Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge (17 page)

It was this pain which she came to face, and
with it the foresight to a long and lonely life, for she knew with
surprising assuredness her heart would belong to no one else.

A loud painful howl came from the November
wind outside her window. Putting her book down, Laura sensed the
forlorn wail could have been her own. Soon it would be December and
with the wintry month came Christmas. She wasn't sure if she had
gathered enough strength to face another holiday alone, but she
couldn't hide from the outside world much longer. She needed to
leave soon, to get her life back in order. How, she wasn't sure,
but knew she needed to get a job and a place over her head.

Pushing the afghan aside, she slid her feet
into a pair of slippers and crossed the cold floor to the kitchen.
She just passed the threshold when the lights flickered and went
out. The storm obviously taken out the few hydro poles
crisscrossing the wooded shoreline. Thankfully, Laura was prepared,
lighting the thick candle waiting on the kitchen table in such an
event. She returned to the living room, checked the fire was still
burning warmly, then sat back on the couch with the afghan curled
around her, and the candle perched on the nearest table giving her
light to read.

She had only read a couple of pages when a
noise from outside caught her attention. At first she thought it
was the wind thrashing against the cottage walls, then realized it
was the actual physical thumping of either a large animal or
person.

Not having seen a single sole since her
arrival, Laura pictured an enormous and angry bear in search of
food and shelter. Nervously, she searched her surroundings for some
type of weapon. Her eyes fell upon the beady eyes of the elk. “Some
good you'll do.”

The thumping reached the front of the house
and was now nearing the cottage's entrance. Laura held her breath,
then leaped into action. Grabbing the cast iron poker from the
fireplace, she quietly approached the entrance, poker posed above
her head ready to kill.

It all happened so quickly, she hadn't a
moment’s thought. The heavy wooden door swung open and a large dark
form loomed forebodingly, the wind howling directly behind it.
Instinctively, Laura screamed then with all her strength, brought
the poker forcibly down.

Just before the blow reached her victim, it
raised its head and cried out, “What the—”

Shock struck her, after she struck him.
“Dexter?”

He moved but not nearly fast enough, the edge
of the poker caught a corner of his face. Immediately, he collapsed
to his knees, crying out in pain.

Aghast, Laura dropped the poker and fell to
her knees beside him. “Oh God, are you all right?”

He was still conscious, unbelievably. Foul
language rolled off his tongue as he angrily placed a hand against
the infliction. When he removed it, Laura nearly fainted. It was
covered in blood.

“Oh God.” Tears stung her eyes. “I'm so
sorry.”

Furious eyes shot to her anguished
expression, then dropped to her tear streaked cheeks, before
jerking to his feet. “You stupid woman, you nearly killed me.”

“Let me help you.” She grasped his elbow in
unsteady hands.

“Don't touch me!” he barked. “You've done
enough damage.”

He moved forward and stumbled over something.
“For pity's sake, turn some damn lights on.”

“I-I can't, the hydro has gone out.”

He cursed again. “Is that why it's so damn
cold in this place?”

“Come near the fireplace and get warm.” She
led him to the couch and watched as he dropped lifelessly against
the pillows. Pang pierced her heart even as he growled up at
her.

“Well, don't just stand there, get me some
warm water and clean towels. There's a first aid kit—”

“I know, I know.” She quickly turned and
hurried out of the room. In the kitchen she found the first aid
kit, a large bowl to fill with warm water, and plenty of clean
towels.

Five minutes later she returned, placing the
bowl on a nearby table and began soaking a cloth. Turning on her
knees, she reached up to begin cleaning the wound, when he snatched
her wrist in a fierce grip. “I think I can manage without your
help.”

Hurt, but allowing him to remove the cloth
from her hand, she watched in grief as he cleansed his wounded
mouth, his face grimacing in pain. Without realizing it, she began
crying all over again. It wasn't until he finished then returned
the cloth to her when he noticed her tears.

“Now what?” He tried to look angry but
appeared more troubled.

Crying harder, she sobbed, “I'm so sorry, I
didn't mean to hurt you.”

With a steady gaze he stared at her
blubbering face for many silent minutes, when at last he muttered,
“Could you help me with the bandage?”

She nodded, still crying, as she removed the
large square adhesive from its package. Cried even harder as she
placed it over the wound and caused him to flinch.

Without warning, and entirely out of
character, he suddenly took pity on her. Reaching up, he placed his
hands around her waist and drew her into his embrace. The result
made her tears increase. At this point, however, Laura was almost
sure it had nothing to do with the wound.

“It's not that bad. It just hurts slightly.”
He spoke above her head. “It could have been worse.”

She stayed there many minutes before her
crying was under control and she was able to pull herself together.
But even then, she didn't want to leave the warm and safe haven of
his arms. A place she was hardly allowed to visit.

Gently, he began to pull her away. “Feeling
better?”

She nodded.

“Good.” An uncustomary smile peeked out of
the unwounded side of his mouth. “Look, if I ever need my house
guarded, I know who to call.”

“That's not funny.” She punched him in the
arm.

“Ouch! What are you trying to do, torture me
until the bitter end?”

“That didn't hurt.”

“How do you know what makes me hurt?” He
became cold once again, and unexpectedly serious. “God knows I
deserve it.”

Laura looked up. “What?”

He paused, weighing what he would say next,
then decided on, “I didn't say anything.”

Glancing around the room, he took in his
surroundings. “If the hydro has gone out, I suggest you don't let
the fire burn out. The electric baseboard heaters will be
useless.”

“Oh, I didn't think of that.” She got to her
feet. “I better go get some wood.”

His head snapped up. “Out there, in that? Are
you crazy?”

“Well I have no replenishment. I'll have
to.”

“No replenish—” Aghast, he turned his
attention back to the now empty stack of wood near the fireplace.
Getting to his feet, he muttered, “Of all the idiotic—”

“I said I'd get it.”

“I'll be damned if I'll leave my well-being
in your incompetent hands.”

“Well I never asked you—” Her words dropped
off as a thought occurred to her. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. And where
the devil have you been all this time?” He moved over to the door.
Laura followed quietly behind him.

“Right here. Your mother was so nice as to—”
She stopped speaking as well as walking. “Wait a minute. Why did
you ask where I’ve been? Have you been looking for me? Did your
mother tell you where to find me?”

“Hardly. She’s been very tight-lipped where
you are concerned.” He gave her a displeased look before
continuing. “I needed to get away. And what I believed to be
solitude turns out to be already occupied. I'd leave except for one
minor detail.”

“The storm,” she stated.

“Make that two minor details. The last gas
station before here was closed. I thought I’d make it before I ran
out, but my car stalled along the county road. I had to walk the
rest of the distance to get here.”

“Oh.”

Silently she watched as he opened the door
again and disappeared from sight. She felt a pang of guilt. With
his injury, she really should have gone. Biting her lip, she waited
anxiously for his return.

At last a big yellow wheelbarrow loaded with
firewood, followed by a windblown snow-covered Dexter pushed opened
the door.

Anxiously, she followed him back to the
fireplace and began unloading the wood hoping he would remove his
wet garments and dry himself in front the warm fire. However, he
didn't. Instead he retraced his steps, returning five minutes later
with a new load of wood, repeated the routine until at last the
stack was refilled once again.

When at last he did remove his wet coat and
soaking boots, the first words out of his mouth were, “I'b beat.
I'b boing beb.”

“Pardon?” She frowned, then her eyes widened
in horror. “Your injured mouth, it froze. You can't speak.”

He simply nodded his head, then turned to
leave.

“Where are you going?”

Frustrated, he gestured upstairs.

“You can't sleep up there. The bedrooms are
freezing.”

He closed his eyes and Laura could almost
hear him counting to ten in an effort to compose his temper.

Quickly, she stated, “There's a pull-out
couch here in the living room. It's quite warm in front of the
fireplace.”

His dark eyes shot her a look.

She frowned, puzzled. “What?”

“Wheb you sweeb?”

Frowning harder, she attempted to understand
his garbled words. “I don't understand.”

Sighing in frustration, he gestured toward
the couch, then jutted a finger in her chest then pointed the same
finger back at the couch.

Laura's eyes grew in shock. “How dare you? I
wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last—”

Dexter shot his eyes heavenward before
turning to the other couch, which did not pull out, and dropped his
big weight on it.

Ashamed, Laura bit her lip. He wanted her to
take the sofa bed. “Thank you. Though I think it best if you sleep
here. What with your injury and all.”

He sat up angrily. “I'b hurb my moub, I'b not
pawawized!”

Again she shook her head.

Totally perturbed by this point, he stupidly
tried to clarify, “I'b hurb my mout—@#&*!” Though the words
were unclear, the cry was not. Immediately, she went to him.

“Don't talk, you'll only open the wound
again.”

The look he shot her was utter annoyance.

Wanting only to heal, she reached up and
gently placed a finger alongside the bandage.

She half expected him to angrily thrust her
hand aside but, instead, was surprised to discover he allowed her
to tenderly stroke his swollen lip. Her eyes focused only on his
lips, with the flickering shadows of the fire dancing across his
handsome yet stern face.

It occurred to Laura then that he had gone
completely still. Overcome with emotion, she allowed her feelings
to take over her good sense. Gingerly, she trailed her fingertips
down and off the adhesive and on to the soft moist swelling of his
bottom lip. Beneath her touch, she felt him tense then release an
unsteady breath as his lip quivered against her fingers. Worried
she might have offended, she snapped her hand back.

Bewildered, she felt that same hand gently
retrieved and placed back against his lips. Lifting her eyes, she
came face to face with a man she had never seen before. His
wonderful hazel eyes were mingled with dismay, desire and yes, even
desperation. Quickly he dropped his gaze and closed the shutters on
his emotions. And yet, he did not remove her hand. Instead, he
began placing tiny flutter of kisses against their fingertips
sending a shiver of delight up her arm.

With his other hand he reached up and began
blindly tracing his own fingers across her dazed lips. She gasped
at the unexpected desire his touch evoked. He noted her reaction,
giving the smallest devilish grin at the corner of his good mouth.
Then with expertise, he allowed his lips to leave her fingertips,
down their long sinewy lengths, across her now sweaty palm and
around the pulsating nerves of her tiny wrist.

At this, an unsteady gasp escaped her throat
and fluttered across his rugged fingers still delighting in a
leisurely exploration of her lips. Seizing the opportunity, he slid
one finger into the folds of her moist mouth. Startled, Laura's
eyes widened in shock at the unexpected arousal from such a simple
act. Then acting on instinct, for it certainly could not have been
anything else, she closed her lips around the rough skin of his
masculine finger and began a sensual sucking both with her lips and
tongue.

To her surprise, Dexter's face suddenly went
irate as he snatched his hand back. “Wherb youb learb dab?”

“Pardon?” Shaken, both by his unexpected
withdrawal as well as her unexpected arousal, she could only
blankly stare at him.

He cursed again, jumping to his feet.

“Dexter, what is it? What's wrong?” Color
flooded her face. “If you didn't like that, I can stop.”

Pivoting in fury he glared at her. “Bibn't
wike it? Whab hob-bobbed—”

“Dexter I can't understand--”

Like a mad man he reached for her. “How many
otter men?”

This she got the gist of. Her eyes grew in
horror. “There are no otter-other men. How dare you? I'm about to
give myself to you and the first thing you do is insult me. You
were right all along, you are a cold cad.”

She jumped to her feet and would have spun
around, when he unexpectedly reached out and grabbed her upper
arms, pulling her painfully into his embrace. Without a moment’s
pause, his cold cynical mouth came crashing down on hers. But it
only lasted a brief moment as a sharp reminder had him crying out
in pain, pulling away with a hand to his injured mouth.

Tears stung his eyes and Laura couldn't help
but feel pity. “Are you all right?”

When he didn't respond, she added in a low
voice, “You deserved that.”