One Week In December

by Holly Chamberlin

  “Then I’ll put you on the guest list,” he promised. “But I’m hoping you’ll pay our fair city a visit before then. The sidewalks are pretty treacherous until about May, but there are other things to recommend Portland.”

  “I’ll certainly try,” Becca said honestly. “You know, Alex, this just occurred to me. The other day, when you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I never asked you that same question. So, now I’m going to ask it. What did you want to be when you grew up?”

  Alex grinned. “Am I supposed to be grown up now?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “A sherpa.”

  “What?” she laughed.

  “I’m only kidding. Actually, since I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be just what I am—an artist. I don’t even mind the teaching, mostly, because I’m still involved with art. I consider myself pretty lucky.”

  Becca thought about that. Had Fate granted Alex luck, a contented life, or had Alex made his own luck? She rather thought it was the latter.

  “Here’s a question I haven’t asked you,” he said now. “Why do you hate the winter so much? Is it purely a physical thing? Something against numb fingers, runny noses, and chapped skin?”

  Well, Becca thought, there was certainly no reason to withhold from Alex this bit of information. Not after all that she had shared with him.

  “I found out that I was pregnant in the middle of December,” she said. “I guess ever since then, everything about cold and snow and ice just—just brings me back to that awful time. I was so scared. I was in an absolute panic about telling my parents.” Becca paused. “You know, before that I loved the cold weather. And I especially loved Christmas. The whole season, from Thanksgiving on, felt so—romantic.”

  Alex shrugged. “Maybe it can feel that way again. I mean, why not?”

  Why not, indeed, Becca thought. If she took the trouble to imagine a happier, more romantic life, then one might actually follow. She might will a better life into being.

  “I’ve been missing my own life, Alex,” she said now. “I’m already thirty-two and I’ve never taken a proper vacation.”

  “Here’s the good news,” he countered. “You’re only thirty-two. With any luck, you’ve got at least another thirty-two years ahead of you to ski in Colorado—well, if you can get past your psychological hatred of the cold—or lay on a beach in Puerto Rico or roam the streets of—well, of Rome.”

  “I grind my teeth at night.” Becca wondered what had made her tell Alex that. And then she said, “And I clench my jaw pretty much all the time.”

  “Do you have dental insurance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” he said with a laugh, “because you’re going to need it. Unless, of course, you work on some stress relief techniques.”

  “That’s what my doctor told me. What do you suggest? Yoga? Meditation?”

  “Those are good,” he said. “Not that I have any experience of either. But I was thinking more along the lines of regular vacations. Even a mental health day here and there can be very restorative. And about being plugged in all the time . . .”

  “What about it?” she asked.

  “The other day you were declaring that anyone who’s got half a brain should be always plugged in. You were declaring that people should always be available to whomever needs them.”

  Becca squirmed inside. “I declared?”

  “Yeah. At the cocktail party. Remember, your grandmother made her famous cheese puffs?”

  “Oh,” she said, embarrassed. “Well, I think I might have had one too many Brandy Alexanders and not enough cheese puffs.”

  Alex didn’t comment on Becca’s alcohol-to-food ratio. “So, about being plugged in. Your stress level might just go down a bit if you weren’t always going online or checking your phone for messages.”

  Becca thought of the fact that since arriving in Maine she hadn’t received one electronic communication. “I know,” she said. “I do know that.”

  Silently they walked on. And then Alex’s voice in the still air startled her.

  “Maybe this is obvious by now,” he said, “but I don’t like to assume, so . . . So I’d like you to know that I’m falling in love with you.”

  Becca’s knees went weak. She’d always thought that was just an expression, but now she knew better. “Oh,” she said. “I had no idea. So, thank you for telling me.”

  Alex shrugged. “Okay. Sure. I just thought you should know in case . . .”

  “In case what?” Becca’s voice sounded squeaky to her ears.

  “Well, in case you might, you know, in case you might happen to be falling in love with me, too. I know it’s only been a few days, but stranger things have happened. . . .”

  Becca felt her cheeks flame. Again. “Oh,” she said. “Yes. Well. I guess that does make it easier to say. I mean, I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

  “Said what?” Alex prompted, with a smile.

  “Said, ‘I’m falling in love with you.’ So, I’m falling in love with you. Too.”

  “I am so very glad.” Alex laughed. “I was feeling like a big idiot there for a minute. Whew.”

  Becca laughed, too. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little—slow—in the romance department. I guess I’ve got a lot to learn.”

  “That’s okay. I think it might be nice to be without a big history of romantic disappointments. Maybe you’re lucky, coming to love now and not before.”

  “Maybe.”

  Instinctively, they stopped walking and turned toward each other. Alex stepped closer and put his hands on Becca’s upper arms. “So,” he said, “now’s when we kiss. In case you were wondering when that big moment was going to happen.”

  “Okay,” she said. She was both eager and apprehensive. She felt like an innocent all over again. She wondered if they could be seen from the house. She wondered if anyone was watching them.

  And then they drew together and Alex’s lips were on hers and hers were on his. The kiss was intense and yet gentle. It was over too soon.

  “My lips are a little bit frozen,” she murmured, looking up into the penetrating blue eyes she had feared only days before. Now she found them terribly exciting. “Sorry.”

  “Like mine aren’t?” Alex shook his head. “And never apologize for a kiss, Becca. A kiss is always a good thing.”

  His arms were still around her. Becca thought she would like them to always be around her.

  “Alex?” she said. “You don’t think I’m insufferable?”

  “Not in the least. Well, maybe you’re a little—tense. But artists enjoy a challenge.”

  “Good. Because I’m afraid you might be in for a mighty big challenge with me.”

  Alex laughed. “Do I look like I’m afraid?”

  “Actually, you look kind of like a mountain man. When are you getting a haircut?”

  “Next week, when I’m back in Portland. Anyway, as I was going to say, all of life is a challenge. The big question here is, are you up to it? Will you give me—us—a chance?”

  “I’m going to try. Really.”

  “That’s all anyone can ever ask for. A promise to try.”

  “Not all anyone can ask for,” she corrected. “I have to ask for one more thing, and right now.”

  “Again with the haircut?”

  “No. I’m going to ask—insist, actually—that we go back to the house. I’m freezing my butt off out here.”

  Alex laughed heartily. “I so don’t want that to happen. It’s a little skinny, but I’m rather fond of it. Let’s go.”

  They began their way back to the house, arm in arm. Alex’s last words had made Becca feel a bit nervous. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. Now she knew for sure that it had been too long. She’d been depriving herself of so much joy and pleasure. But reclaiming that part of herself was scary.

  “So,” she said then, “before we commit to a long weekend in a warm climate someday, we’ll spend lots of tim
e talking and stuff, right? We’ll spend lots of time getting to know each other.”

  “Absolutely,” Alex said, nodding. “Lots of talking and stuff. And by ‘stuff,’ do you mean to include some—er, fooling around?”

  Becca laughed. “You are blunt, aren’t you!”

  “What? I’m a guy. Sex is pretty much all that’s on my mind at any given time. Well, that and art and the environment and politics and—”

  “It’s okay, Alex,” she assured him. “I might be a bit rusty, but I’m not opposed to sex.”

  “Okay. That’s good. You know,” he added suddenly, “there might be things about me you’ll hate.”

  “Like what?”

  “How should I know what you’ll hate about me? I once dated a woman who freaked out when I chose the boysenberry syrup instead of the maple syrup at IHOP. Apparently, syrup was a deal breaker. A nonnegotiable issue. Who would have thought?”

  “I can assure you I’m not that fussy. Well, about syrup, anyway. I usually don’t use any.”

  Alex pretended horror. “Now, that is just sick and wrong. How can you eat pancakes without syrup?”

  “Syrup has a lot of empty calories,” she said, repeating the words of her trainer. One should always be on guard against empty calories.

  “Oh, please, don’t tell me you’re one of those weight-obsessed women! Someone’s got to eat nachos with me, please, Becca. One of the best things about a serious relationship is the hanging out and eating part.”

  Becca wondered. Maybe she had been spending a bit too much time at the gym and counting calories. When was the last time she’d had nachos? “I’ve been known to eat a nacho or two,” she said finally. Once upon a time. Suddenly, she had a craving for melted cheese. Lots and lots of melted cheese. Cheddar would do, but Havarti or Swiss or Jack cheese with jalapeño bits would be better.

  Alex grinned. “Then I think we’re going to be just fine.” They walked on a bit before Alex added: “Oh, by the way, I like my nachos with chili.”

  “Veto. No chili. It gives me indigestion.”

  Alex roared with laughter. “How romantic! I’ll be sure to carry a roll of Tums when we eat out. Okay, then, how about chili on the side?”

  Becca pretended to think about this suggestion. “Well,” she said finally, a grin that felt goofy spreading across her face, “okay. We have a deal.”

  54

  In the late afternoon, Alex, feeling he’d come dangerously close to overstaying his welcome—and needing to put more time into his latest commission—headed back to his own home. Before leaving, he managed to steal a brief kiss with Becca, and yes, with unfrozen lips it was much better.

  The warm feeling of Alex’s lips on hers still alive, Becca went in search of Lily. She felt she owed her younger sister a gesture of friendship. It hadn’t even occurred to her to offer Lily a ride to Maine for the holiday. Why? Because she had been immersed in her own self-pity, that’s why.

  She found Lily curled up on a chair in the living room, reading a novel.

  “Hey,” she said, sitting in the chair next to Lily’s. “Am I interrupting?”

  Lily smiled and closed the book. “Not at all.”

  Becca felt a bit awkward—she really wasn’t sure what sort of answer she’d get—but she plunged on.

  “So,” she said. “Do you want to maybe have dinner when we’re both back in Boston? I know you must be pretty busy with classes and law school applications and all but . . .”

  Lily’s answer was immediate and enthusiastic. “I’d love to, Becca. Thanks.”

  Becca smiled. “It’ll be my treat. I know how tight a student’s budget is. Is there some place you’ve wanted to try? Do you like sushi? There’s a new place in the South End, just a few blocks from my place, that’s supposed to be good. I haven’t been there, but the Globe reviewer raved about it.”

  Lily smiled back. She really had quite a lovely, genuine smile, Becca noted. “Yeah, sure, that sounds like fun. I love sushi.”

  “Great. You have my number, right? Call me when you’re settled in after the holidays and we’ll make a date.”

  “That should be easy for me,” Lily replied. “Now that Cliff and I are over . . . And I don’t really have any close friends. . . .”

  Becca smiled ruefully. “My social schedule isn’t exactly full, either.”

  “It might be, now that Alex is—around.”

  Becca felt her cheeks grow warm. Did everybody know what was going on between her and her parents’ neighbor? She got the odd feeling that they did and that they’d known even before she had. “Well,” she said, “he teaches here in Maine. And I can’t take much time off work.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Nothing stands in the way of real love.”

  Becca laughed. “Love!” she bluffed. “Who said anything about love? Lily, I hardly know the guy.”

  “Have you kissed yet?” her sister asked.

  “That’s personal!”

  Lily looked intently at her sister. “Yes, I think you have. Well, that’s a good sign. I don’t think you should wait a long time for the first kiss. That’s just my opinion, of course.”

  “Thanks for the nod of approval. Now, no more questions about my love life. At least until I’m really sure I’ve got one.”

  “Deal,” Lily said. “But you will keep me posted about you and Alex, won’t you? And about—well, about you?”

  “Okay. But I can’t promise there’ll be anything fantastic to tell. My life has been pretty boring for the past ten years or so.”

  “Maybe that will change now,” Lily suggested.

  Becca laughed. “If Mom has her way, by this time next year I’ll be cruising the Nile or climbing to the top of Notre Dame in Paris or swimming with the dolphins in—well, wherever it is you swim with dolphins.”

  “I could be persuaded to come with,” Lily said quickly. And then, as if fearing she’d taken a step too far, she added: “I mean, assuming I could afford the trip and that Alex wasn’t coming along. I wouldn’t want to interfere.”

  Becca smiled. “I’m sure we can arrange a girls’ weekend someplace fun. Maybe a spa?”

  “That sounds great. I’ve always wanted to have one of those hot stone massages. Though it does sound kind of scary . . .”

  “I’ve had them. They’re not at all painful and you’ll be addicted immediately. And by the way,” Becca added, “I’m sorry about that Cliff guy. I should have said something before. Men can be idiots.”

  “That’s okay,” Lily said. “Women can be idiots, too.”

  Becca laughed. “And you’re looking at one of the biggest idiots right now!”

  “You? Look at me. I mean, I was totally blind to the real Cliff Jones. Thinking back on our—relationship—I can’t believe how much nonsense I put up with. Anyway, Grandma was a huge help. She . . . she opened my eyes to a lot of things.”

  Becca smiled. “She does that, doesn’t she? I wonder if she was this smart back when she was my age or your age?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m glad she’s smart now!”

  Becca thought back to the previous night, when she and her grandmother had sat up while the rest of the family was at church. She felt she’d always remember that Christmas Eve as one of the most special moments of her life.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m glad, too.”

  55

  It was late, about eleven o’clock on Christmas night. Becca was sprawled on the couch. She had been doing a lot of sprawling since morning. How many calories had she consumed that day—five thousand? Six thousand? Rain, next to her and wearing her new boots with her nightgown, seemed to be faring better, if her upright posture was any indication of easy digestion.

  The two women had the living room to themselves. Everyone had gone off to bed. Becca felt too full to sleep. Rain, she suspected, was simply too psyched about her new boots.

  “Something really weird went on here this week,” Rain said then. “I don’t know what it was, but I�
�m so glad it’s over. Everyone was acting so uptight.”

  That was one word for it, Becca thought. Uptight. “Like I told you the other day,” she said, “adults are an odd lot. And someday soon, you’ll be one of us.”

  Rain made a face. “Lucky me. Well, maybe I’ll be different. Maybe I won’t be so odd. Maybe I’ll be the first really normal adult!”

  I hope so, Becca thought. I hope you’ll be happy and honest and fulfilled. I hope that you will find true and lasting love. I hope that you won’t have one single regret. But I know that you probably will.

  “So,” she asked, “are you still thinking of legally changing your name when you turn eighteen?”

  Rain mused for a moment. “No,” she said then, “I don’t think so. It’s kind of grown on me. It’s actually kind of a pretty name. Rain Julia Rowan.”

  Becca smiled. “Well,” she said, “I’ve always thought so.”

  “You know,” Rain said suddenly, “whenever I’m mad at my mom I think how cool it would have been if you were my mom instead.”

  Becca felt light-headed. It cost her much to keep a tremble out of her voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you mad at your mother,” she said. “Not really mad, anyway.”

  Rain rolled her eyes. “Oh, she can drive me pretty crazy. Like when she insists I be home by nine when everyone else can stay out until eleven? I mean, come on! It’s very embarrassing.”

  Becca fought back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. Glad of the low light in the room, she reached over and took Rain’s hand in her own.

  “Listen to me, Rain. Your mom is the one with all the hard work to do, you know. She’s the bad cop to my good cop. It’s easy being an aunt. I get to have all the fun.” Somehow, she managed a smile. “Besides, I can be pretty unbearable on occasion.”

  Rain laughed. “Oh, I can’t imagine that!”

  “Trust me,” Becca said, sitting back and letting go of her daughter’s hand. “You have no idea. If—if I were your mother, there’d be times when you’d wish Naomi were instead.”

  “I guess,” Rain admitted. “You’re the best, Aunt Becca, really. Every girl should be as lucky as I am.”