Later in the day, Caty, Helen, and Billy showed up to decorate the tree. Marti felt like a kid, stringing fresh popcorn and twirling it around the tree. Dinner was eggnog, tarts and fried cheese. Helen snapped a picture of Jesse wrapping his arms around Marti’s waist and lifting her up high to put the angel atop the tree.
Bumpus even got into the act, fetching the red velvet balls that got knocked off the tree and rolled away. Marti tied a red ribbon around his neck, although it dangled upside down beneath his chin most of the time. And hell’s bells, they even had country Christmas music, but she could live with that. Nothing was going to spoil her evening.
Except Billy. Melancholy tinged his smiles, and sometimes she caught him staring off. She remembered his boys, celebrating Christmas without their father. He had made mistakes, but he still deserved his kids for the holidays. Marti involuntarily put her hand on the small mound of her stomach. This baby, she knew, would never be without his father.
She found Billy standing in the kitchen alone, looking out the window. His wispy hair stuck out in places, reaching way past his collar. He was always either quiet or making jokes, and those wild, beady eyes of his fit both personas. She had all but ruled him out as her attacker.
Marti had never quite connected with him, as she had with the other Wests. Most of the time, she wasn’t bothered, but watching him standing there like a lost boy made her approach him. The part of her that said go back to the fun and forget about his problems lost out to this new side of her.
“Billy?” she said softly.
He turned. “Nice night out, huh?”
“I’m sure they miss you as much as you miss them.”
He rubbed his nose, looking away. “I wasn’t....” Then he met her eyes and shrugged. “I hope so. How’d you know I was thinking ‘bout my boys?”
She put her hand to her belly. “Woman’s intuition. We’ve got a box of tinsel out there that we could sure use your help with.”
Jesse’s expression was one of curiosity when she and Billy walked out of the kitchen together, sharing a private smile. Let him wonder, she thought with a grin.
After every inch of Jesse and Marti’s tree was duly covered with ornaments, everyone packed up the food and eggnog and drove over to Billy’s to decorate his tiny tree (because Jesse insisted that he have one), and then to Helen and Caty’s house. Even though it wasn’t exactly frosty outside, Jesse lit the fireplace. Billy lifted Caty up to top the tree with a sparkling star. By the time their tree looked as merry as everyone else’s had, exhaustion claimed Marti. She glanced at the clock: nearly midnight. Almost Christmas.
Billy settled in for a night on the recliner. Jesse was sprawled out on the couch, his bare feet resting on the arm at one end. Helen had retired some time ago. Christmas music floated faintly on the air. After throwing scraps of wrapping paper away, Marti sat down on the floor in front of Jesse. He looked like a sleepy-eyed boy with his head resting on his hand.
“Did you have fun?” he whispered, trying not to wake the others.
Marti didn’t have to worry about whispering. Her voice was still soft and raspy. “Yes, I did.”
He glanced toward the tree where Caty shifted in her sleep in front of the fireplace. “When we were kids, we used to sleep under the tree every Christmas Eve. Even after we knew there wasn’t a Santy Claus (that’s what we used to call him) and Mom and Dad put the presents underneath early, we still spent the night there.”
His eyes sparkled with the reflection of the flames. “Pa used to try to talk us into going to bed ‘or else Santy Claus won’t come for you’ he’d say. That’s when we believed. The three of us would conspire to go to bed, then get up and meet under the tree. And we did, although one time Caty fell asleep and didn’t come down. She was mad because we didn’t come get her, but we didn’t want Pa catching us.”
Marti watched the amber glow of the fire dance across his features. “Did Santy come?”
“Yes, he did. We were usually asleep when Santy Pa did his thing. One time we stayed up late, and you know what? My pa actually dressed up in his Santy costume before he came downstairs. Billy and I had already figured out by then that Santy was pa, but we didn’t want to spoil it for Caty. She was so cute, her eyes were this big.” He gestured with his finger and thumb, then glanced Caty’s way again. “I’d feel silly sleeping under the Christmas tree now, and so would Billy, I’m sure. But Caty looks just right down there, like she did when she was six. Hey, what’s wrong?”
Marti snapped out of the mental pictures she’d conjured of the Wests’s Christmases. She didn’t even realize tears had been slipping down her cheeks until Jesse reached out and wiped one away with his thumb.
“I wish you could give me your memories for Christmas. They sound so wonderful.”
He pulled her close. “I can share mine with you.”
“You are,” she said, her voice a squeaky whisper.
What is wrong with me? she thought as they drove back home. This was Christmas Eve, and thousands of lights cheerily lit the town. She stared out the window and hoped he couldn’t see the silly tears that continued to flow. But she knew what was wrong. Christmases without Santy Clauses and family and lots of presents were normal for her. Then, when she got older, watching people trying to outdo one another with the most expensive presents.
Everything she’d been told ‘was just on the television’ had really been happening at Jesse’s house. The warmth and love and sharing—it had been going on without her.
When they got home, she went in ahead of Jessie, and by the time he got inside, she was standing by the Christmas tree, a pillow in each hand, blanket on the floor.
Her nose all stuffed up, she sounded like the little girl she wished she was. “Will you sleep with me under the tree?”
He took the pillows from her, laying them down side by side. After stripping off his shirt, he took her hand and pulled her down. He tucked her hair behind her ears, his gaze never leaving hers. That made her stomach tickle, so she lay on her back, looking up at the glittering tree. Her pulse started racing when he leaned down over her.
“Why are you still crying?” he asked in a soft voice.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. For everything, for nothing.”
He looked at her for a few moments. “What can I do to make them go away?”
Her lips twitched. Tell him, Marti.
No.
Tell him. “Hold me.”
Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms. She nestled her mouth on his bare shoulder, her arms slipping around him as if they belonged there. She realized that she’d wanted this for a long time. Her hands were splayed against his back, and she fought an urge to run her fingers through his hair.
After a moment, he pulled back a few inches and looked at her. His finger trailed down the tracks her tears were leaving.
“You’re still crying.”
She managed a laugh. “Happy tears.”
Jesse leaned close and kissed the tears from her cheeks. He looked angelic, with the colored lights setting off his hair and the planes of his face. Her heart pounded, in fear and excitement.
He seemed to watch her warring emotions. His broad shoulders looked strong, and at the same time soft and creamy in the blinking ambers, blues, and greens. She remembered, for a dreamy moment, what his mouth tasted like, wondered what his body might feel like lying next to hers naked, holding her close through the night. All that warmth and affection in him might pour into her, and fill her with it.
Was it a dream, his lips grazing hers and then capturing her mouth? No, wonderfully, deliciously real. She drowned, lost in the swirl of lights and the dazzling brilliance of his kisses.
She backed up and sucked in a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “Is that your cure for crying? To kiss a girl senseless?”
One side of his mouth quirked up. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Like a charm.”
She dropped back down on the blanket. She r
emembered his earlier words and tried to lighten the mood that threatened to crush her under its weight. “Do you feel silly, sleeping under the tree?”
The grin she hoped would materialize didn’t. “Silly isn’t quite the word I would use.”
What then? Disappointment? Uneasiness? Her heart raced as his gaze stayed locked to hers.
“Do you want to leave?” she asked.
“No.”
She smiled, snuggling under the blanket. Leave it at that.
“Merry Christmas, Marti,” he said, pulling the blanket over his shoulder and closing his eyes.
Great. She didn’t want to cry anymore. Now she wanted to jump him. “Merry Christmas, Jesse.”
The crinkling sound of Bumpus sniffing around the presents under the tree woke Jesse. He glanced at the clock: almost seven thirty Christmas morning. He rolled over to see if Marti was awake. She wasn’t. Her left hand was tucked beneath her pillow, and her right hand rested between them, as though she’d tried to reach out for him in her sleep.
The wan glow of the lights barely reflected on Marti’s skin. He watched her for a few minutes, wondering about the woman who sometimes seemed like a little girl. Now he understood better what her past was like and how it differed from his. Her loss touched him.
That wasn’t why he’d kissed away her tears. Not pity, but out of a deep desire to take away her pain. He didn’t even want to think about why he’d kissed her mouth, why he’d kept on kissing her. It hadn’t been the same as that night when the first Marti had leaned over and kissed him, and they’d made love because he’d felt sorry for her. Still, he was going to make sure he didn’t confuse what was obviously a big brother feeling for anything more than that.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him, then around her in confusion. She smiled when she saw the tree. “It’s Christmas.”
As though she suddenly remembered their kiss, her gaze shifted away and her cheeks flushed. He threw off the blanket and stretched, aware of the thousand goosebumps that rose on his bare chest when the chilly air hit.
She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and sat looking up at the tree. “It’s so beautiful,” she said, an almost reverent smile on her face.
“Haven’t you had a Christmas tree before?”
“Yes, but not a real one. My mother had an old silver tree, made from tinsel. She only put red and green balls on it, nothing else. Especially not pretty ones like you have, with the trim and beads and bits of jewelry.”
He looked at the pile of presents. “I’ve always packed up all the gifts and taken them over to my mom’s. What do you want to do?”
She shrugged. “Let’s keep with tradition.”
They both took showers and bundled the packages in the back of Jesse’s truck. The sun was shining, and the chill in the air was giving way to a comfortable warmth.
The Christmas music blared from Helen’s white house when they pulled up, and even Bumpus hesitated before approaching. Trick and Treat quickly persuaded him to start trotting toward the back of the house.
“Hey, Bumpus,” Jesse called out. “Merry Christmas.”
He handed the dog a bone-shaped present, which he quickly ripped open. Trick and Treat each got one, too. Within a few minutes, all three dogs had decided they wanted the other’s bone and were chasing each other around the yard. He was surprised to see Marti pull out a little bag of beefy bits, open it, and give one to Bumpus. Of course, the other two raced over.
She gave him a funny smile. “I’m starting with the dog. Sort of.” She kept her fingers far from the slobbering dog mouths waiting for the next treat she pulled from the bag.
He laughed and shook his head, wondering again exactly who this woman was as he opened the front door with the three fingers he had available. Both he and Marti were loaded down with bags. The warm air, mixed with the aroma of baking ham, made his mouth water. Marti stepped inside, and as soon as Jesse followed, Caty’s holler stopped them.
“Wait a minute,” she said, holding her hand out like a crossing guard. Then she pointed up, an impish grin on her face. “Mistletoe.”
Caty skipped into the kitchen, leaving Marti to awkwardly turn to Jesse.
He shrugged one shoulder. “You heard her.”
Marti stepped a few inches forward, and he leaned across the bags. When their lips touched, a spark of static electricity popped, and they jerked apart again.
He glanced up at the mistletoe. “Wow, did you feel that?”
She nodded, fingers over her lips. “What was that?”
“Static electricity. Or...” Something more?
“I’m sure that’s all it was.”
“Yeah.”
“Definitely.” She followed behind, hidden behind the big paper bag she carried.
Billy was still in the recliner. Jesse doubted he’d moved all night.
“Merry Christmas, Billy. Did you call the boys yet?”
Billy wiped his hand down his face, scratching his nose in the process. “Wasn’t sure they’d be up yet.”
“Of course they’ll be up. They’re kids, aren’t they?”
Jesse set the recliner straight with his foot, throwing Billy forward. “Call ‘em now.”
Helen emerged from the kitchen. “Merry Christmas, you two!”
Marti gave Helen a sincere hug, closing her eyes as though she were savoring it. His mother seemed particularly sentimental this year. Boy, holidays sure did strange things to women.
“Let’s open presents!” Caty shouted.
In West tradition, Caty passed out presents Santy Claus style, giving each of hers a little shake. Nobody opened their presents until the last one was given out. Marti seemed to get redder and redder every time Caty handed her a present. Had she realized there wasn’t one under there from him?
She seemed more preoccupied with the presents she’d given than the ones piled in front of her. Helen opened up a box filled with sheets and material.
Marti said, “You asked me to redecorate your windows like I did with the baby’s room. I thought the pink and beige material would go great in here, and we could do your bedroom in the teal and maroon. The sheets are for your bed.” When Caty opened up a veterinarian reference book from Marti, she explained, “I thought that would help with college. And Billy, I thought you could use a new set of horseshoes. If you look on each one, they engraved ‘Billy the Kidd West’ on top.”
Billy’s expression was a mixture of confusion and guilt. In his usual show of thoughtfulness, he’d given everybody an assortment of sausage and cheese from the mail order catalog.
Jesse saved opening the presents from Marti for last. By the time he turned to the two medium boxes wrapped in red and gold paper, everybody was throwing their scraps of paper in one of the empty boxes.
“Open that one first,” she said, a glow on her features.
He unwrapped a pair of the most beautiful boots he had ever seen. Made from ostrich skin, they were a rich gray color covered in bumps. What was she thinking, spending her California money on him?
“Wow, they’re terrific.”
Her smile lit up her face. “Open the other box now.”
Inside was a felt gray hat with a matching ostrich skin band.
“For your next cowboy mood,” she said, but her smile wilted. “You don’t like them, do you?”
“I love them, thank you.” It made him feel funny that she’d obviously gone to a lot of thought and expense on his behalf. He pointed to the box brimming with scraps of wrapping paper and shipping popcorn. “See that big box there.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “The garbage box?”
“Yep. Your present is in there.”
Everyone smiled, but she was still confused. “But that was Caty’s box.”
“I put something in there for you, too.”
She gave him an indignant look. “You mean I have to dig for it?”
Everyone nodded, holding back their laughter. Marti must have figured out he wasn’t kid
ding. With a resigned huff, she crawled over to the box and started digging through the wads of paper. When she gave Jesse a look of exasperation, he nodded.
“It’s in there, I promise.”
“We do this to someone every year,” Caty said. “You’re the victim this year.”
Marti smiled wistfully at those words. With more vigor, she jammed her hands deep down and pulled out a small box wrapped in purple paper.
She opened it slowly and pulled out the gold chain and looked at the heart that dangled at the bottom. It rested in her palm as she read the name ‘Marti’ spelled out in raised letters in the middle of the heart. Before she had a chance to look at him, he said, “Read the back.”
In tiny writing he’d had the jeweler inscribe, ‘Love from your West family—J, K, H, B, and B.”
She closed it tightly in her palm, then looked at him. “Who’s the last B?”
“Baby. If it’s a girl, I’ll name her Annabelle. If it’s a boy, Eli. I just decided to keep it simple on the heart.”
“Thank you, Jesse. It’s beautiful.”
Beautiful like you, he wanted to say. Sitting there with your face aglow because everybody loved your gifts. She looked like an angel, next to the tree with the colored lights setting off her blonde hair. For the second time in a month, their gazes locked, and the room and everybody in it fell away to leave only them. There were so many sides to the woman who carried his child: insecure, child-like, sad, confident, sassy, and sometimes selfish. And when she was gone, he would look at their baby and wonder where she was and how she was doing. Even though it was better for both of them that she was leaving, he would miss her, he realized.
Then the dogs started barking, breaking the trance. Dean knocked on the door and brought in new presents for everyone, getting a few of his own to open. Jesse saw his kid sister blush for the first time when she opened the small box containing an emerald ring, her birthstone. She stammered a thank you and didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Jesse knew she didn’t want to encounter hmm expressions on his and Billy’s faces.
Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) Page 13