A gray-hair man with broad shoulders and a quick smile joins Evan on screen, only pausing once to hug Evan before he takes his seat. “Hi Lyra, thanks for having me on the show.”
“It’s our pleasure.” She adjusts her notes on her lap before diving back into the questions she’s prepared. “Santiago, can you tell us about Evan when you first met him?”
“He was a spitfire, that’s for sure, but that’s true for a lot of the kids off the street. They’ve been wronged by a world that was supposed to protect them, and they’ve learned the only option is to protect themselves. They build walls so high it’s hard to connect, but when they give you their heart, it’s all the loyalty you could ever want.”
“Did he always show an aptitude for cooking?”
Santiago and Evan exchange looks before laughing. “An aptitude, yes, but talent? That came with time.”
“Really?” Lyra leans forward as if it’s all their secret. “Any stories?”
Evan ducks his head behind his hand. “When I was fifteen I almost burned down the whole kitchen.”
“We were working on flambé, and Evan got a little frisky with the torch.”
“Oh, that must have been quite the day.”
A knock at the back door catches my attention. Probably the state troopers checking in on folks. They’ll move on if I don’t answer.
“Evan,” Lyra uncrosses her legs to cross them the opposite direction, “we all came to know you this season through a collection of specials shot at the Willow Brook Inn. While you were there, you seemed to strike up a kinship with the innkeeper, Brooke Cratchett. Would you like to talk about that?”
“Not really.” Evan clears his throat and shifts again. “But I will. What do you want to know?”
The too familiar steel rises up in his eyes, but for the first time I swear he fights it. Lyra tucks her long honey blonde hair behind her ear and smiles. “A lot of people have called that last interaction staged, and then they assume the whole relationship was a publicity stunt.”
Evan fidgets with a card from the side table next to him. He loses his grip. It falls to the ground. The knock at my back door gets louder. I can’t leave now. Not when he’s about to spill the secrets I’ve been waiting for.
“What’s your question, Lyra?”
His direct nature throws her off for a second. She squirms in her seat as if she’s under the microscope, not him. “Was it real, or not?”
“We’d all like to know!” I shout at the TV. Unable to handle it any longer, I move closer to the TV until I kneel at the base, staring at the close-up of Evan’s conflicted face.
“It was complicated.” His palm rubs over his mouth. I recognize the look he gets when he’s fighting through his urge to repress the truth. “At first, I wasn’t interested. Neither was she, for that matter. I wanted to save my career, and she needed to save her inn. But Brooke is hard to ignore, despite my best efforts, and I lost to her charms.”
“You’re saying you fell in love with her?” Lyra almost drops her notepad. This isn’t what she was expecting. “Why did you break up?”
“We didn’t want to.” He stretches his jaw out and shrugs. “It was a publicity stunt put on by my previous agent. I had offers on the table that needed a certain persona.”
“The Bad Boy Baking Company, correct?”
The knock moves to a side door. Good heavens, those troopers are persistent.
“I’m fine! Go check on Old Lady Brinkles!” I yell without looking away from the screen.
“More like bad choice baking company,” Santiago teases. “Thankfully, Evan has wised up and he’s headed in a new direction.”
“What direction is that?” Lyra zones in on him again. “What character can we expect from you this time?”
“I’m not really supposed to talk about it until contracts are final, but there’s no character, just me and the food.” His nerves buzz through his hands until he jams them under his legs. He hates being on camera. I want to be there next to him, calming him like I always have. “I’m excited about it. It’ll be like Granny McPherson, but with me at the helm and my whole company working with me to develop the recipes.”
“Just a couple more questions, Evan, if you don’t mind.” Lyra waits for him to give his permission with a quick nod. “Most of us fell in love with your relationship with Brooke. You said it was genuine, the feelings were authentic, but what about now? I mean, that slap looked real to me. Have you talked with Brooke since then?”
The knocking won’t stop. My patience is gone.
“Just come in if you’re that worried! The door is open!”
I turn my attention back to the TV, coming in halfway through Evan’s answer.
“Yeah, it hurt. She didn’t hold back.” He rubs his cheek as if it still stings. “We haven’t talked since then. I think I’ve been afraid to face her.”
“You might get slapped again.”
“Or worse.” Evan laughs, but it cuts off quickly.
“I won’t slap you,” I whisper to the TV. “I promise.”
“Evan, it seems like you’re looking forward to the future. Can you tell us, will Brooke be a part of that future?”
“I’d have to talk to her first.” Evan glances around the studio as if looking for an exit. “Hard to say what my personal life holds at this point.”
The trooper’s boots echo against the dining room floor. I should call him back here, but I don’t want to miss a single second of this. Serves me right for not having TiVo.
“One last question, Evan, and I know I asked before, but you didn’t actually answer me.” Lyra draws in a deep breath and holds it for dramatic effect. “Did you love Brooke?”
Evan smiles, but it’s nervous, like being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and he needs an explanation. With nothing left, he settles on the truth. “I still do.”
My hands clamp over my mouth, gasping so fast my throats dries up, and I start coughing. My eyes cloud with tears, from his confession or my inability to breathe, I’m not sure which. I place my hand over his face on the screen, wishing I was there with him.
A gentle rap catches the trim around the open doorway.
That dang trooper.
I’ll get rid of him, then catch the first plane to…
I don’t know where Evan is.
“Where are you?” I shout at the screen. “You never said where you’re living now!”
“Brooke.”
Not a state trooper.
I freeze in place.
“I’m hallucinating.”
I pinch my arm.
It hurts.
“I don’t think you pinch yourself to check for that,” imaginary Evan says from the doorway.
“Then how do I know you’re real?” I can’t turn around. I’ll turn around, and he’ll be gone.
“I’m real.”
“Well, yes, a figment of my imagination would say that. Figments rarely admit that they’re figments. That would defeat the whole purpose.”
“Figments don’t have a purpose, Brooke.” Imaginary Evan laughs to himself. “Look at me, and you’ll see it.”
“But if I look at you, you’ll disappear. I can’t handle that right now.”
He laughs again, the kind of laughter that says I’m hopeless. Footfalls move toward me. Hallucinations don’t make sounds, do they? His hand reaches down to me. I set my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. I finally look up into his perfect face.
“I just saw you on TV.” I point at the screen. “You’re still on TV.”
He gives a quick half-smile. “We recorded that a few days ago. Did you like it?”
“I loved it. I can’t believe you did it.” I touch his face as if to make sure he won’t evaporate. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for my future.”
I wish he’d just kiss me. It’s been too long since he’s kissed me.
“Have you found it?”
“I sure hope so.” He pushes
my hair from my eyes. “I love you, Brooke. I should have said it before. I should have done a lot differently, but I’m saying it now. I love you. I want to be with you.”
“I love you too, Evan.” I rise up to press my lips to his. He pulls me close, and we sink into something better than we ever had.
The interview continues in the background as we get lost in each other’s love. Lyra asks, “Evan, you’ve come out of the shadows for the first time, why now? Is this another publicity stunt?”
Evan’s lips pull at mine, but I give most of my attention to his answer coming from the speakers. “I wasn’t doing any good in the shadows. People believed in me, I pulled myself up from nothing, and then I hid. I never thought my story would be worth much, because I never thought I was worth much. But Santi and Brooke, they helped me see that sharing my story, sharing my heart with people, it’ll give others a chance to see that they can do it as well. It’s not impossible. It’s hard work, determination, and support from people who care about you. And maybe a couple miracles along the way.” There’s a pause before he says, “Merry Christmas, everyone.”
I smile against his lips. “Merry Christmas, Evan. Welcome home.”
Epilogue
Evan
I spent all of Christmas with Brooke. Then I flew out to California to meet with my new agent and the publishing house that wants my books. I made it back in time to kiss at her at midnight on New Year’s Eve though. I’ve got my own place in town these days, but I still cook breakfast at the inn three times a week. It’s thriving, and not because of me, but because Brooke has found her stride.
My new book, Evan’s Kitchen, comes out in a month. I spend most of my time flying around for appearances, and a network wants to do a reality show where I help teens learn to cook. Their first offer was a show about Brooke and me, but I plan to keep that side of my life private for her sake. Santi thinks I should record Valentine’s Day, but that’s only because he saw the ring. Now he’s saying we should sell rights to the wedding, but I told him she has to say yes first.
I stare at the glistening diamond in the box. It’s probably too big. It’s probably too soon. But I’m done waiting on the rest of my life. I want to spend all of it with her. The best gift, the greatest wish, Brooke is my Christmas miracle.
It’s funny to look back on a life, and at first glance, it’s all random. Looking back on mine, it’s a road. A twisted, winding road, with moments that felt like dead ends, but never were. It’d be easy to think I should’ve put my face on the cover from day one, but hiring Hattie brought me to Brooke. Losing Brooke, brought me back to Santiago. Finding Santiago helped me find myself. Maybe it’s not a winding path, but more like wandering in the desert, following a star in the distance. Brooke was that star, even before I knew she existed.
Still, after everything, who knew I’d owe so much to spending a Christmas season as Granny McPherson.
Bless her pill-popping granny heart.
The End
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Christmas with Granny McPherson
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(Short story in an anthology)
Christmas With Granny McPherson Page 19