At the offices of Invitation to Love, Elizabeth had a fully decorated tree, complete with wrapped boxes and mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. Here, she only had the memory of Claire and the agony of knowing that James had been part of her death. Here, she could let her pain be seen without the prying eyes of Washington.
Elizabeth lounged on the sofa wearing black stretch pants and a green beaded sweater that fell a couple of inches above her knees. Near her feet lay an open book she hadn′t been able to read. Though she stared through the windows, her mind was eight miles away in a house nestled among the trees of Rock Creek Park. She′d agreed to James′s plan before leaving this morning. He thought she was doing it to change her life and her view of the holiday season. How wrong he was. She was doing it to make his life miserable.
Three years ago he′d escaped. He′d gone to New York and stayed there, away from the memories, the streets and people who looked at her with pity in their eyes. Even Theresa, Claire′s best friend, had left for London. She′d felt alone and wretched, wishing she could somehow make it all different. It seemed ironic that she should spend her life making other people′s dreams come true. Maybe she was trying all the time to forget that she had dreams of her own and they would never come true. Either that, or to hide from her own heartache.
Elizabeth jumped suddenly as the doorbell rang. Her foot kicked the book to the floor. Why was she so uptight? Getting up she padded barefoot to the door. James′s distorted features stared at her through the peep hole. Elizabeth took a calming breath and pulled the door open.
‶Hi,″ he smiled as he brushed by her. Behind him he dragged a huge pine tree. The apartment doorman followed him, loaded down with bags and boxes.
‶Merry Christmas, Miss Gregory,″ he said under his strain. ‶Where do you want these?″
Flustered, Elizabeth said, ‶Anywhere.″
‶I′ll take them.″ James grabbed a few of the bags and dropped them on the floor. He took the boxes and made a pile on the end of the sofa. Then tipping the doorman, they were suddenly alone.
‶What is all this?″ Elizabeth asked, turning around amid the chaos.
‶We′ve only got eleven days.″ He pulled off his sheepskin jacket, throwing it casually aside. Standing in front of her, he said, ‶We′re going to decorate your tree. I hoped you hadn′t gotten one yet.″
He meant he knew she hadn′t gotten one yet. Elizabeth didn′t have a tree and didn′t want one.
‶While we arrange bulbs and tinsel I′m going to tell you all about the tradition,″ James ran on as Elizabeth stood unsure of what to say and do. ‶Where do you want it?″
‶James, I don′t want a tree. I spend so little time here,″ she paused. ‶There′s one at the office and--″
‶You don′t live at the office. Here, this looks like a good spot.″ He stood in front of the large picture window that faced the Capitol Building and downtown Washington.
‶It blocks the view,″ she said weakly. Elizabeth loved that view. It was why she′d agreed to the exorbitant rent several years ago when she′d first seen it.
James leaned the tree against the wall and came toward her. Involuntarily she stepped back. He stopped. ‶You want this to work, don′t you?″ His eyes were serious, probing into hers as if he could look into her soul. ‶Don′t you believe in Christmas, anymore?″
Elizabeth nodded, not trusting her dry throat to speak. His approach told her he was going to touch her. Aching need revved inside her. She knew if she felt his touch she′d lose all reason.
‶Then let′s try to have some fun with it. It′s what Christmas is all about,″ James said.
He reached up and his finger tapped the dangling earring on her left ear. Sensation ran through Elizabeth. The brush of the gold against her skin was as warm as James′s fingers. Her hand came up and stopped the movement.
‶I′ll try,″ she agreed.
‶Good. Now where do you want the tree?″
Elizabeth told him to stand it in front of the window. While he positioned it for her approval, she watched him. She was still holding her ear. He′d always like to dangle the earrings she wore. There were times when she′d wait for him and he′d come up behind her and touch the earring or kiss her there. Heat would warm her ear and spread through her body, just as it was doing now.
James pulled a tree stand from one of the boxes. Bending down he quickly assembled it, humming O Tannenbaum while he worked.
‶Why don′t you put on some Christmas music?″ James glanced over his shoulder.
‶I don′t have any.″
He stopped his task and stood up. Elizabeth wished she were wearing shoes. She felt small next to his big frame. Stepping back she tripped on the book and nearly lost her balance. She bent down, picked up the romance novel and dropped it on the sofa.
‶What happened to them?″ James asked.
‶I never...unpacked them after...when I moved here.″
‶Why are you lying,″ James accused. ‶You lived her before Claire died.″
‶All right, I packed them after she died. I didn′t want to be reminded of Christmas. I hate it! I hate it!″
She turned away, her arms crossed in front of her in an effort to prevent herself from shaking. Elizabeth stood there for several moments. Finally, her breathing returned to normal. Taking a deep breath, she turned back. James had not moved.
‶Elizabeth, I′m sorry Claire′s dead,″ he said, softly. ‶I′m sorry I had any part in her death. I wish to God she′d never come into...″ he stopped, leaving the thought incomplete. ‶In the past three years, Elizabeth, we′ve both been plagued by bad memories at Christmas. I want this year to be different.″
Elizabeth suddenly felt guilty. Her goal had been to make him feel bad, yet she was the one who felt small, as if her actions were childish and petty. Giving her a cue he smiled.
Elizabeth tried but failed.
James stepped forward with a grin. ‶Smile,″ he said, then he took her waist. ‶You′d better smile,″ he warned. Seconds later his fingers squeezed inward, tickling her. ‶Come on,″ he warned.
Clamping her teeth together, Elizabeth tried to hold it in. She couldn′t stop herself. Finally, the flood gates opened and she burst into uncontrollable laughter.
‶Sto--opp,″ he cried, as she grabbed his hands and bent her knees, slipping to the floor. James followed her, laughing with her.
He stopped tickling her but she continued laughing. Only when she had no more breath left, could she get control on her near-hysteria.
‶Feel better?″
She nodded wiping her eyes with the tips of her fingers.
He pulled her up, immediately releasing contact. From one of the bags on the floor he pulled a CD and offered it to her. ‶Put this on.″
Elizabeth took the cellophane wrapped package and went to the rack system in the corner. The disc contained a medley of Motown artist and a variety of Christmas songs. Gladys Knights′s soulful rendition of O Holy Night filled the room.
‶What′s in the other bags?″ she asked, returning to the center of the room.
‶Open them,″ James told her absently. He′d finished the assembly and stood the tree in it. The room smelled pleasantly of pine.
Elizabeth loved surprises. The feeling of finding presents under the tree on Christmas morning gave her a rush. She found tinsel, tree lights, colored bulbs and garlands. Soon her living room was draped in colorful disarray.
When James was ready for the lights, Elizabeth found herself passing them back and forth as they draped the tree.
‶I thought you were going to tell me all about Martin Luther and the tradition of decorating trees.″
‶Ah-ha,″ he said as if he were verbally flexing his muscles. ‶Many people attribute the tradition to Martin Luther. But long before the birth of Christ, people brought evergreens into their homes and decorated them. They held winter festivals and celebrated the winter solstice.″
‶Winter festivals?″ Elizabeth glanced
up from the box she′d opened. ‶Today we call them parties.″ She smiled at him. Her first unconscious action since he′d arrived. James smiled back as he stopped hanging glass icicles on the tree for the unguarded moment. Elizabeth unwrapped several Victorian bulbs and placed them on the tree.
‶The festivals were thanks for a bountiful harvest and prayer that the next season would be plentiful.″ James returned to his story. ‶When Christianity became accepted, many people retained their winter rites, gradually changing them to honor Christ.″
As James continued telling her about the tradition of Christmas trees, Elizabeth was mesmerized by the sound of his voice. A deep bass if he sang, the sound seemed to originate in low in his body and flow forward. She had forgotten how much she loved hearing him talk. Opening another box of decorations, they filled the open spaces with bulbs, icicles, and hallmark figures. When they got to the garland, the tree looked good enough for the cover of House Beautiful and James had reached the part of his story where the tradition came to the United States.
‶The Hessians, German soldiers hired by the British to fight in the American Revolution, decorated trees during the holiday season and it caught on with the settlers.″
‶James,″ Elizabeth interrupted his story. ‶I know this part. I also know that President Franklin Pierce put up the first Christmas tree in the White House, that Calvin Coolidge lit the first outdoor tree and Eisenhower established the pageant of peace they hold on the Mall behind the White House.″
‶Good,″ James said. ‶That′s the end of my story.″ He picked up the final unopened box. ‶How about putting the last decoration on?″
Elizabeth stared at the box. She knew it held an angel opening it. They always topped the tree with an angel. ‶That was Claire′s job. She said the angel had been sent by our parent′s to watch over us.″
‶I′m sure she′d want you to do it.″
Elizabeth lifted the lid. She gasped when she saw the delicate Black doll, dressed in a white gown as sheer as gossamer. The box dropped to Elizabeth′s feet as she lifted the angel, holding it as carefully as she would fine glass. Feathered wings extended from her back arching up like summer clouds. Black eyes looked deep into Elizabeth′s.
James touched the tree top ornament, his hand brushing Elizabeth′s. ‶Put it on,″ he whispered.
‶I can′t reach it,″ she said, her head slowly rising to look at him.
‶I′ll help you.″
Before she could stop him, James lifted her from the carpeted floor and hoisted her to his shoulder. Vertigo claimed her momentarily. The floor looked miles away from where she sat.
‶Put me down!″ She grabbed his shoulder, nearly dropping the doll.
‶In a minute. Put the angel on the tree.″
James stepped forward, his hands holding her firmly. Elizabeth reached for the top branch unsure of her position. She felt as if she were going to fall. Quickly she stuck the angel on the extended branch.
‶Put me down,″ she said when she′d secured the ornament.
James′s hands slid up her torso to grasp her arms. He slid her down his body. Elizabeth pointed her toes as if she were a ballet dancer and he was practicing a lift. Heat scorched her bottom as it rolled over James′s chest. Elizabeth bit her bottom lip. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her brain told her to get to the floor fast, yet another part of her body savored the hard strength of him, remembered the hours of love-making, his arms wrapped around her, filling her with warmth and security.
Elizabeth mentally shook herself, trying to get control of her rampaging emotions. An eon passed before her toes felt the thick carpet pile. James turned her in his arms. She faced him, her voice caught below the lump in her throat.
‶What do we do next?″ he asked.
Chapter 4
Mrs. Andrews would have his head if she could see what he′d done to her kitchen. Bags of sugar lay strewn on the counter. An opened one had spilled onto the floor. There were enough grains under his feet to perform a soft shoe routine. The flour sack flopped over the moment he opened it, clouding the room and settling a powdery dust over everything. Chocolate sprinkles and rainbow toppers waited with red and green sugar crystals, bowls, spoons, a sifter, and half the spices from the supermarket shelf. James′s previous excursions through the kitchen were to get to the barbecue pit in the backyard or to raid the refrigerator for fried chicken and cold milk in the middle of the night. He couldn′t imagine baking Christmas cookies here. And why cookies?
When he′d asked Elizabeth what they should do next, baking was the last thing on his mind. From the look in her eyes, it wasn′t her first thought either. Yet he had given her the option of picking the next Christmas tradition they should share. He couldn′t back out of it now; even if he did hate cookies. He wondered if she remembered that and had chosen this as a punishment. He knew she agreed to his plan so she could turn the tables on him. Was this her way of doing it? It wasn′t going to work. He loved her too much. Being in her company, even if she tried things he hated, was better than spending his days and nights without her.
His mother had made sugar cookies and they seemed to act like a homing device for Elizabeth whenever the oven was lit. Tonight he′d spend the evening with cookie dough on his hands letting Elizabeth instruct him on what to do with the sprinkles or any of the other items she′d had him buy. She′d given him a list of the things they′d need and he′d come from the grocery store with six bags of ingredients. He hoped he had enough.
Glancing at the clock, he knew Elizabeth would be here any moment. She′d always been prompt. He′d better at least get the sugar off the floor and the counter back to a presentable state.
The doorbell pealed before he finished. Hastily he dumped the grains into the trash. Then dropped the dust pan and broom into the closet and started for the door. At the archway where he′d kissed her he stopped. His heart was beating wildly. Taking a deep breath he waited a moment. He′d been nervous since hearing her voice on the other end of the phone this afternoon, when she′d itemized the things they′d need. After that there was no way he could concentrate on futures, the Dow Jones Index or whether the NASDAQ was up or down. His thoughts were on his beautiful, brown, baby.
The bell rang again, starling him from his reverie.
‶Hi,″ she said with a smile.
It was the old smile. The one that did strange things to his heart. James couldn′t do more than grin. The wind was blowing hard. Elizabeth was wrapped in a fur coat and hat. Only her face showed, framed by the dark fur. Her eyes were dancing and her mouth was red and kissable. It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and indulge in the urge at the forefront of his mind. He stood back and let her in. Helping her with the heavy coat, he stood close enough to smell the sensuous scent that was hers alone. His body grew warm, a prelude to the familiar reaction he had whenever he thought of her. With her so close he′d have to be careful. Turning away, he took extra time hanging the coat in the closet.
‶Did you get everything?″ she asked.
‶I found everything on the list.″
‶Good,″ she said. ‶Shall we begin?″
James took her arm as she turned toward the archway. Her eyes weren′t just dancing, they were brilliant as if she had a secret and was dying to tell it. ‶Can′t we have a drink first?″
‶Of course.″
Her smile was so radiant; James couldn′t help but be suspicious. She′d been so reluctant to decorate the tree, now she seemed to have done a complete reversal. Something was not as it seemed.
He went into the great-room, Elizabeth following him. At the bar he watched her as he poured glasses of white wine. She pulled off the fur hat and used her fingers to pick the short curls. The act was so simple, yet fire alarms were going off inside James. He had to convince her how much he loved her, how much she loved him. He couldn′t tell her everything she thought he′d done in the past was Claire′s doing. He wanted her to trust him enough to know he would never
have done anything to hurt her. Last night decorating the tree he felt he′d broken a little of the ice she had around her heart. Tonight he was going to have to turn the tables and let her know he knew where her ploy was going.
Elizabeth dropped down on the padded bar stool and took the glass James offered.
‶You′re especially happy tonight,″ he said. ‶Something happen?″
Elizabeth took a sip. She was bubbling over with happiness. Something wonderful must have happened to her.
‶I got a release today,″ she paused.
James waited. ‶A release from what?″ he asked after a long moment. He knew it had to be something spectacular. She had a client list that read like a Who′s Who in Washington society, but Elizabeth was proud when she did something for people who had little power behind them.
‶Not from what. For what.″ She grinned and took another sip. ‶The Department of Interior gave permission today for the air show I′ve been planning.″
James came around the bar. ‶Tell me about it?″
‶Three hundred hot air balloonist are going to fly children over the Mall area on the fourth of July. They′ll take off and tour the monuments and Rock Creek Park, then land in RFK Stadium. The children will love it.″
Elizabeth sat forward on the stool. Her body was poised with an excitement he hadn′t seen in years. She glowed with the happiness reserved for children on Christmas morning.
‶The balloonists are donating their time to help the Children′s Fund.″ She stood up leaving her glass on the bar. ‶You′ll love it, James. It′s going to be a perfect day for a child.″
James recognized Elizabeth′s favorite charity. He also heard the excitement in her voice include him in her future plans. He wondered if she knew she′d done it, if it were an unconscious slip of the tongue or if she really wanted him in her life. He certainly hoped the latter was true. ‶What about the airport?″
‶No planes in or out for three hours.″
‶Not even Air Force One?″
She grinned, coming toward him. ‶Not Air Force One, not the military, not United Airlines, not anybody.″
A Very Romantic Christmas Page 7
