by Lisa Plumley
For another thing . . .
“I’m going outside, Mom.” Zach stopped at the foot of the sofa, near the glittering family Christmas tree. He was outfitted in his puffer coat, hat, and snowboarding goggles. They were, at the moment, perched on his head atop his hat.
“Keep an eye on your brother while you’re out there,” Danielle told him automatically as he put on his goggles. “If his lips start turning blue, bring him inside, okay?”
Aiden was notoriously reluctant to quit taking part in any activity he enjoyed. Once he started, he wanted to continue. In the summer, he swam until he was wrinkled and sunburnt. In the fall, he rode his bike until his legs wouldn’t pump the pedals anymore. In the spring, he splashed in puddles until soaking wet and shivering. He had every ounce of impulsivity she lacked.
“I will.” Zach glanced outside. “Don’t you want to come?”
“Aw, that’s nice of you to invite me, sweetie, but I’ve got a little more to do here.” She glanced up from her resignation letter. “I’m not taking that job in L.A. after all.”
“Cool. That means I win ten bucks from Karlie.”
With that, her son sauntered to the door and went outside.
Left alone beside the twinkling Christmas tree lights, Danielle gazed at her letter, not really seeing it. She’d genuinely thought this Christmas would be different. She’d thought it would involve Jason. But he’d gone. He wasn’t coming back. Right now, he was probably drinking mai tais on the beach while enjoying the warm sunshine in Antigua with his family.
“Bah humbug,” she groused. “That’s not Christmas.”
Christmas in Kismet was where it was at. Even now.
Somebody ought to tell Jason that.
Somebody like her.
Galvanized by the thought, she sat up straighter.
Yes. She could do it! That was a perfectly rational excuse—er, reason—to see Jason again. As a lifetime Kismet resident, Danielle told herself, she owed it to her community not to let an outsider leave with a bad impression. She’d be a bad townie to do anything else! In fact, she should start immediately.
Feeling enlivened for the first time in two days, Danielle got up. She put down her resignation letter, then paced across her living room. From outside came boyish whoops of delight and occasional shouts of “Over here!” or “Like this!” but she knew that was typically rambunctious behavior from her little boys.
From the corner of her eye, as she passed her living room’s picture window, Danielle glimpsed one of her neighbors standing across the street. She’d been walking her beagle and had stopped on the sidewalk, probably to admire the strings of holiday lights that Jason had helped Danielle hang on the eaves.
They were certainly nice lights. As proof of that, another of her neighbors slowed his own walk, then stopped to view them, too. A passing car even putted along, its driver gawking.
It was too bad she didn’t live in the Glenrosen neighborhood, Danielle told herself. She probably could have won the holiday lights competition—if she’d had Jason’s help.
“You’re quitting your job?” Karlie blurted from behind her.
Startled, Danielle turned to face her daughter. Like Aiden and Zach, Karlie was equipped with cold-weather gear. Her snow boots dwarfed her skinny legs; her scarf trailed the floor.
As she buttoned her coat, her troubled gaze lifted to Danielle’s. “Does this mean we’re going to L.A. after all?”
“No,” Danielle assured her. “It means I’m going to start looking for a new job. A better job. Right here in Kismet.”
“Great. I owe Zach ten bucks now.” But although Karlie’s tone was typically sarcastic, her expression was undeniably relieved. She hurried over and hugged Danielle. “Thanks, Mom.”
With her daughter engulfed in her arms, Danielle blinked back a sudden onslaught of tears herself. “I didn’t know you were that dedicated to being a townie. You should have told me.”
“You’re a townie! You should have known already.”
Karlie pulled away. She gave a sentimental sniff.
They both smiled at one another. Danielle felt awash in relief. Because of her own shortsightedness, she’d almost done something that would have been disastrous for all of them.
What did she know about sunshine and surfing, anyway?
Her plans to move away had been well intentioned, but her family was better off in Kismet. She’d find a way, somehow, to give her kids enriching experiences. Maybe they’d travel more.
Karlie hooked her mittened thumb toward the door. “I’m going outside for a while,” she said. “Do you want to come too?”
“Thanks, sweetie. But I’ve got a few things to do in here.”
Like call Jason. After all, she couldn’t just hop a jet to the Caribbean. Although she wasn’t sure what time it was in Antigua, she did know she didn’t have any more time to waste.
On the verge of dialing his number, Danielle hesitated.
“What’s so fascinating outside today, anyway?” she asked.
Ordinarily, it occurred to her, all three of her children didn’t volunteer to head outside in the snow. Simultaneously.
“Oh, nothing.” Karlie waved. “See you later!”
With a nod, Danielle dialed. There was a moment of silence as the connection was made, during which she considered . . .
Had her daughter just crinkled her nose at her?
That was Karlie’s surefire tell. She was up to something. There was no doubt about it.
Frowning, Danielle strode to the armchair where she’d left her jacket. She picked it up, intending to follow Karlie outside.
“Just a minute, Karlie!” she called, hastily pulling on her boots, hunching her shoulder to hold her cell phone to her ear.
Her phone slipped. Ringing now from her living room floor, it lit up with Jason’s photo.
The sound of a “Jingle Bells” ringtone came from outside.
Confused, Danielle listened. It happened again.
Her kids didn’t have cell phones. Not yet. And Karlie . . .
. . . had almost made it to the source of that jolly sound.
Jason.
He stood, Danielle saw as she opened her front door, in the middle of her snowy yard, surrounded by various-size balls of snow and the curvy, indented snow tracks made by forming them. He was wearing a heavy-duty parka, along with a dapper scarf and knit hat, and he was frowning intently at the cell phone he’d just taken from his pocket. It was playing “Jingle Bells.”
Dazedly, Danielle stared at her ringing cell phone.
Then she stared at Jason. He was here. He’d come back.
As she watched in befuddlement, Karlie marched over to Jason. She sized him up. She examined what he’d done to their yard. She shook her head. Then she flung her arms around him.
Their hug lasted a good fifteen seconds. Karlie appeared to be squeezing for all her might. Jason appeared to be astounded.
If there’d ever been a good reason for ignoring a phone call, that was it, Danielle thought with burgeoning hopefulness. Because it was obvious that Karlie had finally decided to invite Jason into their family. Now all he had to do was accept.
“So, how good are you at building snowmen?” Jason asked Karlie as their hug ended, his voice drifting on the wintry air. “Because right now, we have a ton of different sized snowballs, but no real plan to put them all together. We need help.”
“Don’t worry.” Karlie figuratively rolled up her sleeves. “I’ve got this.” Then she tossed him a vivid, openhearted smile.
Danielle nearly wept right there. Maybe, she dared to hope, everything would be okay. Because if Jason was there, and she was there, and he was . . . putting away his phone? How dare he?
“Hey!” Danielle shouted, waggling her phone. “It’s me !”
Jason angled his head at her in confusion, and she realized the idiocy of her response. He didn’t have to pick up the phone. Not when she was standing in her doorway thirty feet from him.
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br /> As she watched Jason intently, waiting for one of them to make a move, Danielle felt her heart start to race. What if he hadn’t come back for her? What if he’d just missed the kids?
What if he’d simply wanted to build a few snowmen?
Uncertain but hopeful, she lingered in her doorway with her jacket half on and her heart in her eyes. She so wanted him.
An instant later, Jason smiled at her.
His heart, she realized, was in his eyes, too. Danielle knew it because she could feel the connectedness still stretching between them, fragile but unbroken.
He’d come back. For her. Just for her.
Well, for Karlie, Aiden, and Zach, too, but still . . .
Before Danielle even knew what she was doing, she was striding across the snowy yard, heading straight toward him.
“You called me,” Jason said as Danielle reached him.
He couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked, how sweet and hopeful and full of everything he’d ever needed. Even with her fuzzy orange jacket half on and half off, with her scarf crooked around her neck and her hat on inside out, she looked . . . perfect.
“That means I don’t get to go first,” he said.
He could tell she was confused by that. But he didn’t have time to explain about Mr. Moosby’s philosophy of someone having to go first when it came to giving each other the benefit of the doubt. Just then, all Jason had time for was her.
As Karlie busily took charge of her new snowman project, bossily directing her brothers in rolling and assembling their new snowy friends, Jason stepped closer to Danielle.
He marveled at her, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself lose her, even for a little while.
If it took everything he had, he would win her back.
“You came back.” Danielle shook her head too, appearing to marvel at him, as well. “I thought you were gone forever.”
“Gone forever?” His throat closed up. Gruffly, Jason swallowed the less-than-macho tears threatening to ambush him. “No way. Why would I leave? Especially forever?”
Danielle laughed, but she sounded choked up, too.
“Because that’s what makes sense,” she said. “You know—temp guy falls for townie girl. They have a whirlwind romance. Things fall apart. Guy leaves to go home. End of story.”
“Not our story.” Jason stepped even nearer. From across the street, the neighbors who’d stopped to watch his snowman progress—and the progress of his other project—lingered still. “Our story can go on from here, if we want it to.”
“I want it to!” Danielle searched his face as though hoping he did, too. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain. I’m sorry I didn’t handle things better. I’m sorry I ended things the way I did! I was shocked and confused, and Chip had just finished congratulating me for being a horrible person—”
“His mistake.” Jason tightened his jaw. “He’ll regret it.”
“—and I was afraid that was true, at least a little bit, and afraid that the whole town was going to feel sorry for me all over again, because I let someone make a fool of me again—”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” Jason felt desperate to make her feel better. But he knew he couldn’t. Not yet. He tried to content himself with reaching for her hand.
It almost worked. Especially when she squeezed him back.
“—and I didn’t know if I’d survive it if we broke up,” Danielle continued in a shaky but determined voice. Her gaze swerved to meet his. “But you know what? I did. I’m okay.”
Oh. Maybe he’d been the only one, Jason realized too late, who’d been devastated by their split. Was she . . . consoling him?
No, he remembered. She wanted things to go on with them.
She’d said so about twelve seconds ago.
In the silence that fell while Jason contemplated all that, Karlie’s voice burst out from across the yard, sure and steady.
“Make those snowballs bigger!” she directed her brothers. She paused long enough to cast a fond, delighted look at Jason. “We’re going to need a whole boatload of carrots. And lots and lots of buttons. Maybe some charcoal briquettes for eyes?”
As Zach and Aiden diligently went on working, Karlie nodded.
“Well?” Danielle prompted, giving Jason a nudge to his parka-covered chest. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Solemnly, Jason said, “I’m listening to you first.”
“Oh.” Her eyes sparkled at him. “Well . . . I’m done.”
“Are you sure?” Maybe this was a trick.
“This isn’t a trick. I’m sure.”
Thrilled and startled by their synchronicity, Jason smiled. He gestured to the front of the yard. “Did you see my project?”
Danielle squinted. “No. Are those . . . letters in my yard?”
“They’re wires. Bent into letter shapes. Wrapped in Christmas lights. Staked into the ground,” Jason explained.
He was, after all, famously creative and innovative.
Also, he’d had to do something while sobering up.
Danielle puzzled over them. “They’re backward.”
“They’re facing the street. Because that message is for your neighbors, friends, and everyone in town you’re worried about having made a fool of yourself in front of.” He breathed in, hoping she liked it. “It’s to tell them you didn’t.”
Squinting harder, Danielle turned her head. She studied the lights, which were just beginning to come into prominence, now that the wintry sun was falling lower in the sky. “E. L. L . . .”
Patiently, Jason waited. He really should have escorted her across the street with the amused onlookers. Mr. Moosby had been right about all of this. Jason was a rookie at true love.
Gradually, she deciphered . . . “Jason. Loves. Danielle.”
“Now everyone knows it,” he announced. “Everyone.”
She turned her shocked face to his. “Jason loves Danielle?”
If she felt that surprised, Jason realized with dawning concern, then he hadn’t done his job properly. Not yet.
“I do, you know,” he said. “I love you so much that I think someone is going to have to come up with a new word for the way I feel about you. Because it’s that big. That awe-inspiring.”
“Awe-inspiring?” She looked impressed. “Really?”
“Really.” Nodding, Jason put his hands to her cold-pinkened cheeks, then turned her face to his. He gazed into her eyes, wishing he could lose himself in them forever. “I love you more than sunshine. More than warmth. More than beer and fast cars and whoopie pies. When I met you, I knew my life had changed. In a single instant, you looked at me and you made me feel—”
“Annoyed? Bossed around? Overcharged for gas?”
“—whole,” Jason told her. “Because with you, I feel like more than myself. I feel like more than I’ve ever been. I think something, and you say it. I want something, and you give it.”
“Unless it’s time to explain,” Danielle said, “then I’m—”
Before she could apologize again, Jason stopped her.
Intently, he said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry I gave you a reason to doubt me! I swear, I never meant to do that.” Somberly, he went on gazing into her eyes, even as the crowd of neighborly onlookers slowly grew in the distance. “You have to know—because you know me—that I would never hurt you on purpose.”
Valiantly, Danielle sniffled. She nodded. “I do know that. I was just so scared! I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“I wasn’t, either,” Jason admitted roughly. “Not when I saw how hurt you were—not when I knew that I’d done that to you!” He stroked his thumb over her cheek, savoring the warmth of her beside him. He wanted it to go on and on. Preferably forever. “I want to make it up to you, if you’ll let me,” he swore. “I want to show you that I can do better. I want to devote all my time to making you happy.”
“All
your time?” Danielle gave him a teary-eyed grin, then a wink. “That could lead to some pretty . . . complete happiness.”
Her saucy look gave him renewed hope. If she wanted him for sex, she could want him for more, right? But just to make sure . . .
“I don’t mean just that way.” Mindful of the kids still building snowmen nearby, Jason shook his head. “I mean in every way. When you wake up in the morning, I want you to smile, just because you’re happy. When you go to work, I want you to do it with a grin on your face, just because you’re happy.”
“That last one is . . . going to be tricky,” Danielle began.
But Jason was on a roll. He didn’t want to stop to deal with practicalities and details. He knew they could sort out those. “When you drink eggnog, when you wrap presents, when you breathe . . . I want you to be happy. If you’re not, I’ll fix it.”
No, wait. Fixing it was bad, Jason remembered. Uh-oh.
“Unless you only want me to listen!” he assured her, feeling himself growing giddy with the joy of being near her again. “Then I’ll do that, and I’ll be awesome at it. I promise. Whatever you want, Danielle, I want to give it to you. Whatever you need, I want to bring it to you. What’s mine is yours. I’ll share it all. Everything I have and everything to come.”
“Do you happen to have a puppy butler?” Danielle inquired. “Because if such a thing exists, we’re going to need one.”
Quizzically, he frowned. “A . . . puppy butler?”
“You know, someone fancy who helps take care of puppies. If they have housebreaking experience, that would be a big plus.”
“But you don’t have any puppies.”
Danielle breathed in. “A lot has changed since you left.”