“Bravo,” they chorused. “Bravo.”
“Encore,” shouted the tall dark-haired man in the rear. “Let’s have another chorus from the ballerina and auto-harpist.”
He made his way forward, politely but with determination, to where she stood. Talk about carbon copies. Even the mischievous twinkle in his eye was the same as his son’s.
“There wasn’t as much collective courage aboard the Titanic,” he said, and Holly was momentarily dazed at the fanning of laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. “To brazen that thing through... But then you always were a gutsy little girl.”
That, she thought, was back when all the questions had answers. There had been plenty of times since when she hadn’t felt all that gutsy. “Hello, Will.” She straightened her back. “How’ve you been?”
“Making it,” he said, his eyes traveling over her as if refreshing his memory. As if he recalled accompanying her to the school nurse the day she’d practically sliced off her thumb in the paper cutter and then held her other hand the entire time the doctor stitched it up at the hospital.
“Whoever thought you’d grow up to look like this?” he asked. A hint of wonder edged his voice.
She was wary, trying to engage her brain in intelligent thought. “This is what having children will do to you,” she said.
He nodded. “I heard. Now you’re here with Paula while Tim is overseas. You and your daughter.”
He was just Will from long ago. A take-charge, problem-solving, kind man who once upon a time in high school had been a take-charge, problem-solving, kind young man.
Construction paper trees were falling down again, and children pulled at her sleeve, calling to each other from across the room. The mother-helpers tried unsuccessfully to quell the racket. The noise was mind numbing.
He frowned. “We can’t talk here. Can I buy you a cup of coffee later?”
All her mental flags sprang alert. “Uh... I don’t think so. I’m busy.”
One eyebrow arched upward. “I’ll wait,” he said.
She shook her head. “I really do have something to do.”
“Oh?” His eyes questioned hers briefly and then focused over her shoulder. “My young king seems to be bent on seducing the little singer,” he said, a smile pulling at his mouth.
Holly wheeled around. The curtain/sheet bulged slightly in the middle. Stained Nikes showed at floor level, one on either side of pink ballet slippers.
“That’s my daughter,” she snapped. “Lisa, come here, please.”
Will was trying hard not to laugh. For some reason she thought of mistletoe, crisp, green and...and another Christmas, when the world was new. She frowned.
“You’ve got to admit the kid’s got great taste,” Will said, raising an eyebrow.
Lisa, followed by Richard, made her way around the curtain to Holly’s side. She was smiling happily, “You said if we finished by nine o’clock we could stop for a Christmas tree, and we have plenty of time.”
“Christmas trees!” Will draped an arm across Richard’s shoulder. “We know where to find the perfect tree, don’t we, son?”
“Sure. Matt Miller’s lot on the corner. That’s where we got ours.”
“Oh, I don’t think...” Holly began.
Will crooked an arm to look at his watch. “I’ll give everyone fifteen minutes to change clothes and get ready to leave. I’ll even come back tomorrow and help with cleanup. Agreed?”
“But I’m responsible for...”
“Matt locks the gate at nine-thirty, so get cracking. Richard, stir that lazy bunch over there and stuff all that construction paper into trash bags. Lisa—pleased to meet you, little lady—find something else to put on your pretty feet because it’s snowing again. And Mama—Holly—” his eyes seemed to bore all the way down into the pit of her stomach. “...all you have to do is be charming to parents for a few minutes. How’s that for a plan?”
By then it seemed ridiculous to refuse. He was, after all, only Will. It was incredible, but the years hadn’t altered the deep down, solid safeness of this man. Holly nodded. “I’ll give it my best shot,” she said dryly.
True to his word Will had them all out the door and packed snugly into his pickup in fifteen minutes, and five minutes after that they were walking between rows of sweet-smelling Frazer firs and Scotch pine. Canned Christmas music pushed its way into the night air from a speaker high overhead. The continual tinkle of bells from the Salvation Army man on the corner jangled in their ears.
Will introduced her to Matt Miller who remembered Tim. “Sure! Your brother was quarterback the two years in a row we trounced Carlyle.” He pumped Holly’s hand with a firm grip. “Welcome home, little missy. We’re happy to have you back. Anything I can do, you just let old Matt know.”
A warm glow flooded Holly’s being, and she found herself smiling for no reason. “Welcome home,” the man had said. “Welcome home.” It felt good.
But a cautious niggle in the pit of her stomach had her edging far enough away from Will to make sure their shoulders didn’t touch. She didn’t want Matt to think they were together. Together as in a couple.
Will threw the tree into the back of the pickup, and they climbed into the cab, snow melting on their eyelashes, while laughing and humming along with carols on the radio.
“It’s still early. Anyone feel like something hot at the diner?”
Two enthusiastic “yesses” rang out, but one startled “no” stopped the laughter. Holly felt the full chill of the night air. Buying a Christmas tree was one thing; going into a diner with Will and both their children was another.
“I have to get home,” she said finally. “Things to do before tomorrow.”
Protest arose from the back seat. “It’s Saturday!”
“They make good hot chocolate at the diner!”
An escalating argument began that Holly knew from experience could go on all night. She steeled herself.
“But, Mom...”
“It’s way early...”
“That’s enough.” Will spoke softly, but both kids shut up and looked at him. “Mrs. Phillips is entitled to a little respect. This isn’t the night, I guess. We’ll try again another time.”
He didn’t look at her while he drove to the school, dropped her off at her car and followed her home with the tree still in his pickup. Once there he told Richard to stay in the cab. He asked Lisa to go on inside while he talked to her mother for a minute. And Lisa went.
Will took Holly’s arm and steered her a few yards away from the truck and stopped, their feet half-buried in snow.
“Look,” Holly began. “I don’t want...”
He interrupted. “What’s all this business about not being seen with me? You were uncomfortable at the tree stand. No coffee, no hot chocolate at the diner, and if I asked if I could call you’d say no to that, too, wouldn’t you?”
Indignation drained out of Holly. “Yes.”
“I want to know why. If nothing else, we could always talk.”
Holly hedged. “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea. This isn’t the right time to...”
“To what? And why?” His voice was soft. “You’re divorced.”
She was miserable. “You don’t understand what it took for me to get here. It isn’t easy to end a marriage.”
“That was over three years ago. Are you still hung up on the guy?”
“Him? From the divorce? No. The marriage was over almost as soon as it began. It just took me a while to admit it.”
“Then why?”
She wrapped her arms tight around herself and looked away. Down the block, a group of carolers had stopped in a yellow spill of light from a window. In front of her own house, the snow was piled like little peaked hats on the top of fence posts. From across town church bells pealed crystal clear in the cold night air.
“Why?” he urged.
She tried twice to speak. “I’m afraid.” He had to lean closer to hear.
“You don�
��t need to be afraid of me, Holly.” He put one arm around her and drew her close. With the back of his fingers, he traced a gentle line from her eyebrow, down her cheek to her lips. “Do you remember that last Christmas Eve before you left? Under the mistletoe?”
Holly drew a quivering breath against the warmth of his jacket. He smelled of leather and aftershave. She wished she could just lean, to relax her fears, for a minute anyway. That last Christmas was why she was afraid.
She pushed herself away and allowed her eyes to meet his squarely. “You’d better go now. Thanks for the tree. That was nice of you, but that’s all. Really.”
He didn’t try to hold her, but leaned instead against the fence, sending a cascade of loose snow to fall on last summer’s rosebushes.
His mouth creased in a faint smile. “I will see you again, Holly. Don’t try to hide. I’ll be back.”
* * * *
And he was. He was at school the next morning, waiting as promised, to help clean up. She and two mother-helpers cleaned desks, and the children picked up crepe paper and trash, while Will used a broad broom on the floor.
Richard worried about their dog left in the truck. “Buster’s outside all alone. And he’ll be cold.”
“With his thick coat of hair?” Will assured him the temperature was fine for the dog, and they’d cracked the windows so Buster would have plenty of fresh air. Richard looked doubtful, but headed for the trash barrel with an armload of crepe paper.
Lisa followed, looking wistful. A wave of guilt washed over Holly. Squirting the bottle of cleaner/disinfectant on a desk, she polished and then turned to Will.
“Lisa wants a puppy in the worse way,” she said quietly. “I’ve never had a dog, but... I don’t know.”
Will leaned on the broom handle. “There’s no denying they’re extra trouble, at least at first, but the rewards make it worthwhile. Richard’s gaining a sense of responsibility because it’s his job to make sure Buster has fresh water and food. It isn’t perfect, but he’s doing pretty good.”
Holly had pestered her dad for a dog when she was young. She begged for years until she realized that as often as they moved it wouldn’t be practical to have a pet. And there was always her dad and his terrible temper. She’d stopped begging.
Involuntarily Holly’s mind slipped backward. In her cherished Mickey Mouse pajamas, she sat on a kitchen chair while Mama brushed her hair. It was an every night ritual. One hundred strokes. She sat tall in the chair.
Tim argued stubbornly against his need to take a shower. Another every-night ritual. “I didn’t do anything to make me stink today.”
”You had football practice.”
“I showered at the school after. I’m clean.”
“You delivered papers. Pedaling up and down hill... I’m sure you worked up a sweat. But anyway, we shower every night. You know the drill.”
Mama’s hand with the brush stilled when they all heard Dad’s voice coming their way. He hadn’t come home for supper and though they worried, no one gave voice to their concern. They were afraid they knew.
The voice came closer. The drunker he was, the more out of tune he sang. It hurt to listen.
Mama threw the brush on the table, and Holly saw both hands tighten into fists and then deliberately relax. “Quick,” she said calmly. “You know what to do.”
They knew. Behind the sofa, hiding. No talking. No whispering. Knees to their chins so that neither a foot nor a hair showed at an end of the couch. Tim and Holly scrambled to their places. Tim always let Holly crawl in first, pushing from behind to hurry her along.
Her heart thundered in her chest, and her breathing was ragged. She felt Tim’s hot breath on her ankles. They tried hard to breathe soundlessly, but to them their inhale-and-exhales were loud enough to hear outside in the alley.
Holly whispered, “I’m growing hair on my teeth. Can’t he hear how awful he sings?”
“Sh-h-h,” Tim whispered, gripping her arm hard enough to hurt.
Dad reeked of cheap perfume, strong enough that they smelled him from their place behind the sofa. Holly closed her eyes and wished she could close her ears. Please God, don’t let him start hitting Mama. A chair went over and then a lamp. She’d heard the sounds before.
Mama alternately soothed Dad and urged him to bed. Sometimes it worked. The worst was when he refused soothing and ranted and raved, throwing things until he wore himself out, and then he sat at the table crying and reviewing everything that was wrong in his life. He blamed everyone he knew for his troubles before he finally broke into sobs, his head on the table. Often he cried himself to sleep.
Only then could Tim and Holly leave their hiding place and go to their own beds.
* * * *
Today, cleaning up from the play, she wondered if it was possible to erase those memories. She’d been trying for years, but her dad was the only adult male she knew well. Billy Gene didn’t count. He’d never really been an adult.
However, she reminded herself, Will didn’t drink. A single beer once in a while, but nothing else. He was honest and hard working and good with children. And beyond that, he’d been in the forefront of her thinking as the perfect friend throughout the years.
Will held his cup in both hands and blew on the hot liquid. “I got our dog from the Findley farm. They breed Corgis. You haven’t met Buster yet, but you’ll like him.”
Right. She liked Will, and she liked Richard. And she was sure that, because he said so, she’d like Buster, too. Will had all the character qualities she admired, yet something in her chest screeched to a screaming halt at the thought of allowing her feelings to deepen.
“When we finish here...” he began.
“I need to get this room finished,” she interrupted. “I promised Paula I’d go Christmas shopping with her this afternoon.”
Will didn’t push, but went on down the floor with a long sweep of the broom. She frowned as she looked after him. He was a nice guy, but she didn’t know what to do with the quirky jitters she felt in her stomach when he was near. Still, he’d promised to help clean up, and he was keeping his word. Plus, he wasn’t too hard to look at with those wide football shoulders and slightly curly dark hair. Mentally she shook her head. Stop thinking about him. There isn’t any future there.
With great effort, she did—almost.
* * * *
On Sunday, he surprised her by showing up at church, a subdued and very quiet Richard in tow. He made a point of hesitating on the steps to talk.
“Before I left the house I put a roast in the crock pot. Can I interest you and Lisa in dinner?”
“Uh... Thanks, but no thanks. I have other plans. But it was nice of you to offer.”
His eyes were shuttered with disappointment, but he only nodded and said, “Sure. Another time.”
He turned to go, but Holly found herself not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Can you really cook?”
He stood with one foot on a lower step. “I’m strictly an amateur, but Richard’s prejudiced. He thinks I’m okay.” He raised one eyebrow and cocked his head. “Actually, my culinary skills are the envy of half the women in town. It’s your loss.” He went on down the steps, calling over his shoulder, “And pumpkin pie.”
Holly almost wished she was brave enough to take him up on the invitation. Almost, but not quite.
* * * *
One afternoon when she left her car at the shop for some minor repair, he appeared in time to take her home. He never mentioned stopping for coffee, never asked her out to dinner, and once—just once—he kissed her. It amounted to a light peck on her cheek, but it set all her nerve endings on alert. She had agreed to go with him to a play in the city. She almost cancelled a dozen times, but he’d be stuck with tickets he couldn’t use, and besides the play was one she really wanted to see.
Her nerves kept her on edge all evening. She relaxed when they left the theater. All those butterflies for nothing. They discussed the play all the way home in the car and laughed. T
hey did a lot of laughing, and Holly acknowledged to herself that she’d rarely enjoyed herself so much. He walked her to the door and buzzed her cheek before she was aware of his intention.
“Just so you remember who I am,” he’d said and left.
Holly stood for long minute with one hand on the cheek he’d kissed. She stood until his car was out of sight.
* * * *
He introduced her to everyone they met as “my friend who moved back to town,” and before three weeks were out she was being hailed from across the street and greeted in the supermarket. Deep inside Holly, a stubborn coil of resistance began to unravel. He was indeed just Will, and she began to feel as if maybe this might really be home one day. Actually, it was with Will that she felt most at home. Was this what love was like? Would she recognize it if or when it came along?
Every morning when she awakened, her first thought was of Will. What would he be doing on the farm? Would she see him that day? She’d heard of love at first sight, but—well, this wasn’t exactly first sight, she’d known him since high school. But she had only thought of him in terms of friendship. Deep friendship, but this was more than that. Could it be love? Real love? She’d promised herself that she’d never allow herself to open her heart to another man. But it seemed she had no choice in the matter.
They kept meeting accidentally—at the frozen yogurt shop, at the Y pool for Richard and Lisa’s lessons and at the bank. They made plans and took the children ice-skating. Lisa thought it great fun that she could skate better than her mom.
They took a car trip to St. Louis and the butterfly gardens. Lisa moved as if she had a book on her head when a brilliant blue butterfly landed on top of her curls and decided to take a nap. While in the city, they rode to the top of the arch and marveled at the sweep of the mighty Mississippi. A picnic in the snow was a huge success. They warmed their hands and faces as they toasted s’mores by the bonfire, while their backsides were still uncomfortably cold. To top it off, snow began to fall. It was a magical evening, looking into the night sky while snow sifted all around them and the s’mores melted in their hands.
Frozen: A Winter Romance Anthology Page 39
