by Cat Johnson
Where he lived seemed a million miles away to me then and I’d been determined I was going to leave a lasting impression on him, if it was the last thing I did.
I’d gotten him alone in the barn under the guise of us taking one final horseback ride before he went back home to Long Island for the start of the school year.
We were standing close. I was helping him tighten the cinch on his horse. That’s when I made my move, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his mouth.
I was scared to death, not knowing if he liked me that way.
It seemed he did. After that first awkward kiss had surprised him, he’d pulled me close for our second kiss. That one had blown me away. The memory of it, glorified over time until it was branded in my mind as pure perfection, had ruined me for all other men since.
That had been a real kiss. A tongue tangling, hand groping, so long my lips got swollen kind of kiss. And I would have ripped off my clothes and begged him to take me right then and there in the barn if the sound of his uncle’s truck hadn’t interrupted us.
Even now, so many years later, standing next to him and reliving that moment caused a twinge of desire deep inside me.
As far as I knew, he hadn’t been back since that summer. What was he doing here in Mudville wearing the Rotary’s Santa suit now?
The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced he’d recognized me too. His asking if I ever went by Lizzy seemed proof of that. So why hadn’t Christopher owned up to who he really was? I had no idea, but I decided to play it cool.
If he wanted to pretend, I could pretend.
I pasted on a smile. “Well, I’m happy to have you here, Chris. Let me show you to your sleigh. All right?”
“That’s great. Thanks.” He nodded, acting casual, but I saw it now. There was nothing casual about his stare as his eyes met mine.
There was definitely nothing casual about how I was feeling now that Christopher Nunes was finally back after disappearing from my life completely so many years ago. And this time, I wasn’t a girl anymore.
I was a woman. He was a man. And man oh man, what a man he was, if what little I could see in spite of the suit was any indication.
It was confusing, but I knew one thing with certainty. I intended to take full advantage of his being back before I let him leave here again.
With that in mind, I called to the photographer. “Nicole! We’ve got our Santa.”
She turned. “Great. And not a moment too soon. Can I take a couple of shots quick and see how the light is?”
“Sounds good. Just climb on up in there, Chris.” I made sure to use the version of the name he gave me.
“Um, sure.” Christopher, so tall he could easily pull himself into the high antique horse-drawn sleigh, climbed onto the padded velvet seat.
“You know what? Let me climb up in there too so Nicole can get a feel for how the shots will look when there’s someone in the sleigh with you.” I knew nothing about professional photography but that excuse for sitting myself right up close to Christopher sounded plausible enough to me.
And I did sit close. So close there wasn’t even a millimeter between our sides, pressed tightly together.
I pulled the fur throw over our laps and looped my hand beneath his arm, hugging his thick hard bicep as I said, “Smile for the camera, Chris.”
He was flustered. I could feel it as he stiffened against me. I could see it as spots of color appeared on the apples of his cheeks. I was having an effect on him and I liked it.
It made me feel bold. Made me want more.
“You know, Nicole, the little kids might sit in his lap. I should probably do that so you can see how that looks.” I stood, about to boldly climb onto the lap of a man I’d supposedly only met five minutes ago and I didn’t care how that looked to anyone else.
But I didn’t get a chance to implement my evil plan to finally get him to admit who he really was because Christopher jumped up, knocking me back down onto the seat of the sleigh.
His eyes wide in horror, he sputtered, “Sorry. I’m so sorry. But I . . . have to use the bathroom.”
He made that excuse and just about vaulted out of the sleigh, looking nothing like Clement Moore’s little old peddler. The fake belly like a bowl full of jelly didn’t slow him down as our Santa—my Santa—moved more like an Olympic athlete, in spite of the burden of the suit and padding.
Nicole walked over to where I still sat watching him sprint toward the building. “What was that all about?”
“I have no idea.” My lips twitched with a smile as I delivered that little white lie.
Today was going to be a merry day. And it had only just begun.
THREE
CHRISTOPHER
Lizzy Murphy.
Jesus. Because of her I was changing all my plans. Rearranging my schedule to stay in Mudville longer, when before seeing her I couldn’t get away from here soon enough.
She went by Elizabeth now. A serious name to go with the seriously hot body she’d grown into. And Jesus, when she’d tried to sit in my lap, I thought I’d die of embarrassment.
Meanwhile, certain parts of my lower anatomy woke right up and took notice of the close proximity of the girl who had been moments away from being my first, back when I was seventeen. If Uncle William hadn’t had epically bad timing, there was no doubt in my mind where that kiss in the barn had been heading.
Now, here she was and looking better than ever. And I wanted her just as badly as I had then. Maybe more, because now we were both adults.
I’d had to make up some bull shit reason to excuse myself to calm down before I was in any shape to be around the public again.
I don’t know how I got through the day of ho-ho-ho-ing. Smiling at the kids and for the camera. Asking who’d been a good little girl or boy. Because my eyes, and my mind, and my pure raw need, had been laser focused on her the entire time.
So now, here I stood at the front desk at Mudville House, the town’s only hotel, waiting for someone to respond to the bell I’d rung so I could ask if there was a vacancy and a store nearby. I’d need to pick up a few things for the night since I’d brought nothing with me.
This was crazy. I was crazy. Putting off my meeting with the lawyer to play Santa for six hours. Staying the night rather than taking care of my business and getting straight home. All so I could see more of her.
Lizzy.
Elizabeth.
And what I planned to do if I did run into her in town tonight, or tomorrow, I didn’t know, since I’d spent the day hiding who I was. Lying, kind of, right to her face. Not admitting I recognized her. That I knew her.
Why had I done that? I still wasn’t sure. Surprise, maybe. Confusion. And shame. So much shame . . . I’d promised to keep in touch. Sworn I’d be back again to visit. If not for winter break then the next summer.
I’d broken that promise. That was not completely my fault. I was only seventeen. I’d arrived home to find my parents in mid-divorce. After that, I went where they told me. Spent my school breaks at their whim.
I hadn’t exactly lied to Elizabeth. Afterall, Chris was technically a version of my name even though everyone called me Christopher.
But I hadn’t exactly been forthcoming either.
I could have told her who I was. I should have. I hadn’t. Which left me in the pickle I was in now.
What should I do going forward? That was the big question. Should I go to her house and confess? Show up at the tree lot again tomorrow and hope the Santa they’d actually hired didn’t show again?
I was more confused than ever.
My cell phone rang and one glance at the display showing the lawyer’s number reminded me of why I was here to begin with. What I really needed to do tomorrow. Meet with the lawyer and the real estate agent I’d called during my fifteen-minute Santa-duty break.
I swiped the display to answer. “Christopher Nunes.”
“Hi, Mr. Nunes. It’s Dee Flanders. I am so sorry you had so much trou
ble with the directions. I did get back to you. I left you a message that you had the proper address but GPS has been known to send people to the wrong town before. It’s something we learn to deal with around here. But I should have warned you. I do apologize.”
“No apology necessary. And I got your message. Thank you. I was, uh, occupied all day.” Santa had to keep his cell phone on silent or there’d be countless disillusioned children throughout the greater Mudville area. “I decided to stay in town for the weekend. I’m here at Mudville House now, hoping to get a room for tonight, if one’s available.”
“Well, that’s convenient. My office is directly across the street in the brick building.”
I turned and sure enough, there was the building she spoke of.
She continued, “I was about to go home for the day, but if you’d like to walk across the street and take care of the paperwork now, I’d be happy to stay. Or would you prefer to do it in the morning?”
“I’d love to take care of it now, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I’ll see you in a couple of minutes.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” I disconnected and since no hotel employee had emerged to help me yet, I pocketed my cell phone and headed across the street.
Dee Flanders was an older woman, perhaps of about seventy. Laid back, as small-town people often were, but sharp as a tack. She had the paperwork out on her desk, sticky notes marking where I needed to sign. And next to that was a Ford keyring, overstuffed with mismatched old keys.
The sight of those keys brought on a wave of mingled nostalgia and regret. And memories.
Memories of me driving Uncle William’s truck and tractor around the farm. Of the neighbor girl who taught me to ride a horse. And to fish. Of her laughing when the bull chased me out of the pasture.
Memories of bare feet and cut-off shorts. Of sunburns and mosquito bites. And of first kisses and the girl I’d never completely forgotten.
It was the best summer of my life.
I should have kept in touch. With him. With her. I should have come back long before now. If not the next summer, then sometime after that. After my time was my own again. I had no excuse for why I hadn’t, except that life happens. Takes over so completely that before you know it, you look up and twenty-three years had passed.
“Mr. Nunes?”
Shit. She’d said something to me. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. What did you say?”
She smiled. “I said the rooms in the hotel were recently remodeled by the new owner and they’re beautiful, but if you wanted to stay at William’s house, you could. It’s in good shape. Just as he left it. The heat is still running, so the pipes don’t freeze. The electric is on. There are even sheets on the bed in the guest room. The fridge has been cleaned out, but all it would take is a trip to the grocery store right here on Main Street and you’d be set.”
I glanced at those keys again. I remembered the little bent one unlocked the padlock on the back gate. The shiny one was for the deadbolt on the front door that I’d never seen locked while I’d been there. I wondered if the same old Ford truck was still parked by the barn and if it ran.
Suddenly I wanted to know. Wanted to see it all again.
Reaching for the keys she’d pushed toward me, I said, “Thank you. I think I might head over there tonight and take a look. Maybe I will even stay there.”
That impulse surprised me. I seriously hadn’t thought the idea of spending the night in the home of my dead great uncle would be appealing, but it was.
Or maybe it was less the house, and more the thought of Elizabeth being next door. Was she still there or had she moved?
I glanced up at the lawyer. “Are the same neighbors still next door? The Murphys?”
“They are. They’re both retired now but they still live in the house.”
“They had a daughter about my age. She doesn’t still live there with them, does she?” I tried to sound casual even as my pulse picked up speed.
“Elizabeth? Yes, she does. She’s teaches at the local school.”
A teacher. Just like her mother had been. That I remembered that detail surprised me. Although maybe it shouldn’t. It seemed Elizabeth had made a lasting impression on seventeen-year old me.
I glanced up at Dee. “You said there’s a store nearby?”
“Yes, sir.” She stood and walked to the door. “Go out this door and turn right and you’ll see the parking lot for the grocery store. And if you need anything else, go left down Main Street a couple of blocks. You’ll pass the pharmacy and then see the Village Variety. It’s got hardware and pretty much anything you could need for a house or garden. And, of course, there’s Red’s Resale also down that end of town. She’s got pretty much anything else you might need. For food, the diner across the street is great for breakfast. But if it’s a hot dinner and a drink you’re after, head two miles out of town, toward the highway entrance, and you’ll see the Muddy River Inn. That’s the local bar. Oh, and it won’t be open this late but tomorrow stop by Morgan’s Farm Market if you need a Christmas tree. They’ve got the freshest and the best ones around. Cheap too.”
I nodded but didn’t tell her I’d spent the day at the tree lot. Or that I knew Red’s business was up twenty percent since the diner reopened. All information I’d gained from that conversation at Morgan’s.
What I’d overheard at the farm market, and what Dee had described now, was a busy, thriving business district. It was nothing close to my first impressions when I’d driven in this morning.
I found I wanted to learn more. See more. Stick around for a while longer. Maybe even longer than just this weekend.
That was the last thing I’d expected to happen.
No, actually, seeing Lizzy Murphy again—all grown up—was the dead last thing I’d have ever expected, but my starting to feel at home here in Mudville was running a close second.
Now, all I needed to figure out was what the hell to do about both of those things.
FOUR
ELIZABETH
I sat in my car, parked on Main Street, looking for Christopher like a damned stalker.
Twisting in the driver’s seat I eyeballed the windows of Mudville House. Was he there at the hotel? Or was he staying at his uncle’s place?
A horrible thought hit me. Could he already be on the way back downstate? That last guess had my stomach twisting as I panicked.
We hadn’t gotten around to discussing his coming back for another shift at Santa Station tomorrow. There hadn’t been time since it had been so busy the entire day. And I’d had to be careful about what I said to him to keep up the sham that I didn’t recognize him.
Then I’d gotten called away at the end of the day due to a supply emergency. That ill-timed candy cane shortage had caused me to miss Christopher finishing the shift and leaving.
But it was December. Cold. Icy. Dark at four-thirty. My instincts told me he wouldn’t choose to leave tonight, but rather wait for daylight.
God, I hoped I was right about that. But I still didn’t know where to look for him.
With that thought, I came back full circle to the possibility of me going full-blown stalker on him.
It was like I was sixteen again. Him leaving. Me waiting around for him to show up again. Twenty-three years later and the situation hadn’t changed. I didn’t like it.
I liked even less that today was proof that I hadn’t changed either. Apparently I was still the kind of girl who sat around and waited.
Maybe that was why, twenty years after I’d sworn to myself I’d leave this town the moment I had my Mudville High diploma in my hand, here I was, still living in this tiniest of towns. Teaching at the same school where my mother had taught. Getting a degree from the local community college instead of going away to school. And still living in my parents’ house.
The more I took inventory of my life, the more I felt like a loser.
A knock on the window of my car startled the self-pity right out of me.
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Through the glass, frosted on the outside with cold and foggy on the inside from condensation, I could make just out the blurred image of the Morgan Farm logo stretched across a male chest.
Any fear dissipated as I hit the control to lower the window. Boone Morgan, the wearer of the sweatshirt bearing the logo, leaned down.
“Hey. You okay?” he asked. “I saw you sitting here when I went into the store a while ago. Is something wrong with your car?”
“No. Everything’s fine. I was just, uh, checking Instagram to see if anyone was commenting on the posts about Santa Station.” I was getting surprisingly adept at lying since Christopher’s reappearance in town. I had to wonder if that was some sort of sign I should heed.
“And? Did you get a lot of comments?” he asked.
Perhaps I wasn’t so adept after all. On second thought, my lie was pretty pitiful since I didn’t even have my phone in my hand. I grabbed it quick now and shook my head. “I don’t know. My signal is so crappy the page won’t load.”
“Yeah, I hear you. Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yup. Tomorrow.” I nodded, happy to be done with this conversation.
I started to roll up the window as Boone straightened and turned. But when he moved away from my car, I was able to get a clear view of the entrance to the store. Who I saw had my finger slipping off the window control.
Christopher.
He’d changed out of the Santa suit he’d been wearing all day, but it was definitely him.
His clothes were nicer than they’d been when he was here that summer living in the cut-off shorts I’d fashioned for him when he’d realized his long jeans were going to be way too hot and impossible to swim in.
He was older. His body thicker. But there was no doubt about it. This was Christopher. My Christopher. The one who’d gotten away. Back here again.
As he walked across the parking lot, a shopping bag in his hand, I could have yelled hello. Could have asked him where he was going. Or walked right over and told him the jig was up and that I’d known who he was all day.
