Angel's Rest(33)
The familiar cold, dark cloud descended on him, and despite the bitter chill, Gabe’s steps slowed. What was he doing down here in town, eating lunch with people who invited him to go fishing? Why was he working again? Sure, he’d decided not to die—for now, anyway—but what about that decision made it okay to start living again?
Stepping carefully around an icy patch on the sidewalk, he scowled. It was one thing to use his professional talents to help Celeste Blessing and Eternity Springs. It was something else to invest himself in the town’s recovery, to include himself in its social life. To become part of something again.
The warmth of this town and its citizens threatened to thaw the numbness within him. He could not allow that to happen. That way there be dragons.
Gabe tugged down the muffler and sucked in a deep breath, welcoming the cold sting in his lungs. He ignored the friendly wave from a driver making his way slowly up the block and turned his head away from the laughter of a pair of women struggling to hang Christmas garland around the doorway to their flower shop.
Christmas. He closed his eyes. Oh, joy. He might be beyond suicide at the moment, but nothing said he wouldn’t welcome a good old fatal heart attack.
In that moment, he found himself bombarded with the Christmas season. Holiday flags on lampposts. Twinkling lights in shop windows. Christmas carols piped through outdoor speakers. Red and green everywhere you turned.
God help me.
He wished he could leave Eternity Springs. Get out of here and go somewhere warm with a beach where dark rum flowed like water. He’d do it in a heartbeat if he hadn’t promised to spend Christmas with Jen’s sister and her family.
Pam and her husband, Will, had been lifesavers for Gabe during the brutal months of Matty’s extended hospitalization following the accident. They’d pitched in every possible way to help, and Gabe owed them. Pam and Jennifer had been closer than most sisters, and as a result, the two families had spent their Christmases together. When Pam called asking him to continue the tradition for at least this first tough holiday, he couldn’t refuse her, though no way on earth could he have joined his in-laws at their home. Instead, after an enthusiastic endorsement of the idea by Jack Davenport, he’d invited Pam and her family to join him at Eagle’s Way for Christmas, followed by a few days on the slopes at Crested Butte, going so far—in a moment of strength or weakness or idiocy, he wasn’t sure which—as to have the Christmas boxes from his attic at the house in Virginia sent to Colorado. Now, bombarded by red and green and Santa Claus and carols, he feared he’d made a big mistake.
Gabe completed his walk to Cavanaugh House and entered through the construction entrance in the back. Once again the boxer was there to greet him. The two of them had reached a compromise over the past week. Gabe allowed the dog to be underfoot at work, but he made certain he didn’t have a stowaway when he headed up Murphy Mountain at the end of the day. Apparently the animal spent his night at Nic’s.
This afternoon Gabe had decided to tackle the wallpaper in Celeste’s bedroom suite. It was a good time to do it, since she was away for the next three days on what she was calling her undercover trip to Sedona.
He plugged in his iPod earbuds and went to work stripping paper. It was a messy, tedious job, but he was glad to have the distraction. It took him most of the afternoon to remove the old paper and prep the walls, and as he stuffed scraps into big black trash bags, he heard the grandfather clock downstairs chime five o’clock. He eyed the rolls of new wallpaper—a vintage cabbage rose pattern that fit the house but made him wince—and debated whether to knock out a wall or two tonight or wait and do it all tomorrow. Before he could make up his mind, he turned toward the door at the sound of a knock.
Nic stood at the doorway. Forgoing her habitual ponytail, today her golden hair hung loose and flowing. She wore a long-sleeved, V-necked, forest-green sweater dress belted at the waist with a red Christmas-patterned silk sash. The knit fabric clung to her full breasts and hugged her slim hips. The modest hem hit just below her knees and covered the tops of brown leather dress boots that sported three-inch heels.
Gabe swallowed hard and took his earbuds out of his ears.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, smiling. She wore lipstick, bright red lipstick that matched her sash. “Gabe, when you reach a stopping point, could you lend me a hand? I think I might have located the rest of Elizabeth Blaine’s journals in a box in the basement, but I need a piece of furniture moved so I can get to it. Would you help me?”