A christmas charm, p.11
A Christmas Charm, page 11
“Hiya, Lance.” Charlie raised his eyebrows, shooting a question at Olivia, but she merely shrugged. Charlie winked at her conspiratorially. “You’re getting to be a regular around here.”
Olivia blushed, recalling her recent meal with Rhett. But Charlie didn’t pursue that topic, and Olivia laughed nervously in relief. “And why not?” she asked. “You can’t beat the food. And the service? Why it’s almost too attentive.”
Charlie snorted. “And what man worth his salt wouldn’t pay attention to a pretty gal, huh? I ask you, Lance?”
Lance smiled tightly but offered no comment.
Charlie held the menus before them. “You two know what you want?”
Lance looked at Olivia.
“Just coffee for me,” she said.
“Make that two,” Lance added.
“Oh, I’m going to the bank on this one,” Charlie chortled. “Going to buy me a chateau on the French Riviera.” He crossed to the bar, and rather than look at one another, Lance and Olivia followed his retreating figure. An awkward silence fell between them until, finally, their eyes met. Then they both spoke at once.
“I’m sorry we got off to…” Lance said.
“It’s like this. I never meant…” Olivia blurted. “Sorry.”
“No. Ladies first.”
“My husband isn’t dead.”
“I never believed that he was.”
“What?” Olivia sat up straight.
“I’ll shut up. You go.”
Beneath the tabletop, Olivia wrung her hands. “Where to start?”
“When did the trouble begin?”
Olivia gazed out the window, her eyes unfocused. Then she turned back and continued. “After university, I landed a teaching position in an exclusive private school, St. Andrews Academy. Located in an upscale community, the campus was a forty-five-minute commute from the city. Assuming the title Assistant Director of Music, I was thrilled with the opportunity. There was a big budget. The kids were spoiled rotten but well-behaved, and there was a great deal of opportunity for artistic license on my part. I helped select the choral and instrumental music, planned the programs, directed…” She stared off into space for a moment before continuing. “It was a plum job. I was newly graduated, suddenly on my own and living my dream…”
“Sounds perfect,” Lance said.
“It was. Anyway, a few years passed, and the head of the department moved on to greener pastures, if such a thing exists, and I was offered his position. Naturally, I accepted. As you know, teaching isn’t a well-paid profession. But this gig, what with private lessons and extra-curricular activities on the side, I was pulling down a nice salary. And I loved what I was doing.”
“So?”
“It was that first year, when I was director of the music department at St. Andrews, that I met Eric,” Olivia paused, her expression troubled. She sighed and continued.
“I’d entered my varsity choir in a competition in the city. They were that good. It was a big deal. We did exceptionally well, placed fourth, but what blew me away was a choir from the inner city. Those kids were amazing. They came from nothing, and quite honestly, this…the music…it was like a lifeline they’d been thrown. That was an epiphany for me, but I didn’t realize the implications until much later.”
In her mind’s eye, Olivia envisioned a large ballroom somewhere in the heart of the city…
It was an elegant affair, and she looked down at herself, knowing full well that she was stunning in her chic, off-the shoulder black cocktail dress. She shook hands with several city officials and local luminaries, a forced smile on her face. Then Eric appeared before her. He was slickly handsome, dashing in his hand-tailored tuxedo. Their eyes met, and he took her arm, drawing her away from the crowd.
Olivia shook her head as she relived that fateful encounter. “Eric swept me off my feet. From the moment I met him, it was as if I no longer had control over my life.” She paused, pondering her own words. “Wow. Did I say that? Because that’s it…in a nutshell. He just took over. Until there was no more…me.”
Suddenly overcome by emotion, Olivia choked back tears while Lance watched helplessly. Moments later, she cleared her throat, composed herself, and continued.
“Eric was like no one I’d ever met. The seduction started immediately, but eventually, the control became the seduction. The changes were incremental. I didn’t realize what was happening until one day I was flying high, self-possessed, and free, and in the next, I was little more than a prisoner in my own home.” The memory played out like a movie in her head.
Eric sprawled in a lounge chair in his fashionably contemporary living room, intent on the TV screen. The space was dominated by a wall of glass overlooking a panoramic skyline, illuminated by city lights. Olivia saw herself in the sleekly efficient galley kitchen preparing the evening meal. She stirred a saucepan on the cooktop and then reached for a spice jar on the counter.
Eric remained focused on the television. “And cool it with the red pepper flakes, okay?”
Olivia hesitated, holding the spice jar over the pot. “But I prefer it fra diavolo. You know. The way we had it at the Italian restaurant you like so much. You couldn’t get enough of it.”
“Yeah, well. It gives me indigestion.”
Olivia sighed and returned the spice container to the counter. Then she straightened her shoulders and steeled her resolve. “Can we talk?”
“Umm.” Eric yawned and stretched, not paying attention.
Olivia turned the burner to low and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. She poured the contents into a tall glass and sailed around the corner to confront him. “Here you are, darling.” She handed him the beer and came to perch before him on the ottoman at his feet.
“Thanks, babe.” Eric took a sip of the beverage and set the glass on a coaster on the side table. Then he gave her his full attention. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’m seriously thinking about that position in the city.”
Eric bolted upright in his chair. “Why the hell would you do that? You’ve got the perfect job. You love it. You’ve said so yourself. Besides, I don’t want you to work at all once we’re married. Let alone in that part of town.”
Olivia came to her feet, pivoted, and plopped down on his lap. She draped an arm around his neck. “It’s just something I feel I must do. I want to make a difference. The kids at St. Andrews are terrific, but they’re privileged; they’d be great with or without me. These kids…they could go one way or the other. And if I turned just one life around…well, I think it would be worth the effort. Don’t you?”
Eric took her face in his hands.
Finding the gesture unduly aggressive, Olivia stiffened, but she resisted the impulse to draw away.
“I think there are plenty of others who could step up to that plate. A woman like you…you'd just be asking for trouble. Why won’t you let me take care of you?”
Olivia pried Eric’s hands away and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “I’m a big girl, Eric. And I just want to give it a go, okay? If it doesn’t feel right, or if I feel threatened in any way…I promise I’ll give it up.” She kissed him again. “Please, back me on this.”
Eric’s face was stony. “I don’t like it, but if that’s what you want…”
“Thank you, sweetheart. I’m ready for the challenge, and I just know this is going to be good.”
Olivia shook herself from her reverie. “Despite Eric’s misgivings, he let me try. And I’m not going to tell you that working with those kids from the inner city was a walk in the park because it wasn’t. It was probably the most challenging thing I’ve ever done in my life. I went from a generous budget to having to buy most of my teaching supplies, the sheet music, CDs, and songbooks. And there were times when I felt as though I was in harm’s way. But there were always good kids who watched my back. It was so rewarding. Once I earned their confidence, those students gave me all they had.
“In June, after my first-year teaching there, Eric and I got married. By January, I was pregnant, and he was urging me to quit. My second year was a whole lot easier than the first. I was making significant progress with the students, gaining their trust, and I had no intention of leaving them mid-year.”
Once again, Olivia found herself back in her classroom in the inner city. Her students stood before her in a semi-circle, holding their sheet music at arm’s length. They were a mix of Caucasian, Black, and Hispanic, all good-naturedly unruly.
“Okay, enough already,” Olivia cried. “Let’s go back to the coda, shall we? Key change, up a half step. Here we go…” She blew on a pitch pipe, motioning for the basses to sing their note, which they did. Then she pointed to the tenors, bringing them in a third higher. She repeated that exercise for the altos and then the sopranos until a rich, full chord resounded.
The spell was broken when one of the bigger boys in the back yelped, “Ouch! Get off my foot, dumb-ass, honky.” He shoved the fellow next to him, who subsequently jostled the boy on his other side.
“Don’t push me, you freakin’ moron,” a pimply teen challenged.
Up to this point, the taunts were half in jest, not threatening. But in the next instant, tempers flared, and a melee broke out.
“Get the hell away from me, punk!”
And then the lines of rank formed. Some students egged on the would-be aggressors, eager for confrontation and a diversion. More students hung back, seemingly dismayed by this development. Olivia charged in between the two factions, attempting to quell the impending rumble, and she was followed by a few of those who aspired to do the same.
“Alright, already! Break it up.” Olivia muscled her way into the thick of it, and a couple of her students thrust out their hands before them to protect her. Then someone threw a punch. The raised hands deflected the blow, and it glanced off Olivia’s shoulder with only a fraction of its intended force. Still, it was enough to put her off balance. As she fell, some of the students rushed in to catch her. Despite their efforts, she hit the floor, and when she did, all the combatants backed away, horrified at this turn of events.
Olivia lay on the tile floor, dazed. A few of the students fell to their knees, surrounding her. One yelled, “Call 911, damn it, and somebody go get the principal.”
“It was an accident,” another cried, despairingly, as, with horrified eyes, he witnessed the pool of blood seeping from beneath Olivia’s skirt. “She slipped and fell, okay? An accident! Do you hear me?”
Olivia fought her way back to the present. She had unburdened a great deal of baggage, and she was a bit numb. Suddenly weepy, she peered blindly out the window, but the scene continued to unspool in her mind.
Lance broke her trance, urging her to continue. “What happened?”
Olivia sighed, fighting back tears. “I lost the baby. Honestly, I don’t think the fall had anything to do with it. In my heart of hearts, I believe I would have lost it, anyway. But Eric didn’t see it that way. He was furious. He blamed me…said that I was selfish, irresponsible…and so many other hurtful things.”
“Insensitive bastard.” Lance’s eyes smoldered.
Olivia shrugged off his comment. “At the time, his words hit home. I felt incredibly guilty. After all, he’d warned me, and I’d ignored him. It was almost as if fate had handed me the cards…that I deserved exactly what I’d gotten.”
“You don’t believe that.”
Olivia turned a tortured face to him. “At the time, I did.”
Lance met her eyes. “And now?”
“I don’t think that any longer. Now I believe it was a blessing of sorts. Otherwise, I’d still be with Eric. It took that awful thing to begin this process. After that, he became even more controlling. He forbade me to work or do much of anything except tend to his needs. It was claustrophobic; I couldn’t breathe. But when I began clawing my way out of the postpartum depression and started feeling more like myself, I realized I had to get away from him, that there was no possibility of my thriving in that environment. So, I told him I was going, that I wanted out, and he flew into a rage. He grabbed my arms and shook me, screaming that I couldn’t leave him. I broke away, and that was the first time he struck me. It wasn’t the last.”
“Damn it!”
“There were other incidents, but by then I’d made up my mind. I bided my time, all the while deceiving him, letting him feel that he’d won. What I was doing was making plans for my getaway. At the first opportunity, I ran. The rest you know.”
Lance folded his hands on the tabletop before him. “I don’t know what to say. You’ve had such a horrific time of it. I’m surprised you’ve not sworn off men entirely.”
“Which is precisely what Annabelle did.” Olivia smiled a small, sad smile. “I will not make that same mistake.” She threw her head back and took a deep breath, and then returned his gaze. “I realize now that I am so fortunate for having come here, for you delivering me to Charm. In the short time I’ve been here, I truly have begun to heel.”
Lance swallowed hard and knuckled moisture from the corner of his eye. “And I, too, am glad that you landed in our hayfield.”
Olivia chuckled. “It’s taken me all this time to realize that the human heart yearns to trust.”
“And I let you down.”
Olivia shook her head. “You’ve been a bastion of normal. You’ve made me feel…worthy. And you have no idea how attractive, how reassuring, that is.”
“I will never let you down again. I promise you that. I care for you, Livy.”
Olivia shook her head, so emotionally wrought she was afraid of breaking down entirely.
“Look. I know this is too soon for you. But you might as well know it. I’ll wait. Just so long as I can see you…be with you…” Lance took her hand in his. “And when you’re ready—”
“Here we go.” Charlie swooped in with two coffees and a plate of sugar cookies.
Gently, Olivia drew her hand away from Lance’s. “Thanks, Charlie,” she said, turning her tear-stained face to the man whom she’d secretly hoped was her father. “Cookies, Charlie? You shouldn’t have.”
“Nothing but the best for you, dearie!” Charlie regaled, at the same time shooting Lance a warning look.
“Thanks, Charlie,” Lance said. The saloon owner’s message was loud and clear. “We’re good here.”
“Damned well better be,” Charlie muttered as he moved away.
“Let’s just take it slow, okay?” Olivia favored Lance with a watery smile.
“Slow is good,” Lance said. “As long as we’re moving forward.” Then his eyebrows shot up as a thought occurred. “Say, what’re you doing tomorrow night?”
Olivia’s face brightened, and she couldn’t suppress a giggle at Lance’s steadfast perseverance.
It was a mere two and a half weeks before Christmas, and nearly all the snow in Crystal Falls had melted. Frozen mounds of slush had been transformed to rime-crusted, brown puddles, and the steady drip, drip, drip of melting icicles was heard everywhere. But this sad state of affairs, the prospect of a snowless Christmas, didn’t seem to dampen the children’s spirits. They tumbled out of the rehearsal hall and onto the pavement, laughing and shrieking and eager for release.
Lance stood before the row of vehicles parked at the curb, watching as the youngsters streaked past him, searching for their rides.
“Whoo-hoo!” Aiden cried, charging toward the curb.
“Hey there, kid. What’s all the excitement?”
The red-headed moppet skidded to a halt before Lance. “I’m a person! Wait till I tell my parents!” Aiden zoomed into the open door of an awaiting SUV, leaving Lance looking mystified.
Soon, all the children had been picked up and whisked away to their respective homes. All, that is, except for a small Latina who was laden with a backpack that seemed far too heavy for her slight frame to bear. But the girl didn’t seem to mind that she was the last to be picked up or that the load she carried was burdensome. Humming a Christmas carol, she stamped her tiny feet, beating a rhythm in the sloshy, melting snow.
“Hello, there,” Lance called out to her. When she turned to him, Lance caught his breath. The child had the face of an angel! But she did not speak.
“Not supposed to talk to strangers, huh? I get it. Clever girl.”
Framed by thick, black lashes, the child’s eyes were luminous. She turned away from him, concentrating on the street as if willing a parent to appear.
Lance took in the child’s ratty clothing, the too-short sweatpants, the oversized jacket. “I’m waiting for Ms. Olivia,” he said. “Just so you know.”
The girl turned back to him and smiled. “Ms. Olivia nice.”
“Believe me, honey, I think so, too.”
A slight, young woman, her head wrapped in a plaid woolen scarf, appeared from around the corner. She scurried toward the girl.
“Ah.” The girl raised a hand. “Hola, Mama!”
“Amelie,” the woman cried. “Llegue ta rapido como pude.” I came as soon as I could.
“Esta Bien, Mama. No he esperado mucho.” I didn’t wait long.
“How do you do, Ma’am?” Lance said.
“Hello.” The woman turned her attention to Lance, a guarded look in her eyes. “Amelie not bother you?”
“Oh, no.” Lance shook his head vehemently. “She was perfect. Refused to speak to me, as a matter of fact.” He touched a finger to his lips and shook his head.
“Amelie…” The woman frowned at her daughter.
“Which was a very good thing,” Lance rushed to explain. “You’ve taught her well.” He pinched his thumb and index finger together and then brought them to his lips. “She shouldn’t speak to strangers, and that’s a fact.”
Suddenly, the door to the hall opened, and Olivia’s bell-like laugh rang out. She and Rhett, guitar cases in hand, emerged from the building, their heads together. Once outside, Olivia pivoted to lock the door. When she drew away and turned toward the street, she spied the threesome on the curb.
“Lance, I didn’t expect you!” She hurried toward him. “And Amelie. Is this your mother?”
