“No it isn’t,” Jory said. “You have to put yam on it so we can hang it on the tree, and you have to write on the back. You know, your name and all that. Wait here, I have some yam in my knitting bag.” She was off the chair like a whirlwind, to return a moment later with a ball of bright red yarn. She was flustered, her face flushed, her hands shaky when she snipped at the yarn. “You’re supposed to use white ink. I found some in my father’s drawer. We used toothpicks to write. I remember how hard it was. Guess my fingers were kind of fat or something.” She sounded like a babbling idiot.
Ross accepted his toothpick. He pondered his wreath before he dipped the sliver of wood into the bottle of white ink. He wrote, Christmas, 1953. And then he wrote his name. “Jesus, I got it all on here.” He looked so pleased, Jory smiled.
“I did too. You know, the dogs are still sleeping. It’s cold out here, I think we should go back to the living room and build up the fire. We’ll probably need two logs. That’s your job, Mr. Landers,” Jory said lightly.
“And one I’m capable of.” Ross grinned. God, he was having such a good time. He prayed for the snow to continue. “What are you going to do about the dogs if they have to go out when they wake up?” he called from the back porch. “They’ll get lost in the snow, its deep.”
“I’ll do what I always do when I have to go into town. You aren’t going to appreciate this, Ross,” Jory said, taking a stack of papers from the pantry to lay on the floor. “I buy them for just this purpose.” Ross howled when he looked down to see the blazing red letters rimmed in gold that spelled TIF. “In my opinion, this is the only thing it’s good for,” Jory called over her shoulder.
“It pays your rent, doesn’t it?” He was still laughing when he added a log to the dying fire. “And I think you should know the roof is leaking. You’re going to have to call someone in to fix it. My mother mentioned it early this morning.”
“I’ll put it on my list of things to do. Don’t get me started on that Landers Building, Ross. I still haven’t come to terms with Jasper’s generosity.”
The log caught fire as sparks shimmied upward. The snap-crackle of the pinecones Ross added woke the dogs. Ross watched their noses twitch as they sniffed the air. He himself felt drunk with the heady scent of the fir tree standing in the corner.
Jory lowered her voice and said in a stage whisper, “Watch this.”
Ross sat back on his heels to watch the four dogs jockey for a straight line and then trot out to the kitchen, where they sniffed every inch of the floor before they squatted on the latest edition of TIF.
Jory giggled. “I think they go by the color.”
“I’ll be damned. My mother should see this. She’d probably say the paper is good for two things, to be read and then reused, or some damn thing like that.”
“The magazine is a piece of crap, and you know it, Ross. I don’t understand how you can associate yourself with it, even if it is your family’s.”
“Don’t include my father in it. He signed it all over to my mother. He doesn’t want any part of it. In fact, I don’t like the magazine either. I’m not there on a forever basis. Temporary, at best, and then I’m going to try and get Woo to go into private practice with me. I’m simply trying to protect my mother. She doesn’t always use good judgment. I have no trouble with your feelings in regard to TIF, none at all.”
“That’s good,” Jory said stiffly. “I think it’s a crime the way those expose magazines attack people. Half the garbage they print is untrue.” Abruptly, she changed the subject: “Are you ready to decorate the tree?”
Ross smacked his hands together. “This is the first tree I’ve decorated, so if you have any pointers, now’s the time to mention them.”
“Don’t cluster the balls. Place them strategically. And the lights have to go on first. We should test them, but the electricity is out, so I guess we’ll just string them and hope for the best. You start at the top and work your way down to the bottom. There’s an extension cord here we’ll plug into, and then it will go into the plug by the fireplace. See these little gizmos? You attach them to a branch. Do you think you can handle that?”
Ross snorted. “I’ll have to stand on the hassock. I’m tall, but not that tall. Do you have an angel for the top?”
“The prettiest angel you ever saw. My father told me once that my mother made it when they first got married.”
She talked nonstop as she watched Ross string the lights. How handsome he was, how perfect this scene was. How sad that it would end by morning, when Ross would leave, never to return. She couldn’t allow him to return, she told herself. The divorce would make it all final, and to do anything else would be stepping backward. She’d come too far, worked too hard, to go backward at this point in her life. Today, this evening, was what it was, and nothing more. Tomorrow at this time it would be a memory. A Christmas memory.
“What’s wrong, Jory?” Ross asked from his position behind the tree.
“Nothing, why do you ask?”
“You look so intense. Am I doing this wrong?”
Jory smiled. “No, of course not. I was just thinking about you, about us. Tomorrow this will be a memory. A Christmas memory. Memories are always sad, don’t you think so?”
“Most of my memories are sad. My most pleasant memories are of college, law school, and visiting Woo’s family. You’re right, they’re sad now because they’re in the past. We can’t ever regain them, but I guess we make new memories every day, some good, some bad. I believe they call it life.”
Jory moved closer to the tree. “Do you know what first attracted me to you, Ross?”
Ross stopped what he was doing. “No, what?” he said hoarsely.
“You looked so vulnerable. You always appeared to be covering up something. You looked the way I felt. There you were, this tall, good-looking rich kid with the world at your feet, and there I was, this kid who only wanted to belong to someone. I thought you were the cat’s whiskers. God, I would have crawled through fire for you. When you smiled at me, I was the happiest girl in the world. Why did you let it happen, Ross?”
Ross clipped the last light onto a branch and then plugged the end into the extension cord. “I thought you were easy, and I wasn’t prepared for anything more than that. You were another notch in my belt. The sex wasn’t anything special. A release and something to brag about. I’m sorry, Jory, but I can’t lie to you. I’m sorry as hell that I was so shallow, that I used you the way I did. The plain damn truth is you were too good for me. I like to think today that somehow, some way, I knew it, and that’s why I wouldn’t let it matter. What about you?”
Something to brag about. Used. But then she’d known that. The only difference was, now Ross was putting it into words. Words she would rather not hear. “It meant something to me because I loved you as much as a seventeen-year-old could. I’d had . . . sex once, before the first time you and I did it, but I only did it so I would know what to expect. I wanted you to think I was experienced and not this dumb kid who didn’t know her ass from her elbow. I’m the first to admit that was wrong, but I didn’t know any better. I didn’t have a mother who cared or anyone to give me advice.” Her face was pink with embarrassment and shame. “I always wondered,” she mumbled.
Ross walked over to Jory and put his arm around her shoulder. “I think, and this is just my legal mind here, that we both screwed up. I didn’t know you arid you didn’t know me. It was my loss, Jory. I am just so very proud of you,” he said huskily.
My loss. Later she would have to think about what that meant. “I’m kind of proud of me too. Now, let’s get this tree decorated so we can eat. Remember, small balls on the top, bigger ones on the bottom, and the teardrops go in the front. You got that, Mr. Landers?”
“Got it, Miss Ryan.”
It was seven-thirty when the last piece of tinsel was hung on the tree. Jory beamed her approval. Ross seemed to glow, she thought, or else it was the fire lighting his face like a thousand candles.
“We do good work, Miss Ryan,” Ross said lightly.
“That we do, Mr. Landers. It is beautiful, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a pretty tree. Wait till Pete sees it in all its finery. That little branch he bought is going to look pitiful compared to this. I hope he isn’t upset. I more or less invited him to my tree trimming tonight.”
“You like Woo, don’t you?” Ross said quietly.
“It’s impossible not to like Pete. Do you know anyone who doesn’t like him?”
His answer was too quick. “My mother.”
Jory snorted. “If I remember correctly, Ross, your mother doesn’t like too many people. Besides your mother?”
Ross shook his head. “Woo is special, one of a kind.”
“Yes, he is. So, are you ready for dinner? I’m almost afraid to go into the kitchen. With the heat off, it must be freezing out there. I guess somebody has to go out there to get the dishes and the pot.”
“If I knew where everything was, I’d do it, but I don’t. I’ll go with you though. I want to see what the temperature is on the thermometer on your back porch. Is it accurate?”
A moment later she called, “Well, what’s the temperature?”
“Sixteen degrees.”
“Lord, would you look at the snow!” Jory cried as she parted the kitchen curtains. “There must be eight or nine inches.”
“It’s drifting pretty bad. I hope you have a shovel.”
“Several. They’re in the basement. I don’t want to think about that till tomorrow.”
“Jory, when was the last time you played in the snow?”
“Years and years ago, and never during a storm. Why are you asking?”
“Want to go outside and have a snowball fight? We could jump in the drifts. Look at those drifts.”
“Going outside in the snow . . . is that supposed to be therapeutic, like making the wreath?” Jory asked curiously. The blank look on Ross’s face jolted her.
“I guess so. I take it you don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Heck no, I think it’s a great idea. Let’s do it!”
It wasn’t until she was pulling on her boots that Jory realized she was doing the same thing she’d done five years ago. Anything for a smile, a pat on the head, a kind word. She took off her boots. “On second thought, Ross, it’s not such a good idea. If you want to go out in the snow, I’ll watch you from the window, but I’m not going out. Tomorrow I’ll be shoveling all day. Besides, I’m hungry and I’m cold.”
“But you said—”
Jory squared her shoulders. “I lied, Ross. Going out in the snow is the same as going backward. I don’t expect you to understand, but I understand, and that’s all that’s necessary. So,” she said, throwing her hands in the air, “do we eat or should I wait for you to play in the snow?”
Ross grimaced. This young woman with the defiant eyes standing in front of him definitely was not the Jory of old. He said so.
“Why thank you, Ross. You couldn’t have paid me a nicer compliment if you tried. I take it we’re going to eat.”
“We’re going to eat,” Ross said quietly. “I’ll light some more candles, and it might be a good idea if you bring down some blankets. We’ll move the sofa closer to the fire.”
“Let’s do both. Does that mean you’re staying here for the night and not at Pete’s?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“No, I appreciate the company,” Jory said honestly. “My life would be perfect if the dogs could talk. Some days I don’t talk to anyone. Listening to yourself talk to four dogs can get a bit tiresome.”
“But that’s by your choice.”
Jory met Ross’s disconcerting gaze. “Yes, by my choice.”
When they were finished eating, Ross burped enthusiastically and then apologized. “What about the dogs?”
“The dogs are eating the same thing. Mash it up fine and scrunch up some little pieces of bread and soak it with gravy. By morning they’ll all have the splats, but it can’t be helped.”
“What’s that?”
“That’s poop. By morning it will be all over. It happens every time I give them something strange to eat. I guess they have finicky stomachs.”
“Oh shit,” Ross muttered.
“Not to worry. I have a stack of magazines for just such an occasion,” Jory said breezily. “Gee, I wish the tree lights were on. Tomorrow I’ll wrap my presents and put them under the tree. It’ll look even nicer with presents. I bought some stuff for the dogs. Squeak toys and rawhide bones. I’m going to wrap those too. They love to play with wads of paper. I wonder why that is?” she muttered.
They were sitting side by side on the sofa, wrapped in blankets, when Ross said, “Would you mind if I kissed you?”
“Yes. Yes, I would mind.” Liar. You don’t ask a girl, if the moment is right, you kiss her.
“We could make love here in front of the fire. Sort of for old times’ sake. You are so pretty, Jory, you take my breath away.”
“That’s a tired old line, Ross, and we don’t have any old times either of us wants to remember.”
“Are you telling me you don’t feel anything right this moment?”
“As a matter of fact I do. One of the dogs is chewing the toe of my sock. It’s not going to work, Ross, so forget it.”
“You have to feel something. I feel something. The mood is right. This is the perfect setting. I’m very attracted to you, Jory.”
“Really. Well, just unattach yourself. You’re five years too late. We’re going to be divorced in two days. . . . You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you? I will not allow you to mess up my life again.”
“But you feel the same attraction, admit it. Admit it and I won’t say or do another thing. No lies, Jory.”
“You’re a handsome man, Ross. You’re rich, you have an admirable profession. What that means is you’re a wonderful catch for someone, but that someone isn’t me. My life is going forward, not backward. So cut it out!”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Ross said lazily.
“What was the question?” Jory said sourly.
“The question was, are you attracted to me?”
“No. Now are you satisfied?”
“You’re lying. You should never lie to yourself. I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Jory closed her eyes to ward off her tears. She wanted to scratch his eyes out, to scream and yell and stamp her feet. Her voice, when she managed to speak, sounded hoarse. “You have no right to say things like that to me. If you leave now, you can probably make it back to town in time for the divorce hearing on Thursday. If you freeze to death along the way, I’ll cry at your funeral. I’ll make a beautiful young widow.” Her voice was stronger now, angry and bitter-sounding.
“Jesus, you’re heartless,” Ross rasped.
“How does it feel, Ross?” she snapped.
“Is that what this is all about? You want to get back at me? Listen, damn it, I was telling you the truth. I do want to kiss you, I do want to make love to you. It wasn’t a lie. I do feel like I’m falling in love with you. So what do you have to say to that?” Ross demanded.
“Plenty. There was a time when I would have bayed at the moon to hear what you just said. I was willing to cut this clean, it was you who sought me out. I did what you wanted. You never should have come here. I cannot give you what you think you want now.” She was going to cry, could feel her throat tightening, feel the prick of tears on her eyelids. Damn him.
“I think I made a mistake. No, that’s wrong. I know I made a mistake. I’d like us to try again. Let’s forget the divorce, or at least put it on the back burner for now.”
The blanket covering Jory sailed through the air, the pillow flew backward as she leaped to her feet to stand towering over Ross. The dogs growled their disapproval at such strange goings-on. “You want to try me out, and if I don’t measure up you’ll bring the divorce to the front burner. Get the hell ou
t of my house!” Jory raged. “Now, damn you! I don’t care if you die in the snow. I don’t care if you get pneumonia. I don’t care if your body isn’t found until after the divorce. Move!” she shrieked.
“Aren’t you overreacting?” Ross said calmly. She wouldn’t throw him out, would she?
“Out!” Jory cried dramatically. “And don’t think you’re staying in the carriage house. That’s my property and I want you off my property. Get dressed before I take this poker to you,” Jory said, grabbing the fire tongs and swinging them through the air. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the dogs scamper to the tree, where they squatted and peed in unison. “And you better be in that courtroom on Thursday, even if you’re dying,” Jory shrilled. She watched as one of the dogs pooped on a piece of cellophane. A second one missed the cellophane. The third one sat on a piece of tissue paper, while the fourth rolled a pinecone across the floor with his nose.
He was going. He was pulling on her father’s boots and putting his arms through her father’s shearling jacket. She watched as he buttoned it and pulled the hood over his head. Brandishing the fire tongs, she stalked to the door and pulled it open.
“I didn’t mean that the way—”
“I don’t give a damn what you meant. Don’t tell me you didn’t mean it, you lying worm. You haven’t changed, Ross. Try me out! Like hell you’ll try me out. I wasn’t good enough for you the first time, and I’m not good enough for you now. Now leave!”
Ross felt dumbfounded. He would probably die in the damn snow. But he had the last word before the door slammed behind him. “Yes, Auntie Ann.”
“You bastard! You living, breathing bastard,” Jory shouted as she shot the dead bolt home.
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Ross called from his side of the door.
Damn him, he was laughing at her. Laughing.
Jory waited fifteen minutes before she opened the door. Ross was sitting on the steps, huddled and shaking. “I’ve never been this cold in my life,” he said, his teeth chattering.
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