Our First Christmas

by Lisa Jackson

  She found Chris standing near the Christmas tree, decorated in the colors of the wedding, shining brightly in front of the living room window. He, like she, seemed a little out of place. “Hey!” she said, and he looked up, his gaze finding hers again.

  “Mad at me?” he asked.

  “For?”

  “You know what for.” He jammed his hands into his pockets and actually looked away, as if he were embarrassed. For what?

  “Happens all the time,” she teased.

  “It does?”

  “Sure.” She laughed then, and he relaxed a little. “So, I said I hadn’t seen you at school. Did you just come here for the wedding?”

  “Moved here last summer. I go to LaSalle,” he explained, mentioning the private school across town. Ludicrously, Megan felt a little glow inside. At least he wasn’t leaving the area after the wedding, though why she cared, she didn’t really understand. She learned that he’d met Natalie several times and had heard about Megan, that Natalie had even shown him a picture of her younger sister. Weird, considering that Natalie had never once mentioned anything about Adam’s cousin to Megan. Then again, Nat had been pretty caught up in the wedding. It seemed to Megan that it was all anyone had talked about ever since Adam had proposed nearly a year earlier and her parents had gotten over the shock of their eldest daughter’s marrying so young.

  Chris, the bold kid who had kissed her under the mistletoe less than two hours earlier, seemed suddenly a little shy, but finally summoned the courage to ask her out.

  “I thought maybe you might want to come with me next Saturday night for the LaSalle sleigh ride.”

  “A date?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah.” His lips twitched as if he were trying to swallow a smile.

  Megan surveyed Chris critically. His features were even, if a little oversized, and although his smile wasn’t perfect, it seemed genuine. With longish brown hair and intense eyes, he was good-looking and had a bit of charm to him. His jaw, while not dark with beard shadow like Adam’s, was strong. He seemed smart and probably athletic, and he was practically family, so why shouldn’t she go out with him?

  “Sure,” she finally said. “Unless Mom and Dad have me scheduled for some family thing. It can get a little crazy here around Christmas.”

  “There is a catch,” he admitted, backlit by the tree. She felt a needle of disappointment.

  “Which is?”

  “You’ll have to bring a date for my friend Ken.”

  “I have to?” she repeated. “Hook your friend up with a blind date?” What did she know about this guy really?

  “Yeah.”

  “Or you won’t go out with me?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “None of my girlfriends will go on a blind date, especially when I haven’t even met the guy myself!” This wasn’t a request, she thought; this was an impossibility!

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he disagreed, his eyes growing a shade darker. “From what I can tell, the LaSalle sleigh ride is a pretty big deal around these parts.”

  “What? Some nerdy old tradition?” she threw back at him, though, of course, he was right. A lot of the girls at her school talked about it, not so much about the sleigh ride itself, but just about hanging out with the boys from LaSalle. The truth was a couple of her friends had talked about it, probably because Heather Winters acted like it was a really big deal.

  “Look, if you don’t know anyone, that’s cool.”

  “I’ll see,” she promised.

  He grinned, that sexy, slightly dangerous smile that caught her off guard. “So Adam was right.”

  “About what?” she asked, her curiosity piqued that Adam had said anything about her.

  “He said you liked challenges. I like that in a girl.”

  “Oh, you do? Why?” How did they get on this stupid subject?

  “I don’t know. I guess it shows intelligence and imagination.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Is that a compliment?”

  “If you want it to be,” he said, eyes glinting, reflecting the lights of the tree, and Megan realized they were kind of alone, most of the guests having wandered into the dining area and kitchen for drinks and appetizers. Intelligence and imagination weren’t exactly in the same category as beautiful or gorgeous, but they weren’t bad, and were much better than nice.

  So maybe a date wouldn’t be so bad, not so bad at all.

  “Come on. It’ll be fun,” Megan pleaded the next day. She was flopped on the couch, hoping that no one in the house could hear her conversation, the cordless phone pressed to her ear.

  “I’m just not sure. Why doesn’t this guy—Ken—get himself a date? What is he? A real loser or something?”

  Megan didn’t know. In fact she didn’t know a whole lot about Chris, either, though she wanted to know more—a lot more—and was checking through a friend whose brother had gotten kicked out of Central and landed at LaSalle, but so far she hadn’t heard back.

  “I would do it for you!” Megan pressed, not really sure she was telling the truth. Tail aloft, Madonna strolled in and hopped onto the couch, and absently, with her free hand, Megan petted her soft fur as the cat curled up next to her and began kneading the sofa’s cushions and purred loudly.

  “What does he look like?”

  “I . . . really don’t know,” Megan said.

  “You have seen him, haven’t you?”

  Ooops. “No, not exactly, but Chris told me that he was very popular and a great guy.” That might have been stretching it a little.

  There was an audible groan at the other end of the line. “Being popular at an all-boys school could mean that he’s the class clown, or a real jerk! What do you know about him? Anything?”

  “Not much,” Megan admitted, though Chris had told her a little before leaving last night. “Uh, Ken’s a . . . good student. . . .”

  “Wonderful.” Sarcasm dripped from Leslie’s voice.

  “He plays video games. . . .”

  “Every guy does that. And it’s BORing. Oh, wait. Don’t tell me that he plays Frisbee. I don’t know if my heart could stand all that excitement at one time.”

  “The only thing I know is that he and Chris are on the debating team,” she said, recalling their quick conversation.

  “Ugh.”

  “And that he is willing to go out on a blind date with you.”

  “Sounding better and better all the time,” Leslie said. “What a hottie! You know, I get that you’re all into intellectual types, the A plus plus plus students or whatever, but, that’s not me. I like something a little—”

  “Jockier.”

  “I was going to say ‘edgy,’ but, yeah, jocks are cool.” She paused, then added, “As long as they’re cute. You know, like Ryan DuBois!”

  Ryan was the star of Central’s basketball team. And, in Megan’s opinion, a real jerk. “Come on, Les. When will you ever get an opportunity to go on the LaSalle sleigh ride? They’re talking about making the school coed next year, so who knows if they’ll even have it again.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “You got something better going on?”

  On the other end of the line, Leslie sighed. “You’ve got a point there. Okay. I’ll go,” she acquiesced, though she sounded less than enthused. “But if this turns out to be a disaster, you owe me. Big-time.”

  “Deal. Now, we’re supposed to meet the boys down at the Hayloft around six thirty on Saturday. My folks will take us.”

  “You mean they’re not even going to pick us up? This just gets better and better.”

  “They have to work on setting it up; they’re part of the committee.”

  “I’m already thinking this is a bad idea. So how do we get home? Hitchhike?”

  “Of course not! They’ll bring us home!”

  Leslie was certainly not making it easy. Besides that, she was reinforcing Megan’s existing fears about Chris.

  Leslie echoed her thoughts, in a careful voice.
“Meg, just why are you so interested in this guy? Tell me it’s not because he’s Adam’s cousin?”

  She couldn’t. And Leslie was the only person besides Megan herself who knew her feelings about her now brother-in-law.

  “This is sounding incestuous,” Leslie said.

  “Ick!”

  “I was kidding. But come on, Meg. Is Chris really all that interesting? I mean, to you. If he wasn’t related to or close to Adam, would you be going out with him?”

  Good question, Megan thought. One she really couldn’t answer.

  Later, at breakfast, things didn’t get any better. Her mother, tired from all the wedding fuss, dressed in her favorite bathrobe, gave Megan the evil eye.

  “Last night at the reception, you seemed a little quiet.” Megan’s mother had been rinsing her coffee cup in the sink, but turned to survey her younger daughter.

  At the table, Megan averted her gaze from her mother’s and reached for the glass of orange juice near her plate. “What do you mean?” she asked, though she already knew.

  “I think you know.” Megan’s mom refilled her cup from the Mr. Coffee coffeemaker on the counter. “Enlighten me.”

  How could she even start a conversation about her feelings for Adam with her Mom? Megan stared at her scrambled eggs, toying with them with her fork.

  “Does it have anything to do with Natalie?” Her mother took a long swallow of coffee as she looked at Megan over the rim of her cup.

  Megan shot her a quick glance. “No.”

  Carol Simmons sat down and leaned back in her chair. “I know this is hard for you, Meg.”

  You couldn’t. You just couldn’t.

  “We’re all going to miss your sister. Believe me, your father and I tried to talk her out of the marriage, at least for now. We wanted her to finish college and . . . Well, it doesn’t matter now. Natalie had her mind set, and you know how bullheaded she can be. So, what’s done is done. But this has got to be hard on you, too.” She cleared her throat, her gray eyes, so much like Megan’s, clouding a bit, as if she were troubled. “You two were always so close. But lately . . .” She paused, her lips compressing, and it was almost as if she’d forgotten the coffee cup in her hand. “Lately, I’ve had the feeling that maybe it was more than that.”

  “Like what?” Megan nearly choked on her juice.

  “Envy, perhaps?”

  Megan remained silent, unable to answer her mother. To her absolute horror, she felt tears burning behind her eyelids and her throat becoming thick.

  “Look,” her mother continued. “I know that it’s not easy for you. Natalie is so . . . outgoing.”

  “You mean she was popular in school,” Megan clarified. “And I’m really not.” She saw the denial cross her mom’s face. “No, I know it. It’s not a big deal.” With a shrug she added, “Just the way it is. Or was. When she was at Central.”

  “Okay. But it never seemed to bother you before. You’ve always been happy just to be yourself.”

  Never! Megan thought. Then amended it. “When I was a kid. In grade school.”

  Her mother took a sip from her cup, then set her coffee onto the table. “She was the one who was envious, you know.”

  “Natalie?” No way!

  “School comes easy for you. Easier than for your sister. And you’re always so organized when she, well, you know, she was always losing things and running around like a chicken with her head cut off looking for her keys or lipstick or whatever.”

  “Big deal.”

  “It is. And more important, you, ever since you were old enough to speak, knew your own mind. She’s stubborn, I know, but you . . . you, you’re at ease with being yourself. At least you used to be.”

  “I’m okay, Mom,” she said, as much to end this psychological probing and motherly advice as anything. “Natalie’s been gone a long time.” And that much was true. Ever since her older sister had met Adam, Natalie had placed one foot firmly outside the Simmons’s front door. Megan carried her plate to the sink and dumped the rest of her eggs. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Impossible,” Carol said as she got up and reached into the small drawer near the back sliding door for her ever-handy pack of cigarettes. “It comes with the territory of being a mother.”

  Chapter 6

  “This might not be as bad as I expected,” Leslie whispered as she appraised the two boys walking toward them in front of the Hayloft, an old barn turned into a restaurant, on the night of the sleigh ride. With thick red-blond hair and attitude written all over him, Ken was slightly shorter than Chris, a wiry guy, definitely not a basketball jock. Megan crossed her fingers in the pockets of her jacket, all the while hoping that Ken was a wrestler or maybe a soccer player or some kind of athlete.

  “Hey!” Chris said, his grin stretching wide. “I was afraid you might not show.”

  “Really?” Megan asked, but he laughed.

  “Nah.”

  “This is Ken Dickens.”

  And so the date began. And sure enough, though it started out well enough, it turned into a disaster.

  The frigid December air chasing them inside, they headed into the restaurant, where weathered planking covered with old farm tools comprised the walls and fake kerosene lamps burned on tables surrounded by benches.

  Chris led the foursome to one of the long tables already occupied by several couples who were passing out songbooks for caroling.

  “Ken and I will get drinks.”

  “Diet Coke for me,” Leslie said. Though tiny, she was forever dieting.

  “Regular,” Megan said.

  Chris nodded. “We’ll be right back.”

  As Megan and Leslie slid onto a bench, Megan took a look at the other couples. Her heart sank. Every girl at the table was poised and beautiful and knew it. Shiny hair, bright smiles with perfect teeth, makeup applied as if by a professional, tittering laughter, and each and every one reminded Megan of Natalie.

  A slim blonde cast a radiant smile in Megan’s direction. “Hi, I’m Claire Wakefield. Welcome to the sleigh ride. It’s a great night for it.”

  “Thanks. I’m Megan Simmons, and this is my friend, Leslie Baker. We’re with Chris and Ken.” Megan motioned in the direction of the two boys, who were still busy ordering drinks.

  “Is this your first sleigh ride?” Claire asked. “I don’t remember seeing you here before.”

  As Megan and Leslie nodded, she said, “You’re not from Upland-Gable,” the all-girls high school that was a counterpart to LaSalle, a private, exclusive school that was rumored to be merging with the boys’ school if things worked out.

  “We’re from Central.”

  “Oh!” The tone said it all. The friendly sparkle in Claire’s eyes died, and she turned back to her friends, effectively shunning the newcomers.

  “They’re giving me an inferiority complex,” Leslie whispered.

  “No way. You’ve already got one.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Of Freudian proportions.”

  Of course there was no reason for it. Leslie was short and cute and could hold her own with any of the girls from Upland-Gable.

  Megan caught a sideways glance from Claire. The girl was whispering with her friends, just out of earshot as the restaurant was noisy, other customers arriving, pizza orders being shouted, music flowing from speakers mounted high in the rafters.

  “Sometimes it sucks being the ‘nice’ girls,” Leslie said, bringing up an old topic, one that always reared its ugly head whenever comparisons to the more popular girls were made.

  “I know.” At the moment Megan wasn’t feeling very nice. At all. As a matter of fact she was feeling downright mean, which she effectively controlled as Ken and Chris arrived with a tray of sodas.

  They got on pretty well, talking and laughing, comparing schools. Ken was funny, his sense of humor not as dry as Chris’s, but conversation didn’t lag. Megan was enjoying herself, though every once in a while she would catch sight of Claire looking her way.
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  Who cared?

  Within a few minutes, the rest of the carolers had arrived, and the sleighs were waiting outside, parked near the entrance of the Hayloft. The ride consisted of ten sleighs, crammed to capacity with carolers. Unfortunately, Megan and Leslie were split up as Ken and Chris had volunteered to drive different sleighs.

  “How on earth are we all going to sing in unison?” Megan asked Chris as he helped her up to the front seat behind a huge black horse that was pulling at his bridle, snorting and pawing.

  “We’re not. As I understand it, each sleigh takes off five minutes after the one ahead of it, and we all sing at our own pace. When we converge at the park, we’ll sing about four or five carols together and then return to the Hayloft. The senior class has rented it for the night, and the dance will be held there.”

  It sounded a little old school to Megan, but then it was all part of the LaSalle tradition. Chris helped all the passengers aboard. Unfortunately Claire and her date ended up in the same sleigh. Great, thought Megan. Not only do I not get to be with Leslie and Ken, but I end up with Claire and Brad What’s-His-Name, a loud basketball type. But if she was worried about small talk, it was no problem. As Claire climbed into her seat, she managed to look right through Megan even though Brad gave her a quick head-to-heels appraisal.

  Made for each other! Megan thought.

  Chris got back into the driver’s seat and tucked a thick plaid blanket around Megan before they took off. As the horse pulled the sleigh, Megan snuggled next to Chris, and together they sang the familiar old carols. Chris’s deep baritone voice was more than slightly off-key, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care. Megan joined in wholeheartedly, and when either she or Chris hit a particularly bad note, she laughed. And all the while Claire’s boyfriend talked, cracking off-color jokes and going on and on about his “awesome” last game, then pulling his own blanket high over the lower half of his face as if to ward off the cold.

  Somehow Megan managed to ignore Brad, and, between songs, she and Chris talked. Chris told her of growing up in the suburbs of Boston, where he’d lived before moving to Connecticut. Every once in a while Adam’s name would crop up in the conversation and, each time, Megan felt a sharp stab of pain. She tried to ignore it, telling herself that she didn’t care that Adam and Natalie were wed. But that was a lie. She didn’t want to think of Adam and Natalie, or the fact that they were man and wife. She wanted to enjoy the evening as the draft horse plodded through the snow, and the sleigh slid beneath the streetlamps, and snowflakes, continually falling, danced and swirled around them. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear faint Christmas songs and laughter from the other sleighs.