She was as thin as ever, but now she showed the signs of early womanhood. Awkward, but not all together unattractive.
"I'm not going to stay," he said. “The dorms said I could come back early. Because of…the circumstances.”
"Don’t be ridiculous. You should stay. Mom and Dad would want you to." She walked toward him and after setting the quilt at his feet, she plopped down beside him on the couch, her lips scrunching up for a moment before she took another stab at speech.
All the while, he hadn't looked at her. He'd only stared at the tree, swirling his whiskey over and over again.
"What does that stuff taste like?" she asked, and then pointed to the glass.
He blinked, as if he'd only just noticed she was there. "Want to try it?"
He held it out and she took it. After one sip, her nose crinkled and then she shook her head and groaned. "Ugh, you tricked me."
He shrugged. "You wanted to know."
"Yes, well, next time you can just tell me it tastes like hot poison. I promise I'll believe you."
A ghost of a smile crossed his face, but then the hard lines of sadness set in again.
"I really, um, like the sweater you got me." She gripped her sleeves and he noticed that she was wearing it already, the pale pink cashmere a perfect match for her peachy complexion.
"I'm glad." He nodded, and then the painful silence fell over them again.
With another scrunch of her lips, Caroline pushed off the sofa, reached under the tree, and then returned with a rectangular golden gift in her hand. "I forgot to give you yours earlier. Well, I didn't so much forget as I wanted to give it to you when we could talk about it."
She foisted it toward him without looking him in the eye, and he tore it open with one quick motion. On his lap lay a leather-bound photo album with the word "family" emblazoned on the cover. He flipped through the pages, studying photo after photo of himself with the Marleys. Summer barbeques where Mr. Marley had taught him how to use a grill. Fall football practices with Jake. Hanging out on the front porch with Mrs. Marley and Caroline. And then, at the end, a picture of him and his mother, standing around the piano at the annual Christmas party.
His mouth tightened, and Caroline spoke again. "I know it's been a hard year, but I just thought...well, maybe it's stupid, but I just thought it might help to have a reminder that even if your parents can't be with you, you still have a family who..." She glanced at him for a moment, her cheeks turning as pink as her sweater, and then finished, "who loves you."
He swallowed hard. "Thank you."
She nodded. "Anytime. Now stay. Don't be stupid."
He smiled up at her and then unfolded the quilt at his feet.
"You're a good kid, you know that?" he asked.
She blinked, and the tiny smile on her lips fell. "Yeah. Thanks."
She walked toward the kitchen again, but when she reached the doorway, she turned and added, "Merry Christmas, Eric."
The room reeled around him again and he reached out to Jake.
"Wait, wait. Didn't I say anything else? I must have—"
But it was too late. They were gone, and instead of returning to the Marleys' house, they were somewhere else entirely, and again he knew all too well what was about to happen.
They were in the office as it had been before Mr. Marley’s retirement. Christmas songs thrummed from a radio in the corner of the conference room, red and green streamers hung from the tacky florescent light fixtures, and all around people were chatting about this and that while swigging from red cups.
"The company Christmas party. But..." He glanced at Jake, his heart rate already doubling its speed. "I didn't want you to—"
"Shhh." Jake shook his head. "We're about to get to the good part."
He pointed toward the far end of the conference room where Eric spotted himself as he had looked two years before. He wore a suit not quite so nice as the one he wore now, but it was passable.
On either side of him stood Jake and his father. The three of them were laughing about something, but Eric didn't get to them in time to hear what they'd been discussing.
“She’s got a countdown going, you know. She can’t wait until I’m home for good—she crosses off every day, one by one, until you boys take my place.” Mr. Marley belly laughed, then patted Eric on the shoulder.
"Where is Mom?" Jake glanced around the party. "She's never late."
Mr. Marley shook his head. "She went to pick up your sister, but her train was delayed. Snow."
"How is Caroline liking school?" Eric asked.
"Well enough. I think. Certainly better than her freshman year."
"That's good to hear. I was starting to worry. She called me almost every other day," Eric said.
Jake raised his eyebrows, and then took a swig of his drink.
"Well, would you speak of the devil?" Mr. Marley nodded toward the door and his wife shuffled through, spots of snow highlighting the streaks of grey in her light blond hair.
Then Eric's breath caught.
Even now, two years later, he was shocked by the transformation.
Behind Mrs. Marley was a girl—no, not a girl, a woman—so beautiful that he could hardly look anywhere else. He felt like one of those cartoon characters with his jaw on the floor and his eyes bulging out of his head. Like he’d been magnetized to the spot where she stood and he was powerless to do anything but gape and yearn to get closer.
He likely felt the same then as he did now—guilty, but nevertheless compelled. Because his best friend’s little sister—the girl he’d grown up with—had grown into the most gorgeous person on the planet.
The familiar sprigs of holly were fixed in her hair, but even that looked different. She'd added blunt bangs and her hair looked glossier, fuller. When she shook the snow from her strands, she looked like she was posing for a picture.
But when she took off her coat? That was when he was a real goner.
Beneath her plain black pea coat was a slinky red number he'd never seen before and Jesus...
Her breasts were full, her waist lean, and if he could just get a look at her backside—
He remembered every thought distinctly, painfully. They were still the thoughts he had when he was around her. Except now he had more lustful memories to add to the mix.
All because of this night.
After the initial pleasantries, he’d made a point of getting as far away from her as humanly possible. For a while he'd danced around her, biding his time by talking to Mr. and Mrs. Marley, Jake, and any of his other fellow employees. Anyone to distract himself from Caroline’s all-too-alluring presence.
All the while, though, he’d catch himself staring at her at random moments. Sometimes she’d catch him, too, and when she stepped toward him, he darted away again. Watching himself, Eric felt the pain, the panic all over again and, silly as it was, he caught himself wondering if Ghost-Jake knew what was going on.
If he’d been caught red handed.
It was the deepest, darkest secret of his life, and here he was, inching closer and closer to the climax. The party started to peter out, her parents went home, and Jake slipped away with one of the assistants. Eric was ready to breathe a sigh of relief when Caroline suddenly cornered him, and his heart—then and now—nearly burst from his chest.
"Are you avoiding me?" she asked.
He stared at her hair for a moment, trying to evade her penetrating blue gaze, but then said, "No, what, are you crazy?"
"Maybe, but all I know is that it's been hours and you've barely said hello."
"Well, hello." He glanced at her cup, then instantly regretted it when he caught a glimpse down her dress.
The bra beneath the fabric was just as red as her dress, though it was considerably lacier. And, if he saw it right, it was also see-through. He remembered the way his groin had twitched at the sight of it, and he shuffled backward a few steps, and then pointed to the cup.
"What do you have there?"
"P
inot. Admittedly, it's not very good, but…" She shrugged.
"Since when did you drink? Are you even allowed?"
She laughed. "I'll be 21 in two months. You know that."
"Doesn't mean you're 21 now."
"Like you waited until the stroke of midnight." She cocked an eyebrow and he relented, raising his hands in front of him.
"All right, all right. Just don't let your brother know I let you get away with it."
She rolled her eyes. "When will you stop acting like I'm twelve?"
He swallowed hard, and his thoughts were practically written across his face:
Believe me, I wish you still looked twelve.
Still, he said, "I'm your brother's best friend. I'm supposed to look out for you."
She took another step toward him. "No, that's his job. Your only job is to be my friend."
"Right. Well, as my friend, keep it from your brother, would you?"
"Whatever you say," she said. She scrunched her mouth to the side again.
How had he never noticed the way she did that? Or how cute it made her look?
She glanced around the room. "Looks like the party's dead. We ran out of booze and my cup is almost empty. You have any in your office?"
"Only champagne for big deals."
"Christmas is a big deal," she sing-songed.
"You want to drink company champagne?"
"No, I want to drink champagne. It's just a coincidence that it belongs to the company." She wiggled the cup between her fingers. "Come on. To your health."
"Fine, fine." He led her into his office, which was just beside her father's.
"Swanky. A little impersonal, though, don't you think?" She glanced around at his bare walls. There wasn't anything but the phone and computer on his desk.
"Keeps me focused." He pulled the bottle from his bottom drawer along with two flutes. "Now, we can drink company champagne, but I draw the line at drinking it from red cups. You may still be in college, but I'm not."
"Actually, I'm graduating early. I'll only be going for another year."
"Why?"
"It's not really my style. I'd rather be working and home. Around the family. You know, with Jake.” There was a pause, and then she added, “And you."
His younger self poured the champagne, but his reality stared back at Jake. He couldn’t bear the suspense any longer. "Did you know about this?"
Jake didn't answer.
His younger self handed a glass to Caroline, and she clicked it against his own. "To another Christmas together."
"Cheers," he countered, and then swallowed the flute’s contents in one gulp.
In the dim light of his office, she looked even better than before. The sweet pink flush on her cheeks brought out the blue of her eyes, and when she sat on the corner of his desk, he caught a glimpse of her creamy white inner thigh.
"Can I talk to you?" she asked.
"Say no," he told his past self, though he knew it wouldn't change a damn thing.
"Of course," he said. Like the idiot he was.
She sipped her drink, and then set it on the desk beside her. "What's your type?"
"You have guy trouble?"
"Maybe. But I asked about you."
"Um, okay. Well, I like girls who are funny. And smart. Pretty, too."
She considered him for a moment, took another sip. "All right, so suppose you met someone who you thought was hilarious, beautiful, and interesting, but you didn't think they'd go for you. What would you do?"
"I'd try anyway."
"Even if you thought it might ruin something? Or change something?"
He knew what she was getting at. He couldn’t deny it now, any more than he’d been able to that night. He tried to convince himself he didn’t know why he’d said it. At one time, he was even dumb enough to try to think he didn’t know who she meant. When it stared at him blow for blow, though, there was no denying it. He’d goaded her because he wanted it—wanted her—just as much—maybe even more—than she wanted him.
So, when the answer slipped from his lips, he closed his eyes and awaited the inevitable. "Wouldn't it still be better to not have to wonder if something could happen?"
She stared at him, and then rolled to her feet. "I guess."
The pink on her cheeks became a full-blown red and then she bounded toward him, grabbed both sides of his face, and pulled him into a kiss.
He remembered knowing that he should push her away, that he should have pounced on the opportunity to clarify, to set things right. But he wouldn’t. More than that, he couldn’t. As soon as his lips met hers, it was as if something that had been buried deep, deep inside him had unearthed itself, and he could never un-see it again.
Slowly, his arms wound around her, crushing her to his chest, pulling her into the kiss even more. He cupped her neck, mussing the holly in her hair, but he was far too lost in her to care. She was too sweet, too warm, too right.
He rolled his tongue over her bottom lip, and then pushed her back against the desk, grinding himself against her pliable, soft skin. Watching, he could remember every little sensation. The thrill that had gone through him when she jumped onto that desk and opened her legs just wide enough for him to stand between them, take her in his arms, and kiss her until they both forgot how wrong it was.
How, in a single moment of recklessness, he could lose everything—his best friend, his job, his family—all for this one moment of dark surrender.
"Pull it together," his present self choked out, but it was no use. He was nipping at her earlobe, savoring every tiny, shaking breath she took. He was on the verge of sliding his hands lower, cupping her breasts, pulling aside those tiny, tempting panties.
“Stop,” he was nearly begging himself, but the damage was done. When he finally pushed Caroline away, they were both panting, their eyes hooded by heavy lids.
"Eric,” she breathed, “I've always wanted—"
"We can't. What about Jake?" He was speaking quickly, and even now he knew why. He had to get it out before the tide pulled him under again. Before he forgot how to say it—or why.
Caroline’s brow knitted together. "What about him? He's a grown man."
"Your father—"
"Will be thrilled." She reached out to touch him, but he stepped away from her reach. Her rosy cheeks paled, and then she slowly pulled her knees together and hopped from the desk as he went on.
"It's a bad idea. A mistake. I shouldn't have—"
"Eric, please. Don't you...don't you want to be with me?" Her voice was so small, so timid.
Now, seeing it over again, he wanted to cup her cheek, to kiss that tremor of pain away. He saw the urge in his old self, too. But he knew now just as he’d known then that he couldn’t. She was his apple in the Garden of Eden. If he plucked her from the branch, his whole life would crumble around him.
No matter how tempting she was.
"Of course I want to be with you,” his younger self said. “You're beautiful and smart and..."
"Funny?" she finished, but there was a note of defeat in her voice that hadn’t been there before.
"You can't do this to me. You know this isn't right."
"But I asked you—"
"Tricked me, more like.” His voice was like a slap, sharp and stinging. “Now we have to stop. I can’t. I mean, we can’t—If it didn’t work, I’d lose everything. Jake and your parents, they’d hate me. We have to forget this ever happened. It never happened, okay?"
"No," she whispered, and then louder, "it happened. This was real and it's not enough. I've waited for you for so long. I don't want to wait anymore."
He didn’t either. He didn’t want to walk away, and even now he felt the sting of saying no to her. But what choice did he have? He only had one second chance at a family. If he lost that…
"Then don't wait.” His voice was icy. “Put it out of your head because it's never going to happen."
He waited for her reply, but instead everything spun and he wa
s once again flooded in light.
3
He was panting as if he'd just run a race, and yet when he tried to move, it was like he'd been lying in his chair all night. His limbs were tight and stiff, his neck ached, and still his heart was racing.
What the hell had just happened?
Jake knew about that night with Caroline? He knew—
But no, Jake didn't know anything. That person had been a ghost or a figment or something.
What was he saying? It hadn’t been any of that. It had been a dream. Everything.
Eric glanced at the photo on his desk, taken only minutes before he and Caroline had left the office that night. They all had looked so happy. So normal.
He shook his head. He couldn't let something as stupid as a dream get the better of him. Hell, for all he knew someone in the office had left the radio on and some Christmas story worked its way into his thoughts.
That was much more likely than ghosts or shadows or whatever Jake had called himself.
He gripped the edge of his desk and eased his way to standing. Maybe he'd just check the cubicles for that radio or TV or whatever. Not that he was concerned, but he certainly wasn't about to fall back into that loony trap if he happened to doze off a second time.
He trudged toward the door, turned the knob, and then-—
Bright light flooded the room again, and he shielded his eyes with one arm while slamming the door with the other.
"What the—?" He leaned against the back of the entry, panting again.
He was going crazy. Absolutely bonkers.
"You're okay, I promise." A willowy feminine voice sounded from across the room, and then she was there. Sitting at his desk, holly pinned in her hair.
Caroline.
She crossed one leg over the other, and then placed her folded hands in her lap.
"I—" Eric spluttered, then stopped. "You..."
"I’m the ghost of Christmas present." She nodded.
He might have given it up as some elaborate prank, but after everything Jake had showed him...
No, there was no pretending anymore. This was real. He had to give in.
Home for the Holidays: A Contemporary Romance Anthology Page 14