A Christmas Kiss

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  “A doctor. That’s impressive. So what in hell are you doing down here in North Cackalacky?”

  Jarrod laughed. “Visiting my father for the holidays. It’s actually the first time I’ve been home in a few years.”

  “Awww! That’s exciting. I bet your dad will be glad to see you.”

  Jarrod nodded. “Yeah, I’ve missed the old guy. It’ll be nice to spend some time with him.”

  “Will your boyfriend be joining you?”

  There was an awkward moment of silence. Bianca lifted her eyebrows in his direction. “Yes? No? Maybe?”

  A wave of tension washed over his expression. A nervous titter spilled past his lips. “Not this time. My father doesn’t know about us.”

  “And that’s because . . . ?”

  “My father doesn’t know I’m gay.”

  Bianca nodded, a smile pulling at her thin lips. “Well, there’s nothing like some good drama for the holidays!”

  “That’s what I’m trying to avoid.”

  “Just a little friendly advice, but secrets always have a way of coming back to bite you in the ass at the most inopportune times. Like over the family dinner table during Christmas dinner, Mr. Christmas!”

  Jarrod sighed. “Are you really going to curse me like that?”

  “I’m not trying to start anything up. I’m just stating fact, my friend.”

  The young man smiled. “So what about you? You still haven’t told me your name.”

  She smiled back. “Bianca. Bianca Torres.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bianca Torres. So what brings you to Boone, North Carolina?”

  “My old people. My mother broke her knee yesterday and I have to go help her and my father.”

  “Sounds like you might have your own holiday drama going on.”

  “You don’t know the half of it!”

  Laughter ensued as Bianca and Jarrod continued their conversation for the rest of the train ride. The two were having a great time with each other, and when the train stopped at their final destination, neither was excited to see their good time come to an end.

  “Do you have a ride?” Jarrod asked as he pulled his luggage from under his seat.

  Bianca nodded. “My father is picking me up.”

  Her new friend laughed. “That’s a coincidence. So is mine!”

  Exiting the train, the two followed the other travelers to the arrival platform. The mid-afternoon temperature was crisp, with a definite chill in the air. Bianca pulled her jacket tight around her torso, wishing she’d worn a heavier coat. She blew a long sigh, her breath a fine mist in front of her face.

  Jarrod turned to give her a hug. The embrace was warm and endearing. “You have my number. Please keep in touch, Bianca.”

  “I will. In fact, don’t be surprised if I call you soon. I may really need a friend if my old people start driving me crazy.”

  “I’ve got your back, girl!”

  She pointed her index finger at him. “And do not be surprised if I hold you to that!”

  Jarrod grinned. “There’s my father,” he said as he pointed to a black BMW that had pulled up to the curve. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?”

  Bianca nodded. “There’s my dad,” she said, pointing to a crimson-red Buick Enclave parked in the handicapped parking spot.

  Jarrod smiled. “Merry Christmas, Bianca!”

  “Merry Christmas, Jarrod!”

  As his son made his way to the car, Ethan Christmas exited the vehicle, unable to contain his excitement. The young man stood almost as tall as him with a slimmer build. There was no mistaking the family resemblance as his mirror image stepped toward him. Ethan’s smile was a mile wide.

  For a brief moment, his gaze followed the beautiful woman who had been standing in wait with his son, watching as she rushed to catch up with her own ride. He was suddenly curious about her, wondering if she was someone close to the young man, since the two seemed very friendly with each other. He had a host of questions, but for the moment he was content to just stand there and stare, eyeing her until she slipped into the waiting vehicle and pulled away. His son calling his name pulled him back to the moment.

  “Hey, Dad!”

  “Welcome home, son!” he said as he threw his arms around the young man’s shoulders and hugged him tightly.

  Jarrod took a deep breath inhaling the cool mountain air. “It’s good to be back.”

  Ethan reached for his son’s luggage, tossing it into the trunk of his car. “So, who was your friend?” he asked, gesturing toward the vehicle that was pulling out of the lot.

  “Her name’s Bianca. Bianca Torres. We met on the train.”

  “Miguel and Sharon’s daughter?”

  “You know her?”

  “I know her folks. They talk about her all the time. I didn’t know she was coming home for the holidays.”

  “That’s some small-town stuff, right? Knowing everyone’s business?” Jarrod teased, a deep chuckle easing past his lips.

  His father laughed with him. “I guess it is.”

  Jarrod shook his head. “Well, her mother broke her leg. She’s down and out for a few weeks, and Bianca’s come to give her a hand.”

  Ethan rounded his car and slid back into the driver’s seat. Beside him, Jarrod was already securing his seat belt.

  “I guess Boone’s not that small,” Ethan said. “That news hasn’t spread here yet!”

  Bianca cringed as her mother called her name for the umpteenth time. Since her arrival it had been one command after another, Bianca, do this. Bianca, do that. She was past the point of being ready to pull her hair out as she screamed at the top of her lungs. She took a sip of the coffee that she was trying to enjoy.

  Her father was seated at the kitchen table and he smiled. “If you didn’t ignore her, Bianca, she wouldn’t call you every ten minutes.”

  “I’m not ignoring her, Papi. I’m preparing myself to do whatever needs to be done next.”

  The man laughed. “Go see what your mother wants, please.”

  Bianca blew a heavy sigh as she moved onto her feet and headed out of the kitchen, into the home’s family room. Sharon Torres sat in an oversized recliner, a fresh cast wrapped around her broken leg. The appendage was propped up on the ottoman, a kente-patterned sleeve pulled over the stark white wrapping.

  “Yes, Mother?” Bianca’s eyebrows were raised slightly, her eyes wide. Bianca had been her mother’s change-of-life baby, an unexpected surprise after years of thinking she really didn’t want children. The matriarch had been forty-two years old and would have sworn she was menopausal until God had a good laugh at her expense.

  Sharon laughed, waving her child toward her. “Don’t give me that look, Bianca! Come sit with me.”

  Bianca blew a loud sigh as she eased her thin frame into the seat beside the matriarch. She leaned her head on the older woman’s shoulder as Sharon wrapped her arms around her daughter’s torso.

  “How’s the leg?” Bianca asked facetiously.

  “Annoying. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. That’s why I’m glad you’re here,” Sharon said as she swept her palm over her daughter’s brow, brushing her dark curls out of her face.

  “You know I was going on a cruise, don’t you?”

  “Daughter, who goes on a cruise for Christmas?”

  “I do. You know how I am.”

  “I know that it’s way past time that you actually came and spent time with your family during the holidays. It’s good to finally have you home!”

  “If Uncle Barber pinches my behind or cracks one joke about my hips, I’m on the next train down off this mountain.”

  “Your Uncle Barber is harmless, and he fancies himself something of a comedian.”

  “Uncle Barber is a pervert, and one day someone is going to put him out of his misery.”

  “Just keep him away from the eggnog and he’ll be fine.”

  “You still spike the eggnog?”

  “Of course I
spike the eggnog.”

  “Thank goodness for something.”

  Sharon laughed as she pulled her hand through the length of her gray dreadlocks. She twisted the lengthy strands into a bun atop her head.

  Bianca shifted forward in her seat. “So what’s on my agenda today?”

  “Shopping. I need you to pick up everything I’m going to need for my baking. We have a ton of cookies to make this week. Then, next week, you can pick up the last of my Christmas dinner shopping.”

  “Why can’t I just get it all at one time?”

  Her mother tossed her a look as if the question was out of turn.

  “What? I was just asking. I don’t see why we need to make any unnecessary trips to the market if I can get it all done in one trip. I’m just saying!”

  “Well, don’t. Just do things the way I need, Bianca. I left your list on the table.”

  Frustration creased Bianca’s brow. She nodded, throwing in an eye roll to punctuate the emotion.

  Her mother changed the subject. “Your father tells me you rode the train with Jarrod Christmas.”

  “I did. He was very sweet.”

  “His father, Ethan, is a good friend of ours. He and your daddy play golf practically every week during the summer months. We had dinner with him last week. He was very excited about Jarrod coming home. Had I known this was going to happen,” she said, gesturing down to her leg, “I would have bragged about you coming home too!”

  Bianca shook her head, her eyes rolling skyward. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get another chance sometime soon,” she said glibly. “Maybe you’ll break an arm next year.”

  “Don’t be flippant, Bianca. Your father and I are very proud of you. We like to share your accomplishments with our friends and neighbors.”

  “It was just a joke, Mother. I wasn’t . . .” Bianca started, her tone defensive.

  Her mother continued. “You can’t begrudge us bragging about you. It’s bad enough that you rarely grace us with your presence. Truth be told, most people think your father and I are only imagining that we have a daughter. No one we know has ever met you.”

  “Now you’re just being overly dramatic.”

  “No, I’m not. We don’t see you nearly enough, so sharing tales of your exploits is all we have, and now you want to take issue with that.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. “I’ll get it!” Bianca chimed, quietly grateful for the save. She slid her buttocks up and across the chair’s arm, easing out of the seat. Muttering under her breath, she raced toward the front of the home. She passed her father, throwing him a look as he grinned at her, his head shaking from side to side. She tossed her hands up in frustration, her brow creased with emotion.

  The man laughed. “Give your mother a break, Bianca,” he said, his voice a low whisper. “You know she loves you.”

  She rolled her eyes once again. “What’s love got to do with it?”

  The doorbell rang a second time. As the patriarch moved to his feet, Bianca waved him aside. “I’ll get it,” she repeated as she continued toward the front door.

  Her father called her name. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Really, Dad,” she muttered, her tone dismissive. “I can answer the door.”

  Without giving it a second thought, she pulled the door open, suddenly startled to see Jarrod Christmas and an older version of the young man standing on the other side.

  Jarrod grinned, his eyes widening. “Hey, Bianca, is this a bad time?”

  “Jarrod, hey!” she exclaimed, her gaze flitting from one man to the other. “Not at all. It’s good to see you again.”

  “Are you sure? Because we can always come back later?”

  “Really, it’s not a problem.”

  Jarrod gestured over his shoulder. “This is my father. Ethan Christmas, meet Bianca Torres. Bianca, my father, Ethan.”

  Bianca’s gaze rested on the man, and she was suddenly standing like a deer in headlights. She’d expected that Ethan Christmas would be as handsome as his son, but she hadn’t anticipated him being such a tall, delectable drink of chocolate. He stood a few inches taller than Jarrod, who was easily tipping six feet. He wore a Carolina blue polo shirt, a navy wool trench coat, and tan slacks, and his solid build filled the garments nicely. His hair was closely cropped and there was just the faintest hint of gray to his edges. His features were chiseled and his eyes were large pools of black water. The man had a distinguished air about him that Bianca found breathtaking. Her eyes were wide as she struggled not to salivate, her mouth open in awe.

  Jarrod cleared his throat, pulling at her attention. A wide grin filled his face from ear to ear.

  She blinked rapidly, shaking the sudden fog from her head. “Mr. Christmas, it’s nice to meet you,” she said politely. “Please, come in.” She opened the door wider to allow them inside.

  Ethan was staring at her as intently, a look of bemusement painting his expression. “Please, call me Ethan. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Your parents speak quite highly of you.” His gaze skated the length of her body and back, the man visibly struggling to keep his eyes focused on her face.

  Bianca tossed him a quick smile, her own eyes dancing eagerly across his dark complexion. “So what brings you two here?” she asked.

  Ethan answered, gesturing with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “We wanted to stop by and see how your mother was faring. We were sorry to hear about her accident.”

  Before Bianca could respond, her father came from the family breakfast room. “Ethan, good morning!” he exclaimed, moving to shake the man’s hand. “And this must be your son.”

  Bianca took a step to the side as the three men traded pleasantries. She continued to cut her eyes toward the senior Christmas until she realized Jarrod was watching her intently out of the corner of his own eyes. The two exchanged a look as she eyed him with a raised brow. Jarrod grinned at her, shrugging his shoulders, amusement seeping past his stare.

  Her father gestured toward the back of the home. “Sharon’s taken up residence in the family room. Come on in and say hello,” Miguel said, leading the way.

  Bianca blew a low gust of air past her thin lips. She moved to close the front door, and as she turned she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the antique mirror that adorned the foyer wall.

  Her mouth dropped open as shock washed over her. Her eyes were wide and heat flushed her face, tinting her complexion a deep shade of red beneath the mud-colored clay mask spread across her cheeks and forehead. Her hair was a matted, tangled mess of curls pulled into an awkward ponytail that peeked from a scruffy satin cap. To add insult to injury, she was wearing an old ratty T-shirt that had been her father’s and a pair of oversized track shorts that hung awkwardly beneath the top’s hem, along with striped knee-length socks. She looked like a hot mess.

  Chapter 2

  The scream that echoed from the home’s front foyer was piercing. In the other room Sharon’s eyes widened as her head snapped with concern. She met her husband’s eyes with a questioning stare. “What in the world . . . ?”

  The matriarch turned just as Bianca raced past the family room’s entrance toward the guest bedroom at the end of the hall. She was ranting as the door slammed harshly behind her, and it was only then that her mother realized her predicament. She laughed heartily, tossing her head back against her thin neck.

  Miguel chuckled with her as the other two men struggled to contain their own laughter. “That’s your daughter,” he said, his head waving from side to side.

  Sharon nodded, mirth still bubbling past her wide smile. She gestured for Ethan and his son to take a seat. “You’ll have to forgive our baby girl,” she said, looking from one to the other. “Bianca can be quite a challenge!”

  In the other room, Bianca was pacing like a mad woman. She paused to take another look at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She screamed again, her tightened fists shaking at her sides. How could her parents h
ave let her meet the most beautiful man that she had ever laid eyes on looking like she’d been dragged out of a gutter? Because Ethan Christmas was some serious eye candy and she wasn’t looking like anything sweet. She shook her head from side to side as she snatched off her head scarf, rubbing at the facial mask with the corner of the satin fabric.

  The hint of laughter could be heard in the distance and Bianca could only imagine the snarky comments coming from her mother. She blew a low sigh, dropping her body down against the bed.

  Bianca knew that she gave her mother little credit. The dynamics of their relationship always had one or the other teetering on that line between love and hate. Her mother loving her choices one minute and hating them the next. Neither had mastered the skill of biting her tongue, each sometimes too quick to share her thoughts. But they shared a unique bond, and Bianca would not have traded the matriarch for anything else in the whole wide world. Plus, it was like her father often said: the two were exactly alike, which was why they bumped heads more times than not.

  A knock on the bedroom door pulled at her attention. “What?” she snapped, still miffed by the circumstances that had her there still looking like death warmed over when she should have been in the home’s family room being cute while she flirted shamelessly.

  “Who is it?” she said when the knock came a second time.

  Jarrod pushed the door open, hesitating as he peeked his head inside. “May I come in?” he asked, his expression smug.

  Bianca cut her eyes in his direction, tossing him a look. Then they both burst out laughing.

  “You do know that this is not the norm for me, don’t you?” Bianca said.

  Jarrod shrugged as he moved into the room and took a seat beside her. “I just know it’s not a pretty look,” he said.

  “Well, tell me something I don’t know!”

  “Hey, I’m just being honest with you.”

  “What did your father say?”

  “He didn’t say anything. But if he did, he would have told you that you looked good. He would have lied to spare your feelings. I’m your friend. I don’t care about your feelings. I’m obligated to tell you the truth.”