Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge (5 page)

“Quiet.” He looked straight ahead, his face
completely blank, except for the revealing taut lines around his
mouth as he carefully scaled the slope before him. With the added
burden of a woman in his arms.

Chafed, she turned her eyes away wondering
what she had done to make him so angry. Her view fell upon the
rocky wall of the gorge and like a jolt from her nightmare, she was
faced with the reality of the situation. Impulsively, she clutched
Dexter tighter and sucked in a cowardly gasp.

“Shouldn't have looked away.” His voice was
oddly calm as he rebuked her. “You know what they say, never look
down.”

Laura turned back to him, momentarily struck
dumb from the lack of scorn in his voice. Always full of anger, she
didn't think it could be healthy. She wondered what made him that
way and if he had always been so full of antagonism. With
surprising assuredness, she knew he hadn't.

“I'm surprised you remembered my name.”

He glanced at her, briefly frowning. “Why
wouldn't I. Mother introduced us.”

“But I didn't honestly think you took
note.”

Dexter didn't like that comment. More reason
because it was true. He never, ever, took note of people let alone
their names, unless of course they were useful to him or business.
Certainly not a little someone, at a function of no concern, in a
room full of nobodies.

But, at that moment, when their fear was
about to be realized, he had no difficulty in shouting out her name
in order for her to move like the bullet.

“Don't flatter yourself. You share your name
with my secretary,” he lied.

“I wasn't flattering myself.” He immediately
brought her to the defense. “You barely looked my way, let alone
acknowledged me.”

“There was no need.”

“No need?” Laura's jaw dropped. “How can you
be so rude?”

“Comes naturally, I suppose.” He hadn't even
flickered at her insult.

Appalled, she stared at him. Then, “Please
put me down.”

He ignored her, simply tightening his grip as
he continued cautiously upward. “My dear Miss Witherow, if you
honestly believe you've been the first to tell me that, then you're
mistaken. I'm not famous for my charm.”

She felt utterly sick. How could anyone
actually appear to enjoy this type of reputation? Desperately, she
needed to get as far away from this man as possible, as if it could
possibly be contagious.

Kicking her legs, she felt him heave a deep
sigh before he allowed his arms to give way and allowed her to drop
to the ground. Standing on her own two feet in the snow once again,
she turned on him. On the verge of telling him exactly what she
thought of him, it struck her.

“You called me Miss Witherow.” A smile
appeared and began to spread across her face. “Does your secretary
share my last name as well?”

The strained mug he bit hard to control did
little for his cover. “Don't be foolish. It's just a bloody
name—”

At that point, however, she was outright
laughing at him.

“For pity’s sake!” With an angry jerk, he
moved away from her. “This is ridiculous. I'm getting out of this
ravine now—”

Laura followed him, cold feet and all.
“Fraud.”

“Confounded woman, stop it. You are one
vexing female who I've had the misfortune of being trapped in a
gorge with, let alone meeting.”

He was really angry now. Maybe she pushed him
too far. But the truth was, as she knew it, under that hard cold
exterior was a warm caring man who desperately needed softening.
She tripped over her clumsy frozen feet, and would have landed on
her knees in the snow if Dexter hadn’t instinctively reached out
and gripped her elbow, stopping her from falling. Clearly, he was
still seething with anger, yet he bent and swung her back into his
arms. She smiled her thanks, which he completely ignored.

“No need to get so mad.” Deciding it might be
best to get on his good side, if he had a good side, she told him,
“You're right. It's simply a name. People remember them all the
time.”

“Are you making fun of me?” He glared down at
her. “Because if you are, let me inform you I have little tolerance
for humor.”

“Big surprise.”

He looked as if he wanted to throttle her.
“You don't get it do you?”

“Get what?” They were moving upward again at
a precarious angle. Laura tightened her hold on his neck.

He grasped her closer in response. “I dislike
people and they dislike me. It's quite a congenial
relationship.”

“From whose point of view?”

“Now you see,” he jeered, “that’s the ironic
part. If I actually cared—I'd give a damn.”

Laura winced. “What about your family? You're
mother?”

His face hardened. “We've gone too far with
this conversation. Consider it dropped.”

She had found his soft spot. At least now she
knew he had one.

At last they reached the safety of the road
where Dexter walked briskly toward his car and unceremoniously
dropped her into the passenger seat. For Laura, she was just
grateful to be out of the gorge and back on solid ground. When
Dexter came around to the driver side he turned on the ignition and
cranked the heaters up to full power.

“You should be able to feel the heat soon.”
He motioned toward her feet which, at present, were curled up under
her buttocks. “I suggest you begin rubbing them to get the
circulation flowing.”

It was only after he swung his shiny new
Volvo around and started heading back toward the south road, that a
question dawned on Laura.

“What were you doing on the north road,
anyway? I thought you said only a fool would attempt—”

“If the shoe fits . . .”

“I don't think you're a fool. As a
matter-of-fact, I think you are—” She was about to say a hero and
she owed him her life, but he did not allow her to finish.

“Am I supposed to accept that as a
compliment? From a woman whose own actions were so foolhardy she
not only put her own life into jeopardy, but someone else's as
well. Namely, mine?”

“I didn't ask you to come down that ravine.”
She automatically defended herself from his cruel barbs.

“You were screaming at the top of your
lungs.” He reminded her.

She had an unfamiliar urge to hit him. “What
else was I supposed to do? Besides, with your personality, why
didn't you simply walk away? I'm sure you wouldn't have had any
remorse.”

“The next time this happens, you can bet
that's exactly what I'll do.”

Seething with anger and hurt she glared at
his profile until satisfied, this time at least, looks couldn't
wound, she spun around in her seat. Fixing her fiery gaze on the
scenery outside her window, she felt her insides ignite with anger.
Laura prided herself on her ability to be good-natured and
easygoing. People considered her friendly and a peace loving
individual. She rarely got angry. However, this man, a virtual
stranger, had an uncanny talent to draw out her temper.

He was a hurtful and despicable creature. It
would only give her great pleasure to swipe that mean insufferable
expression from his face. If he so badly wanted to be despised,
then fine, he would have his wish because at that moment Laura
hated him greatly.

And yet, he said the next time it happened he
would walk away. He hadn't said anything about having to do it all
over again he would walk away.

Stop it, Laura, she scolded herself. Stop
doing this. The man was intolerable! Everyone disliked him, why the
devil shouldn't she? It was, after all, what he wanted.

She sighed to herself. Because she knew it
wasn't in her character. She couldn't help but not like a man who
saved, not only her life, but her feet from frostbite as well. Not
to mention from a lonely Christmas Eve.

No, no matter how rude he was, how despicable
he spoke, or how insensitive he appeared, she couldn’t dislike
him.

Without a doubt, she knew she would be
forever grateful to him. Not just for saving her life, but
unknowingly, giving her that companionship she desperately needed
on Christmas Eve.

Less than an hour later, Dexter pulled up to
the emergency entrance of the hospital. She wholeheartedly expected
him to drop—or rather dump her off at the entrance with a good
riddance wave of farewell.

Instead, he parked the vehicle, came around
to the passenger side, then swooped Laura back into his arms. She
watched his wooden features as he marched them across the parking
lot and through the automatic opening doors to the hospital’s
emergency ward, and decided it was best not to argue.

It only took little over three-quarters of an
hour for a doctor to treat her feet for minor frostbite, administer
to the gashes on her legs, then discharge her. A wheelchair was
brought to Laura's aid, and while a nurse assisted her, Dexter
thanked the doctor in a brisk authoritative voice before wheeling
her out to his car.

At this point Laura decided it was time she
spoke. “It isn't necessary you see me home. The doctor said I'm
quite fine. I'm sure I'll be able to arrange some means of
transportation—”

“He also said you should stay off your feet
for a couple of days.” Again, that unemotional voice had her
frowning. How did he really feel?

“Which I will,” she agreed. “As soon as I get
home. So, please, if you wouldn't mind dropping me off at the bus
depot—”

“Look.” His voice was implacable as he hauled
her out of the wheelchair and deposited her into the passenger seat
of his car once again. “I began this and I intend to finish
it.”

“Fine.” She sighed in defeat, then proceeded
to give him directions to her home.

It wasn't far from the hospital and in no
time she pointed out the house lining the street.

“Daddy left me the house, mortgage free. He
took care of everything when he was alive. He must have known—” Her
voice broke, finding it still difficult to discuss her deceased
parent.

He wasn't looking at her but she could read
the blank, detached expression on his face.

So, it was back, the ugly face of his
character. She sighed, then turned to open the door.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I'll
help you to the house.”

“Really, that's not necessary.” But he was
already out of the vehicle and around to the passenger side and
scooping her back up. “I'm sure I'm capable of making it to the
door perfectly fine.”

Still no response, just continued smoothly
until he reached the top step of the verandah. “Key?”

“There's a spare in the mailbox.” It was then
when at last he deposited her gently on the welcome mat outside the
front entrance.

After successfully unlocking the front door,
he turned around and dropped the key in her hand. “You'll be fine
from here.”

She had half-expected him to continue until
he properly deposited her in bed where she was to remain for the
next few days.

“I would have been fine from the hospital.”
She told him. “But thank you.”

His eyes focused on her face for the first
time. Suddenly, she became self-conscious under his dark scrutiny
and nervously shifted from one swollen foot to the other.

He glanced down at them and said in a
commanding voice, “Stay off your feet.” Then turning, he left her
standing gasping after him.

A spark, somewhere in the deep crevices of
her being didn't want him leaving. She leaped forward reaching the
wooden banister and leaning over it. “Wait!”

He stopped and looked back. His expression
blank.

“I-I mean, wouldn't you like to come in for
some coffee or—a Christmas drink!” Her eyes lit up suddenly. “It is
after all Christmas morning.”

“No thanks.” He shunned her offer immediately
and would have continued on his way as if she had never stopped
him.

“Wait!” This time she sprang into action
swiftly, following him down the steps.

She heard him swear, followed by the sound of
crunching snow as he retraced his footsteps. “What the blazes do
you think you're doing?”

Coming to a direct halt on the second last
step, she came face to face with an angry Dexter. “I just want to
thank you for saving—”

“Well don't!”

Stunned, she stared at him. His eyes were so
dark they were almost a charcoal black. Something horrific in his
expression caused a chill to shoot down her spine.

“What do you mean—?”

“I mean I don't want your thanks. I did what
needed to be done. Case closed.”

“But you saved my life—”

“What I did had nothing to do with you.” He
looked as cold and listless as the northern climate around
them.

On a whisper, she replied, “You're wrong. It
had everything to do with me.”

The coldness in his face could have turned
her to stone. “Don't get any stupid ideas. I'm no hero! You were
right about me. You mean absolutely nothing to me and I would have
gladly left you in the ravine.”

Hurt, she stared deeply into unmoving eyes
and whispered, “But you didn't.”

“No,” he agreed. His own voice low but hard.
“But I easily could have.”

Then he swung away leaving a wounded Laura
staring after him, her emotions scattered at her feet. As she stood
there feeling every wretched sensation, she became unexpectedly
bitter and a tiny flame of resentment was lit once more. She wasn’t
terribly sure why Dexter O’Reilly should leave her feeling as if
she was just stung. All she knew for certain was that dreadful void
of loneliness had returned.

Once in the sanctuary of her own little home,
Laura paused in the entrance and took a deep steady breath. What
she wanted was for this day to end, once and for all. Along with
all the memories of her horrific crash down Suicide Point, the
terrifying moments subsequently when she remained alone and in the
dark, and most certainly her unceremonious rescue.