Christmas Steele

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  She stood, taking a sip of her now-tepid coffee. It really was good. She took a sip of Jason’s and stuck out her tongue, nearly gagging at the cloyingly sweet taste of cream and sugar. Why did he care how his coffee was brewed if it only served as a conveyance for other things? She shook her head; she would never understand him.

  After clearing their mugs and rinsing them in the sink, she returned to the living room to find Jason still asleep. Poor guy, she thought, conjuring the mental image of him working all hours so people with wives and children could have the time off.

  “You’re as sweet as you are beautiful,” she whispered, knowing she would never be able to get away with such a statement while he was awake. He liked to think of himself as a tough guy, but he wasn’t.

  Lacy covered him with the afghan—noting as she did so that it was hand knit. Who had knit him an afghan? She had a hard time picturing any of the girls he dated being that domestic, but had no idea who else would have done such a thing. He wasn’t close to his family. That was how it went with Jason, though. He always invited more questions than answers.

  After assuring herself that he was properly covered, she leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips, backing away when he stirred slightly and reached for her. Waking him mid-kiss would be a very bad idea, indeed. With his defenses so low, they could get into some real trouble.

  She turned out all the lights, grabbed her powdered sugar, and let herself out, securing the door behind her. Then she picked up the pace and jogged home, vowing to bypass the prune cake when she arrived.

  Chapter 6

  When Lacy arrived home, the television and prune cake were calling her name, but she passed them both, sticking to the strict bedtime she had invoked for herself. By eleven, she was asleep, and she woke by eight the next morning, feeling good about getting into a routine again.

  She ate a quiet breakfast with her parents and grandmother. She hoped the stillness was a positive sign, but she had the feeling it was a bad omen, as if her mother were saving all her displeasure for when Mr. Middleton arrived.

  There was a knock on the door and Lacy answered it, thinking it might be Tosh. He often stopped by if he was out visiting some of his parishioners. It wasn’t Tosh, though. It was Jason, and he looked angry. He was also wearing his uniform.

  “Are you working a double today?” Lacy asked, stepping out onto the porch. He didn’t usually work so early in the morning.

  “Yes,” he said, his tone clipped.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it was the fact that I woke up in a panic with no idea where you were until I realized you walked home in the pitch black at night.”

  “Technically, I jogged. And there was a bright moon.”

  “Lacy,” he said, scowling. “What were you thinking?”

  “That I didn’t want to wake you. You looked exhausted.”

  “You could have taken my car,” he said.

  “You told me stealing a cop’s car is a felony,” she said.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s too early in the morning to deal with you. Just don’t do it again. You scared me.” He softened, smiling. “And you didn’t kiss me goodbye.”

  “Sure I did. In fact, it was one of our better kisses. I think you should be asleep for more of them.”

  He reached out, grabbing the waistband of her pants, though he didn’t use it to tug her closer. Instead he walked to her, closing the gap between them. “You kissed me while I was asleep?” His knuckles skimmed her bare skin.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I don’t remember. I demand a rematch.”

  She shook her head, tucking her hands behind her back so she wouldn’t be tempted to touch him. “I can’t kiss you when I’m this close to my mother. I’m convinced she has some sort of tracking device on me because she tends to pop into view whenever I have my lips on a man.”

  “How many men have had your lips on them?” he asked.

  “Not telling,” she said.

  He tried a different track. “What’s so bad about me seeing your mom? She already knows me. And you’ve told her about me, haven’t you?”

  She pressed her lips together, shaking her head again.

  “No?” he asked, sounding dismayed.

  “If you met her, you’d understand. I haven’t told her about anything, not her adoption or Barbara Blake or my inheritance.”

  “Did you tell her about him?” he asked. Him being Tosh, she presumed.

  She shook her head. “Grandma did, though.”

  He relaxed at that, his smile returning as his knuckles grazed her navel.

  “Did you tell your mom about me?” she asked, more as a way of fighting her inevitable reaction to his touch than because she thought he actually might have.

  “No, but I haven’t talked to my mom in about a year.”

  She frowned. “Jason, what are you doing for Christmas?”

  “Working,” he said.

  Breaking her no-touch rule, she lifted her hands and pressed her palms to his cheeks. The thought of him alone and working on Christmas made her unbearably sad. “Come to our holiday party,” she invited. “It’s on Christmas Eve.”

  He turned his head, skimming her palm with his lips. “I’m working Christmas Eve,” he said.

  “Jason, I’m worried about you. You’re working too much.”

  “I’m fine, and I’ll try to stop by for a while on Christmas Eve. If it’s not busy then I can take my supper break here.” He paused. “Are you inviting him?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know if he’ll be here or not. He might be flying back to Chicago to spend Christmas with his family.”

  “I’ll put that on my Christmas wish list,” Jason said. “Speaking of Christmas,” he let go her waistband and touched his index finger lightly to her collarbone. “How do you feel about jewelry?”

  Was he referring to the necklace he had already bought her? Before she could reference it, she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to have opened it until Christmas. “I like jewelry,” she said. “But you don’t have to buy me anything, Jason.”

  “Where’s your Christmas spirit, Red?” he asked.

  In New York with my sister and ex-fiancé, she thought.

  “Stop,” Jason commanded.

  “Stop what?” Lacy asked, surprised at his harsh tone.

  “Stop looking like a puppy that’s just been kicked. I am so tired of seeing you mourn for that loser who obviously didn’t deserve you anyway. Just get over it already.”

  Lacy wriggled free of his embrace, which wasn’t easy since she was pressed against the porch. She sidestepped him and placed one hand on the door. “Gee, Jason, why didn’t I think of that? Problem solved. I’m over it now. Thanks for the help.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I swear your temper is worse than some of the drug addicts I deal with. I simply meant that I care about you, and I’m tired of seeing you in pain. I want you to move on.”

  “Don’t you think I want that? But I don’t know how to let it go.”

  “Well, figure it out, Lacy, because it’s obvious you can’t be with anyone until you let it go.”

  “What do you care?” she asked, becoming angry all over again. “You’re Mr. Confirmed Bachelor, remember? What does it matter to you if I’m able to be in a relationship again?”

  “If you have to ask the question, then you wouldn’t understand the answer,” he replied, smiling at her perplexed expression. “I need to get back to work. If I ever get fired, it’s going to be because of you and the disruption you cause in my life.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but he pressed his finger to her lips. “Save it for next time, Red. I really have to go. See you.” He leaned in. Lacy closed her eyes, but he bypassed her lips and kissed her cheek in a gesture that disconcerted her for its similarity to Tosh’s standard goodbye.

  “See you,” she said dully. “And get some rest,” she adde
d as he jogged down the stairs. He threw a wave over his shoulder, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge that she had spoken.

  Her parents were locked in their room when Lacy entered the house. Were they arguing? She hoped not. Her grandmother was in the kitchen, staring listlessly at the empty counter.

  “Grandma, is everything okay?” Lacy asked.

  “Of course, dear,” her grandmother said.

  Lacy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her grandmother’s hair could be on fire and she would still insist that not a thing was amiss in her life.

  “Pastor Underhill called while you were outside,” Lucinda said.

  “Did he say what he wanted?” Lacy asked.

  “No, dear, but I told him I would give you the message he called. I think he was hoping for a callback.”

  Lacy reached for her phone and paused. “Grandma, do you disapprove of women calling men?”

  Her grandmother gave her a wry smile. “Not when it’s you and my pastor, dear,” she said.

  Lacy smiled. Her grandmother was a matchmaker, but at least she was subtle about it. Tosh’s phone rang so many times Lacy thought it was going to go to voicemail, but at last he picked up.

  “Hey,” he said, sounding breathless.

  “Hey,” Lacy said, cheered by the sound of his voice. Over the last few months, she and Tosh had become inseparable, spending most of their evenings and weekends together unless he had a church function. She had only seen him once in the last couple of weeks, and she missed him horribly.

  “I’m free tonight,” he said, bubbling with enthusiasm. “Want to come over? I’ll cook for you.”

  “By that do you mean you’ll order takeout?” she said. Tosh couldn’t cook, a fact she had learned the hard way.

  “Must you suck the romance from every conversation? Yes, I’m ordering takeout.”

  “Then I’m in. Are cookies still banned, or should I bring some?”

  “Anything but gingerbread; I think I’m developing an aversion. Bring what you like.”

  Lacy smiled because they both knew what he was leaving unsaid—that she would most likely be the one eating the cookies. Tosh didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, and Lacy felt like it was going against nature to not have dessert with supper. “What time?”

  “I’ll pick you up at six,” he said.

  “You know my mother is here,” she said, cupping her hand around the phone and lowering her voice. “You’re going to have to meet her.”

  “Okay,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  She smiled. Unlike her, Tosh didn’t find meeting new people intimidating. For Lacy, it ranked up there with running and having deep conversations about her emotions—she would rather do almost anything else.

  Since they were going to be seeing each other that night, they didn’t stay on the phone. Almost as soon as Lacy disconnected, her mother emerged from her room, still looking sullen and grumpy. To make matters worse, Mr. Middleton arrived just then, letting himself in as was his custom.

  “Mother, he just walks in here?” Frannie said, though she was looking at Mr. Middleton.

  “Mom,” Lacy said. “This is Grandma’s house. Her friends can do whatever they want.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, young lady,” her mother replied.

  “Lacy’s right.” This came from Mr. Middleton who stepped protectively closer to Lacy.

  Frannie stared at him for a second, abashed. “You have no right to interfere in a family matter.”

  “This is your mother’s house, and if she wants me to go, then the decision should be hers,” Mr. Middleton added.

  Everyone turned to look at Lucinda. For a few beats, she stood looking helplessly between her boyfriend and her daughter. Then, seemingly coming to a decision, she steeled her spine and stepped forward, taking Mr. Middleton’s hand.

  “Frannie, what exactly is your objection to Tom?” she asked.

  “He’s not my father,” Frannie blurted, sounding more like a teenager than a grown woman. Lacy held her breath, noticing Mr. Middleton’s slight flinch. Lucinda took another deep breath before plunging in again.

  “Nonetheless, he’s your former principal and very special to me. If you can’t treat him with polite respect, then you’re not the same woman your father and I raised you to be.”

  “This whole situation is just so unfair,” Frannie said, beginning to cry.

  Lacy supposed she should have some sympathy for her mother. If something happened to her father, she would have a hard time seeing her mother with a new man. But the tears were too reminiscent of Riley and one of the tricks she had always used to get her way for Lacy to feel much sympathy. Cynically she wondered if her mother expected her tears to have a softening effect on her grandmother. What did she expect her mother to say, “Go away, boyfriend, my grown daughter is having a tantrum?”

  In the end, it was Mr. Middleton who said that, or something similar. “Maybe I should give this situation a little space until things calm down,” he said.

  Lacy and her grandmother looked at him in surprise while Frannie kept up her hysterics and Lacy’s father looked helplessly around the room—probably for escape. The whole situation was just so sad, Lacy thought. It would have been bad enough if it was simply a daughter rebelling at the idea of a new man in her mother’s life, but there was so much more going on. There was a father, desperate to know his daughter, the daughter who was now rejecting him, banishing him to spend yet another lonely Christmas without his family.

  “No!” Lacy hadn’t meant to shout the word, but that was what she did. And then, to make matters worse, she burst into tears, too. She had never resorted to using tears as a weapon, reserving them for times when she was truly upset. Now must have been one of those times, because she was helpless to stop her crying. “Mom, you can’t send him away.” She went to stand next to her grandfather, clasping his hand. “No one is saying you have to have some type of immediate bond with him, but you have to give him a chance.”

  “Christmas is for families, Lacy,” her mother said, sounding remarkably composed despite her tears.

  “He is our family,” Lacy said thickly, swiping at her eyes. “We spend all of our waking time with him, and we love him. And if he goes, I’m going with him.”

  “Lacy,” everyone said at once in completely differing tones.

  “She’s right, Frannie.” This came from Clint, Lacy’s father. Now everyone turned to look at him in surprise. Like Lacy, he saved his emotion for the big things, but he sounded legitimately upset now. “We can’t come in here and tell Lucy how to live her life. And it’s not like she’s dating a tattooed swindler. This is Mr. Middleton we’re talking about. We know him, and we know he’s a good man. Why don’t we all take a deep breath and begin again?”

  Frannie looked around the group, dismayed at having lost her only remaining ally. Her dismay fled, only to be replaced by defiant anger once again. “Fine, if that’s the way everyone wants it, then just fine!” Flinging out the words, she turned and stormed down the hallway to her room, slamming the door.

  Lucinda sighed. “It’s like she’s fifteen all over again,” she muttered.

  “She’ll come around,” Clint said unconvincingly. “She just needs some time to adjust. I’ll talk to her.” He turned and plodded down the hall with measured steps as if he were heading to impending doom. Maybe he was.

  “Maybe you should just tell her,” Lacy suggested softly once her parents were safely concealed in their room.

  Mr. Middleton and her grandmother shook their heads simultaneously. “I think that would make things even worse,” Lucinda said. “Although she’s always liked her theatrics, she’s never been one to handle real drama well. She likes her life routine and predictable. Throwing something so large at her at this late stage might be a blow from which she’ll never recover. I just want the remaining years we have together to be as peaceful as possible.”

  “I agree,” Mr. Middleton said. “We’ll have to hope that s
he makes peace with the situation. And if she doesn’t…” He let his words trail off. Lacy wondered what he would say next. If she doesn’t, then what? Surely he wouldn’t leave their lives? If her mother didn’t make peace with the situation, then they would live in constant stress until one of them died. What sort of life was that? None. Lacy’s stomach began to twist in anxiety, hating the situation.

  Mr. Middleton put his arm around her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get some fresh air and a coffee. We’ll talk about anything but what’s happening here and give us both a break.” Lacy nodded and he leaned forward to slip his other arm around Lucinda. “Will you be okay while we’re gone, Lucy?”

  Lucinda slipped her arms around his waist and hugged, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. Lacy had never seen her stalwart grandmother draw comfort from someone else before. It was a revelation; her grandmother had needs of her own, comfort and security being chief among them. Why couldn’t her mother see how much Mr. Middleton meant to her grandmother? How much he meant to Lacy?

  “I’ll be fine, Tom,” Lucinda said. “I’ll work on supper.”

  Lacy and her grandfather smiled, knowing that being in the kitchen was Lucinda’s own brand of therapy. Mr. Middleton leaned down and kissed Lucinda then, and not his usual brusque kiss on in the cheek, either. The kiss was chaste and brief, but it stirred something deep within Lacy as she watched the affectionate exchange, something that recognized the deep love and respect between her grandparents and made her yearn to find something of her own.

  Unbidden her thoughts turned to Jason. There was no doubt they had explosive chemistry. They couldn’t seem to get within five feet of each other and not touch, but what happened when the chemistry wore off? What happened when people were too old or too sick to use physical touch to convey emotion? How did one find lasting happiness based on mutual respect and admiration? Lacy thought she had found that once with Robert, but he had cheated on her and broken her heart. How could she ever hope to find it again?