December 24, 1904

I stand in the foyer of Aaron Chandler's house, my eyes darting from the holly garland decorating the stair rail to the towering Christmas tree glistening from the parlor. I inwardly cringe; I feel so out of place! Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd be spending Christmas in the home of my arch-nemesis, of my father's longtime business rival. Not that they have any idea, of course… Father thinks I'm staying with Aunt Rebecca, and the Chandlers have no idea who I really am.

Helen emerges on the stairs in the same bright blue dress she wore to my graduation party. "I'm so happy you could come." Her gaze drops as she giggles, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Mother and Father are excited to meet you." She throws her arms around me, and her lips brush against mine.

We break apart as someone coughs loudly. I turn to find a tall blond blue-eyed man staring back at me. He looks exactly like my archrival; I know he can only be Helen's father. A round-faced woman with auburn curls like Helen's appears at his side, and a doddering old man with a cane hobbles over behind them. "So you're the man who's stolen my daughter's heart?" the blond man laughs. "I'm Adam Chandler." He gives my arm a firm pump before turning to the man and woman standing beside him. "This is my wife Charlotte-" Mrs. Chandler smiles sweetly. "And my father Aaron." So this is the man my father's spent a lifetime hating… he seems harmless. The frail old man nods politely, though his eyes remain hard. My heart stops dead. Does he know who I am?

"I'm Cal." Mr. Chandler stops shaking my hand. "Cal… uh…" I'm not stupid enough to give him my real name. I glance behind him, half-expecting that bastard Anthony to appear and call my bluff, but there's no sign of him. "McGrady." I give him my mother's maiden name; it was the first one I could think of.

"Like hell you are," a familiar voice rises. I turn around to find Anthony Chandler standing at the top of the stairs, wearing his ever-present insolent glare. "His name's not McGrady, Father." He sneers as he adds, "It's Hockley."

A faint whisper ripples through the room; Mr. Chandler and the old grandfather exchange a look. Mrs. Chandler gasps, while Helen just stares stricken back at her brother; he flashes a sick triumphant smile before disappearing back down a hallway. "Mr. Hockley." Mr. Chandler's eyes change. He beckons to the butler and whispers something inaudible in his ear.

"Allow me to show you to your room, sir,' the butler offers, picking up my valise. I follow him up the stairs and down a long corridor. He ushers me into a small cramped room, setting my bag on the rickety bed with a loud THUNK! I stare after him as he turns away without a word. I chuckle sardonically as I recall the family's abrupt attitude change toward me. It's as if they turned into different people upon hearing my name. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised they stuck me in the worst room…

I hear angry voices rising farther down the hall as I stare out the window at the darkening sky. "…falling for the enemy…" a man's voice shouts. That voice is too deep to be Chandler's; it must be the father's, or the grandfather's. "…a complete disgrace to this family…" That sounds exactly like something my father would say. "…you will end this…"

"No! I won't do it!" a female voice answers. "I love him…" I know that voice…Helen! My heart drops as a hauntingly familiar dull whack follows, and I have a sneaking suspicion someone's just struck her.

The doorknob rattles, making me jump slightly. I fumble with the lamp on the nightstand as a shadowed figure appears in the doorway, and I see her… her dressing gown sweeping the floor behind her, her reddish-brown hair braided down her back.

"Helen…" She moves into the light, and I can see a darkening bruise over her eye. A pang of guilt wrings my heart; she got that injury because of me.

"Grandpapa…" Her gaze drops, and so does her voice as she continues, "He insisted I break it off with you. I said no and…"

My hands ball into fists as blind fury seizes me. When I get my hands on Aaron Chandler, I'll tear him apart! "Cal, don't!" Helen grabs my arm, yanking me back with all her might. "He'll hurt you, I know!"

She looks at me with pleading eyes, and I have to turn away… I can barely bring myself to look in those eyes. I sigh as I slump back onto the bed; there is a loud ghostly creak as Helen sits beside me. My fist relaxes as she gently takes my hand in both her own. The old man doesn't deserve mercy, but I can't make Helen endure any more pain because of me…

I pull her close as a wave of sadness crashes over me. She winces slightly as the injured side of her face rests against my chest. The sound tears at my heart as all the beatings I've suffered at the hands of my father flash through my mind. I know how she feels. My eyes are suddenly wet as I bury my face in her auburn hair; I don't trust myself to speak…

"Maybe Grandpapa's right…" Helen says in a small voice, jerking me from my thoughts.

I stare blankly at her. "No! P-please don't say that…" I hate that she hears my voice breaking.

"But our families hate each other. They'll never stop trying to tear us apart." Her bright blue eyes are suddenly shining with tears as they meet mine. "It will never end…"

"No…" I feel her heart hammering against mine as I pull her tighter to me. "Love is stronger than anger."

She gapes at me. "W-what?"

"Nothing… just something my mother used to say to me." I have to squeeze my eyes shut as her memory threatens to overwhelm me… her sweet smile, her kind dark eyes, her dark red hair… so much like Helen's. That image dissolves and another takes its place… another much younger version of her…

Little Mae turns around, her auburn curls whipping behind her. Her big brown eyes light up as she laughs, opening her arms to me. But when she speaks, it isn't with my mother's familiar heavy Scottish accent but with an aristocratic drawl. Helen appears at my side; my eyes dart from her to the little girl I'm holding and back. Then it dawns on me: this child isn't a young version of my mother, though she looks exactly like her. She has her mother's hair and her father's eyes, my eyes. The girl in my arms isn't my mother; she's my daughter!

I'm vaguely aware of someone tapping my shoulder. My eyes snap open, searching the darkened room. "Cal? What time is it?" Even in the darkness, I can still feel Helen's panic-stricken eyes on me.

I reach past her to the lamp on the nightstand; in the dim light, I can see the numbers on my watch reflected. "Five fifteen."

Helen gasps. "Oh, no! That means…" Her voice trails off weakly; she tries again. "What if my family learns what we've done? What will we do? They'll kill you…"

"Helen…" My words are drowned out as she bursts into sobs. "Helen!" I repeat her name a little louder this time, gently shaking her. Her sobs die as her streaming eyes meet mine. "Listen to me. No one is going to know." She starts to protest, but I stop her. "It'll still be dark for another couple of hours. If you go back to bed now, no one will ever suspect."

She nods, wiping her eyes. "I hope you're right…"

I have to force a smile. "It'll be fine; I promise."

I gently kiss the bruised side of her face, half-expecting her to pull away. She doesn't, just holds my eyes for several moments before finally reluctantly turning away. "I love you, Cal."

The sun is pouring through the window by the time my eyes open. I glance at my watch… 9:30. The Chandlers are already gathered in the parlor as I walk into the room; all eyes turn to me. The old grandfather surveys me up and down, his cold blue eyes blazing behind his round glasses. "Good morning, Mr. Hockley." His voice drips with sarcasm, though I pretend not to notice.

Mrs. Chandler flashes a sickly sweet smile. "Did no one send for you this morning?" I shake my head, and she pretends to be shocked. "I hope you don't mind we've started exchanging gifts without you."

"Not at all, Mrs. Chandler." I wade through the discarded paper, ribbon, and boxes littering the floor to the only vacant seat left, a rickety wooden chair at the corner of the room. No sooner do I sit down that CRACK! Before I know what happened, I'm sitting on the floor surrounded by shards of splintered wood.

Helen gasps, but her brother is roaring with laughter as I get up, brushing myself off. Out of the corner of my eyes, I notice Aaron Chandler exchange a look with his son. "So sorry about that, Cal," Mr. Chandler says. "We've been meaning to get that chair fixed for months!"

My hands clench into fists as I feel a dull anger rising. I have to take several deep breaths and force a nonchalant expression as I stand behind Helen. I pull a small wrapped box from my coat pocket, but Helen's eyes are sad as I hand it to her… I wonder why. She quietly gasps as she lifts the lid to reveal a sapphire and diamond necklace. I wait for her to throw her arms around me or kiss my cheek or at least say 'thank you', but she doesn't. I try to squeeze her hand, but she yanks it back… that's not like her.

Helen is still acting odd at dinner. I give her an encouraging smile, but she still sits stone-faced beside me; she won't even look at me. Is she angry at me? I run through the events of the past day in my mind, yet I can't think of anything I could've done to hurt her.

Mr. Chandler's voice startles me as he summons the butler. "Some wine for our guest!" He cocks an eyebrow slightly as the butler instantly appears behind me. I hear the sound of liquid splashing as the butler misses my glass entirely, pouring wine all over my lap.

"Whoops,' he mumbles, turning away. I sigh, mopping up the spilled wine with my napkin. There's no doubt in my mind he did that on purpose, yet I know this isn't the time or place to make a scene. My eyes dart across the room… the old man's cold gaze, Mrs. Chandler's patronizing smile, Mr. Chandler's barely perceptible nod to the butler, Anthony's sneer, Helen…

Helen suddenly bursts into tears, rushing from the room; I unthinkingly start after her. "Helen!" I'm close enough to grab her arm, but she pulls away, disappearing through the terrace door into the night. I eventually find her slumped behind a tall oak tree; without the cover of leaves, she's easily visible.

"Helen…" She sniffles in reply but still avoids my eyes. I pull her into my embrace; she struggles, but I don't let her go.

"Cal, this is impossible." She finally lifts her tear-filled blue eyes to meet mine as I stare at her incredulously. "A-Anthony knows." She presses a hand to her eyes. "He s-said he'd tell Grandpapa if I didn't…"

She tries to stifle a sob but fails miserably. My lapels bunch in her hands as she clings to me, her tears soaking the front of my shirt as she hides her face in my chest. I pull her tighter to me, my hand entwining in her hair. I stare past that reddish-brown head to the lighted windows of the house. I'll bet that son of a bitch is in there right now laughing with his parents and the old geezer about all the misery he's caused us. It's taking every bit of restraint I have not to barge back into the house and tear him apart.

"Helen?" I finally find my voice. "Do you love me?"

"More than anything." Her wet eyes are suddenly burning with defiance.

"Then we'll find a way to make this work," I try to assure her, though I sound more confident than I feel. I brush as stray tear from her cheek as I gently cup her face. An idea dawns on me. "I know; we'll pretend to fight, let your parents believe we're not in love anymore…" My voice trails off… I think she knows I'm making this up as I go along. "They'll never suspect a thing, so we'll be free to be together in secret."

Helen's eyes cloud. "But how? Where can we go that our families won't follow?"

My heart sinks; she's right… I hadn't thought about that. My mind races. Her parents have made it perfectly clear that I'm not welcome in their house; I expect she would probably go through the same if I brought her to Philadelphia. Maybe I could visit her on weekends while she's at school. No, she has friends who might catch on, and word might get back to her family. Besides, frequent trips to Boston would certainly attract my father's suspicions. Then it hits me: "Aunt Rebecca!"

Helen gapes at me. "My aunt lives just across town. I don't think she'd mind if…" She still looks doubtful. "She doesn't hate you or your family," I add quickly. "She's not like my father, I promise. You met her…"

Helen's eyes shift as if debating the idea; she bites her lip. "But she's your father's sister! Wouldn't she tell him?"

"No." I inwardly chuckle. She's probably the only person in my life who wouldn't, the only one who's ever been able to stand up to my father… and more importantly, the Chandlers don't know about her. I sigh. "Helen, I know this is a longshot, but it's the only plan we have." I tilt her face so that her eyes meet mine. "Will you please give it a try, for me?" Several agonizing moments pass, but Helen doesn't say anything. My heart sinks; she isn't willing to try. "Love is stronger than anger, remember?" Her eyes are suddenly shining with love and adoration as they gaze into mine. She throws her arms around my neck as her lips brush against mine, and I know I've won… at least for now.