Brenda Novak - Snow Baby

At her sister’s invitation, Stacy slipped inside and sank onto the bed. “So what do you think?” she asked.

Chantel stood in front of the dresser, brushing her hair. “About Dillon?”

“No, about the price of eggs in China. Of course about Dillon.”

Her sister smiled at her in the mirror. “He seems pretty special. I think you’ve chosen a great guy this time.”

Stacy waited, sensing something more in her sister’s voice, but Chantel didn’t elaborate. “Are you going to tell me what happened last night? About the accident?”

“Oh, that.” Chantel set the brush down and turned to face her. “Unfortunately I rear-ended him. It was so snowy and slick, I just couldn’t stop in time.”

“And then?”

Chantel cleared her throat. “And then I gave him my insurance information.”

“But you said you got stuck.”

“That was after the accident.”

“What happened to Dillon?”

“I don’t know.”

Chantel had spoken so quietly, Stacy could barely hear her. “What?”

“I said I don’t know. Maybe the Highway Patrol closed the freeway. I’ve heard they do that sometimes.

“Yeah, they do.” Stacy toyed with the fringe on one of the throw pillows that decorated the bed. “So, do you want to go skiing with us today?”

“Actually I think I’ll stay here and read, or just take it easy. Last night was pretty traumatic.”

“Okay.” Stacy tossed the pillow aside and stood to go, feeling instantly relieved—and hating herself for it.

CHANTEL COULDN’T STOP shaking. Long after Dillon and Stacy had left, she sat in the living room, staring out the window at the crumpled fender of her car and wondering how much more could go wrong before something finally went right. She’d almost died last night. If not for Dillon, she would have fallen asleep and never awoken. But he’d come for her, risked his own life to save hers, and his sacrifice and all they’d shared afterward had forged a bond so quick and sure Chantel wasn’t sure how to sever it. She only knew that she had to. For Stacy.

How ironic that it would come to this, she thought. Or maybe it was simply justice.

The telephone rang, and Chantel glanced at the Formica counter where it sat on top of a narrow phone book. She had no desire to talk to anyone. She had even less energy. But the ringing wouldn’t stop.

After several minutes she climbed to her feet and walked slowly across the room to answer it. “Hello?”

“Chantel?”

It was Dillon. Chantel’s breath caught at the sound of his voice, and the memories of last night crowded closer. Memories of a rough jaw against her temple, words of passion in her ear. “I thought you were skiing.”

“I’m in the lodge. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Where’s Stacy?”

“She took the lift up with the others.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Listen, Chantel, I just want to say that I was sincere last night, that it was real. I didn’t mention Stacy because she and I have only dated a few times. And nothing’s ever happened. I mean, we haven’t had sex or anything, in case you’re worried about that.”

Part of Chantel was relieved to think he hadn’t slept with Stacy. A bigger part of her cringed to imagine what her sister would do if she found out about the two of them. “She cares about you, Dillon.”

“I care about her, too. We’ve been friends for almost two years.”

“So you wouldn’t want to hurt her.”

“Of course not.”

Chantel took a deep breath. “Then you understand why this—whatever it is that sprang up between us—can’t go on.”

Silence. Then, “I’m not sure I understand at all.”

“Stacy’s my sister, Dillon.”

“A fact I’m not likely to forget and one I wasn’t very happy to discover. But I’m not sure I’m willing to give up a relationship that could work for one that wasn’t going anywhere to begin with.”

Chantel blinked against the tears welling in her eyes. She thought they’d shared something special; it was gratifying that Dillon felt the same way. But it made no difference in the end. Because nothing mattered except regaining Stacy’s trust and proving herself a true friend and sister at last. She needed to do that for herself as much as her sister. “I just…can’t.”

“Why? I’m not saying we have to do anything right now. We can give it some time, let things cool off—”

“No. I don’t want to be responsible for you backing away from Stacy. Last night was a mistake. I’m sorry, Dillon.”

Chantel hung up while she still had the mental fortitude to do so. She didn’t want him aware of the turmoil inside her. If he sensed her doubt, he’d push, and she couldn’t afford that. Couldn’t afford to be tempted into forgetting all her new goals and desires. Especially her desire to be the type of sister she should have been in the first place.

The phone rang again, but Chantel refused to answer it. She wouldn’t open the door between her and Dillon, not even a crack. She was going to be bigger than she’d been before. Stronger and better. Safer.

“It’s too complicated, Dillon,” she whispered, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

The phone kept ringing, on and on. Finally she covered her ears and wept.

HOW SHE MADE IT through the weekend, Chantel didn’t know. They were some of the hardest days she’d ever spent, and she’d had her share of hard days in the past year. But she’d managed to keep Dillon at arm’s length. He’d tried to talk to her several times and had watched her closely, his confusion and desire showing clearly in his eyes.

She’d turned a cold shoulder to him, refusing to entertain memories of their time together or to consider any contact in the future. He was Stacy’s. Off-limits. Period. There was no margin for error in that.

Kicking off her shoes in the middle of her own living room on Monday evening, Chantel turned on the television before going into the kitchen to root through the refrigerator. At least work was getting easier. Today she’d forwarded several letters to Congressman Brown from constituents who needed help on federal issues. There wasn’t much a state senator could do to assist someone with the IRS, except to pass on the request. She’d responded to myriad letters on child-support reform, somehow managing to figure out how to do a mail merge on her computer. And she’d learned how to handle the scheduling for the congressman so she could fill in if Nan, in the capitol office, was ever away.

She was beginning to think there was life after modeling. But she still regretted that she had no education. Stacy was a nurse, with a good job in the maternity ward at the hospital. Chantel envied her the pay but knew she could never work so closely with newborns. Always seeing someone else go home with what she wanted most would cause her constant pain.

A knock at the door interrupted her consideration of a frozen burrito. “Who is it?”

No answer.

Frowning, Chantel shut the freezer door and went to peek through the peephole. Whoever it was was standing too far to the right. She could make out nothing more than part of one denim-clad leg. Another solicitor for some worthy cause? They always seemed to come at dinnertime.

Chantel opened the door as far as the chain would allow. “Who is it?”

Wade shifted so she could see him. “It’s me. Can I come in?”

Chantel’s stomach dropped. Oh, no. Not now. It had only been six months since she’d left him in New York, but already he looked different. His hair was bleached blond, an earring dangled from his left ear, and he’d obviously been hitting the weights again. “No. How’d you find me?”

He gave her the grin that had won her heart when she was only nineteen. “We’re both from this town. Where else would you be?”