Home for the Holidays (9 page)

Collier pulled Iris into the doorway to the ice cream shop, kissing her passionately. She anchored her arms under his shoulders over a waist-length black leather jacket, leaned into him and devoured his mouth, her tongue dueling with his for dominance.

“Yo, Scrappy, get a room before I tell the sheriff and have you arrested for lewd behavior.”

Iris went completely still, then managed to relax when Collier chuckled softly. “Get the hell outta here, Leon, before Scrappy decides to whoop yo ass.”

“Yo, Scrappy, ain't you going to introduce me to your woman?”

“Beat it, Leon.” This time there was no teasing in his voice.

“Okay, man. Be like that.”

Iris kept her face averted until the man Collier called Leon walked away. “What was that all about?” she whispered.

Palming her face between his hands, Collier smiled. “It was just a little harmless fun.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “It didn't sound like fun to me.”

“Leon's harmless. He had a brilliant career as a commercial airline pilot but messed up when he couldn't stay sober. Now he's teaching aeronautical aviation at one of North Charleston's trade schools. I would've introduced you to him, but I could smell the alcohol on his breath.”

“Did he relapse?”

“He's what you would call a functioning alcoholic. I've heard that they won't sell him liquor at the store here in the Cove, and they won't serve him any at Happy Hour, so he probably got someone to buy him a bottle.”

“How does he get to his job?”

“He takes the ferry, then a bus. Every town, no matter how small, has its share of drunks, deadbeat dads, and cheating husbands and wives.”

Turning around, Iris leaned back against Collier's chest. “I must be an ostrich with my head in the sand because I never met anyone like those folks.”

Collier wrapped arms around her waist over her jacket. “That's because you're a newcomer. Live here for the next ten or twenty years and you'll see everything that happens in a larger city.”

She shivered slightly when his breath feathered over the top of her ear. “I can't think that far ahead.”

“Didn't you tell me you wanted to buy property here?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that means you intend to put down roots.”

Iris smiled. “That sounds about right.” She wanted to put down roots, marry again, and have a couple of children. She wanted all of the things she'd fantasized about as a girl, but only with Collier. She'd fallen in love with him, knowing their relationship would end in less than two weeks. She wanted to become Mrs. Collier Ward, have his babies, go to bed with him every night, bring their children to the Winter Wonderland Festival, celebrate holidays with the friends and family, and grow old together. But she knew that wasn't possible because just when she'd found a man to love he wasn't available for anything long term.

Resting his hands on her shoulders, Collier turned her around to face him. “Why do you sound so doubtful? Either you are or you aren't.”

“I can't answer that until I buy the house. Let's go, sweetie. I want to stop at Jack's and get a bowl of okra gumbo; then I want to see if we can find Tracy and Layla in this crowd before we go home.”

The year before she'd watched the festival from her living room window, wanting to join in the festivities, but had held back when she saw couples and families together. It had been the first time in her life she experienced what it felt like to be totally alone. Like a child with his or nose pressed against the window of a department store window, she'd watched carolers, moving along Main Street, singing the traditional and a few modern Christmas songs, horse-drawn sleighs filled with children laughing and squealing in delight, and while not one to engage in self-pity, Iris drew the drapes and went into the family room to watch several of her favorite comedic movies.

“This reminds me of New York City during Christmas,” Collier said quietly. “The last time I was there it was snowing heavily, but that didn't seem to bother the skaters at Rockefeller Center.”

Iris huddled closer to Collier. “It's been a while since I've been to the Big Apple.”

“Maybe we'll get to go together whenever I get my next leave.”

She glanced up at him. “That will depend on my work schedule.”

“Of course.”

They didn't have to go very far to find Tracy when Iris's cell vibrated in her jacket pocket. “Hey,” she said when she saw Tracy's name come up on the screen. “Where are you?”

“We're in the square hanging out by the carolers.”

“Collier and I are going to Jack's. Why don't you meet us there?”

They managed to get a table at the celebrated seafood restaurant, Iris sitting next to Layla, who couldn't stop talking about how she missed seeing her after school. “Uncle Collier is all right, but you're the best, Miss Iris. I don't have cookies and milk with him,” she said sotto voce.

Iris pressed her mouth to the girl's ear. “I'll talk to him about that.”

Tracy glanced around the crowded restaurant. “This place is a mob scene. It's worse than New Year's Eve when everyone comes here for hoppin' John and chitlins.”

Layla scrunched up her nose. “I don't like chitlins, Mama.”

“It's an acquired taste, sweetheart,” Tracy explained.

Collier stared directly at Iris. “Do you eat chitlins?”

“No.”

His expressive eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Have you ever tried them?”

“Yes.”

A shadow fell over the table. Luvina Jackson stood with her arms crossed over the front of her bibbed apron glaring at Collier. “I should take a switch to yo' fine behind fo' not coming by to see me, Scrappy. How long you been back?” she admonished him.

Collier stood up and picked up Luvina as if she weighed twenty pounds instead of two hundred. He kissed her cheek. “How are you, Miss Vina?”

Luvina screamed, and the restaurant fell silent. “Put me down fo' you drop me.”

Collier lifted her higher. “I'm not going to drop you. I can bench-press four hundred pounds, and a fine woman like you don't weigh no four hundred,” he said lapsing into dialect.

Luvina pounded his back. “Put me down, boy. I'm 'fraid of heights.”

Collier kissed her cheek, then set her on her feet. “You still the best-smelling woman in the Cove.” Miss Vina was famous for wearing lily-of-the-valley perfume.

Luvina's broad dark face, with features that bore her Gullah ancestry, softened as she smiled. “The devil sho nuf gave you a silver tongue when he was handing them out. Now, what can I git you and yo' family?” She waved a hand. “Famemba, we don't take no money from those in the active military, so keep yo' money in yo' pocket.”

Iris had watched the interchange between Collier and the woman who'd run Jack's Fish House with her husband for more than two decades, struggling not to laugh. He was as charming as he was handsome—a heady combination, indeed. She and Collier ordered okra gumbo, and Tracy and Layla selected fried catfish with a side order of hush puppies. When it came time to settle the bill, Collier gave Tracy the money.

They returned to the festivities along Main Street. Layla finally convinced Tracy to take a sleigh ride with her while Iris and Collier lingered to watch a juggler toss four pins in the air catching them before they fell. There was a face-painting station for children and several clowns perched high on unicycles.

Collier saw her when she tried to smother a yawn behind her hand. “Let's go, babe. Off to bed with you. I'm going to make sure you sleep past five tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Iris needed no further urging. She hadn't realized how sleepy she was until she sat still for more than a few minutes.

It took longer than usual to walk back to the apartment. Crowds had even gathered in the parking lots behind stores. Groups of teenagers sat around talking, texting, or listening to music on their electronic devices. As they neared the sweetgrass shop, Iris saw Collier's Mustang for the first time. He'd promised to take her for a ride, but that was before she changed her work hours.

“The Mustang is beautiful.”

Collier smiled as if she'd complimented one of his children. “We'll go for a drive after church and brunch.”

“Will you let me drive it?”

“We'll see.”

She slowly shook her head. “Please don't tell me you're one of those guys who loves his car more than his family?”

Collier preceded her up the staircase, unlocking the door. “I'll have to wait and see when I have a wife and children to find out if that's the case.”

Iris took off her boots, leaving them on the mat. “I'm going to brush my teeth, and then I'm going to bed.”

She lowered the thermostat, brushed her teeth, undressed, and slipped into a nightgown and got into bed while Collier lingered in the family room watching the news. Her eyes felt heavy, and when she couldn't keep them open any longer, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, not stirring even when Collier slipped into bed next to her.

Suddenly, Iris woke in a panic, struggling to breathe. She tried to move, but something held her down. She opened her eyes to find Collier with his hands around her throat, yelling at her in a language she couldn't understand or identify.

She struggled mightily, trying to push him away, but he was two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Suddenly, she was trapped in her memories, desperate to get away from the husband who'd tried to kill her once before. She tried to scream, but couldn't draw a breath. Black spots swam in front of her eyes from lack of oxygen. Finally, she managed to loosen his hands enough to suck in a lungful of air.

She scrambled out from under him and out of bed, screaming in horror. Even after she turned on the light, Collier didn't wake up, just continued to twitch and shout in a foreign language.

She took several deep calming breaths before working up the nerve to touch him. “Wake up!” she shouted. “Collier, come back to me.”

Without warning, his eyes opened, staring at her as if she were a complete stranger. “What's the matter, baby?”

“What's the matter?” she whispered as tears flowed down her face, landing on the sheet. “You almost strangled me. Why didn't you tell me you have PTSD? You were yelling at me in some language I've never heard before, and your hands were around my throat. I-I couldn't breathe. It was like Derrick all over again.”

Collier felt as if he'd been knifed in the gut as he watched Iris cry. He wanted to touch her but knew he couldn't because she feared him hurting her. The nightmare had returned, and this time he couldn't remember any of the details. He gently cupped her face in his hands and lifted her chin. That's when he saw the imprint of his fingers on her neck, already turning into an ugly purple bruise.

“Baby, I'm sorry. I—”

“Please go, Collier,” she pleaded softly. “I can't go through this again.” A sob escaped her. “I need to be with someone who makes me feel safe. And right now you're not the one.”

Collier reacted like an automaton moving in slow motion as he put on his clothes. It took all of his strength and self-control not to break down. His limbs felt like lead, and he was so cold that he could've been dropped off in Alaska in the dead of winter as he slipped behind the wheel of the classic car. The parking lot was empty, the throng that had lined Main Street gone. Only the winking Christmas lights and a few wisps of dirty fake snow remained.

Staring through the windshield with sightless eyes, Collier made it home without wrecking the car. He didn't remember putting the key in the door or walking into his bedroom and falling across the bed fully dressed.

A soft knocking on the bedroom door roused him, and when he turned over he saw daylight coming through the blinds on the window. “What is it?”

The door opened slightly and Tracy stuck her head in. She frowned. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing. What do you want?”

“It's ten thirty. Are you going to church with us?”

“No. Now get out and close the damn door.”

The door swung open, bouncing off the doorstop. “I don't know what happened between you and Iris, but don't you dare take that tone with me, Collier.”

He waved at her. “Please close the door. Is that better?”

His facetious tone wasn't lost on his sister when she walked into the room and sat on the chair in a corner. “No, it's not better. I don't know how many times I've told you that I love and worry about you, Collier. And because there's only the two of us, we need to trust each other. There isn't anything I keep from you and I expect the same from you.”

“Like you spending the Christmas week in Florida with Dr. Evan Nelson?”

“Yes,” she spat out, “like me spending a week with a man and his daughter. I told you because as long as you're here I owe it to you to let you know my whereabouts.”

Collier felt as if he'd gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer. His body hurt, his head hurt, and his heart ached. “It's over between me and Iris.”

Tracy stared at him as if he were a stranger instead of her brother. “What happened?”

He told her everything. “I almost killed her, Tracy. First her husband punches her out, then tries to strangle her, and in a flashback I did the same thing, too.” Collier shook his head. “It's as if she's a magnet for abusive men.”

“Don't you dare compare yourself to her ex-husband! The man deliberately made her life a living hell. You're different, Collier.”

“Different, Tracy? I hurt her.” He'd punctuated the three words. “She's had enough pain in her life, and she doesn't need any more with me.”

“Do you love her?”

“What does love have to do with this?” He ran both hands over his head. “The bottom line is I should've told her about the flashbacks.”