“Kate? Katie, girl.” Casey’s voice intruded.
“I’m sorry, what?” She looked at him blinking and noticed he and Bertie standing and gathering empty plates. “Pardon?”
“By God, where’ve you been, girl? I was saying go wit’ Michelle and see the kiddies until we gets the dishes done.”
“Oh, no.” She stood up. “I’ll help, of course.”
“No, you won’t. Go on wit’ you.” Casey led her away from the table. “You too, Simon, boy. No dishes for you, either.” He ushered Will and Bruce toward the kitchen. “C’mon boys.”
Simon shrugged and, slipping his fingers between hers, gently pulled her along behind Michelle, ducking through a door in the hall. Down a narrow staircase opened a carpeted basement room brightly lit and scattered with colourful toys. The children sat side-by-side watching the end of The Santa Clause, the littlest girl half asleep.
Michelle stooped to pick up her daughter, who curled against her neck, and she sat down in a nearby armchair.
“Daddy!” said Maddie jumping up. “Is it time for ice cream?”
“Not yet, sweetie. Dishes first.” He lifted her and gave her a kiss, setting her down again.
“Awww.” She assumed a serious expression, her cupid’s bow mouth pouting at Kate. “Did you like Daddy’s dinner?”
“I sure did. He’s a very good cook, isn’t he?” said Kate.
“S’pose. I don’t like Thai food. It’s smelly. Wait ‘til tomorrow. He’s making turkey.”
“Oh. Well I’m sure that will… be very… ” Madison turned away to speak with Michelle, instantly forgetting her. She shook her head, smiling after her.
“Why don’t you stay?” Simon hesitated, wincing. “Unless you have plans, of course. Join us tomorrow too. It would be just us and Will,” he whispered.
“I couldn’t intrude. Really, I…”
“Please.” His eyes lit up and he lowered his voice, a sudden heat evident in both. She looked into eyes that burned into hers, the vivid blue shadowing to cobalt under his earnest brows.
She sucked in a breath. “Oh, I…” She turned her head to the side. Her response was visceral and immediate, heat arrowing through her core at his suggestion. She felt a shudder run through her. Her lips felt dry, and she swallowed, licking them. What was she supposed to say? Yes, I’d love to sleep with you again? She shot a nervous glance over at Michelle, who was animatedly talking with the children about the movie they’d watched.
Simon raised a hand to smooth his brow. “I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. But stay until the others are gone, please?” Color rose into his neck and ears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay.” Kate felt herself flush, raising a hand to cover her face. “I… I…” She felt ridiculous and giggled stupidly. Oh my God! This was it. She couldn’t hide any longer. She wanted so desperately to love him. She did love him. She respected and admired him more than any other person she had ever known. And he was lonely and vulnerable too, just like her. She knew that now. She also knew she could trust him not to hurt her, not to reject her again. Not intentionally anyway.
“Quite frankly, I can’t wait for them all to leave,” he whispered, stroking her cheek with his knuckles, his eyes lowered to her mouth, “…so we can be alone.” An expression of self-deprecating exasperation flickered across his face and made her laugh.
He turned away and dropped to the floor next to the little boy with glasses strapped to his shorn head, leaving her standing helplessly, thinking about the kiss that wasn’t, her lips tingling with need. “So, Jack. What will Santa be bringing you in the morning?”
Jack threw himself onto Simon’s lap. “Pirates!”
“Arrh, pirates?”
“Lotsa pirates. An’ a big pirate ship. And a dead-man’s skeleton and a monkey that climbs up to the top of the mast.”
Simon laughed. “Is that so? What else?”
“A package that come from me Aunty Sheryl. But I already know it’s a knitted sweater. T'is same every year.” Jack shook his head sadly, and Simon’s expression of sympathy hid his amusement well enough.
Kate squatted down next to them. “How about you Emma? What's Santa bringing you?” Kate shot a glance at Michelle, who smiled and gave Emma a little squeeze of encouragement.
Emma squinted suspiciously then appeared to decide Kate was trustworthy. She slid off her mother’s lap and waddled over, leaning toward Kate, pressing her pudgy hand to Kate’s cheek and whispering loudly in her ear. “Ith a thecret. I getting a baby.” She backed away grinning, her eyes wide with anticipation.
“My goodness, aren’t you a lucky girl?” said Kate, as Emma turned and sat down on her bent knee. She couldn't help thinking how lucky Michelle was to have two beautiful plump children.
“Do you haf a baby?” asked Emma, gazing up at Kate in fascination.
“Um. No, I don’t. But I’d sure like one some day,” Kate said, and realized how true this was, hugging the tiny, adorable Emma and deeply inhaling her sweet vanilla-scented hair. Oh, yes, I do!
“You kids wait right here. I think there’s one more present for you here somewhere.” Simon rose and went to a cupboard, returning with two brightly wrapped packages and handing them to Jack and Emma, who squealed with delight.
“Oh, Simon, you spoil them,” said Michelle.
Simon waved her objections away and wagged a finger at the children. “You can’t open them until morning. And don’t forget to write your aunt Sheryl a thank you note. She makes those sweaters for you with her own hands and she loves you both a lot.”
“Yes, Uncle Simon.”
Kate exchanged a knowing glance and smile with Michelle, who cast fond appreciative eyes in Simon’s direction.
“Anyone down there ready for ice cream?” Casey’s call from above was met by a chorus of cheers and they thumped upstairs after the children.
~*~
It wasn’t long before Will and Michelle were helping Simon serve dishes of fried bananas and coconut ice cream, to the delight of the children and sighs of satisfaction from the adults. He called them Thai banana splits.
Simon shifted to a chair next to Kate, forcing everyone to shuffle, and sat watching her eat while slowly sipping his coffee, seemingly preoccupied with sprinkling toasted coconut on his ice cream.
He checked in with her often, to see if she liked her desert, to ask if she wanted more tea, as she chatted about her travels with Bertie and Alexa. Kate’s thoughts were in turmoil, trying to come to terms with both past and present. Every time she caught him gazing at her, she felt her face flush and pulled her eyes away.
“Si-mon, boy.”
He dragged his eyes from Kate to respond to Casey. “Hmh?”
Casey simply looked at him questioningly, let his eyes slide over to Kate, and back again. She felt herself blush. Were they that conspicuous? Shaking his head, his teasing smile spoke volumes. “Ar, what are we going to do with you?”
Simon blinked. “Did you… ”
“Never you mind, then. I was asking for the peanuts, but it seems you’ve got your head wrapped up in other t’ings.”
Lily, Will’s shy date, a student from Hong Kong, passed the peanuts over, an unspoken question in her eyes.
“His head’s in his pants, if you ask me,” said Bruce, to guffaws of laughter from the men.
“Leave him. I think it’s adorable,” said Michelle.
“Enough,” hissed Simon, his ears burning bright red, glancing again at Kate, who’s face heated at hearing the lewd comment, despite assiduously pretending she hadn’t. “That’s enough of that.” He pressed his lips together, chagrinned.
Casey threw his head back and slapped his thigh, letting out a whoop of delight. He peered closely at them again, grinning. “There’s another explanation, boy.”
Simon’s smile failed him, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down as he swallowed.
Michelle saved him. “Let’s do the gift exchange now.”
&
nbsp; Simon heaved a sigh and stood up, now avoiding Kate’s eyes. “Great idea!”
They all shifted into the living room, some with drinks in hand, where Michelle had laid out a number of brightly wrapped packages in odd shapes and sizes on the coffee table.
“Oh, you didn’t tell us about this,” Kate moaned.
Michelle explained, “It’s a tradition for everyone to bring a small, inexpensive, and preferably amusing gift without labels, which we then randomly choose–"
"And ruthlessly trade,” cut in Bruce.
Simon gave her elbow a squeeze as she passed by. “Don’t worry. We always throw in extras.”
“But beware,” warned Will. “Being a rookie will not spare you from ridicule.”
“I should say not,” chuckled Bertie, sinking heavily onto the sofa beside Kate and giving her arm a friendly pinch. “Ooh, my back. Think of it as a test of your mettle.”
Casey shook a matted Canucks toque, passing it around so everyone could draw small numbered pieces of paper from it, while Michelle attempted to explain the rules of trading with numerous interruptions from Will and Bruce as they argued the finer points.
“It’s all in fun. And it ends in mayhem every year regardless of the rules,” said Simon, who nestled a drowsy Maddie on his knee. Kate studied the cozy pair discretely from under her lashes, still astonished at the sight of Simon as a nurturing father.
“Can I play too, Daddy?” came Madison’s halfhearted plea.
Simon pressed a kiss on her soft flushed cheek and held her closer, whispering into her curls. “You’ll get your presents in the morning.”
“Alright. Who’s first?” asked Michelle.
“Tis me,” replied Casey stepping forward, and drawing a small rectangular package. He withdrew a book and read the cover. “Ar. ‘Tis a wee book of Haiku’s by… uh… Koba… uh … yashi Issa.”
“Oh, read one,” urged Alexa.
Casey flipped the pages, scanning and considering his options. “Truth be told there’s many t’ings I understand, but poetry isn’t one of ‘em. Here: ‘love-struck cat/down into Wolf Valley/he goes.’” He screwed up his face.
“Oh, that’s easy. The cat will risk everything in search of love,” Lily said.
Bertie said,“And since I’ve got number two, I’ll take it from you. I do enjoy haiku.” Kate watched this trade with interest as Casey stood to choose another gift from the pile. This time it was a package of caramel corn.
“Look out Casey. I’ve got number eight, so if nothing better turns up, you might still lose it to my sweet tooth.” Simon grinned and slowly eased from his chair with a now sleeping Maddie drooping in his arms. He bent and laid her gently beside the Christmas tree, propping her head up on a cushion and tucking a throw over her. Kate observed his caring ministrations with wistful interest and was surprised to see him slip from the room as Bruce stood up.
“I’m next,” Bruce said, picking up a small flat package. His face screwed up as he opened it, puzzling over its contents. He looked up, shrugging, and handed it to Lily, who sat nearby. “You’re the expert.”
Bertie rocked and rose stiffly. “Ah, too much sitting for me. Excuse me.” As Kate watched, Bertie hobbled out to the hall assisted by a walking stick, her broad hips causing her peasant skirt to swirl. Simon returned and leaned in the doorway.
“Ah.” Lily nodded sagely, speaking with her thick Chinese accent. “Very lucky gift. This Ho Shou Wu. Ancient ‘elixir of life’. Mix this with wine and is very rejuvenating. It restore youth, make hair grow long and black and also improve virility. Very valuable.”
There was a general chorus of laughter. Simon slumped into Bertie’s spot next to Kate, sliding his arm over her shoulders and sinking down into the cushions. Warmth suffused her and longing to curl into him like a cat, she glanced around to see if anyone had noticed their comfortable intimacy.
“That’ll help with the beer belly, old man.”
“Be nice,” protested Bruce.
“Not to mention with the ladies,” Michelle said.
“Who said I needed any help?” Bruce rebuffed, scowling.
Lily turned the package over in her hand. “Is tempting to take it from you, but I think you need more.” She nodded soberly and handed it back to Bruce with a twinkle in her dark eyes, getting into to spirit of the game.
Simon slipped a folded piece of paper into Kate’s open hand. “Remember this?” he whispered into her hair, and she shivered as his warm breath tickled her neck.
Looking up, she saw his earnest expression and shy smile. Curious, she unfolded the paper. Three handwritten lines that seemed strangely familiar lay scrawled on the old scrap of foolscap. She silently read, ‘Dewdrop licks petal/dusky eyes reflect my soul/moonlight touches us.’ Her heart lurched as the memory of his romantic haiku, scribed one romantic night during their long ago affair, flooded back and, drawing a sudden breath, her eyes darted up to find Simon watching her intently. “You kept this?”
He nodded.
Their eyes locked for long moments, during which nothing existed but their shared memories and she was filled with a sense of longing and, at heart, belonging. He reached to caress her arm with his free hand, leaving it there, and tucked his head down to kiss her cheek tenderly. She felt tears welling and burning at her eyelids and blinked them away, biting her lip. Simon smiled contentedly and drew his eyes away, snuggling closer to her and squeezing her shoulder.
Lily opened a large flat box, frowning slightly.
“Oh! It’s a vintage classic Twister game!” Michelle shouted. “I used to just love that. Perhaps you’re too young to remember, Lily.”
“I guess I’m next,” Alexa stood up, finger to her cheek, perusing her options. “Here, this one’s got my name written all over it.” She picked up a perfect cube and ripped it open. She opened the box and withdrew a sphere. “You see? One architectonic shape inside another.”
“It’s a Magic 8-ball! Here, here, let me see it,” said Will, reaching out a hand. He turned it over, and rolled his eyes to the ceiling with mock concentration. “Will Bruce get laid tonight?” He got elbowed as he turned the ball and peered into it. “’Outlook not so good.’ Gee, sorry buddy. Maybe you could take the elixir and try again.” He guffawed, his eyes dancing around the room, inviting general laughter. “Ow!” he exclaimed as Bruce punched him affectionately.
“Let me try.” Alexa took the ball back with a sly glance in Kate’s direction. “Will I leave here alone tonight?” She turned the ball over and read, “Cannot predict now.’”
“Just wait until Bruce tries the elixir,” said Will, to more hilarity.
“Who said I was thinking about him?” said Alexa with disdain, avoiding Kate’s eye, but digging her elbow into Kate’s ribs.
“Alex!” Kate reprimanded, feeling her face flush hot. “My turn, and I’m taking that away from you before...” Kate plucked the 8-ball out of Alexa’s hands, tossing it onto the sofa beside her.
Alexa jabbed her playfully and leaned over to choose a small package. Opening it, she found a small polished brass compass. “Oh, it’s lovely. It looks like an antique.” She swiveled it round and tipped it, studying the bouncing needle as it settled on the enameled N. “It seems to work perfectly. Don’t you dare take this from me, anyone. I’ll fight you for it.”
“There you go. Something to show you the way that you can trust,” said Simon soberly, and Kate glanced at him wondering if he understood her fears.
The game concluded quickly amid further teasing and laughter.
“Okay, my turn.” Simon stood and struck a thoughtful pose, gazing longingly at Casey’s caramel corn.
“Hold onto your poppycock, Casey.”
Simon laughed. “I’ve thought it over and I’ve decided that Casey is the far better qualified attorney when it comes to bombast, gibberish, gobbledegook, Jabberwocky, piffle, hooey… and horsefeathers. So he can keep his poppycock.” He paused for effect, and was rewarded with laughter. “Whereas I, on t
he other hand, being of sober mind and domestic inclination… ” He slowly turned, squinting in turn at everyone in turn and flipped imaginary hair over his shoulder, “…have always wanted long black tresses.” He reached and plucked the Chinese elixir from Bruce, “And ten more children.” With this he winked mysteriously at Kate.
Her smile froze, and she felt hot prickles and tingles climb up her breasts to her cheeks.
“Besides, you can’t be trusted with children, you buffoon,” he said to Bruce and fell back onto the sofa, laughing, and Kate thrilled with the physical energy of him touching the side of her disconcertingly responsive body.
“Will you people leave me be,” groaned Bruce, standing to choose yet another gift. Kate observed Bruce wistfully, her mind on Simon and his coded communication. She took his meaning perfectly well when he referred to their dinner last Saturday, and she hid behind dropped lashes.
Bruce ripped the wrapping paper off. His face lit up with delight like a child on Christmas morning. “At last!” He held up a hockey jersey with a large number ‘19’ and the name ‘Naslund’ emblazoned across it. Seeing Will’s expression, he growled defensively.
“Alright!” shouted Will, leaping from his chair and lunging toward Bruce on the loveseat.
“Hands off!” yelled Bruce.
“No way, you loser. I’m next. It’s mine!” With this he pounced on Bruce and yanked at the jersey, but Bruce was unwilling to concede and fought back. They wrestled each other over the back of the loveseat and onto the floor, where the others, laughing, could only hear their grunts, muffled curses and thumps. At last Will stood up, his shirt askew, a huge grin stretched across his face, and held aloft his prize. “Yes!” He punched a victorious fist into the air.
A moment later, Bruce emerged, his face as dark as a thundercloud, his hair and shirt equally disheveled. “This just isn’t my night.”
Michelle’s voice cut through the clamor. “It’s Twister time!”
Simon turned and earnestly addressed Michelle with hands on her shoulders. “Sorry. Twister is not in the stars tonight. Please take your children home.”
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