The Christmas Kiss

by Virginia McCullough

  Parker’s frown was back.

  Her fault. He’d still be in the dark about who was linked to who and why. “Sorry, I sometimes forget all these local connections might confuse you at first. Ruby’s my best pal—since grade school. If Ruby and I aren’t talking on the phone, we’re texting. She keeps me up-to-date on most everything going on these days, mainly because it seems there’s always something new.”

  She explained that Mike and Ruby had been married on New Year’s Eve, and then in April Mike ran for mayor and won. “And now, only a few months later, we’re talking about boardwalks and Christmas caroling at the covered bridge.”

  “Nic told me Santa’s coming to River Street,” Parker said, amused. “You’ve all been busy.”

  “It’s an old story. A major employer shut down a plant and this town started to slide downhill. But we’re turning that all around now. No more limping along. We’re reinventing Bluestone River.” She dramatically extended her hand in his direction. “And that explains why you’re here.”

  Parker’s jaw tightened for a second or two, but then relaxed. Hmm...she’d intended to amuse him a little. Oh well, so her act bombed. But why the tension?

  “The board is busy luring volunteers.” He smirked, adding, “And courting donors.”

  “Not such a bad thing for a not-for-profit to do.” She looked away, annoyed by his snide tone.

  When she glanced back at him, Parker’s face was slightly red.

  Served him right.

  Parker stopped in place where the planking ended. “We’ll decorate all this with white lights for the Christmas Eve event. The main building and the pier and our cabins will be lit up, too.”

  “It’s making me look forward to Christmas,” Emma admitted, turning to start back. The minute she heard it, Emma had taken to the sanctuary’s new name: The Hidden Lake Bird Sanctuary and Nature Center. It sounded established, even permanent. It’s what Mike’s dad would have wanted when he gave the land to the conservancy.

  “I can help out on Thanksgiving weekend.” Emma didn’t like the eagerness coming through in her voice, or the undeniable relief spreading through her body. It meant she admitted, at least to herself, that hanging out at the sanctuary gave her something to fill an otherwise long, even dreaded weekend. “Maybe I could be a greeter and entice people to join.”

  Parker shook his head and looked away. “Look, I owe you an apology for that remark about donors. My tone, I mean. I forgot for a minute that you’re the one footing the bill for these renovations and other changes.” His big gesture encompassed the woods and all the buildings. “I didn’t mean to be sarcastic.”

  Oh, yes, he did. It was second nature to him. Probably every job he ever had depended on people like her. But as apologies went, she graded this one C minus. She held up her hand as if to stop him from going on. “Correction. I’m covering some of the upgrades here. And I don’t micromanage. Consider me a silent partner.”

  Parker cleared his throat. “I only hope people around here have the good sense to know what a special place they’ve got.”

  “I think it’s what got Mike elected mayor.”

  But will it point me in a new direction? She pushed that question away for the moment and focused on Parker’s rich, deep voice describing yesterday’s cold downpour. Emma thought of her mom, who would have dispensed with words like tenor, baritone or bass. She’d have said he was born with a voice meant for radio and left it at that.

  “The rain helped us identify the source of leaks in the office building roof,” Parker said with a smile. “Admittedly, the water stains already on the ceiling and walls were pretty good clues.”

  She started to respond when a loud voice from behind interrupted. “Are you Parker Davis?”

  “Yep, that’s me.” He put his hand across his forehead to shade his eyes from the shafts of afternoon sun coming through the trees. “Heater guys? I sure hope so.”

  “Yessir, that’s us.”

  “I hope you’re having those old oil heaters in the cabins replaced. It’s way past time.” Emma took a last look around. “I’ll be on my way. Thanks for the walk and the updates.”

  Parker held up his arm in a silent message to the guy that he’d be right there. Polite. But unnecessary. With her free hand, Emma shooed Parker away. “Go on. Take care of business. I’m fine.”

  “They can wait a minute.”

  Since there was nothing tentative about his tone, she offered no argument. When they reached the gravel, she waved goodbye and started toward the lot, but turned around when Parker called out to her. “Will I see you on Friday at the reception? It’s being billed as my formal welcome to Bluestone River.”

  “Absolutely,” Emma said. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  He smiled broadly before turning his attention to the heating guy.

  Nothing tentative in that smile, either.

  * * *

  NIC’S LONG BLOND hair blew around her head in the strong breeze coming across the lake. Even with her face partially covered, Parker could read her mood. With shoulders slumped and head lowered, she loped along the bare path to her cabin. In no hurry, or so it seemed.

  Parker called her name to get her attention and waved his arm for her to come to the boardwalk. When she didn’t respond the first time, he gave her the benefit of the doubt and called out again, louder this time. “Hey, Nic.”

  Finally, she looked up, still fighting a losing battle with her hair as it swished over her face.

  Parker walked toward her. “The heater guys left a few minutes ago. You can warm up your place tonight.”

  That news changed her expression. “Yay! Finally.” She looked past him at the carpenters, who were back now, unloading more planking off a dolly. They’d been around most every day, but from Nic’s expression she might have been seeing them for the first time.

  “They’re the same two guys who were working yesterday,” Parker said, amused by the way she was scrutinizing Will, who looked to be about eighteen or nineteen. Nic’s age.

  She responded with a halfhearted shrug. Man, much as he loved his daughter, she could wear on him sometimes. Wasn’t a girl her age supposed to be lively, full of energy? Okay, that was a platitude, and sometimes she was those things and more. But lately, he never knew which Nic he’d be talking to. The teenager thrilled to be an adult going to college or the unhappy girl pining for simpler years gone by. Longing for the home they’d left, or wishing she was with her mother instead of him. When he challenged her, Nic defended her bad attitude by pointing out that he and her mother had forced her into this “new normal,” as she called it. Hard to argue with that.

  “So, how was your day?” When would he learn not to ask questions she could so easily dismiss with one-word answers?

  “Fine.” She changed the direction of her gaze from Will to him. “I have to study for my zoology test. And did I tell you I have an interview at the Sweet Comforts Bakery in the morning?”

  “You mentioned that. Sounds like a good job to go after.”

  “See ya, Dad.”

  “Come to my cabin later. We’ll figure out dinner.”

  “Okay, but as long as we have lots of veggies for a salad.”

  He clamped his lips together to suppress a snort of laughter. This from a girl who once considered the existence of carrots and kale a personal affront. “You got it, Nic. Green, yellow, orange. We’ve got them all. Even a purple something.”

  Did the corners of her mouth turn up? Maybe, but then she remembered and flashed a withering look. “Leave the salad to me.”

  “Got it.”

  Nicole continued to her cabin but managed another surreptitious glance at Will, who was still stacking wood. As potential dates went, Nic could do worse, Parker decided. The kid sure worked hard enough. He and his dad had made great progress in the few days they’d been working at the s
anctuary, inside as well as outside. On the rainy days the two concentrated on tearing out old rickety shelving in the office.

  Most of the real work to fix up the two cabins, one for him and one for Nic, would wait until winter. The board had asked if he preferred to open up one large cabin for him and Nic, or would two small ones work better? Not a hard choice. Nic had taken to calling her one-room-and-an alcove cabin her studio—the only really good thing about their unexpected move to Bluestone River. She didn’t care about the decay around her. Blue-turned-gray paint peeling off the cabin. Squeaky pipes. Limited hot water. Those were small prices to pay for having her own place.

  Leaving Bill and Will to finish up their tasks for the afternoon, Parker wandered down to the pier, also due for repairs in time for Thanksgiving. He looked across the lake to the marshes at one end, where a few dozen geese were gathering. Many more clustered in the field across from the woods. Parker expected most of the geese would move on, but a few would winter over. The sprawling Abbot family home sat back from the shore at the opposite end of the lake. At forty-five acres, Hidden Lake was big enough to be the centerpiece of the resort in the past, and now add to the appeal of the sanctuary.

  Jackie, his ex-wife, would have called this land and the lake picture-postcard beautiful. The pretty brunette, Emma O’Connell, apparently agreed. He hadn’t missed the look that passed over her face when she talked about her summer resort job and swimming off the pier.

  Parker had to laugh at himself. As much as he’d tried, he couldn’t stop looking at Emma, not from the first glimpse of her approaching him. Maybe it was the sassy way she’d twirled her cane that intrigued him. Straight dark hair set off large brown eyes that lit up in fun, but turned serious when something subtle shifted her mood. She was taller than average. Her body was curvy and strong—easy to picture her as that girl jock she brought up.

  He bet Emma was a good dancer. He closed his eyes and there he was, holding her close and slow dancing on the pier. Now why had that occurred to him? He didn’t know her. Not even a little bit. He gave the railing a little bump with his palm, as if that could knock her image out of his brain.

  With no reason to let his mind go there, he wondered if the sadness rippling below the surface was about her losing her husband, a fact about her that had come in a casual conversation about how the sanctuary was funded. Or maybe she was doing fine and he was the one projecting sadness. He’d been walking around with a cloud over his head for a while now. Sometimes he forgot he hadn’t always been grumpy and glum. Matter of fact, he felt pretty good walking on the boardwalk with Emma.

  What made Emma tick was neither here nor there, he repeated to himself. Warm eyes and a smile to match aside, the woman was a donor. From his first interview with the three-person search committee, Parker got it. One person held his job in the palm of her hand. She was a presence without actually being in the room, described as a wealthy widow who’d paid his predecessor’s salary in order to keep the sanctuary open. And she would raise her contribution—substantially—in order to hire a professional, someone with the right experience and credentials. Someone just like him.

  What wasn’t like him was that he’d spared no stereotype in making assumptions about the donor in question. In his mind’s eye, she was older than Emma, by maybe thirty, even forty years. His imaginary Emma was nothing like the real woman, who he guessed hadn’t celebrated her fortieth birthday yet. He admitted being a little thrown that she relied on a cane. Likely, though, she was recovering from some kind of injury. He smiled to himself. She’d probably be dancing again soon.

  Parker again tried to force his thoughts elsewhere. Emma’s age and beauty were irrelevant. He knew that much. He’d accumulated a lot of painful experience working with organizations’ boards and dutifully pleasing benefactors and courting new ones. He’d learned to hold funders at arm’s length, at least as much as possible. His rules were simple: Be polite and competent, but don’t confuse decorum with friendship. People with major bucks to hand out, no matter how worthwhile the cause, had a way of tightening reins on the organizations they propped up. This was true even in the smallest facilities, like the Hidden Lake Bird Sanctuary.

  The geese in the marsh began honking as they took flight. He let the sound distract him from his own thoughts, which were making a beeline toward a dark, hurt place he couldn’t afford to indulge. He stood in place and watched the birds soar across the sky on their late afternoon trip. In his last job, he didn’t have a lake outside his front door. That particular rescue center for birds of prey sat a quarter mile back from a narrow creek off one of the estuaries along the North Carolina coast. At any given time, the center might house over one hundred birds in various stages of treatment.

  Despite serious misgivings about saying yes to this new position as director of the sanctuary here on Hidden Lake, maybe breathing life into this run-down facility, it was exactly what he—and Nicole—needed to build a different life. That’s what led him to sign a one-year contract to assure the stakeholders he’d launch their new vision for this wooded land and old buildings. In the fall, he’d plan his next steps. They could involve Nic, but maybe not. That depended on who she chose to live with. Right now Nic was with him. With some regularity, Jackie still dangled weak invitations to their daughter to come and stay with her at some vague point in the future.

  Speaking of Jackie, he remembered the text that had come in and pulled out his phone. Nothing critical. Just a note about a loose end that once dealt with would sever any legal tie to each other. Parker stared at the screen. That was it? Jackie was his past. Her exact words were, “You’re free, so go plan a great future for yourself.”

  Parker fought the impulse to call his ex-wife, maybe tell her to make up her mind. Did she want Nic with her or not? The vacillating wasn’t helping their daughter adjust. Maybe, he’d drop a remark or two to remind her he’d never asked for his so-called freedom. That had been her idea.

  He grasped the railing on the pier with both hands and sighed. He’d never planned to be on this pier overlooking this lake in a small Midwest town, either. But here he was. A chance at a bigger, better job had fallen through. Faced with no job at all, Parker reluctantly accepted what looked like a relatively easy stint here in Bluestone River. He had to watch his attitude, though. He’d already sized up the board and the donors as town booster types, which was okay as far as it went. But a legitimate bird sanctuary that rescued and treated its patient-birds needed dedicated advocates. So far, the board showed more interest in attracting locals and tourists to an ordinary nature center. Becoming a true bird sanctuary was a step in a five-year plan. Parker doubted it would happen at all.

  Being blindsided over a job offer was one thing. A divorce was in a category of its own. The worst part was what it did to Nic. As an only child, and doted on at that, her spirit shattered in little pieces. Parker winced against the memory of Nic yelling at Jackie. Her mom betrayed them. She’d never forgive her, never. That had gone on for days, until the morning Jackie stood by her packed car and hugged Nic and asked her to come and live with her and Ben. One day. Soon. When she and Ben were settled. But the next time Nic saw her mom was almost six months later at her high school graduation.

  Parker focused on consoling Nic. Something he apparently wasn’t very good at.

  Now, he stared overhead at geese flying in formation. He listened to their loud negotiation, as his daughter liked to call their attention-grabbing honking. With golden leaves dropping from the trees and the breeze ruffling the surface of the lake, he’d be a fool to complain about where he’d landed. What was a year out of his long career?

  The upcoming reception wasn’t his favorite type of occasion, but he’d managed to navigate his way around them before—almost every job he held required him to be the public face of an organization.

  Strange how the prospect of seeing Emma again was almost enough to get his mind off Jackie.


  While his good mood held, he left the pier and went to Nic’s cabin and knocked on the screen door. “It’s just me, Nic.”

  “Come on in,” she said in a listless tone.

  He stepped just inside the door, where the scent of spicy incense filled the air. It tickled his nose, and reminded him of coming into their house in North Carolina and being greeted with a mix of smells coming from the candles and incense Jackie and Nic had burned almost every day.

  Nic sat at the table scrolling through her phone, earbuds in, laptop open in front of her, and textbooks spread on the table. The TV was tuned to a cooking show, but the sound was muted. He found Nic’s multimedia world a little on the chaotic side, but he bit his bottom lip to keep his comments to himself. “Remember we have the reception on Friday. The board is rolling out a big welcome for us.” Yikes. Where did a lame expression like that even come from?

  “Why do I have to go?” Nic whined. “Can’t you make up some excuse for why I can’t be there? I’m in college now. It’s not like you need to parade a perfect little family around.”

  Ouch. Nic couldn’t know how much that hurt. The little things often did. When it came to those work-related duty nights, he’d counted on Jackie as a buffer. She could float around a room and be charming and chatty. He often wound up with his feet glued to the floor in one place holding a half a glass of wine he didn’t touch. Some unsuspecting person would approach him and maybe ask a simple question about disappearing bird habitats or migratory patterns. Instead of giving two-or three-sentence answers, he usually fell back on a series of boring facts delivered in what Jackie called his doom-and-gloom voice.

  “Hey, pal,” Parker said, forcing a light tone, “I need you there to keep me from boring everyone to death.”

  She smirked. “Like that’s even possible, Dad.”

  He smirked back. “All kidding aside, the folks on the board couldn’t have been nicer to us. I’m trying to make it work here. I want you at the reception with me.” He swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. “Like it or not, I’m really proud of you. Give your dull dad a break, okay?”