Christmas In Snowflake Canyon (22 page)

“Thank you for the advice. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Are you ready to start hiding things away?”

“I guess we need to, unless we want everybody to find their presents early this year.”

He picked up an armload and started down the hall. She followed him with her own arms full.

“For the record,” she said as they returned for another load, “I’m glad things worked out for you the way they did. You and Charlotte seem very happy together.”

His smile was bright, filled with such joy that sharp envy pinched at her. “We are. In fact, we’re getting married next summer.”

“Congratulations.”

She meant the words. She liked and admired Charlotte and could tell she already loved Spence’s daughter, Peyton.

For a moment, she was tempted to tell him about Trey’s ex-fiancée flying in the next day, but Dylan had filled her with such anxious doubts she decided to keep her mouth shut for now.

B
y noon the next day, she was a nervous wreck. Throughout the morning, Jenna had been texting her to update her on her travel progress.

In Chicago.
Ready to board connection. Landed in Denver.
Renting a car.

She had texted back travel instructions and encouraging words, but now that the critical moment was approaching she could hardly breathe around her anxiety.

She should have texted Jenna to board the next plane back to Atlanta and forget the whole thing.

She couldn’t bear this suspense. She really hoped Trey would be thrilled to see the woman he loved, would realize his mistake in pushing her away. She tried to focus on their conversation about Jenna that had started the whole thing. He had spoken of her with such tender emotion—and she had seen the loneliness in his eyes as he looked at all these other family units.

That was what she hoped would happen.

At the same time, she was very much afraid he would be furious and find the whole thing a cruel scheme aimed at snarling his life.

“How much longer before the fireworks show?” Dylan asked when they walked inside the recreation center for the lunch catered by one of Brodie Thorne’s restaurants.

They hadn’t spoken privately since the morning before and simply the sound of his voice filled her with longing. She firmly tamped it down.

“I hope there won’t be fireworks, except the romantic kind.”

He made a gruff, cynical sound, sending ripples of worry through her all over again.

“It won’t be long now. She’s about fifteen miles outside of town.”

“Funny. For someone trying so hard to earn her cupid wings, you don’t sound very excited.”

She gave a weak smile, wishing with all her heart she had never sent that email. “Life was much safer when I only cared about myself.”

To her astonishment, he reached out and took her fingers in his. “You know anything about physics?”

“Not really. I think I skipped that class for cheerleading practice.”

He probably had no idea how much courage his slight smile gave her. “I’m sure you’ve heard Newton’s first law that an object in motion tends to stay in motion.”

“I did pick that up somewhere. Again, maybe cheerleading practice. And an object at rest tends to stay at rest, right? In other words, I should have just minded my own business and left well enough alone.”

“It’s too late for regrets, Gen. You set the boulder tumbling down the hill. Now you just have to wait and see which way it’s going to land.”

“What if it crashes onto my head?”

He squeezed her fingers, then to her further astonishment, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave her a heartbreaking smile. “Then you can fit right in with the rest of us bruised and broken souls.”

She didn’t know how to convince him she didn’t see him as broken. He was a good man. Rough around the edges, maybe, and certainly cynical. But she had watched him this week with the others. Though he claimed in the beginning he wanted nothing to do with A Warrior’s Hope, she had seen him exhibit amazing patience to everyone coming through the program. He was playful with the children, kind to the spouses and parents and understanding with the wounded veterans.

She wanted to tell him all the things she had discovered about him but this didn’t seem the moment, not when she knew Jenna Baldwin would arrive any moment.

“He’s going to hate me, isn’t he?”

He sighed. “Maybe. Not much we can do about that now. But even if he’s furious, I hope some part of him understands you thought you were doing something in his best interest.”

He paused. “It’s too late now, anyway.”

She followed the direction of his gaze to find a young woman standing in the doorway with a hopeful, nervous expression on her pretty, sweet-natured face.

Dylan squeezed her fingers again. “Guess it’s showtime.”

In thIrty-sIx hours of fretting, why hadn’t she planned ahead enough to arrange a more private reunion between the two of them?

She still could. Trey had gone outside with a couple of others to photograph the bull moose that had lately taken to hanging around the recreation center, browsing on whatever water plants were still alive in the icy river.

She could head Jenna off, move her to a more private setting and then bring Trey in when he returned.

Amazing, how calming a plan could be.

She hurried over to greet the woman. To her surprise, Dylan walked over with her, despite his objections to the whole thing. She wanted to hug him, deeply grateful for his strength and support.

“Hi. You must be Jenna. I’m Genevieve Beaumont. This is Dylan Caine.”

Jenna was even prettier up close, delicate and lovely, though her features were strained and she had circles under her eyes that looked as if they had been there for some time.

She twisted her fingers together. “Hello.” She smiled nervously, looking fresh and sweet—all the things Genevieve wasn’t. Why on earth had Trey ever said she reminded him of this gentle-looking woman? Yes, their hair color was the same and they both had the same blue eyes, but that was the only resemblance.

On impulse, she reached in and hugged the woman. After the past thirty-six hours, she felt as if she knew her well. Gen was certainly invested in the success of this little endeavor, financially and emotionally.

“How was your flight?”

Jenna gave a shaky little laugh. “To be honest, I have no idea. I feel like I’ve been in a daze since I spoke with you yesterday. Everything has happened so quickly. I… How can I ever thank you?”

Don’t thank me yet.

“Don’t worry about that.”

Jenna craned her neck to look around the room, where Elena and Ricardo and the Augustines were still eating lunch. “Is he here? I don’t see him.”

Dylan spoke up. “He just stepped out a moment ago. We’ve had a moose wandering around the grounds for the last few days and several guests went out to take pictures of it down in the river. He should be up any minute now. Can I take your coat? Would you like something to eat or drink?”

Warmth stirred in her chest at this sweet, noncynical side of Dylan he showed so rarely.

“I… Thank you.” She handed him her coat. “Some water would be good. I’m afraid I couldn’t eat breakfast or lunch. I’ve been so nervous all day, I haven’t been able to swallow anything.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Dylan walked over to the table where the food had been set out buffet-style.

“I’m so anxious, I can hardly breathe.”

“Everything will be fine. You’ll see.” She had nothing to base that particular statement on except hope, which seemed pretty flimsy right now, all things considered.

“What if he doesn’t want me here? What if he hasn’t reconsidered anything and still won’t give me a chance?”

Genevieve shared the very same fear, but she couldn’t say that now, in front of this young woman who seemed so pale, fragile as an antique blown-glass ornament.

“Then he will be making a terrible mistake.”

Jenna rested a hand on her arm. “Thank you for this, Genevieve. Everything you’ve done.”

She thought about her life merely a month ago in Paris, shopping and decorating her apartment, sewing what she wanted, visiting with friends. All the things she thought were so important. That time seemed a world away—and not merely geographically.

One afternoon when she had nothing else to do, she had wandered into a gallery in the Sixth Arrondissement and had watched an artist create an exquisite papiermâché sculpture, taking a simple wire-mesh frame and adding strip after strip of adhesive-soaked paper until the result was a thing of substance and beauty.

She wanted to think she was like that sculpture, in the process of adding her own layers upon layers. She was a different person than she had been a month ago. She wouldn’t go back. She couldn’t.

“You’re welcome,” she murmured, giving Jenna another hug.

Dylan returned with the water glass. “Why don’t we see if we can find a quiet room somewhere for Jenna to wait, away from the crowd?”

“Yes. I think the office next to Spencer’s should be available.”

Gen started for the door. Before she made it more than a few feet, she heard voices and laughter in the hall and realized they had acted too late. Everyone was returning from outside. She could hear Trey’s voice and realized how horribly wrong this could all go, throwing Jenna at him like this, without warning, in front of everyone.

She wanted to stand in front of the woman, to shield her from view and from Trey’s wrath.

Pam and her, fiancé, Kevin walked in first, holding hands, as usual. Joe and Tonya came in next, Claudia riding in her favorite place of honor on her father’s lap and the quieter Marisol walking beside her mother behind the wheelchair.

Behind them came Trey, wheeling in with his usual cheerful smile.

Gen was aware of Jenna’s sharp inhale beside her. Out of the corner of her gaze, she caught the other woman’s expression: stark longing and love and sorrow, all jumbled together.

She could certainly relate to that.

He hadn’t noticed them yet. “Man, I’ve never seen a moose that close before. I can’t believe the size of that guy. I really thought he was going to come after you.”

Tonya snorted. “Are you kidding? He wasn’t even close. I was still at least thirty feet away from those big antlers. Anyway, you should see how fast I can move when I have to.”

Joe’s laugh was warm and infectious. “She’s not kidding. Just a few weeks ago, Marisol wandered off for a minute at Walmart. T was a blur racing through those aisles. Found her in the book section, of course. Where else?”

His voice trailed off when he must have realized Trey wasn’t listening to him—he was staring at the woman standing numbly beside Genevieve.

He wheeled a few feet in their direction, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, then stopped when he was still several yards away.

“Jenna! What is this?”

Genevieve’s heart was in her throat. She couldn’t read anything on his features—not pleasure or anger or anything. It was like staring at that papier-mâché sculpture.

Jenna gave him a wobbly smile. “Hi, Trey. You look great.”

“You look…here.”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “Merry Christmas.”
“Why are you here?”
Since he hadn’t moved beyond those first few feet,

Jenna walked toward him, her hands still twisted together in front of her.

No one else but Dylan knew exactly what was going on, but somehow they must have sensed something significant was happening. Everyone fell silent, even the little ones.

Trey was usually so affable and good-natured. Just now, though, his jaw was tight, his mouth unsmiling. He looked every inch the hardened soldier.

“Why are you here?” he repeated, his voice harsh.

“To see you,” she whispered. “To…I don’t know, make you see sense.”

“Sense.” The word came out hard, sharp, like a rock striking a tree trunk.

“Yes.” She moved forward and spoke softly. “I missed you, Trey. So much.”

For just a moment, he gazed at her with raw yearning before his expression shuttered again.

“How did you find me?” he demanded.

She didn’t answer, but her gaze subtly shifted to Genevieve before turning back to Trey. “Does it matter? I had to come. Sunday was supposed to be our wedding day. December twenty-second. I still have all the invitations.”

“You should have burned them,” he said harshly.

Her chin trembled a little, but she quickly firmed it again, earning even more of Genevieve’s respect. She wasn’t sure she could face a man who had dumped her, especially in front of nearly a dozen witnesses.

“You can run away all you want, Trey Evans, but it won’t change the fact that I still love you, no matter what. I still want to marry you, to start a family with you.”

His expression turned even more bleak and wintry, if possible. He shifted to Genevieve.

“You did this, didn’t you? This is why you’ve been so jumpy the last few days. What the hell? You had no right.”

“I know.” The audacity of her actions was indefensible, and she was suddenly miserable, horrified at what she had set in motion and the additional pain she might have caused the two of them. “It’s just…you were all alone. I thought… I wanted to make you happy. A wonderful Christmas gift.”

“More like a Christmas nightmare,” he growled.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere a little more private where we can talk,” Dylan suggested.

“Good idea.” Spencer Gregory had come into the room in the middle of the drama. He looked baffled but had obviously picked up enough hints to guess at what might be going on—at least enough to give Genevieve a
you’reinbigtrouble
sort of look.

“What’s the point? I don’t have one damn thing to talk about. I didn’t ask for this. Once, Jenna and I were engaged. We broke things off. End of story.”

“You broke things off and left without even telling me where you were. You didn’t even give me a chance to change your mind—you just ran away.”

“I didn’t run away. I was transferring to the rehab facility in San Antonio. And what would have been the point of dragging things out? You
can’t
change my mind.”

“Trey—”

“I don’t want to marry you. Is that clear enough for you? I’m sorry you came all this way from Georgia, but it was a wasted trip. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t love you. I don’t know if I ever loved you.”

Jenna swayed a little, color leaching from her features. “I…see.”

Genevieve suddenly remembered the other woman hadn’t eaten. She grabbed for her elbow and felt the vibration of her trembling through her sweater and blouse.

Her heart ached at what she had done. Dylan was watching the whole thing with a resigned expression, as if everything had happened just as he’d expected.

She thought of how hard he was pushing her away, just like Trey pushed Jenna away. She wasn’t as brave as Jenna. Her feelings were so new, so raw, she hadn’t confessed them to Dylan. She probably never would— but she suddenly knew that if she ever did, Dylan would react just as Trey had, lashing out from a place of pain and loss instead of seeing hope and possibilities.