Jewelry was too much of a proclamation. It was too early for jewelry. But clothing seemed inappropriate — who was he to think he could figure out what she'd want to wear when she did such a great job of it herself?
Then he settled into an idea. He'd make her something. But what? A piece of furniture seemed wrong. She lived in a tiny rented apartment. It wasn't like she had room for a big table or rocking chair. But something smaller. A jewelry box! Yes. A wooden jewelry box, handmade, that if their relationship progressed in the future, he could fill with pieces of jewelry. Maybe. He wouldn't even think that far ahead.
So, he began brainstorming on the wooden box. Its measurements, its shape and size, the wood he'd use. After jotting down a few designs, he settled on something he was happy with. A sizable wooden box, it would turn out to be nearly a foot on each side. He'd use two unique woods that weren't often blended together in a single project — ash for the four sides, and a striking purpleheart for the legs. The corners would be rounded to provide a soft look, and he'd line the inside with velvet. After spending several days working on the design, he pondered the tools he'd need to bring his vision to life.
Definitely a band saw, a table saw, and a sander. It amazed him as he worked through the steps, just how intricate this relatively simple box was. To make it turn out right, he had to take care with a number of elements no one would ever imagine.
He lifted his head from his paper and smirked. He'd have to remember to share that with Neil, who was always looking for analogies that applied to leading a good life. He'd like that one.
* * *
Christmas Eve arrived on Pawleys Island along with an unexpected and atypical snowfall. The flakes melted as soon as they hit the ground, but still, it threw the islanders into a scurry, some worried about driving in such conditions, while the children wanted to go outside and play in the unfamiliar precipitation.
Emma studied herself in the bathroom mirror, putting the final touches on her face, a swipe of blush on each cheek, some shimmery eye shadow on her lids and a few brushes of mascara on her lashes. She stepped back and observed her black dress with random stripes of red. A red scarf and high heels, and she was ready to go to Christmas Eve church service with Jeremy.
She left the bathroom and headed toward her front room. She and her parents would not be spending Christmas Eve together, as they normally did. Ever since their argument several weeks ago, things between she and Mom were strained, to say the least. They were tiptoeing on eggshells around each other. However, as far from normal as it was, it was much better than her relationship with Dad. He had gone into hiding, not answering her calls and not emerging when she came to visit. She dreaded spending their traditional Christmas Day together tomorrow, wondering how tense it would be.
But she wouldn't worry about that now.
The doorbell rang. She ran to the door and opened it. Jeremy stood there wearing a full suit, and holding a large wrapped Christmas present. She wasn't sure which looked better.
“Come in!” she said and pulled him by the arm. She drank in the sight of him, head to toe. “I've never seen you in a suit. You look great.”
“Don't look real close. It's ancient, and probably out of style by now. I wore it to my college graduation.”
She patted his shoulders and lapel, then leaned in for a kiss. “I'd never know. And …?” She looked pointedly at the present, wrapped in foil red paper, topped off with a green bow.
“Oh, this is for you.” He handed it to her.
“Hold on a sec. I'll get yours.” She dashed over to the kitchen counter.
“You didn't have to get me anything,” he murmured but she still heard him.
“Of course I did! It's Christmas!”
He nodded, smiling. “Open yours first.”
She led him to the couch and they sat. It didn't take long to rip the paper off and a beautiful wooden box emerged. “Ohhhh …” It was a sizable box, more of a miniature chest really, made of the most gorgeous two shades of wood, one a light brown and the other a vivid red. “It's so pretty.” She studied it slowly, opened the lid, closed it again. She ran her fingertips over its glossy surface. The thought that he'd worked on a handmade gift for her, a more thoughtful gift than a sweater at the mall, almost brought tears to her eyes. She fought them off. “I assume it's one of your creations?”
He nodded.
“Thank you, Jeremy. It's really a work of art.”
He shrugged. “You're welcome. I enjoyed making it. Something different for me.”
She set it aside, reached for her gift, and handed it to him. “Now you.”
He took the big box she'd wrapped in Santa paper and carefully opened it by the tape creases. When he was done she practically could've reused the paper for another gift. He lifted the lid off the box and pulled out the black felt cowboy hat. He chuckled and put it on. “Thank you.”
“For the next time we go riding together.”
He didn't say anything for a moment. She watched him. Was he choked up? Then he put the hat back in the box. “That's very thoughtful, thank you.”
On the drive to church, Emma asked, “So what are your plans for tomorrow?”
“Family Christmas,” he said with a smile. “First one for me, in way too long. Marianne and Tom are having us all over to the Inn. My dad and Leslie, Jasmine, me. Of course, my niece Stella will be there.”
Well, that settled it. If he'd had no plans, she was toying with the idea of inviting him to her family Christmas. Her dysfunctional family Christmas. But no, she wouldn't do that to him. She'd let him enjoy his day where they all loved and appreciated him. Had forgiven him for past sins.
And she'd broach the subject again of helping her father with his recovery, in the New Year.
Chapter Ten
Christmas turned out to be less dysfunctional than she feared. More like, everyone was using the avoidance technique. Avoid talking about anything that caused tension between the three of them. It wasn't quite like old times, but it allowed them to eat a nice meal cooked by Mom, without suffering indigestion.
New Years was approaching quickly and Emma wanted to get her plans in place. Her first choice was to spend it with Jeremy. But in case he wasn't game, she could accept an invitation from a group of her girlfriends to go out dancing and drinking. As each day passed, she waited for an invitation from him that didn't come. Finally, she bucked it up and called him.
“So, New Year's Eve is a few nights away.”
“So it is.”
“Would you like to spend it with me?” His hesitation made her breath catch, and she knew she was into this way too deep if the answer to this question would make or break her New Years.
“What did you have in mind?” his answer came cautiously.
What does it matter? Isn't just spending it with me enough? Of course, she didn't say that to him. Too assertive. Gave away too much of her inner thoughts. But in her heart, she wished he would be up for a New Year's together regardless of what they did. “Nothing, really. I thought it would be nice to ring in the New Year together and thought I'd ask.”
“Can we do it without a big crowd around? Or would that put a damper on your New Year's Eve?”
“Want to just come over to my apartment? I'll get some noisemakers, streamers, champagne. We'll do the traditional stuff at midnight. Before then, we can just hang out. Watch a movie, whatever.”
“That sounds great.”
When she recognized the relieved tone in his voice she was glad she'd suggested it. She got the distinct impression he was glad to spend the holiday with her, as long as it was a quiet one.
She went into the office during the day and on the way home, stopped by the Dollar Store to pick up cheap decorations, then to the grocery store to pick up a bottle of champagne. At home, she taped cardboard cut-outs and sparkly garlands around the living room and smiled at her makeshift attempts at making the little place look festive.
One thing she really liked about Jeremy
was she didn't have to try to impress him. He was down to earth and easy to be around.
She called a local pizza joint and asked about delivery. They were swamped with business, as she'd expected, but fortunately she'd called early enough to get into their lineup. A sausage and mushroom pizza would arrive between eight and eight thirty.
Now, it was time to relax and wait for Jeremy.
* * *
Jeremy stepped out of the shower at seven. He'd spent the day bundled in warm clothes, working on furniture in the backyard. It had been unseasonably cold this month, in the low forties. But other than a freak snowfall on Christmas Eve, there had been no precipitation so it was safe to work outside. If his business was going to continue to grow, he'd have to invest in some indoor work space. Between the tarp in his backyard, and the storage shed behind Marianne's Inn, he always worked outside.
A good problem to have and one he'd worry about later. Tonight, he had a date with Emma for New Years and he had the suspicion she'd want it to be special. After all, what woman would ask a man out for New Years, take his suggestion to stay away from the big crowds of a bar or party, and agree to entertain him at her place unless she expected that they’d create a little of their own magic? He felt a little bad for downgrading her evening to a quiet one at home, if going out and partying was what she had in mind. The last thing he'd want is the pressure of knowing that he'd ruined her holiday.
He shaved carefully, avoiding cuts. He put some gel in his hair and combed it. He'd discovered gel not because he was fussy about his hair, rather, the opposite. Swiping a palm full of gel in his wet hair, then combing it where he wanted it to go, resulted in the hair drying in place and never requiring a second thought.
A touch of apprehension made his breath hitch. He looked forward to seeing Emma, and enjoyed spending time with her, but his need to not screw up made him nervous. He still hadn't resolved his suspicions that Emma and her family were better off without him, regardless of Jasmine's advice. But the thought of cutting ties with Emma definitely wasn't setting well with him, since he found himself more and more lately thinking about her. Daydreaming, reliving conversations they'd had together. And those kisses.
He'd nearly forgotten how great intimacy with a woman felt. But he had a feeling it wouldn't be just any woman who made him feel as good.
It was Emma.
He didn't want to let her go. Was that driven by selfish, or noble motives?
So, he could decide, at least for now, that he wanted to stay with Emma. What came next? Should he push the relationship a little further, from a physical perspective? Would Emma want that? Would she be horrified?
Finished in the bathroom, he sighed and turned the light off. He was completely out of his league here. His best plan of action was to pay attention to what Emma wanted. Be sensitive to her words and actions. And honesty, that was probably a good thing too.
He drove to her apartment. She opened the door and for a moment he was speechless. She looked gorgeous. Her bounty of light brown hair hung in soft ringlets around her shoulders and she wore a midnight blue dress that reflected her eyes and clung to her curves. The sight of her caused his mouth to drop like one of those dorky cartoons. He could just picture his eyes popping in and out.
Be smooth, he begged himself.
“Can I just say, wow. You look absolutely beautiful, Emma.”
She smiled, pleased. “Thank you.” She did a quick little twirl in the doorway so he could see all angles of her. And he didn't miss a thing. “You look nice too.”
He'd put on black dress pants and leather shoes along with a button down shirt in almost the same blue as her dress. “You'd think we'd planned this. We're color coordinated.”
She giggled and stepped aside so he could enter. On his way past he lingered, placed his hand under her hair and guided her face to his. The excitement of the holiday and the moment their lips connected made his heart beat a little faster, and he came up for air once, then placed his lips back on hers. Her lips curled into a smile while he continued to kiss her. He opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. This close to her, he smelled her signature scent, coconut.
A noise in the hallway made him turn and look at a neighbor using his key to unlock his own door about three down. They nodded at each other. He realized he was mauling her lips and hadn't even made it into her place yet. Chemistry, that's what they had.
He turned back to Emma and she still had her head tilted up, her breath tripping lightly over her open mouth, her eyelids halfway closed. Her beauty reached out and grabbed him. “Happy New Year.”
She opened her eyes, seemed to come back to her senses and closed the door behind him.
She took his jacket and hung it in her closet. She picked up a plastic case containing a DVD and waved it at him. “Pizza's coming in less than an hour. Want to watch this about halfway through, then take a break to eat?”
He nodded. “Sure, whatever you want.”
“Have a seat.” She motioned to the couch. “Don't you even want to know what movie I picked?”
He shrugged. “I'm sure I haven't seen it so it really doesn't matter.”
She gave him a look, half sympathy, half acceptance. She crouched in front of the TV and before long, a movie began. She came and sat with him, so close her bare leg leaned up against his covered one.
Stop acting like a depraved teenager, he lectured himself. You're on a date with a gorgeous woman and for some reason, she likes you. Just go with it, and pretend to be a lot more smooth than you really are.
With that, he rested his right arm on her shoulder, and she nestled into him so her head rested against his chest. He said a silent prayer of thanks and tried to concentrate on the movie.
* * *
The pizza turned out to be late, but it was okay. She and Jeremy were absorbed in the movie. In fact, it was perfect timing. Not five minutes after the movie ended, the doorbell rang and the scent of delicious meat and sauce filled her place. She set out plates and Jeremy served the pieces while she poured glasses of iced water.
“So, a new year. Any resolutions?”
“Not really. Still working on my old resolutions.”
“Which are?”
He looked up at her. “You know, all my assimilation stuff. All the stuff I work on with Neil. Being honest, working hard, being a good person.”
“Oh, gotcha.” She took a bite. Man, this stuff was good.
“How about you?”
“Well, funny you should ask. I want to help my family. Bring us to healing. We've been broken way too long.”
His hand holding a slice halted on the way to his mouth. He was motionless for a moment and then placed the pizza quietly down on his plate. Great, she'd made him lose his appetite.
“That's, that's great,” he said tentatively.
“Jeremy, my dad is addicted to beer. It's dominating his life. He can't go out and get a job because he can't go all day without a drink. In addition to any physical problems this might be causing, it's at the heart of all his emotional problems.” She laid her slice down. “If we can get him to recognize his drinking problem, and agree to quit drinking, no matter how hard that is, he might be able to get his life back. And if he starts working, it'll help my mom. She's got no one to share the load right now. She deserves to relax a little. She works so hard.”
“You said, 'we.'“
“I'll do it alone if I have to. But I'd rather have you help me.” She got up and walked around to his side of the table. “What do you say?”
He stood and paced a few steps away. “Your father hates me, Emma. He has for a long time. Whether he has good reason or not, you can't take away the fact that he loathes me. Do you really think I'd help the cause? I'll just make it worse.”
“Maybe he'll listen to you.”
“Why would he?” He was starting to raise his voice and took care to stop, to get his temper under control.
They both sat down at the table, their interest in pizza
gone now. Finally, Jeremy said, “I like you. I really do. But I don't know, this whole thing with your dad could be a show-stopper.”
He'd put it out there. He was being honest with her, regardless of how much she hated the message. She guessed she could admire him for that. “I like you too.” She picked up the plates and walked them into the kitchen. “Maybe I'm crazy. After everything that's happened with my dad, it would take a miracle to get him to quit drinking.”
The last thing she wanted to do on New Year's Eve while spending a quiet evening with the guy who took her breath away, was to cry. She wiped tears from her eyes and turned away so he wouldn't see.
“What did you say?”
She lifted a hand. “Nothing. Let's just drop it for now. I don't know if we can come to an agreement about this and I don't want to ruin our New Year's.”
“No, wait.” He came to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “You said it would take a miracle to get your dad to quit drinking.”
She nodded.
“So, who's the only one capable of performing miracles?”
“God,” she mumbled, confused.
“Then let's ask Him. You and me, right now. We'll go straight to the source and ask Him to perform a miracle. It's our only chance, right?”
She shrugged, focused on his face. Instead of resistant and closed off, he was smiling. In fact, he was practically beaming. “How?”
He got down on one knee, then dropped his other so he was kneeling. “Come down here with me. It's worth a try, Emma. We can't do this on our own. Your dad can't either. There's too much stacked against us. But with God, all things are possible. Don't you remember the Scripture the pastor read that first morning we went to church together? Jesus was preaching and He said something like, 'With man, this would be impossible, but with God, all things are possible.' Do you believe that, Emma?”
She did. She wanted to. She wanted to believe that God could help her with her problems, she just hadn't had enough experience with Him to feel convicted about it. But evidently, Jeremy had. Jeremy went to church, Jeremy knew the Bible, Jeremy prayed. She wanted a miracle.
Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3 Page 39