Keeping Christmas

by Rebecca Blevins

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tuesday, December 22nd

  As Christmas grew closer, Wes found himself thinking about Paige. Other than pulling over a few more speed demons, the last few days had been pretty quiet.

  A large snowstorm passed through early Tuesday morning, and Wes hitched up the town's plow to his truck. It seemed that everything reminded him of the beautiful blonde who was excited about Christmas to the point of annoyance. Yet he found himself smiling at the remembrance of her enthusiasm. It couldn't hurt to think about her now, since he'd never see her again.

  He felt a twinge of regret that he'd had to keep himself so distant from her, but something about Paige had drawn him like she was a warm flame and he'd been caught in a storm without his coat. He felt bad about how he'd acted when she left—he'd let his old hurts bubble over, and he'd pushed Paige away a little too hard. She'd stirred up feelings in him that he hadn't felt in so long, and he wasn't ready for that.

  Was he?

  The cold gray sky held the promise of more snow, and Wes took another pass on the main road. The frozen pond glittered off to his right, and he rolled down his window and took a whiff of snow-laced air. All was quiet and calm.

  This was what Wes lived for. Peace inside and out. The idea of sharing it with someone tempted him more than he’d let on to himself, but how could he be sure he wouldn't end up broken again? His heart had mended, and with the slight testing it had undergone over the weekend in the presence of a charming woman, he'd found that it had held up rather nicely.

  He rolled up his window, then headed home, looking forward to his kitchen and his pot of coffee, just where he'd left it. No one to disturb anything—except for Newton. No one to make his home brighter except for Newton, either.

  Try as he might, the memory of a sweet laugh and a kind hand on his arm kept returning to his thoughts.

  Wednesday, December 23rd

  Paige thoroughly enjoyed visiting her family. The play had been fantastic, and she'd spent much of Tuesday with her grandparents, answering all Farfar's questions about the catering business and her future plans. She was touched at how he encouraged her to follow her dreams.

  Wednesday morning, Sofie came with the twins again, and they made all kinds of pretty julekurver which Paige would fill with goodies before they'd hang them on the tree that night. Little Christmas Eve was one of her favorite times—the lights and tree made it magical.

  Though she'd be lying if she didn’t admit she was anxiously waiting for her next date with Michael. And try as Mamma and Sofie might, Paige wasn't giving them anything. They'd finally given up grilling her, and all of them relaxed as the boys ran around the boxes of Christmas ornaments Paige had brought up from the basement, waiting for Pappa and Ben to bring the tree home later on.

  "So, what are your plans for the new year?" her mother asked. "Are you finally going to leave Gretchen and venture out on your own?"

  Paige sighed. She really didn't want to have this conversation. "I don't know, Mamma. But I'll let you know the instant I do. There are a lot of considerations to make."

  Her mother wisely said nothing, and Sofie kept rocking in the old chair that had been in the family as long as Paige could remember.

  After dinner, they decorated the tree. As Paige hung the heart baskets, she thought of the little boy she'd met in Higgins—Tristan—and wished she could give him one. As she left the family to finish singing their Christmas songs around the tree so she could get ready for her date, she took one of the heart baskets and brought it to her room. Maybe she could stop by the Stay Inn on her way home. Rachel might know how to get the basket to Tristan, and Paige wouldn’t mind seeing Rachel again.

  Michael had said to dress comfortably, but Paige wanted to make a good impression on him, so she wore the simple but elegant green dress she'd brought. The fabric swished around her knees and was a good length for dancing in case there was any of that, but substantial enough for winter. The fabric was a thick, well-made knit with a bit of stretch, so it fitted nicely to her figure without being tight. She added a multicolored scarf over the scoop neck, then added dangly earrings. Knee-high leather boots finished her outfit. She could walk in them for a long time if she needed to.

  She pulled her hair back in a simple updo and spritzed some hairspray, fanning it dry, and then the doorbell rang. She put on some pink lipstick, stuck the tube in her bag, and went downstairs.

  Her father stood there with Michael, waiting. Michael’s gaze traveled from her head to her feet and back again. He stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed it. "You are absolutely gorgeous, Paige."

  "Yes, she is," her father said. "And don't you forget it, young man."

  Paige grabbed her coat. "Pappa, we're not teenagers anymore. You can put away the shotgun." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. His eyes were tired, but they twinkled like they always had. "Get some rest. We won't be back until late."

  He gave her a squeeze. "Well, not too late. Don’t want you tired out before Christmas Eve.”

  "All right, let's go." Paige tugged on her coat, and she and Michael headed to his car. He'd left it running.

  Inside the car, soft music played, the kind that reminded Paige of old Christmases gone by. Paige clicked her seatbelt. "I know how much you love this time of year," Michael said. "I hope this music works." He took her hand and rubbed slow circles on the back of it with his thumb.

  A bundle of nerves knotted in Paige’s stomach and wriggled around. "Yes, it's perfect."

  He let go of her hand and put the car in gear. When they got to where the road split to go into town, they went the opposite direction. There were only more farmhouses that way. "Where are we going?"

  "It's a surprise." Michael seemed excited about it, so Paige went along with him, even though she was slightly nervous. Where was he taking her?

  Finally, they pulled into a long driveway, but didn't follow it all the way up to the main house. Instead, Michael pulled off onto a small side drive that led to a snow-covered gravel parking area and a green building. It was slightly familiar—Paige was certain she'd been here for a party once in eleventh grade. "Is this the Evansons' house?" she asked when he opened her door.

  "You guessed it! They used to let Brandon have his parties here to keep the main house quiet. I thought you might like to spend a little time away from all the craziness of family." He paused, then backpedaled. "Not that your family isn't great—because they are. All I meant was . . ."

  He was even cuter when he dropped his smooth-guy routine. She touched his arm. "Hey, no, it's fine. I love them. And I like spending time with them, craziness and all. But this will be fun too."

  They held hands as they walked to the building. It was one of those nice pre-manufactured outbuildings her father used to talk about wanting, the ones that almost looked like huge playhouses. Now she remembered—she'd been here for Brandon Evanson's seventeenth birthday party. Molly Jensen had liked him at the time, so she'd hauled Paige along. There were too many kids to fit in the building, so the party had spilled over outside. Paige had spent much of the time sitting on a stump by a fire, tossing in blades of grass.

  When they reached the door, Michael unlocked it, then led her inside. A space heater went full blast, so it was warm, and the couch was covered with blankets. A TV sat across from the couch. Looked like a simple man cave. From what she remembered of Mrs. Evanson, she wouldn't be at all surprised if her husband needed a break now and then.

  "What do you think?" Michael gestured to a small table on the side, where two mugs sat along with a box of dessert. "Brandon's back for the holidays, and we got to talking about this old place, and he told me I could use it if I wanted to. For old times' sake."

  "Old memories?" Paige asked.

  "You could say that." He grinned, rather bashfully. His hair flopped a little onto his forehead, and Paige was tempted to push it back. "We used to bring dates here, and sometimes a couple other guys would too. We'd watch movies, eat popcorn.”


  Back then, she'd heard rumors of a place where the popular guys took the girls, but that was all she’d known about it. She felt a little unsettled that she was there now, but high school was ancient history. She’d let it go. "Well, that's interesting—and convenient. Seems cozy."

  He laughed. "Sorry. We don't need to go down my memory lane. Come have some apfelkuchen and cider with me.”

  They took off their coats, then brought their cake and cider to the couch and watched a newly released romantic comedy. Michael had made an excellent choice with the dessert, which was filled liberally with apples and spice. When they were done eating, he pulled a blanket over them, and Paige leaned her head on his shoulder. They talked and flirted more than they watched the show.

  After a short tickle fight, Michael reached behind Paige and took out her hair clip. As her hair tumbled around her shoulders, his eyes went from playful to something a little deeper, something that sent warm tingles and nerves shooting through her.

  Michael scooted closer and unwound the scarf from her neck, then pushed her hair back, brushing his fingers against her sensitive skin. “You know,” he said casually, bringing a lock of her hair back over her shoulder and winding it around his finger, “I bet we can think of something more fun to do than watching this movie.”

  Paige froze. She knew what he meant—no question about that. But she wasn’t about to encourage Michael in any way—no matter how hot he was—if she didn’t know for sure how he felt about her.

  She liked Michael—a lot. But she wasn't ready to dive into a physical relationship so fast. And something about being in such an intimate setting out in the middle of nowhere—well, except for the Evansons, who were probably in their house getting ready to retire for the night—felt a little too private. Slightly dangerous, even. Every nerve she had was on high alert.

  Michael leaned in and kissed the side of her neck just above her collarbone. Panic rushed through her chest as she forced herself to stay calm. She pulled away and sat back.

  Funny how she’d felt completely safe at Wes’s house in the middle of nowhere, and she’d barely met the guy.

  Even funnier that Wes would pop into her head when Michael made a move on her.

  "What's wrong?" Michael asked.

  Paige struggled for words. "Michael, I like you. I really, really do. I'm just not ready for anything this intense quite yet. I think we should give it some more time."

  He stared at her, incredulous. "Paige—" He cut off a choked laugh. "Paige, I didn't think we were being serious. You're a phenomenal woman. I want to get to know you better, and I can’t believe I didn't see how amazing you were in high school." He took her hands and stared at her earnestly with a gaze that only moments ago would’ve been her undoing. "If I gave you the wrong impression, I'm sorry. Did I say anything that led you to believe I wanted anything more than having fun while we're both here?"

  Paige couldn't believe her ears. Of course he'd given her the wrong impression! He'd been so friendly, so flirtatious and earnest. She racked her brain, going over all the conversations they'd shared. They'd discussed personal things, talked about their individual hopes and dreams. But had Michael ever implied that he wanted a relationship with her? He'd wanted to see her, but—oh, no. He'd never come right out and actually said anything about wanting more.

  She pulled her hands out of Michael's grip, put her scarf back on, and went to get her coat. Michael stood. "What's wrong? What are you doing?"

  Paige wanted nothing than to run out the door, run far away, and never speak to him again. She’d been such an idiot. After zipping up her coat, she said, "I'm sorry. I think I've given you the wrong impression."

  Michael came over to her and took her hands again. "Paige, I am really, really sorry our communication paths got crossed. If you want to go home, just say the word, and we'll go."

  Paige didn't even want to know how red her face must be. "I think it would be best."

  On the way back, the awkwardness was nearly unbearable. At every stop sign, Paige contemplated hurling herself into a snowbank, but while she could walk fine in her cute boots, the slushy roadside called for sturdier footwear. The Christmas CD played as they drove, but the romantic music only made things more uncomfortable. Finally, Michael turned to a radio station, where a little girl singing about two front teeth was a welcome distraction.

  Michael pulled up in front of her parents' house, and Paige opened the door. "Wait," Michael begged. "I still had a good time, and I'm sorry about the misunderstanding. It was great to see you."

  Under no circumstances did she want to draw out their goodbye. "Thanks for the cake. And the company. I'd better get inside before my mother starts peeking out the window."

  "Okay. Well, I'll call you sometime." His smile still dazzled her, but less than it had earlier.

  She went into the house and headed for the stairs opposite the kitchen, where her mother was putting dishes away. "You're home rather early! With leaving at eight, I didn't expect you back until at least midnight. It's what—not even nine thirty?"

  Paige didn't want to talk about her date at all. "It didn't go well. We found out we’re not as compatible as we thought."

  Mamma put a glass away, then turned and searched Paige’s face. "Are you all right?"

  "I’m fine. I just need to go to sleep." Her mother wisely dropped the subject, and Paige went upstairs. She didn't bother taking off her makeup—only pulled off her boots, put on an old nightshirt she'd had for years, and crawled into bed.

  How had he been so calm and unruffled when she'd shown how naïve she was? Part of her was mad at him for treating her so casually, but hook-up culture surrounded her—why had she expected anything different? She should have known, especially after seeing his Instagram photos filled with beautiful girls, but she’d really thought she meant more to him than that. He’d made her feel special, and she’d thought that meant she was special. Well, that was her mistake.

  Maybe Michael never noticed how amazing she was in high school because she kept her lips to herself. Thinking back on it, she’d only ever seen him with the girls who didn’t mind make-out sessions behind the bleachers.

  She rolled over and punched her pillow a few times. Jerk.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Paige had hoped she'd feel better by the next day, but she couldn't stop her brain from tormenting her with the embarrassment of having misunderstood Michael. Maybe she was the one who needed to change. After all, life was going on without her. Didn't she deserve to have fun? Would having a casual relationship be so bad? With her work schedule taking up weekends, men weren’t exactly banging down her door. Her last date had been three months ago, and Trevor been a substitute delivery guy for their vendor. Cute, but brainless. She liked a guy with brains.

  She tried throwing herself into the Christmas Eve festivities, and they helped a little. Christmas Eve was a bigger celebration to Norwegians than Christmas Day, so Paige spent all day cooking and baking, even though she'd brought a few traditional sweets with her. Her mother helped some, but Paige didn't mind cooking alone—the stirring and tasting and kneading was therapeutic.

  As she worked, she distracted herself from what had happened with Michael by reliving her adventure in Higgins. She caught herself smiling on more than one occasion. Helping with a charitable event had felt so good. She understood why Wes enjoyed it so much.

  Paige braided dough and set it to rise on a cookie sheet. Maybe it was time to start thinking about starting her own business. If she planned carefully, she might be able to start late next fall. Something small, of course. She could do that and work at the same time. Build her own catering services, as her type of clientele wouldn’t compete with Rosemonde’s, or maybe open a small café. There was so much to consider.

  She checked the ribs and slid potatoes into the oven, then started the risgrøt. As the rice pudding cooked, Paige molded the marzipan pig that would be the prize for whoever found the blanched almond in their dessert
dish. As she thought about her potential plans, a spark of excitement flamed in her chest. She hadn't felt this way for a long time. With new hope in her heart, Paige prepared the cabbage, then went to the living room to sing carols while her father played the guitar as they waited for the aunts, uncles, and cousins to arrive.

  Christmas was on Friday, and by Friday night, Paige was pacing her bedroom floor, trying to talk herself out of heading back to Kansas City. She was frustrated that she couldn't put a finger on why she wanted to leave.

  Did it have something to do with Michael? She wasn't entirely sure. All she knew was that she was itching to get back to her normal routine, and to put the not-so-good things behind her.

  She had planned to stay through Sunday and get home in time to go to work on Monday, but as luck—or not—would have it, Gretchen texted her around eight.

  Hey, Paige! Hope you're having a nice visit. I booked an extra event tomorrow night. Last minute and it pays double, so if for some reason you come back early, I can use you.

  How not subtle of her, Paige thought. But this could be the out she needed. Her mother had been tiptoeing around the issue of Michael the last few days, and Paige didn’t want to talk about him.

  She picked up her phone to check the weather, then went to Facebook. Right there in her newsfeed was a big picture of Lottie Smith kissing Michael's cheek under some mistletoe, obviously on a date.

  Last night.

  She clicked on his profile, and saw a few other pictures he’d been tagged in—and not only from that night. It seemed that Party Boy had been on at least one more date since he’d been in town. Michael certainly kept busy on his vacations.

  Up until that point, Paige had been seriously considering changing her no-fun-unless-we’re-serious policy. Now, however, she couldn’t have been happier she’d stuck to it. Apparently, he cared so little about her as a person and a friend that she’d only have been another Christmas conquest.