Stranded with a Hero (Entangled Bliss)

by Karen Erickson

  The girl’s face crumpled. “Oh, but you are nice. You can’t have no presents!” She looked ready to cry before Naomi leaned over to put her arms around the girl.

  “It’s all right, sweetie. I’m sure Aaron will get at least one present.” She grimaced at him over the girl’s red curls. “He’s just being silly. Okay?”

  Chloe sniffed. “’kay.” She broke free of Naomi and patted Aaron’s hand. “Don’t worry. My parents will get you a present if Santa doesn’t bring you one.”

  Fortunately, at that moment Tyler arrived to put her daughter to bed, putting an end to the tricky questions. Aaron sighed and stretched out on the carpet, but Naomi was still glimmering at him with narrowed eyes.

  “What?” He lifted his shoulders.

  “You don’t deserve any presents after worrying that poor girl for nothing.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t usually get asked these difficult questions.” He gave her a disarming smile.

  “You have two nieces, don’t you? How old are they?”

  “Seven and five. But I leave all the hard stuff to their mom and dad. Personally, I think parents do a disservice to their children by not telling them the truth about Santa.”

  Aaron expected her to fume at him for such heresy, but instead she shook her head sorrowfully. “I’m not surprised you think that, given your whole antipathy against Christmas.”

  He picked up a small red bauble and rolled it in the palm of his hand. “But don’t you think Chloe will be devastated when she learns that Santa isn’t real? Weren’t you upset when you found out?”

  “Not really. I figured it out for myself when I was about eight. I don’t remember being traumatized. I simply thought it was a bit of fun, like the fairy tales my mum used to read me. They were fascinating, but I knew they weren’t real.” She leaned forward, resting her hands on the carpet. “Why, were you disappointed when you found out?”

  Disappointed wasn’t the right word. He’d been five when he’d suspected a connection between the toys at the store and the gifts that appeared beneath the Christmas tree each year. Disquieted, he’d asked his mom straight out if she and Dad were responsible for the gifts and not Santa. Sadness had clouded her eyes as she’d sworn it was Santa for the sake of his sister who—bless her—was vehement in her belief. At that moment, Aaron had realized two things: Santa didn’t exist, which crushed him, but, more importantly, he’d made his mom sad because he’d stopped believing. He’d shattered her Christmas illusions of childhood innocence.

  Sensing he’d let her down, he’d pretended to believe her, had desperately gone along with the whole charade for the sake of his mom and sister. That was the first year he’d felt a disconnect between him and Christmas, and the unease was repeated each year as he acted out the pantomime of believing in Santa though he knew his mom knew otherwise. Christmas became a time of keeping up appearances for the sake of his family instead of enjoyment. And when Donna had finally cottoned onto the truth and realized he’d known all along, she’d been more upset with him for keeping her in the dark than giving up her Santa dream. He couldn’t win either way.

  “Not as disappointed as my mom,” Aaron said. “She wasn’t prepared for me not believing in Santa. I ruined that Christmas for her.” He scratched his chin. “My poor mom. That wasn’t the only time I ruined her Christmas.”

  “Oh?” Naomi glanced at him. “What else happened?”

  “When I was about fifteen, I was going through a phase, being a difficult, know-it-all teenager. For no particular reason, I decided I was a vegetarian. Refused to eat my mom’s Thanksgiving turkey. She was much too nice to me, even made me a tofu turkey roast. But then, come Christmas, her cousins from Iowa were visiting, and Cousin Moira brought a special, aged ham and kept going on at me about ‘silly fads’ and to ‘just try a bite.’ Well, I never liked her, and I was a smartass teenager, so I gave her some lip. A lot of lip. I don’t want to tell you what I called her.” Aaron sighed, kneading the bauble in his hand. “My folks were mortified, especially Mom. When I saw her all red, her chin trembling, not knowing what to say, I felt so ashamed of myself.”

  Naomi made a sympathetic clucking sound. “What did you do?”

  “What else could I do? I apologized to Cousin Moira and ate her fricking ham, of course. And afterward, everyone pretended nothing had happened.” But word had got out, like it always did, and his mom’s friends had sympathized with her, which had made him feel even more guilty and different.

  “I get it now why Christmas isn’t your favorite time of year,” Naomi said. “But if it’s any consolation, I believe your mother wouldn’t be disappointed with you this year.”

  “What?” His head jerked up. “This year I’m the biggest letdown. I’m not even showing up.”

  “Yes, but look what you’ve done here. You came with me to get a Christmas tree, you’ve helped decorate it, you’ve bought gifts, and you’ve helped customers in the store buy their gifts. You’ve even gone to carol singing. I think your mother would be happy, even though she must miss you terribly.”

  The tender warmth in her voice brought a sudden lump to his throat. He missed his mom, he realized. Missed his dad, his sister, and brother-in-law and nieces. He missed his parents’ cluttered house, the groaning table, the chunky holiday sweaters, the incessant carols on the radio, the cold, narrow bed in his old bedroom. He missed the freezing snow, the slow-as-molasses traffic, the winter darkness. He missed Christmas in Mecklenburg.

  The red bauble tumbled from his palm and rolled on the carpet.

  “Hey.” Naomi scooted closer on her bottom to his side. Her hand brushed tentatively over his. “I know how hard it is being away from your family at Christmas,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes were liquid blue with compassion, and her hand was light on his. The humming attraction he always felt in her presence magnified, but though he badly wanted to cup her face and kiss her, more than anything else he wanted to savor her empathy. Somehow this woman, whom he’d known for less than a week, knew more about him than any of his previous girlfriends or lovers. Knew him better than himself, even.

  He clasped her chin, gently tipping her face up to him. Appeal flickered through her vivid blue eyes as her breathing quickened and her lips opened a little. She wanted him to kiss her, he saw, despite her protestations yesterday. And it seemed the perfect time to kiss her. The family room was quiet and dim, the winking tree lights bathing them in an ethereal glow. The air was warm with the scent of pine and cookies.

  But though the need to taste her lips hurt him, he held back on his craving. He didn’t want a mere kiss from Naomi. He wanted more—much more. As the thought struck him, alarm burst over him like a sharp snowstorm. He sucked in a breath, instinctively bracing himself. More from Naomi? How could he want more from her? And what exactly did “more” mean?

  He dropped his hand away from her. Confusion clotted his brain.

  “What’s wrong?” Naomi asked, bewilderment vibrating in her tone.

  He was scowling, he realized, and try as he might, he couldn’t stop scowling. “Nothing.” He shook his head, but the inner turmoil continued to shred his mind.

  Nothing. That’s precisely what he’d expected after each of his sexual encounters over the years, and that was exactly what he’d gotten. Nothing expected, and nothing received. But now he saw that nothing wouldn’t cut it anymore. Brief, anonymous sex had suited him for a while, but that phase of his life was over, for good. He wanted something. Something more, something substantial.

  Naomi rose to her feet, dusting her hands, a small frown wrinkling her brow. “Fine. Whatever.”

  Aaron got to his feet quickly. She thought he’d rebuffed her. She thought he didn’t want to kiss her. Damn, she was so mistaken about that, but he was still coming to terms with his sudden epiphany. And besides, he couldn’t forget she was still vulnerable after her breakup. This wasn’t the time for blurting out things.

  “I’m glad I’m spendin
g Christmas with you,” he said.

  “Are you?” Suspicion pinched her features.

  “Yes.” He rifled his fingers through his hair. “If I had to be stranded at Christmas anywhere in the world, I’d choose to be here.”

  Her expression cleared. “I hope you’ll still think that when my entire family invades this house tomorrow.”

  He managed to smile at her. “Bring it on, honey. I can’t wait.”

  Chapter Six

  A thick summer haze hung in the air. The wooden boards of the outdoor deck warmed the soles of Aaron’s bare feet as he pushed his seat back from the table, which was littered with the remains of Christmas lunch. Luke’s four elder sisters, their husbands, and children had arrived en masse at eleven o’clock like a tornado, instantly engulfing the house in noise and activity. Aaron had quickly given up trying to memorize everyone’s names and simply stood back in awe. But he wasn’t allowed to remain on the fringes. The family swept him up in their whirlwind and plunged him into their Christmas madness.

  At least he hadn’t had to eat roast turkey with stuffing on such a hot day. Instead, he’d been plied with honey-glazed ham, spicy shrimp, baked salmon, and barbecued pork loin. Christmas lunch had been long and noisy, filled with chatter and laughter and good-natured ribbing. Now, the kids and teenagers were on the lawn playing that weird game called cricket, while Luke’s sisters and their husbands were cleaning up in the kitchen. Aaron had attempted to pitch in with the dirty dishes, but had been quickly shooed away.

  As Aaron leaned back in his chair, Luke walked up with a fresh jug of iced water. “Thought you could do with a refill.” He topped up their glasses before sitting next to him.

  “Thanks.” Aaron swallowed a deep gulp of blessedly cold water.

  “You holding up okay?”

  “Sure.” Aaron wiped condensation from his glass and licked his fingers. “Your sisters aren’t half as formidable as you make out.”

  Luke rested an elbow on one crossed knee. “I didn’t mean my sisters. I mean this whole Christmas-in-a-foreign-country thing.”

  Aaron looked up. “You seem worried. Have I been a downer the whole day?” He’d thought he’d coped well, putting on a convivial mask for the occasion. He’d eaten, drunk, talked. He’d been doing it every Christmas for years, hadn’t he? He’d fooled his family, who knew him best, so convincing a bunch of strangers should have been a piece of cake.

  “Not a downer, no.” Scratching his chin, Luke eyed him speculatively in a way that made Aaron uncomfortable. He’d forgotten Luke’s writerly instinct for burrowing beneath the obvious. “But you’ve been antsy ever since your flight was canceled. I know you don’t enjoy Christmas, but I’m wondering if, now you’re not there, you actually miss spending the day with your family in your hometown.”

  Of all Aaron’s friends, none were as perceptive as Luke, and only he would think nothing of asking difficult questions. It was one of the traits that Aaron had always appreciated in his friend, but now he felt like a hapless insect squirming under a microscope.

  He glanced at the barefoot youngsters playing in the sun-soaked garden, then through the glass sliding doors of the house to the kitchen where Luke’s family milled about. He could see Naomi right in the midst, chatting animatedly to Helen, her mother. Naomi had been in seventh heaven all day, ever since Chloe had woken them up with the gleeful news that Santa had visited and there were presents for everyone. They’d gone to church before the rest of Luke’s family drove in from Goulburn. When Helen, Luke’s eldest sister, had arrived, Naomi had hugged her as if they hadn’t seen each other for months. Face glowing, Naomi had taken it upon herself to introduce him to every member of her family. She’d hovered near him throughout the meal, offering him food and drink, including him in her conversations. She’d tried to make his Christmas as pleasant as possible, and in the process reminded him of everything he’d taken for granted.

  Now, Luke had put his feelings into words, and he couldn’t lie to his friend. “Yeah, I miss Christmas in Mecklenburg.” Aaron rubbed his damp forehead. “Every year I grin and bear it and rush off as soon as I can, but now I miss every darn, stupid moment. Ironic justice, I guess.”

  He picked up the remains of a Christmas cracker. Before the meal everyone had crossed arms and held a Christmas cracker with each neighbor. Then they had pulled on the crackers, and the decorated cardboard tubes had popped with a light explosion, revealing paper hats, plastic trinkets, and small rolls of paper printed with jokes. “My mother would love these, and she’d be amazed to see me wearing this.” He pointed at the green paper hat on his head. Without exception, everyone at the table had donned their hats, so Aaron had followed suit. “I feel like I’ve been a colossal fool for so long,” he said. “Like I’ve wasted so many years trying to avoid Christmas.”

  Luke shook his head. “Don’t feel like that. You probably had valid reasons for not liking Christmas, but now you’ve changed. Happens to all of us, mate. Look at me. When you first met me at Columbia, you’d never have thought I’d end up here, would you?” He spread his arms wide to encompass his present life “Yet I couldn’t be happier. This is what I want, what I need.”

  Aaron kneaded the tight spot in his chest. And what did he want and need? He wasn’t quite sure, but he knew what he didn’t want. He didn’t want to return home and pick up his old life as if nothing had happened. And that included his workaholic lifestyle.

  The thought rocked him back. If there had been one constant in his life, it was his career. He loved his job, not for the bucketloads of money it earned him, but because he enjoyed the challenge, the stimulus, the creativity. His career was something he controlled, something that had filled his life and rewarded him for years, but now suddenly it wasn’t the be-all and end-all of his existence. He still loved his job, but he didn’t want it to dominate his life anymore.

  He glanced at Luke, envying him his peace. But nirvana hadn’t fallen into Luke’s lap. His friend had had to struggle and overcome his personal demons before he’d found happiness with Tyler and Chloe.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to depress you,” Luke said, watching him with shrewd eyes.

  Aaron forced a casual grin. “You didn’t. Just gave me food for thought.”

  Luke’s focus switched to Chloe as the girl, clutching a cricket bat, called to Luke for help. “Sorry, mate, the moppet needs me.”

  Aaron waved him off. As he finished his glass of water, a shadow fell over him, and the faint trill of his nerves told him who it was without having to turn around.

  Naomi set a plate on the table and took the seat Luke had vacated. As her arm brushed briefly against his, warmth rolled over him. He smiled at her, glad she was here. He didn’t want to brood over his life. Far easier and more pleasant to enjoy Naomi’s company.

  She nudged the plate toward him, her smile tentative. “I made these for you.”

  He examined the pile of ocher-colored cubes sprinkled with brown sugar. “What are they?”

  “Pumpkin marshmallows. I Googled the recipe last night and made them this morning.” She pushed her hands under her legs and rocked back and forth as a smile hovered on her lips. “You didn’t notice me making them, did you? I wanted to surprise you.”

  He stared at her. “You did all that? Just because I mentioned my mom made pumpkin marshmallows every Christmas?” He didn’t know what to say. All he knew was that he wanted to pull her onto his lap and kiss her. Instead, he chose a cube, bit into it, and slowly chewed.

  “Well? Is it any good?” Naomi studied him with an eager air. “I’m sure I can’t compete with your mother’s, but I hope it’s all right.”

  His mom wouldn’t have recognized this lump of pulp as a pumpkin marshmallow, but he swallowed manfully and smacked his lips. “It’s delicious. Fantastic.”

  “Fantastic? Oh, now I know you’re humoring me.”

  “No, really, they are fantastic. Not as great as my mom’s, of course, but fantastic, nevertheless.” To prove it
, he took another pumpkin marshmallow and stuffed it into his mouth.

  They were fantastic, he thought. Stringy and mushy, sure, but awesome because Naomi had made them especially for him.

  “And those kangaroo cufflinks? They’re fantastic, too. I’ll definitely be wearing them to the office.”

  Her cheeks went pink. “Goodo. Glad you like them.”

  She picked up one of the jokes from the Christmas crackers and read out, “Why did the chewing gum cross the road?” She paused before continuing, “Because it was stuck to the chicken!” Groaning with laughter, she chose another slip of paper. “Where do frogs go if they have bad eyesight? To the hoptometrist!”

  Aaron gulped down his mouthful of pumpkin marshmallow. “Are all Christmas cracker jokes that lame?”

  “Of course. The lamer the better.”

  He reached for a third pumpkin marshmallow. “Read me another one.”

  “Okay then.” As she unfurled another roll of paper, she picked up a pumpkin marshmallow for herself and bit into it. “Who hides in the bakery at Christmas—oh boy, these things weren’t so claggy this morning. They taste like glue.” She wrinkled her nose at her half-eaten square, then shook her head at him. “You don’t have to force them down just to be polite.”

  “I honestly like them,” he said around his mouthful. In a strange way, Naomi’s pumpkin marshmallows were growing on him. He waved at her. “Go on. Tell me who hides in the bakery at Christmas.”

  She rolled her eyes. “A mince spy.”

  For some reason Aaron found that hilarious. His shoulders shook with laughter, and when she chuckled too, he snickered even louder. He might be stuck thousands of miles away from home on Christmas Day, marooned in sweltering, unfamiliar surroundings, but listening to Naomi’s lame jokes and eating her less-than-perfect pumpkin marshmallows was—paradoxically—the best experience of his life.