Chapter 2 #3
There was the minty scent of snow, a pleasant musky odor that must have been him and, oddly, the smell of leather. His long black hair had come loose in the wind and it flowed around her face, surprisingly soft.
There was nothing soft about the body she was held against, though. It was like embracing steel. He’d pulled her tightly against himself as if he could absorb her wild trembling.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. She could feel the vibrations of his deep voice. “Nothing happened, it’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay, not by a long shot.
This was exactly how her parents had died—a bad snowstorm, black ice, a truck plowing into their car. A mangle of flesh and steel so horrendous it had taken the highway patrol six hours with the Jaws of Life to get their bodies out. There had barely been enough of her father to bury.
Caroline had woken up more nights than she could count in a sweat, imagining the last seconds of life of her parents.
The terror as they saw the truck looming suddenly out of the snow, the heart-sickening realization that it was too late.
Her father had been impaled on the steering wheel, his legs sheared off at the thighs.
Her mother had lived for two weeks, in a coma.
And Toby, poor Toby. Sweet, gentle Toby. Condemned to live the next six years of his life in a wheelchair, in constant pain, only to die before he reached his 20th birthday.
She saw that in her dreams, lived it, night after night after night. And in her nightmares was the constant presence of Death, coming to take her, too, as it had taken the rest of her family. She couldn’t hope to cheat it forever.
This had the dark, metallic taste of her nightmares, only it was real. But you learned to live with nightmares.
Caroline dug deep for control, found it, eased away from him.
“What was that?” Her voice was high-pitched and breathless.
She looked up into Jack’s face, dark and intent.
The only sign of stress was white lines of tension pinching his nostrils.
He was being brave, so should she. She drew in a shuddering breath and tried to keep her voice level. “What happened to the car?”
“Tire blew,” he answered grimly. “Front left.”
Oh God, no. Her tires were old and bald. Caroline had been putting off buying new tires, hoping to hang on for at least another month, knowing it was foolish and knowing she had no choice.
She’d nearly had them killed because she couldn’t afford new tires. And now one of them was flat.
It was just too much. Changing a tire in this weather. How on earth did you change a tire in a blizzard?
“Do you have a spare and a jack?” he asked.
“Yes.” The spare was as old as the other tires, but she did have one, and a jack. Considering the condition of everything else in her life, it was probably rusted and would snap in two in the cold.
It was so tempting to just put her forehead down on the steering wheel and weep out her rage and frustration, but as emotionally satisfying as it would be, it wouldn’t get them home.
A vicious blast of wind rocked the car and Caroline clutched Jack’s jacket for balance. Dear God, they couldn’t stay here while she dithered—they’d freeze to death. Caroline turned in her seat and put her hand on the door handle, hoping her hands would stop shaking soon.
“What do you think you’re doing?” That deep voice was harsh. Caroline looked over her shoulder in surprise. His brow was furrowed and he was frowning at her, the skin stretched tautly over his high cheekbones.
“Ah…” What did he think? They couldn’t stay here a moment longer than necessary. “Getting out to change the tire. We need to get home soon before the weather gets even worse. In a little while we won’t be able to drive in the streets.”
Night had fallen. The glow from the street lights couldn’t penetrate the snow and it was almost completely dark in the car. All she could see of him was the whites of his eyes and his white teeth. He touched her arm, briefly.
“Pop the trunk and stay in here. Don’t open your door, not even for a second.”
There wasn’t time to protest. The passenger side door opened briefly and he slipped out. In that one second that the door was open, a gust of wind blew a snow flurry into the car’s cabin, sucking out the heat. Caroline opened the trunk and heard metal clanging in the back.
A second later, he was at her front left fender, jacking the car up, working almost blind.
Every once in a while, the fierce wind would part the curtain of snow and she could see him, large and dark and intent, kneeling by the fender.
She switched on the overhead light, hoping it could help in some small degree, though she doubted it.
It probably comforted her more than helped him.
Sooner than she could have imagined possible, he was knocking at her window.
He bent to put his mouth close to the glass. “Do you want me to drive?” he shouted, his deep voice carrying above the howl of the wind.
Oh, God, yes! Yes, yes yes!
The hell with politically correct. The hell with duty. The thought of driving in this weather over black ice with her bald tires made her break out in a sweat. It was another accident just waiting to happen.
Caroline met his eyes through the glass and nodded.
“Scoot over and buckle up.” His hands were cupped around his mouth, but even so, his words barely carried.
He wasn’t going to make her get out and circle the car. Bless him. Caroline managed to make it over to the passenger seat without breaking her hip on the stick shift. Jack waited until she was in the seat and pulling the seat belt over her chest before opening the door.
He could barely fit his legs in the footwell and had to ratchet the seat back to its fullest extent, bringing it even with hers. He started the engine, letting it warm up.
Caroline turned to him, a large dark shadow in the dark. “That was quick. It would have taken me an hour in this weather, if I’d even be able to manage it at all.”
He looked over at her. One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, just a quick flash of white teeth. “I’ve changed a lot of tires under enemy fire. You learn to be fast.”
“I’ll just bet you do. Listen—” Caroline breathed deeply.
She owed him an apology. “I want to thank you for changing the tire. That was my responsibility and—oh, goodness, you’re hurt!
” Something dark and liquid gleamed on his right hand.
“Heavens, first you change my tire for me and then my car bites the hand that feeds it. I’m so sorry.
” She fumbled in the glove compartment and came out with tissues, which she held against his hand.
The tissue turned immediately dark red. He’d gashed his hand badly.
She changed tissues. “Hold that against your hand for about five minutes until the bleeding stops. You might need stitches, that’s a nasty cut.
We can stop at the emergency room of the hospital on the way. ”
“No.” The deep voice was gentle as he covered her hand with his. He squeezed lightly then lifted her hand away. His hand was strong, the touch light. “I heal fast, don’t worry about it. We need to get going now, or we won’t get home at all.”
“But your hand—”
“Is fine.” He switched the overhead light off, put the car in gear and stepped on the accelerator. In a moment, they had crossed back over to the right side of the road. “Don’t worry about my hand. Just direct me to your house. We need to get there as quickly as possible. Where do I turn?”
He did heal quickly. The deep gash had almost stopped bleeding.
Caroline peered out the window uncertainly, though visibility was nearly zero. It was impossible to tell where the intersections were. The only way to find out would be by crashing into a car.
“Keep on straight down this road for three quarters of a mile, then turn right. I’ll try to navigate for you.”
“Okay,” he said calmly. He was driving much faster than she had dared to. She would have said something—fast driving scared her—but he was clearly in total command of the car and the more quickly they got home, the happier she’d be.
She peered out the window, trying to discern landmarks.
It was haphazard at best. At times, a ferocious gust of wind lifted the snow curtain for just a second.
She saw the benches outside the railing along Grayson Park, then the big Christmas tree at the corner of Center Street and Fife, then—“Here,” she said suddenly, relieved. “Turn right here.”
He took the corner so smoothly, they might have been driving on a balmy summer evening. Caroline counted off lampposts and started to relax. Another five minutes, ten tops, and they’d be home. “The first left, the second right and it’s the fourth driveway on the right.”
The car pulled to a stop right in front of the garage. Caroline closed her eyes and breathed deeply for the first time since she’d gotten into the car.
Home. She was home.
Well, not quite yet. She stared ahead at the rusted garage door with near hatred.
Time for another apology. “I’m sorry,” she said contritely, digging in her purse for the keys, hands still shaking. “The remote doesn’t work. The door has to be opened manually. I’ll do it.”
“No.” He reached over and took the keys from her hand. “Don’t get out. I’ll take care of it.”
Her boiler was temperamental, but the garage door was utterly reliable. You could count on it not working. It took her muscle and time and many a chipped nail to turn the key in the rusty lock and lift the door.
Lit by the headlights, she watched him bend and lift the door as if were brand-new, freshly-oiled and weightless. A second later, they were safely in the garage.
Home. For real, now.
Caroline got out of the car and had to order her knees to stiffen. Her legs were shaking. All of her was shaking still from the near accident, a deep, almost uncontrollable tremor. The keys were rattling in her hand. She had to clench her fist closed to stop the noise.
“Thank you,” she said again to the big man, over the roof of the car. She met his eyes, dark and inscrutable. “I owe you—”
He held up a huge hand and shook his head. “Please don’t. Let’s just get inside.” He picked up his bags and her briefcase. “Lead the way. I’ll follow you.”
Caroline opened the door to the house, fingers crossed, tense, expecting the worst.
Thank God, the worst hadn’t happened. Yet.
The air was not quite freezing, there was a low hum from somewhere under her feet and she could relax a little.
The boiler hadn’t gone off today. She kept it on a minimum setting so the pipes wouldn’t freeze, which they did regularly when the boiler went on the blink.
But today the gods of heating were smiling down at her, as well they should, considering the number they’d pulled on her last week.
The temperature was uncomfortably cool, but as long as the boiler was working, it was okay. She’d turn the thermostat up and in half an hour the whole house would be warm.
Her heating bills were atrocious, but heating not something she was prepared to skimp on. Not, certainly, with a new boarder. And definitely not in the middle of a blizzard.
She led Jack through the mud room into the big, two-story atrium.
Entering was always a delight. Designed by a disciple of Frank Lloyd Wright, every room of Greenbriar was light, spacious, perfectly proportioned.
The atrium was simply spectacular. An old friend of the family had once said that Greenbriar was like a beautiful woman and the atrium was her face.
When her parents had been alive, there had been two Winslow Homers, a Ming vase, a Murano chandelier and an immense antique Baluchi carpet in the atrium.
All long gone.
The only thing left was the airiness and grace of the room itself with its black and white marble flooring, arches leading to the library, the living room and her study and the big, graceful, winding maple staircase leading to the bedrooms on the second floor.
Through all the tough years gone by, through Toby’s long, painful illness and death, through all the sadness and hardship, entering Greenbriar never failed to lift her spirits.
Greenbriar was alive to her, and was in many ways the last family member left to her.
She’d fought ferociously to keep it, even when everyone—starting from the family lawyer who’d had to tell her that there was no money in the bank, Jenna, her best friend, who thought she was nuts to stick by Greenbriar, Sanders, who quickly grew annoyed that she had to pinch pennies—everyone said to sell.
Caroline would have sold Greenbriar only to save Toby’s life, but he died before it became necessary.
And now—well, now Greenbriar was her only connection with her family and her only solace.
She was tied by unbreakable links of love to the place.
To sell it would be to deny the people she’d loved so much. Selling was unthinkable.
As long as she had a breath in her body, Greenbriar would be hers. Cost what it may.
She watched Jack Prescott as he took in his surroundings. People reacted in different ways to the mansion. Some people’s jaws dropped. Some were blasé. Some didn’t even understand how beautiful it was and saw only a big house that needed painting and repair work and new furniture.
It was a litmus test.
His reaction was perfect. He stood in silence for a minute, dark eyes taking in the architectural details, then he turned to her. “What a beautiful place. Thank you for accepting me as a boarder.”
Yes, perfect. Caroline smiled up at him. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. The double room is on the third floor, under the eaves. I’ll show you the way.”
He shook his head. “Don’t go up two flights of stairs for my sake. Tell me how to get there and I’ll be fine.”
Oh, God. What a relief. The worst of the trembling was over, but her legs were still shaking.
“Go up the main staircase, turn right and you’ll find another staircase at the end of the hallway that will take you up to your room.
It has an en suite bathroom that’s yours alone.
The sheets are clean and you’ll find clean towels in the big white cabinet in the bathroom.
You should have enough hot water for a shower. Dinner’s at seven thirty.”
“Thank you.” He inclined his head. “I’ll be down at seven thirty,” he said, then turned and took the stairs two at a time, moving fast. Caroline watched his broad back until he disappeared, hoping she’d done the right thing, knowing that she’d had no choice.