Read Online Winter's Daughter by Kathleen Creighton - Free Book Online

Under the awful green sweater her shoulders lifted, then settled. "You said things this morning, but talking’s so easy. I wanted to find out what your real feelings were—deep down, gut–level feelings. People react instinctively to those who are different from themselves. I wanted to see how you responded to me as a bag lady. I didn’t know—"
    "A test of my character?" Dillon said dryly. He touched her shoulder and added softly, "I responded to you yesterday, or had you forgotten? I gave you a flower."
    "Yes, but I didn’t know that was
you
."
    Her voice was drowned and defenseless. Amazing, the effect it had on him. He found that although he was staring at the pompon on her cap and at the strings of gray hair sneaking into the collar of her drab dress, he was seeing her instead as she’d looked in his office that morning: A slender young woman with summer sunshine in her hair and skin, and winter fires in her eyes.
    "Instead, I found out—" Her voice trembled and died.
    "I hurt you," Dillon said, running his fingers back and forth across the top of her shoulder. "I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry."
    "No," she denied, shaking her head. "I suppose it’s ironic, really. Here I was trying to test your character, and I failed my own test. I thought I was so tolerant, so understanding, so aware. And I reacted to you with the same blind fear and prejudice—" She pressed the heels of her hands angrily against her eyes. "Oh,
damn
."
    It was strange, Dillon thought. Seeing her so hurt and whipped only made him remember more vividly the way she’d sailed into his office that morning, vibrant and bursting with self–confidence. He’d wanted to give her a little dose of reality, yes, but he hadn’t meant to destroy those things he’d admired so much in her. He suddenly realized he wanted that confidence and enthusiasm back. More than wanting, he
needed
it. He felt an infusion of energy and excitement inside himself. Like a light coming on in his head, he knew he needed this woman’s passion, courage, and dedication working with him and for him on this homeless problem.
    He put both hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. Her body felt tense, rigid, and incredibly vulnerable. "Are you this hard on everybody, or just yourself?"
    She shuddered and turned to him, ignoring the tears she’d been trying so hard to hide. "Dillon, there’s no getting around the fact that I reacted with fear, loathing, hostility, prejudice—all the emotions I’ve accused others of. I’ve been—
oh!"
    Her eyes widened, and her mouth formed a blurred O of dismay. She squeaked, "Oh, God—" and reached impulsively to touch his temple. The glove on her hand made her pause, before she gave it a look of revulsion and snatched it off. Dillon felt her fingers like the soft cool kiss of silk on his forehead. "I hurt you."
    "Yeah, you were trying to, as I recall," he said, smiling. "Look, stop beating yourself to death with your own liberalism. Personally I think you acted with common sense and good judgment—not to mention ingenuity." He brushed away a moist streak on her cheek with the backs of his fingers, then drew his thumb across the bridge of her nose to intercept a fresh tear on the other side. "I’d have been a lot more worried about you if you hadn’t—
oh, my God
!"
    For a heartbeat or two all he could do was stare in horror at the piece of her face that had come off in his fingers.
    Tannis clapped a hand to her nose. She looked from his face to the scrap of flesh–colored latex dangling from his fingers, and then her composure simply erupted. With laughter bubbling up in her and flowing out of her like a kettle boiling over, she collapsed, howling, onto Dillon’s chest.
    Though her laughter was effervescent and joyous and he loved the sound of it, Dillon was too preoccupied to join in. For the time being, all he could do was stand there, gazing helplessly down at the purple pompon quivering just under his nose. The