"Memories?" she questioned gently.
Joe brought his mind back to the present. "At least I have them," he murmured quietly, reaching to brush a streak of dust from Mattie's creamy cheek. "Let's make a few for you."
Mattie melted. Her eyes filled, her lips trembled as she unconsciously rubbed her face against the rough warmth of Joe's hand.
Joe pulled her carefully into his arms, pressing her face against his broad shoulder. "And for me, too," he whispered almost soundlessly, so Mattie couldn't hear. "Let's make some new memories for me, too."
* * *
Joe refused to let Mattie begin on the Christmas tree until she had eaten the supper he prepared for them. "You're still too thin," he told her autocratically.
Mattie rolled her eyes and complied, passing spurious praise on his culinary ability.
Joe, of course, got even by making her wash the dishes.
"A good host does not force his guest to wash dishes," Mattie observed blandly, up to her elbows in soapsuds.
"A good guest does not malign her host's cooking," Joe observed in return, placing a clutch of suds on the tip of her classical nose.
Mattie sneezed and dislodged the suds.
Finally the dishes were clean and put away, and Joe and Mattie began decorating the tree. Mattie would have dragged out all the ornaments and decorations and slapped them haphazardly on the tree, wherever it took her fancy. Joe insisted on systematic dispersal.
"First, we pop the popcorn—"
"I'm not hungry," Mattie insisted.
"Then we thread it," Joe continued, blithely ignoring her interruption. "Then we separate the ornaments according to size and color. Then we untangle the lights—"
"You should have packed them away straight the last time," Mattie told him severely, studying the tangled wires hopelessly.
Joe sighed. "1 did pack them away neatly, I swear. Someone crawled up into the attic during the year and tied them into knots."
"Right," Mattie agreed disbelievingly. "There's some little man who has a full-time job going from house to house tying knots in Christmas tree lights."
"Come on, let's get busy," Joe ordered eagerly.
Mattie popped the corn while Joe separated the ornaments. Then Joe went to rescue the popcorn while Mattie unseparated the ornaments. Mattie was determined to attack the project with the same unbridled zeal she put into her photography, and Joe could do little to stop her. He did not want to stop her, he acknowledged to himself, studying her glowing, excited face as she wrapped the strings of popcorn around the tree.
Joe tackled the top half of the tree while Mattie worked on the bottom. She broke off her industrious labor every two seconds or so to offer suggestions to him.
"No, not there," she told him at one point, tugging on the cuff of his jeans.
Joe eyed her threateningly and dropped the ornament in question on her head.
Mattie giggled and went back to her half of the tree. Joe shook his head in fond exasperation.
Finally, well after the sun had set, the decorations were finished. All the ornaments were hung, the star was crowning the tree at the proper angle, the lights were untangled and in place, and Mattie sighed with pleasure.
"It's beautiful, Joe."
Joe carefully pulled her against him, her back against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her waist.
They both studied the glimmering lights and softly reflective ornaments with satisfaction.
"I'm glad they didn't cut it down," Mattie continued pensively. "I'd like to think that something from this Christmas will live on forever."
Joe's arms tightened. "Something from this Christmas will live on forever, Mattie. And I'm not just talking about the tree."
Mattie smiled softly, thinking about his words. "Next year..."
"And the year after that..."
"Christmas is a holiday of the heart," Mattie repeated her earlier revelation almost inaudibly, with even greater understanding.
"Mattie...?"
"Can I give you your gift now?" Mattie wheedled hopefully, twisting in his arms to plead with her eyes.
Joe swallowed a little thickly at the touch of her body twisting against his and released her rather abruptly. "Sure, let's exchange presents."
"Great!" Noticing nothing amiss, Mattie turned to run upstairs to her room, where she had left Joe's present.
Joe watched her disappear from sight, sighed, then went to check on his own present to her. They met back in front of the tree within sixty seconds, both clutching a gaily wrapped package. Mattie almost knocked him down with her enthusiastic rush into the room.
"I thought you said you weren't much good at this Christmas stuff?" Joe remarked teasingly, enjoying the dancing light in her eyes, as he tried to cover up the boisterous movements of the box in his arms.
"I guess I was wrong," Mattie told him happily. "It's easy."
Joe wanted to reach out and kiss her until she was gasping for air, so instead he thrust his present at her with a distinct lack of finesse.
"Me first," he insisted. "I don't know that mine can wait too long."
Mattie reached for it hesitantly, as if receiving a present was an unfamiliar thing, then she almost dropped it as the box moved in her hands.
"My God, it's alive!" she whispered.
Joe laughed and helped her open the box, his eyes intent on her face, gauging her reaction.
Mattie peeked into the box and caught her breath as two wide friendly eyes peeped back. "Oh..." The sound was almost inaudible, the light in her eyes was bright. "Oh, Joe..." She reached in and gently grasped the puppy, easing him out of the box. He immediately let out a yapping little greeting and licked her hand enthusiastically.
"It's an English sheepdog." Joe told her hesitantly, watching carefully. "He'll grow up to be pretty big, but he'll be a wonderful friend and protector for when I'm not there."
At that, Mattie's eyes flew to his in swift fear, and Joe answered soothingly. "I mean when I'm away for a little bit, that's all. He's just another friend to care for. You have room for one more now, don't you?"
Mattie's eyes misted. "He looks just like the picture at my cottage."
Joe nodded gently. "I thought you'd like a real puppy now."
"Yes! Oh thank you, Joe. I'll take such good care of him, I promise I will." Her face was sweetly earnest.
"I know that, sweetheart." Joe's eyes were tender. "You always take good care of your friends."
"I'm going to name him Rags. That's what I used to call... the picture." She looked at him a little shamefaced, but Joe only nodded approvingly.
"It's a great name. Don't you think so, Rags? Right, boy?"
Rags let out his endearing little bark, and they both laughed.
"Now yours," Mattie murmured self-consciously, wiping one lone tear from her flushed cheek. "I hope you like it." Juggling the box in one hand and Rags in the other, she managed to pass Joe's present to him. Apparently, she wasn't willing to let go of her new friend yet.
Joe held her eyes for a moment, reading the anxiety there, before he turned his attention to opening the package. Didn't she know that she had already given him the best present he could ever hope for? No, she didn't, he thought helplessly. Because he couldn't find a way to tell her without terrifying her in the process.
Joe lifted the top off the box and pulled out the book inside. No, not a book, he realized curiously, but a photo album. Opening the cover, he saw the first picture and swallowed, raised his questioning eyes to Mattie.
"I wanted to give you something you could look at always, to remind you of this last season before you retire. I—I thought it was probably a pretty important time to you. Is it all right?"
"It's wonderful," Joe told her helplessly, deeply touched by the time and thought she had put into her present. "You took all these pictures?"
"Yes," Mattie answered softly. "At the practices and a few of the games I attended without telling you."
"This one—" Joe t
ouched the first picture reverently. "This is the first picture you took of me, that day we met."
"Yes. Just after you scored, before that man pushed you from behind. It came out pretty good, huh?"
Joe's fingers brushed against the picture softly. "Just seconds later I was lying on top of you."
Mattie didn't know what to say to that, so she quickly turned the page for him, showing him the next picture and the next. "This is from the birthday party."
"I could tell by the pointy hat," Joe remarked dryly.
"And this is when you threw that football to the little boy in the stands."
Joe studied each picture carefully. She had truly captured the essence of his last season in the NFL, and he would treasure her present forever.
"There's only one thing missing," he told her.
Mattie's eyes flew to his. "There is? What... ?"
"You," he answered simply. "There's no picture of you in here."
"But I'm not..." she began protestingly, before Joe interrupted.
"Yes, you are. You're the biggest part of this past season for me, Mattie. The best part."
Her eyes softened, and her mouth curved. "You want a picture of.. .me?"
"Is that so incredible? I don't have one, you know." Joe's voice was gentle.
"No one has ever wanted a picture of me before," she explained in a muffled tone, avoiding his eyes.
"Well, someone does now." Joe lifted her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. "Can I have one?"
Mattie searched his eyes, looking for...things she didn't understand. "I'll go get my camera," she told him finally, a smile glowing in her eyes. "You can take a picture of me with Rags, in front of the tree. Okay?"
"Okay," Joe answered, returning her smile.
She was back within seconds, tearing down the stairs with that new enthusiasm that made Joe's heart turn over. She seemed to be meeting life head on finally, eager for what she would find. Dear Lord, had he done that for her?
"Here," she interrupted his thoughts, moving in close beside him to show him how the camera operated. "This is for focus, and this is what you hit to snap the picture. I've set it for the light. Okay?"
"Got it." Joe promised, taking the camera from her. "Go stand by the tree."
Mattie moved across the room, sweeping Rags into her arms along the way, and assumed her pose by the tree.
"Should I smile?" she asked anxiously.
"Do you feel like smiling?" Joe returned.
Mattie thought about that for all of a quarter of a second. "Oh, yes. I feel like smiling."
Joe caught that expression of discovered joy with one quick click of the camera. It was a look he would hold in his heart forever.
"Now my album is complete," he told her, lowering the camera.
"Do I—" Mattie broke off and studied the floor intently. "Joe, do I really mean so much to you?"
Joe's heart twisted and he crossed to her side, gently taking Rags from her arms and lowering him to the floor. Taking her face gently in his hands, he drew her shadowed eyes to his.
"Mattie," he sighed a little roughly. "Remember that first day in the park, when you looked into my eyes?"
"Yes," she answered hesitantly.
"What did you see?"
"Loneliness."
"Yes," Joe said, nodding, his thumbs caressing her skin softly. "Loneliness. What do you see when you look into my eyes now?"
Mattie met his eyes intently, then smiled. "I see my own reflection."
Joe's mouth lifted in a half smile. "A reflection of you... in me," he restated quietly.
Mattie's eyes widened in amazement. "Joe..."
"Do you know what I see in your eyes?" he continued tenderly.
"You. You see a reflection of yourself," Mattie answered slowly. "Why didn't I see that before? Why did it take me so long to understand?"
Joe bent and pressed a tender kiss on her forehead. "Because you haven't been looking at yourself, Mattie," he told her huskily, his lips brushing her sweet skin with each word. "You haven't been looking at me."
"But—"
"You've been looking at what you used to be and what you wanted me to be. Not at what we are." Each word was carefully drawn and spoken, and Joe's body tensed as he spoke them. "Are you ready to look at yourself now, sweetheart? Are you ready to look at me?"
Mattie pulled back to meet his eyes warily. "What do you want from me?" she demanded in a strained whisper. "What do you want me to see?"
"The truth, Mattie," he told intently, his eyes fierce. "I want you to see the truth. In me and in yourself. I want you to see the need, the love—"
Mattie flinched as if to pull away, and Joe's hands tightened restrainingly.
"The love, Mattie," he repeated tautly. "If you can find it in yourself, you'll find it in me."
"How can you use that word?" she demanded, appalled.
"Love?" Joe questioned, his voice rough with pain. "Because that's what this is. It's love, Mattie. And it's good."
"No," Mattie insisted weakly. "Love is—"
"This." Joe, tired of fighting with words, brought his lips down to gently cover hers. Back and forth, soft and slow, he caressed her with only his lips. "And this." Now his arms closed to bring her against him, their bodies curving together like two halves finally united.
Mattie experienced it all with stunned disbelief. It didn't hurt, she thought dazedly. It wasn't pain she felt, but the most frightening little ache, centered somewhere that had never ached before, in a place that had known only the touch, the violation of Frank Bowers.
"No!" She shook her head in wild denial. "No, I can't! Please, don't ask that of me! Please, let me go."
Joe held her gaze for one more tense moment, then sighed and released his hold on her.
"You never wanted to be my friend, did you, Joe?" Mattie demanded painfully. "You always wanted... something else."
"You're wrong," Joe told her steadily. "I wanted to be your friend. I just never wanted to be only your friend. Do you see the difference?"
"No," Mattie answered flatly. "I don't. And I don't want to." It was the fear that made her say the words, but inside she felt as if a part of her were dying.
"It won't go away," Joe said softly, holding her eyes intently. "It won't go away just because you won't see it."
The words echoed in Mattie's mind, rolling endlessly through her fear. She left the room without answering, or looking back to see Joe press the heels of his hands against his eyes, his whole body crying of defeat and fear.
She spent hours in her room, staring bleakly at the wall as the scene played itself over and over in her mind. The only clear thing was that she had run away from Joe again. He had used the word love, and she had bolted. What was she going to do? She couldn't lose Joe, not now. He was so much a part of her, so much a part of the woman she was becoming.
A price to pay—Joe had said there was no price to pay for friendship, but he had said nothing about love. She couldn't love. Love was pain and degradation. How could he offer her that and friendship in the same breath?
Unless what he called love was really caring. Like what Cole and Jassy shared. She wanted that with Joe, wanted the warmth and the laughter and the oneness. If that was what Joe meant by love.
Nine
Joe was in bed, trying to sleep when Mattie came in.
He heard the hesitant opening of the door and the sound of her light footsteps as she crossed the room. His breath caught somewhere deep in his chest.
Why had she come?
His hands knotted into fists at his sides, evidence of the steely control he exerted, as he heard her, felt her, stop beside his bed. Should he keep pretending to be asleep? Should he ask her what the hell she thought she was doing in his room at this hour of the morning? Should he haul her beneath him and kiss her until she couldn't remember why she had come to him in the first place?
That was definitely the most appealing. Mattie, beneath him. Hungry and passionate and soft...
/> His body began to tense predictably at the mental image he had conjured up, and a shudder twisted through him.
He was about to give up the pretense and open his eyes when he felt Mattie's hand reach out to brush a lock of hair from his forehead.
"Joe..."
It was not the sound of his name, but the emotion in her voice that brought his eyes open. She had sounded—he didn't know. Sad? Peaceful? Scared?
"Mattie," Joe reached to catch her hand in his and sat up in the bed. Moonlight streamed in through the window and caught them both in its glow.
"Sweetheart? Is there something wrong?" Joe's voice was full of tender concern, and his eyes studied her face intently.
Mattie shook her head silently, unable to speak past the wave of emotion consuming her. Yes, this was right. How could she ever have doubted it? Joe was the only one who could give her what she so badly needed. He had already given her more than she could ever repay. She'd just been too scared and too blind to see it.
"Mattie... ?" Joe's hand tightened on hers. "Did you have a nightmare?"
"Yes." Mattie's voice trembled. "A lifetime of nightmares. I just woke up, Joe."
Joe was confused, wary and so hungry for her touch that he was afraid to look at her. After what had happened earlier, he was afraid to hope.
"Mattie—"
"Joe—"
They both broke off.
"Would you like to.. .go for a walk, or something?" Joe was endearingly awkward, trying to keep his eyes on her face and away from the short sheer cotton T-shirt she wore.
"Or something," Mattie agreed softly, seating herself on the bed by Joe's hips. Her hands fluttered helplessly over his bare chest. "I need to ask a big favor of you."
Joe's face softened. "Anything, Mattie. You know that."
She drew a shaky breath and closed her eyes. "I want you to... love me, Joe." Her eyes fluttered open, suspiciously bright. "I want you to make love to me."
Dead silence followed her husky plea. Joe's hands dropped from her face. He seemed even to have stopped breathing.
"What?" His voice was blank, rusty. "Mattie, I thought you said—"
"I did."
"Because of what happened earlier?" Joe's voice was harsh and cold.
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