Emilie's Christmas Love

by James Lavene

  "Yeah. Randy's waiting to come out and pick me up," he lied.

  Randy was probably home watching football with a beer in one hand and the television remote in the other. He was going to be surprised if Nick called him.

  "I could take you home," she offered sweetly.

  He'd argued with himself all day. He was taking the car back to Emilie. Usually, Randy drove the tow truck out with him and they came back together. That was how it always worked.

  Nick wanted to talk to her. About Adam, he explained rationally to himself when he told Randy goodnight and that he wouldn't need him to go out to the Ferrier's house.

  He'd wanted her to offer him a lift home. That's what it came down to, he considered, looking at her soft skin and delicate cheekbones. Despite all his good sense, he'd wanted to be alone with her for a few minutes.

  He could say 'no, thanks', call Randy, and that would be the end of it. He could, for once, listen to his saner side telling him that he didn't want to be alone again with Emilie.

  "Thank." He held the door open for her to enter the garage. "I'm sure Randy will appreciate it."

  Chapter Four

  They climbed into the still warm Mercedes and Emilie started the car.

  "That's great about the band,” he said when she was backing up. “I appreciate your help.”

  "I know we can help, Adam," she told him enthusiastically as she drove down the driveway to the slush-covered streets. "The music and the counseling. There's going to be a world of difference in him in no time. You'll see."

  Nick didn't speak. He didn't need to because she kept talking regardless of whether he answered. The woman was hopeless. And beautiful. She smelled like the deep woods on a spring morning. She wore sadness like a veil that he wanted to see through, knowing she was someone else on the other side.

  There were Christmas decorations on every street corner in town. Ferrier’s Mountain went all out for the holiday. Roaming bands of Christmas carolers serenaded late-night shoppers and the huge tree in the square was alive with thousands of twinkling lights. Even though the weather was cold, there was an air of magic on the town streets.

  “Do you like Christmas?” Emilie asked when they paused at the red light closest to Nick’s garage.

  “I liked it better when I was a kid,” he replied honestly. “It’s not so much for an adult.”

  She nodded, not really agreeing. She loved Christmas. “It is a little better when there are children around.”

  The garage was on a side street. It was quiet, very little traffic even during the day. Emilie pulled beside the cement-block building. She didn't turn off the engine.

  "The car runs great now," she told him. "Thank you for your help."

  "Sure." He tried to build up the courage to say something to her, maybe ask her out. He felt like an idiot sitting there, staring at her. "Look, Emilie—"

  She held up her hand. "You have to go. I understand. Your wife is probably waiting for you."

  He looked at her hand. It was bare in the car's pale green interior light. No wedding band. No jewelry of any kind. Without thinking, he reached out and slid his hand across hers until their fingers meshed.

  “I’m not married.”

  She gasped and her gaze flew up to meet his in the car's closeness.

  “That’s what you wanted to know, right?”

  "I-uh-I don’t know."

  “Are you married? Engaged? Seeing someone?”

  She briefly thought about Alain. He didn’t qualify. “No.”

  He leaned a little closer to her. "I've never met anyone like you. You keep your word and you care about people. I don’t understand what’s wrong with the people here. They don’t know you at all, do they?"

  “We are Ferriers,” she whispered. “When I was a child, my parents made it clear that we shouldn’t mingle with other people who weren’t of our stature.”

  “So you’re politely telling me to take a hike?”

  Emilie swallowed hard on her fear. “No. I don’t want you to take a hike, Nick. I wish—I wish you’d put your arms around me, like you did in the truck.”

  "God, Emilie." He let go of her hand and pulled her close to him. "You're a mess, but you’re all I can think about.”

  "I know."

  It felt so wonderful to be held. He was warm and smelled like soap. His heart was beating steadily against her ear. His arms were strong and certain around her.

  "Are you always like this?" he wondered out loud.

  "No." She sat up a little. "No. Actually, I'm a rock. Everyone depends on me. I can take care of any crisis. I don’t need anyone.”

  “Everyone needs someone.”

  Nick held her close. The effects of her body on his hadn’t been a one-time thing. He breathed in and the scent of her raced through him. He shifted his hip to one side and she followed, filling the space that had occurred between them.

  Her coat opened and her breasts pressed against his arm. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done not to move his hand the few inches it would have taken to hold that softness in his grasp.

  Emilie wasn't sure when she started to feel something more than comfort from his touch. Her hands were on his chest. She could feel his heart beating under her fingertips.

  She raised her head to look at him, the streetlight outside the car creating a dark mask that hid his eyes. It made him appear dangerous . . . and intriguing.

  "I should go." She realized her position. She was pressed against him from chest to hip, the curves of her body filled by his hard muscle.

  He smiled. She saw the movement of his lips in the dim light and was fascinated by it. She knew that she was staring at him. She couldn't make herself look away.

  His lips moved closer to hers, still not touching. “I want to kiss you, Emilie."

  His hand slid inside the neck of her coat, warm and caressing. He brought her mouth to his. His kiss was too short, and devastating.

  A tiny whimper escaped her throat when his lips left hers. He groaned and kissed her again. The pressure of his mouth changed, no longer hesitant or undecided. His mouth slanted across hers while his fingers moved up from her throat to cup her head.

  It was like drinking peach brandy. His touch sang through her veins until she could feel it in her toes. She was hot and fluid, answering him with her lips and tongue, drinking him in as though his kiss could quench that sudden fire in her.

  Nick kissed her again and again. His tongue played with hers as she hesitantly, gently, slid her tongue the length of his and back. Her touch was soft and careful as if she were afraid that she might hurt him.

  He could never get enough of her, he thought brokenly, wishing there were fewer clothes between them. He could get lost in her.

  It was that thought that sobered him and made him set her away from him with a firm hand.

  "I'm sorry, Emilie," he said flatly. "I-I can't do this. Not right now. I wasn’t expecting . . ."

  "Nick—" She barely recognized her voice.

  "Goodnight, Emilie." He slid from the car, closing the door behind him.

  "Goodnight," she said quietly to his retreating back as he entered the garage.

  She sat in the car with her hands on the steering wheel for a few minutes. She had to force her body and mind to cooperate. She didn't want to be sitting out there in her car when he came out again. That would be too far past the humiliation she was already feeling.

  Emilie drove home slowly, ignoring the Christmas decorations this time. She wasn't sure when exactly she'd become attracted to Nick, or how she'd crossed that line between being attracted and actually allowing herself to kiss him.

  Not just kiss him, she reminded herself, replaying the last few minutes in her mind. She’d been consumed by him.

  Shivering, she pulled into her drive and parked the car in the garage. She sat in the quiet, gathering cold for a long time. The darkness surrounded her like a thick blanket.

  It had been ten years since she'd felt anything
like that for a man. Ten years of assuring herself that it wouldn't happen again. It was frightening to think that it had all been for nothing. It could just as easily have been David in the car tonight.

  The cold took her breath away and made her leg throb painfully as she walked to the house.

  When her marriage to David had ended ten years before, she'd promised herself that she wouldn't be so gullible, so deeply affected. It had been an easy vow to keep—until she'd met Nick.

  That's all it had taken. The right man. She’d suddenly stopped thinking with her brain and her hormones had taken over.

  She'd made that mistake before. She almost didn't recover from it. It couldn't happen again. She wouldn't let it happen again.

  "You're white as a sheet, child!" Joda opened the door as Emilie put her hand on the knob. "Is something wrong?"

  "N-no," Emilie lied. Her stomach twisted as she thought of telling her aunt that she had come so close to making the same mistake again. "I'm not feeling well. I'm going to bed now."

  The older woman stepped to the side to allow her niece into the house. She shook her flowing white mane when she saw her eyes. Emilie was a terrible liar.

  Still, the torment she saw there was too deep to demand an explanation. Time enough for that later.

  "Goodnight, Emilie, mon enfant." Joda kissed her forehead and looked deeply into the eyes that matched her own. "Tomorrow, we will go out and eat something festive and drink too much wine, hmm?"

  Emilie managed a wan smile and held her cold trembling hands together tightly. "Maybe so. Goodnight."

  #

  The next morning was sunny and warmer. The sky was blue and clear. Icicles had already started forming on the long length of gabled roof along the front of the house.

  Emilie had received a text from Nick saying that Adam played the flute and had his own instrument. He didn’t go into detail. She didn’t ask.

  Composed, ready to face the world, Emilie drove the short distance to school. She walked into the principal's office and informed him that Adam played the flute and yes, he had his own instrument.

  She picked up her mail and strode confidently back to her classroom, smiling and wishing everyone she passed a good morning.

  It was Friday, after all, she reasoned, when a few of her fellow teachers looked at her as though she'd lost her mind.

  Throughout the school, maintenance workers and teachers were busy putting up holiday decorations. Shiny silver garland entwined with huge green bunches of holly were gracefully draped from classroom to classroom.

  Emilie smiled when she saw them. Nothing terrible could happen during the Christmas season. Everything was going to be all right. She opened the door to her classroom. Nick stood up from the desk he'd occupied and her heart sank like a stone.

  "Hi." He looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

  "Good morning." She tried to keep her equilibrium after a long night of soul searching that had supposedly led to this morning's calm.

  "Adam got on the bus this morning without his flute." He held the battered case out in front of him like a shield. "I wasn’t sure if he’d need it or not."

  "I'll be sure he gets it," she answered, not looking at him.

  "Emilie," he started, moving toward her after putting the flute case down on her desk. "I'm sorry about last night."

  She smiled. "I'm sorry too. I was tired and I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it was stress. Sometimes life gets the better of me."

  Nick looked down at the flute case in front of him. "I didn't want you to think I was trying to use the situation with Adam. I know I kissed you . . ."

  "I know." She rushed into the thought. "And I appreciated your honesty, Nick. Really.”

  She smiled and held out her hand to him as a gesture of friendship. She wanted to let him know that she didn't have any hard feelings. He didn't need to explain that it was only a kiss. She was a big girl. She’d been kissed before. The thought made her cringe.

  He looked at her manicured hand, dumbfounded, wondering how he'd managed to make such a mess of a simple thing. He'd thought about it all night and realized that he couldn’t leave it alone. He wished he could, for so many reasons. The powerful attraction he felt toward her made it almost impossible.

  There were compelling reasons why he shouldn't get to know her any better—the kids, for one, and the sharp difference in the lives they’d led. None of the reasons that he wanted to see her made that kind of sense. It didn’t seem to matter. Here he was anyway.

  "I was wondering if you'd go out with me, Emilie." He smiled at the silly rhyme. "Dinner? Nothing fancy. I thought maybe we could get to know each other a little better."

  She smiled in return and carefully slid her hand from his grasp. "I appreciate the offer, Nick. But I'm Adam's teacher and I don't think that's a good idea. I know last night, I might have led you to believe that, well, there could be something between us, but while I appreciate your sympathy, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”"

  "Sympathy? Is that what this is? You think I feel sorry for you?”

  Emilie cringed inwardly. She didn’t want to talk about how inadequate she was that no man could love her. She’d already heard that from her first husband. She’d known the truth and somehow, thought Nick might be different. She was such a fool.

  There was terrible pain in the depths of her gaze, pain and loss. It reminded him of looking into Adam's eyes when he'd realized that both of his parents were gone forever.

  "I'm sorry," she finished softly.

  "So am I," he murmured, wishing he understood, knowing he should back off now.

  "I'll-uh-give this to Adam."

  "Thanks for all your help, Emilie. I believe Adam has a chance to heal now."

  "I hope so."

  "I'll see you around then," he said as the first bell rang.

  She shrugged. "It's a small town."

  "Yeah. I noticed. Goodbye, Emilie."

  "Goodbye, Nick."

  A handful of children ran into the room and Emilie reacted instinctively, telling them not to run and to take their seats. Nick was gone when she looked back.

  Had she done the right thing? She wished she hadn't looked into his eyes and seen the endless night there, wanting to lose herself in those dark stars. She wished she wasn’t so cowardly and was willing to risk the hurt again.

  She'd done the only thing she could. She forced herself to recall her past experience with her husband. She couldn't, wouldn't, let herself feel that way again about a man. She was glad she caught on so soon this time.

  She turned her gaze towards her class of thirty yawning, restless, nine and ten year olds and smiled, putting aside everything else to survive the day.

  Adam had his first band lesson, though Mr. Foster called it an evaluation. The boy was better with the flute than he'd expected, though he never relented enough to come right out and say it. He assigned him a place in the band and that was enough for Emilie.

  Adam was still uninterested in his schoolwork. Emilie was willing to give that some time. She could keep Mr. Howard at bay for a while until the boy had an opportunity to respond to her threefold plan. With any luck, he'd be making progress before anyone had to question her methods.

  The day dragged on interminably. Then it was suddenly over, and the classroom was empty. Emilie looked around at the deserted desks and took a deep breath in the silence left behind.

  She stayed late helping with the decorations and setting up the games for the annual winter festival the next day. Julie Johnson, the second grade teacher, chattered about her husband and her children and their mortgage payments as they tied lights to strings and wrapped prizes.

  "My husband says we may have to quit our jobs teaching," she explained as they worked together putting up posters on the walls. Her husband was a middle school teacher in the county.

  "Why?" Emilie wondered. "He loves that school."

  "Money." Julie shrugged. "We can barely make it on what the state pays. Both of us have
our Masters degrees and it still isn't enough."

  "I'm sure it's hard to have enough with three children," Emilie answered.

  "That's why I took the second job teaching at the college at night," Julie explained. "It's a college prep class, you know? For people who finished high school, but didn't get enough credits or didn't understand the classes. Bill hates me doing it. What can I say, it makes the car payments."

  "I'll bet the kids hate you being gone at night, too," Emilie sympathized.

  "I don't know." Julie sighed. "Sometimes I think I'm spinning my wheels. Sometimes I wonder why I had kids!"

  Emilie stared at her. "You don't realize how blessed you are! I would give anything—" She paused and snapped two more staples into the poster Julie held up on the wall.

  Julie looked at her friend. "You'll find a child, Emilie. Then you can suffer like the rest of us!"

  She laughed and Emilie lightened up as well. It was going to be Christmas break in a week. Maybe a miracle would happen and she would find a child to share Christmas with that year. Sometimes, adoptions came up quickly. Sometimes, it was a phone call in the middle of the night and the next day, you were a mother.

  That was her Christmas wish, she considered, as she finished stapling about a hundred posters that lined the walls of the school corridors in preparation for the festival. Someone to share Christmas with that year.

  Last year, she and Joda hadn't even bothered to put up a tree in the foyer, as her parents had always done. They had shared a quiet supper on Christmas Eve, exchanged their few presents, and gone to bed.

  She looked for the first star she could find when she stepped out into the dark parking lot. Maybe things would be different this year. She made her wish on the evening star, as her father had taught her when she was a child. Then she drove home and got Joda. They went out for dinner and drank too much wine, at least Joda did. Emilie had to drive.

  They stopped by the high school to watch a production of As You Like It. Joda raved about the sets and the actors. She went backstage after it was over and pressed a thousand dollars into the drama teacher's hand.