A Bravo for Christmas

by Christine Rimmer

  “Like Sunday dinner at your folks’ house and Sylvie coming over to mine?”

  She shifted, straightening her shoulders. “That’s right.”

  “Why draw the boundaries there?”

  Her soft mouth trembled. “I told you. The boundaries have to be somewhere. And that’s where I draw them. That’s where I just won’t go.”

  “Why not?”

  She folded her hands in her lap, lowered her head to stare down at them and sighed. “‘Why’ questions are not constructive.”

  “And that’s no damn answer.”

  “I... Dare, I told you from the first that I didn’t want to get involved. I loved my husband, and I don’t want to get too serious again. I’m not ready for that.” There was more. He could hear it in her voice, see it in the spaces between her words.

  “Do you think you ever will be ready?”

  There was a silence. A long, awful one. Finally, she answered, “I don’t know. I doubt it.”

  “Look at me, Ava.”

  It took her a minute, but she did meet his gaze. Her eyes shone suspiciously bright. “Do you...?” She swallowed convulsively. “Is this it, then? Are we over?”

  Never. “Do you want us to be over?” He was sure he’d have a heart attack waiting for her answer.

  “No.” She said it in a whisper. And suddenly he could breathe again. “No, it’s selfish and I shouldn’t ask it, but I want the rest of my Christmas with you.”

  “And after that?”

  “Ahem. After?”

  “Come on, Ava. You know exactly what I’m asking you.”

  “Can we just take it slowly, you know, see how it goes?”

  “You mean take it slowly after the holidays?”

  When she answered with a gulp and a nod, the knot of tension in his gut eased a little. She was offering him something, at least, taking another baby step in the right direction, granting another hard-won expansion of the walls around her guarded heart.

  “Okay,” he said. “If you won’t bring Sylvie to my place and I’m not allowed to go to Sunday dinner with the parents, at least I want it agreed that we’re moving on from the damn Christmas fling. That means we stay together after the first of the year. And we are exclusive for as long as it lasts.”

  “Exclusive? Who else would I be with?” She looked adorably bewildered. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

  “Good. I feel the same.” And marginally better about everything. At least she’d agreed to stick with him come January. Having more time with her mattered. They could work things out slowly, make their way toward a possible future day by day.

  It astonished him how much he wanted that, wanted a chance for a future with her and Sylvie.

  Sometimes, lately, he didn’t even know himself. He’d never worked so hard for anything in his life as he was working to get Ava to see that she belonged with him. Loving her had changed him, rearranged who he was at the molecular level, made him into a different guy.

  A patient guy, a guy who had what it took to stick it out until she told him her deepest truth and trusted him with her heart.

  * * *

  Or so he’d thought in the early darkness of that Sunday morning.

  But later, alone out at his place, as he tacked up Josie to go riding alone, he just felt low. Disheartened.

  What was her problem? Why did she have to draw artificial lines that couldn’t be crossed? He spent every spare minute at her house. Why shouldn’t she bring Sylvie here? It made no real sense to him.

  Monday night, as soon as Sylvie was in bed, he led Ava to her room and shut and locked the door.

  They took the argument up where they’d left it in the predawn hours of Sunday morning.

  “What’s the difference?” he demanded. “Why draw a line at bringing Sylvie to my place? Here or there, it’s the same.”

  “Well, I feel differently about taking Sylvie to your house, and I’m just not going to do it.”

  That had him pissed off all over again. Maybe loving her hadn’t gotten down to his DNA, after all. The newfound patience he’d been so proud of was already wearing thin. “You’ve got no realistic reason to call my place off-limits to Sylvie, and you know it. Except that you’re afraid to get too close to me for reasons that still don’t really make a whole lot of sense to me.”

  “You said yesterday that we could take it slow.”

  “So you and Sylvie come to my place. How’s that not taking it slow?”

  She put her hands to her head, as though she thought maybe her brain would explode. “Dare, you keep changing everything around on me, and I don’t like it. This was supposed to be a fling, remember?”

  “The fling.” He said it like it was the dirtiest word in the English language. And by then, to him, it kind of was. “It’s not a fling anymore, remember?”

  “All I’m saying is that a fling is what I signed up for, and it’s the nature of a fling that you don’t get too close.” She dropped to the edge of the bed. She looked so small and sad sitting there.

  And now he was mad at himself for making her sad. He sat down beside her. “Ava.”

  She made a lost little sound low in her throat.

  He put his hand over hers. When she didn’t pull away, he laced their fingers together. And he seriously considered just putting it out there, just saying I love you, Ava. He wanted to do that.

  But it didn’t feel right. And he really didn’t know why, just like he didn’t exactly know how to do this, how to be the guy she needed, the sweet, patient guy who knew how to wait.

  “I’m going to wreck this.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “I’m wrecking it, aren’t I, Dare? I know that I am.”

  False reassurances stuck in his throat. And then he just went ahead and gave her the truth as he saw it. “I hope not, Ava. But right now, this minute? I’m afraid that you are.”

  She looked up at him, soft mouth mutinous. “Will you just kiss me, Dare? Can we just forget all this relationship stuff, at least for tonight?”

  So he kissed her. He pulled her down across the bed and slowly undressed her. He meant to take his time with her, to show her the patience and tenderness she needed.

  But she wouldn’t have that. Her kiss was frantic, her fingers rough in his hair. And something wild and angry inside him responded, catching fire from the desperate hunger in her touch. They crashed together, the need in him burning high and bright—all the way to a climax that turned him inside out.

  He left a short time later. They could both use some sleep. Maybe everything would look better in the morning.

  But it didn’t, not really. He went to work, where his receptionist, Cathy, had the Christmas tunes playing and a miniature tree lit up on the corner of her desk. He went into his office and shut the door so he couldn’t hear the music or see the damn tree.

  That night, he waited till after Sylvie’s bedtime and called Ava. They talked for a few minutes, carefully casual, two people who had way too much to say to each other with neither of them knowing quite where to begin.

  “Tomorrow night?” she asked softly at the end. “Come for dinner? Six.”

  Hope rose through the sadness. “I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  Wednesday morning at Bravo Steelworks, he got a call from Janice Hayes. “School’s out for the holidays,” she announced. “So we’re holding a special troop meeting this afternoon at one. It’s almost Christmas, and the girls want a wrapping party. They’ll wrap their craft projects, bring presents from home to wrap, too, if they want. One of the other mothers was supposed to help out, but she can’t make it. How are you at wrapping presents?”

  “I basically suck.”

  “Is that a no, you won’t help me out here? Because I could really use an extra hand, even a hand that do
esn’t know what it’s doing.”

  He hadn’t been at the regular Blueberry meeting Monday. Now the dollhouse project was complete, they didn’t really need him until late February when he’d agreed to supervise the making of birdhouses and feeders to help them all earn their Feathered Friends badge. Already he missed the happy chaos that could only be created by ten chatty, giggling little girls.

  “There’ll be cookies and juice in it for you,” Janice coaxed.

  “See you at one.”

  * * *

  He got to the clubhouse right on time. Janice’s van was there, in the adjacent parking lot. But the clubhouse looked deserted. Knocking the snow off his boots on the thick mat at the door, he peered in one of the windows that fronted the small porch.

  There was no one inside that he could see, and the lights were off. He tried the door. The knob turned, so he pushed it inward. Warm air flowed out. The heater was on.

  “Hello?” He went on into the entry area, which served as a mudroom. Small coats and mufflers and little wool hats hung on the pegs there.

  He was asking himself where the girls had gone when the lights popped on.

  Ten Blueberries jumped out from behind chairs in the main room shouting, “Surprise!” more or less in unison. Rousing applause and a chorus of happy laughter followed.

  “What in the...?”

  Sylvie beamed at him. “It’s a thank-you party, and it’s for you.”

  “Because we love you, Uncle Darius!” added Annabelle, and all ten girls squealed and clapped some more.

  “Take off your coat,” instructed Janice. “Come on and sit down.”

  They had a special chair just for him, the back of it covered in cardboard, painted to look like a purple throne and positioned at the head of the longest worktable. Once he claimed his throne, they quickly rigged him out as usual, in a glittery paper crown, several fat strings of pop beads and a square of blue velvet for a royal robe. He also received a scepter made of PVC pipe topped with a plastic sphere, the whole thing spray-painted gold and studded with glued-on plastic jewels.

  He played his part and waved the scepter. “Bring on the cake and juice boxes!”

  The little girls laughed and clapped their hands some more. “We only have cookies!”

  “With sprinkles?”

  “Yes! Sprinkles!”

  He waved his scepter again. “Then cookies it shall be.”

  So they had juice and cookies, and the girls gave him presents wrapped in colored tissue paper and tied with bright ribbons. He opened them. They were handmade Christmas ornaments—some of painted clay, others of cardboard and a few made from foam balls studded with beads and shiny rickrack. He loved every one and told the girls so, regret pulling at him for that tree in his front hall that he hadn’t even put up on its stand yet.

  But then again, to have ten sweet little girls praising him and calling him their Blueberry king? Worked for him, big-time. If only things were going better with Ava, he would be on top of the world.

  Once he’d opened all his presents and they’d all enjoyed their cookies and juice, they got down to the work of wrapping gifts for the girls’ friends and families. He helped where he could, holding paper in place while small fingers taped it shut, getting more paper and ribbons from the supply closet when they ran low.

  By three, every gift had been wrapped. The girls cleaned up in a flash. Parents wouldn’t be arriving for pickup until four. Michaela Rowe, who was Sylvie’s age, but bigger and taller, a leader among the girls, decided they should build a snowman in the fenced yard beyond the porch. The rest of them loved the idea. Janice gave the go-ahead.

  The girls knew what their snowman needed.

  “We’ve got to have something to use for his arms...”

  “And what about his eyes and mouth...?”

  “And don’t forget his nose...”

  “And he’s going to need a hat and a wool scarf and mittens so he won’t be cold...”

  Janice raised a hand for silence. “I’ll see what I can find. Bundle up. Darius, will you go out with them and get them started?”

  “I’m on it.”

  They all piled on their coats, hats and mufflers, and out they went.

  Right away, it was clear that the girls were more interested in snowball fights and playing tag than in gathering snow to make a snowman.

  Dare took off his gloves and whistled through his fingers to get their wandering attention. “We need three big snowballs.” He put his gloves back on and scooped up a handful of snow. “Starting with the base, which is the biggest ball, we pack snow on it to make it bigger and bigger.” He knelt to roll the ball and pile on more snow.

  The girls went to work with him, scooping up handfuls of snow and patting them onto the growing ball. It went along pretty well for several minutes.

  But hey, Christmas was coming and school was out. For over an hour, they’d worked hard at wrapping gifts. They wanted to play. He tried to keep the snowman project on track, but with minimal success.

  Every time he called one of them back to work, another peeled off and ran giggling in a circle or used the snow she’d gathered to start yet another snowball fight. They were like puppies, rolling in the snow, jumping one another, falling all over each other. And the noise. Ten little girls could be downright deafening, laughing and squealing, screaming in surprise when they got snow down their jackets.

  Janice came out of the clubhouse, arms full of snowman accessories, just as Sylvie jumped up and ran along the fence with Michaela Rowe chasing her. “All right, you two!” she called as the girls kept running, both of them laughing wildly. “Michaela, Sylvie! Stop running!”

  Sylvie obeyed, freezing in midstep. But Michaela barreled on, plowing into Sylvie. Sylvie went down with a startled cry. Dare shot to his feet as her chin connected with a decorative rock poking out of the snow. He heard her teeth clack together.

  He was running toward her when he saw the blood—vivid red against all that white.

  And then Sylvie started screaming.

  * * *

  Ava had a closing that afternoon at Cascade Title Company a few blocks from her office. Halfway through it, her cell vibrated. She checked the display: Darius.

  She let it go for now and concentrated on the job at hand. The phone buzzed again. He must have left a voice mail.

  A half an hour later, she shook hands with her clients and showed them out the door. As they headed for their Escalade, she pulled up her voice mail, feeling more than a little apprehensive about Dare’s call.

  Would he bail on her tonight?

  And if he did, could she really blame him? He wanted more from her than she knew how to give. She just wanted him, so much it made a constant ache under her breastbone. Hearts, really, were ridiculous things. And hers wanted to take her somewhere she’d vowed never to go again.

  Where did that leave them? Nowhere very good.

  She punched in her voice mail code.

  “You have one new message...”

  And then came Dare’s deep, calm voice. “Hi, Ava. First off, everything’s okay.” Okay? What would be not okay? What was he even talking about? All of a sudden, her mouth tasted of dirty pennies, and she thought she might throw up. “Sylvie’s had a little accident at her Blueberry meeting.”

  “Oh, God. An accident...” She realized she’d said it out loud when a woman coming out of the building behind her glanced her way in alarm. Waving the woman off, she concentrated on Dare’s message.

  “It’s a cut, nothing too serious. But she’s upset and she’ll need stitches.” Stitches? Ava swayed on her feet and stuck out a hand to steady herself against the wall of the building. “We’re at Justice Creek General Emergency. And I mean it. Don’t freak. She’s shook up, but she’s okay.”

  * * *<
br />
  Ava broke every speed limit getting to the hospital. She’d called Dare back, but he must have switched off his phone. They made you do that, didn’t they, in hospital exam rooms?

  She got lucky and found a parking space near the entrance. Jumping from her car, she raced for the wide glass doors.

  Inside, Sylvie sat with Darius in the main waiting area. Ava stopped stock-still to stare at them.

  He had his big arm around Sylvie’s narrow shoulders, and she stared up at him adoringly, her little chin bandaged halfway up each cheek and down her throat, a white beard of gauze and tape. Other than the bandage, though, she looked fine.

  Until she saw Ava.

  Then she burst into tears. “Mommy!” She bounced to her feet and came running.

  Ava hurried to meet her, scooping her up in her aching arms and holding on tight.

  Dare rose but hung back, giving Ava and Sylvie their moment together. Ava nodded and made soft, encouraging noises, stroking Sylvie’s brown hair as Sylvie babbled a mile a minute, about the snowman they were building, about how Michaela started chasing her and then ran into her, knocking her down.

  “It was a big rock, Mommy. And my chin fell right on it. The doctor said I was a lucky girl and I’m going to be okay, but I needed eight stitches. Darius says I’m very brave.” She caught her mother’s face between her little hands. “Mommy, they gave me medicine, and it’s all numb now. But before the shot to make the hurting stop, it really hurt a lot.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. I know it did. And you are brave. The bravest girl I know...”

  Sylvie let out a long sigh and rested her head on Ava’s shoulder. Ava’s gaze found him then. She mouthed Thank you as she rocked her little girl from side to side.

  * * *

  After Ava filled out some paperwork and took care of the co-pay, Dare followed Ava and Sylvie to their house.

  Sylvie wanted pizza. Ava said she would allow it this one time, even though it was the second pizza night this week. “Under the circumstances, how could I say no?”

  Sylvie laughed. “You can’t! Because I am very brave and with stitches—and I want pizza!”