by Aria Ford
Well, I have the gifts sorted at least.
With a smile of contentment, I gathered up the bag of gifts and headed to my sitting room. He could do his worst now, for I was all set for presents. I’d bought Brett a new leather wallet—the socks and chocolates were a filler. No matter what he sprung on me now, I was ready. As I checked my mails, I heard a message tone.
Speak of the devil. It was Brett. I read his message, grinning wryly.
I just remembered: will you come for Christmas? Reese and I are off from tomorrow. Would love to see you. Let me know today?
I rolled my eyes, my heart warming with the typical Brett-ness of the message. Spontaneous, generous and forgetful, that was my big brother all rolled into one. Four years my senior and settled down with two small kids and a wife, Reese. He was still as unpredictable as when he was a kid.
I didn’t need to think about my reply.
Great! I’ll drive through tomorrow. Should I bring something?
I was lonely here in Berkeley although my brother’s home on the outskirts of LA was not too far away. Here in Berkeley, there was just me and Jess, my friend from work. Who else would I spend Christmas with if not Brett? Not only would it be amazing to see him again, but the added draw of the kids was irresistible. Cayley was now ten and Josh almost eight years old; both of them all bright eyes and endless questions. It would be perfect to see them at Christmas.
I barely had to wait for the reply. It came back instantly.
Just yourself, Mel. We’ll have enough for the six of us for dinner.
I read that through twice before I noticed the inconsistency.
Six of us?
I could only count five. Me, Brett and Reese, and two kids. Who was the sixth person? I whizzed off a reply.
Six? Brett, have you miscounted?
It seemed he was taking longer than usual to send back a reply, so I leaned back and contemplated that, trying to guess who the sixth guest could be, if it wasn’t just Brett’s typing mistake. It wouldn’t be our mom. She was spending Christmas in Michigan with her partner, Gareth. Of Brett and Reese’s friends, there were very few of them who didn’t have partners or families; so it was unlikely to be just one person if it was one of them.
Unless…
My heart stopped. There was only one person I knew who would come alone.
It can’t be.
But it was. Just as I reached the conclusion by myself, a message came back through from Brett. Heart thumping, I read through it. It confirmed my worst expectations.
Oh! Sorry, sis. Forgot to tell you. Reese and I invited Carson Grant. That okay?
I sighed. If I gave the true answer, I would have flashed back, “absolutely not”. Or would I? I leaned back, thinking about it. Carson Grant had been my boyfriend, once upon a time. He was Brett’s friend first, though, which made things difficult. Tall, dark and brooding, Carson had captured my heart back in tenth grade when Brett had brought him home from a college football match.
I closed my eyes, trying in vain to shut down the memories that were flooding my mind. Carson and I in the movie theater together. At home in the garden, under the tree, kissing. Making love. Carson had been my first lover and, I had to admit, the best one.
He left me, I reminded myself. He ended things.
Even so, as I reached for my phone and replied to my brother’s request, I couldn’t help the fact that my heart was thudding, my spirit anticipating. Carson. I hadn’t seen him for years. Not since he left me and joined the military, in fact. What would it be like to see him again?
It wasn’t like I could refuse to. Brett would be upset and I wanted to see my brother and his family, and had no other plans for Christmas. If I demanded he leave his best friend out of it, I don’t think he’d be too happy. And besides, astonishing though it seemed to me, I wanted to. Maybe I’m just a sucker for punishment. We’re all adults, so I can handle this.
Even so, my reply was brief but affirmative.
Okay. See you tomorrow ‘round lunch. That okay?
The reply came back at once again.
Awesome! The kids are so excited! See you, sis! Hugs.
I couldn’t help a smile at that. I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes, shopping forgotten. What would it be like, to see Carson again? I tried to imagine what he might look like now. Probably bald, I told myself harshly, with hard eyes and no sense of humor.
The latter was not overly-hard to imagine: Carson had always been serious. It was one of the things that drew me to him from the beginning; that dark, brooding quality that had set him apart from the rowdy crowd that usually surrounded Brett. I had liked him from the moment I saw him, mostly for that quiet, serious side. I wondered how his years in the army had changed him.
Is he still tall, dark and quiet?
Handsome went without mentioning; he had always been that. The same way a skyscraper is always so high up it hurts to look up from ground level. My memories of him when he was twenty, and I sixteen, I used and built a picture of him in my mind. He was tall, with black hair and deep brown eyes, a firm jaw and the straightest, most handsome nose I ever saw. Combined with high cheekbones and a full, mobile mouth, Carson could have walked out of a Disney movie as the handsome prince. Except that Disney never invented handsome princes with the quiet, distant character of someone from the “Twilight” saga.
Carson, I thought, sighing. I always did love you.
That was why it had hurt so much when, somewhat abruptly, he had decided to end things. He had called to say he had finally decided to join the military. His dad was in the army, so it seemed the natural course for him after finishing his time at college, and then we split just like that.
I never really understood why, and he had never really explained. Too arrogant, probably, to think his actions needed explanation. He had always come across as thinking of himself as better than others; probably simply because he kept himself to himself a lot and people assumed he was stuck-up. I knew better; or at least I thought I did. After his sudden betrayal, I didn’t know.
He might have said something.
It had all been so sudden. And so complete. From being connected, we had suddenly been strangers. He had never contacted, never let me know how he was; hadn’t even agreed to be friends, which is what I had hoped. I didn’t want to lose touch with him. I might only have been eighteen, but I could have waited. Could have endured the time for which he was serving. Back then, he had thought it might only be a year or two.
Now, ten years later, time had proved it otherwise. He had made the military his career, and gone off to Iraq. I followed the news for a while, wishing I knew if he was okay. Brett had stayed in touch, so I knew he was still alive, and safe. I also knew he had returned earlier this year.
I hadn’t expected him to come for Christmas.
Brett, I thought, tired, you really know how to drop me in it.
Beside his liveliness and his impulsiveness, another defining characteristic of my big brother was being blameless. He was so cheeky and charming that he only had to smile and people automatically let him off the hook, even when he had done something naughty when we were kids. The blame usually either dissolved or shifted, somehow and inexorably, to me. I spent quite some time as a kid explaining away some of Brett’s blunders or crazy pranks.
Now, he’s done something rather worse than put glue on dad’s shoes or hidden mum’s books.
Putting me on the spot with Carson was something Brett would do without thinking. I knew him well enough to know that he hadn’t considered the ramifications of that. Probably, he thought of Carson as a buddy from college and forgot he ever was anything to do with me. That would be typical.
Even though I was angry with my big brother right now, I knew I would forgive him. Just one big, silly grin and I would have my arms around him, laughing and teasing.
But Carson? I wasn’t too sure.
I sighed, feeling a familiar ache in my heart as I thought about it. I wasn’t sure
how I felt about Carson currently. Anger was a big part of it; both at his betrayal, at what I felt were his lies. If he really didn’t feel strongly he shouldn’t have led me to believe it. But was it only anger?
No, I decided, draining my cocoa, the love was there too. It had never really gone away, which had caused its own problems, since no one I had met since then could quite compare with him.
The trouble with Carson was that he had spoiled me for anyone else. From his good looks to his sexy ways and the peculiar tenderness with which he always treated me, Carson was wonderful. I had plenty of dates since then, but no one had quite affected me as he had. And now he was back in my life.
It’s only for two weeks, Amelia. Don’t be so dramatic.
I stood, feeling suddenly weary, and stretched. I caught sight of myself in the window-pane, the sky already black beyond the windows. Tall and pale, with big blue eyes and curly honey-brown hair, I had never really considered myself a beauty, though Jess always said I’d be stunning if I made more of myself. When we went shopping together, she was always encouraging me to show my figure off more, to dress in a way that highlighted my own brand of good looks. I put my head on one side, contemplating the woman in the window’s reflections.
What would Carson think of me?
I shook my head. Come on, Amelia. Stop being silly. He’s visiting Brett. He probably didn’t even know I was invited. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have accepted Brett’s kind invitation. I was being harsh to myself, and I knew it. Trying to pretend I didn’t care, and that I didn’t care how he felt. I did.
“The stupid, stuck-up, thoughtless…” I sighed, trailing off, and headed to the kitchen to find myself a cup of tea. Who was I fooling?
I still loved Carson Grant. Likely always would. I was trying to harden myself against the possibility that he really did feel indifferent toward me. But did he? He certainly hadn’t always acted as if he was. When we first met, the connection was instant. And it had never died. Not for me. Not, as far as I could see, for him either. Not until he left me.
“Come on, Amelia,” I said aloud. “Go and get ready.”
If I was driving to LA tomorrow, I should pack now and wrap the gifts I’d brought. I wondered, idly, if I should get something for Carson.
Probably not, I thought harshly. Why would he want something from me?
I had given him my heart years ago and it seemed he’d not wanted that either. Now, ten years later, I was starting to discover that he still had it. Which was why, I guessed, I’d never fallen for anyone else the way I had for him.
Maybe this was for the best I decided, as I took clothes out of the cupboard and started to plan what to take along for the trip. If nothing else, there was a lot of unfinished business between us. Perhaps my Christmas gift this year was going to be to unpack it all and truly start afresh.
There’s no point in holding onto past wounds, I reminded myself as I folded my favorite sweater and packed it into my trunk. I will feel so much happier if I can finally lay this ghost to rest. After all, ten years is a long time. It was time to heal and to let myself learn how to love again.
Being an accountant has some advantages, one of which is being neat by habit. It took me about ten minutes to find everything I needed for a week in my wardrobe—casual sweaters in the pile on the left, jeans second from the right on the hanging rack. I leaned back, hands clasped, and let out a ragged sigh as I surveyed my completed case.
I might be neat, but my heart is a mess right now.
Perhaps this holiday was a chance to fix that.
CHAPTER TWO
Carson
When Brett invited me to his house for Christmas, I wasn’t sure what to say. I sat down in the sitting room of my small but stylish Colorado apartment, a coffee at hand, and closed my eyes, trying to think.
I had no idea what to say. It wasn’t just the fact that I might have other commitments. It was the fact that I had to think really hard about this invitation: It had been a year since I last saw my best friend Brett. And besides, we had history. In our case, that history has a name that belongs to his younger sister. Amelia.
Brett’s little sister Amelia that is. She was the first thing that sprang to my mind when he contacted me earlier today. I guess it shouldn’t have been, since Brett was my buddy and that was all ten years ago. Despite all that, the thought of Brett didn’t bring back memories of him, but of his sister. Something about those blue eyes of hers would always be haunting me.
My heart clenched tight just thinking of it and I ran a weary hand over my dark hair. I would like to say I hadn’t thought about her for years, but I’d be lying to myself. From the plane to Iraq to the battlefield and back again, she had been standing on the edge of my thoughts.
I thought back to my memories of her. She was so beautiful. I remember kissing her for the first time, in the street outside her house. She made me want to scream out loud, with her clouds of soft hair and the sweet softness of her mouth on mine, clinging to my lips. I was twenty, she was sixteen and I was the luckiest boy on earth. She gave herself to me and I know I didn’t deserve her to. I never did deserve her.
That was why I left her. That; and the fact that I thought I might as well die. When I left college, I knew I wanted to follow my heart and join the military. Which meant, at that time, that I might not come back. That was back when the troops were going straight to Iraq and many weren’t coming back. Amelia didn’t deserve to her first boyfriend die on her. She deserved better than me.
What will she say if she sees me, now?
I sighed. The mirror on the wall showed me a different face to the one she would have remembered. Ten years older, for a start, but it wasn’t just that. It was the new hardness there. The lines, the angles, the expression in his eyes that was different—sadder, more remote. My face was a little more weather-beaten than it might have been, though it was still lean and strong. My hair was still dark and my body hard with the training.
I’m still good-looking, I guess. But would that be enough?
Even as I thought it, I wanted to kick myself. I shouldn’t care if I looked like the back end of a freight truck. I was not—absolutely not—going to get involved with Amelia Carlyle again. Not for anyone.
“Besides,” I said, “she might not even be there.” Why should she be? She is Brett’s little sister, after all. He’s married, now, with a lovely wife and two small kids. Maybe she’s somewhere else for Christmas. Maybe married too.
That thought made my throat tight and I felt angry about it. The level of the anger surprised me. If I really had moved on, I should have been glad to think she had too, but apparently, I hadn’t.
Come on, Carson! Decide, for pity’s sakes!
I had to send Brett a reply now. I couldn’t spoil his plans by keeping him waiting. I drew in a deep breath and raised my fingers to type. I sent two simple words. Yes. Thanks.
When that was done I leaned back with a big, shaky sigh and looked up at the ceiling. That was surprisingly difficult. Well, I’d done it now. For better or worse, I was going to tie up the loose ends of that part of my past.
I stood and walked through to the kitchen. At that moment, my phone rang. I ran through and grabbed it, tripping over the couch as I did so.
“Carson?”
“Ah…Brett!” I breathed hard through my nose. Falling over had hurt. My shin hit the edge of the table, and it was throbbing badly.
“Hey! Bro! What’s up? You sound rough.”
“Um…nothing, Brett. Just fine! What’s up?” I said through gritted teeth, hissing out as my shin throbbed under my fingers.
“Well, if you say so,” he said, sounding hesitant to believe me. “I just got your message. That’s great! The twenty-first work okay for you, man?”
“Uh…that’s tomorrow, right?” I asked. My heart did a flip.
“Yes.” Brett paused. “Are you sure that everything’s okay, Carson?” He sounded concerned.
“I’m fine!” I snappe
d. I hadn’t meant to lose my temper with him. That’s one of the problems with me—I have a short fuse at the moment. My doctor tells me it’s from the trauma. I try not to believe him.
“Whoa, Carson. I’m sorry, man.”
I sighed. “It’s not your fault, Brett. I’m just stressing right now. I’m really sorry.”
“No problem, bro. Just glad you’ll make it.”
“Sure, I will.”
“Good,” he said. “I should go—gotta get the kids from school.”
“Okay,” I said, relieved I would be able to express the agony of my sore shin when he went off. And maybe put some baked beans on it or something. “Looking forward to seeing you!”
“Great! Amelia will be so pleased to see you. Bye!”
“Brett…wait!” I said. But he had already hung up. I leaned back on the sofa.
Maybe he meant to say Reese. But no, Brett wasn’t the kind of guy to get mixed up between his sister and his wife, and he’d said it. Amelia. I closed my eyes.
Amelia is going to be there? Alone? Single?
“Brett,” I said aloud, not sure whether it was the sore shin or something else that made me feel so completely defeated. “What are you doing to me?”
I absolutely did not need to see Amelia, but now it seemed I was going to. On Christmas Day. Was this a Christmas miracle or disaster waiting to happen?
Funnily enough, as I limped through to the kitchen and held a pack of cold peas on my shin-bone, I couldn’t help but feel excited about seeing her again.
I wonder how she’s changed?
I recalled her as a beautiful, lively seventeen-year-old. At twenty-seven, what would she be like? I formed a picture in my head, or tried to, from memory and imagination. She was tall, fair-haired with those soft blue eyes and a smile that could melt hearts at fifty paces. I had loved her at first sight. I still had feelings for her.
