams, Laura, before you don’t have anything tangible to call
your own anymore.”

She rubbed unconsciously at her shoulder
where he had held her crossly. “There isn’t anything I want more
than to—”

She could not finish the sentence, for then
it would be to admit her loss. “You may never understand this, but
when I help those girls and give them what little I can offer, my
life has purpose once more. Isn’t there anything in your life that
gives you that feeling, Dexter?”

His hazel eyes bore into hers and Laura saw
the answer before he spoke. “No, I don’t patronize such irrational
musings.”

She sighed heavily as he turned abruptly from
her once more, her despair unnoticed.

* * *

Hours of cleaning and preparing the house for
her young charges in the following days, rendered the home in
tiptop shape. Adell Cameron had turned up unexpectedly and eager to
volunteer her service. Laura was greatly thankful. Not merely
because the extra pair of hands came in handy, but chiefly to thank
the woman properly for all she had done for Laura over the past few
months. Naturally, Adell whisked away her gratitude, reminding
Laura inadvertently very much of the woman’s son.

She was in the process of dragging the round
braided rug, where some of the girls perched during group session,
the few feet to the front entrance where it would be taken outside
to be beaten clean. Bending over backwards, she turned the knob and
opened the door.

Dexter stood on the opposite side, upside
down. Immediately, Laura straightened bolt upright. She stared at
him speechless, so startled to see him.

His expression was his usual unemotional
self. “Let me help you with that.”

“What are you doing here?” Her tongue
demanded now that it was capable of moving.

“Picking up mother.” He reached for the
carpet and dragged it out onto the porch. “Where do you want
this?”

“Over the banister.” Of course, his mother,
he certainly would not be here to see her, to apologize, to beg her
forgiveness and ask her back into his life.

With one toss he flung the dirty carpet over
the railing then turned back toward her, dusting his hands.
“Anywhere I can wash up?”

“Of course.” She led him inside, trying
unsuccessfully to regain her composure. Where in truth she felt
thoroughly unsettled at the sight of him.

“Ah, Dexter. There you are. Is it that time
already?” Adell stood up from scrubbing the hardwood floors,
brushing a stray piece of hair as she did.

Her son silently clenched his jaw at the
sight of his mother, disheveled and dirty. “Let me clean up and
we'll be on our way. I suggest you do the same.”

“Bah.” His mother shrugged him off. “No harm
for the pores to get down and dirty every now and then.”

He didn't say anything, just turned and
followed Laura into the kitchen. At the sink she switched on the
taps and turned to face him. “I suppose you blame me for your
mother's appearance.”

His eyes shot to her own sloppy attire and
focused on a particular black smudge over her left cheek. An urge
to reach out and wipe it away had him brushing past her and
vigorously scrubbing his hands clean. “My mother is a very
determined woman. She does what she wants.” As he turned back, she
handed him a clean towel. “I told her to stay away. She
refused.”

“She's a wonderful person. I should be so
lucky to have an ally in her.”

“Ally? Are you conspiring with my mother?” He
gave a cynical smile. “Is it revenge you're after Laura? What
little scheme have you conceived between the two of you?”

“Don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't waste my
time.” Angry pride had her tilting her chin. She wouldn't give him
the satisfaction of seeing her humiliation.

Adell breezed into the kitchen, saying,
“Well, I certainly feel I've accomplished something today. Just
wait until tomorrow. I'll bring the paint and we'll begin in here.
It certainly could use it.”

“Adell, there's no need for you to help again
tomorrow. You've done enough today and I appreciate
everything.”

“Well I'm happy to help and I certainly will
return tomorrow.” She gave the girl a pert grin. “Try and stop
me.”

Laura's eyes flashed to the woman's son. “I
don't think your son appreciates your being here.”

His brows shot up. “Don't try putting this on
me. I told you, mother, she didn't want anything to do with
us.”

“Us? No, just you Dexter.” She faced him
angrily. “Stay out of my business.”

“Funny, considering it’s the one area you
need the most help with.”

“Stop it children!” Adell interrupted with
her hands raised. “That is enough. Someone is going to say
something they'll later regret.”

Startled at Adell's reproachful tone, Laura
and Dexter went silent. His face remained stone cold and as hard as
a rock; the only movement was a twitching nerve along his jaw.

“I'm afraid it's too late for that,” Laura
quietly stated, recalling her foolish declaration in the
cottage.

The nerve in Dexter’s jaw jerked before he
spun on his heel and exited the room, leaving Laura to wonder if
the same memory had come to mind. “I'll wait for you in the car
mother.”

As soon as he left, Laura whirled on Adell.
“Oh Adell, why didn't you tell me he was coming?”

“And what, let you plan your attack?” The
woman went for the sink and began cleaning up. “You would be
surprised at the feelings revealed when caught off guard.”

“Adell, you don't still hope your son and I
will-will form a union?”

“Hope? No, I know you two were meant to be
together.” She said it so matter-of-fact.

Laura gave a worried frown. “You don't
understand, Adell. Dexter told me. He d-doesn't lov—care for
me.”

The woman faltered momentarily, before
grinning at Laura. “My son is very stubborn, isn't he?”

She sighed wearily. She didn't want to talk
about it anymore in fear the older woman would only raise her hopes
once more. Dexter was a man of his word. Hadn’t he said as much
himself? He had no tolerance for foolish romantic notions or
dreams. His outright feelings regarding that subject, he had been
more than candid about, painfully so.

The following day Adell returned as promised.
Laura was glad to have her help and company. Even more so since
Dexter had not returned. Or at least that was what she told
herself. Less than two weeks left to Christmas and Laura's home was
nearly ready for the reopening. Some of the furnishings were
destroyed by the fire but since had been replaced, though in whole,
the home had the overall appearance it had never been touched by
disaster.

Upstairs, she finished assembling the beds
back together and tucked new crisp bed sheets over mattresses
donated by the local Salvation Army. Standing up, she glanced over
the room and inhaled the fumes from the recently painted walls. It
gave it a new fresh quality and for Laura, a tingling sensation of
excitement. Soon these rooms would be filled with young girls again
and giving Laura's life meaning once more.

Turning, she headed for the attic door.
Almost with reluctance, she turned the knob and ascended the
stairs. Up there had been the core of the fire. In only minutes it
consumed her past, her present and her future. It swallowed up in
its angry thirst all dearest to her.

The walls she could rebuild, but some things
could never be replaced. She felt tears burn the back of her eyes,
and swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat. One step at a
time, she slowly reached the top landing and stood looking around
the empty room. Above her head a large skylight had been fitted
where none had been before. It brightened the room, no longer dark
and gloomy but emitting warmth and a cheerful glow. Laura had never
approved the feature, a luxury she was sure she could not afford,
but she was glad it had been installed nevertheless.

Without warning, an image came into view of
herself kneeling before a box of charcoal remains. Quickly shaking
her head to rid of the memory, she turned sharply on her heel. As
if the fire itself was after her she hurried down the steps and
slammed the door shut. Adell had just come up from the floor below
looking startled at Laura, as she lay back against the door, her
eyes wild with sorrow.

“Laura dear, what's wrong?” She instantly
went over and touched the girl's arm.

At Adell's touch, her nerves calmed and her
eyes visibly quelled their fears. Taking a deep breath, she pushed
herself away from the door. “Just old nightmares chasing a foolish
girl.”

“Not a foolish girl,” Adell firmly stated.
“Laura, what you went through was very traumatic. Maybe you should
consider talking to someone professional.”

“Therapy?” She shook her head. “I'm fine
Adell.”

“Those ghosts may never go away.”

She looked at the older woman, startled. The
woman's depth of understanding was impressive, as well as her sound
advice. If Laura had her wits about her, her own psychology
background would agree with the older woman. But since this whole
ugly incident happened, she had not been herself, overcome with
grief and self-pity.

“Really, Adell, I'm fine.”

“I do hope you think it over some more. You
see, I've heard those words before. Fourteen years ago from a boy
who had life and love in his heart. That same boy grew into a cold
and bitter man.”

She knew Adell was right. The question was,
did she have enough strength. For it was strength she needed to
face her fears straight on. Fears that included more than just the
fire, but which had begun and grown since her father's death.

She was afraid of being alone. The box of
Christmas memories had only been yet another desertion. Cherished
feelings of being part of a family vanished for good when that last
tie went up in smoke.

She knew what she had to do. Adell was right.
It was time she sought help. What good would she be to the girls at
the shelter if she couldn't begin with herself? Then, possibly,
with a little more courage and strength on her part, help Dexter in
the process.