by LoRee Peery
At the sudden urge to kiss that bluish spot, he leaned forward. Their touch had sizzled earlier when they each reached for the handle of her rolling bag. She’d sucked in her breath, which he took to mean she’d felt the zing as he had. He gave her credit for recovering in the blink of an eye.
The memory of her reaction pushed him to close the distance between them now until they were a breath apart.
Feet stomping on the back stoop announced Burt’s return.
Izzy blinked twice and retreated up a step.
“Baby, it’s cold out there.”
“So this is Christmas.” Brock sang back to Burt, keeping his gaze locked on Izzy. He pivoted. “Glad you didn’t come in singing ‘let it snow’. ’Tis the season, bro. I was beginning to wonder if you’d make it back in time for the service tonight. No wet boots beyond the kitchen. I need to get changed.”
“Yes, mama, you old mother hen.” Burt shed his coat, and Brock welcomed the wafting chilled air that cooled him in response to the almost tender moment with Izzy.
She brushed his sleeve. “Oh, I better get ready myself. Thanks for the tour, Brock.”
Izzy Kahn might just as well have shocked him with a live wire the way a current of high voltage shot through him.
Brock raced up the stairs, replaced his beige flannel with a hunter green sweater, and ran his fingers through his over-long hair. He added a splash of old-fashioned smell-good, patted each cheek, and hoped Izzy would go for it. He commanded his feet to not tromp down the stairs, or his knees to bounce when he sat. He jumped to his feet at the sound of the opening bathroom door.
She appeared in the hall dressed in red, her hair pulled up away from her face.
Brock gulped. His feet felt glued to the floor. Corny clichés crimped his senses. Speechless. Mesmerized. Tantalized. Frozen in place.
Burt stared from where he stood in front of the fireplace, rooted in place as well.
Brock slapped his brother on the shoulder. The action broke his trance.
“God sure did good when He made you.”
She dipped in a mini curtsey. “Thank you, kind rescuer.”
His tongue thickened, and he fought a cough.
Izzy wore high color in her cheeks. He wanted to think he’d put the blush there. A fleeting thought made him wish they could stay home tonight, sit in front of the fire rather than go out in the cold. Yet, the cold was what he needed at the moment.
5
Izzy had called her parents before the Christmas Eve service.
Brock’s father presented a wonderful message. At one point, he drew laughter when he thanked the congregation for choosing this Rockbridge Fellowship along church row.
She asked Brock about it after the service, and he answered before they left their seats. “In the seventies, several big churches were developed in a row down 84th Street. Dad claimed the church parking lots were surrounded as much by corn or soybeans as housing developments.”
Now after the service, and a second call home, snow plows had yet to clear roads to her rural home. She swiped a tear of disappointment. “Stay in touch, Mom. Love you.” She rejoined Brock and extended her hand to Pastor Winston. “Thank you so much, Pastor. You cracked me up when you quoted your grandpa’s ‘Yessiree, Bob’ for emphasis.”
“Call me Bob. I learned a long time ago I need to keep listeners from falling asleep.”
“And on a serious note, I’ll remember the simplicity of your Christmas message for a long time. ‘Christ came. He died and overcame. And He’ll come again.’ Thank you.”
“I appreciate that you paid attention. But the words are not my own; I am but a willing vessel.”
Humble as well as a willing vessel. “This is the first Christmas Eve I haven’t spent with my parents and sister, unless I was too small to remember. Your congregation and your sons have made this night a memorable one to cherish.”
“You just missed my wife. She went on ahead to make sure the food is hot. You’re not returning to Brock’s place alone while he spends the rest of the evening with us. Boys, bring this young woman to the house.”
“Yes, sir.”
Burt winked at Brock over their exactly timed response.
Brock added a qualifier. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Dad.”
Outside the church, they were greeted by a fingernail moon and myriad stars.
Brock took her elbow. “Hard to believe the calm compared to the schizophrenic snow of last night.” He tossed his keys to Burt. “Bring around my truck. I don’t want Izzy to step wrong and slip.”
“You would be terrible on a mountain trail. I’ve been walking on these two feet all my life.”
“Maybe so, but not the night after you spent hours in a wrecked car.”
She shivered. Except for the dream in the bathtub, she’d worked hard to put those trapped hours far from her thoughts.
At a shove against his back, Brock lurched forward.
“See you at the house, nimrod.”
“Wait, horsetail. Izzy, meet Ali, my oldest sister. Ever since she was a kid and read the name in the Bible, she’s called me a nimrod.”
“Nice to meet you, Ali. At least, nimrod is a name. I wouldn’t want anything to do with being called a horse’s tail.”
Ali chalked a mark in the air with a finger. “I like her, little brother. There’s my chariot. See you at the house.”
A coat-sleeved arm opened the passenger door of a silver SUV; then the arm disappeared.
Brock rested a hand on Izzy’s back. “The guy you couldn’t see is her husband Mark. He worked late so they sat in the back of the church tonight. Audra and Matt both worked today, too. They went to church with his folks because it was closer. But they’ll be at the house to eat and open gifts.”
Gifts? “I’ll be intruding. You can take me to your place, and then you go spend time with your family.”
Brock opened the passenger door before Burt brought the truck to a stop. “No way. I have orders from my parents to bring you along.”
She ignored Brock’s outstretched hand and found the hand grip. She could take just so much of this being treated like a helpless damsel in distress. “Do Ali or Audra have kids?”
“Not yet. I look forward to being an uncle.”
“I love being an aunt. One of the things I miss most about not being home tonight is spending time with Chance.”
“You’ll be home for Christmas Day with your family. I promise.”
It didn’t take long to reach the Winston home ten minutes from the church.
Again, Brock escorted Izzy to the door. The door banged opened before Brock reached it. “Come in, come in. Welcome, Izzy. I’m so thankful the Lord provided my son for you and you are out of the hospital. I’m Sheila. Let Brock take your coat. I told him if you needed to remain hospitalized, he should be with you so you wouldn’t spend Christmas alone. But look! You’re here. What a blessing.”
Whew. Izzy wanted to take a breath for her, but Sheila Winston made Izzy feel welcome.
The house glittered and sparkled and smelled divine. Cinnamon and seafood, what a combination of scents.
“I’ll show you the lay of the family area here. The kitchen on the left, obviously. And beyond is the powder room. You make yourself at home and have a Merry Christmas. I’m so sorry you aren’t with your family. I hear the sky really dumped on the country that direction out of Lincoln. You can see most of our living is done in the great room, where we do have a dining room. These guys have such broad shoulders anymore, the only way we can fit around the table is to sit boy, girl, boy, girl.”
Brock sent Iizzy a smile of commiseration as he strode back into the great room.
“We downsized after Audra got married, or we’d offer you a room. All we’d have if you stayed is a loveseat, though we have several, or the floor.” Sheila waved her hand and turned her head to the door.
Brock’s sisters came through the door with their trailing husbands. Mayhem ensued.
“We’re al
l here, now.” Sheila beamed. “If you haven’t met her, this is Izzy. Boys, take your wives’ wraps into the den, and let’s all find our seats.”
During a lull in conversation when everyone spooned the variety of soups as though they hadn’t eaten in days, Izzy warmed herself as much with the memory of Brock’s gaze as the spicy gumbo. She set down her spoon, recalling the blaze in his eyes. Twice, she’d caught that promise of a connection that remained unexplored. At the bottom of the stairs, just as Burt returned from running his mom’s errand, Brock had wanted to kiss her.
She couldn’t chase away that moment.
Izzy wanted to kiss him in return. He’d gone gaga expressing his appreciation of her red dress, she’d responded to the spark in his eye. Who knew what fires may have ignited if Burt hadn’t been with them?
She sensed that same heat at the moment and reached for her glass of water rather than meet his gaze across the table. They’d spent hours together. In the hospital, she’d concentrated on his good looks rather than give in to the rising panic every time she recalled being trapped in the car. He was handsome with his rich, sable locks that had a tendency to curl. The hint of a cleft in his chin dimmed compared to the depth of the dimple in his right cheek.
She lifted her gaze across the table into his brooding eyes tucked underneath thick brows. She sucked in air and imagined his thoughts had strayed the same direction as hers.
Audra’s voice snapped them both out of the trance they shared. “What are you studying in school, Izzy?”
“Uh.” She cleared her throat, and turned in Audra’s direction. “Kinesiology.”
“What in the world is that?” Sheila settled a cheese covered cracker on the edge of her plate.
“There is no easy answer to what kinesthetic means. I love the whole concept.” She glanced around the table and made eye contact. They all looked at her with undivided attention.
Brock most of all.
“Kinesiology pertains to the movement of our bodies related to a connection between our senses and joints, muscles, and tendons. Our bodies touch something at all times. The earth, a floor, or a machine. Air surrounds us as we breathe and move and feel. For instance, when we exercise or participate in sports, our eyes absorb nature, fellow teammates, or the mechanics of pulleys and weights. Our minds reach out and touch and receive sensation as well. Movement through exercise is so beneficial to our minds. Being physically active enables us to keep in touch with our feelings and what is going on around us.” Izzy sucked in a big breath, let it out on a laugh. It was too quiet with no one eating and clinking dishes. “I’m sorry. I get carried away whenever I talk about it.”
“That keeping in touch thing, I’ve heard you on the phone. You and your mother must use that stay-in-touch phrase a lot.”
“I like that you’re close to your parents.” Bob Winston passed her an assortment of condiments. “I finally placed where I’ve heard the name Kahn. Years ago I pastored at County Christian Church between Ashland and Elmwood out your direction.”
“That’s right, Dad,” Ali broke in and turned Izzy’s way. “Do you have a sister named Abigail? I was in high school with—”
“I got it. I thought you had a familiar look somehow. Same age as Ali means your sister was two years ahead of me.” All gazes swung to Brock. He grinned and that dimple of his winked at her.
“That Abigail girl could sprint. We were on the high school track team when Dad pastored that church.”
Izzy nodded and smiled. “She’s still fast, but her son is catching up.”
Seated on her other side, Burt tapped Izzy on the shoulder. “You and Mom are odd women out because your names don’t begin with A.”
“All these names beginning with A could get tangled. But it’s done now.” Sheila said. It was obvious she received silent satisfaction at the sight of her family around her table.
Izzy glanced at Brock. Her tummy quickened at the glint in his eye as he glared at his brother. Burt had teased her. Could that be a hint of jealousy in Brock’s eye?
Sheila’s chair creaked. She leaned back, a warm mug of tea between both hands. “Where is Abigail now, Izzy?”
“She landed in Omaha, not far at all. Abigail is a single mom to Chance, the best and brightest nephew a girl could have. He’s probably grown two inches since I saw him in late summer.”
“You’ll get to check out his height tomorrow.” Audra jabbed Burt in the ribs. Her eyes sparkled with a teasing light. “Good thing Brock is around to drive you. He helps everybody.”
Brock had been a hero to others besides her.
She studied the people around the table, Brock’s family. It was easy to see how much their brother meant to them.
But why did his father wear a frown and stare at his plate?
Izzy’s gaze came to rest on Brock, whose gaze was fixed on her as intently as a caress. He might just as well have touched her. Her mouth dried up at his attention. A millimeter at a time, his lips slid into a full-watt smile. The single dimple dipped deep and she answered with her own. No one else existed. Her breath caught, sighed out. She lifted her glass and broke the connection.
She didn’t want to go where this thing with Brock might be leading. She didn’t have time for him beyond tomorrow. The day after Christmas, she needed a car. In a few more days, she was due at work. An internship waited, followed by graduation.
“Oh, my gosh. Mom!”
Izzy jerked out of her future.
“What now, Audra?” Sheila’s tone held practiced patience.
“Look at Izzy’s dimple. Only one. And it’s on the opposite side of Brock’s. If you two got married, your kids would get a dimple from each of you and be killer good looking. It’s like your dimples are looking at each other.”
All sound ceased around the table.
Izzy couldn’t have glanced at Brock if Santa’s reindeer were clamoring on the roof.
Pastor Bob cleared his throat. “Awkward. I apologize for my youngest daughter’s outburst, Izzy. Let’s finish our meal and get on to bountiful gifts.”
Awkward indeed to sit and watch another family’s celebration. Brock was her ride home for Christmas Day. She’d be with him another twenty-four hours.
And what next?
6
“I still can’t believe your mom gave me a present, Brock. Her gift of hospitality far exceeded anything I could have expected.”
“That’s my mom. She’s reached out to women in need for as long as I’ve known her. I have to admit, Burt, you did a good job of picking out that nice blue stocking cap and scarf that looks so pretty on Izzy.”
There was no answer from the club seat. Burt was either sleeping or had chosen to eavesdrop.
“He did do well. I plan to wear the scarf tomorrow. The colors remind me of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. I’ll never forget how you, your mom, and the whole family made me feel so welcome tonight.”
“We may all be adults, but it had to feel uncomfortable in a room full of people opening bright colored packages while you sat there and watched us without a gift of your own to brighten up the night. We didn’t want you to miss your folks the whole time.”
“You’ll get me there tomorrow, Brock. I trust in this truck, cleared roads or not. And I knew as soon as I saw you in full light at the hospital ER that I could trust you. I’ll never be able to repay all that you’ve done for me. Not just your home, but now since your whole family treated me so well, I’ll cherish this Christmas memory and talk about it for years to come. Thank you.”
“Thanks for trusting me. That means a lot. Thirty-year-old man that I am, Mom still took me aside and reminded me of my responsibilities as a Christian man. Burt had to promise her he’d sleep with one eye and ear open and keep me upstairs during the hours until breakfast. I could have bunked with him and given you my room, but she said she’d come home and sleep with Oscar on the floor before she’d approve of you in a room upstairs.”
“I told you earlier the couch will be more t
han adequate. I’ve slept in a dorm room with a small bed I’m sure was less comfortable.” She giggled.
“What?”
“Your mom taking you aside. I’ve already braced for the talk from my dad after being with you. I’ll tout your heroism and upbringing as a preacher’s kid. I have good feelings about it.”
“Our parents come from the same generation. How about some Christmas tunes? In a couple days it’ll all be over and we’ll have to wait until next year.”
They sang along with the radio and talked little until they reached his lovely historic home. The men shooed her off and took care of her coat, food goodies from Sheila Winston, and their gifts.
Izzy finished in the bathroom with a swipe of lip balm. She sucked in her cheeks to keep from laughing over the memory of Audra’s remark about her dimple matching Brock’s.
She repacked her cosmetics and her dirty laundry, checked the pile of clothes readied to wear in the morning, and pulled down the hem of her sweatshirt to cover the top band of her fleece pants. The hallway was dark. Strings of Christmas lights shone from the tree gracing the stairs, the mantel, and the front window.
Lamplight and the glow of the fireplace raised shadows and hid corners of the sectional portion of the room. She sniffed, recalling the light of the hospital and Brock’s company during the previous night hours.
He entered from the den TV room, and she jumped.
“Sorry. Burt’s already upstairs. I wanted to say good night.”
Near enough to catch a scent, he must have indulged in one of his mother’s peppermint-iced cookies, she searched for something to say. “Th—”
“Shhh.” He covered her mouth with two fingers and leaned in.
She’d wanted to kiss him, of course. She’d dreamed of love. But tasting the promise of love on a man’s lips belonged to a whole different category of imagination. No comparison.
Love? What was she thinking after mere hours of knowing the man?
~*~
Brock awakened to a soft keening next to his shoulder.
Oscar.
“What is it, boy?”
The dog’s tail thumped against the nightstand.