by Barbara Lohr
“I’m so sorry,” Sarah whispered.
He turned. “What about?”
She pointed to his boot. “I never noticed. It’s just not what I...”
“What?” Settling against the counter, he pulled her closer, one eye on the swinging door.
“I guess it’s not what’s important to me, Ryan,” she whispered. “Although I know it is to you.”
“Let’s forget about it.” And he tucked a curl into her hair net. “This net is such a sexy look.”
“Are you teasing me?” She pouted in the cutest way. If Sarah had a little girl, this is what she’d look like.
Ryan hoped he’d see that one day.
Chapter 11
How could chili burn in a slow cooker? Sarah was a hot mess. Ryan would be here any minute and the smell of burnt food filled the house. Opening a can of diced tomatoes and more tomato paste, she dumped them into the pot and ran upstairs to get ready. When the front door bell rang, she had just finished a shower and was pulling on a pair of jeans that were way too tight and her red V-neck sweater.
“Nathan, would you please get the door!” she called downstairs.
“No problem, Mom.” She heard the door open. “Come on in, Uncle Ryan.”
Was that her oldest son speaking, so polite and welcoming? A dash of red lipstick and she was ready.
As she came downstairs, Ryan looked up. Their eyes locked and she smiled. “Hey, how were the roads?”
“Not bad.” He stripped off his gloves and the big sheepskin coat. Instead of toeing off his snowy boots, Ryan rubbed them carefully on the throw rug near the door. This was all about the boot and his leg. She got that now.
Rubbing his hands together, Ryan sniffed the air. “Something sure smells...” His nose wrinkled.
“Burned?” She draped his jacket over the rocking chair and dropped his gloves near the air vent to dry. “Hope you enjoy burned chili.”
“As long as I don’t have to make it, fine with me.” He grinned. “I’ve always liked your chili, Sarah. Some things never change.”
By that time Justin had traded the TV for a hug from Uncle Ryan.
“Come and see the tree,” Nathan said, tugging on his uncle’s hand.
“I helped you get it. We put it in the stand together, remember?” Still, he let himself be pulled into the living room.
“Some of the crooked branches won’t come down.” Justin said, very matter-of-fact.
“Down?” Ryan looked alarmed. Then he saw the tree. The poor little thing. Its bare branches reached out, as if it needed help. “Bigger trees might have kept this poor little guy in the shade. See where the branches are all crooked. Have you got your decorations ready?”
“The boxes are right here,” Sarah said coming up behind them. “They’re a little dusty.”
“So I see.” Turning, he smiled at her. Then his fingers brushed her curly hair.
“What? Do I look terrible?” Her hands went to her hair.
“No, you look cute. Thanks for inviting me today.” Ryan caught her hand and gave it a squeeze that went straight to her heart. As they stood there talking, Nathan exchanged a look with Justin. Those boys. Always up to something.
Ryan carried the green tubs from the hallway and stacked them in front of the tree. She had the strings of lights set out on the coffee table. “I told you I’d do that, Sarah.”
“I know you did. But you weren’t around. Besides, I'm used to…”
“Doing things yourself?” He looked miffed.
“Don’t take it the wrong way, Ryan.” She touched the elbow of his navy sweater. “My mother always tells me I have to let other people do things for me.”
“Your mother’s a wise woman.” His eyes swept her face, stopping at her lips and mercy, she felt them plump.
“I'm used to doing everything myself.” She could hardly squeeze the words through her swollen lips. The lips that so badly wanted to kiss him.
“I know. But people will help you.”
“People like you?” she said.
“Exactly. Just tell me what you need.”
I need you.
What were they doing? Nathan and Justin stood close by, watching them the way they’d watched that toy train circle the track in the toy shop. She clapped her hands. “Boys, let’s get going. Lights first?” She turned to Ryan.
“Sure.” But when Ryan lifted them from the coffee table, the boys didn’t look thrilled. “I thought we were using the big lights this time, “ Nathan said, eyeing the miniature lights with disgust.
“You mean the big, colored lights?” Sarah had decided they were too old-fashioned. She was surprised that he remembered. Both boys nodded. “Okay, I’ll go get them.”
“Let me help.” Ryan looked to the boys for help. “Guys, can you hold down the fort?”
“Sure. Of course.” They exchanged another look.
“Maybe pick out smaller ornaments so the branches don’t sag from the weight,” Sarah told them from the stairway.
The boys got to work and Ryan followed her upstairs. In the narrow hallway she pulled at the chain that lowered a staircase and flicked on the light.
Upstairs, they both ducked under the rafters. The attic was freezing and she shivered. “Just point,” Ryan said.
She motioned to the three green tubs stacked in a corner. “They’re marked.”
“Got it.” But when he went to move around her, Sarah lost her balance. The space was so cramped.
“You okay?” Grabbing her arms, Ryan steadied her.
“No.” She could only shake her head. “No, I’m not. And I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Oh, Sarah.” One arm came around her waist and he cradled her head in his other hand. “Don’t let things get you down this Christmas.”
“I’m trying.” His words soothed her. Still, they had a job to do. “I’m glad you came today.”
The attic was freezing but his kiss warmed her. Her eyes fluttered shut. Just one kiss and then he pulled back.
“Don’t stop. Not yet.” Sarah didn’t open her eyes. His kiss was comfort and she needed more.
“Oh, Sarah.”
Ryan’s second kiss touched her heart, his lips sweet and gentle. Sarah tightened her arms around his neck. “I’ve been thinking about this since the other night,” she murmured, rubbing her nose on his.
He pulled back and grinned. “Good. So have I.”
“But is this right, Ryan?” Uncertainty prickled in the back of her mind.
“It’s right in every way. But you have to feel that way too, Sarah.”
She laid a finger on his lips. Felt the bristle of his stubble on her skin. “I think I’m worrying about nothing,”
His low laugh awakened every nerve in her body. “And I think you’re right.”
“Mom?” Nathan’s voice rose from the bottom of the ladder.
“Coming,” she called down.
“Where are those lights?” Ryan peered at the tubs.
“Lights.” She pointed to the one with a label she recognized. He dragged it to the top of the stairs and together they carefully negotiated the ladder.
Downstairs, the boys had hung a couple of smaller ornaments on the tree. But it would take a lot to make these sparse boughs look festive. At least the needles were still on the tree. She’d checked that morning and they were soft and pliant in her fingers. Could have been her imagination but the branches seemed a deeper green than before. Ryan opened the box and took out the old-fashioned lights. The boys’ eyes widened. Big and multi-colored, they’d dwarf the tiny tree. Ryan began stringing the lights.
“Should we eat first and then decorate?” she asked.
“I want to decorate now.” It was unusual for Justin to speak up first. “Our tree looks lonely.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” But what could Sarah say? The tree was puny––a real rescue tree. No matter how they turned the poor thing, it had no good side.
Ryan shrugged. “It's up to your mom.”
“I thought your mother might be here.” Ryan looked around.
Laughing, Sarah scooped a cranberry garland from one of the tubs. “She had other plans.”
“Grandma has a boyfriend,” Nathan said solemnly.
Picking up a box of ornaments, Ryan smiled. “Do you like Stuart?”
“He’s nice,” Justin said.
“For an old person,” Nathan added. Ryan and Sarah both laughed.
Ignoring their advice about size, Nathan hooked one of the largest green ornaments on a bottom limb. The poor branch quivered and sagged to the floor.
“Oh, no!” Nathan looked horrified. “I broke the tree.”
“I think we have to be careful with this little guy,” Ryan said, handing Nathan one of the angels made from colored yarn and glitter. As soon as Nathan made the switch, the lower branch sprang back to life. Decorating this tree was like giving someone artificial respiration.
“Will the tree grow?” Justin asked very seriously as they decorated.
Ryan stepped back. “We'll just wait and see.” When he clicked on the lights, the tree blazed to life. Sarah was amazed by all the color. The old bulbs brought back fond memories and hid the tree’s shortcomings.
“It’s beautiful.” Nathan stood back to admire it.
“Wow.” Justin’s eyes couldn’t get any bigger.
Ryan slipped an arm around Sarah’s waist and whispered words for her ears alone. The room grew very quiet. Looking up, Sarah saw both boys watching them intently. “Guess I’ll check the chili.” She leapt toward the kitchen.
Ornament by ornament, the little tree took shape. The boys kept the decorations smaller and lighter, which helped. Still, in spots Sarah feared the branch would break. Since their traditional Christmas angel was way too big for the top, they settled on a simple straw star.
“It’s perfect.” This tree sure wasn’t what Sarah had in mind. But if the boys thought it was beautiful, she was satisfied.
“It looks just like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree,” Justin said with satisfaction after they’d added some tinsel to fill in the bare spaces. Nathan nodded.
Sarah glanced over at Ryan, who seemed to agree. “Is that your stomach I hear growling?”
“Maybe.” He patted his flat stomach with one hand, a lazy gesture that rocketed her from the sofa.
“Just give me a minute.”
“Want me to start a fire?” Ryan gave her a look that warmed her clear to her toes.
Maybe he already had. “Sure. The wood’s outside the back door.” This would be the first fire of the season. Between work and the boys, Sarah never had time to fuss with the fireplace. Before she knew it, the boys were helping their uncle. Together they carried in pieces of firewood and crunched up newspaper to get the fire started. Working in the kitchen, she soon heard the crackle of the fire in the living room.
Coming to the doorway, she smiled. “This is beautiful.” The fire gave the room a warm glow that made her wonder why she didn’t do this more often.
Crouched in front of the fire, Ryan turned. “Pretty cool, right?”
“Spectacular.” Besides the fire, the only light in the room came from the tree, reflecting on the ornaments. Caught in the spell of the homey scene, she set the dining room table instead of the kitchen so they could see the tree. As they chowed down on the chili and sour dough bread, the boys couldn’t stop looking at the tree and the fire. Their excitement reminded her that the beauty of Christmas lay in small things. The lights. The old ornaments. The fire. Having Ryan here.
Which reminded her. “You’ll come for Christmas, won't you, Ryan?”
“Yeah, you'll be here, right?” Nathan said.
“All day Christmas,” Justin added.
Sprinkling more cheese on his chili, Ryan threw her a shy grin. “Thought you'd never ask.”
“Well, of course we want you here.”
As they sat there eating and planning, Sarah couldn't help but think about Jamie. This wasn’t how she’d pictured this Christmas a year ago. But the encouragement of her mother and Lindsay came back to her. What good would it be for her and the boys to stay stuck in the past? No way would she allow them to dwell on their loss. Jamie wouldn’t have wanted that. Nathan and Justin should have lives full of love, friends and family.
And so should she.
By the time they finished dinner, it was time for the boys to go to bed. “Both of you, say goodnight to Uncle Ryan and then get upstairs. I’ll come up and tuck you in.”
For a change they didn’t argue. Maybe they were tired out from working on the tree. Nathan gave his uncle a ferocious hug. Sarah didn’t know what had gotten into him. “Easy, Nathan.” But Ryan patted his back, as if he understood the insecurities inside that determined little boy.
Not only did Justin hug Ryan, he also gave him a peck on the cheek. Kissing the top of Justin's head, Ryan turned away. But not before she saw tears glimmering in his eyes.
He was a tough guy who cared.
The boys scampered upstairs. Not long after she heard the water turn off, she went up to kiss them goodnight. They were already fast asleep.
Ryan helped her clear the table. “All that fresh air knocked them out,” Sarah said, as she set the dishwasher. The liner of the slow cooker had been soaking. Now she dumped the water out and grabber her scrubber brush.
“Here, let me.” And with that, she was muscled out of the way. Not that she minded.
“You’ll spoil me,” she murmured, folding the dish towels.
“I hope you’ll let me.”
“Let you?” Teasingly, she nicked his chin with a towel.
Ryan set down the scrubber. “You know what I mean.”
“Why don’t you show me?” Was this really her talking?
“Come here.” And with that, he pulled Sarah to him. Because she wasn’t proud of her waist right now, she squirmed a little.
“What?” Leaning back, he peered down.
“You’re holding my love handles.” She had to be totally honest with him.
“Sweet Sarah,” he groaned, tightening his hold and nibbling her neck. “Isn’t this what love handles are for?”
“Not really. My ten ugly pounds are in your hands.”
“You don’t have any ugly pounds. You’re perfect.”
“And you’re kind,” she murmured, while his lips drove her crazy. “My neck is ticklish. But my mouth isn’t.”
With a low chuckle that she felt deep in her stomach, Ryan sealed his lips over hers. The sweetness heated quickly––like the brown sugar syrup she used in her pecan rolls when she turned the heat up high. Leaving the kitchen, they cuddled in front of the fire on her old green plaid sofa. The flames threw shadows that flickered over the magical scene. Sarah wanted to savor the special moment.
This evening felt right. Even their little Christmas tree seemed to be winking at them.
Saying goodnight was so hard.
“I want to take this slow,” he said at the door.
“Me too. But it won’t be easy.”
Ryan had her cocooned inside his jacket. Playing with his rumpled shirt, she wanted to stay there, cared for and cozy. A cold wind rattled the door.
Gently backing away, he snapped up his jacket. “Guess I should go.”
“Yep. Guess so.” One more quick kiss and he pushed the door open.
“See you, Sarah.”
“Go
od night.” How she hated to close the door, but her teeth were chattering. Outside his truck roared to life. Pushing back the curtain, she watched the truck until he put his blinker on and turned.
The room felt empty without him, except for the tree. Sarah collapsed in the rocker. “I sure hope I know what I’m doing,” she told the little tree. “How are you holding up?” Falling to her knees, she felt the water pan. Dry and she trotted out to the kitchen to fill a pitcher. “You’ve got to make it through the holidays,” she said, filling the pan.
With all the lights off, the tree glowed, a beacon of hope.
“Good night, little tree.” She clicked the lights off and dragged herself upstairs.
Somehow she got her pajamas on. After brushing her teeth, she huddled in her bed, Jamie’s picture on her knees. “See, here’s the thing, Jamie,” she told him. “I really care about Ryan. And I think you’d like the fine man he’s turned out to be. No more reckless stunts. He’s good with the boys.”
Kissing her finger, she pressed it to the glass like always. Setting the picture on her bedside table, she sighed. “If you could give me a sign, Jamie. Let me know that what I’m doing, how I’m feeling about Ryan, well....just let me know it’s okay. Somehow.”
Chapter 12
“Mommy, Mommy!” The boys’ excited voices woke Sarah up the next morning. Bleary-eyed, she stumbled down the stairs.
“What is it?” In the early morning darkness, the lights glowed in the living room. “Did you turn the tree on?”
Nathan’s chin came out. “I’m a big boy.”
Sighing, she slipped onto the sofa, wishing it still held Ryan’s warmth. “I know you are, sweetheart. But what’s the problem? What time is it anyway?”
“The tree.” Sitting cross legged in front of their tiny tree, Justin looked up as if he were seeing Santa himself in those boughs.
The boughs. “My word. What happened?” Who had slipped into the house in the middle of a winter’s night to swap out their pathetic excuse for a Christmas tree for this beauty?
The luscious smell of pine hung in the air, as heavy and thick as the branches on their Christmas tree. Melting onto the sofa, Sarah could only stare. The configuration was the same, but the tree seemed fuller. She drew closer. “The crooked branches had sagged into the bare spaces. The tree still wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs.