The Christmas Kiss

by Virginia McCullough

  Parker laughed at the images of Mike and a bunch of kids on a raft in the middle of the lake. “A few familiar faces stand out. What were you, fourteen or fifteen?” Parker kept smiling at the images of Ruby and Emma posing like bathing suit models. “Emma has a photo on a shelf in her house of her and Ruby in Italy. They don’t look all that different than they did as kids.”

  “Years ago, they did a fair amount of traveling.” Mike grinned. “Here we are as teenagers working. We’re all in our Hidden Lake Resort T-shirts.”

  Parker stared at the screen and immediately picked Emma out of the group photo. She was taller and her long brown hair hung over one shoulder. A big guy stood next to her holding a mop over his head and pumping it in the air like a trophy. Pointing to the screen, he asked, “Would that be Neil?”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s Neil. He was the clown of our group.” Mike bobbed his head from side to side. “Well, Neil and Ruby competed for that title. You can see he was a big guy. Neil grew faster and filled out and played football like an older kid.”

  “Emma said his family was like yours. They had deep roots here.”

  Mike nodded to the screen at Emma and Neil diving off the pier. “They’re racing to the raft. Emma challenged everyone to a race. She knew full well she could beat us all.”

  The girl jock, Parker thought, amused. It was one of the first things she said to him. The video captured the moment Emma braced her palms on the raft and easily lifted herself up. “She really was an athlete.”

  “I suppose. Ruby was always trying to keep up with her. But I think of her as more of a dancer. See?”

  Emma and Ruby and a bunch of other girls all danced together. They had moves, as Nic would say. Even if he hadn’t known Emma, she’d have stood out from the others. He’d imagined her as a graceful dancer, and he’d been right.

  But there was more. Even in the giggly crowd, she was deep in her own world, arms raised, her head thrown back. She looked ecstatic as she circled around the other girls and created her own path.

  Mike’s voice broke the spell. “I’m not sure why my mom thought filming us eating hot dogs at the pier was worth preserving, but there it is.” He gestured at the changing image. “But she gets the credit or blame for this footage of Ruby and me rowing away from the shore—off to be alone.”

  When the image switched to a woman in a heavy sweater and jeans and long blond hair, Mike sighed. “That’s my mom shooing away the person with the camera.”

  “Were you the cameraman?” Parker asked.

  “I think that was Emma. Hey, look,” Mike said, “your cabin, and Nicole’s next door.”

  “Looking a little fresher than they do today. But we’ll fix that.”

  He and Mike said little as the last few minutes of film played out. Parker scanned every shot for Emma. When she appeared, she was usually in motion. “Will you look at that?” He blurted the words as images of Emma turning cartwheels across the grass came into view.

  “My mom dubbed her the cartwheel queen,” Mike said. “I imagine my mom shot that when we were juniors or seniors. Mom would have claimed she liked all the kids the same. Ha! Hands down, Rubes and Em were her favorites.”

  Parker liked the sound of Rubes and Em. He wasn’t in the select group that used those nicknames. Yet.

  The silence got uncomfortable. Something was left unsaid.

  “I was with Emma the other day and she told me about her fall.”

  “Whew.” Mike let out a loud sigh. “I’m glad she said something.”

  Why would it matter to Mike? He must have looked puzzled because Mike spoke up again. “Then you know this is as good as she’s likely to get. It’s been an ordeal. The surgery helped, but not completely.”

  Parker nodded. “Seeing her doing those amazing cartwheels gives me a sense of what she lost.” He lowered his gaze and studied the floor. “She was quite a dancer.”

  “Too bad Neil and Emma were a bad match.”

  “But Emma and Neil kept trying.” Parker heard his voice rise with each word. “I mean she took her commitment seriously. When it comes to the subject of fighting for a marriage, I’m a little touchy. My ex-wife was in the walking away camp.”

  Mike tipped his chair back and laced his hands behind his head. “Seems you’ve come to know our Emma pretty well.”

  Mike couldn’t hide the smile behind his words any more than Parker could stop the self-conscious chuckle. “I like her. A lot.” Parker nervously adjusted his glasses. “Pretty obvious, huh?”

  Mike’s snicker answered that question.

  Parker got to his feet. “I better get over to Maggie’s and see about the website.” He waved the envelope with his copy of the papers. “Thanks for handling this. And for showing me the video.”

  * * *

  WHEN EMMA KNOCKED on Nicole’s door, she didn’t expect to hear a loud, “Come in.”

  She opened the door but waited to step inside. “Hi, Nicole. It’s Emma.”

  Suddenly, Nicole came to the door in sweats and a long, loose sweater that reached her knees. A towel was wrapped around her hair and she had her phone in her hand.

  “I see I came at a bad time,” Emma said, nodding at the phone. “I can come back.”

  “No. Come in. I’m getting ready for work.” She said a quick, “Emma’s here. I’ll call you back,” to whoever was on the other end of the conversation.

  “I’m didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “No problem. That was my mom. I’ll call her back.” Her eyes were drawn to the giant-size shopping bag.

  Flustered at the mention of Jackie, Emma’s hands trembled a bit when she held out the bag. “It’s for you. Something I saw in a crafts gallery in Clayton. The same place I get my carved canes. When I saw it, I thought of you.”

  Nicole’s eyes widened when she set the bag down on a kitchen chair and pulled out the quilt. “Wow, look at the color.”

  Emma caught the bottom corner and helped Nicole hold it up and see the heron in the center. “The color is why I thought of you. Like your prom dress and your nail polish, the quilt matches your eyes.”

  “I...I don’t even know what to say,” she stammered. “Except...except thank you. It’s so much.”

  “Consider it a housewarming gift. My way of saying welcome to town.”

  “Can I give you a hug?” Nicole asked.

  Emma pretended to frown and stared into the room. “Hmm. Let me think...” She held out her arms. “Sure you can give me a hug.”

  Nicole’s shoulders felt light, but strong in her arms. “I smell cinnamon. Your shampoo?”

  “A cinnamon candle. It’s almost Christmas, ya know.”

  “I seem to remember that.”

  “This is going to look so good on my bed. Will you help me?”

  “Sure. I’m glad you want to use it right away.”

  Emma held the quilt while Nic moved the screen that hid the bed, and the two of them arranged the quilt across the bed.

  “See? Perfect. Perfect.” Nicole smoothed her hand over the center where the heron stood in marsh grasses. “So real.”

  “So is the tiara sitting on that stuffed dog.” Emma laughed. “Cute.” She glanced at photos tacked on the wall. Some framed prints of flowers hung over the bed. “You’ve done a great job here.”

  “Thanks. Dad likes how I found the screen to turn this area into a little alcove bedroom.”

  Emma smiled. “Very homey. Well, I should go and let you get ready.”

  Nicole walked her to the door for a quick goodbye. She didn’t see Parker’s truck in the lot, so headed home, filled with a jumble of emotion. She was beginning to feel close to Nicole. Her moods could be like hills and valleys, but she knew how to have fun with life. At least it looked that way.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHATTERING SPARROWS BROKE the stillness of
the morning, with a little help from their neighbors, juncos and cardinals. These few minutes alone on the pier were all that stood between him and the day ahead and the people who came along with his job. It had been easier to hide out in the woods in North Carolina than here in Bluestone River.

  He had to laugh at himself. It wasn’t easy to say no to Mike, and then the neighborhood seven-year-old got into the act. When Nicole rearranged her Saturday so she’d be available for Santa Day, what could Parker do but agree to help wherever the organizers needed him? Besides, it was a good excuse to see Emma. His chiming phone startled him and when he looked at the screen, he smiled. Speaking of Emma...

  Odd, only Emma hadn’t tried to coax him to be part of this event. Parker knew himself pretty well, and if no one had roped him in to be there, he’d have skipped it and worked on displays for the nature center. But did he mind? Not really. It would give him another excuse to spend time with Emma.

  Snowflakes the size of pennies and dimes swirled over the water, but sunbeams broke through the cloud cover and hinted at the promise of a bright day. This small lake, only forty-five acres, seemed to invite him into its orbit every day, and he was conscious of its quiet presence all the time.

  The phone in his pocket buzzed. He checked the screen. It was Emma calling.

  “Hey, you’re up early,” he said into the phone. Why was he grinning so?

  “Want to meet me for breakfast at Sweet Comforts and head down to the Santa Claus Festival from there?” Emma asked in a cheerful voice.

  Yes, yes, he wanted to say yes.

  “I sure wish I could do that, but Nic sent me a text late last night. She’s making her world-famous blueberry pancakes this morning. I’m expected to show up in about half an hour.”

  “Well, you can’t disappoint your daughter. Especially when she makes you that kind of offer. I’m glad Nic likes her job and still has time for Santa on River Street.”

  “She sure likes you—and Star and Ruby. Sometimes I feel like I’m in over my head with Nic, though. She’s a puzzle.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got good instincts when it comes to Nic.”

  “Apparently, so do you. The quilt you gave her is one of the best gifts she ever got. Her words.”

  “I thought she would take to it.” All business again, she said, “I’ll see you on River Street. What job have you got?”

  “That’s TBA. Might man the donation table, could be handing out cookies or herding the kids. Whatever’s needed.”

  “Like me. I’m just along for the ride. Well, see you then.”

  “Emma, wait. One more thing.”

  “Okay.”

  “Can I have a rain check on breakfast?”

  “Of course. Whenever you’re free.”

  “Good.”

  Parker showed up at Nic’s cabin shortly after the phone call from Emma. If he’d been blindfolded, the aroma of bacon would have led him to the right door. He knocked and waited for her to tell him to come in before he opened the door.

  “Smells like a café in here—in a really good way,” he said.

  “I hope you’re hungry. I’m making a ton of pancakes.”

  “I know you’ll stash the leftovers in the fridge to snack on.” The idea of cold pancakes never appealed to him, but Nic and Jackie slathered them with butter and feasted on them.

  He glanced around at the table with what looked like an old-fashioned tablecloth. It was blue with swirls of red and white flowers. It could have come from his grandmother’s house. Each of their cabins had two folding bookshelves. Nic had one jammed with books and binders and odds and ends. Framed prints she’d hung over the table looked like illustrations of castles and towers and princesses from fairy tales.

  “Looks nice in here, Nic. You’ve added some things, too.”

  Nic’s face lit up. “I’ve been thrifting again with Cam, the girl from school. The tablecloth is from way back, you know, like the 1950s.”

  “A real antique,” he agreed. “I like your art, too.”

  “Same store—I like the ones of Thumbelina and Rapunzel. I remember being really little and telling Mom I had hair just like Rapunzel.” She didn’t look at him, but kept her gaze on the prints. “When I was little you read fairy tales to me all the time. I remember.”

  Without warning his chest started to ache. Nic turned into a three-year-old sitting in his lap, her tiny fingers turning pages of the picture book. His voice caught in his throat when he said, “I remember, too.” We were happy then, Nic...you, your mom and me.

  Nic filled his plate with a stack of hot pancakes and crisp bacon and put it on the table. “And now I have the gorgeous quilt. Emma told me she thought of me when she saw it because of the birds.”

  “You saved the famous owl, honey, so you’ll always be Emma’s hero.”

  “She’s really something, Dad. I suppose she’ll be at the Santa party today.”

  “Yep, she’ll be there. I just talked to her. She’ll be a floater, like me. We’ll go where we’re needed.”

  “You already talked to her this morning?”

  “I was down at the pier when she called. She wanted to know if I could meet her for breakfast at the café before the Santa thing.”

  Nicole pulled her head back, her eyes widening in disbelief. “And you said no?”

  “Of course I said no. I’m having breakfast with you.”

  She looked at the ceiling and groaned. “I can’t believe you did that, Dad. I could have made these pancakes tomorrow—or some other day.”

  “I took a rain check. I had plans with you.”

  “Fair enough. But I hope you realize how much Emma likes you.”

  “I like her, too,” he said, aware he sounded stupid, like he didn’t catch what Nic really meant.

  “Good start,” Nic said. “But do you like her like her?”

  More every time I see her. “Where is this coming from, Nic?”

  Nicole pointed to the chair. “Let’s eat.”

  Grateful for the diversion, Parker sat down and avoided looking at Nic while he slathered on the butter and poured way too much syrup on the pancakes and took the first delicious bite. “Thanks for doing this. The pancakes are great, as usual.”

  “You know, Dad, I’m beginning to accept that Mom isn’t going to change her mind—”

  “Nic, stop.” His voice was razor-sharp. He didn’t care one way or the other if Jackie was having second thoughts. “We’re divorced. Look, I realize I haven’t talked much about what really happened, but—”

  “Nope, you sure haven’t. One day you two were like...you know...normal boring parents. You didn’t even fight.”

  “We probably should have,” Parker said, with a heavy sigh. “If you learn anything from what happened to your mom and me, maybe that’s it. Don’t go silent. Fight it out.”

  Resting her chin in her palm, Nicole stared off into the room, pensive and silent.

  “But just because you didn’t hear us fight, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t trying to work things out between us.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “Maybe, but none of it was ever about you. Parents are supposed to worry about their teenagers, like every minute. But kids aren’t supposed to worry about Mom and Dad.”

  “I suppose. But maybe that’s why I was so upset—well, shocked out of my mind is more like it—when she said she was leaving.”

  “I didn’t know about Ben until around that time. Time had run out on recapturing something we’d lost.”

  Nicole bit off the end of a piece of bacon. “You hover around me wondering if I’m okay, but what about you? I’m worried about you, Dad. I want you to be happy.” She waved the piece of bacon in the direction of the window. “It’s nice here. I like it. But it’s no rescue center. You aren’t spending all your time splinting
broken legs or taking X-rays of wings. Is it enough for you?”

  True enough. Her expression, the worry in her eyes, sent a message he didn’t welcome. “You don’t need to be concerned about me.”

  Nic swallowed hard. “You seem happy around Emma. I don’t see any sign you’re dating anyone else.” She shrugged. “So that’s why I asked if you like her.”

  Parker nodded. “You’re the most observant person I know. You get that from your mom.” He said the words to fill in some empty space, but in his mind he was fixated on Emma and his heart thumping in his chest.

  “So, what about you, Nic,” he said, steering the conversation in another direction. “Really.”

  “Hey, school and my job are good. This is a pretty friendly place. What’s not to like?”

  He’d have put more stock in her answers if she hadn’t been pushing a piece of a pancake around the plate with her fork. She was holding something back. Maybe Nic herself didn’t even know what it was.

  * * *

  BRIGHT SUN REFLECTED off plowed snow, forming borders on the sectioned-off end of River Street. Emma shaded her eyes to look down the street at the wreaths and banners mounted on the streetlights. The storefronts were decorated with multicolored lights.

  Emma waved to Sam Wilson, aka Santa Claus. The padding and white beard couldn’t fool her. He was another graduate of Bluestone River High School who’d not come back after college, at least until a year ago. Sam’s wife, Lynn, was dressed in an ankle-length red dress with a white faux fur hood, a perfect Mrs. Claus. With kids and parents lining up, Sam looked about ready to begin.

  Emma had to laugh out loud at Sam sitting on a gilded throne, probably borrowed from the prop room at the high school. The maintenance crew had built a plywood backdrop, and teenagers from the high school painted a sled being pulled across the sky by reindeer. Rudolph’s red nose stood out against the dark blue paint.

  She spotted Mike in his red down jacket and jeans meandering through the crowd with Jason at his side. He stopped to shake hands and chat with people who’d braved the bitter cold day to come out. Giving his considerable political skills a workout, Emma mused. Today mayor, tomorrow what? State senator, maybe? It could happen.