Angel's Rest(45)
The idea held an undeniable appeal.
He glanced back over his shoulder toward the Christmas tree and wished for the millionth time that God would turn the clock back, let him have that moment over again when he’d reacted just a tragic moment too slow.
He felt a nudge against his legs, and Gabe smiled down sadly at the goofy-looking boxer dog. The dog licked his hand, then Gabe scratched him behind the ears and sighed. “Might as well get this over with, hadn’t we, dog?”
Gabe heaved a heavy sigh, braced himself, and returned to work. Lifting the cover off a box, he absorbed the impact of the contents. Reverently he lifted from the box the tablecloth they’d signed with their names, date, and a message or drawing with paint pens every Christmas Eve. He swallowed hard when he uncovered the three stockings Jen had made from red and green felt. His lips twisted with a crooked smile as he brushed his thumb over the tiny charcoal grill she’d made for his stocking.
Next he tackled the box of ornaments and reached for a crystal heart engraved with the words “Our First Christmas Together” with a trembling hand.
He got it on the tree. He managed the Baby’s First Christmas ornament and a dozen other memory-laden decorations. Just when he thought he might actually make it through the task, he found Matt’s Rudolf. Made from a white paper plate colored with brown crayon, it had a red felt circle for a nose, plastic glue-on eyes, and antlers formed by the outline of a kindergartner’s hands. Of Matt’s hands.
“Dear Lord.” Gabe’s knees gave out. He sank to the floor, breathing as if he’d run a marathon. He wanted to curl up in a fetal position and whimper.
Instead, when the dog approached him and attempted to lick his face, Gabe wrapped his arms around the boxer’s neck and held on, hugging him tight. He allowed the memories to come.
How long he sat there, lost in the past, he didn’t know. It must have been awhile. At some point, though, he heard his cell phone ringing. He was tempted to ignore it, but with his family traveling, he didn’t dare. He fished the phone from his pocket, checked the display. Sure enough, it was Pam.
He tensed and dragged his hand along his jaw. “Hello?”
“Hi, Gabe.”
“Hey, Pam. Are you calling from the airport?”
“I wish.” She hesitated just long enough that his heart sank. “I have crummy news. Nathan broke his leg. We’re not going to make it to Colorado for Christmas.”
“Ah, Pam. That poor kid. What happened?”
“He wasn’t paying attention and slipped on the ice. He’ll be okay, but he’s really uncomfortable and traveling is out of the question. I’m so sorry, Gabe. We really wanted to be with you today and tomorrow. I needed to be with you.”
Gabe braced himself and asked, “Do you want me to come there?”
“No, we’ll be okay. I’m worried about you, though.”
His gaze drifted toward the half-decorated tree. “I’ll be okay, too,” he told her, knowing he lied. “You just take good care of Nate. Tell him I said he’s supposed to break his leg when he’s on the slopes, not before he gets there.”
They spoke a few more minutes, then ended the call. Gabe gave in to the craving and poured himself a stiff drink.
It wasn’t until he’d finished his first and started on the second that he sank onto the sofa in the great room, torturing himself with more memories sparked by decorations on the tree. He was sipping a third drink when he spied his laptop sitting on Jack Davenport’s desk. His gaze locked on the computer, never straying as he finished his scotch.
Then, motivated by a self-destructive need he didn’t understand but could no longer fight, he poured a fourth drink and connected the computer to Davenport’s home theater system.
It was 12:43 P.M. when Gabe clicked on My Videos.
Nic stared at the gate that barred access to Murphy Mountain and Eagle’s Way. The other time she’d traveled this road, the gate had stood open. Today it was locked up tight.
Good thing she’d come prepared. Before leaving home, she’d phoned Alton Davis, the snowplow driver Jack Davenport contracted with to clear the private roads on Murphy Mountain, for the current gate code.
Nic rolled down her window, punched the numbers into the keypad, and waited for the gate to swing open. She drove over the bridge spanning the creek and headed along the road toward the sprawling log house.
The afternoon was cold and gray with the promise of snow at any moment. Eagle’s Way was bright with light, and smoke curled from one of four chimneys rising above the green metal rooftop. As she parked her truck in the circular front drive and opened the door, she heard the faint sound of Christmas carols drifting on the air. That surprised her. The first Christmas after her marriage broke up, she did everything she could to avoid the sounds of the season.