Lois Richer - Past Secrets, Present Love

Kelly squeezed back, but kept her hand in his, drawing him along with her. She felt weak, silly, afraid—the emotions jumbled together as she took him from room to room, nodding each time he asked, “Okay?”

By the time they’d returned to the foyer she’d regained some of her equanimity. With an apologetic look, she slid her fingers from Ross’s.

“Thanks,” she whispered, feeling the heat rise into her cheeks.

“Anytime,” he growled, grinning at her blush. Then he opened the door and addressed the officer. “We’ve been through the house. Everything looks fine.”

“Good. We’ll be patrolling past here every little while. You need anything, you dial 911.” He stared straight at Kelly, waiting for her nod.

“Thanks.” Ross closed the door, twisted the dead bolt, then turned to face her. “Would it be too much to ask for a cup of hot chocolate?”

“Of course not. I should have offered. Come on into the kitchen and I’ll put on some water to warm.”

Kelly found her feet moving slowly, as if by rote, and wondered why she couldn’t snap out of this cocoon that weighed her down. She wanted to tell Ross she was fine, that she could manage on her own. She didn’t want him to see her here in this big empty house, looking like a pathetic figure with no one in all of Chestnut Grove to turn to.

But wasn’t that exactly what she was?

“Have a seat. Would you like something to eat with your cocoa?” she asked, hoping he’d say yes.

Kelly had baked a mountain of things before Christmas, thinking she’d have plenty on hand when she invited people over. But holidays were family times and, because she hesitated to break into that laughing closeness that existed between reunited families who got together only once or twice a year, Kelly had ended up asking only a few guests. That left her with a freezer full of fattening food. Oh well, the food bank might take it.

“You wouldn’t have any chocolate cake, would you?” Ross asked. “I love chocolate cake, but no matter how well I read the cake mix instructions, I just can’t make a decent cake.”

The very thought of him mixing and blending made her smile, but she hid it by opening the fridge.

“You certainly are the man of the moment. I happen to have two of them sitting here, but only one is waiting to go to the church outing tomorrow.” She held the door open so he could see. “Is that what you’d like?”

At the sight of her mile-high chocolate layer surprise, his eyes grew huge. He licked his lips.

“Perfect. But are you sure you want to cut into one? If you were supposed to bring two—”

“Just one. But I always make two because the filling is a double recipe. Somehow it doesn’t taste right if you cut it in half so I always make two cakes. There’s plenty for you. I’ll give Pilar’s dad Salvador a quarter, take some to work, maybe even sneak a piece or two to Rachel’s father Charles if I think her mother won’t catch me.”

“Why shouldn’t she catch you?”

“Beatrice is vegan, vegetarian in the extreme. This cake is worse than red meat to her.” She giggled at his squinched-up face. “If nothing else, I can always throw what’s left away.”

“In the garbage?” Ross looked scandalized.

“What else? If I had a dog, I’d feed it to him, but then he’d probably get sick. It’s pretty rich,” she warned as she set the cake on the counter in front of him.

Ross seemed content to sit there, staring at the cake, so Kelly busied herself making two big mugs of hot chocolate, adding water to the gourmet mix she’d purchased. Then she laced both drinks with some leftover whipped cream. She sprinkled some peppermint mint chips on top, then added a striped candy cane poking through the cream.

Kelly carried her favorite etched mugs to the counter, set one in front of him and one at her own place. She got a plate, a knife, a cake lifter, two forks and a couple of festive napkins. In minutes she had two place settings on each of the quilted placemats she’d made for the holidays. With a flick of a button, the radio began playing soft music that filled the room and helped drain away some of the emptiness she felt inside.

“Aren’t you going to taste it?” she asked when Ross made no effort to pick up his fork.

“Uh-huh.” But he remained transfixed, his eyes riveted on the dark chocolate layers that sat on regal layers of pure white cream.

The sound of her grandfather clock chimed twelve and sent the sound echoing from the living room throughout the house.

“I’m a bit late but I don’t think I ever wished you a happy New Year, Ross,” she murmured, holding up her mug.

His eyes met hers. He reached out, grasped his mug and lifted it, touching the rim against hers.

“Happy New Year, Kelly.”

The phone chose that precise moment to ring. Kelly set down her untouched mug and lifted the receiver.

“You’ve been warned,” a voice cackled. Then the line went dead.

Her silence wasn’t normal.

Ross glanced up from his drink, took one look at Kelly’s face and lifted away the receiver. He clamped it against his ear, but heard nothing.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know.” She took the phone from him and hung it up. “They’re gone.” Her hand was shaking. “Before you ask, whoever it was said only one thing. Apparently I’ve been warned.”

Ross hated to see her so disturbed on what should have been a night for celebrating her friends’ marriage. Barricading her inside that closet had been no accident and a threatening phone call proved someone had malicious intent. But he wasn’t going to say it and add to her concerns, not now. He reached over, squeezed her fingers with his.

“I’ll call Zach.”

But Kelly stopped him. “Please, let it alone for now. Telling him in the morning will be soon enough. I don’t want to ruin the entire night for him.”

He didn’t like it but her tone was so beseeching that he finally nodded and let it go. “I guess they wouldn’t be able to set up tracers tonight anyway.” He hit * 69 and listened as a bodiless voice told him the call could not be traced.

“Probably used a cell phone. Or a pay phone.” She pretended lack of concern, though her cheeks were paper white. “Let’s take our food into the den. I’ll light a fire and we can reminisce about happier times.”

Though he followed her out off the kitchen and into the oak paneled den, cake and cup in tow, Ross knew he didn’t have a whole lot of memories he wanted to reminisce on. It was all right for Kelly, she’d had a happy childhood. His, not so much.

“Here we are.” She lit the fire then sank into a big armchair and waved him to a nearby seat. “Now tell me about yourself. You came here from Richmond?”

“Yes.” He knew from experience that not responding only elicited more questions in Chestnut Grove. “Originally from New York,” he muttered. “Brooklyn.”

“Wow! I’ve never lived in such a big city. It must be interesting.” She paused, waited for him to embellish, and when he didn’t she turned her attention to the fire. “Someone told me you used to be a cop. What was that like?”

“Ugly.” Her blink of surprise told him his one word had said too much to stop now. He took a sip of his drink while his brain organized his thoughts. “I was assigned to some pretty nasty areas. Too many drugs, too many weapons, too much poverty.”

“And you burned out?” She nodded, her brown eyes soft with compassion. “I can understand that. Sometimes I feel that way when an adoption doesn’t go through. The adoptive mom loves that child so much but all she can do is watch the child be taken away. It’s heartbreaking for both of them.”