We Need a Little Christmas

by Sierra Donovan

  A clink of tokens, and the machine revved to life. Liv watched the blinking light and tried to keep her mind on baseball.

  The ball fired out, and she swung. And swung. And swung.

  A tip. Another tip. A line drive. Her arms and shoulders ached in protest, but so far she’d connected with every pitch.

  “Eye on the ball,” Scott reminded her after her third tip in a row.

  Liv took a deep breath, kept her eye on the ball, and swung hard. Another line drive. Silence from Scott.

  She didn’t know how many balls she had left, but she knew it was less than half. When the next one flew out, she put all her weight into the swing, right where she wanted it, and somehow she knew it was right before she connected with the ball. Then she felt the solid impact of wood against ball that set her shoulders screaming. And sent the ball sailing.

  Up. And up.

  She stared at the ball against the night sky, and for a moment it seemed to climb straight for Mount Douglas in a beautiful arc before it hit the rope mesh that hung overhead. It sank like a wounded bird, landing far at the back of the enclosure.

  “Keep going,” Scott said. “Here comes your next one.”

  She’d barely cranked her arms back when the ball fired out, and she kept swinging, but it didn’t matter much now.

  Three more line drives, in a row, solidly connecting with the ball every time. And then the light on the machine went out.

  Everything after her lone fly ball had been anticlimactic, but it was enough. Liv lowered the bat and shook her arms out as she met Scott’s eyes. She couldn’t keep a triumphant smile off her face. She stayed where she was, beside the imaginary home plate, relishing the moment. Outside the batting cage, reality waited, and she didn’t want to think about that right now.

  Scott gave her a nod of satisfaction as he came back into the cage with her. “Atta girl,” he said. “I knew you could do it.”

  Liv’s heart skittered. Under the bright outdoor floodlights, suddenly the scene felt unreal, like something out of a movie.

  Not sure what to say, she held the bat out to him. “That did it for me,” she said. “Want to hit a few now?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m good.”

  “You sure?” She dangled the bat loosely, letting it swing like the pendulum of a clock. “What, are you chicken?” she teased.

  It didn’t get the reaction she expected. Scott inclined his head and stared at her.

  “Chicken?” he echoed.

  She’d sparked something, hit some sort of nerve, and she wasn’t sure what it was.

  Not until he sauntered purposefully toward Liv, blue eyes never leaving hers as he stopped before her and pulled the silly batting helmet off her head. He tossed it carelessly to the ground a few feet away, his gaze still unwavering.

  “Which one of us is chicken?” he said softly.

  The moment still felt surreal, like a movie. Or a dream. Maybe that was what kept Liv pinned in place, watching it all in slow motion.

  But no dream had ever felt like this.

  Hands on her shoulders, he bent to kiss her, and Liv never thought about pulling away as his lips pressed over hers, warm and sure. Purposeful. Like someone who knew exactly what he wanted. And Liv knew she’d been wanting the same thing all along, ever since that moment earlier tonight in front of the silver tree, and all during the past week as they worked side by side.

  When they’d kissed in the attic, he’d let her take the lead. This was different. Liv stood on tiptoe to meet his kiss head-on, clasping her arms around his neck to hold on. Scott brought one arm down to encircle her waist, closing more of the space between them, steadying her.

  Maybe it really was a dream, because when he released her and eased her back down until she stood squarely on her feet, it was hard to open her eyes.

  Liv kept her hands clasped behind his neck, because for some reason, her legs didn’t seem to be working right. They trembled, and she didn’t think she’d been on tiptoe that long.

  “What was that?” she murmured.

  “A good idea?” He brushed a strand of hair back from her face, and dimly she remembered she was wearing the same ponytail she’d started the day with. It had to be a mess by now, especially after the baseball helmet. She brought her hands to her hair, trying not to wobble as she disengaged herself from Scott.

  “Want to get some dinner?” he said. “And maybe that margarita?”

  Earth to Liv. Earth to Liv.

  What had she been thinking? Surely, it was the longest she could remember going without thinking. And she sure couldn’t blame it on spring fever.

  “I’m sorry.” She stepped back and saw Scott’s eyes go dim in an instant. “I can’t. I’ve got to—”

  “Liv, don’t do this. Not again.”

  “I’m only going to be here one more week—”

  “Then what are you so afraid of?”

  He’d asked her that before. Maybe she owed him an honest answer. If only she knew what that answer was. All she knew was that, standing this close to Scott, thinking about how lost she’d been a few minutes ago, she felt something close to panic.

  “I don’t know. I’m afraid I won’t want to leave. It’s going to be hard enough as it is.”

  “Maybe you don’t have to.”

  And under the warm weight of his eyes, she felt her near panic turn to terror.

  “I have to,” she said. “I have a business. I have a partner. I have commitments.”

  That word commitment hung in the air, and in a moment of inspiration, she seized on it.

  “What about you?” she challenged. “Maybe you like the fact that I have to be gone in a week. Maybe that’s why you keep going after these transitional girls. You like things with a built-in exit.”

  He looked as if she’d slapped him in the face. Had she hit on a truth?

  Scott’s eyes shuttered and his hand went into his jeans pocket for his car keys.

  “You win,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Joe Velosa frowned quizzically at Scott from behind the counter at the recreation center. “Scotty,” he said. “You’re back.”

  “Yep.” Scott handed him a twenty to make change for the token machine.

  “We close in fifteen minutes,” Joe said.

  “That’s okay. It won’t take long.”

  Scott passed once again through the recreation center’s arcade to the batting cages outside, popped in his tokens and stood ready with his bat.

  And one after another, with a swing that was second nature, he scooped those balls toward the now black sky. There was barely time to watch each ball hit the mesh at the back of the cages before the next pitch came, but that wasn’t the point. The point was hitting them, one after another, feeling the sure, solid connection of bat against ball.

  She didn’t remember.

  He’d been Tall Pine High’s star hitter, with a pretty decent throwing arm in the bargain. His coach had urged Scott to try out for the minor leagues, but he hadn’t been interested. Playing against Mount Douglas—and kidnapping their goose—was as competitive as he got. He knew the professional sports world was intense, maybe even cutthroat. The idea of leaving Tall Pine, traveling across the country to compete, hadn’t interested him on anything but a fantasy level. He just liked hitting the ball.

  He wasn’t that competitive. Which, he supposed, was why Liv was in Dallas, and he was still in Tall Pine.

  He sent every one of the machine-pitched balls soaring, wishing he could at least get the satisfaction of wearing his muscles out. The way he felt right now, he’d need another couple of hours to do that.

  Coming here to the cages was usually a good way to vent his frustrations, if he had any. Mostly he just enjoyed keeping his swing in shape. Liv probably wouldn’t understand that.

  And that remark of hers about the other women he’d dated—

  The light on the machine went out, and Scott reloaded the t
okens quickly, before time ran out and the place shut down.

  Liv’s comment bothered him so much he should probably think about it, but it felt wrong. All wrong. The other breakups had left him scuffed and bruised, but not mortally wounded. This was something else. It wasn’t even over, had never even really started, and he felt like hell.

  Scott would finish the job on Nammy’s house. Liv’s mother would pay him with a check he didn’t even want. Then Liv would get on a plane, and that would be that.

  Two intense kissing sessions. Not even one date. And Liv Tomblyn was breaking his heart.

  Chapter 19

  Liv woke up feeling as if she’d been run over by a whole convoy of buses. When she opened her eyes, the room looked faintly gray. What was it, five in the morning?

  Propping herself up on her elbow, she checked the digital clock on the night table on the far side of the bed. Usually she had to look over Rachel’s head to see the time. Today, only a pile of squashed pillows rested between Liv and the clock. It read eight forty-five.

  That startled her into sitting fully upright. It was two hours later in Dallas. Terri would be waiting to hear from her. And Liv didn’t know what to say.

  She’d sent Terri a quick text on the way to the batting cages: Got your message. I’m sorry for the mess. My brain is processing. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll figure things out.

  In Liv’s world, “processing” now apparently meant hitting one fly ball, kissing Scotty Leroux, and running for the hills. Again.

  Liv scrubbed her fingers over her sandy eyes and willed herself to concentrate. Things were supposed to look clearer in the morning. But all she could see was the same thing she’d seen, on and off, all night long while she tossed: Scott’s eyes under the artificial lights at the batting cages, with their changing expressions of warmth, teasing—and, finally, blue frost.

  It hurt, all the way down to the pit of her stomach. She kept coming back for a taste of something she knew she couldn’t have. It just wasn’t possible.

  Melt into Scott’s arms, for a little while. Stop being strong, for just a moment. But then, the inevitable tearing-away process when she pulled away to stand up straight again. It wasn’t good for either one of them.

  She wiped at her eyes again, alarmed because this time they felt wet instead of gritty.

  This wouldn’t do. Where was her cell phone?

  The bedroom doorknob turned. Liv jumped at the sound, her heart racing as if she’d gotten caught naked in Dillards’ display window.

  “Hey, Rip van Winkle.” Rachel came in, obscenely perky, in an oversized blue sweater and navy leggings. For the first time since Liv’s arrival in Tall Pine, Rachel was fully dressed while Liv was still in bed. “I came in to see if you died.”

  “Just woke up.” Liv turned her head away as she slid out of bed, hoping her red eyes hadn’t registered with her relentlessly chipper sister. She spotted the red metal glint of her cell phone on the floor next to the old dresser that served as Liv’s nightstand. She picked it up. The battery was still half full. But no new messages.

  “You were restless last night,” Rachel said. “It was like sleeping on board the SS Poseidon.”

  “Welcome to my world.” Liv knew she’d been tossing, but she was surprised her sister knew it, as much as Rachel had been snoring.

  “I know something that’ll make you feel better.”

  “A Christmas cookie?”

  Rachel didn’t answer. Liv turned to see her sister pulling back the curtains of the bedroom window. Watery daylight filtered into the room.

  Liv joined Rachel at the window and beheld a world of soft gray and white.

  That was why it looked like five AM in here. It had snowed overnight, and it was still trying, pale flakes drifting lazily to rest on the juniper hedges in front of the window.

  “I didn’t want you to miss it,” Rachel said.

  Liv drank in the sight of the white coating that covered the back lawn. The first snowfall since Nammy’s memorial. To most people in Tall Pine, snow meant an increase in tourist traffic. To a few, it meant a commuter’s nightmare. To local kids—and adults who hadn’t outgrown it—it meant beauty and wonder.

  Liv found she hadn’t outgrown it.

  “I want to hear it.” Liv lifted the window sash, letting in a cold blast of air that her T-shirt nightie was no match for. She listened to the whisper of snow falling on snow.

  Nothing like this in Dallas, is there? Scott’s words from a couple of weeks ago echoed in her mind. She steeled herself. Then her teeth started to chatter.

  “Okay, that’s enough.” She closed the window. “Before we die of frostbite.”

  “I was thinking maybe we could take a walk in it.”

  Liv looked at Rachel and saw two people: the little girl she’d once been, and the pregnant grown woman who stood before her now. A grown woman who might have a hunch that the snow was just what Liv needed. Liv hadn’t said much to Mom and Rachel when she got home from the batting cages, declining a cup of hot chocolate and heading straight to bed.

  Maybe the kid in Rachel just wanted to go out in the snow, or maybe the adult in her wanted to give Liv a chance to talk. Maybe the teenager, somewhere in between, was waiting for a chance to pounce with questions before she exploded.

  It didn’t matter. Liv loved them all.

  She cracked a smile. “Give me twenty minutes. First I’ve got a phone call to make.”

  * * *

  “I’m sorry,” Terri said. “I should have told you before. I’ve been trying to reach Kevin since the first, and when I finally got hold of him . . .”

  “He weaseled out,” Liv finished for her. “I don’t know why you’re apologizing to me. I’m the one he suckered into this whole storefront thing in the first place.”

  “It hasn’t exactly paid for itself.” Terri had left that unsaid the entire time they’d had the lease. The physical location had brought an increase in business, to be sure, but not enough to compensate for the increase in overhead. Give it time, Kevin had said. You have to take the long view. Worm.

  Sitting on the bed, legal pad propped up on her knees, Liv pressed the fingertips of one hand above her jaw, willing the pressure to help take away some of the tension. Her sketchy night of sleep wasn’t helping her concentrate. So far the legal pad was blank except for aimless black scribbles.

  “What we need to do,” Liv said slowly, through the ache in her jaw, “is figure out where we go from here. Whether it makes more sense to keep the lease till it runs out, or walk away from it now. Have you asked what it would cost to get out of the lease?”

  “No, I didn’t want to talk to the landlord until I talked to you.” Terri paused, and Liv heard the weight of something unsaid on the other end of the line. “There’s something else.”

  Liv tried for dry humor. “What? If a tornado hit the building, our troubles could be over.”

  “Nothing like that.” It wasn’t like Terri to stall, or to be indirect. “That event planner we did the home office for last month? She offered me a job.”

  Terri wasn’t telling her this because the client had paid her a nice compliment. Liv gulped. “It must be a pretty good offer?”

  “The money’s decent,” Terri said. “And it’s a regular paycheck. I wouldn’t be thinking about it, except now—”

  Liv nodded, though Terri couldn’t see her. “The variable income thing is tough. I know. We’ve made it work for five years, but . . .”

  Terri didn’t elaborate. “I said I’d think about it. I don’t want to leave you in the lurch. But since we need to rethink, I guess I thought I’d throw it out there. See how you felt. In case you might be ready for a change . . .”

  With one hand, Liv pressed her temple as hard as she could. With the other hand, it was all she could do to hold on to the phone. “Let’s both think about it,” she said, her mouth dry.

  “It’s just one option,” Terri agreed hastily.

  She’d worked with Terri
for five years, been friends in college for the four years before that. Terri wasn’t a weasel-worm like Kevin. And if Liv demanded that she stick it out, at least for the duration of the lease, she was pretty sure Terri would do it.

  What Liv should do was let her go with no argument. But she wasn’t ready to say the words just yet. Her mind was too much of an avalanche to make a permanent decision.

  The part of her brain that was so good at sorting, sifting, and deciding hadn’t been much use to her since she’d been in Tall Pine.

  “Let’s talk again in a few days,” Liv finally said. “Give ourselves some time to chew it over some more. And Terri?”

  “What?”

  “Thanks for taking this all on this month. I picked a heck of a time to leave, and I had no idea what a hassle I was leaving you with.”

  “Honey, it was your grandmother. It was what you needed to do.”

  When Liv hung up, one decision was already made. She wouldn’t force Terri to stick around. She had to let her go, with her blessing.

  She grabbed Rachel’s pillow, hugged it to her, and pulled her knees to her chest. Eyes closed, face scrunched into the pillow, she made herself breathe slowly and deeply.

  Everything was falling apart. This wasn’t a batting-cages moment. This was a curl-up-and-eat-chocolate moment.

  By now Scott was at Nammy’s house, starting the day’s work, undoubtedly not surprised that she hadn’t shown up. It was five days till Christmas. At the moment she could think of only two options.

  Pull the covers back over her head. Or go out there, grab some toast, and take a walk in the snow with her sister.

  * * *

  Scott didn’t make it to Olivia Neuenschwander’s house until nearly ten o’clock, stopping along the way to shovel the front walkways of a few of the older people in town. Millie Bond. Stan and Emma Fratelli. His uncle, Winston Frazier, although Scott knew Winston would be insulted if he caught him.

  Thankfully, the unexpected snow hadn’t resulted in any more frozen pipes. Otherwise his voice mail would have been going crazy.

  No, it was less than a week before Christmas, and for most people, home repairs could wait unless they were an emergency. The perfect time frame to finish up on Nammy’s house. And he knew he’d be doing it alone.