In the dining room, I wait until everyone is seated, then I slide into the seat next to Garrett. “Will you offer thanks when we’re ready?” I whisper.
He nods.
Across from me, Mother looks at Shawn next to her, then up at the ceiling. “Kristianna, I believe there’s a draft over here. You know how susceptible I am to colds this time of year. May we trade seats?”
Could she be any more obvious? My cheeks burn, but before I can move,Garrett pushes to his feet. “I’ll be glad to trade with you, Mrs. Harrington.”
Her smile is cold enough to freeze a flame. “When you’re seating people at a proper table, you can’t exchange a man for a woman. It disturbs the balance.”
Absolute hogwash, but as Garrett sinks back to his seat, I trade places with Mother quickly. Her determination apparently knows no limits.
Garrett meets my eyes across the table and I think I see a small smile at the corner of his mouth. He knows about my relationship with my parents and no doubt saw through Mother’s “draft situation” as easily as I did. But he didn’t want to see me forced into anything. My spirits rise. It’s nice to be understood.
As soon as I’m settled, Garrett says the blessing for the food, and then everyone is talking and eating cheerfully. Shawn at least pretends he’s unaware of Mother’s machinations and the meal goes off without a hitch. While everyone is leaving, Garrett volunteers to take Sam a plate.
I grab a plastic divided platter. “Let’s heap it up.” I place another one beside it. “And here’s one for dessert.”
Garrett grins and piles ham on the first plate. “You don’t have a soft spot for that old man, do you?”
I scoop a liberal serving of banana pudding into the platter. “His politics agree with mine if that’s what you mean.”
He frowns. “I wasn’t referring to that.”
“I know.” I swat him on the shoulder, although my heart panics. What if Garrett agrees with Shawn and the others? What if my best friend is against me? At least for now, I’d rather not know. “I care about him. And feel sorry for him.”
“Well, he won’t go hungry tonight, that’s for sure.” He glances around the kitchen. “You want me to stay and help you clean up?”
More than anything. I’m too tired to wiggle. But I shake my head. “That would be great, but I’m worried about Sam. If you’ll just take this and check on him, I’ll be happy.” I reach up and drop a kiss on his cheek.
His arm circles me in a hug. “I’ll call you later so you can de-stress.”
“Good.” Especially with Ami gone, it will be good to pour out my troubles with my parents to a friend.
After he’s gone, and the others start to drift out one by one, Dad and Shawn are still engrossed in conversation, this time about golf.
Shawn apparently notices he’s the last guest remaining. He stands. “I’d better go.”
Mother sits down beside Dad on the couch. “Why don’t you stay a while?”
Shawn looks at me.
With all the enthusiasm I can muster, considering I’d like to go take a nap, I say, “Yes, why don’t you?”
Dad asks him something about the golf courses around here and Shawn sits again.
Mother retires to her room and, rather than follow her and ask her what she thinks she’s doing with the obvious matchmaking, I go to the kitchen to face the after-meal disaster.
When the dishes are done, I wonder back in the living room and sit down. Dad and Shawn have moved on to politics, a topic they apparently agree on. Mother’s in the glider again, working a puzzle. Guess she thought I didn’t want her in the kitchen.
My eyelids grow heavier. The couch cushion is so soft.
“You know we might have a place in our firm for a young man as sharp as you are,” Mother says.
I sit up straight.
Shawn is beaming. “Really?”
Dad smiles. “Come by and see us after you get your bar results.”
“That would be a real honor, sir.” Shawn nods to my mom. “Ma’am.”
Okay, I’m wide-awake now. What’s wrong with this picture? Who did Shawn come to see? Me or my parents? He probably meant to give my mother the flowers, but just hated to say so.
He catches my eye and stands. “I’d better go.”
I stand. Mother is behind him, smiling broadly. Pride shines in Dad’s eyes. Why can’t they look at me that way for who I am instead of who I’m with?
“Kristianna will see you to your car,” Mother says.
I nod. Emily Harrington has spoken. I guess I’ll see him to his car.
He shakes Dad’s hand and Mother gives him an elbow hug.
When we’re on the stairs, I look back at him. “I guess you know you’re almost a partner in the firm now, since Mother deigned to give you a hug.”
His face turns red. “I wasn’t being nice to your parents for a job.”
I smile. “Oh, so you aren’t interested in working with one of Little Rock’s most prestigious law firms?”
We reach the bottom step and he grins. “Just because I wasn’t campaigning for a job doesn’t mean I’m not interested.”
“The truth comes out.” We stand at the glass door and look out at the snow.
“Do you ever dream of going to sunny Florida on days like this?” he asks.
I shake my head and wipe the fog from the glass so I can look up at the solid white sky. “Nope.” Not even when I get flip-flops and beach bags as gifts. “There’s no place like Jingle Bells for Christmas.” I smile. “Or any other day for that matter.”
He scuffs at the concrete floor with his shoe. “You never quit, do you? You’re a Jingle Bells supporter, twenty-four/seven.”
“And proud of it.”
“What about time to relax and think about more personal things? Don’t you ever consider life more intimately than on the town level?” I recognize his tone. It’s the lawyer gene, kicking in.
“Sure I do. But the way I see it, my life, along with the rest of the town, is about to be obliterated if we don’t win this battle. When someone’s dropping a bomb on you, you don’t sit around and explore your feelings.”
As a matter of fact, if I’m going to talk to someone, I’d rather it be someone who’s going to help me stop the Summer Valley madness. I need to be making lists of people to call and things to do. “It’s been a long day, Shawn. I appreciate your coming. I know there were parts of it that were uncomfortable.”
“No problem.” He puts his hand on the doorknob, then turns back to look at me. “I have a feeling this is a hopeless case anyway.”
“Changing the name of Jingle Bells?” If he can see that, then maybe the battle won’t be as difficult as I think.
“No. I was thinking aloud.” He holds my gaze. “On a personal level.”
Oh. “I’m sorry.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, me too. Thanks for dinner.”
He’s really gorgeous. Even when he’s dejected. And he’s a nice Christian guy.
I stand at the door and watch him walk to his car. What am I thinking letting him go?
Unfortunately my heart is doing the thinking these days.
Call me a coward. But I can’t force myself to walk immediately up the stairs and face my parents. I kill some time in the store, getting things ready for the after-Christmas sale. Ten minutes later, I slip into my apartment.
My parents’ bag is by the door next to the painting I did for them. My dad turns from the window, just as my mother comes down the hall. “That didn’t take long,” she says.
I’m not sure if she knows how short a time it really took, so I just nod. “I’m tired.”
“Yes, well, so are we, so we’d better go.”
“Thank you for coming.” It seems to me that good-byes often reflect a magnified version of the relationship between the people who are being separated. With my parents, the ever-present awkward emotions swell to gigantic proportions when it’s time to say good-bye.
“Yes, thank you for having us,” Dad says. “And thank you for the gift. It’s lovely.”
Mother nods. “We’d like for you to come to dinner at our house after New Year’s. What night would be best for you?”
Uh-oh. Family dinners planned in advance are always a bad sign. But putting it off will serve no purpose. “Friday night?” It’s not like I have anywhere else to be on Friday nights. And I open the shop an hour later on Saturdays.
“Jared, are you free on the Friday night after New Year’s?”
Dad frowns. “I can move racquetball to Tuesday and that will be fine.”
“Good.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and I’m suddenly sure they know how quickly my talk with Shawn ended.
They gather their things to leave, and once again, I tramp down the stairs, follow them to the front door, and lock up behind them. “Merry Christmas,” I say softly and watch the glass fog up with my words.
Two hours later I’m in my workshop painting when I hear a tapping sound on the window. I spin around in time to see a few pebbles hit the glass. I walk over to look out and see Garrett in the hazy twilight. He grins and holds up a big brightly wrapped box with a big red bow. A giggle slips from me as I run to the back door to let him in. My crazy friend.
“What are you doing?”
“Just spreading Christmas cheer.” He hands me the box.
“You nut. You could have just called or even walked up to the window and knocked. It’s street level.”
“I know, but I’ve always wanted to throw pebbles at a window. It’s so old movie-ish.”
It is, isn’t it? “Stay right here,” I say. “I want to run up and get your gift.”
I didn’t want to give it to him earlier in front of everyone, so I’d planned to ask him to get together anyway when he called tonight. He just beat me to it.
I take the stairs two at a time and am back in a flash. A little out of breath, but feeling more light-hearted already. “Here.” I thrust the small package into his hand.
“Thanks.” He motions toward the box on the counter. “You first.”
I sink to a stool. He sits on the one beside me and watches as I tear the paper off. “Hey, didn’t you want to save the paper?”
I stop then see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Very funny.” I use my snowman letter opener to cut the tape on the box and flip open the lid. I pull out a beautiful frame and stare at the photo of Ami and me, sitting on the bottom step of the store stairs. Garrett is behind us in the middle, his hand on each of our heads.
I put my hand to my mouth. “Oh my. I remember the year of the camera.” I look over at him. “You got that camera for Christmas and we thought you’d never quit recording every second of our lives in photographs.” I run my hand over the frame. We all have goofy grins, but you can tell we’re really happy. “This is so cool.”
“Your gran took that one for us.” He motions toward the box. “There’s another one.”
The second photo has a matching frame, but the pic is one Garrett shot of Gran and me, the same year. “Oh, Garrett. I love it. I know exactly where I’m going to hang these.” I hug him. “What a perfect gift.”
He smiles. “Glad you liked them.”
Liked them? This may be the best gift I’ve ever gotten. My mind jumps to the “anonymous” summer-themed surprises from Shawn. Lately I’ve been receiving lots of presents. “Here.” I scoot his gift from me over in front of him.
He rips it open with just as much enthusiasm as I did mine and when he holds the ornament in his hand, he lifts it up to examine it. “Wow. This is amazing.”
Last summer, right after he got back in town to stay, he and I had taken his dog, Shadow, kayaking. Big mistake. Thanks to the exuberant black lab, we spent more time in the water than in the kayak. I’d worked hard to capture the boy and girl on each end of the kayak holding on for dear life, while the dog is up on the side with its front paws.
Garrett runs his finger over the details. “I can’t imagine anything I’d rather have.” He cups my face with his hand and drops a kiss on my forehead. “Thanks.”
Before I can answer, he slides his hand around under my chin and tilts my face upward. I meet his gaze. His very close gaze. What’s he doing? I open my mouth to ask him and he touches his lips to mine. My hand instinctively tangles in his curls as I return his tender kiss.
Whoa. Double whoa.
So that’s what he was doing. As I relax in the circle of his arms, my workshop fades away.
Chapter Fourteen
After what seems like forever, but is probably only seconds, Garrett sits back. His normally easy grin seems a little forced, but he points up above our heads. “Seemed a shame to waste that mistletoe.”
I give a breathless laugh. “Yeah. A shame.”
He pushes to his feet. “Want to go build a snowman? Then we can grab a bite to eat.”
I hope he doesn’t notice I’m still trying to shift back to reality. I shouldn’t feel so jumbled inside. What’s a little mistletoe between friends? “I don’t know if anything’s open or not.”
He shrugs. “If not, we’ll just have to make do with leftovers. C’mon, sport. Race ya to the park.”
He turns for the door and I touch my lips absently. What just happened? Whatever it was, he seems prepared to ignore it.
“You coming?”
I shrug into my coat and follow him out. He puts his arm around me loosely, shielding me from the cold wind. Ten minutes ago, I wouldn’t have given that simple gesture a second thought. Now I can’t stop analyzing.
We turn toward the park. For a few minutes, the only sound is our boots crunching in the snow.
“Look. There must have been a Christmas program today.” He points at three kids in front of the two houses we’re passing.
A girl in an angel costume is trying to build a snowman, while two shepherds are running and pelting each other with snowballs.
“Looks like fun.” I say, hoping to get things back to normal. For me, that is. He seems totally unfazed by our mistletoe meeting.
“It does, doesn’t it?” He scoops up a handful of snow and starts to form it into a ball.
“Garrett. Don’t even think about it.” Even as I protest, I know I actually welcome a return to the familiar teasing and camaraderie.
“Think about what?” he taunts, waving the snowball at me.
A motion from the yard catches our attention. We look over just in time to see one little shepherd grab the other by his brown gunnysack poncho and push him down. He comes up swinging his fists. The snowball in Garrett’s hand falls to the sidewalk as we stare at the boys while they roll over and over, throwing punches. The angel takes off for the smaller house.
Garrett wades into the fray and manages to come up with both wiggling shepherds, held an arm’s length apart. “Boys.” His voice is commanding. “Cut it out.”
They stop swinging and sullenly stare at each other. Garrett looks toward the house then back at me. I know. I thought the angel would have brought help by now, too. I shrug.
“You two were having fun a minute ago. What happened?” Garrett asks.
“He said our town is dumb.” The boy’s red hair stands straight out and I promise you can almost see it tingle with indignation.
His white-haired counterpart crosses his arms in front of him. “Did not! I just told you my dad said we’ll have to change the name to Summer Valley if we want more Christmas presents next year.”
“You said ‘dumb ole Jingle Bells’. I heard you.”
“Did not.”
“Did so.”
A man in a white tank t-shirt and stained jeans barrels out of the small house. “Hey, whatchoo doin’?” His tattooed arms look like Popeye’s after spinach. “Let go of my kid,” he growls as he gets closer.
Garrett releases the boys but stands his ground between them. “They were fighting.”
The blond boy runs to the man’s side and wipes at the blood trickling from his nose. “Dadd
y, Robbie said we have to change the name of Jingle Bells. Is that true?”
“Only if you want to eat and keep a roof over your head.” We all turn to face a ruddy-faced man with hair the same fiery color as ‘Robbie.’ He has his hand on his son’s shoulder and is giving Garrett the evil eye.
Popeye forgets about us and turns on his neighbor. “Garbage. I know how these big corporations are. Full of worthless promises. Hot air. My family’s been from Jingle Bells forever. We’re not moving.” He flexes his muscle and spits on the ground. “And we’re not living in Summer Valley.”
Garrett walks back over to me. “I think they’re too big for me to pull apart,” he says under his breath.
I nod. “Yeah, they’re liable to pull you apart. Let’s go.”
As we start to round the corner, I glance back at the two men, inches apart, yelling, while the angel and two shepherds look on.
~~~~~
Ami plunks the almost empty punch bowl onto the church fellowship hall kitchen counter. “You do realize that, technically, since I’m married, I’m a guest tonight, right?”
I wrinkle my nose at her. “Not this year, missy. We started plans for the party before you tied the knot. So grab that Sprite and help me make more punch. Tonight you’re a single.”
She pours Sprite into the bowl while I scoop vanilla ice cream in. As we finish, Mark walks through the door, Shawn behind him.
“Where’s the punch?” Mark asks. “The natives are restless.”
“You’re just in time, honey,” Ami says, with a saucy smile. “Kristianna just informed me that I’m single tonight.”
He wraps his arm around her waist. “I don’t think so.”
I hold my hands up. “Your wife was trying to shirk her hostess duties as part of the singles’ group.”
“Next year, sweetie,” he says to Ami. “We’ll be guests like the rest of the church.” He picks up the full punch bowl and Ami pushes the door open for him. They disappear into the fellowship hall main room.
Forever Christmas Page 10