Make-Believe Mistletoe

by Gina Wilkins

  “I'll wait until everyone else leaves, if you like. Just to help everyone get underway.”

  “Yes, that would be helpful.”

  She had been careful not to suggest a personal reason for lingering, and she heard no particular expression in Banner's voice. She shouldn't feel as if there was some significance to their agreement that she would be the last to leave. So why did she feel that way?

  She glanced at her watch to distract herself from that line of thought. “It's almost five. I suppose we should be thinking of something to feed everyone.”

  “I put a lasagna in the oven. It will be ready to serve by six.”

  Lucy looked at Banner in surprise. She hadn't even realized he'd been in the kitchen prior to joining her in the living room. She knew he hadn't been in there long enough to assemble lasagna. “How-”

  “It was in the freezer. I make two at a time when I'm in the mood to cook, and I freeze one for later. It should be enough to feed everyone, along with a couple of side dishes. I usually eat leftovers for two or three days.”

  “You're a very resourceful man, aren't you?”

  He gave a quiet chuckle. “I try to be.”

  Oh, gosh, she was starting to like him, entirely too much. The darned man seemed to be weaseling his way onto her prospect list-even though he absolutely did not belong there. And certainly wouldn't want to be there, she added glumly.

  Candles provided light for the lasagna dinner Banner had prepared. Having grown more comfortable with each other as the day passed, the travelers laughed and bantered during the meal. A newcomer might have thought they had known each other for ages, Lucy thought with a smile.

  Though Banner didn't contribute much to the conversation, he seemed to enjoy listening. Lucy was getting the distinct impression that he wasn't quite the crusty recluse he pretended to be. She suspected that there was more to his story than a history of being the family misfit. What was he really hiding from here in his rural lair? And, yes, she was being nosy again, but it was Banner's fault for being so mysterious, she reasoned.

  Before the meal was over, something else claimed her attention, something that was no more her business than Banner's secrets. But she couldn't help noticing that Bobby Ray was spending a lot of time watching Joan across the table. His expression made Lucy wonder if the big trucker had become attracted to Joan.

  It was an interesting possibility. Lucy wondered if Joan was aware of it, and if so, how she felt about it. Something told her that Joan didn't have a clue. As far as Lucy could tell, Joan had absolutely no vanity. And since she had admitted to Lucy that she was a bit intimidated by Bobby Ray, Joan probably never considered that he might be interested in her.

  Lucy didn't consider herself the meddlesome type. But there was no reason they shouldn't all get to know each other better, was there? Wasn't that what casual conversation was all about?

  “You haven't told us much about yourself, Bobby Ray,” she began, stabbing her fork into a bite of lasagna. “Are you originally from Little Rock?”

  “I grew up in Prescott,” the trucker replied obligingly. “Moved to Little Rock about fifteen years ago to be closer to my wife's family.”

  Oops.

  “Your wife?” Lucy repeated.

  He nodded. “Andrea. She died five years ago of melanoma. She had just turned thirty-two.”

  “I'm so sorry,” Lucy said, and the sentiment was echoed in the faces of their dining companions.

  “You would have liked her,” Bobby Ray assured Lucy. “She was a pistol. You remind me of her, in a way.”

  “I'll take that as a compliment,” she said with a smile.

  “It was meant as one.”

  Lucy noticed that Joan was looking down at her plate now, though Lucy would bet Joan was paying close attention to the conversation. “You and Andrea didn't have any children?”

  Bobby Ray shook his head, his eyes dimming a bit. “We were never blessed with any. We both loved kids and would've liked a houseful if we could've had 'em.”

  “Children are a blessing,” Pop agreed. “Mother and I raised four of our own and more than a few that we took in along the way. I'm not saying we never had our troubles with any of them, but the good times made up for the bad ones, didn't they, Mother?”

  “Oh, yes, they did,” she concurred. “Hardest part was when we lost our oldest boy in a car accident twenty years ago. We learned then to cherish the moments we have with our loved ones and to never take each other for granted.”

  “That's the way I've always felt,” Lucy said. “Probably because I lost my mother when I was young, I've always treasured my other family members. Even when my cousins made me so mad I could punch them-and I tried once or twice,” she added with a laugh.

  Tricia wanted to contribute to the discussion. “My brother makes me mad sometimes. He calls me dopey-head, and he hides my dolls.”

  “Well, you broke my model airplane,” Tyler retorted heatedly, always game for a squabble. “And you are a dopey-head.”

  “Am not!”

  “Are, too.”

  Joan cleared her throat, and both children fell into silence, turning their attention quickly back to their dinners.

  Bobby Ray laughed. “That's the same sort of sound my own mama used to make when I was acting up. She didn't have to say a word, just gave my brother and me a look, and we knew we were in for it. That little bitty woman could sure swing a mean hickory switch.”

  Tricia's eyes rounded. “What's a hickory switch?”

  “A little bit of history, missy,” Bobby Ray answered with a chuckle. “It's been replaced with other methods now, but it surely was effective in its time.”

  Pop grinned. “I can testify to that. My grandma was the switch swinger in my family, and we learned right quick not to get on her bad side.”

  “My teacher gives us frowny-face stickers if we're bad,” Tricia said, still eager for attention. “Three frowny faces means we can't go out to recess. I've only had one frowny face all year,” she bragged, “and that was because Kevin Perkins pinched me and made me yell at him when we were supposed to be listening to a story.”

  Lucy couldn't help smiling at the little girl's disgruntled expression. “Kevin Perkins sounds like a brat.”

  “He's okay,” Tricia said. “I told him to be nice to me and he could be one of my boyfriends, so now he doesn't pinch me anymore.”

  That made the adults laugh, except for Joan, who groaned and shook her head.

  “Looks like you're going to have your hands full with this one,” Bobby Ray told Joan sympathetically. “Going to have to beat the boys away with a stick.”

  “Maybe I should find a hickory switch, after all,” Joan agreed.

  When Joan and Bobby Ray shared a smile, Lucy silently congratulated herself for getting the conversation started. Who knew where this could lead? Bobby Ray and Joan both seemed like nice people. Bobby Ray loved children, and Joan had two who needed a father figure in their lives. It seemed like a great match to Lucy, who had always had better luck matching up her friends than herself.

  Maybe she could drop a few hints in Joan's direction when they were alone again…

  She happened to glance toward Banner right then. He was sitting next to her, looking at her in a way that made her wonder if he had guessed what she was thinking. Was that disapproval or merely curiosity she saw in his eyes before he masked his expression and looked back down at his plate?

  “Perhaps you'll play your guitar for us again after dinner,” Miss Annie suggested to Bobby Ray. “You play beautifully. Doesn't he, Joan?”

  Joan looked a bit surprised, but nodded agreeably. “Yes. I enjoyed listening earlier.”

  Lucy smiled brightly at Miss Annie, sensing a compatriot. “We'll all look forward to hearing him again.”

  Bobby Ray looked almost shy when he promised that he would play whatever they would like to hear. Lucy was amused to see the faintest tint of pink beneath his bushy beard.

  Knowing it took
a bit more persistence to get Joan to talk about herself, Lucy turned her attention to the other woman. “You said you live in Mayflower, Joan. Do you work there?”

  “No, I work at a bank in Conway. It's less than fifteen miles from my house, so I don't have far to commute.”

  “My mom's a loan officer.” Tricia looked proud of herself for knowing the title.

  “Think she could lend me a dollar?” Bobby Ray asked with a grin.

  Tricia nodded seriously. “But you would have to pay her back.”

  “With interest,” Tyler added, proving that he, too, was knowledgeable about his mother's career. “Like seventy-five cents, maybe.”

  “Whew, that's high interest,” Bobby Ray said, grinning at Joan.

  She smiled tentatively back at him. “The rates aren't quite that high.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Probably uncomfortable at being the center of attention, Joan turned to Lucy. “I don't think you've told us what you do, Lucy.”

  “I'm an assistant professor of mathematics at the University of Central Arkansas in Conway. I just finished my first semester there, and I enjoyed it immensely.”

  For some reason everyone at the table, with the exception of the children, perhaps, looked surprised by her reply.

  “You're a math professor?” Bobby Ray asked after a moment. “You seem awfully young for that.”

  “I'll be twenty-eight soon. I was always in a hurry to finish the next stage of my education, so I earned my bachelor's degree by the time I was twenty and my Ph. D. when I was twenty-five. This is what I was anxious to do-teach in a university setting.”

  “You're a doctor!” Miss Annie said. “Isn't that something.”

  “You must have students who aren't much younger than you are,” Pop commented.

  “I have several who are older than I am,” Lucy replied. She glanced at Banner, who was studying her closely again, and she couldn't begin to read his thoughts.

  She didn't think her profession merited quite the amazement the others had shown, but she did wonder if he was as surprised as they were. She was used to people being startled upon hearing her profession, of course. She knew she looked younger than she was, and she was aware that she didn't fit any particular stereotypes of a mathematician or a professor.

  As far as she was concerned, her career was no different than truck driver or loan officer or woodworker-she had simply found a way to support herself doing something she enjoyed.

  So what did Banner think about her career? And why should it matter to her, anyway?

  She started to say something to him-she wasn't sure what it would have been-but he turned away, reaching for Tricia's empty plate, which he stacked with his own. “Anyone want dessert?” he asked. “The ice cream is melted, I'm afraid, but I have some thaw-and-serve carrot cake that should be ready to eat.”

  “I like carrot cake,” Tricia told him eagerly. “Can I have the little frosting carrot on the top?”

  “Tricia,” her long-suffering mother admonished. “Take what you are served.”

  Bobby Ray was chuckling again, Lucy noted in satisfaction. He seemed quite taken with the kids, which boded well for Lucy's matchmaking scheme.

  If only there was someone as interesting to go on her prospect list, she thought with a silent sigh. And then found her eyes turning to Banner again as he served a slice of carrot cake topped with a bright orange frosting carrot to little Tricia.

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  Chapter Six

  As promised, Bobby Ray played his guitar again after dinner. Miss Annie was back in the rocker and Pop was in the big recliner now. Bobby Ray sat on one end of the couch with Joan at the other end. The children and the dog were on the floor in front of the fire.

  Lucy sat in the striped wing chair. She'd half expected Banner to pull his dining room chair close to her side, as he had before, but instead he'd placed it just inside the doorway, where he could watch without really being a part of the group.

  She tried a time or two to catch his eye, to share a smile, but he seemed to avoid looking at her. Or was she simply imagining that? She couldn't think of anything she might have done to annoy him.

  The evening passed slowly, but pleasantly. Pop sang for them again, urging the children to join him. Miss Annie asked if anyone would like to hear her read the Christmas story from her battered, well-used Bible. “I used to read it every Christmas Eve for my children,” she added with a nostalgic sigh. “I would've read it for my great-grandchildren tonight.”

  Everyone, of course, assured her that they would be delighted to have her read to them. She held the Bible close to her faded eyes, and her hands shook a bit, but her voice was strong as she began, “And it came to pass…”

  Lucy had a lump in her throat by the time the elderly woman finished the reading. She saw Joan surreptitiously wipe a tear. Even the children had been spellbound. Bobby Ray cleared his throat, and Pop leaned over to kiss his wife's cheek, which only made the lump in Lucy's throat grow bigger.

  From her sprawled position on the floor, Tricia sighed. “That was pretty, Miss Annie.”

  “Thank you, sugar pie.”

  “Do you have a book with 'The Night Before Christmas' in it? My grandmother promised to read that to me tonight.”

  “I'm afraid I don't have that one.”

  The little girl looked disappointed. “We always hear it on Christmas Eve.”

  “Doesn't matter,” Tyler muttered. “This isn't like real Christmas Eve, anyway. We won't even have Santa Claus tonight.”

  Banner shifted in his chair, drawing attention his way. “I could say the poem for you, Tricia, if you want me to,” he added in a mumble.

  Tricia sat up straighter. “You have the book?”

  “Well…no.”

  The child looked confused. “But you said you would read it to me.”

  “I said I would recite it for you,” he corrected, and Lucy thought he looked as though he regretted that he had ever spoken at all.

  “You have the poem memorized, Banner?” Pop asked encouragingly. “Is that what you mean?”

  “Um, yeah. I don't know that I would win any awards for dramatic recitation, but I have a knack for memorization. I learned that poem when I was just a kid, and it has stayed with me ever since.”

  Tricia scooted closer to Banner's chair, her expression eager. “Say it for us,” she urged. “I want to hear about the reindeer.”

  He cleared his throat and glanced somewhat sheepishly toward Lucy, who nodded encouragement at him. And then he began, his voice deep and rich as the words rolled fluently from him. The logs in the fireplace crackled in accompaniment, and Lucy didn't think she had ever heard a more perfect telling of the beloved poem.

  A love of literature was one of the criteria for a man to be placed on her prospect list. How frustrating that Banner met so many of her requirements- “jolly” being a notable exception-yet still set off every emotional alarm she possessed.

  “'Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night,”' he finished, causing Tricia to break into delighted applause.

  “Well now, I've played guitar, Pop sang for us, Miss Annie read from the Bible and Banner's quoted poetry,” Bobby Ray said. “Lucy, do you or Joan want to entertain us now?”

  Joan blushed. “I'm afraid I don't have any talents.”

  “Sure you do, Mama,” Tyler argued. “You sing all the time at home, and Grandma said you could have been a real music star.”

  Joan blushed even more brightly. “My mother tends to exaggerate.”

  “Sing for us, Mama,” Tricia urged. “Bobby Ray can play guitar for you, won't you, Bobby Ray?”

  “I would be delighted.” Bobby Ray cocked his head toward Joan. “What do you want to sing?”

  She sighed, apparently realizing that her children wouldn't stop pressing her until she gave in. “How about 'I'll Be Home for Christmas'? Maybe that will be a good omen for the roads tomorrow.”

  Bobby Ray strummed the
opening chords of the song. Lucy was pleased that Joan really did have a lovely voice. Her slight country drawl made Lucy think of Reba McEntire. Joan's mother might have been right about Joan having a career in music had she chosen to pursue it. Lucy wondered if that was a dream that had been abandoned for Joan's unfortunate early marriage.

  Everyone applauded when Joan finished singing.

  “That was lovely,” Miss Annie enthused.

  “Very nice,” Pop seconded. “We should try a duet.”

  “I agree with your mother,” Bobby Ray said. “You have a beautiful voice, Joan.”

  Joan's eyes glowed in the firelight, showing her pleasure with the compliments. “Thank you. But that's enough, please.”

  Bobby Ray turned to Lucy with a mischievous grin. “Well, Miss Lucy? What are you going to do for us?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I don't suppose you would be interested in hearing some advanced math calculations?”

  “Not hardly. Why don't you sing us a song?”

  She laughed. “Trust me, you would rather hear Hulk sing than me.”

  Tricia scooted closer to Lucy's chair. “What can you do, Lucy? Besides math, I mean?”

  “I play a little piano, but we don't have one of those available. It isn't exactly a portable instrument like Bobby Ray's guitar.”

  “What else?” Tricia seemed confident that Lucy had talents she hadn't yet revealed.

  “I can wiggle my ears,” Tyler announced, and proceeded to do so.

  Tricia sighed. “We're talking about Lucy, not you.”

  Lucy turned to Banner. “Do you have a deck of cards?”

  He stood, reached into a cabinet beneath a built-in bookcase beside the fireplace and produced a card deck that he tossed to her.

  “You do card tricks?” Tyler asked, moving closer on his knees, and making Lucy wonder how many pairs of jeans he had worn out that way.

  “I read minds,” she corrected him.

  The boy snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “I suppose I'll have to prove it.” She shuffled the cards, then fanned them in front of him. “Pick a card.”