The Snow Angel (23 page)

Cyrus blinked, momentarily surprised, but he was too angry for something as monumental as a declaration of love to shake him back to his senses. I could feel his grip tighten like a vise.

“Oh, Cyrus,” I whispered. I knew he probably wanted to kill me, but Max and Sarah had loved me enough to ensure
that he wouldn’t. “You’re going to let me and Lily go because if you don’t Max will tell everyone what you’ve done.”

“What?” Spittle flew from Cyrus’s lips as he leaned in even closer.

“He knows. He knows everything. If you so much as touch me, Max will scream it from the rooftops. You’ll be ruined, Cyrus, and you know it.”

“You think people will believe the word from that old man? I’m Cyrus Price, Rachel. My name is as good as gold around here.”

“Sarah knows, too.” I bit off the words, my voice trembling. “They both know that Cyrus Price beats his wife. They have pretty convincing proof.” Even though my arms were numb, I held up my casted wrist, forcing the evidence of my husband’s abuse right in his face.

Cyrus searched my eyes, and he must have seen the truth written there, because the air in the room went absolutely still for the span of a few heartbeats. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until my chest began to ache.

I could count on one hand the times that I had seen Cyrus speechless in my life, but this one eclipsed them all. My husband let go of me as if I had burned him, as if my very skin was made of fire that he couldn’t stand to touch. There was nothing Cyrus loved so much as his own reputation,
and though people had probably speculated about the nature of our relationship before, a public airing of his sins would destroy everything he had worked so hard for. Cyrus was a small-town hero, the high school football star, son of the former mayor, a business owner who was destined for glory himself. But if everyone knew who he truly was, what he did to me, there would be no forgiveness. Everton was a tiny town, but it was populated by people with big hearts. I wondered at the fact that it had taken me so long to realize it.

“I’m done,” I said quietly.

Cyrus stared at me for a long moment, and I could see a host of emotions warring behind his eyes. He was breathing heavily, and I knew that there was nothing he wanted so much as to grab me about the throat and squeeze, but there was something else there, too. Regret? Could it be?

Before I could begin to unravel the mystery that was my husband, Cyrus spun around and smashed his fist into the wall so hard the pictures in the hallway slid crooked on their nails. I gasped at the hole in the drywall, the bloody mess of my husband’s knuckles, but he didn’t even spare me a glance. Clutching his fist, Cyrus threw open the front door and left.

It wasn’t until he was gone that I realized Lily had collapsed in a heap in the corner. She was sobbing quietly, and when I said her name she looked up and began to
wail in earnest. I walked carefully to her on shaky legs and sank to the floor beside my crying angel. I wrapped my arms around her slender frame. Kissed her sweet head, and whispered a prayer for every little girl who had to grow up with broken wings. Myself included.

December 24

W
e packed quickly. I grabbed two suitcases from the back of my giant walk-in closet and gave one to Lily with the instruction to take only that which she could not live without. She stood for a moment in the middle of the upstairs hall and stared at me with wide, scared eyes. Although she was eleven years old, for a few seconds in the middle of all the chaos Lily looked like a very small child. I longed to sweep her up into my arms and cradle her like I did when she was a baby. But before I could pull her to me, my daughter blinked and the spell was broken. She forced a brave smile and nodded. “We’re going to be fine,” she said.

My heart lodged in my throat. “Yes, we are.”

As I frantically tossed clothes into my own suitcase—struggling with only one good hand and cursing the clumsy bulk of my casted wrist—it struck me that the sum of my life with Cyrus could be reduced to the essentials. I packed as if I were going on a vacation—practical clothes, toiletries, a few pairs of shoes—not as if I was leaving my life behind. There were a couple of photo albums filled with pictures of Lily that I shoved between my wadded-up clothes, and at the last moment I snatched a framed picture of Cyrus and me at our wedding. We looked happy, we really did. I briefly touched the reflection of my own young face, the unsuspecting way I tried to hide a half smile, the adoration in my eyes. Maybe, I thought, adding the gilded frame to the pile of things in my suitcase. Maybe.

For all intents and purposes, the suitcases were Cyrus’s. As were my clothes, all of Lily’s things, and the almost-new SUV I loaded everything into. But I believed that Cyrus owed us more than we took, and I knew that with the threat of Max and Sarah’s intimate knowledge of our home life hanging over his head he wouldn’t report the vehicle stolen or anything like that. It was too big a risk.

Though I doubted Cyrus would come after us, I was terrified that he might try to stop us. My pulse pounded a feverish rhythm in my veins as I flew from room to room, grabbing at loose ends—coats and a couple of water bottles
and my purse. Lily trailed me absently, until I told her to go get in the car.

When everything was ready, the suitcases hurriedly tossed in the back and all the lights in the house turned off—I couldn’t stop myself from performing that one last ritual—I slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. It was time to go, but I had no idea where.

“Wait!” Lily said from the passenger’s seat. “I forgot something.”

“But—”

“I’ll be right back!” She slipped out the door before I could stop her.

It felt surreal to be waiting in the cold SUV, my breath turning to mist in the winter air. The smell of exhaust made everything seem stark and real, and I grasped for the first time what I had done. What I was about to do. I battled a wave of hopelessness, of an almost paralyzing fear. Wasn’t the life I had always known easier than the one I couldn’t begin to imagine? I had no idea what waited for us around the next bend.

“I’m ready,” Lily said as she hopped back into her seat. The angel costume was bundled in her arms, wings and all. I hadn’t even noticed that she had changed into a pair of jeans and a striped sweater. “But we have to bring this back to Sarah before we go.”

I glanced at the dashboard clock and realized that it
was only five-thirty. Had my life fallen apart in just over half an hour? It seemed impossible. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, fighting tears. I realized I was on the verge of total panic. “I’m so, so sorry. You’re supposed to be an angel tonight …”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Lily put a steadying hand on my arm, apparently convinced that my desperation had everything to do with her play instead of the fact that we were taking the biggest risk of our lives. “Katie really wanted to be the angel anyway. She’ll be so happy that she doesn’t have to wear a sheep costume anymore.”

Lily was so earnest, I laughed in spite of myself. “You are so perfect. So sweet and selfless and perfect.”

“I take after my mom.” Lily grinned.

“You don’t understand.” I shook my head and wove my fingers through hers. Made her look me in the eye. “Lillian Grace, you saved me tonight. You saved us. Do you know that? Do you know what a hero you are?”

“Mom,” Lily rolled her eyes and tried to wiggle out of my grip, but I only held on tighter.

“I mean it, Lil. No one else has ever stood up for me. Ever. You’ve given me the strength to put an end to this.”

Lily swallowed hard. “I did that?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “You did. You made me feel like I was worth fighting for.”

“You are worth fighting for.”

“I am?” I didn’t mean to sound needy, but after so many years of believing that I was worthless, I was still getting used to the notion that maybe I had bought into a terrible lie. A vicious, suffocating, life-quenching lie.

“You are,” Lily said, squeezing my hand. “I’d take a bullet for you.”

She was so serious, so gorgeous and wide-eyed and truthful that I couldn’t help but grin at her. “I’d take a bullet for you,” I said. “But I hope it never comes to that.”

“Me, too!” Lily drummed the dashboard, letting a little steam off all the emotion we kept bottled inside. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

It felt good to have somewhere to go, a definite destination in mind. I drove to the farm where the pageant was being held with a sense of determination. One step at a time. And this step made a lot of sense—I was crawling out of my skin with anticipation at the thought of seeing Sarah.

Although the inches of accumulating snow were beginning to dim their glow, dozens of strands of white Christmas lights flickered from the farm, which had been transformed into a prairie Bethlehem. As I crept down the
gravel road, I marveled at the sheer number of lights that were wrapped around fenceposts and trees alike. This one little corner of creation sparkled bright and inviting in spite of the growing storm.

The church deacons were dressed in reflective jackets so they could direct the flow of traffic, and people bundled in scarves and hats milled around everywhere. I was grateful for the cloak of night, and for the fact that I did not see Cyrus’s truck. Granted, the church pageant was the last place I expected him to run, but my husband was full of surprises.

“They’re expecting Lily,” Mr. Townsend chirped when I rolled down my window. His smile faltered a little when he saw the mark on my face. “Is everything…?”

“We’re fine,” I said, giving the elderly deacon a tired smile. “We’re actually looking for Sarah. Do you know where she is?”

“Can’t miss her.” His laugh sounded just the tiniest bit manufactured. I followed his pointing finger to the barn where Sarah was standing on a hay bale trying to dole out last-minute instructions to a group of Sunday school kids in full costume. They wore winter coats beneath their shepherd robes and felt cowhides, and they looked like nothing so much as overgrown Weebles. I suppressed a wry chuckle in spite of the situation.

“Do you mind if I just double park here for a minute? We’re not staying.”

Mr. Townsend gave me a sober look that seemed far too knowing for my comfort. “I’ll watch your car,” he said kindly. “Go ahead and leave it running.”

“Thank you.” I gathered up the bundle of Lily’s angel costume and told her to stay in the car. “I’ll be right back.”

She just nodded.

I jogged across the gravel driveway, weaving through people who would have tried to talk to me if I hadn’t worn such a look of resolve. As I approached the hay bale where Sarah stood, she clapped her hands together and grinned, sending the kids scuttling off to hide behind the scenes in the hulking barn turned Bethlehem stable. She smiled after them for a moment, then turned her attention to the crowd. She picked me out almost immediately. Her face changed in an instant.

“Rachel,” she said under her breath as she jumped down and hurried over to me. “What’s wrong? Where’s Lily?”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “But I’m afraid she can’t be the angel tonight.” Sarah looked confused as I transferred the beautiful costume to her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“But—”

“We’re leaving,” I interrupted her, fighting an emotion that I didn’t have the time to indulge. The thought of leaving my friend nearly tore my heart in two.

Sarah searched my face before pressing her lips together against the tears that sprang to her eyes. “You finally did
it,” she whispered, throwing her arms around me, bulky costume and all.

“I suppose so. Though I don’t really know what ‘it’ is.”

“It is life, sweetie. Rich, abundant, thrilling life! You’ve embraced it.” Sarah laughed, a quick happy tumble of notes that were musical and bright. “What Cyrus did to you is evil. But it struck me the other day that if you turn evil around, you’re left with a pretty clear directive: live. And that’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re going to live, Rachel. Really live.”

“I am?”

Sarah ignored me. “There’s a passage in John that I love …” she trailed off, wrinkling up her nose as she tried to remember. “‘The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that you may have life, and have it to the full.’”

Her words were warm and rich as honey. Life to the full. It sounded like a promise: a promise that I longed to believe, but that was almost too good to be true. Could it be? Could that life be for me?

But before I could ponder her words, Sarah pushed back and held me at arm’s length. “You have to go see Max.”

“What?”

“Right now. I’ll call him and tell him to meet you at the shop.”

“At Eden? But why? I’d love to say good-bye to Max, but surely he’s not at his shop on Christmas Eve.”

“He’ll meet you there,” Rachel said with conviction. “Listen, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Go to Eden.”

“Fine,” I said shrugging helplessly. “Whatever you say.”