Christmas Kisses

by Lori Copeland

  She didn’t know what he did, and no one else had seemed to know either. But she was surprised when she heard he was back in Morning Sun, staying in David’s house while Dave and his wife were away on an archeological dig.

  She sighed, sticking the last decoration on the window. He was going on with his life. She was still single. Only once had she come close to an engagement to Jerald Morrisey, and Aunt Harry was still Aunt Harry.

  She’d thought about putting Harriet in a health care facility, but that wasn’t practical. Neither she nor Harry had the money for her to go to one of those fancy nursing homes, and the state run institution was two hours away. Beth wouldn’t get there as often as she should, so she decided to keep things as they were. Besides, she had promised her mom that she would look after Harry, at least until she had family of her own. She released a deep sigh.

  And that hadn’t happened, nor was it likely to, especially when the men in Morning Star saw Aunt Harry wearing a flowered muumuu, racing after the trash truck, waving an empty milk carton, her hair done up in those horrible psychedelic Velcro hair rollers.

  Her one serious romance with Jerald had ended when she’d told him she could not leave Aunt Harry in Morning Sun. During the three years they’d dated, Jerald had been away during the week at school, and he had been full of advice about what she should do with Aunt Harry. It hadn’t been much of a decision to tell him to go on to New York to set up his practice without her. Actually it had been a relief when he’d left. She could not picture herself married to a psychiatrist anyway.

  Her gaze focused on Russ’s trim backside as he bent over to tie his shoe. Oh yes, he got better looking all the time.

  Beth Davis, stop this! She dropped the curtain back into place. She was going to have to get over this juvenile crush some time. She tried practicing reverse psychology, by pretending Russ looked like Ralphie Mencuso. Ralphie, a fellow classmate, was forty pounds overweight now with a disgusting pizza and beer belly, and, if gossip was to be believed, fallen arches and prostate problems.

  Leaning against the windowsill, she peered around the curtain, watching Russ disappear down the sidewalk.

  Ralphie Mencuso—nah, Ralphie he was most definitely not.

  * * *

  SATURDAY MORNING was downright cold. The radio announcer predicted two inches of snow before evening. Having numerous errands to run, Beth had put on a hot-pink running suit. She pulled her gingerbrown hair into a thick ponytail, ran a light coat of lipgloss over her mouth, then went downstairs to breakfast.

  “Enchilada casserole just coming out of the oven!” Aunt Harry sang out as Beth walked into the kitchen.

  “Sounds perfect.” Beth was accustomed to offbeat breakfasts. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen eggs and bacon on the table in the morning.

  Harry danced a Spanish jig around Beth, a plastic rose in her mouth, clicking her heels, and snapping her fingers like castanets. “Sefiorita Beth, pleeze make the coffee. I em not soo good at eet.”

  Beth smiled to herself. Aunt Harry never did make decent coffee so the task always fell to Beth. Not that she minded.

  Harriet whisked out of the room, and a moment later, Beth heard the front door open, and the screen door flap shut. After several minutes, she went to check on Aunt Harry. She often forgot why she went outside. Just as Beth reached the front door, it opened, and Harry appeared, dragging none other than Russ Foster in her wake.

  “But you look cold, and don’t tell me you’ve had breakfast. You haven’t eaten my enchilada casserole.” Aunt Harry spotted Beth. “Look, it’s Senorita Beth! Guess who I found jogging by the house? Little Davie Foster. Dave, this is Bethany, my sister Alice’s daughter. No…Bethany is my niece.” She frowned. “Which is it Beth?” She didn’t leave time to answer, but continued, “Oh never mind. Bethany, you remember Davie, don’t you? I’ve invited him in for breakfast. Pour the boy a cup of coffee.”

  Russ stood in the doorway, decidedly uncomfortable. He was taller than Beth remembered, or perhaps it was just that the living room was so crowded with prizes he took up all the extra space.

  Her gaze touched on his functional gray running suit, and the well-broken-in Adidas. He looked at her as if unsure he should be there. Beth understood his hesitancy. She felt the same way.

  Harry nudged him into the room. “Come in, David. Beth, pour Dave a cup of coffee.”

  Russ met Beth’s stricken gaze, smiling easily. “Hello, Beth.”

  “Russ.” Beth tried to be as at ease as he. “It’s nice to see you again.” Her eyes automatically checked the ring finger of his left hand. Bare. Thank you, God.

  “Your aunt—”

  “Makes a wonderful enchilada casserole.” She motioned him toward the kitchen. “It’s Russ Foster, Aunt Harry. David’s brother.”

  “Russ?” Harry frowned and studied her prisoner. “Are you certain dear? I think it’s David.”

  “It’s Russ, Aunt Harry.” There was no doubt. It was Russ in a huge way!

  In the kitchen, Beth busied herself pouring coffee, hoping Russ wouldn’t notice her trembling hands. “I heard you were back,” she said pleasantly. “Enjoying your visit?”

  “Actually, I am.” He took a seat in a lattice-back chair in the sunny breakfast nook. “The town’s hardly changed.”

  “Morning Sun never changes, but your parents’ house has. Dave and Carol did a beautiful job remodeling it. I hear that new home repair magazine is going to do an article on their renovation next month.”

  “They are. Dave’s real proud of the house, and Carol, well, Carol’s a born decorator.”

  “Here you go,” Aunt Harry set a plate of bananas in front of Russ. “Hot sauce or salsa?”

  Beth quietly picked up the plate of fruit, and set a helping of enchilada casserole in front of him.

  “Neither one, thanks.” Russ glanced at the clock, then at Beth. “A little too early in the day for the hard stuff.”

  Beth poured coffee while Aunt Harry chatted, filling Beth’s plate. “Now, David, tell me what you’ve been up to,” Aunt Harry said, drowning her enchiladas in hot sauce.

  “Actually, Miss Morris, I was out of the country until the last couple of months.”

  Harry nodded. “I heard that. You’re the President, aren’t you? I guess we can’t talk about that, though, can we, son?”

  “No.” He smiled, glancing at Beth. “I guess we shouldn’t talk about that.”

  Talk about wanting to crawl in a hole! When he looked at her, Beth’s heart thumped like a schoolgirl’s, and she had to force herself to remain calm. His eyes were still the same crystal blue, though there were a few light lines fanning from the corners now. They gave his face character.

  He dug into the casserole. “What have you been up to, Beth?” he asked in a soft baritone.

  “Me? Oh…well, nothing actually.”

  “You must have been up to something.” He smiled. “Where did you go to college?”

  “Oh…a small school on the outskirts of Washington. I worked for the DNR for a few years after I graduated. Then, when my mom got sick, I came back to Morning Sun. That’s it. I’m working now for the Watershed Committee.”

  “What’s the Watershed Committee?”

  “The county, city, and utility company formed the committee a few years ago. It’s a not-for-profit corporation led by a six-member board to assure water purity in our area. My job with the Department of Natural Resources gave me the background I needed for this.”

  “And what does Beth Davis do?” He took another bite of casserole, seemingly enjoying the bizarre breakfast.

  “I keep the water clean even before it goes to the treatment plant and, eventually, to your house.”

  “Sounds worthwhile. That your only job?”

  “No, I do statistics, too. Water tests.” She took a bite, thankful he was making a difficult situation easy. But then he’d always been smooth. Smooth and confident. “Right now, I’m trying to get a grant to monitor water qualit
y in the recharge area for Madison Spring. That’s about twenty percent of the water supply for the town. I help with the testing, analyze results and provide the information for the committee meetings.”

  “I don’t remember us having any biology classes together.”

  She reached for the salt shaker. “You were more interested in basketball, as I recall.”

  He smiled. “You like statistics?”

  “They’re my life,” Beth returned dryly.

  The truth was, they were boring as dry bread, and after four years of crunching numbers she felt equally boring. No wonder her social life was nonexistent. She knew every eligible man in town between eighteen and forty, and now that Jerald was gone, there wasn’t a promising suitor among them. Even worse, the men had known her for most of her life, and they all knew Aunt Harry. Even if she were Madonna, being batty Harriet’s niece would foil the bravest suitor.

  And if Aunt Harry weren’t enough to scare a man away, the black curse that hovered over Bethany was. She could keep a dozen complicated equations in her mind, explain the most difficult statistic to the utility board, but send her out on a date, and she was hexed. It was as if the bad witch had battled the good witch for her future and had won the right to control her love life.

  She shuddered, recalling the first fiasco after she and Jerald went their separate ways. The back door of an ice truck had come unlatched, dumping 236 bags of crushed cubes onto her date’s convertible. They had sat, only their heads free, staring at each other, while buried under a mountain of ice for over an hour until a road crew had dug them out.

  Next she had blithely accepted an invitation from an engineer who was new in town. He had wanted to have dinner on the top floor of a sixteen-story hotel between Morning Sun and Erie. That little adventure had ended with the two of them trapped in the glass elevator halfway between the eleventh and twelfth floor until 4:00 a.m. the next morning.

  It might well have been a romantic memory, with the right man. Unfortunately, Grant Crain was claustrophobic. In order to keep him from shattering the superthick glass with both fists and leaping to his death, she’d been forced to talk for nine and a half hours straight to keep him reasonably calm. She had laryngitis for a week afterward.

  “How long did you say you would be in town, Kenneth?” Aunt Harry asked, sipping her coffee.

  Beth smiled, correcting under her breath. “Russell, Aunt Harry, Russell.”

  Aunt Harry frowned. “Who?”

  Russ politely intervened. “I’ll be around until my knee heals, which I hope isn’t too much longer. There’s a possibility I may have a job waiting for me back in Washington D.C.”

  Washington D.C.! Only 130 miles south of Morning Sun. Might as well be a million. Beth kept her smile cordial, offering him a bowl of salad.

  He shook his head, refusing. “I’ll pass this morning, thanks.”

  Harry brightened. “Washington? The seat of government? How exciting. Will you be working with the President?”

  Russ pushed back from his half-eaten meal. “No. I doubt he’ll know I’m in town. And I don’t have the transfer yet.”

  Aunt Harry leaned to peer over the table. “What happened to your knee?”

  “Aunt Harry, maybe Russ doesn’t—” Beth began.

  “It’s okay,” Russ said. “I tore some ligaments jumping out of a helicopter.”

  Aunt Harry blinked. “Jumping out of a helicopter? Why would you do that?”

  “I’m not fond of crashing.”

  Beth smothered a laugh. She adored men with a sense of humor.

  Harry frowned, clearly misunderstanding. “Are you crazy?”

  “After I landed I decided I must have been.”

  “Was it broken?” Harry asked.

  “The helicopter? Yes, it was.”

  “No, your knee.”

  “No, but it might as well have been. I’m still in therapy. The doctor wants me to exercise it twice a day.”

  Harry picked up the cream pitcher. “I’ve always wanted to go to Hollywood.”

  “What sort of new job awaits you in Washington?” Beth asked quietly.

  His gaze met hers, and lingered for a moment. “I’m thinking about leaving the field, going into supervision. It’s a chance to advance, but I like the diversity of what I do now.” He glanced at his knee. “Unless this doesn’t heal the way it should. Then, who knows?” He shrugged, and it was easy to tell the prospect was a worry.

  “Congratulations, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Beth smiled.

  “Thanks. I don’t have the job yet.”

  “Does Russell still have that big dog?” Harriet asked.

  Beth automatically corrected her. “David, Aunt Harriet.”

  Harriet looked blank. “I thought he was Russ.”

  “He is Russ. David’s his brother.” She glanced at Russ, biting her lip. This was insane. He undoubtedly was racking his brain for a polite way to end this madness. “Russ is staying in David’s house while David and Carol are away.”

  “Well then, does he still have Jasper?”

  “Jasper?” Russ seemed surprised at the name.

  “Jasper—the Irish wolfhound David got from the Humane Society a couple of years back. You know, the one with the clear black eyes and two black nails on his right front paw.”

  Beth sighed. Aunt Harry could remember the name and eye color of a stray dog a neighbor adopted, and whether his toenails were a different color, but she couldn’t remember to put on her shoes when she left the house.

  Russ frowned. “Jasper’s the dog’s name? David’s writing is so bad I thought he said the dog’s name was Astor. No wonder the animal hates me.”

  “Hates you?” Beth laughed, relieved to see he was taking Aunt Harry in stride.

  “The dog doesn’t like me. He attacked me the moment I walked in the door, and he lays in wait for me every time I leave the house.”

  Aunt Harry laughed. “That dog loves everybody. I wonder why Russell got such a large one?”

  “David,” Beth corrected.

  “I thought you said…”

  “Dave likes his animals big,” Russ interrupted, draining the last of his coffee. “The mutt must weigh a hundred pounds. Pins me to the floor the minute I walk through the doorway. Takes me a half hour to persuade him to let me up.”

  Beth bit back another laugh, and Russ’s gaze caught hers. She suddenly felt as if her air supply were shut off.

  “David and Carol left before I got here. They left a note on the kitchen table, but Astor-or-Jasper ate half of it. It said something about the house not having modern conveniences. The stove is wood burning, and the hot water heater can’t hold more than five gallons.” He paused. “I’ve taken a lot of cold showers since I’ve been back.”

  Beth thought, after seeing him today, she might be taking a few cold showers herself.

  “I heard Carol is a naturalist.” Beth stood up and began clearing dishes from the table.

  “More like primitive if you ask me. I knew Dave was a little strange, but I never thought about him gutting the house of modern conveniences.”

  Beth scraped casserole into the garbage disposal. “You talk to your brother often?”

  “No. I’ve been out of the country most of the past six years. I had no idea Dave had turned into a kook.”

  She didn’t know he’d been out of the country. What did he do? Was it dangerous? Must be, if it required jumping out of helicopters.

  “You’re out of casserole,” Harry announced.

  Russ raised his palms. “No…thanks. But it was delicious.” He winked at Beth, and she couldn’t breathe again. “My morning cornflakes will pale in comparison.”

  “More coffee?” Beth offered, praying he would refuse.

  “Sure, why not.”

  She refilled his cup, wondering why he was hanging around. He must have a thousand more interesting things to do than sit in her kitchen and listen to Aunt Harry try to get his name straight. She couldn’t stand it a mom
ent longer.

  Setting the pot back on the burner, she murmured, “I’m going to finish the last of the Halloween decorations. You’ll excuse me?”

  Disappearing out the back door, she began attaching crepe paper to the porch railing. Taking deep breaths, she tried to rid herself of Russ’s scent of Irish Spring soap. Unrolling a length of crepe paper, she looped it over one arm, and wound the other end around the railing. Voices drifted through the open door. Aunt Harry was back on the subject of Russ’s work. She winced when she heard CIA mentioned.

  Finally she hung the last of the decorations, relieved to be finished.

  She looked around. Wild horses couldn’t pull her back into the house to listen to more of Aunt Harry’s inquisition. As if she’d even remember where Russ worked an hour after he left. It wasn’t so bad with people who knew Aunt Harry. They understood she asked questions and promptly forgot the responses. What would Russ think? “I’m going out to the car,” she called. “Anything you want put in the mailbox?”

  “The green envelope on the entry table! I’m entering the Florida contest. The prize is a round trip to Orlando. I haven’t been to Disney World in ages.”

  “Sixteen months, Aunt Harry,” Beth corrected under her breath. “But who’s counting?” Toting the envelope to the mailbox, she could hear Aunt Harry still grilling Russ.

  During her lunch hour the day before, Beth had gone to Roeberry’s Furniture to purchase a table. She’d been thrilled to find a small, carved solid maple library table that would be perfect for her room. Aunt Harry’s prize winnings occupied every corner of every other room of the house, but Beth insisted on keeping her room a sanctuary. It was a tiny oasis she called her own.

  Beth had left the table in the car after work. The young warehouse boy who had loaded the furniture box into her car had made it look simple, but now, Beth wasn’t sure she could get it out as easily.

  Propping the car door open, she shoved the driver’s seat forward. Bracing herself against the frame, she tugged, trying to force the box through the narrow back seat opening. By the time she managed to maneuver it free, she was on the verge of swearing.