Page 76 of I Do, I Do, I Do
“You have the rest of our lives to think of something,” he said, grinning.
The words stabbed her like an icicle. She was still standing stricken in the doorway when he turned on the road to wave good-bye.
Instead of going back to bed, she returned to the dying fire and blinked hard at the low flames. Ben was so perfect for her in every way. And she flattered herself that she could be so perfect for him.
Now she knew why Zoe cried into her pillow every night.
Her desire for solitude and privacy lasted as long as it took to sleep for a few hours and treat herself to another tub bath. Then the chaos of her thoughts against a backdrop of quiet began to scrape at her nerves. She kept thinking how much Clara and Zoe would enjoy a real tub and being warm and sitting down to a meal at a table. Sighing deeply, she set out her snowshoes and when Luc appeared, she asked him to fetch Clara and Zoe.
A swirl of falling snow followed them inside when they arrived, cold-cheeked and stamping snow off their feet.
“This is a palace!” Zoe marveled. “I can turn around without tripping over Clara’s night case.”
“Look at this stove!” Clara called from the kitchen. She lifted the lid off a bubbling pot and inhaled the steam. “Not bad, not too bad at all. You’ve made a good start. But this stew will be wonderful when I finish with it.”
“I knew you’d say that.” Laughing, Juliette took their coats and mittens and hung them on the hall tree. “The best is yet to come.” Beckoning, she escorted them to the bedroom, made them cover their eyes, then said, “Look.”
“A bathtub!” they cried in unison. And then, “I’m first!”
“There’s plenty of time,” Juliette said. “We have two whole days.”
“Well, well.” Bending, Clara picked an object off the floor and held it to the light glowing through the ice block window. “A shirt stud. And here’s another. Looks like it was raining shirt studs in here.” Her eyebrow arched suggestively.
The smile vanished from Juliette’s lips. “I…”
“You don’t have to explain anything.” Zoe glared at Clara and then studied Juliette’s hot cheeks. She gave Juliette a hard embrace before she walked out of the bedroom. “I’ll put on some water to heat for the tub.”
Clara fell backward on the bed and flung out her arms. She stared at the ceiling. “It isn’t fair. The two of you are carrying on, and I haven’t even been kissed!” She threw the shirt studs at the ice block. “Damn!”
Juliette sank to the edge of the bed and folded her hands in the lap of the everyday dress they had packed for her. She lowered her head. “Ben loves me, Clara. And I love him. He left here believing that we belong to each other.” A tear rolled down her cheek and dropped on her clasped hands. “He believes we’ll spend the rest of our lives together.”
Finally Clara sighed and gently patted her back. “I’m sorry. Maybe it will work out somehow.”
“No, it won’t,” Zoe said quietly, returning to the doorway. “Even if Tom and Ben could forgive us for not telling them about Jean Jacques, they won’t be able to forgive us for not being the honorable women they thought we were. Oh, Juliette. I understand what you’re feeling, and I’m so, so sorry.”
Zoe dropped down beside her, and they reached blindly for each other, bursting into tears.
Chapter 18
Two dozen men climbed through the deep snow covering the hills flanking Linderman Lake and brought back a Yule log and enough firewood to burn until midnight on Christmas Eve. It was a grand celebration, with singing around the Yule flames beneath a clear frozen night lit by a million points of distant star-fire.
On Christmas day, Bear and his team won the tug-of-war. Tom placed second in the sled races. Clara’s chocolate cake won the baking contest, and Zoe took second with her apple bread pudding.
“You’ve all won prizes,” Juliette called as everyone lined up for the couple’s sack race. “Now it’s our turn.”
“We’re going to win this one,” Ben promised, grinning.
“Sorry, the victory will be ours,” Tom shouted. But he and Zoe were already tangled in the burlap sack and Zoe’s skirts, and laughing so hard it was doubtful they would hear the starter’s gun.
“No one can beat me and this little gal,” Bear boomed, slipping his arm around Clara’s waist. He smiled down at her. “I like being tied to you.”
“I like it, too,” Clara said, a bit distracted.
She had spotted Jake Horvath’s acne-pitted face in the crowd of spectators. Malice burned in his stare. Two days ago Clara had passed Horvath talking to a group of men as she was taking a loaf of Christmas bread to Mrs. Eddington. She’d overheard him swearing that he would get even with Bear if it was the last thing he did. When Horvath saw her, he’d stepped away from the men to spit near Clara’s hem. Shock had widened her eyes. Apparently she was now included in his threats.
The starter raised his pistol. “On your mark, get set—go!” The gun fired and two dozen couples, their legs tied inside burlap sacks, hopped forward while cheers erupted from the sidelines.
Clara’s mind was still on Horvath, and she didn’t pay attention as she should have. Within five steps, her heel slipped on an ice patch and she fell, pulling Bear down with her. Laughing, they lay face-to-face on the snow-packed ground.
