Read Making Spirits Bright Online
Authors: Fern Michaels,Elizabeth Bass,Rosalind Noonan,Nan Rossiter
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors)
Making Spirits Bright (7 page)
Chapter 11
Melanie wanted to tell someone about her and Bryce’s evening but saw it was almost midnight. Too late to call Stephanie, too late to call her mother. If Mimi were still alive, she would’ve called her no matter how late. She’d had an extraordinary relationship with her grandmother and knew that Mimi was looking down on her from the heavens above. Melanie smiled at the image. Mimi would’ve told her to pack her best undies and bring her most expensive perfume.
And that’s just what she did after taking Odie out for an extra midnight potty break. Inside, she was too wired to even think about going to sleep. The animals sensed there was something different about her. They hopped on top of her bed and watched her as she went from closet to chest of drawers to luggage, their heads moving in perfect unison.
“Mom will take you two for the weekend. Dad might even grill you two a steak, but don’t tell him I know he does this, or I’m sure it’ll stop. Now, what’s left to pack?” She spoke to Odie and Clovis like they were people. She swore sometimes they could understand her.
She checked the contents of her luggage once more, making sure she had double of everything. Just in case. A slinky black dress, a slinky black sheer blouse, a slinky pair of formfitting black slacks. Black bikini undies with a matching bra. Yep, this would do for a weekend. She would wear her black leather boots on the flight, so she didn’t have to pack an extra pair of shoes. Seeing there was nothing left to do, she closed the luggage again, placing it on the floor next to her bed.
She couldn’t believe how her life had changed in just a matter of a few days. What a fantastic Christmas season. Now all she had to do was wait for Miss Krause’s phone call confirming that her background check was clear, which she knew to be a fact since she’d never had so much as a speeding ticket. Then she could honestly say that her life was close to perfect. Well, if you didn’t add that one teeny little element about marriage, then her life would be as close to perfect as it was ever going to get.
Odie yawned, reminding her of the late hour. Too keyed up to sleep, she retrieved her novel from the living room, then washed her face and brushed her teeth. She stripped down to her undies, slid into her favorite pair of sweats, and an old T-shirt from her high school days. Once she’d gently moved Odie and Clovis to their side of the bed, she opened her book and began to read about the latest saga in the vampire world. Within minutes, she was sound asleep.
Bryce finally gave up. In bed tossing and turning for the past two hours, he couldn’t have stayed still if his life depended on it. Shoving the heavy covers aside, he decided to get up and go downstairs in search of a snack. Grace always had some type of baked goods just waiting to be sliced into. Thankful there were no residents staying at Hope House, he didn’t bother putting on a shirt.
Downstairs in the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of milk, then spied a plate of brownies sitting next to the stove. He grabbed a saucer from the cabinet, stacked three large brownies on top of one another, and headed back upstairs.
It was going to be a long night, he thought as he entered the guest room. Switching on the lamp next to the bed, he placed the glass of milk and plate of brownies on the night table. Grace usually had a stack of fiction novels tucked inside a drawer. He opened the drawer on the night table and was not disappointed. James Patterson’s, Vince Flynn’s, and Harlan Coben’s latests were neatly lined up side by side. Grace must’ve known he wouldn’t be able to sleep, because those were three of his favorite authors. He hadn’t read any of the three novels, either. He picked up Vince Flynn’s newest. He read the jacket copy, read the dedication, then the prologue. When he realized he’d read the prologue but hadn’t a clue what he’d read, he closed the book.
Normally, after a day on the slopes like the one he’d had today, he would’ve crashed hours ago. Instead, he felt renewed, like he’d just run an easy marathon and won. It was Melanie. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d met her casually a few times, thought she was a knockout, but for some reason hadn’t pursued her. When she’d tossed that cup of water in his face, well, it’d been an opening for him. Not having a clue why she’d acted in such a manner, he was glad she had. Of course, he wouldn’t tell her that.
He couldn’t believe she’d accepted his invitation to spend the weekend with him in Vegas. It almost seemed too easy, but he wasn’t going to question his good fortune. Tomorrow, he would help her chop down a Christmas tree; heck, he might even chop one down for his room. Then they’d go back to her place and decorate. He’d never been inside her condo and found himself suddenly curious about her. Did she prefer the right or the left side of the bed? Tea or coffee? Sugar or cream or both? Such inconsequential things. But he found he wanted to know all about her. He wanted to feel her next to him when he woke up in the morning. He wanted to wrap himself around her, wanted to make love to her until they were both pleasantly exhausted. And he would, as soon as he felt the time was right.
He wasn’t the man-about-town a lot of women thought he was. Not that Melanie had implied this to him, but he knew what his so-called reputation was on campus, and somehow he knew it would follow him for the rest of his life. If only he’d had such luck in high school. Gangly and tall, with crooked teeth and the beginnings of acne, he didn’t seem to appeal to any one particular girl. He’d dated in high school and had his first serious relationship in his second year of college. He’d thought Diana was the love of his life until he caught her sleeping with his dorm mate. In his bed. A life lesson, Grace had said, and she was right.
Since Diana, he’d dated a few women, even slept with a few that he thought he cared about, but he’d never felt such instant attraction for any woman, nothing like what he was feeling for Melanie. Until now, he’d never believed in love at first sight, or rather, at first splash. He suddenly realized he’d never believed in it because he hadn’t experienced it. And now? He looked around the bare but quaint bedroom. Pine chest of drawers, two twin beds with the night table separating them. Max’s magazine covers framed and hung neatly on the wall opposite the beds. Everything looked the exact same way it had the last time he’d slept in this room.
The only difference: now he was seeing it through the eyes of a man in total, absolute love.
Love. He’d fallen head over heels. Big-time.
Chapter 12
“I can’t believe you’ve spent your entire life in the fine state of Colorado and never chopped down your own Christmas tree. It’s practically unheard of,” Melanie joked, as they trudged through ankle-deep snow. The day was bitter cold, but at least the sun was out. A perfect day to cut down a tree.
“Yeah? Well I know something else that’s unheard of,” Bryce said.
Winded, Melanie stopped to catch her breath. “What’s that?”
Bryce dropped the canvas bag of tools on the snow-crusted ground next to his sturdy boots. “This.” He wound his hand around her loose hair, something he’d been wanting to do all day. With his free arm secured firmly around her waist, Bryce kissed her with all the pent-up emotions he’d spent the past forty-eight hours confronting—kissed her because he wanted to and because he could. Her response matched his. Both were eager to take their passion one step further, but Bryce wanted to wait until the timing was right. Or that’s what his brain kept telling him. Another part of him said, forget timing, but that part would have to wait. He drew away from her but kept both arms wrapped around her waist. “You taste like chocolate.” He licked his lips, teasing her.
She grinned the grin of the cat that ate the canary. “Think it has anything to do with that cup of hot cocoa I drank before we left?”
He nibbled at the tender spot where her shoulder met her neck. “Mmm, I’ve never done this,” she muttered between kisses, “while searching for the perfect tree.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Bryce whispered, sending chills down her spine.
Melanie nodded in agreement. “This isn’t the place ... it’s too cold.” She visibly shivered. “Let’s go find my Christmas tree before I turn into an icicle. I don’t remember it ever being this cold, do you?” She moved away from him and grabbed the bag of tools by his feet. He took them from her, and she let him. He was a true gentleman, and she found that she liked that about him. Kind of an old-fashioned sort of guy. Women’s libbers would not approve, that’s for sure. She laughed out loud.
“What?” he asked. “Tell me what you’re laughing at.”
Melanie plodded along, content to have Bryce by her side. “It might not be funny to you. But I can see you’re not going to let me brush it aside. Actually, I was thinking how nice it is to be with a man who has manners. You know, you’re sort of old-fashioned. I like that about you. Not something a modern woman admits to these days.”
She glanced at him, surprised at the tenderness in his expression.
“I guess I should say thanks. And you’re right, I am a bit old-fashioned. My dad was adamant when it came to treating women with respect. He always treated Mom and Grace like they were a queen and a princess. I just followed in his footsteps. Are you telling me you dated a bunch of ill-mannered slobs?”
They came to a clearing, one Melanie was quite familiar with. Tall pine trees flanked the clearing, their pungent odor refreshing. Even though cutting one’s own Christmas tree down in Colorado without a permit was illegal, Melanie’s parents had owned this particular piece of property for at least twenty years. Her father always replanted what they took. It was kind of like their own personal Christmas tree farm.
Spinning around hoping to catch a glimpse of just the right tree, Melanie watched Bryce watching her. “Hey, you’re not looking. You have to spin around like this.” She twirled around, both hands splayed out at shoulder level. “When I was little, I would use this method, and whatever tree my right hand pointed to, that’s the one we would chop down. Didn’t matter the shape or size, Dad can work miracles with a pair of clippers, so ... well, that’s what I did—actually, still do. Look.” She pointed to a small blue spruce about fifty feet away from where they were standing. “What do you think?”
Melanie watched Bryce closely as he came up next to her. He didn’t touch her, he simply looked at her, his forest green eyes shining as bright as the sunlight that filtered through the massive pines. “I think I’m falling in love with you, that’s what I think.”
A soft gasp escaped from her lips, her breath caught in her lungs, then she exhaled.
“I think I am, too. Falling in love.”
There. She’d said what she’d never imagined she would say to a man she’d practically just met.
Bryce wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down on the snow-laden ground. “Ever make a snow angel?”
Chapter 13
Olga Krause normally wasn’t one for theatrics, but that day she would make an exception. It was, after all, the time of year one showed goodwill to one’s fellow man. Besides, she really didn’t have a say in the matter.
“I want you to know this is highly unusual,” she said to the police officer and to Carla Albright, a social worker she’d known since coming to work at the orphanage twenty-seven years ago. “Come inside; you’ll let out all the warm air the state has to pay for.” Olga Krause opened the back door for the pair. Highly out of line, they were.
“I know it is unusual, that’s why we’re here,” Carla stated matter-of-factly.
The policeman, who couldn’t have been a day over thirty, held a small infant carrier by its sturdy plastic handle, while in his other hand, he gripped the hand of a little boy. The child’s face was red, his bright blue eyes cloudy and puffy, as if he’d been throwing a temper tantrum. Miss Krause peered inside the carrier. Practically a newborn. And she did not accept newborns under any conditions. Or she wouldn’t if given the choice. They cried constantly and were never satisfied. Fortunately, the state agency rarely saw a newborn. It seemed adoptive parents wanted them. She did not understand why. Why would one willingly want a baby? She had eleven children at the agency ranging in age from nine to fourteen. Not that she liked them, but they were much easier to manage than infants. Babies required constant attention.
“Follow me,” Olga Krause said to the two unwelcome visitors. “Let’s go to my office.”
They followed her down the dark hallway.
“You would think the state would spring for some lights,” Carla said to Olga’s back. “It’s as dark as a cellar in this place. And it’s too quiet. Where are all the children?”
When they reached the office, Olga Krause turned the desk lamp on. She nodded toward two old blue-gray chairs. “Sit.”
The small boy hiccupped, then stuck his thumb in his mouth. “Take your thumb out of your mouth right now, young man. You’ll have an overbite, and the state will be responsible for the bill.”
Carla Albright practically flew out of her chair. “How dare you speak to a child that way! He’s only three years old, and he just lost both of his parents in a terrible car accident! Why do you care what the state has to pay for? It certainly doesn’t come out of your paycheck.”
Carla reached for the little guy’s hand. She gathered him in her arms and sat down, holding him tightly in her lap. She dabbed at his eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. “Officer Rogers, please sit down. You’re making me nervous.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. At least six-foot-three, Officer Rogers looked like an oversized child in the small chair. Careful so as not to wake the little girl resting peacefully inside, he balanced the carrier on his lap.
“Now, tell me exactly why you’re here,” Olga Krause demanded. “It’s after eight o’clock. We normally don’t allow visitors at this ungodly hour.” She crossed her arms over her more-than-ample bosom, waiting for an answer.
“You need to retire, Olga. You’re too old for this job,” Carla said through clenched teeth.
“How dare you tell me what I can and cannot do! Now, get on with it before I ask you both to leave. Explain.” She directed her hateful gaze at the little boy and his infant sister.
“Every state agency except yours has reached its maximum occupancy. It’s Christmas, Olga. Where is the Christmas tree the state allocates its tax dollars for?” Carla smoothed the little boy’s damp hair. “I’m serious. Olga. Something is not right here. I’m sure you have an explanation, but before you say another word, hear me out. Officer Rogers, would you mind taking Sam—that’s his name, by the way—to the restroom, wipe his little face off, and see if he needs to potty. It’s my understanding he has been trained for quite some time now,” Carla said.
“Uh, sure ... but,” Officer Rogers looked at the baby in his lap.
“I’ll take her.” Carla gently helped Sam off her lap, then took the infant carrier from Officer Rogers. Sam looked like he was getting ready to cry again. Carla was so sad for the two children, she was tempted to take them home herself, but it was against state policy. If something didn’t change soon, she would have to risk the state’s wrath.
“Where are the children?” Carla demanded as soon as they were alone. “And don’t you dare tell me they’re sleeping, because no one puts a child to bed this early anymore, unless they’re sick. And where is the Christmas tree? I’m not going to ask you again.” Had she not had the infant seat in her lap, Carla would’ve reached across the desk and smacked Olga Krause right upside her homely face. Thank goodness for the baby, she thought as she fought to control herself. No wonder World Adoption Agency never ran at capacity. Who in their right mind would send a child to this ... this
prison camp
?
prison camp
?
“The children are in bed. I don’t know if they are asleep; if they aren’t, they should be. Bedtime is seven thirty, prompt. No exceptions. I have used the funds allocated for a tree for another purpose, which is none of your concern. Now, what is it you expect me to do with these two ... kids?” Olga Krause gestured toward the baby as though she were garbage.
Carla was a calm woman. Never married, she’d devoted her life to finding homes for children who needed them. At sixty, she wasn’t quite ready to call it quits, but after this experience, she wasn’t so sure. Olga was in her midseventies and as mean as a belly-crawling snake. Carla prayed she never became as bitter and hateful as the woman sitting across from her. The state should have fired her years ago. Why they hadn’t remained a mystery.
Forcing herself to bite her tongue, Carla spoke between gritted teeth. “Two days ago, these ‘kids,’ as you so eloquently call them, were made wards of the state when their parents were killed in a car crash on I-70. It was on the news—I’m sure that if you watched the news, you would have heard about the pileup. Eight cars were involved. Sadly, Sam and Lily, she’s three months old, in case you’re interested, were left without any family. Both parents were adopted and had no family to speak of. They were young and apparently they hadn’t made ... arrangements for their children, which is the worst injustice in the world. Now, does that answer your questions?”
“You want to leave them here? I am not equipped for an infant, I’ll have you know. We don’t have a crib, and certainly there are no baby bottles to be found. I’m sure one of our sister agencies is much more equipped than I.” Olga Krause drummed her fingertips on the desk.
“Trust me, if I had a choice, we wouldn’t be here. There is nowhere else, Olga. You have to take them. Unless you’ve a family willing to foster them on such short notice. My fosters are full, especially during the holidays. Poor little things,” Carla said.
Olga cleared her throat. “Well, I have a young couple who might take them in, but I can’t say for sure until I speak with them. The woman was just here; we haven’t even completed her background check, though I’m sure she passed. I haven’t counseled her or her husband. Never mind, they’re not qualified. Forget I brought this up.”
“No. Let’s call them. I’ll see to it that their paperwork is expedited. Give me the information before I do something I’m not proud of.” Carla made a mental note to check on the other children before she left. This was worse than she’d imagined.
Olga removed the single file from her desk drawer. She hadn’t placed a child in over twenty years. With luck, that was about to change.
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