Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball

by Donita K. Paul

  Cora stretched the tension out of her shoulders as she stood and crossed the living room to open the door.

  Simon stood on her doorstep, holding a box of pizza. Balanced on the top, a cardboard carrier held three drinks.

  Cora stepped back to let him enter. “You got pizza at Meetza Pizza of Yo’ Life and drinks from Creamery Delights? Why go to two places?”

  Simon put the pizza on her dining room table and lifted a paper cup out of the carrier. “Because Meetza Pizza didn’t have ice cream sodas. And according to Mr. Kinnaught, an ice cream soda is a necessary component of courting.”

  He held the cold drink out to her, and she took it automatically. Her face warmed, and her stomach fluttered.

  Sandy jumped up. “I’ll get plates.” She went into Cora’s tiny kitchen and washed her hands.

  Cora looked past Simon, and his smile turned to a frown. “You look upset. Don’t you like floats?”

  “I think the word ‘courting’ has me a bit off kilter.” She watched Sandy get three plates from the cupboard, then pull out a stack of napkins and three forks.

  Watching Sandy efficiently handle the chore gave Cora something to admire. Something to distract her. Distraction was good, right? Especially when she felt flustered and out of her depth. The way this conversation had started diametrically opposed how she thought their relationship would begin. Slow. Cautious. Beating around the bush for months.

  Not like this. Not like one day he’s my boss’s boss and the next, he’s my beau.

  She preferred beating around the bush for months.

  “I’ve asked you out on a date. Do you prefer the word ‘dating’ over ‘courting’?”

  Cora swallowed. Simon’s voice had gone stiff. She’d heard him talk to employees when he was displeased, and he never sounded anything but cordial. But he’d just gone cold with her. She risked a quick glance and saw the muscles in his jaw working.

  Sandy brought in the plates and set the table quickly. “Give me your coat, Simon, and I’ll hang it up.”

  Her brother complied, silently. Sandy walked off with his blue parka.

  Cora felt the need to say something. She prepared herself for the onslaught that would surely come. Stiff muscles strangled her throat. She managed to speak, but her eyes would not look above the buttons on his shirt. “I’ve never dated much. I’m not good at it.”

  She heard a whoosh of air as Simon seemed to deflate. “I haven’t either. But I don’t believe in casual dating. You know, the kind portrayed in movies and on TV.”

  Sandy pulled out a chair next to Cora and gently pushed her into it. “We don’t watch TV, Simon.”

  “Well, that’s one of the reasons we don’t.” He sat in the chair Sandy pointed to.

  Sandy circled the table and sat on the other side. She took Simon’s hand and then Cora’s and bowed her head. Without allowing her eyes to meet his, Cora stretched her arm toward Simon. Tension ebbed out of her body when his large hand gently cradled hers.

  Sandy prayed, “Dear Jesus, thank You for this pizza and the ice cream sodas. Help Simon and Cora look at You and only You. Forgive me for wanting the kitten now. I know it would be bad to take one away from its mama this soon. Help me wait. Help me decide on which kitten. Help me find a good name. Amen.”

  Sandy looked up and smiled. “I love pizza.”

  “I do too.” Cora opened the box. “Oh my! This is my favorite kind!”

  Sandy laughed out loud. “That’s why I got the forks. Simon always gets Mount Much-More.”

  Cora gestured for Sandy to hand over her plate. “I’ll have to slide the plate under to catch the shifting veggies and meat.”

  She served Simon next and then got a slice for herself. She took a sip of the ice cream soda. “Mmm! What kind is this?”

  Simon talked out of the side of his mouth, successfully hiding the pizza he chewed. “Two scoops of chocolate in black-cherry cream soda.”

  “It’s delicious.” Cora took another large draw on her straw. “Yikes!” Pain radiated through her sinuses. “Yeow!”

  “Brain freeze,” declared Sandy. “Save her, Simon. Save her!”

  Simon jumped from his seat, stood behind Cora, and placed his hands over her face. “Don’t worry. I’m a professional.” His index fingers pushed down under her eyes. His thumbs pressed against her temples. He gently massaged in an up-and-down motion.

  “Better?” he whispered in her ear.

  A pleasant haze replaced the pain. “Yes.”

  “You have to take tiny sips,” Sandy said.

  Cora nodded ever so carefully. She didn’t want to interrupt the soothing massage.

  “When you forget,” continued Sandy in a rather irritating, officious tone, “you get a brain freeze.”

  Simon’s fingers stopped, and his hands dropped down to Cora’s shoulders where small circular motions with his thumbs did another kind of magic. “Don’t be such a know-it-all, Sandy. Remember? The tone of voice we use can be offensive.”

  “Kettle black,” said Sandy.

  Cora opened her eyes to see sweet Sandy glaring at her brother.

  The pot calling the kettle black. What was she referring to?

  Simon patted Cora’s shoulder and sat down. “Sandy’s right. I owe you an apology, Cora. I spoke to you in anger.”

  Cora’s eyes popped open. Their little discussion about courting? That was anger?

  She grinned at the absurdity. Her family could show them what a real fight sounded like. The next thought erased her smile. “Am I supposed to apologize to you too? Did I sound like a fishwife?”

  Sandy burst into laughter. “What’s a fishwife? A lady married to a fish?”

  “More like a woman married to someone who fishes commercially,” Cora explained. “She takes his catch and goes up and down the streets, yelling for people to come out and buy the fish.”

  “People really do that?”

  “I really don’t think they do it anywhere anymore. I know they did it in England years ago. The women had shrill voices and used crude language. That’s why if you sound like an argumentative woman, someone might call you a fishwife.”

  “I don’t think Simon would call you a fishwife. But he doesn’t like arguing. No one in our family does. ‘A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.’ ” Sandy took a sip of her ice cream soda. “I’m not good at my tone all the time. Simon has to remind me.” Then she grinned. “So I get to remind him sometimes too.”

  Cora shook her head slowly. “That’s amazing.”

  Sandy took a big bite of pizza, and a word came out that sounded something like “Whuh?”

  “Why? Because my family never stops arguing. None of them are Christian. I’m sort of the white sheep. Growing up, I spent a lot of time in my closet with my head under blankets to muffle the noise of the fights.

  “I loved school because if you fought, you had to go to the principal’s office, so the classrooms were more or less peaceful. I did really well at school, so I got scholarships to go to college.” Cora paused. “That was when my mother kicked me out.”

  Simon frowned at her. “Why’d she do that?”

  “I’d gotten too uppity. No one was teaching me about the soft-answer thing. I wasn’t as feisty as my siblings, or as loud, but I certainly knew a better vocabulary. And my mom thought I used the grand words to prove I was better than them. She didn’t like that.”

  Sandy’s big eyes pooled tears of compassion. “She threw you out. Did that make you sad?”

  “Actually, it was kind of a relief. I didn’t have to report in and maybe get backhanded.”

  Sandy’s eyes flew to Simon’s face.

  He nodded. “Yes, that means they hit her.”

  Sandy gasped. “That’s horrible.”

  Cora smiled at her dismay. “Well, it is, but I didn’t know it was horrible, because that was just part of my normal life.” She patted Sandy’s arm. “Don’t worry about it. The story gets better.”

 
“Oh good.” Sandy took another big bite.

  Simon looked at Cora. “Will you tell us, please?”

  “I went to the college, but my scholarship didn’t cover housing. I told the academic advisor that I would probably have to drop my classes. She said to wait, and she gave me five dollars to go get a sandwich. When I came back in a few hours, she had found a home that would take me in. And that’s when God put His hand on me and said, ‘Here I am.’ ”

  “Wow!” Sandy wiped her hands on her napkin and reached for a second piece of Mount Much-More pizza. “I’ve always had a Christian family. I’m glad.”

  The laden pizza wedge wobbled in her hand, threatening to dump the mountain of veggies and meat. Simon grabbed Sandy’s plate and rescued her from the avalanche. She grinned and picked up her fork to tackle the mangled mess in front of her.

  Cora steered the conversation away from herself and asked Sandy questions about her life.

  “I like working with old people,” Sandy said. “Little kids are too quick and get away from you. I help in the church preschool sometimes, and those kids are just everywhere at once. So mostly I work in the Mountain Climbers’ room.”

  “Mountain Climbers?”

  Simon laughed. “Senior citizens. They named their own group. They say that ever since they made it over the hill, all the other hills seem like mountains. So they are the Mountain Climbers.”

  Cora chuckled. “At least they still have their sense of humor. But Sandy, what do you do in there?”

  “Lots of things. I pick up things they drop on the floor. I help them find stuff. Now that it’s winter, they wear tons of clothes, and I help them put on all those sweaters and jackets and heavy coats and gloves and scarves and hats and boots. I help them get buttoned and zipped and to the right door to meet their families. They really need me.” Sandy cast Cora a sly grin. “And they’re too slow to get away.”

  “And,” said Simon, “they love her to pieces.”

  Sandy beamed and nodded her head.

  When they could not eat one more bite, Simon stored the rest of the pizza in the fridge.

  “Let’s go.” Sandy had already picked up her coat.

  Simon peeked out of the kitchen. “Go where?”

  “To get Cora’s dress.”

  Cora didn’t think about the tone of her voice. It lowered on its own accord and came out in a slow rumble. “Sannnndeee.”

  “It’s all right, Cora.” Simon walked out of the kitchen. “Do you have something else planned?”

  She took a deep breath. Simon was going to be reasonable. She could be reasonable too. It might take a lot of practice to learn to be as reasonable as he was, but she was going to try. “No, but maybe you do. I told Sandy not to force you into going.”

  “I did my Christmas shopping this morning. As long as Sandy doesn’t look in the trunk …”

  Sandy’s eyes brightened.

  Simon grinned. “We can go shopping.”

  “Hurray!” his sister shouted.

  “And come to think of it, I need to get a costume as well.”

  Cora cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “I thought I could fit into a costume I had from a play eight years ago, but … um … my physique has changed a bit.” Simon pointed a finger at Sandy. “Let’s ask Cora if she would like to spend her afternoon with us.”

  “Would you?” Sandy’s face read like a book. Cora could see that the girl was praying silently for a positive answer.

  Cora put Sandy out of her misery. “Yes, I’ll come. Walking along Sage Street is just the thing to work off some of that delicious lunch.”

  “Get your coat,” ordered Sandy. “And everyone better take a bathroom break before we go.” She threw her coat back on the couch before heading down the hall.

  Cora caught Simon looking at her out of the corner of his eye, waiting for her reaction.

  She shrugged. “Well, she’s right.”

  They both burst out laughing. Simon took a moment to stop chuckling. He crouched beside the kittens and stroked each in turn with one large finger. “Has she shown any preferences?”

  “She prefers them all.”

  “An equal-opportunity kitty lover.”

  “Sandy’s very sweet.”

  Simon nodded. “Most of the time.”

  Most of the time? Hey, that meant even Sandy didn’t achieve the higher walk all the time.

  Simon and his sister drove her nuts. Of course, they knew more about the right way to celebrate Christmas, and she took the opportunities to observe and catch their method. But their example of being nonjudgmental emphasized her shortcomings. Maybe training herself to be a good Christian was a hopeless task.

  She casually glanced at the two as they prepared to go out in the cold.

  They made Christianity look so easy. Could it really be easy?

  Simon excused himself and headed down the hall. Sandy slipped into her coat and struggled to get the zipper started.

  “Need help?” asked Cora.

  “No, thanks. It’s just old and getting stubborn.”

  The zipper cooperated, and Sandy grinned. “Simon says you’d make a great mother.”

  Cora thought her eyebrows would shoot off the top of her head. “He does?”

  Sandy put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “He does!”

  10

  “It’s got to be here someplace.” Sandy’s plaintive whine pinched Simon’s already irritated nerves. Traffic downtown reminded him of the tangled light strings he and Spence had unraveled at the nursing home.

  Cora looked over her shoulder from the passenger seat. “You’re right. It has to be here. A whole street doesn’t just disappear. Navigating this traffic is like trying to brush a tiger’s teeth.”

  Simon spied Sandy’s puzzled expression in the rearview mirror.

  Cora laughed. “Maybe that’s not the best simile. I had a picture in my mind of the cars being the tiger’s teeth. We’re trying to maneuver through them without getting snapped.”

  “Floss,” said Simon from behind the wheel. “Slipping in and out between the cars.”

  Cora wrinkled her nose. “That’s not a very appealing simile either.”

  “What’s a simile?” asked Sandy. She looked to Cora for an answer.

  “When you compare something to something else to get a better picture of it in your head. The clouds look like cotton balls. The edge of the snow shovel is sharp like a knife. You usually use the word ‘like’ in the comparison.”

  Sandy squinted her eyes and pursed her lips. “She held the doll like a baby. Kids like candy.”

  Cora chuckled. “The first one is a simile, but the second just says what kids do. They like candy. To make it a simile the kids would have to be like candy in some way. The kids were sweet like candy.”

  “Okay.” Sandy concentrated. After a minute she opened her eyes wide. “The ketchup looked like a line of blood on the hot dog.”

  Simon and Cora laughed.

  “Good,” said Simon, “but kind of morbid.”

  Sandy giggled. “Morbid is creepy, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll try again.” She thought for a minute. “They sat in the front seat like a husband and wife.”

  Simon did not comment on the sentence. Was Sandy coy or clueless? Better not delve into the possibilities.

  “Similes can also use the word ‘as.’ The poinsettia was as red as …” Cora paused. “Oh good night, what’s the same shade of red as a poinsettia?”

  “Your face,” Simon supplied.

  He interpreted Cora’s look to mean, “Watch it, buster.”

  Before she could respond, Sandy spoke up. “I want to do one.”

  Simon spotted his destination. “Too late. We’re here.”

  Cora looked out the front window. “At work?”

  “At the parking garage. We can walk faster than we can drive through that traffic. And where did we think we were going to park once we got there?”

&n
bsp; “Brilliant,” said Sandy. “No more wasted time in the car.”

  Simon felt the same way, except he had been enjoying the game of making similes with Sandy and the comfortable presence of his new friend.

  Simon escorted Cora as they walked through the crowd of holiday shoppers. Sandy preferred to examine the store windows up close. Simon kept an eye on her so she didn’t wander too far ahead or stop to gaze into a display while they walked on.

  Downtown’s renovated district provided lots of opportunities to spend money. Simon expected Cora to be window shopping, but she seemed content to walk on, glancing in the windows and, more often, watching people. She did stop at a display Sandy wanted her to see. Simon didn’t find the miniature ceramic village interesting enough to stand and ogle it.

  “Let’s keep moving,” he said. “The perfect dress awaits.” He dislodged Cora from the window by putting her arm through his and giving a slight tug. Sandy followed.

  Having Cora’s gloved hand tucked in his arm felt right. Had she really worked at Sorenby’s for five years? Of course, he’d known she was part of his staff for a long time. After all, he read the reviews. He had a passing thought once in a while that she was a good employee. But he’d never noticed the honey color of her hair, the dimple near the right corner of her mouth, or her brown eyes. That expression of merriment that sometimes brightened her face literally awakened something joyful in his staid and proper heart.

  Snow sifted down from gray clouds like fine powdered sugar. He squeezed Cora’s arm. “Ice cream soda, a walk in the snow.”

  She looked up at him, startled, then smiled.

  He pointed to Sandy in front of a shoe shop to deflect her attention. What was the matter with him? Doing the romantic bit was totally out of his league. Words popped out of his mouth before he even knew he was thinking them and made him sound like a fool. He’d figured he had blown it again with that last inane statement. At least he hadn’t mentioned courtship again.

  Cora matched his pace, and they walked together with easy companionship.

  They turned into Sage Street, and the crowd immediately thinned. Simon stopped and turned to look back. Throngs of people crossed the intersection without even looking their way.