The next morning, Barbara was struggling to pull a large box of Christmas decorations down off of the top shelf of her guest closest when she heard a knock on her front door. Grumbling to herself, she shoved the stubborn box back far enough to ensure that it wouldn't fall and then headed downstairs. When she opened the door, she found Benton standing on her front porch. He was dressed in faded blue jeans, a brown bomber-style jacket that had seen better days, and a pair of worn brown boots. Snow dusted his hair and he was carrying what looked to be a white pastry box.
"Good morning!" he greeted her cheerfully as he slipped past her into the house before she could think of a thing to say. Handing her the box with a flourish, he closed the door behind him and shrugged out of his coat. "I come bearing brunch and a willing pair of hands."
"A willing pair of hands for what?" she asked, startled.
"To help put up your Christmas decorations. It's never any fun doing it by yourself." Then he gave her a conspiratorial smile and to her astonishment, he blushed slightly. "Furthermore, I have an ulterior motive."
"And what's that?" she demanded with mock sternness, trying to suppress the laughter that was welling up inside of her.
"I help you with yours and you help me with mine?" he said hopefully. She couldn't help herself. In that instant, he looked so much like his son when she first met him that her laughter simply bubbled over.
"You are hopeless!"
"I know. I think it's a disease that I caught at a very young age."
Still laughing, she gestured for him to follow and led the way to the back of the house. They sat at her kitchen table, sharing coffee and homemade Danish, watching it snow, and laughing companionably in a way they hadn't done in months. Finally, Benton tilted his chair back on two legs and stretched mightily. Sitting forward again with a thump, he shoved himself up from the table and picked up their plates, saying, "Well, shall we get started?"
"Actually, I've had another thought," she replied, retrieving their coffee cups and joining him at the sink. "Most of the real work in getting my decorations up are the outside lights and I really don't see trying to put them up in this snow. Why don't we do your place first and then we can do mine later in the week when the weather clears?"
"Well, it's okay with me, but I really don't mind the snow."
"I'm sure you don't, but with the luck you've had recently, I don't want you up on the top of a 25-foot extension ladder in this weather. Race would never forgive me if you fell and broke a leg . . . or your neck!" Then it was her turn to grin impishly. "Furthermore, if we leave right now, there's a good chance that Emily will be awake when we get there, and we can waste some more time playing with the baby."
He shook his head, grinning. "You are such a sucker for kids."
"You betcha. I will let you do one thing for me, though, if you don't mind."
"Name it."
"There's a box that's stuck in the top of the guest room closet. Would you get it down for me?"
"Certainly. Where is it?"
She pointed back toward the front door. "Up the main staircase and then turn to your right. It's the second door on your left. You can't miss it. The box is hanging halfway out of the closet."
"Okay," he said agreeably. "Where do you want me to put it?"
"Just set it on the bed. I haven't had it out in about two years so I'll need to sort through it and figure out what's in there. The guest room is as good a place to do that as any. By the time you get it down, I should be ready to go."
She watched him disappear into the front of the house and then turned back to the sink. As she rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, she smiled to herself. After her behavior of the previous night, she expected to be absolutely mortified when she met him again, but his boyishness and good cheer had short-circuited her embarrassment before it could even get started. And she had to admit that she felt better this morning than she had in weeks.
That thought caused her to frown slightly. You're setting yourself up again, she mused as she dried her hands on a dishtowel. If something happens to him . . .
'Shut up!' her little voice snarled in vexation. She blinked in surprise and then started to laugh aloud, struck by the absolute absurdity of a non-existent voice in her own head being angry with her. "Barbara Mason, you need to get a life!" she chortled and turned to find Benton standing in the doorway grinning at her.
"Well then, let's find you one."
"So, are you doing better?" Estella asked Barbara a short time later.
Barbara smiled at the small, strawberry blonde baby she held, shifting from one foot to another as she rocked her gently. The child waved a tiny fist at her and yawned, her eyes drooping relentlessly. "Such a sleepy little girl," Barbara cooed and was rewarded with another yawn and a final dreamy, blue-eyed look before Emily's eyes closed and she dropped off to sleep. She cuddled the child for a few moments more and then reluctantly returned her to her mother. "She so good. Not an instant's fuss out of her."
Estella laughed. "You should be here at two in the morning! She may be good tempered most of the time, but she's definitely a night owl and when she wants attention, she can bring the walls down."
"You certainly wouldn't know it to see her now."
"No, you wouldn't." her mother said fondly, nuzzling her. "She's momma's good girl." She grinned at Barbara. "You should see Race with her. He's absolutely smitten . . ."
"Oh, like you aren't?"
Estella laughed again and then rose easily from the large family room reading chair. Kissing Emily's head lovingly, she walked over to the makeshift bed in the corner of the big sofa and laid the baby down in the nest of blankets.
"You need a bed down here for her," Barbara commented, thinking of the cradle Benton had purchased the day before.
Estella shook her head. "This does well enough and I really don't want to clutter Benton's home with baby paraphernalia."
"He wouldn't care. You know that. Furthermore, it's your home, too."
"I know. It's just that I still feel a little bad about this sudden influx of young children. I mean, his own kids are barely gone, and all of a sudden he's saddled with a ten-year-old, a five-year-old, and a brand new baby. And he really wasn't asked his opinion about adding them to the household, either. We're just trying to minimize the disruption as much as we can." Changing the subject, she said, "You didn't answer my question."
"I'm better," Barbara acknowledged, perching on a nearby ottoman. "It hasn't been easy, but I think I'm getting my bearings again."
"I'm so sorry about all of this, Barbara. I wish there was something I could have done to help you."
Barbara shrugged. "It's my own fault. I let myself get too close . . . to care too deeply. Any doctor worth her salt knows that if you lose your objectivity or become too deeply involved with a patient, that you're asking for trouble."
"And you class being in love with Benton Quest as trouble?"
Barbara gave her a wry smile. "Well, isn't it?"
"I suppose you have a point. After all, wasn't I the one who told you once that loving one of them is never easy?"
"Amen to that!"
"He does care about you, you know."
"As a friend, nothing more. And don't think I'm complaining," she added hastily when she saw Estella about to protest. "I consider it a high honor that he trusts me as far as he does. Believe me, Estella, I know there are secrets in this place that I'm probably a whole lot better off not knowing. And that's all right. I can get into enough trouble all on my own." She flushed suddenly and her eyes fell. "I suppose he told you about last night."
Estella arched an eyebrow in surprise. "He said the two of you went shopping and then had dinner . . ."
"But he didn't tell you that I went to pieces on him?"
"No, I guess he forgot to mention that," Estella said dryly. "Are you okay now?"
"Yes . . . actually, I feel better than I have in some time. I guess maybe I needed the opportunity to vent a little. The thing is, I all but told him that I loved him, but he didn't respond. Obviously he doesn't feel the same way."
"You 'all but told him', but you didn't say it pointblank?"
"No, of course not."
Estella shook her head. "Barbara, how many times do we have to say it? The man is dense when it comes to relationships. He can see it in others, but you practically have to hit him over the head when it has to do with his own." She looked thoughtful for a minute and then added, "You know what I think? I think that he doesn't consider himself attractive to women."
Barbara stared at her in disbelief. "You must be joking," she exclaimed. "He's one of the most attractive, sexy men I've ever met!"
Estella held up her hands defensively, laughing. "I agree with you completely. But that's beside the point. Do you remember my telling you about what a hard time Jon and Jessie had with their relationship during that first couple of years? Jessie told me later that a lot of it was because Jon couldn't imagine what she could see in him, and was convinced that sooner or later she would get bored and dump him. Benton tends to be the same way. It's another example of father and son being too much alike. He considers himself the egghead scientist with his head stuck in the clouds, and he can't imagine any woman being attracted by that. Outside of scientific circles, I think he considers himself boring. Who knows, maybe it's a holdover from experiences he had in college. It's a blind spot that he has a lot of trouble overcoming. And Race says that women who show undue interest in him make him extremely nervous."
"He must be nervous constantly then!" That caused both of them to laugh.
"The point is, when he's around you, he's different. Hadji was right. You make him happy . . . truly happy . . . in a way he hasn't been since Rachel died. He cares for you, and as more than just a friend, too . . . he simply doesn't realize it yet. You're either going to have to be extremely patient with him or just tell him outright. Personally, I think you should just do it and get it over with."
"And suddenly be relegated to the crowd of women who 'show undue interest'? No thank you. Maybe he is more interested in me than he realizes, but I'm not going to push my luck. If he needs time to acclimate to the idea, then I'll give it to him." She grimaced. "But do you have any idea how hard it is to be so attracted to him and have to act professional when he's standing in front of me stark naked?"
Estella clapped her hand over her mouth, attempting to stifle the ribald laughter and crude comments that immediately came to mind. Barbara just glared at her. "Go ahead, laugh. It's not funny for me!" She sighed. "I tried to talk to him about it last night, but he just wouldn't listen, so it looks like I'm not going anywhere."
The laughter fled Estella's face as she frowned. "'Going anywhere?' Why? Were you looking to move?"
"No, that's not what I meant. I tried to tell him last night that he needs to find himself a new family physician, but he refused to even discuss it."
"Well, I should hope not!" Estella exclaimed indignantly. "Pardon me for saying so, but that's the stupidest idea you've ever come up with. Why in God's name would he want to change doctors? None of us would."
"I told you, Estella. I've lost my objectivity, particularly when it comes to Benton, and that's not a good thing."
"I don't care," she replied stubbornly. "If we wanted pure objectivity we'd see someone that's a shriveled, stuck up old snoot like prune-face over in Camden."
"Estella!"
"Well, I'm sorry, but he is. You're a damned good doctor, Barbara, and we all trust you. There's not one of us that will change, objectivity be damned."
"Is there a problem?" Benton asked as he and Race entered the room carrying a load of boxes.
"Change doctors, my foot!" Estella muttered and then left the room sounding thoroughly miffed.
"Who's changing doctors?" Race asked, confused.
Benton looked at her sternly. "I thought I was clear on this subject last night, Barbara. I won't change doctors." Then he paused, looking at her with a dawning expression of hurt. "Unless you're telling me that you're going to refuse to treat me any longer?"
"No, of course not," she replied hastily, her heart twisting painfully at the look on his face. "Not if -" She sighed. "I just think that, medically, you'd be better off with someone -"
"No."
"Oh, all right," she finally relented. Then she shook her finger at him in mock sternness, trying to lighten the mood. "But if anything goes wrong, you better not sue me!"
Benton grinned at her. "I'll remember. So, do you want to supervise or help?"
"What fun is supervising? I like to root through the boxes!"
The four of them spent the rest of the day working on decorating the huge house for the holidays. They installed a ten-foot spruce in the family room that took them almost three hours to decorate. Vassey and Maia joined them later in the morning, after having gone Christmas shopping with Mrs. Evans. Both were utterly fascinated by the entire concept of Christmas and Maia asked questions about everything. Barbara watched with quiet approval as Race patiently worked with Vassey, showing him everything and coaxing him to try to repeat names of items he helped put on the tree. The child was still refusing to talk, a byproduct of what the two children went through following the death of their parents. But it seemed that they were improving, and both were heard to laugh on occasion. In a quiet aside, Race told her that he'd even managed to get a few whispered words out of Vassey once when they were alone.
No room in the mansion was ignored, and at her suggestion, they even put up a tree in the library, which was most often used as Benton's study. "You spend more time there than you do almost anywhere else in the house," she had told him. "It ought to be properly decorated," to which he laughingly agreed.
It was almost six o'clock and darkness had fallen when she found herself alone in the study putting the finishing touches on a centerpiece of pine boughs, holly, and candles on the huge library table in the center of the room. Flipping off the lights, she lit the candles and then stepped back to survey her handiwork. As she did so, her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the huge portrait of Rachel Quest and her son that dominated the room. It seemed to glow and Barbara wondered when Benton had installed the special lighting. What drew her she would never be able to say, but in the absolute silence that filled the room, she moved out to stand squarely in front of the portrait.
"Why can't you let him go?" she asked softly, staring up at the image of Benton's dead wife. "Hasn't he grieved for you long enough?"
As she stood there, she felt a sudden chill pervade the room and a profound sense of isolation filled her. Fear suddenly stirred in the face of the unnatural silence and Barbara could have sworn that the woman in the picture inclined her head slightly, as if shifting to pay closer attention.
"I love him," she whispered, unsure of what she was doing or why. "You have to know that. And I would care for him the very best I know how. But you have to let me."
She shivered as she felt the chill sweep through her. Barbara shook her head, as if understanding some unspoken protest.
"I would never ask him to forget. Your love made him what he is . . . he and Jon both. To take that away would be to diminish him, and I would never do that. But he needs to learn to live again. Jon is gone now, and so is Hadji. And even though Race and Estella and the others are here, there is still a part of him that feels alone."
Again that nameless chill touched her, only this time it lingered and Barbara could sense a deep, abiding sadness in it. Could she actually be here . . . in this house? Barbara wondered suddenly. Or am I just going crazy? She stared at the picture, mesmerized, while she urged herself to turn and leave the room. But she couldn't seem to move, and almost in spite of herself, she continued.
"He deserves the opportunity to be happy. Please . . . please give me the chance to try to do that for him."
Without warning, the entire room turned frigid and the candles on the table stuttered, as if blown by a sudden draft. Barbara's breath misted in the cold air as she stood, unable to move or utter a sound. She felt that ghostly presence seep into her until she was so chilled it felt like the blood in her veins was starting to freeze.
"Barbara?" His voice shattered the silence and she felt warm air wash over her, but she could still feel the icy presence deep inside of her. "Are you all right? What are you doing standing here in the dark?"
She blinked, suddenly realizing that the ghostly light from the portrait was gone and that she stood in a room lit only by flickering candles and Christmas lights. She swallowed with difficulty, knowing somehow that the ghost in the portrait had been real and that even after all this time, Rachel Quest wasn't gone. Barbara could sense her watchfulness as she forced a brittle laugh. "Admiring my handiwork. What do you think?"
"It's lovely. I don't know that I've ever seen this room look so festive. Was there something wrong with Rachel's portrait?"
Barbara suppressed a shiver as the cold presence within her tensed. "No," she replied with a stiff smile. "I was just thinking about the possibility of putting a lit pine garland around it. It would look nice, I think." She paused for an instant and then something made her add, "You know, every time I see that portrait, I'm struck by how much Jon looks like her."
"Yes, he does," Benton replied, and the other stirred at the tone in his voice. Barbara moved closer, laying a gentle hand on his arm.
"What's wrong?"
He was silent for a moment, gazing up at the picture of his wife in the candlelight. Then, in a tired voice he said, "Jessie just called. She was asking Race and Estella to bring Emily and come to Boston for Christmas. She says that she simply can't get away."
The icy chill that rose to encompass Barbara held the distinct tang of anger this time, but Benton didn't seem to notice anything strange. Struggling against the overwhelming presence, Barbara asked, "Did you talk to her? What about Jon?"
"No, she only wanted to speak to Race, although Estella talked with her, too. According to them, Jon will still be home, but Jessie will stay in Boston."
"Did she say why?"
Benton shrugged. "According to Race, she says she needs the time to finish up the incompletes she was forced to take because she got so behind in her class work while the kids were in Bangalore. It makes sense, I guess. All of her classes domino on each other. If she doesn't clear the incompletes before the start of spring term, she'll probably have to drop about half of what she's pre-registered for and totally rearrange her schedule. I wouldn't want her to have to do that."
Barbara could sense that cold anger growing and she silently urged patience. "So are they going to go?"
"Race says no. He told Jessie that he's sick and tired of her being this way and that if she was going to stay in Boston and pout, she could spend the holidays by herself. But I won't let them do that to her. She doesn't deserve to be cut off from her parents and baby sister because of me."
She patted his arm gently. "Give it a little time, Benton. She's probably feeling overwhelmed right now. Once she has some time to think about it, she may change her mind." And to that ghostly rage that hovered steadily in the recesses of her soul she said silently, Leave this to me.