Holiday Magic

by Fern Michaels

  “That’s great,” Darren said.

  Tara groaned. “And horrid. They’re way too amorous for our comfort.”

  Darren laughed. He took her hand. “It’s the island air,” he said with a wink.

  “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” she heard herself ask. What was she doing? Breaking all fling rules, that’s what. But didn’t she have a right to know? For all she knew he did have a girlfriend and she was away for Christmas.

  “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” he asked.

  “Because I live in New York,” she answered.

  “Maybe you should move,” he said. He was still holding her hand. He was kidding right? Then again, he didn’t say maybe you should move here—just maybe you should move. For all she knew he meant New Jersey. Maybe you should move to New Jersey.

  “Maybe,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I can go anywhere as long as people there like to eat.”

  He laughed again. It filled her with a wonderful, happy feeling. She loved his laugh. She loved making him laugh.

  “My legs are starting to go numb,” she said. Darren whistled and Dog shot straight up.

  “Sorry,” Darren said, looking over at her legs. “But you can’t blame the guy.”

  They sprawled out near Charles Lindberg’s grave, and ate the lunch Tara had prepared. Darren made appreciative noises, way too appreciative. Tara prayed he would stop, for his adoration was turning her on. So she changed the subject, and talked of Lindberg’s adventurous life, and the tragedy that befell him. The lesson, Tara realized, was to live your life to the fullest. Against all odds, despite all adversity. After lunch Tara was full and sleepy. They stretched out on the grass. In New York she’d be exhausted after running around the city, but this was a different type of tired—between swimming and the sun, she was tired in a floaty, happy sort of way. She fell asleep against Darren’s chest. When she woke who knows how long later, he had placed a hat over her face and his shirt over her body so she wouldn’t get burned. You’re very protective for a fling, she wanted to say, but she didn’t want him to take it the wrong way.

  “This is the life,” Tara said instead. “So peaceful. Seems so simple.”

  “It is so simple,” Darren said.

  “Not in my world,” Tara said.

  “It’s a matter of choice,” Darren said. Although it was in a gentle way, he pushed her off of him and sat up. He reached for Dog and wrapped his arms around him. “That’s why it’s just me and Dog,” he said. “Me, Dog, my truck, my odd little jobs. Once a year the Island Pole. That’s my life. Peace, baby, peace.” Something about the way he was talking set off a silent alarm in Tara. He was pulling away. They hadn’t even made love yet, and he was already pulling away. Why did men do this? Why were they moaning into your ear one minute and sailing out to sea the next? And what did she expect? He was a fling, a fling, a fling, a fling. Who, despite having them littered all over his yard, hadn’t even thought to bring condoms. Apparently, he’d never been a Boy Scout. Suddenly, her floaty feeling came in for a crash landing.

  “Do you plan on living the rest of your life this way?” she asked. The change in his eyes was immediate. Guarded.

  “Something wrong with my life?” he asked.

  “I can’t be the judge of that,” Tara said. “But we can’t all shirk our responsibilities. I mean, there are days I’d love to give up—I could move here, open some little island hut, and sell gourmet meals to tourists on the go.” Now why had she said that? She was being mean and spiteful; she could feel the negative energy flow through her. She was acting childish, just like Nadine. She’d picked up a beach bum after all, so why was she now trying to convert him? It’s not like he was coming home with her. It’s not like the fling would mean anything.

  “Why don’t you?” Darren said.

  “Why don’t I what?”

  “Move here, open an island hut, sell gourmet meals to tourists.”

  “You’re making fun.”

  “I certainly am not.” He leaned over and kissed her on the nose. “I’ve tasted your gourmet meals. I think they’d be a hit.” She couldn’t believe it. He was acting like the mature one. She was throwing a slight fit, over nothing, and he had the nerve to rise above her. She stood up.

  “You’re breaking the rules of the fling you know,” Tara said. Darren remained sitting.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t talk about your future and moving in together when you’re having a fling.”

  “I wasn’t talking about our future; I was talking about your future.”

  “Which just happens to involve moving here and setting up shop?”

  “You could move to any island and set up shop,” Darren said. He sounded logical and calm. It inflamed Tara beyond words.

  “So you don’t care one way or the other?” she said.

  “Why would I?” This time there was a defiant catch to his voice. He stared at her, as if engaging in a contest to see who would blink first. She wished they weren’t in a fight because she was dying to crawl on top of him and consummate the fling. God, he was sexy. He wasn’t a pushover either. Had she misjudged him? Just when she decided she was totally the one at fault, and was about to apologize, he stood in a huff.

  “I should’ve known from the minute you started that serial killer stuff that you were trouble.”

  “That wasn’t me—that was my mother and my sister—”

  “Same crazy gene pool.” Darren swiped the empty picnic basket off the ground and started tossing the remnants of their lunch into it.

  “Oh yeah? Well at least I don’t keep wrapped presents around for years,” Tara said. That did it. He turned and stared. She looked away first. Then, without another word, Darren headed for the truck. The descent to civilization was long, winding, and silent, anything but civilized. Even Dog didn’t sit on her lap. Darren dropped her off at the bungalow.

  “I’ll see you at the Island Pole—”

  “Forget it,” he said. “I’m replacing you.” She couldn’t believe how much his words stung. She wanted to say something to turn it all around. She should apologize. They should run to the nearest store and get condoms. Was this her fault? Didn’t he know that all day in the sun without sex could turn a woman a little crazy? They were supposed to be having fun. Earlier she’d had the best afternoon of her life. It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t. Was this really all because of a Christmas present?

  “Fine,” Tara said. Her voice echoed through her head, hollow and sad.

  “Fine,” Darren said.

  “I’m still coming to the luau though,” Tara said. “I refuse to make twelve different kinds of mashed potatoes just to satisfy Nadine.”

  “The table is all yours,” Darren said.

  “So I guess the fling is over,” Tara said. “I guess we’ve officially been flung.”

  “For once,” Darren said. “We agree.” A thin layer of red Hawaiian dust lifted into the air as he spun out of the driveway. Only Dog looked longingly back at her.

  Chapter 12

  Tara glided through the warm water. Next to her, Nadine gesticulated wildly to Tiara every time a fish swam by. Tara would have thought Tiara was too young to snorkel, but she was taking to it like—

  A fish to water.

  Tara laughed at the cliché. This was the life. She didn’t need Darren. She was snorkeling with Santa. Unfortunately, Tiara could not have cared less about the fish passing by her little face. The fat man in the red dive suit was all Tiara was pointing at. Tara wondered if it would mess with her mind, Santa and his twelve swimmers instead of twelve reindeer. Strange to think that all of this, this trip, this life, her brief love affair, all came about because of a reindeer.

  Darren was replacing her at the Island Pole. It was a relief actually, to no longer be a part of that anti-Christmas display. Even if it was a blast. Even if he did have a point about Christmas, how stressful it could be. At least they were still going to the luau. Would Darren sho
w up? Did he have anyone to spend Christmas Day with? Would he open his present, whoever it was from? Not that she cared.

  At least their parents were still having fun. So far they didn’t seem to be looking at anything but each other through their enormous goggles. What was their secret? Phil, on the other hand, was swimming like he was shackled. Poor Nadine, she was right, he was definitely not a happy camper. Nadine waved her arms at Tara, signaling they were going ashore. Sounded good to her; she’d spent precious little time on her tan. She spun around and slammed into another swimmer. Her goggles and mouthpiece slid up her face, and she struggled to right herself. The other swimmer popped up with her. It took Tara forever to finagle the goggles over her head and wipe water out of her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” a male voice asked.

  “Sorry about that,” Tara said. Finally, her eyes cleared. Darren treaded water in front of her. He didn’t seem surprised to see her, and he was looking at her with genuine concern. “Are you following me?” Tara said.

  “What?” Darren said.

  “You’re—snorkel stalking me!”

  “I’m snorkel stalking you?”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Gee—I don’t know—maybe I microchipped you.”

  “Are you here to apologize?” Oh, please be here to apologize, she thought. She didn’t want the fling to end. She was also dying to go back to the Island Pole. How could she not like it? Every evening had been filled with laughter. And Darren. Every evening had been filled with Darren.

  “No,” Darren said. “I’m not here to apologize.” Suddenly, another swimmer popped up next to Darren. Tara was taken aback by the size of the woman’s chest. In fact she was surprised the woman could swim at all. With those jugs it looked as if she would simply float. Then the woman removed her goggles, and Tara was devastated to see that she had a face that might actually encourage people to glance away from her chest.

  “What happened to you?” the woman asked Darren. Then she flashed Tara a huge smile. Tara wanted to bite her.

  “Just got caught in traffic,” Darren said. The woman continued to smile as Tara and Darren glared at each other.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” the woman asked.

  “No,” Darren said. Then he put his hand on the busty beauty’s shoulder and steered her away.

  “Did you see that bimbo he was with?” Tara said.

  “There’s something wrong with that man,” Nadine said.

  “Thank you.”

  “I mean who makes a Christmas village that won’t allow children?”

  “And who dates a bimbo over me, right?”

  “Something must have happened to warp that man’s mind,” Nadine said.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m still talking about the village.” Everyone was laid out in the condo, exhausted, full, and slightly sunburned. For once their parents were acting like normal people and barely looking at or talking to each other. Tara and Nadine were sitting on the patio watching the sun set. Nadine lifted her index finger and shook it at Tara. “I bet it has something to do with that Christmas present you found,” she said. Nadine had that tone in her voice. The one that organized birthday parties, baby showers, and Christmas dinners for twelve-hundred. Tara shrugged.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Tara said. “It’s over.”

  “I think he’s a good soul,” Nadine said. “He just needs a little guardian angel to guide him.”

  “Nadine.”

  “We need to find out what’s in that Christmas present.”

  “We need to forget about it,” Tara said. “No,” she revised. “We are going to forget about it. We have forgotten about it.”

  Nadine and Tara crouched in Darren’s front yard. The darkness was starting to settle, the Christmas lights glowed, and a happy din rose from the revelers.

  “It sounds like a huge party,” Nadine said.

  “I told you,” Tara said. “It’s like this every night.”

  “Heathens,” Nadine said, craning her neck to see if she could get a look around the corner of the house.

  “It’s not that bad,” Tara said. “I’ll show you.”

  “Should we sneak into the house before or after?” Nadine said.

  “I told you—we’re not doing that. We’ll tour the village, and then we’re going home. I am not breaking into Darren’s Christmas present.”

  The last time Nadine had only stayed at the Island Pole long enough to see Tara. This time she was given the full tour. They saw Santa frolicking with bikini-clad women, elves making naughty toys, and carolers singing Christmas songs with a twist. Tara was hoping the When Reindeers ATTACK exhibit would be closed. Instead, she’d indeed been replaced. By the snorkeling bimbo. Tara grabbed Nadine’s arm.

  “It’s Big Boobs,” she hissed into her ear. Nadine watched as the busty blonde put her wrist into the reindeer’s mouth and screamed. Nadine let out a genuine laugh.

  “Is that supposed to be you?” she said. “Oh God, that’s funny.”

  “It is not funny,” Tara said. She also let out a small laugh, then tried to reign it in, then laughed again. Soon she and Nadine were giggling like schoolgirls.

  “Where is that man?” Nadine said. “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

  “Excuse me,” Tara said to her replacement. “Do you know where Darren is?”

  “He’s away somewhere,” the bimbo said. She took her hand out of the reindeer’s mouth, then stuck it back in and commenced screaming.

  “She’s very professional,” Nadine said.

  “It’s actually the other wrist,” Tara told the bimbo.

  They stood in Darren’s living room.

  “This isn’t right,” Tara said.

  “Look,” Nadine said. “I’m a pregnant woman. Nobody would blame me for coming in to use the restroom.”

  “So go use it.”

  “And if I happen to accidentally open the door to the closet instead of the bathroom—” Nadine marched over and yanked open the closet door. The present was right where Tara first found it. Nadine dropped to the floor and began removing items from her purse like a cat burglar preparing to pop open a safe. She pulled out a pair of scissors, tape, and a pair of black gloves.

  “Aren’t you overdoing it a little bit?” Tara said as Nadine donned the gloves.

  “They can get fingerprints off anything nowadays,” Nadine said.

  “And are your fingerprints in an FBI database?” Tara asked. “For what? Public displays of excessive Christmas spirit?”

  “Just shut up and keep watch,” Nadine said. “Is anyone coming?”

  “Just a couple of elves,” Tara said. Nadine glared at her. “Just do it,” Tara said.

  “Okay—operation open present underway.” Nadine reached up, and took down the gift, then gingerly set it on the floor. She turned it over and examined every nook and cranny. Then she removed a large magnifying glass from her purse and held the present up to her enlarged eye.

  “All right, Susie Sleuth,” Tara said. “Hurry up.” Nadine took out a letter opener. Effortlessly she sliced open the present. Tara knelt down next to her sister and peered at the contents of the gift.

  “A baseball mitt?” she said as Nadine held it up.

  “This wouldn’t even fit my hand,” Nadine said. “It’s a child’s mitt.” A piece of paper flew out of the mitt and fluttered to the ground. “Pick it up,” Nadine hissed. “Pick it up.” It was a letter. “Read it,” Nadine barked. “Operation read it!” Tara took a minute to pinch her sister, and then implemented Operation Read It.

  My Dearest Darren,

  You are my world. I wish I could be there to hold you forever, but since I can’t, let this glove wrap you in my love and warmth whenever you wear it. And don’t even think of dropping out of baseball, because you are going to hit many home runs this year. I close my eyes and think of all the “catches” you will make with this glove, and all that you will accomplish in you
r life. You are my brave, strong boy. I know you will be sad, but you can do this. Do it for me. Be happy for me. Live your best life for me. Merry Christmas, my darling. I know this will be difficult, your first Christmas without me. Be brave. I want you to be happy, and I promise you, I will be with you always and forever, and may you catch the whole world in your hands.

  Merry Christmas now and forever,

  All my love,

  Your Mom (for always and forever)

  Tears dripped down Tara’s cheeks. Nadine was crying too, and making little gasps after each sentence. They read it again.

  “He’s never read this,” Nadine said. “He never even opened it.”

  “We shouldn’t have either,” Tara said. “I can’t believe we’ve done this.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” Nadine said. “We were guided to open this.”

  “Guided?”

  “By his mother,” Nadine whisper-yelled, pointing at the ceiling. “She wanted us to find this so we can get Blockhead to finally open it and stop perverting Christmas!” Nadine was practically glowing, a feverish twinkle sparked out of her tear-filled eyes. “Did he grow up without a father too?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “She doesn’t mention him. I’ll bet he did. He was an orphan.”

  “Like Pip,” Tara said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Hurry and wrap it back up.”

  “We have to do something.”

  “We will. Just—wrap it.” A door slammed behind them. It sounded like a gunshot. Tara and Nadine whipped their heads around. The bimbo stood in the doorway. Her giant boobs glowed in the aftermath of the Christmas lights.

  “You could light Santa’s sleigh with those babies,” Tara whispered to Nadine.