“Christmas Eve? Are you not coming back tomorrow? Everyone is going to be here.” Her gaze darted back to Lucky. “They want to see you.”
I understood the veiled meaning. She had promised tomorrow’s guests a peek at the girl who had managed to catch the eye of her son.
“We’re coming back tomorrow too, Mama. Don’t worry.”
“Okay. Sorry.” She gave her full attention back to me. “I didn’t mean to get all worked up. Holidays get a little crazy. So would you like some apple cider, Katie? I just got a pot going and I’m toasting cinnamon and sugar pecans. They should just about be done.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “That’s sounds really great.”
I followed her through the doorway, only to stop in my tracks, seeing the beautiful kitchen. I assumed Colt had remodeled it for her. And the food. It was everywhere, arranged like it was waiting for a magazine photoshoot.
When I had spent the holidays at Peyton’s house, her family held a potluck dinner, which consisted of extension cords and about twenty Crock-Pots.
This was an actual Christmas extravaganza.
“Your kitchen is really beautiful.”
“Colt’s been after me for years. Always wanting to build me a new house. And I’ve told him, over and over again. What am I going to do with a new house? It’s just me and I like this one. Why get a new one? So we compromised. He just got this finished a few months ago. This is my first Christmas to show my new kitchen off to everyone tomorrow.”
My fingers ran over the wooden cabinets. “Did he do the work himself?”
“Most of it. Lucky did some of it too. Colt says he can stand back and tell which doors are his. Says his brother has a tendency to go a little heavy on the stain. I can’t tell a bit of difference.” She chuckled. “But Colt is the perfectionist, which is why he’s been so successful, I guess.”
My eyes drifted over the patterns in the wood and the rich finish. “I think so too.”
“You want a cinnamon stick in yours?”
I glanced up, seeing Colleen fill a china mug with the brown cider. “Yes, thank you.”
She placed one stick inside before handing it over to me. I stirred it around like a spoon, letting the spices soak into the hot liquid.
“Get yourself one of those little plates and help yourself to whatever you see.”
“Okay.” I took a seat at the bar as I watched her move around the kitchen. She was a tall and relatively thin woman with graying black hair. I think Lucky said she was in her late fifties.
In front of me, a tray of petite pastries were arranged in straight lines on a snowflake-patterned ceramic tray. I picked one up, taking a bite. It took everything in me not to let out a moan. That flaky crust was full of cream cheese, jalapeños, and bacon.
Shoving the last bite in my mouth, I chewed one of the best things I had ever eaten. “Did you make these from scratch?”
“Yes. Those are one of Lucky’s favorites. I can show you how to make them sometime if you like?”
I smiled as I absorbed her words. “That . . . would be nice.”
His mom went over to the oven, taking several cookie sheets full of pecans out, placing them on the counter. She turned quickly on her heels, moving around in a blur.
“Do you need help?” I felt I should offer, but I was pretty certain everything was running like a well-oiled clock in this place.
“Oh, heavens no. You are my guest.” She scooped the nuts into a crystal red bowl. “So you’re student teaching next semester?”
“Yes.” I took a sip of my cider. It was the best cider I had ever tasted in my life. That cinnamon stick had soaked into the liquid and filled my nose with the scent of Christmas. “This is amazing too.”
“Thank you. Do you know where you are getting sent yet?”
“Yeah, in Gibbs. It’s a little town south of here. I wanted something bigger. But after I thought about it, I think I like the idea of a small place.”
“Oh, I know where that is. They have a good school system.”
“I’ve heard that too.” I took another sip. “So, do you know long you will continue to teach?”
“I’ll be eligible for retirement in two years. I’ll miss it, I think. Maybe.” She laughed. “But I’m also ready to let it go. It’s been a lot of years with a lot of kids.” She placed the dirty pans into the dishwasher. Taking a little appetizer plate, Colleen scooped some nuts out and brought them over to me. “The pecans are the best when they’re warm.”
I put a few in my mouth. The sugar was crunchy on the outside. “If you keep feeding me, I might never leave.”
She laughed. “That was the plan.”
“So you teach second grade?”
“I have for twelve years now. Before that, I did first. Spent some time in third and then back to first. But I settled into second.” Colleen sat down next to me on the other leather barstool. “I’ve had a good run at it. And I’ve been able to teach the kids of my kids. It’s nice seeing them grow up and then come back in my door again. I get to see who they became out there in the world, knowing I was a part of it. Makes me feel like my job actually matters.”
I didn’t know if it was the hot cider or the nostalgic picture she painted for me or maybe a little of both. But everything about tonight felt comforting and nice. If I had needed a reason to validate my career choice, that speech would have sealed the deal. “You should be a teacher recruiter because that would make a whole room sign up.”
She laughed, sipping her cider. “So what made you want to do it?”
“Well, maybe the idealized version of what you said.” I chewed on a nut, deciding how much of this I would actually share with Colleen. “I don’t remember very many of my teachers. We moved a lot. But I had a teacher when I was seven. Mrs. Munson. We were living in Columbus at the time. She was a good teacher. Always asked us questions like she cared. I never felt like just another student in her room.”
“That’s a good thing to keep in mind. People’s lives are so busy now. Sometimes a teacher spends more time with a student than their own parents.”
“Yeah.” I took another drink of my cider. Colleen was closer to the truth than she realized with that comment.
I remembered Mrs. Munson because that was the year I went on the big field trip to the famous Columbus Zoo. It had been planned for an entire month. I had showed my mother the slip of paper. They had requested the parents to attend the field trip with the students. My mother had signed it, saying she would come.
I had never been more ecstatic. She never really wanted to be bothered with all the homeroom duties. But the zoo. She was actually coming to the zoo with us.
On the day of the trip, my mother acted like I had never mentioned it. She claimed it was too late to cancel the luncheon that was scheduled with some important ladies in our new town.
I attended the field trip alone. I rode the bus alone while everyone else sat with their parent. As I got in line alone behind all of the other students, Mrs. Munson came over next to me. She said I would be attending the zoo with her.
As it turned out, my teacher was quite funny. She laughed at the apes and tried to help me talk to the exotic birds. We had cotton candy at lunch and road the carousel three times. That day was one of the best in my life. All because a teacher decided to make my world just a little bit better.
“Would you like some more cider?”
I glanced back to where Colleen was refilling her cup. “Um, sure. Thanks.”
After she sat back down, we continued to talk for a while about school. She told me some funny stories about the students in her class. I liked his mom. I think his overzealous humor manifested from her. I found myself laughing at her little quips and falling into the warmth of her smile—just like her son.
I heard Lucky greeting Colt and Callie as they came in the door. It was a flash of kids as Mia and Zach ran through the house, followed by their parents. The kitchen was suddenly overwhelmed with lots of talking and giggling. I
quietly retreated back to the living room, giving Lucky and his family some time alone.
Walking over to the Christmas tree, I ran my finger over the prickly branches as I looked at the ornaments. Some of them were newer than others. And then I realized they were a combination of Colt and Lucky’s childhood and a few new ones from the grandkids.
I found an angel with a picture of Lucky in the center. He was missing his front teeth.
“I’m six in that one.”
I turned at the sound of his voice. He came over to where I was standing by the tree. I felt his lips brush my cheek before he whispered, “How did it go?”
“She’s everything you said and . . . maybe more.”
“Good.” The sparkling Christmas lights illuminated his grin. Lucky glanced back to where my fingers still held the old ornament. “So that one I made in Sunday school.”
“Proof that you were once a little angel.”
“I’m still a little angel.”
I gave him an exaggerated grin close to his lips. “You’re funny.”
Letting go of that ornament, I moved to a terrible-looking ceramic thing I assumed to be a reindeer. I flipped it over on the back, seeing his name and a date. “I’m glad you picked singing because you should not be an artist.”
“Hey, I was, like, nine and it’s not that bad. It’s an abstract reindeer.”
“I don’t know what’s worse. The actual dough art or the fact you think it’s acceptable art.”
His arms went around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. “I guess you think it should be banished to the back of the tree.”
“I didn’t say that.” My head rested against his shoulder. “I think it’s really sweet and special that she saved all of these and still puts them up every year.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Even if yours resembles Rudolph getting hit by a semitruck.”
Lucky started tickling me as I squealed. “Stop . . . shh. You have to . . .”
I felt him dragging me to the doorway and then I was dipped over backward as he peered down at me. “I do believe, Katie Darlene Jenson, you are under the mistletoe, which is your punishment for making fun of a very artistic little boy who was waaaay ahead of his time as a creative genius.”
“Oh, so now you’re a creative genius.”
“Yes,” he whispered. His mouth crushed against mine as I saw a brief glimpse of the mistletoe hanging from the doorway. His lips teased me almost as much as his words. But his words didn’t leave me breathless.
“Ahh! They’re kissing. Again.”
Lucky laughed as he tipped me back to standing. His eyes darted to mine and then back to the little girl in the Frozen sweatshirt. “You see what I see, Katie?”
I smiled. “I do.”
He grabbed Mia, holding her in his arms as she giggled and squealed. Lucky stood under the mistletoe. “One, two, three.”
We both kissed each side of her little rosy cheeks.
“Nooo!” She giggled.
He set his little niece back down on the ground. She put a hand on each hip as she glared. “Time to eat dinner.”
“Okay.” Lucky patted Mia on top of her head before we followed her into the kitchen.
I spent the next hour eating more food than I had in the last three weeks combined. Plate after plate, pie after pie. I had seconds and then thirds. I stopped only when I decided the next bite might reappear.
His family spent the whole meal laughing and telling past Christmas stories. Callie had been with Colt since they were fourteen. I was surprised to find out that little bit of information. She had known Lucky almost as long as his family. And I guess in a way, she was also his family.
I tried to help Colleen clean up, but she ushered me right out of the kitchen. As I stepped back into the living room, I saw Lucky sitting at a piano with Mia next to him on the bench. Zach was taking the train track apart and rebuilding it into a different pattern across the floor.
I didn’t remember the piano earlier. I guess it had been overshadowed by the grand tree.
Colleen placed another mug in my hands. This time it was hot cocoa with a little peppermint stick. I was too full to have another bite of anything. But that chocolate smell was too good to resist.
She sat down on the brown leather couch. “Do you like singing Christmas carols?”
“Sure.” I sat down next to her while Colt and Callie settled in on the loveseat. I liked carols, but this would be the first time I had ever sat around singing them.
“I don’t know if he told you, but we have a little tradition that started the year he begged to get his Christmas present early. I got that piano at a garage sale when he was thirteen. It was so out of tune and not all the keys worked. He raked leaves that fall for anyone who would answer their door. Lucky got enough money together to have it fixed before Christmas. We sat around singing carols for hours that year as he practiced. And then we did it the next year. And then it just stuck.”
Looking over his shoulder, he smiled. “Got any requests, Katie?”
“You can play anything?”
“What! You haven’t forced her to play Stump Me yet?” Callie rolled her eyes as she looked in my direction. “Don’t ever play that with him. And don’t place any bets on it either. You will never win and you might end up paying for an entire trip to Padre.”
“It was your idea to go all-in with a Christina Aguilera song.” Lucky couldn’t contain his laughter. His whole body shook as he tried to talk. “Best . . . best spring br-break I ever had though.”
Everyone was talking at once and laughing. I had trouble hearing their words as Colt harassed him about his knowledge of pop music while Callie shouted, over and over. “Dead fish. You stunk like dead fish. Dead fish. In my car.”
I watched the room radiate around the guy. I loved this. I loved all of them. I smiled, seeing Mia pull on his arm, asking Lucky to play Let It Go from Frozen.
“Hey, hey. I think we have our first request.”
And then his fingers moved over the keys. The chaos of the room disappeared into the sound of his beautiful notes. There was not any sheet music as he played the elaborate intro to the Disney song. I guess he really did play by ear.
“Noooo.” Zach jumped up. “Not that one. It’s not even a Christmas song.”
“You get next pick,” Lucky yelled over his shoulder.
I listened as he played, and Mia sang every single word to the song, including the high notes, which came out a bit screechy. Once the song was over, Lucky switched to Zach’s pick—a rowdy, saloon-style rendition of Rocking around the Christmas Tree. His mom suggested Away in the Manger followed by Joy to the World. Callie and Colt sang O Holy Night as a duet. Their voices were beautiful as they harmonized the carol.
Lucky played several more before doing a solo performance of Carol of the Bells. His fingers moved lightning quick over the keys. I watched in complete fascination. Colleen eventually turned off all the lights except for the white crystal bulbs on the tree, and we sang Silent Night. As the evening came to an end, I turned my head a little out of view as a single tear fell down my cheek—a whimsical, beautiful, happy tear.
I woke up, slowly and softly, just like I did every morning in the pool house. I loved those first few moments next to him. The way his feet were sometimes touching mine. The way his arm was draped over me. The way his hair spread out over his pillow as he slept.
I rolled over, expecting to see his sweet face, but the other side of the bed was empty. Sitting up, I saw the bedroom door was closed as muffled sounds came from the living area. I picked his T-shirt up off the floor and slipped it over my head.
I felt the ironic smile on my cheeks. I would never wear something of my own that had been lying on the floor. But Lucky’s clothes didn’t bother me. They smelled too much like his scent to ever be considered dirty.
I opened the door, peering into the living room. He was sitting on the floor in only his boxers with a pencil between his lips
and his guitar in his arms. The pick went across the strings again as he hummed the notes. Pausing, he scribbled something down on a sheet of paper that was sitting next to a half-eaten piece of apple pie.
Lucky always had this intense expression whenever he was trying to write a song. It made little creases between his eyebrows. I loved it. I could stand there for hours, observing this whole process.
He eventually looked up, seeing me in the doorway. Taking the pencil from his lips, Lucky grinned. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.” I smiled as I walked across the carpet feeling the warmth of the fire on my bare legs. “You are working pretty seriously on a holiday.”
“Songwriters don’t really get vacations. They have to follow the wave of inspiration. Holidays. Middle of the night. Driving down the road. I once wrote an entire song in an Applebee’s parking lot at one in the morning as I was getting back into town from an eight-hour drive.”
He moved the guitar, letting me sit in his lap. His arm went around my waist, pulling me back against his bare chest. “I like your choice of clothes this morning.”
“Do you?” I laughed.
His lips pressed against my neck. “Yes.”
“So what are you working on?”
Lucky moved the guitar around in front of us. He placed the pick in my fingers. “Here, I’ll show you. Just pull it down softly over the strings, and I’ll do the rest.”
“So you have decided I can touch it?”
His nose buried deep in my hair as he whispered next to my ear. “You’ve let me come inside you about fifty times. I think you can touch my guitar.”
I felt the deep crimson spread up my neck. Holding onto the pick, I touched the strings. The sound came out quietly in the room.
“That’s it,” he said next to my cheek. He took my right hand, moving it a little faster against the strings as he changed the chords.
I started laughing. “This is not what you were writing. You’re playing an Alabama song.”
“She learns so well.” He kissed my cheek as he continued to sing the words to Dixieland Delight.
“Come on. I really do want to hear your new song.”
My Lucky Days: A Novel Page 16
