Make-Believe Mistletoe

by Gina Wilkins

  She tapped her chin again. “Popcorn, maybe, for stringing. Do you have any art supplies? Paper, glue, markers-that sort of thing?”

  Banner turned on one heel. “I'll see what I can gather up.”

  “Thank you, Banner,” she called after him as he left the room.

  It must have been the milk, he thought again with a slow shake of his head.

  By midmorning Lucy had turned the living room into a Christmas workshop. Banner had provided a generous-and rather surprisingly varied-supply of materials. Colored papers, thin sheets of cardboard, markers, glue, large tubes of silver, red and gold glitter, several colors of ribbon, yarn and fabric scraps. There was also a shoebox filled with buttons of all different shapes, sizes and colors, and a couple of booklets of gold and silver star-shaped stickers.

  “Craft supplies?” Lucy asked when he'd carried the big carton of items into the room.

  He shrugged. “My great-uncle kept supplies here to entertain his friends' children when they visited-kept the kids from getting into his tools. I used to play with the craft stuff, myself, when I was a kid. Always looked forward to it-until I got old enough to start working with his tools, which I liked even better. I found this carton in one of the storage closets after I moved in, and I thought it might come in handy someday.”

  She gave him a grin. “Looks like it's 'someday.”'

  “Apparently,” he agreed with that slight quirk of his lips that she had finally decided was a smile.

  Now, warmed by the crackling fire, Joan and the children sat around the coffee table happily making paper chains and ornaments for the tree Banner and Bobby Ray had gone out to find. The dog snoozed beneath the round oak table, seeming to enjoy the company.

  Miss Annie knitted contentedly in her rocker, while Pop strung popcorn on fishing line. His hands were a bit gnarled, but he handled the needle skillfully. “I've strung plenty of popcorn in my day,” he boasted. “Done my share of sewing, too.”

  Lucy studied the scene with a touch of smugness. Very domestic. The children were laughing and the adults were all smiling. The appetizing scent of popcorn filled the room, and the flickering of the candles that lightened the shadowy corners added an old-world charm.

  What a clever idea she'd had, she thought as she turned toward the kitchen to pour herself another cup of coffee. Now everyone was happy again.

  She had just stepped into the room when the kitchen door flew open with a bang and Banner carried Bobby Ray into the house.

  Of course, Banner wasn't exactly carrying the much larger man, but he was obviously supporting him as Bobby Ray limped inside, a painful grimace behind his beard. Forgetting the coffee, Lucy rushed forward. “What happened? Bobby Ray, are you hurt?”

  It was a stupid question, she realized as Banner lowered the other man into a chair. But Bobby Ray answered patiently. “I'm okay. Just took a spill on the ice, that's all. Bruised, but no real damage.”

  Having heard Lucy's cry, Joan came in to see what was going on. She took one look at the men and hurried to the percolator. “You both look half-frozen.”

  Banner and Bobby Ray had peeled off their hats and gloves, revealing faces reddened by cold and fingers that moved stiffly as they reached for the steaming mugs Joan offered them. Lucy bit her lower lip in guilt. She had been so focused on having a Christmas tree for the children that she hadn't given enough thought to the dangers of trudging around on a sheet of ice.

  She moved closer to Bobby Ray. “Are you sure nothing's broken? Maybe I should look at your injury to see how bad it really is.”

  Banner cleared his throat.

  Bobby Ray gave a bark of laughter. “I don't think so, Lucy. Truth is, my feet flew out from under me and I landed flat on my-” he glanced at Joan, then concluded “-on my behind. Just bruised my tailbone, that's all. It's sore as he-er, heck, but I'll be all right.”

  “You should at least take a pain reliever.”

  Banner moved to the pantry, took out a plastic bottle of ibuprofen, and tossed it to Bobby Ray, who caught it in one big hand. Lucy noted that Banner's expression was shuttered, so that she couldn't read his thoughts. Which, she decided with a grimace, was probably just as well.

  He caught her eyes as he moved toward the back door again. “I'll go out and build a stand for the tree,” he said, handing her his empty mug when he passed her.

  Setting the mug on the counter, she turned to follow Banner out onto the back porch, leaving Joan to see to Bobby Ray. The frigid air hit her like a hard kick, driving the breath from her lungs. It hung in a frosty cloud in front of her. She crossed her arms over her thick sweatshirt and shivered. “You found a tree?”

  Pulling his hat back onto his head, Banner nodded. “A small cedar that managed to miss most of the ice because it was under several larger trees. It's over by my workshop.”

  “Do you need any help?”

  “No, I can handle it. Looked as if you're keeping things under control in there. Why don't you go back inside? You don't even have on a coat.”

  “I feel guilty,” she admitted. “You've been out here in the cold and ice finding a tree you didn't want in the first place while I've been in your warm house watching the kids make decorations you didn't ask for. Bobby Ray got hurt and you-”

  “Wait a minute.” He set his hands heavily on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “When those kids came into the kitchen this morning, they were the saddest sight I ever saw. Now they're in there laughing and having a good time getting into the Christmas spirit, and all because you had the clever idea to have them make decorations. There's no reason at all for you to feel guilty.”

  She looked up at him through her lashes. “But Bobby Ray-”

  “Bobby Ray bruised his butt,” Banner interrupted inelegantly. “I saw him fall, and I'm confident he'll be fine.

  Just sore. And I'm sure he would risk falling again if it meant making the kids happy. He told me he hated seeing them so sad.”

  Banner's reassurances made her feel better. Though she was self-conscious about standing so close to him and having his hands on her, she found herself in no hurry to move away.

  “If it hadn't been for you,” he went on, “I wouldn't have known what to do with everyone today. The kids would probably be whining and crying and bringing everyone else down, and it would have been miserable. Believe me, you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  She smiled up at him. “Thank you for saying that.”

  “I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it.”

  That statement made her laugh. “Trust me, that's one thing I have figured out about you.”

  His gaze dropped slowly to her smiling mouth, then lingered there. She felt her smile fade in response to his expression. They stood so close together their breath mingled into a single hazy cloud-and there was something uncomfortably intimate about that observation.

  “You're cold,” Banner said after a moment. “You should go back inside.”

  Cold? Funny, at that moment, he wasn't at all aware of the cold. She actually felt a bit warm in some places.

  But the shiver that ran through her wasn't entirely due to sexual awareness. Reluctantly she took a step backward, and Banner's hands fell to his sides. Suddenly she felt the cold again. “Let me know if there's anything I can do to help.”

  He nodded, stuck his hands in his coat pockets, turned and headed toward his workshop, placing his feet with care on the icy path. Lucy watched him for a moment longer, until the cold drove her back inside.

  * * *

  While the others stayed busy making decorations, Lucy and Joan went into the kitchen at just before one that afternoon to prepare lunch. Even from in there, they could hear the slightly off-key strains of “Jingle Bells” being sung in the living room.

  Pop, they had discovered, loved to sing, and he particularly loved to sing Christmas carols. Bobby Ray had pulled out a battered old guitar he claimed was never far from his side; he hadn't left it in the truck because he s
aid the damp cold was bad for the wood and the strings. Pop and Bobby Ray had been leading the children in familiar holiday tunes for the past half hour.

  “Pop's a sweet man, isn't he?” Joan asked Lucy as they opened the pantry door. “He reminds me of my grandfather.”

  Lucy smiled. “That's what Bobby Ray said.”

  Joan bit her lip. “Did he?”

  “Yes. Bobby Ray's nice, too. Very funny, and so kind to Miss Annie and the kids. Although he snores like a freight train and can't carry a tune in a bucket,” she added with a chuckle. “But he does play the guitar well.”

  “He does seem nice,” Joan agreed hesitantly. “I have to admit I was a bit intimidated by him at first. He's so large and hairy.”

  “Rather like Banner's dog,” Lucy murmured.

  Joan smiled a little. “Bobby Ray's louder. I haven't heard the dog so much as yip since we got here.”

  “He snores almost as loudly as Bobby Ray.”

  The other woman laughed, then looked into the pantry again. “Poor Banner's getting low on supplies. We'll all have to chip in for groceries before we leave.”

  “Definitely.” But Lucy wondered if he would accept any money from them. Banner seemed to be the fiercely proud and independent type. “We could make sandwiches with chips and pickles on the side. I saw some lunch meat out in the cooler. It should probably be used soon.”

  “Sandwiches sound fine.”

  Lucy stepped out onto the porch, glancing toward the workshop as she did so. The doors were closed, but a thin plume of smoke rose from a small chimney in the roof, indicating a woodstove of some sort. She wondered if it was really taking Banner this long to craft a simple stand for the tree or if he was busying himself in his workshop to avoid entertaining his guests. She suspected the latter.

  It was probably just as well that he was staying away, she decided. She was getting much too intrigued by that man. And with her tendency to tumble into trouble, she was likely to do something stupid if she spent much more time with him-especially as close as she had been to him on this porch earlier, she thought with a touch of pensiveness.

  If she had ever seen a heartache waiting to happen, it was Banner-a man so private and reserved that he had only shared one name with her.

  She carried the lunch meat back inside, closing the back door on the sight of Banner's workshop.

  Working in comfortable unison, Lucy and Joan assembled the ingredients for sandwiches. Lucy's curiosity about Joan was growing, and she had never been very successful at reining in her curiosity. She would, however, try to be as tactful as possible with her prying.

  “Your children are very well behaved,” she began. “Considering everything, they've been real troupers today.”

  Joan's brown eyes brightened in response to the compliment. “Thank you. I really appreciate everything you all have done to entertain them.”

  Lucy shrugged. “It keeps us entertained, too. Are you a single mom?”

  She had tried to slip the question in casually, but subtlety had never been one of Lucy's talents. Joan stiffened a bit. “Yes,” she replied after a moment. “I'm divorced. The kids haven't seen their father in several years.”

  “You're doing a wonderful job with them.”

  “I do my best.”

  It couldn't be easy raising two children alone, Lucy mused. Which was why a solemn respect for the responsibilities of fatherhood was high on her list of husband qualifications. Lucy definitely wanted children, and it was her intention to provide those children with a good father.

  “Have you ever been married?” Joan asked, turning the questioning around.

  “No, but I'm looking,” Lucy replied cheerfully.

  “Um, you are?”

  “Yep. I've been on more blind dates than I can count during the past year. None of them has led to anything promising, but I haven't given up.”

  “So you really are looking.”

  “Oh, yes. I concentrated on establishing my career first, but now I'm ready to establish a family. I'll be twenty-eight in a few months.”

  “I was married at twenty-three,” Joan confided as she spread mustard on a slice of wheat bread. “Three years later we were on the verge of a breakup when I found out I was pregnant with Tyler. We struggled along for another couple of years, but Roger left while I was pregnant with Tricia. He said he couldn't handle the pressure of a wife and two children.”

  What a jerk. Keeping that thought to herself, Lucy said only, “I'm sorry.”

  Joan shrugged. “It was all for the best, I suppose. The kids and I have gotten along fine without him.”

  More determined than ever to make sure Tyler and Tricia had a nice Christmas, Lucy asked, “Do you have their Christmas gifts in your car?”

  “Yes, hidden in the trunk. Why?”

  Lucy glanced quickly toward the doorway. She could hear Pop and the children singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” in the living room, so she felt safe enough saying, “Would you like for Santa Claus to stop here for them tonight? We have a tree-and the rest of us could help you.”

  Joan turned to face her, obviously intrigued by the suggestion. “I had thought I'd just wait until we reached my mother's house, but maybe-”

  “Wouldn't they get a kick out of waking up tomorrow morning to discover that Santa found them after all?”

  Joan's smile turned tremulous in anticipation. “They would be thrilled.”

  “Then let's do it.”

  Joan nodded. “It's a deal.”

  Lucy called Banner in from his workshop for lunch, which they ate around the dining room table. Bobby Ray was moving more easily now, the pain reliever having done its job, and everyone seemed to be in good spirits.

  After lunch Banner carried in the six-foot-tall cedar he and Bobby Ray had found earlier. Banner had nailed a wooden stand to the bottom of the tree, which he set in one corner of the living room.

  “We don't have any twinkle lights,” Tricia said, studying the bare branches.

  Her brother gave a long-suffering sigh. “We don't have any electricity, dopey-head. The lights wouldn't work even if we had some.”

  “I'm not a dopey-head,” Tricia protested, lower lip protruding.

  “Are, too.”

  “Am not!”

  Joan interceded quickly. “It's Christmas Eve, kids. Don't forget who might be listening.”

  They fell silent immediately. Tricia looked around as if searching for hidden Santa listening devices. Joan and Lucy exchanged conspiratorial smiles.

  Joan helped the children drape strung popcorn and paper chains around the tree. A stack of imaginative paper-glitter-button-and-ribbon ornaments waited to be hung from the branches. Pop, Miss Annie and Bobby Ray watched indulgently, offering occasional suggestions.

  Lucy remembered seeing a box of cocoa in the pantry. She leaned toward Banner. “Would you mind if I make hot chocolate?”

  He made a sweeping gesture toward the kitchen. “Mi casa es su casa. At least until the ice melts.”

  She gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his arm. “You're a very gracious host.”

  “I'll be even more gracious,” he countered. “I'll help you make the cocoa.”

  “You're just trying to avoid decorating.”

  He smiled, a very brief flash of white teeth against his tanned face. “You've got that right.”

  She very nearly melted into a puddle right there at his feet. All it took was a tiny little smile, she thought in bemusement. Amazing…

  He took her elbow and led her into the kitchen. By the time they'd reached the pantry, Lucy had herself under control again. Mostly.

  “Well, it's almost three o'clock,” Banner said, handing her the cocoa and sugar. “It should take an hour-at most-to decorate the tree. Then what?”

  “Then…we'll do something else,” she said with a shrug. “Games or stories or anything to keep the kids entertained until bedtime.”

  She cast a quick, furtive glance toward the doorway, makin
g sure neither of the children was within hearing range. “Joan and I were talking earlier. She has the children's Christmas presents in the trunk of her car. We were thinking maybe Santa Claus could visit here tonight so they would have gifts under the tree on Christmas morning.”

  He nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

  She giggled in response to his stoically resigned expression. “What makes you think I want you to do anything?”

  “Experience,” he answered dryly.

  She laughed again. “Poor Banner.”

  Without responding, he stepped out onto the back porch to retrieve the milk from the big cooler. “There's some melting going on,” he commented when he came back in with the milk. “The thermometer on the porch reads a few degrees above freezing.”

  “Great. Maybe we'll be able to get out of your hair tomorrow. I'm sure you'll be glad to have your house to yourself again.”

  He didn't answer, but crossed his arms over his chest and leaned one hip against the bar. “So what do you need me to do to help with Joan's kids?”

  “I don't suppose you would put on a Santa suit?”

  “Not even if my life depended on it,” he answered evenly.

  “That's pretty much what I thought,” she said, amused.

  “So, how about if you get the gifts out of Joan's trunk before it's dark and stash them somewhere close until after the kids are asleep?”

  “That I will do.”

  She sighed. “I appreciate it, of course, but I would have dearly loved to see you in a Santa suit.”

  He reached around her to turn down the heat beneath the bubbling cocoa. His arm brushed against her with the movement, sending a jolt of awareness through her.

  “Is this some sort of kinky fetish thing?” he asked in a murmur. For a moment she couldn't think what he was talking about, since his touch seemed to have temporarily emptied her mind.

  When she realized that he was displaying yet another example of his quirky humor, she managed a smile. “I've always had a thing for Santa Claus.”