Chapter 6
Chapter Six
MARLEY
“Do I need to call someone?” I blurt out. Seeing her awake is worse than when she was sleeping. Now her dark green eyes are looking at me, and I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
“Call someone? Like a husband?”
“You’re not married.” I don’t know why I’m saying it like a statement of fact, when she could actually be married. The idea of her belonging to anyone but me is ridiculous. Maybe that’s why it comes out like I’m disagreeing with her.
“No, I’m definitely not.” She mumbles something to herself about dating apps and being catfished, but the relief I feel is immense. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because you can’t leave.” I clear my throat and try not to sound like I’m trying to kidnap her. Well, as far as she knows. “The storm is bad, so there’s no way you could possibly leave for at least three days. Maybe more.”
That’s not entirely true, I’ve got a plow in my shed, and the snow is always much worse up here on top of the mountain than down in Cheerful. If she looks outside, it will be much worse here than it is down below, but I need time with her.
“Wait, what about Christmas?” Her voice gets high-pitched and panicky.
“Do you have someone we should call to tell them you won’t make it?” Part of me feels bad that she might be missing the holidays with her family. The other part is telling me to tie her up so she can’t run away. Okay, maybe I’ve been writing horror novels for too long.
“No.” Her shoulders sag, and I immediately kneel down beside the couch.
“What’s wrong, Belle? Who hurt you? Tell me and I’ll make them pay.”
She smiles at me, and the offer to hurt someone seems to cheer her up.
“I don’t have family or anyone that’s waiting for me.
Besides work.” She cringes at the mention of her job.
“I should probably call and tell them I won’t be back with the book anytime soon.
I’m just not sure I want to be fired this close to Christmas. ”
“They won’t fire you. I’ll make sure of it. Give me their number and I’ll take care of it,” I say, getting out my phone.
“You’d do that for me?” Her pretty eyes light up, and I nod.
“I’d do anything for you, Belle.” The words come out easily, and I’ve never felt anything truer.
“You’re being so kind to me,” she says, and it looks like she’s going to burst into tears.
“Don’t cry,” I order and stand up quickly. “How can I make you happy?”
Belle laughs a little as she wipes away a stray tear. “Maybe we can bring my snowman out here so it’s a bit more festive.” She glances at my living room, and I can see the edge of disappointment that I don’t have any decorations.
“I wasn’t expecting company over Christmas,” I admit. “I always spend it alone, working.”
“Your home is beautiful. I was just thinking about all my Christmas decorations that I won’t get to enjoy. But it’s fine, I can look at them when I get back.”
She’s already thinking about leaving, so I have to do something to stop her.
Looking at the sparsely decorated living room, I wish it was more festive.
Then maybe she’d never want to leave. I keep my home clean, but it’s only ever been me, so I never bothered to decorate any time of year, let alone Christmas.
“I can come up with something,” I tell her, already trying to think about what I have around the house I can use.
“Oh! I forgot! The ladies in town sent some stuff for you. It’s in my car. It looked like decorations.”
“What?”
My brow furrows as I think about why they would do something like that.
Did they know I would be up here all alone over Christmas?
Any time I’ve gone into town, they try to stop me to get me to join in on their celebrations.
I’m not much of a joiner. I’m more like the person that walks by and sees something happening and thinks, Oh that looks like fun, and then keeps on walking.
“Yeah, I didn’t get to see what it was, but maybe something in there could work.” She says this and then immediately backtracks. “You know what? Never mind. It’s not a big deal. This is your house, and I shouldn’t get to dictate what you do or don’t do.”
“If a dancing snowman will make you happy, then that’s what you’ll get,” I tell her as I stomp into the bedroom and grab it for her. I feel a rush of anger at everyone that has made this beauty cower in fear of things she loves and made her hide what she enjoys.
When I get back to the living room, I put the snowman on the coffee table and step back. “Better?”
“Um, are you mad at me?” She bites her bottom lip nervously, and I turn around to see if she’s talking to someone else.
“Mad at you?” I want to tell her I’m besotted, not angry. “No, I’m mad that someone made you feel like you couldn’t have nice things.”
I tap the button on the top of the snowman, and the room fills with holiday music while he starts dancing. Then I go over to the door and grab my coat.
“Where are you going?” she asks, turning on the couch.
“I’m going to get the rest of the decorations. Don’t move.”
With that, she slumps down on the couch, but I see the smile that stretches across her face and how happy I’ve made her. Right then and there I make a vow to do that as much as possible.