Free A Holiday to Remember by Lynnette Kent

wool coat pockets she’d tucked them into. But she was tired of standing and watching. As for joining in…not an option.
    Though she willed the time to pass more quickly, the sun clung stubbornly to the tops of the trees and the glare reflecting off the snow seared her eyes. She squeezed her lids together, letting darkness soothe the aching tissues.
    Even with her eyes closed, she saw snow. In her mind’s eye, the night sky hung over her and the wind lashed her face when branches didn’t. Black tree trunks barred her way on every side. She stumbled….
    Opening her eyes, Jayne shook her head. What was that? A scene from a movie? Or another winter, when she’d taken a walk at night in the snow…something she couldn’t remember ever having done?
    No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find the smallest scrap of a memory like the vision she’d just witnessed. As often happened when she tried to recall the past, she came up against a solid blank wall. No faces, no places, no events reached her from the other side. She couldn’t climb over the wall, dig under or go around.
    Tears blurred her vision, and she reluctantly dragged her hands out of her pockets so she could wipe her eyes. As her sight cleared, she saw a lone figure climbing the slope in her direction.
    “I lost,” Chris announced as he joined her on the rim. “Beaten by a bunch of girls. Good thing no one’s here as a witness.”
    “Ahem. No one?”
    Still grinning, he raised his eyebrows. “Would you rat out an old friend?”
    “Two days doesn’t make us old friends.”
    “Oh, yeah. I forgot—we didn’t know each other before.” He clicked his tongue. The grin had vanished. “It’s hard to ignore these pictures in my mind, though. I see you naked, asleep on a blanket in the grass just after we’ve made love. Pretty unforgettable.”
    Fear exploded in Jayne’s stomach and roiled into her chest. She closed her fingers into fists. “I don’t doubt you had that experience. I’m sure you remember someone. I,” she said carefully, holding his gaze, “am not she.”
    “Another denial. With perfect grammar, no less.” Chris noticed the sudden flush on the headmistress’s cheeks, the speedup of her puffs of breath in the frigid air. “Then what are you so afraid of?”
    Instead of answering, she stomped to the edge of the ridge. The whistle she gave was a repeat of this morning’s—loud, long and piercing, bringing the whole world, including the girls, to a complete stop.
    “Time to go,” she shouted, her hands cupped around her mouth. Then she raised her arms and motioned for them to come.
    After the long afternoon spent playing in the cold, the lack of protest from the girls wasn’t a surprise. They had to be tired. Chris knew he was exhausted and freezing. The sun dropped suddenly behind the trees, and the temperature plunged with it.
    But the level of whining on the hike back to the school shocked and irritated him.
    “My toes hurt.” That was Haley’s complaint. During the fight this afternoon he’d managed to learn all their names.
    Beth grumbled, “I’m hungry.” Since Jayne had, with foresight, insisted on bringing water and plenty of trail mix for snacks, Chris couldn’t understand how anyone could be hungry.
    Even sunny Selena voiced a complaint. “These boots are too small.”
    “Walk slower. I can’t keep up.” As the smallest, Taryn always seemed to be lagging behind.
    “This is taking forever.” Monique had long legs and the long stride to match. “Can’t we go faster?”
    Chris set his jaw, keeping his teeth clenched against the urge to answer. Feeling Jayne’s glance, he looked over and caught her quizzical look.
    “That’s how most kids behave at the end of the day. Don’t hold it against them.”
    Yolanda piped up from behind him. “How much longer do we have to walk?”
    Ever helpful Sarah added, “Are you sure we’re not lost?” A chorus of gasps greeted the suggestion.
    Jayne stopped and