A Midwinter Fantasy by L. J. McDonald, Leanna Renee Hieber, Helen Scott Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

shook the way his did.
    Not to be deterred, Michael reminded himself of the fact that generally when he smiled at her she could not help but smile back. He lifted one of the two bouquets out from his back, roses of an exquisite deep burgundy, and his cheeks reddened as he presented them. “For you.”
    “Oh, Michael, how lovely! Thank you,” Rebecca said,blushing as well. “Come in, let me put them in water.” She gestured him into her small rooms filled with carved wooden doors and fine rugs, countless books and scattered pieces of art. “Sit, I won’t be but a moment.”
    As she disappeared, Michael withdrew the second bouquet from his back, a cluster of yellow posies, made his way to his favourite chair in the corner of the sitting room, a Queen Anne partly facing the window, and sat. Staring at the Athens courtyard below, snow-covered, with its fountain angel lifting up wings, a book and flowers toward heaven, he silently asked the statue for her benediction.
    There was rustling in the pantry. Michael shifted the flowers upon his knees, unsure what to say when Rebecca emerged.
Good God, this could not be more difficult if I were sixteen
, he thought wearily.
Why I didn’t press my claim at sixteen I’ll never know
.
    Rebecca returned with the flowers in a vase and set them on a carved wooden table. Turning to Michael, she raised an eyebrow at the second bouquet.
    “For Jane,” he murmured. “It isn’t as if we can ignore our grief. It rules our hearts at the moment.”
    Rebecca blinked back tears. “Indeed. It would be nice to lay them on her tomb.” She paused, then said, “I would offer you tea, but I simply must get out of these rooms. I’ve entirely shut myself away here—”
    “I know.”
    She looked at the ground. “Yes, I suppose you do. I am sorry if not admitting you before seemed rude. I was . . . I
am
unfit for company.”
    “I’ve never thought so.”
    If anyone had ever seen her truly vulnerable, unfit for company, it had been he. He’d always made himself availableat times of her need. He wondered if she resented that—or feared it.
    She glanced at him. There was an uncomfortable silence.
    Michael rose and brandished the flowers, moving to the door. “Jane always would exclaim about yellow flowers whenever we passed them in the street, even en route to an exorcism or poltergeist. I bought her some for her birthday, once, and now I’m ashamed I didn’t buy them for her all the time.” He opened the door and gestured Rebecca into the hall.
    “I’m ashamed of a great deal,” she replied, following his lead. Her voice was thick. Starting down the stairs, they descended to floor level.
    “You mustn’t be. Not about Prophecy, not about Jane, none of it. Whatever you fear, none of us has ever been perfect.”
    “My gift failed, Michael. It failed because of my frailty. Would you tell Judas Iscariot not to be ashamed?”
    They crossed the foyer, devoid of students gone on holiday, and rounded the corner toward Athens Chapel. Michael shrugged. “We’ve all of us parts to play. And you hardly sent a messiah to His death. Are you
still
grieving over choosing Miss Linden as Prophecy over Percy? Haven’t we moved on?”
    Rebecca looked sharply at him. “The part of the betrayer was never a part I wanted.”
    “I daresay Judas wasn’t fond of it either, but it was necessary.” He wagged a finger at her. “But don’t go equating yourself to scripture, Headmistress; our dramas are not played on so grand a stage. And remember: that same gift went on to save Percy’s life.”
    Rebecca sighed. “I suspect you’ll be taking my ongoing confessions for some time. The past months weigh upon me so.”
    “It will be my pleasure,” he replied.
    She offered him a slight smile and looked away. He wanted so desperately to touch her, but the chasm between their bodies seemed impossible to cross.
    The chapel of Athens Academy was white and modest, with a plain table draped in white linen for