Christine sat in her bedroom, staring at her cell phone. She had to call the office, but she didn’t want to. Even though she still had a week’s vacation, she couldn’t rest until she had dealt with the problem.
Her mind kept drifting back to Will’s comment the day before. “You know how you feel something right here. Right in the core of your being,” he’d said about his work, but Christine wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt that certain about anything. She often felt fear in the core of her being.
She fiddled with the cell buttons while trying to phrase her opening sentences. What should she say that would get the point across about her delay without alarming Chet.
Chet. Her stomach twisted. Chet, the man she had trusted and the one who’d stabbed her in the back. The memory of her naiveté suddenly overwhelmed her. As she rehearsed her dialogue, it fell apart, as it did so often when confronting her boss.
Instead of worrying about Chet, she turned her idea to a new direction. If she could work via cell and e-mail for a few days—just as a test—then he would have fewer complaints with her delay in returning to work. The idea sank as fast as it rose, but she had no other plan.
She hit the memory dial and heard the connection. “Sandy? Hi, this is Christine.”
“Hey, girlfriend, how’s the vacation?”
“It’s okay, but—”
“But no handsome men around?”
“That’s not the problem.”
She chuckled. “Too many choices?”
“No. There’s one man—my grandmother’s boarder, but he’s another issue. Listen to me.” She swallowed. “I’ve run into a problem.”
“Problem? What kind?”
Christine summarized her newest challenge in between Sandy’s questions and her vocalized groans of sympathy.
“When’s the next team meeting?” Christine asked.
“In an hour.”
She cringed and looked at her watch. “That soon.”
“I thought you were on vacation.”
“Yes, I know I’m on vacation, but—”
“Forget the but. Tell me about this boarder. Looks. Age. Prospects.”
“I don’t know. He’s good-looking.” Goodlooking, beguiling, sweet. “Will owns a store on the island. He’s a stained-glass artist.”
“Hmm? The artistic type. Clever. Married or—”
“Single. Now can we—”
“Age?”
“I have no idea.” She pictured Will’s youthful spirit, but he’d accomplished so much she could only speculate. “My age, I suppose. Late thirties maybe, but that has nothing to do with anything. I need to see how I can function long distance, or else how can I impress Chet that I can stay away and still work?”
“That’s a hard call, Christine. I don’t think it’s possible.”
Christine tossed the comment aside. “I want to give it a try.” She drew up her shoulders. “How about trying a conference call? Do you think that would work?”
Sandy’s voice flagged again before she came back with a semipositive comment.
Christine tried to keep up her hopes. “Would you ask the team, then give me a call? I’ll sit in on the meeting and see what happens. I have to make this work, Sandy.”
“I’ll do what I can, Christine, but you’re really asking the impossible. What about the visuals—graphics, charts, PowerPoint—”
Her coworker’s commiseration did little to assure Christine. “I know, but you can do it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Sandy said.
“Thanks for pitching them the idea for me. I can work on the brochure from here. Tell them that, okay?”
When she’d hung up, she felt defeated. Sandy’s reminder of the visuals gnawed at her. The team would spend too much time trying to explain those to her unless… Her spirit lifted. If Sandy could scan the material and send it, she could at least see it on her computer.
Will stopped at the kitchen doorway. “What’s wrong?”
Christine shook her head, her face more full of frustration than he’d seen since she arrived. “Nothing.”
“For nothing, you look as if you lost your best friend.” His heart skipped. “Don’t tell me something’s wrong with Grandma Ella.”
Christine rose and pushed the computer lid closed. “She’s fine. The therapist came today, and it tired her. She’s napping.”
He eyed the computer a moment, then her face, seeing something had upset her. “Did you help Judy with the therapy today?”
“No, I was busy.” She heaved a deep sigh. “It was bad timing.”
Bad timing. He wondered why Christine didn’t understand the importance of therapy. Frisking for a solution, Will wandered to the cookie jar and looked into the empty cavern, then slid the lid back on and moved to the refrigerator. “I can show you what I know. Christine, do you realize the longer it takes her to get back into gear, the harder it’ll be?”
As if she hadn’t heard, Christine lifted the laptop from the table without a response.
He grabbed an apple from the fridge fruit drawer and closed the door, then leaned his back against it. “You came here to help your grandmother, didn’t you?”
“Who are you? The therapy police?” She plopped the computer back onto the table.
“Therapy police?” He laughed.
She looked at him finally and laughed with him. Will loved her smile—when she had one.
“Look, I don’t mean to be sharp, but I’m having some problems. I don’t know how this is going to work with me on the island and my work in Southfield.” Frustration flooded her face. “You don’t understand, because your work is here.”
“I’m sorry about—” He shook his head, not knowing what to say. Instead he tried a different tack. “Anything I can do to help?”
She stared into space a moment, then gave a single head shake. “Not unless you have a trick form of transportation that can get me to Southfield and back in a couple of minutes.”
He slipped into a chair and took a bite of the apple. The skin broke and the loud crack punctuated the silence. “Sorry. I can’t help you with that, either.”
“No one can,” she said, her head lowering.
He waited, then saw her darkened face tinge a brighter shade.
“Or maybe there is.” She lifted her eyes to his.
He could see the wheels turning. “What is it?”
“What did you call that service? The place where the therapist works?”
“Vital Care.” Disbelieving, he waited for her idea.
“I’ll call my dad. I’m sure they have full-time nursing staff. I know it’s costly, but Grandma must have insurance and—”
“She only has Medicare. Your folks already checked.”
Her head shot upward. “What does that mean?”
“They checked.”
“And?”
“I don’t want you to bite my head off.”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t know all the details, but your dad looked into a temporary full-time caregiver to take over until they returned. It wasn’t possible.”
She pursed her lips and opened her mouth, then closed it. “I’ll still talk to my dad.”
“Go ahead.” He patted the chair beside him. “Sit for a minute. I have three college years in business. What’s your problem at the firm? Maybe I can help.”
She looked distrusting at first, then seemed to have second thoughts and sank back into the chair. “It’s just difficult. We met today on a conference call.” She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and glanced at the phone. “The power’s low on my cell.” She slipped it back. “It’s difficult. Everyone talks at once. I can’t see the visuals. I asked Sandy about scanning them or sending attachments ahead of time so I can view them on the computer, but she doesn’t have time or access to the ad ideas before the meeting.”
Will rallied his courage. “You’re on vacation, right?”
“Yes, but that’s for little more than a week. I only have a couple more weeks’ vacation after that, and I don’t want to use them all for—”
“Here’s a thought.” He managed a smile. “The quicker your grandmother can function alone, the faster you’ll get home. Her therapy is vital. Instead of worrying about your job right now, concentrate on helping your grandmother.”
Christine’s expression caused him to backpedal. “I know your work is your career and your life, but for the next week, let’s see how much progress she can make. Between Linda and me, maybe we can take over so you can go home.”
Christine’s gloom began to fade. “Do you think she’ll improve that fast?”
He had to be honest. “A week will give you time to make decisions, and every improvement adds to the possibility.”
“You’re right,” she said.
I am? he almost said aloud. “So with that settled, let’s think about dinner.” He sent her an approving smile.
He received an arched eyebrow in return.
Christine sat nearby, listening to the therapist’s instructions.
“Okay, Ella,” Judy said, “now place your arms at your sides, then slowly lift them over your head and then lower them. We’ll do this ten times today.”
Watching her grandmother’s struggle gnawed at Christine’s emotions. Something so simple appeared very difficult. Ella raised her right arm, but it seemed forever before the left rose above the mattress.
“Good,” Judy said. “Now again.”
Christine averted her gaze and looked out the window at the dancing snow. Snow. Time had flown. Thanksgiving had passed the week before, and now Christmas seemed on their doorstep. She had so much to do for the holiday. She hadn’t finished her shopping, and nothing seemed open on the island.
“Do you understand, Christine?”
Judy’s voice jerked her back to the therapy. “Yes, ten times over her head.”
Her frown gave Christine a warning she’d let her attention drift too far.
“Then she will sit up and do ten more.” She supported Ella’s back and helped her raise her left arm. “After a couple, she can try it herself. Right, Ella?”
“Right,” Ella said, with a look of despair.
Christine nodded. “Ten times lying down and ten sitting up.”
“Yes, and then on Friday, add five more. And I want you to pick up a jigsaw puzzle. That’ll be great exercise for Ella’s hands and fingers. It aids dexterity.”
“A jigsaw puzzle.”
“Yes. They probably have them at the drugstore.”
Christine’s thoughts left the jigsaw puzzle and shifted to Will. He’d tried so hard to help her, and she had been terribly ungrateful. He made her laugh and forget her troubles, but she fought him every step. Why? She shook her head, having no answer except the one she didn’t want to face—envy of his relationship with her grandmother.
Christine’s focus drifted back to her grandmother’s quivering limbs. Sadness washed over her.
Judy helped Ella rise. “And now we’re going to do laps.”
“Laps?” That statement triggered Christine’s attention. “Where?”
“From the living room through the foyer into the kitchen and around the table and back.” She turned to Ella. “You’ll use your walker, but soon I want you on a cane. You want to get well, don’t you?”
“Do I look stupid?” Ella said.
Christine laughed.
“Now, now, Ella. You’re a smart lady,” Judy said, “and that’s why I know you can do this. But you must have someone work with you. Don’t try walking with the cane alone for a while.”
The truth of the situation sank into Christine’s head. She couldn’t walk away and leave her grandmother unless she had professional help, and if Will had been accurate, that seemed hopeless. Maybe he’d been wrong.
As the thought drifted into her mind, Christine heard the hallway door open and close, and Will appeared in her grandmother’s bedroom doorway. “How’s it going?”
The scent of winter rode in on his jacket—a crispy fragrance of outdoors and fresh air.
“I’m going to be doing a few pirouettes before you know it,” Ella said. “Just you wait and see.”
“I never doubted that,” Will said. He strode toward Judy. “Are you finished?”
“We’ll do some laps, but I think Christine’s done.”
“That’s who I wanted,” he said. “Are you going to be here for a few more minutes?”
Judy nodded. “Another half hour or so.”
“Great,” he said, running his fingers through his snow-dampened hair. “I want to show Christine a couple of things if I can steal her.”
“She’s all yours.” Judy looked from Christine to Will and back again. “Are you taking her to the tree-lighting ceremony tonight? It’s a beautiful sight.”
“Tree lighting? I hadn’t—”
“At dusk,” Ella said, gesturing with her good arm. “Christine would enjoy that, Will. I’m sure Linda will come in to stay for an hour while you go.”
Christine’s focus wasn’t on the tree lighting. Instead she wondered why Will wanted to steal her, but anything seemed better than watching her grandmother grimace with pain.
“No problem for me,” Judy said, supporting Ella’s calf as she lifted her leg. “Take a good half hour.”
Will beckoned to Christine.
She rose without argument and followed him into the hallway, admiring his broad shoulders yet concerned about his coy smile. “Where are you taking me?”
“Put on your coat and boots. It’s lesson time.”
Lesson time? “I’ve had about as many lessons as I need for one day. I’m a full-fledged therapist as we speak.”
Will grinned, and the look won her over.
“I have something in mind besides therapy.” He pointed toward the foyer. “Coat and boots.”
“Is that an order?”
He nodded and led the way.
“Daisy’s on the mainland, right? I’m not learning to horseback ride.”
“No, but you should learn how to use the sled in case you need to get away when I’m not here. I’ll just show you how to start it and take it for a short spin.” He gestured toward the doorway. “There’s new snow, and it’ll be a smooth ride.”
“Please, Will, I don’t want—”
“Shush!” He walked up behind her and slipped his hand over her mouth, his face against her hair. She heard him draw a deep breath. “You smell like cookies. Vanilla wafers?”
“It’s my lotion,” she said, feeling his warm breath on her cheek. “And I suppose I’d better bake some cookies, since I’ve seen you looking into the empty container.”
He turned her around, his eyes capturing hers. “I like cookies.”
But his eyes said he liked her, and the feeling wavered down her limbs. She looked away and wrapped a scarf around her neck. “Let’s get this over with. If I break a hip, then you’re going to be nursemaid to everyone.”
“You won’t break anything but a few hearts, Christine.”
A few hearts. Her pulse skipped, and she gave a sarcastic laugh, hoping their conversation would get back to normal. She hadn’t met a man in a long time who could rattle her equilibrium like Will.
He guided her through the kitchen to the porch. Her grandmother’s smaller sled sat beside his. She eyed it as if it were a rocket and she were going to the moon.
Though the snow had deepened, the sun felt warmer than the last time Christine had faced a snowmobile. She squinted at the light glinting from the fresh powdery crystals, then looked into the clear blue sky. She understood why David had written the Psalms. On days like this, if she were a poet, she would write a beautiful praise.
Her thoughts of the Lord surprised Christine as she moved through the snow. Perhaps a place like the island gave her more time to think about things other than competition and survival in the mad rush of life at home.
“I’ll warn you,” Christine said, “I can never start a lawn mower.”
Will grinned. “This one is different.” He stood beside the smaller sled, dangling a key. “It has a regular ignition. No pull starter.”
“Whew!” She adored his cute grin. “I’m relieved.”
Will patted the seat. She slipped into it and felt like a seasoned sledder.
He poked the key into the ignition. “Now pull out the choke about halfway.” He pointed to the right side of the handlebars. “It’s that tab marked by the circle with a diagonal line through it.”
Will was leaning so close to her, she breathed in his subtle scent of spice. He turned to look at her, his breath puffing in a white stream and blending with hers.
She steadied her emotions and did as he told her.
“That’s right,” he said.
His face, spotlighted by the sun, looked so handsome in the bright light. The creases she’d seen around his eyes seemed to have vanished.
“Now,” he said, turning back to the gauges, “when you turn the key and the engine sounds steady, push in the choke.” He chuckled. “Hopefully the sled will stay running on its own.”
“Okay,” Christine said, looking at all the gadgetry in front of her and doing as he’d told her. The sound of the engine hammered the afternoon air. She glanced at the floorboard. “But where’s the gas pedal and brake?”
He brushed his palm against her hair. “You’re too funny. It’s here.” He pointed to the handlebars. “Put your hands here and find the lever on the right side. That’s the throttle. Use your thumb to gain speed.”
“And the brake?” she asked, feeling more panicky.
“The lever on the left. The sled will slow automatically by releasing pressure on the throttle, especially in soft snow. That’s why I thought you should have the lesson today.”
“Throttle on the right. Brake on the left.”
“That’s it. And remember to lean into the turn. If you don’t, you can flip over.”
“Thanks,” she said, raising her hands in the air. “That’s enough lesson for me.”
He caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Come on. Be a sport.” He cupped his other hand around hers, and the warmth penetrated her gloves.
“If you want independence, you’ll need to ride this thing.”
Will walked away, slipped on his helmet and started the engine. He sat a moment before rolling forward and stopping beside her. “Ready?”
She covered her head with the helmet and drew in a hasty breath, her voice catching in her throat. She could only nod.
“Let’s go.” He motioned forward and glided down the driveway to the snow-covered road.
Christine followed his instructions as best she could remember, then jerked forward and stalled.
Will grinned and waited.
She started the engine again, and this time kept it going. As she rolled forward, Will shot onto the street.
Christine eased out to the road, fear and adventure knotted in every sinew. She pressed the throttle, and the sled gunned forward. Soon she was behind Will, feeling like a baby bird learning to fly.
The wind nipped at her nose, and each breath seemed to crystalize inside her lungs, but it awakened her spirit. She heard her laughter sail on the air. She couldn’t remember feeling so free and happy in a long time.
Ahead Will slowed, then made a great loop into a snow-covered field and headed back up Cupid’s Pathway. The street name made her grin. It sounded like a children’s tale of princes and princesses.
In only a few minutes, they returned home, and she felt disappointed the lesson was over. She parked and climbed off, her heart thundering in her chest and pride billowing in her heart. “Not bad,” she said, pulling off the helmet and shaking her hair free.
Will hurried to her side, drew her into his arms, lifted her above the ground, then plopped her back to earth.
She caught her breath, stunned at their play.
“You were wonderful,” he said. “The best student I’ve ever had.”
“And how many is that?”
“One, but you were very good.”
“Thanks. It was fun.”
His gaze searched hers and made her nervous. He was an attractive man.
“You look like a teenager,” Will said. “Look at those rosy cheeks and that sparkle in your eyes. You’re a beautiful woman, Christine.”
He’d taken her aback with his comment. “Forget that teenage comment. I’m far from that. I’ll accept the rosy cheeks. I can feel them burning.”
Will tilted her face upward and studied her again. “You’re timeless, I’d say.”
She felt her heart flutter, and the sensation set her on edge. What was she thinking? She checked her watch. “I think it’s time to get back in.”
He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Good job on the sled.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll put it in the stable and be heading back to work. I’ll pick you up later for the tree lighting.” He gave her a wink and pivoted away toward the sleds.
“See you later.” She gave a quick wave while her heart did a loop-the-loop.
The Christmas tree stood near the chamber of commerce building on Main Street. Christine’s eagerness grew as she watched the schoolchildren’s excitement as they gathered around the tree. Will stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.
The evening wind felt nippier than what she’d experienced earlier in the day; a chill prickled along her spine. Will moved beside her and slid his arm around her. He gave her an easy smile, and she smiled back, for once comfortable with his closeness.
Snowflakes began to fall like a picture-perfect Christmas scene. They drifted on the breeze and twirled on the chilling air. Will held her close, and she warmed at his touch.
The ceremony began, and soon the tree lights glowed, with cheers and oohs from those who were gathered. The friendly chatter and handshakes felt so different from the life she led at home. She shifted to leave, but Will held her close. “Now we sing carols.”
“Really?”
She saw the glow in his eyes and guessed the same glow was in hers. The music began and the children’s voices filled the crisp air with songs like “Joy to the World,” “Away in a Manger,” and “Silent Night.”
With each song, Will’s baritone voice joined the singers. At first, she sang with timidity, then found her voice lifting along with his. Joyous sounds filled with the spirit of the season—a kind of music and feeling she’d only thought of in dreams.
“Fun?” he asked.
“Wonderful.” She gazed into his eyes, sparkling brighter than the tree lights, and in the joy of the moment she had an urge to kiss him. “Thank you,” she said, tiptoing up to plant a quick kiss on his lips.
Though he looked surprised, he smiled. “Tell me what else I can do to win another one of those.”
She chuckled liked a schoolgirl, then caught herself. What was she doing? She was Christine Powers, businesswoman, devoted to her job, a dynamo in advertising. How could a tree-lighting ceremony three hundred miles from home turn her into a giggly teenager?
Will bent and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. I won’t forget tonight.”
She looked at the snowflakes resting on his hair, his beguiling smile, and the warmth in his eyes. She would never forget tonight, either.