by Webb, Peggy
“I guess not, seeing as how you’ve already made up your mind that he’s like the two sorry so-and-sos you almost married. He seems mighty different to me, but who am I to judge? I’m just an uneducated woman been married to the same good man for forty years. No need to ask a woman like me about love. Hmmm- hmmm. Nosirree.”
Holly threw the last of the paper plates into the garbage, then untied her apron and pulled off her rubber gloves. As she stashed them in a drawer her shoulders drooped.
“Come here, honey.” Loweva put her arms around Holly and swayed in a gentle rocking rhythm. “Sometimes old Loweva’s bad to the bone. You don’t have to have no man to make you feel good about yourself. You got me. I’m ugly and mean, but it’s all right by me if you don’t want nothing else.”
“I’m scared,” Holly said, her voice muffled against Loweva’s ample shoulder. “It’s not because of the way he looks and the way I look. That’s just an excuse.”
Loweva patted her shoulders. “Hush now. It’s Christmas Eve. I’m sorry I started all this talk.”
Holly lifted her head and looked into Loweva’s kind face.
“I’m in love with him, and I’m scared that he won’t love me back. Loweva, what if he won’t love me back?”
Chapter 17
Ben was not accustomed to failure. The fact that Holly turned down his invitation stung. In Washington, everything had come with ease—lobbying, making money, socializing both for business and pleasure.
Alone on the farm with his naked tree, he felt foolish. And lonely.
He was glad that Hines had a family to go home to every Christmas, but in the past Ben had been in a big city where any number of people and parties were only a cab drive away. He had never had to endure Christmas in the wilderness, as Hines called it. Now Ben knew why. He had never felt such absolute stillness, heard such absolute silence. The house echoed with it.
And the tree...
Hines had meant well. He had meant to bring a homey touch to Ben’s Christmas, but the opposite was true. The tree reminded Ben of all the things he had never had—pictures of the family opening gifts together and posing around the tree and sledding in the snow; ornaments that would be passed on from generation to generation, some made of tacky construction paper at school, others created in the kitchen with saltwater dough and children’s paints and lots of love.
He didn’t have any ornaments, let alone the kind that would be treasured by kids and grandkids. Not that he was close to having any. At the rate he was going, he would be a bachelor the rest of his life. But not by choice. No longer by choice.
The bare branches of the tree looked pathetic, and the Christmas CD he’d put on the player sounded mournful. Ben switched it off. No use setting the stage for Christmas cheer. No use setting the stage for anything. It was after eleven. Holly was not coming.
Tomorrow he would take the tree back into the woods and replant it. Or he might just throw it out the door. Why bother trying to change his ways?
Without a backward glance at the tree, he strode to his desk. It was there, his Christmas gift to Holly. He was glad now that he hadn’t wrapped it and put it under the tree. Bad enough that he had to see it every time he opened the drawer. Under the tree, wrapped in silver and tied with a red ribbon, it would have been torture.
He was closing the desk drawer when he heard the car. His hand froze. Fighting the temptation to look out the window, he sat down in one of the leather wing chairs and waited.
No use getting excited. It could be a traveler with car trouble, looking for a phone and jumper cables.
The knock was soft, tentative. He could see her silhouette through the glass in the door. Her hair was loose, the way he liked it. The glow from the bulb gave her a halo.
“I hope it’s not too late,” she said when he opened the door.
“No, of course not. Come in.”
He stood back and held the door open for her. His heart was hammering so hard, he could hardly speak.
“I guess I should have called first.”
He gave a negative shake of his head. What to say? What to do? He felt foolish and awkward. If this was what caring deeply for another person felt like all the time, he wasn’t sure he wanted to care.
“I was afraid if I called, you would have changed your mind, and then I thought that I might change mine, and so I waited until after Lily and I had dinner and opened our gifts and she was in bed....”
Holly’s nervous monologue came to a sudden halt. She lifted her gaze to his, and he wanted to take her in his arms right then and forget about the tree, forget about the courtship, forget about saying and doing the proper thing. He wanted her. It was that simple—and that scary.
Holly must have read his thoughts. She drew a sharp breath and reached up to fiddle with a lock of her hair.
“What if she wakes up? I left her a note, but she might wake up and not see it, and then she would panic and maybe fall and hurt herself....” Holly turned toward the door. “I have to go back.”
“Holly...” He didn’t reach out and hold her back. If she stayed, it had to be of her own free will. “Don’t go.”
She was slow turning back to him, and when she did, her eyes were so warm and wide and blue, he thought he knew what heaven must look like.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because Birmingham meant something to me.”
She regarded him solemnly for so long he was afraid he had said the wrong thing, afraid he had scared her off. What would he do if she turned away from him? After waiting so long to find her, losing her would be unbearable.
“Do you really mean that?” she said.
“Yes.”
“When you didn’t call, I didn’t know what to think.”
“I had some business matters to take care of.” And then, because she looked uncertain, he offered more explanation. “I focus on one thing at a time, Holly. When it’s business, I’m all business.” He shrugged, smiling. “I guess that has always been my focus... until now.”
“I was so afraid to come here tonight.”
“Why?”
“I’m afraid of caring too much. I’m afraid of being disposable. I can’t bear it if you think of me as disposable.”
“You are many things, Holly. Disposable is not one of them.” She still stood apart from him, wearing her coat, as if she might flee at any minute.
He had the perfect opening to say all the things on his heart. I love you. Only three words. Why couldn’t he say them?
“Let me take your coat,” he said, and then without waiting for her reply he slid it off her shoulders and hung it in his closet.
So, he was a coward. But after all, he was new at this. He needed more time, that was all.
Her coat smelled faintly of orange blossoms. He resisted the urge to bury his face in the soft wool. Instead he caressed the collar as he hung it up. It looked good hanging next to his blue windbreaker and his tweed topcoat. He shoved the hangers close enough so that their coats were touching.
“Is that the tree?” Holly said, rubbing her arms.
“Are you cold? I can add another log to the fire.”
“That would be nice.”
He was reluctant to leave her, even for a moment. As soon as he was out of sight, he sprinted. Across the back porch, out the door, to the woodpile, then back again. In the kitchen he slowed down to catch his breath.
What would Hines say if he could see Ben now? He chuckled, thinking about it. He was still grinning when he joined Holly in the den.
“What’s funny?” she said, smiling back at him.
“Life.”
“I noticed you dug the tree instead of chopping it down,” she said.
“I’ll replant it after Christmas.”
“I’m glad.”
It had been Hines’s idea, but Ben took the credit. He needed all the points with Holly he could get, and besides, Hines would approve. Ben would tell him about it tomorrow when he called.
Ben squatted beside the
fireplace, then arranged the wood and tended it until the fresh logs caught and cast their warmth through the room. Holly came to stand beside the blaze, her skirt swishing in a manner uniquely feminine and extremely sensual.
He stood beside her, her skirt brushing his leg, her shoulder touching his. It was a cozy intimacy enhanced by the glow of the fire. It was the kind of intimacy that invited touching. Ben reached for Holly’s hand.
“I’m really glad you came.”
“I can’t stay long,” she said, “just long enough to help you decorate the tree. I suppose you have balls.”
“Yes, but I don’t plan to hang them on a tree.”
A lively pink colored her cheeks, but she chuckled. That was one of the things he enjoyed about Holly—her ability to laugh at herself.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I couldn’t resist.”
“That’s okay. They say laughter is the best medicine.”
“For what?”
“Everything, I guess.”
He turned her hand over and studied the palm, and then because it was soft and pink and vulnerable looking, he bent over and kissed it. The shiver that ran through her made him feel like a hero. Such a simple thing, that kiss. And yet Holly’s reaction told him that she felt the sparks too.
What had she said to him earlier? I don’t want to be disposable. Two men had cast her aside as if she were a worn-out pair of shoes. Ben would never do that to her. And yet he wasn’t ready to say words that had always scared him. He wasn’t ready to commit to an institution whose statistics proved it to be a bad risk.
“I’m not good at this, Holly.”
She didn’t play coy with him. She didn’t widen her eyes and pretend not to know what he was talking about.
“I’m not either,” she said.
“I don’t want you to think I lured you out here merely for sex—though I do want you.”
“During that long silence, I thought you didn’t.”
Ben caught her face in his hands and tilted it upward. “I don’t want you ever to think that, Holly. Not ever.”
Her lips looked soft and inviting when she smiled, and Ben leaned down for a taste. They were as sweet as he remembered, and then some. The animal didn’t want the kiss to end there, but the man who was struggling with emotions that were new and strange understood that sex would camouflage other feelings that were important in the growth of a relationship.
“How about that tree?” he said, and then released her.
“Bring on the decorations. I’m ready.”
Ben fetched lights and tinsel and three boxes of ornaments he’d picked up at the local discount store. Nothing fancy, just ordinary cheap glass Christmas balls in red and green and gold.
“I’m not so sure you would want my help if you could see our tree,” Holly said. “Lily saved every ornament James and I made, no matter how tacky they were. We have construction paper angels with lopsided halos, bread dough Santas that the mice have chewed on, fake stained glass windows, the kind you make from a kit, all green. Picasso had his Blue Period; I had my green one. Oh, and you should see the treetop angel. She’s bald. I made her a wig last year, but it got lost in the shuffle.”
He loved the animation on her face as she reminisced. He loved hearing about her childhood that was so vastly different from his. Even if he did peg Lily as someone who wasn’t good for Holly’s self esteem, he was glad to know that she had some redeeming qualities.
“I can’t wait to see your ornaments.” Her face fell when she saw the boxes from Wal-Mart. “Of course, not everybody is as sentimental as I am.”
“Not everybody had a childhood worthy of tucking away keepsakes.”
She touched his hand. “I’m so sorry, Ben. I would never have carried on like that if I had known.”
He didn’t want her pity.
“No problem, Holly. I’m learning that there are a few decent people in this world who are what they seem to be, but there are as many bad ones who don’t know the meaning of kindness and decency, let alone love. They are somebody’s sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters. A couple of them happen to belong in my family. It’s the luck of the draw. I accepted it a long time ago.”
He smiled, hoping to restore her cheerful mood. “Now, tell me what goes on first.”
“The lights.”
He strung the lights and together they hung the Christmas ornaments and the tinsel. Holly was easy to be with, full of uninhibited laughter and high spirits. She collected anecdotes with the same enthusiasm that she collected mementos of her past.
“Tell me about Washington,” she said, after regaling him with several funny stories gleaned from years of working in the church’s kitchen.
“There’s nothing much to tell. I did my job and they paid me well.”
Ben hung the last ornament, and they stood back to view the tree. It looked like something you would see in the display window of a department store, bright, colorful, and as impersonal as the smile of a salesclerk.
Holly’s hand stole into his.
“If you don’t mind getting your hands dirty, I still remember the recipe for bread-dough ornaments.”
Here was a woman with enough warmth and generosity for two. Loving such a woman carried all kinds of possibilities.
Long ago he had given up the hope of having the kind of life that created precious memories—celebrating birthdays and sharing Christmases, holding hands in the car and stealing a kiss when the light turned red, eating from the same box of popcorn at movies and laughing at silly jokes that weren’t funny to anybody except them. Holly was his one chance to have all that, and more. So much more.
All he had to do was reach out.
But what if it was too soon? What if he did it wrong? What if she said no?
“This could get messy,” Holly said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
It was a small step, making a Christmas memory with Holly. But at least it was a start.
“Sure,” he said. “Lead the way.”
In the kitchen Holly showed him how to mix the dough, and they laughed when he got more flour on himself than in the bowl. They made Santas and unicorns and angels, all with blue eyes and red hair because Ben insisted they should look like Holly.
It was after midnight when the bread-dough ornaments were ready to hang.
“You hang the first one because it’s your house and your tree,” she said. “Choose one.”
He chose an angel. How could he do otherwise?
When the last ornament was hung, Holly turned to smile at him, and it seemed natural to put his arms around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he caressed her hair.
“I want you, Holly,” he said.
“Yes.”
That was all she said, all she needed to say. They made slow, sweet love in front of the blazing fire in a room that finally looked and felt like a real home.
They slept for a while, then the fire died down and the chill woke them up.
“Cold?” Ben pulled Holly closer.
“Hmmm. I’m never cold with you. You’re like a heater. I wonder what your body temperature is.”
His chuckle was deep and sexy. “Hotter when you’re around.”
He kissed the side of her mouth, the lobe of her ear, the soft vulnerable spot at the base of her neck. It astonished him how much he wanted this woman.
“Don’t move,” he told her. Then he added another log and stretched out, full length, beside her.
The firelight turned her hair to flame as she bent over him. The bulbs on the Christmas tree were still on, and their faint glow, coupled with the glow of the fire, provided the only light in the room. It was Christmas Day, the first one Ben ever remembered waking up to with joy and a sense of wonder. He knew his contentment had nothing to do with time and place, but everything to do with the woman who still knelt over him.
She lifted her hair off her neck and then released it. As it cascaded across his belly, she arranged
it in a manner made more pleasurable by the knowledge that she was not practiced in the art of seduction. Firelight shot sparkles across her skin, and the scent of orange blossoms seemed to come from every glorious naked inch of her.
“Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”
“I’m wrapping a gift. Merry Christmas, Ben.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
Smiling, he unwrapped the gift and gave it back to her.
Chapter 18
It was almost daylight when Holly let herself through her front door. If she were lucky, Lily would still be sleeping, and she could slip into bed undetected.
Christmas Day. And what a beautiful gift Ben had given her. The most miraculous gift she could ever hope to receive. While he hadn’t said the words she longed to hear, he had shown her in a hundred different ways that he cared. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she remembered all those ways. She was still smiling when she walked into her den.
“Oh, my heavens,” Lily said into the receiver. Dressed in gown and robe, she was sitting on the sofa with the phone in one hand and the telephone book open on her lap. “Holly just walked in the door.”
There were indistinct sounds on the other end of the line, then Lily thrust the receiver at Holly.
“James wants to talk to you.”
The color drained from Holly’s face and her legs went weak.
“Has something happened?” she asked Lily.
“James wants to talk.” Lily closed the telephone book and pulled the wool afghan off the back of the sofa and over her legs.
Suddenly all of Holly’s energy drained. She wanted to sit down but decided against it. It was never a good idea to be too relaxed when she talked to her brother.
“James, what’s wrong?”
“You tell me.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Lily calls at the crack of dawn to say that you’ve disappeared.”
“Disappeared? James, I was visiting a friend. I left her a note.”
“You went off without telling her and left her a note? What kind of way is that to look after Lily? For Pete’s sake, Holly, she’s nearly eighty years old.”