Angel's Rest

chapter SEVEN





Demon dreams woke Gabe a week before Christmas and sent him down into town even earlier than his norm. He almost took the day off completely to spend it skiing or hiking or chopping wood—anything physically demanding that would purge the ghosts from his mind. But since today’s chore was hauling rocks, which would both serve his physical needs and create something worthwhile in the process, work held more appeal than sports.

The morning dawned in a palette of pinks and purples above evergreen mountains dusted with snow. The air was cold, the wind quiet. It was a place of beauty and peace, and Gabe sensed the tension within himself easing as he approached Eternity Springs.

For no real reason, he decided to take the loop around the lake on the way to Cavanaugh House.

Formed hundreds of years ago by an earth slide that dammed Angel Creek, Hummingbird Lake was one of the most picturesque places Gabe had ever seen. A little less than a mile around, the lake had been sapphire blue and surrounded by the golds and oranges and greens of autumn when Gabe arrived in town. Today it was an expanse of white ringed with Christmas trees and brought to life by a slight figure dressed in red and black.

Gabe watched the skater fly across the ice. He needed to try that. He’d been on ice skates only twice in his life—both times as boy when his folks took the family to the indoor ice rink in downtown Fort Worth. Competent Rollerbladers, the Texan Callahan boys had all taken to the ice like Minnesotans. Surely he could pick it up again without too much effort.

The skater straightened out of a tucked position, and in that moment he knew it was her. Knew he should stay away.

Drawn by forces he had no will to resist, he turned in to the park on the west side of the lake. He pulled up beside her truck, grabbed his cup of coffee, and stepped out into the cold. Leaning against the front of his jeep, he watched Nicole Sullivan skate toward him.

“Good morning,” she called, smiling brightly, her breath creating clouds of vapor on the air.

“Hi.”

It was just about the only word he could manage. The woman wore leggings and a sweater that clung to her ample, tantalizing curves. She was breathing heavily.

“Did you come to skate?” she asked, tugging off red-and-black earmuffs.

He shook his head, took a sip of coffee, then asked, “Should you be out here by yourself? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I’m not alone,” she replied, pointing toward the shoreline across the lake and waving. Two figures waved back. “Sarah and her daughter, Lori, are with me.”

“Oh. I didn’t see them.” He’d had eyes for only Nic. It was the first time he’d seen her since being trapped in the basement four days ago.

She skated to the edge of the lake, then stepped onto land, walking as naturally in skates as she did in high heels. “They challenged me to a race, but then gave up when I took a substantial lead.” The grin she flashed was saucy and warmed him as surely as the coffee. “I am good, Callahan.”

“I don’t doubt that one bit.”

She walked to a nearby bench piled high with shoes and outerwear, sat down, and unlaced her skates. Gabe’s gaze focused on her foot, and for a moment he was back in the basement with his hands on her leg.

“So what brings you to Hummingbird this early in the day?” she asked.

Distracted, he said, “Hmm?”

“If you didn’t come to skate, are you here to go ice fishing?”

“Oh.” He shook his head. “No. I was just taking the long way to work. It’s a pretty morning. Beautiful.” Beautiful. She was beautiful, with her cheeks rosy, her blue eyes sparkling, and her blond ponytail sliding like silk over her shoulders. Her petite but lush curves were on glorious display in the tight-fitting clothes. His fingers itched to reach out and touch.

His own body had gone hard as a rock, and he knew he needed to leave. Right now.

“It is gorgeous today. When Sarah called and said she’d decided to let Lori cut class this morning so they could go skating and they wanted me to tag along, I couldn’t say no. I haven’t enjoyed winter very much lately, and I’m determined to change that this year.

“If the hot springs weren’t overrun with contractors building your park, I’d insist we hit the pools next. A long, hot soak sounds heavenly right now.” She extended her leg and wiggled her toes. “My feet are freezing again.”

Gabe took a step back, both mentally and physically. “I would think you’d learn to keep your shoes on.”

“Good point, Callahan.” She shoved her feet into sheepskin-lined boots, then stood and pulled on a coat, which allowed Gabe to breathe easier. “We’re heading over to the Mocha Moose for breakfast. Would you like to join us?”

He glanced out at the lake and spied Sarah and her daughter skating toward them. They were laughing and holding hands. Gabe realized he wanted to say yes. He wanted to say yes so badly that there was really only one response he could give. “No, thanks. I’d better get to work.”

He retreated to his Jeep, gave a wave, and said, “Enjoy your day.”

He accidentally spun the tires as he left the park’s parking lot. As he drove toward the heart of town, he had to consciously loosen his viselike grip on the steering wheel. “What’s the matter with you?” he muttered aloud.

Oh, he knew what the matter was with him. After almost a year of absence, his libido had awakened. Fierce. Ferocious. Hungry.

He filled his lungs with air, then exhaled in a rush. His body wanted sex. Sweaty, physical, down-and-dirty sex.

His mind wanted sweaty, physical, down-and-dirty sex with Jen.

That he couldn’t have. Never again. Jen, his beloved Jen, was gone.

So what are you going to do about it, Callahan? the devil on his shoulder asked.

The still-grieving husband answered aloud. “This morning I intend to move a ton of rock.” After a glance at the dashboard thermometer, he added, “In twelve-degree weather.”


On the afternoon of December 23, Celeste Blessing invited the entire town of Eternity Springs to a Christmas open house, to share company and good cheer and to see the progress of the renovations. Evergreen garlands and wreaths sporting big red bows welcomed visitors as they arrived. Rumor had it that she’d imported the life-sized crèche erected on the front lawn from Italy.

Inside Cavanaugh House, the aroma of hot gingerbread perfumed the air and holiday decorations abounded. Most were true Victorian antiques unearthed from the boxes and crates now cleared from the downstairs rooms. Celeste had added her own touches, however, and as a result, angels in one form or another could be found in every room.

With kitchen renovations completed and with Sarah’s and Lori’s help, Celeste had baked for days in preparation for the party. Tables all but groaned beneath the weight of cookies and cakes, fudge and candy. Throughout the afternoon, Nic hovered near the sugar cookies on the entry hall table, not because of a sweet tooth attack but out of a desire to keep a close eye on arrivals. The person she waited for never arrived. When she heard the grandfather clock strike five, she finally admitted to herself that Gabe wasn’t coming.

He’d pulled away from both her and Eternity Springs in recent days. Now he habitually wrapped up his work day at Cavanaugh House prior to Nic’s afternoon arrival. He left more of the renovation work to hired help and stopped eating his meals in town. Guides saw him snowmobiling in the back country a couple of times, and Dale Parker swore that the crazy ice climber spotted near Sinner’s Prayer Pass during the snowstorm last week had been none other than Gabe Callahan.

Since their meeting at Hummingbird Lake, Nic had seen him only once, at the town meeting on the twentieth when Celeste publicly announced plans for her healing center and Gabe showed up at the older woman’s request. He’d brought preliminary sketches of his hot springs park and had gone out of his way to avoid Nic.

As Nic eyed a plate of chocolate fudge a few feet away, Celeste approached carrying two crystal punch cups filled with eggnog. Handing one to her, she said, “I had so hoped Gabe would join us today. He should hear the compliments everyone is paying his design now that they’ve had the opportunity to look over his plans. Your idea to create the display in the music room was inspired.”

“If I’d known he’d be AWOL, I’d have reconsidered. People are excited, but now they have even more questions. I expected Gabe to be here to answer them.” Then, because his absence made her sad and this was supposed to be a party, she deliberately turned her back to the door and changed the subject. “Tell me about your angel collection, Celeste. You must have hundreds of them. How long have you been collecting them?”

“Heavens, I don’t know. Decades, certainly. I never made a conscious decision to create a collection. Actually, the vast majority of my angels have been gifts from friends and acquaintances. It seems that people simply like to give me angels.”

Nic smiled wryly and sipped her eggnog. The gift she’d placed under Celeste’s tree was an angel she’d picked up at an arts-and-crafts fair over in Durango.

“Now, back to Gabe,” Celeste said. “Nic, that poor man shouldn’t be alone on Christmas. I’ve invited him to join our services tomorrow night, but since he has skipped the open house, I don’t hold out much hope.”

She touched Nic’s arm, and a solemn look replaced the usual twinkle in her light blue eyes. “Nicole, I think you should go up to Eagle’s Way tomorrow and personally invite Gabe to join us. Bring him down from the mountain to church tomorrow night, dear. He shouldn’t be alone.”

He shouldn’t be alone.

The statement played through Nic’s mind the rest of the night and was the first thing she thought of when she awoke Christmas Eve. She didn’t know what to do. While she hated the thought of his being by himself on this first Christmas without his family, she also respected the man’s right to privacy. If he wanted to hole up in his mountain retreat and grit through this holiday, who was she to suggest otherwise?

She understood that feeling. Hadn’t she been the same way that first Christmas after her divorce? She’d wanted to spend the day in bed with the covers pulled over her head, and she’d almost done just that. Except she’d had a friend who wouldn’t allow it. Sarah Reese had poked her and prodded her and all but dragged her by her hair to Christmas Eve dinner with her family, followed by midnight services at St. Stephen’s.

It had been there, in a tiny old candlelit church on a snowy Christmas Eve, with the fragrance of incense drifting on the air and the dulcet strains of “Silent Night” rising toward the rafters, that she first experienced not just a lessening of pain but the healing peace she’d come to associate with Eternity Springs.

Gabe Callahan needed that healing peace more than anyone she’d ever known.

He’d lost his wife, his little boy. Maybe Celeste was right. Maybe she should be a friend to him the way Sarah had been to her.

Nic considered it throughout her morning as she made appetizers to take to Sage’s open house that evening, while she wrapped the last of the gifts she intended to deliver after lunch, and while she tended to a sick dog at the clinic. When her mom called to wish her a merry Christmas from aboard ship on the Caribbean cruise she’d taken with her sister and friends, Nic poured the whole story out to her and asked her advice.

“Honey.” Mom clicked her tongue. “It’s Christmas in Eternity Springs. That’s like magic for the soul. Go get him, sugarplum. This is your chance to change his life.”

Twenty minutes later, with a Santa hat on her head and a prayer on her lips, Nic Sullivan headed up to Eagle’s Way.


When Gabe woke up and realized it was Christmas Eve, he considered heading out into the forest to find a bear’s den where he could huddle up and hibernate for the next week or so. Unfortunately, he had company coming, so he couldn’t do that. But as he threw off the covers he admitted to himself that this plan of Pam’s had merit, and a slight sense of anticipation ran along his nerves. As much as he dreaded this Christmas holiday, he would be glad to see Pam and Will and their son, Nathan.

The idea of facing Christmas alone made him cringe. While his head was in a much better place now than it had been back in September, that deep, dark pit was always out there waiting for him.

His visitors’ flight was due to arrive in Crested Butte at two o’clock this afternoon. Gabe planned to leave here by eleven, giving himself plenty of time to get there before the plane landed.

He rolled out of bed, then stopped short and sighed. The dog lay curled up in front of the floor vent, as close to the heat as possible. “Why won’t you stay where you’re put?”

The boxer perked up his ears and thumped his crooked tail but didn’t lift his head from the floor.

Gabe shook his head and headed for the shower. The dog had managed to hitch a ride with him following the town meeting the other night, and he hadn’t noticed until he’d parked the Jeep in the garage at Eagle’s Way. “That’s what happens when you let yourself get distracted by a woman,” he muttered as he gave the hot water spigot a twist.

And yet, as he showered and shaved and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, he couldn’t find it in himself to care that the dog persisted in pestering him. Not today. Truth be told, he’d be glad to have the company when he tackled the task that awaited him downstairs.

Yesterday he’d hiked up the hill behind the house, cut down a ten-foot fir tree, dragged it downhill and inside, and set it up in the great room. He hadn’t had the guts to approach the boxes he’d had sent from Virginia. They sat on the floor like booby traps waiting to explode.

Gabe fortified himself with two cups of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal before making his way to the great room. His gaze took in the tree, then settled on the boxes. He could wait until the others got here to do this, but there was no sense putting them through the pain. Besides, this felt like something he should do himself.

“Ah, Jen,” he murmured. “This is so hard.”

Bracing himself, he opened his pocketknife and slit the sealing tape on one of the boxes, then pulled back the flaps. The red cardboard box lay nestled among white Styrofoam packing worms. Gabe exhaled a heavy sigh and lifted it free. A familiar hand had written the words Ornaments, stockings, tablecloth in permanent marker across the box. He removed the red box and set it aside. He’d take on the other box first.

The second box was green and contained lights for the tree. You can do this. His throat tight, Gabe started with the multicolored C-4 bulbs, then proceeded to the twinkle lights and finally the bubble lights. Memories tested his mental defenses, but he battled them back, knowing the danger of starting down that road. That way there be dragons.

With the last string of bubble lights fixed to the tree, he stepped back and observed his work. Despite his best efforts, a tiny voice ghosted, Daddy, Daddy, look! They’re starting to bubble! Bubble bubble bubble bubble.

He had to turn away.

He wandered to the window, shoved his hands in his back pockets, rocked on his heels, and stared blindly out at the brilliant white peaks as memories bombarded him. Jen had loved Christmas. Shoot, she’d been a bigger kid about the holiday than Matt. Every year she’d helped Gabe hang the outdoor lights the weekend after Thanksgiving. Every year they decorated the tree on December first. Every year they lit candles on an Advent wreath and followed a seasonal prayer guide at the beginning of their evening meal.

And Matty … oh, dear Lord, Matty. His joy during the Christmas season knew no bounds. He scrambled out of bed every morning and opened the appropriate door on the Advent calendar even before he dashed to the toilet to pee. He walked around the house yelling “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas” for weeks, and he could quote an amazing amount of dialogue from the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer movie. For as long as he lived, Gabe would never forget his son on his last Christmas morning. Dressed in the goofy Santa’s elf pajamas—complete with a pointy hat—that his mother had bought him, Matt had stood before the Christmas tree totally silent. He visibly shook with excitement.

Tears stung Gabe’s eyes. He closed them and rested his forehead against the cold windowpane, wondering if he could talk his in-laws into skipping Christmas, just pretend it wasn’t happening. They could all hit the slopes tomorrow and wear themselves out. Avoid the holiday altogether.

The idea held an undeniable appeal.

He glanced back over his shoulder toward the Christmas tree and wished for the millionth time that God would turn the clock back, let him have that moment over again when he’d reacted just a tragic moment too slow.

He felt a nudge against his legs, and Gabe smiled down sadly at the goofy-looking boxer dog. The dog licked his hand, then Gabe scratched him behind the ears and sighed. “Might as well get this over with, hadn’t we, dog?”

Gabe heaved a heavy sigh, braced himself, and returned to work. Lifting the cover off a box, he absorbed the impact of the contents. Reverently he lifted from the box the tablecloth they’d signed with their names, date, and a message or drawing with paint pens every Christmas Eve. He swallowed hard when he uncovered the three stockings Jen had made from red and green felt. His lips twisted with a crooked smile as he brushed his thumb over the tiny charcoal grill she’d made for his stocking.

Next he tackled the box of ornaments and reached for a crystal heart engraved with the words “Our First Christmas Together” with a trembling hand.

He got it on the tree. He managed the Baby’s First Christmas ornament and a dozen other memory-laden decorations. Just when he thought he might actually make it through the task, he found Matt’s Rudolf. Made from a white paper plate colored with brown crayon, it had a red felt circle for a nose, plastic glue-on eyes, and antlers formed by the outline of a kindergartner’s hands. Of Matt’s hands.

“Dear Lord.” Gabe’s knees gave out. He sank to the floor, breathing as if he’d run a marathon. He wanted to curl up in a fetal position and whimper.

Instead, when the dog approached him and attempted to lick his face, Gabe wrapped his arms around the boxer’s neck and held on, hugging him tight. He allowed the memories to come.

How long he sat there, lost in the past, he didn’t know. It must have been awhile. At some point, though, he heard his cell phone ringing. He was tempted to ignore it, but with his family traveling, he didn’t dare. He fished the phone from his pocket, checked the display. Sure enough, it was Pam.

He tensed and dragged his hand along his jaw. “Hello?”

“Hi, Gabe.”

“Hey, Pam. Are you calling from the airport?”

“I wish.” She hesitated just long enough that his heart sank. “I have crummy news. Nathan broke his leg. We’re not going to make it to Colorado for Christmas.”

“Ah, Pam. That poor kid. What happened?”

“He wasn’t paying attention and slipped on the ice. He’ll be okay, but he’s really uncomfortable and traveling is out of the question. I’m so sorry, Gabe. We really wanted to be with you today and tomorrow. I needed to be with you.”

Gabe braced himself and asked, “Do you want me to come there?”

“No, we’ll be okay. I’m worried about you, though.”

His gaze drifted toward the half-decorated tree. “I’ll be okay, too,” he told her, knowing he lied. “You just take good care of Nate. Tell him I said he’s supposed to break his leg when he’s on the slopes, not before he gets there.”

They spoke a few more minutes, then ended the call. Gabe gave in to the craving and poured himself a stiff drink.

It wasn’t until he’d finished his first and started on the second that he sank onto the sofa in the great room, torturing himself with more memories sparked by decorations on the tree. He was sipping a third drink when he spied his laptop sitting on Jack Davenport’s desk. His gaze locked on the computer, never straying as he finished his scotch.

Then, motivated by a self-destructive need he didn’t understand but could no longer fight, he poured a fourth drink and connected the computer to Davenport’s home theater system.

It was 12:43 P.M. when Gabe clicked on My Videos.


Nic stared at the gate that barred access to Murphy Mountain and Eagle’s Way. The other time she’d traveled this road, the gate had stood open. Today it was locked up tight.

Good thing she’d come prepared. Before leaving home, she’d phoned Alton Davis, the snowplow driver Jack Davenport contracted with to clear the private roads on Murphy Mountain, for the current gate code.

Nic rolled down her window, punched the numbers into the keypad, and waited for the gate to swing open. She drove over the bridge spanning the creek and headed along the road toward the sprawling log house.

The afternoon was cold and gray with the promise of snow at any moment. Eagle’s Way was bright with light, and smoke curled from one of four chimneys rising above the green metal rooftop. As she parked her truck in the circular front drive and opened the door, she heard the faint sound of Christmas carols drifting on the air. That surprised her. The first Christmas after her marriage broke up, she did everything she could to avoid the sounds of the season.

Maybe Gabe wasn’t as upset as she and Celeste had expected.

Nic retrieved the wrapped gift she’d brought him—one of Sarah’s Black Forest cakes—and made her way up the front steps. She rang the doorbell and waited.

The door swung open. A handful of seconds dragged by like hours as Gabe stood watching her and not speaking. He looked … disturbed. Finally he took a step back, gestured for her to enter, then shut the door behind her, all without saying a word.

Nic gazed around the great room, and her hackles went up. A hidden stereo played instrumental carols. Lights blinked and bubbled on a ten-foot-tall spruce standing before the wall of windows. Flames danced and logs crackled in the huge stone hearth on the back wall of the great room, and from its mantel hung a pair of stockings. Nic read the names. Mom. Matt.

Something hard and brittle glittered in Gabe Callahan’s eyes. He had a drink in his hand and danger oozed from his pores.

Suddenly Nic felt more like Red Riding Hood than one of Santa’s elves. She licked her dry lips, then held out the package. “Merry Christmas.”

When he didn’t move to take the gift, she set it down on the table beside the door and waited.

A muscle jerked at his temple. Finally, just when she thought he’d never speak, he asked, “Why are you here?”

She smelled the alcohol on his breath. She opened her mouth intending to invite him to Christmas Eve services, but as their gazes caught and held, different words emerged. “I didn’t want you to be alone,” she told him. “I don’t want to be alone. It’s Christmas.”

“Christmas,” he repeated after a long moment, the word sounding like a curse on his lips. His gaze never left hers as he tossed back the rest of his drink, then set the empty glass on top of the package she’d brought. “What Christmas is, woman, is hell.”

He moved toward her and she instinctively backed away until the door was at her back. His voice sounded low and gruff and a little slurred as he added, “And I’m feeling like the damned devil himself.”

Then he kissed her.

His mouth was hot and savage, and Nic’s senses reeled. Part of her was frightened. He was bigger than her, stronger than her. They were alone, miles away from anyone, and Gabe Callahan could do whatever he wanted with her. She was totally at his mercy.

Except she wasn’t afraid. She was … excited.

This was the man who’d rescued a wounded dog from a bear trap. The man who’d put himself at risk to save two boys from a fire. The man who had warmed her feet against his bare stomach.

He would not hurt her. He was missing his family and he needed a human connection. He needed her.

So Nic kissed him back. Her hands moved to his shoulders, and she met his thrusting tongue with her own. He tasted of whiskey and loneliness, of anguish and despair. He was another wounded animal, and in this moment, if only for a moment, she had the power to soothe his pain.

His hands gripped her waist, and he lifted her off the floor and back against the door, pressing his body against hers and holding her aloft.

His kiss was carnal and hungry, and when he finally released her mouth, it was to feast at her neck. She felt the scrape of his teeth against her skin, and skitters of pleasure assaulted her. Nic arched her neck, gasped for breath, closed her eyes, and gave herself up to the magic he made.

She needed this, too. She needed to be needed. Greg’s betrayal had damaged her, and she wanted to feel wanted again.

Gabe’s hand cupped her breast, kneading and squeezing, almost too hard, but not quite.

She slipped a little and he yanked her back up, pressing his hips hard against her. His erection felt like steel. His fingers curled around the placket of her oxford shirt and he yanked, sending buttons flying. He ripped her bra, exposing her breast. He lifted it, took her into his mouth, and sucked her hard.

She shuddered. She wrapped her legs around him, wrapped her arms around him, and held on for dear life. Nic moaned, long and low in her throat. He answered with a growl.

At some point they slid to the floor and lay atop the braided rug that decorated the entry. At some point he stripped them both naked. Cold rose from the floor beneath her. Heat radiated from the man rising above her. When he plunged into her, Nic was on fire.

He took her fast and hard and rough, his hips pumping, his breathing harsh. Tension built within her as she watched him, wild, angry animal that he was. Eyes closed, he threw back his head, cords of muscle in his neck, shoulders, and arms standing out in hard relief as he drove himself into her, again and again and again.

Her own passion swelled and answered his thrusts. The delicious tension stretched. Grew taut. Almost. Almost. It’s been so long.

But even as she hung there at the very edge, he plunged one final time and cried out through gritted teeth. Cried out in pain and found release within her.

Heart pounding and aching for completion, Nic held her breath and watched him. The moment felt dangerous somehow. She didn’t dare to move. On the stereo, Frank Sinatra sang “O Holy Night.”

Slowly Gabe lowered his head. He opened his eyes and looked at her, dazed, as if he didn’t know who she was or where they were. Then, slowly, he focused. The dry, empty pools of brown filled first with pain, then with horror, and finally with tears.

Gabe Callahan wrenched himself out of her, away from her, rolling over onto his back. He flung his forearm over his eyes, breathing hard as if he’d run ten miles. His shoulders shook.

His whole body shuddered. The sound that escaped his lips was the most raw, mournful noise she’d ever heard.

It shook her from her stupor. She sat up. She touched him. Scooted beside him. She gathered his head and shoulders to her breast, rocking softly, saying softly, “It’s okay, Gabe. It’s okay.”

He shuddered silently.

She stroked his back and murmured soothingly, repeating over and over again, “It’s okay.”

He turned and wrapped his arms around her, buried his head against her, and cried harsh sobs that tore from his heart and ripped from his soul. Hot, bitter tears flowed from him like poison. Nic cradled him against her, rocking him, cooing soothing sounds, stroking his head and his shoulders. Her own eyes filled and overflowed.

How long they cried together, she would never know. Two minutes? Ten? Two hours? It was a moment out of time. The most intimate moment she had ever experienced. It was the saddest moment she’d ever known.

Until the afternoon got even sadder, when Gabe finally quieted, when he rolled away from her, turned away, and said in a quiet, raspy voice, “Please leave. I’m sorry. But please. Just leave.”

It hurt, but Nic understood his need to be alone. She wiped off her tears, gathered her clothes, and slipped quietly out into the cold.