Stuck On You (A Christmas Novella)

by Gibson, Rhonda

  “I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but I do need to talk to you for a few minutes. So, sure, did you have a particular shop in mind where you can get your coffee?”

  Morgan began walking. “Not really. What is your drink of choice? Hot cider? Eggnog?”

  Sheila smiled. “None of the above. I’m a dark-chocolate drinker.”

  “With marshmallows?” He spun on his heel and started walking back toward Deck the Hall.

  She laughed, wondering where he was headed. “Is there any other way to drink cocoa?”

  “Sure there is. My sister drinks hers with a peppermint stick poking out of whipped cream. She insists this technique makes the drink perfect.” Morgan stopped in front of Carly’s Cookie Jar. “How about here? I think they serve both chocolate and coffee.”

  “Perfect. I’ve been in here several times. They have the cutest gingerbread-men cookies.”

  He tilted his head to the side and studied her. “And this is important because—?”

  She liked the way his eyebrow quirked up as he waited for her answer. “Because my kitchen is done in gingerbread men.

  Sometimes I buy cookies here to put on plates in my kitchen. I have a niece who loves them.”

  “So gingerbread men are something else you collect?” He proceeded into the store.

  “Sort of. I like gingerbread men, and my family started adding pieces every year to go in my kitchen. So I have a collection, but I don’t actively go out and look for pieces to add to it. My family does that for me.” Sheila felt as if she were rambling. She decided to focus on her surroundings, even though she’d been in the store numerous times.

  Carly’s Cookie Jar wasn’t very big, but it had a large glass display case full of cookies. Several tables and chairs served the customers, and in one corner were two smaller tables and chairs for children to sit on while decorating their own cookies. A sign with the words Kids’ Corner distinguished that section as a child-friendly environment.

  She noticed the shop was ready for Christmas. Lighted garlands, a small tree on the end of the counter where purchases were rung up, and a collection of Christmas cookie jars decorated the shelves around the shop. Sheila knew the tagless jars belonged to the owner’s mother and weren’t for sale. The store was called Carly’s Cookie Jar, but and cookies, coffee, and hot chocolate were sold here.

  “What can I get for you?” the young woman at the register asked.

  Morgan motioned for Sheila to order first.

  Sheila smiled. “I’d like a large hot chocolate and a sugar cookie.”

  “Make that four sugar cookies and a cup of coffee, too,” Morgan added from beside her. He shifted all the bags to one hand and pulled a wallet from his pocket with his free hand as their order was being rung up.

  Sheila wasn’t sure she wanted him paying for her morning treat. “You don’t have to buy mine,” she protested, reaching into her purse for her ever-elusive wallet.

  “Oh, but I do. If you hadn’t ordered a sugar cookie, I would have forgotten to order mine. So you see, I owe you a strong, hot mug and a delicate morsel to repay you for such kindness.”

  She found herself laughing once more. Morgan sounded like a knight of old. If he had used the words “my lady,” Sheila felt sure she would have curtsied with the words “thank you, my lord” upon her lips. Instead she offered a simple, “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He handed her the bag of cookies and resituated the packages he’d been carrying. “I’ll be right back for the drinks,” Morgan told the girl at the counter.

  She smiled sweetly at him. “Okay, they’ll be here waiting for you.” Sheila led him to a table off to the side, placing them between the entryway and the children’s center. “Is this okay?”

  Morgan set the bags down. “Perfect. Be right back.”

  She watched as he moved between the tables. Under his coat, she could see the outline of his wide shoulders. His hair curled around his collar and looked windswept. He turned with a smile, revealing even white teeth. Her heart melted a little before she could stop it.

  Morgan returned and slipped into the chair opposite her.

  The sweet smell of hot chocolate drifted to her as he passed across her drink. “Have you given any thought to our conversation from the other day?”

  Sheila pulled a cookie from the bag. “As a matter of fact, I have. I’m willing to share my stories with you, but I still don’t like the idea of sharing the byline.” She held her breath, hoping he’d say he’d reconsidered.

  He pulled the bag of cookies to himself. “The byline is necessary for us to work together.”

  She looked at him. It sounded as if he’d had trouble getting those words out. “Okay.”

  Morgan sat forward in his chair and leaned on the table.

  “Okay? That’s it?” An undercurrent of anger flowed through her. She felt her face flush but held her tongue. Why did he have to act so astonished? Was he expecting the worst from her? Or did he know how hard it was for her to share the byline, and this was his way of rubbing it in? Sheila sent a silent prayer heavenward for patience. “That’s it.”

  “Good. I’m glad you decided to see reason.” He leaned back and took a deep drink of his coffee then grimaced.

  She hoped it scorched his tongue. Immediately she felt bad for the thought. Sheila took a sip of her chocolate and waited for him to say something she could respond to. Right now she didn’t feel much like speaking to Morgan Foster at all.

  He motioned toward the bags at their feet. “Christmas shopping?”

  “A little, but mainly they’re Christmas ornaments.” She nibbled at her cookie.

  “Foster ornaments?”

  Sheila set her mug down and nodded. “Yes. Want to see which one I plan to write about first?” She watched his eyes light up with what she hoped was excitement.

  “You already have one picked out to start with?”

  “I had chosen one at home that I thought I’d write about first, but this one just spoke to me. I have to do its story first.” Sheila bent over and dug in the bags. She found the box she was looking for and pulled it free.

  He leaned forward.

  Carefully she unwrapped the chosen ornament. It was a small hedgehog with colorful bows stuck to its body. A red one on its head, a yellow bow on its back, and a blue one stuck to one of its paws. She flipped it over and read, “Stuck on You.” Sheila was surprised to hear his voice blend with hers as she read.

  “That’s one of my favorites,” he said.

  Sheila held it close to her face and stared into the little eyes. Long eyelashes revealed the little hedgehog was a girl. “It’s quite expressive. Do you remember what you were thinking when you drew it?”

  A soft smile touched his lips. Sheila watched him closely as he answered. “Something silly, I’m sure.”

  She didn’t push him for a better answer. If he didn’t want to say, he didn’t have to. But his smile had been nice to witness.

  “What are you going to write about our friend there?”

  Morgan took a drink of his coffee and ate one of his cookies in two bites.

  Sheila turned her attention back to the ornament. “I haven’t really decided. I’ll let you know in a few days.”

  Morgan realized later he didn’t have Sheila’s contact information. He wondered if she was in the phone book and decided to check it out later. Looking at the boxed crate, he decided to take care of Noel’s needs first and then wrestle the kennel out of the SUV. He entered the back door, carrying bags of puppy things.

  Noel greeted him with licks and whines.

  He fished her new pink collar and matching leash from the bag. Kneeling down in front of her, he said, “Hey, girl, did you miss me?”

  In answer Morgan received another wet kiss from the puppy.

  “No kisses!” he ordered, wiping puppy slobber off his cheek. He managed to get the collar around her neck. “Did you know you’re a Great Dane?”

  She wiggled about.

/>   “Not just any ol’ Great Dane either. You, little lady, are a blue Great Dane. See?” He pulled the book on Great Danes from one of the many scattered shopping bags and held it up for her to see.

  Noel studied the cover as if she understood every word he’d said.

  Morgan laughed. Having Noel around might not be so bad after all. He attached the leash to the collar and stood. “Ready for a walk?”

  The puppy turned to the door and pulled on the leash.

  “That’s a good girl. But I warn you. It’s cold out.” He and the Great Dane puppy went around the block. She kept her nose close to the ground and smelled every little thing along the way.

  Morgan enjoyed the fresh air. Snowbound Village had grown in the last ten years. He enjoyed the quaintness of downtown but loved his neighborhood. It sat on the outskirts of the town. He was thankful he could still venture out into the woods with just a short walk as he had as a boy. Adventures in the woods had inspired the creation of Foster’s Woodland Collectibles.

  His thoughts turned to the hedgehog Christmas ornament. He’d created it on a day when he had felt prickly about his life. Morgan recalled telling the Lord how unsettled he felt. He’d confessed his desire for a wife, children, and a place farther away from town where he could be among the forest creatures. Later that day, he’d drawn his little hedgehog and added the Christmas bows last. He hadn’t thought of that day in a long time. At the time of its creation, the little hedgehog had represented his lack of love.

  Her choosing to use the “Stuck on You” ornament made him wonder if this was God’s way of telling him to pursue Sheila Fisher.

  Chapter 5

  Sheila sat in front of her fireplace. The embers crackled and popped. The Christmas ornament sat to her right, a hot cup of chocolate on her left. She placed the yellow legal pad on her lap desk and began to write.

  Once upon a time, there lived a little hedgehog named Hannah. Hannah and her mother, father, and two sisters lived in the woods. A small hole in the ground was the entrance to their home. Hannah hurried through the earth door. She rushed through the kitchen, her nose twitching as the scent of mushroom soup on the stove caused her tummy to grumble.

  Hannah ignored the feeling.

  She couldn’t believe how pretty she looked today. Mr. Toad had told her a red Christmas bow adorned her head and a yellow one rested on her back quills, and she could see the blue one that was attached to her paw. She knew the red and yellow were pretty because the blue one was.

  Thanks to the human’s carelessness, she’d rolled right into a bag of Christmas bows that had been discarded as trash.

  “Mama, look at me,” she squeaked, hurrying into the family room.

  Mama Hedgehog sat in her favorite overstuffed chair. She held her latest knitting project on her lap. Hannah’s two sisters played with their rag dolls on the floor at her feet. Mama laid down her knitting and stared at her oldest daughter. “Hannah, where did you get those?” She pointed with her needles at the bows.

  “Aren’t they beautiful? I rolled into them when I was escaping Mr. Morgan’s mean old dog.” Hannah turned around so her mother and sisters could get a good look at all three bows.

  “I want one!” wailed her little sister Harley. The little hedge maid jumped up on her back paws.

  Honey, the baby, squealed, “Me, too!”

  Hannah put out her paws to ward off her sisters. “No! I found them. They’re mine.”

  Mama looked from one daughter to the other.

  “Hannah, it would be nice if you shared with your sisters.”

  “I don’t want to share with them. I always have to share. This time I want to keep the bows all to myself. I found them.” She crossed her arms over her chest and thrust out her chin.

  Harley and Baby Honey wailed their disappointment.

  Her mother tisked and shook her head. “Is that what Jesus would do?” She pulled the two younger hedge children to her.

  “I don’t know,” Hannah answered, knowing it wasn’t true. Jesus would share, but Hannah didn’t want to.

  Sheila looked over her story. So far, so good. But what would Hannah and Mama do next? Should she send Hannah on an adventure? Or simply allow Mama to talk some sense into her oldest daughter? Or would Mama think up a good solution? Sheila laid the pad and pencil to the side and picked up her hot chocolate.

  She cradled the cup in her hands. Her gaze moved to the fire, and she allowed her thoughts to run wild. Hannah could go on an adventure and come across three other animals that showed her sharing was much more fun than being selfish.

  Sheila swirled a peppermint stick inside her chocolate. Why had she given in to the temptation to try hot chocolate the way Morgan’s sister liked it? She ignored the inner question and tried to focus on Hannah and her dilemma.

  Three bows, two sisters—Hannah could give her sisters each a bow and would still have one of her own. But she had to have a good reason to do so. What was that reason?

  She stood up and walked to the window. Frost covered the outside pane of glass. The snowflake like sparkles brought a smile to her face. The fire crackled behind her, and she enjoyed the coziness of her home.

  The phone rang, breaking the quietness of the room. Sheila allowed the answering machine to pick up. Her sister Samantha’s voice filled the room. “Sheila, I’m heading to the hospital. Sarah is in labor.”

  Sheila grabbed her purse and coat. She closed up the fireplace and hurried to meet her family at the hospital.

  Morgan felt silly dressed as one of Santa’s elves. His green and red costume with a matching hat and leggings was comfortable on his body. It was the jingly bell on the hat that felt ridiculous.

  “Smile. Santa’s elves are supposed to be happy,” Carla, a fellow elf and church friend, whispered as she passed by. She carried a handful of candy canes.

  Morgan followed. “Easy for you to say—you don’t have to write down all these names and Christmas wishes,” he teased as he followed her into the children’s ward of the hospital.

  “You volunteered, Foster. So stop being a whiny elf.” She laughed.

  Morgan stuck out his tongue at her. He liked Carla. She was easy to be around, and the fact that she was already married made it easy to joke with her. With Carla, he knew she wasn’t flirting, simply having fun. She followed her husband, Santa Claus, down the long hallway. Santa was really Dennis Wheeler, his best friend and the one who’d called him thirty minutes earlier to come play elf.

  “Come on, old buddy. We have children to visit,” Dennis called back to him.

  He hurried to catch up with his two friends. The bell on his hat jingled with each step.

  When Morgan was even with them, Dennis asked, “How’s it going with the lady author?”

  “Good. We met yesterday, and she’s already chosen an ornament to start writing about.”

  “Which one?” Carla asked, keeping in step with her husband.

  “Stuck on You.”

  Dennis stopped. “That’s the one with the bear and its cub. Right?”

  “Wrong. It’s the one with the mouse and the teacup,” Carla answered with a giggle.

  Morgan shook his head in mock sorrow, causing the bell to dance merrily beside his right ear. “You’re both wrong. It’s the little hedgehog with all the Christmas bows stuck to it.”

  “Oh,” both Carla and Dennis said in unison.

  “Look who’s here!” A nurse opened double glass doors to allow them into the children’s ward.

  “It’s Santa!” the children squealed.

  Carla and Morgan fell into step behind Dennis. He entered the room with a merry “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

  In a matter of minutes, the room was organized. Carla passed out candy canes, Dennis sat in a big chair at the back of the room, and Morgan stood by his side. As each child took a turn sitting on Santa’s lap, Morgan jotted down the names and what they wanted for Christmas. He wrote them on what looked like a long scroll with a big feather pen.

  “
Hello, little girl, what’s your name?”

  “Sheila Lynn.”

  Morgan’s head snapped up. He was surprised a young girl would carry the name Sheila. Even with Lynn stuck onto it, the name felt old-fashioned to him. He looked at the sweet-faced little girl who sat on Santa’s lap. Her brown hair had been pulled up into a ponytail. Sparkling blue eyes looked up at Dennis with admiration. Morgan guessed her to be about four years old.

  “What do you want Santa to bring you, Sheila Lynn?”

  A hush fell over the room. Morgan grinned. It amazed him that all the children stopped what they were doing to hear what they each wanted for Christmas. Soft sounds of sucking on peppermint sticks could be heard in the stillness.

  His gaze returned to Santa. He held his pen ready to write down what the child wanted to find under her tree on Christmas morning.

  The little girl chewed on her finger for a moment then said, “Well, I’d like to have a buggy to put my baby in, but Mama says my aunt Sheila really needs a husband bad. Can you give Aunt Sheila a husband?”

  A gasp filled the back of the room.

  Morgan looked to the spot where the sound had emerged. He knew before his gaze locked with hers that Sheila Fisher stood at the back of the room. Her cheeks were rosy with embarrassment.

  Santa laughed with a loud “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Then he tweaked her nose. “Well, Sheila Lynn. . .Santa’s not very good at finding husbands for big girls, but I’ll see if we have any buggies left in the workshop for your baby. How would that be?”

  The little girl wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a big kiss. “Thanks, Santa.” As soon as her feet hit the floor, she skipped back to her aunt.

  Morgan watched them leave, hand in hand. He wondered what they were doing at the hospital. The desire to follow them pulled at him, but so did his duty to Santa and the rest of the children at the hospital.

  Chapter 6

  Sheila still felt the sting of heat in her cheeks. “Samantha, how could Sarah tell Sheila Lynn such a thing?” She paced in the waiting area.

  “I’m sure she didn’t just tell Sheila Lynn. Our sister probably said it to Dave, and Little Ears probably overheard her.”