Winter Dreams

by Robyn Neeley

  She opened the box, revealing chocolate cheesecake decorated with chocolate ganache and white chocolate drizzle. “This is great. Thank you.”

  Her fluttering eyelashes distracted him, but the moan she let out when she took her first bite went straight to his groin. Now he was second-guessing his decision to bring dessert. He’d wanted his grown up company to stay longer — he hadn’t anticipated being reminded of the more carnal pleasures he missed with his self-imposed solitude. Or had he? As he tried to resolve his true motive, she interrupted his thoughts.

  “If it’s not too rude, what prompted this delicious treat?”

  “I was by the shop and cheesecake sounded good. It’s been a long time since I’ve indulged in dessert after Eloise has gone to bed. Dessert always tastes better when … ”

  He hesitated. Calling her a friend didn’t seem quite right. She seemed more than that, even though he barely knew her.

  Rescuing him she said, “When it’s shared.” She smiled mischievously and dangled her fork toward his take out container.

  He chuckled, knowing exactly what she wanted and held the container closer for her inspection. She took a small bite before proffering her own cheesecake.

  “Yum, pecans and caramel.” Her expression turned serious. “I can’t remember the last time I did something like this, having dessert just because.” She sighed. “If I’m forced into retirement, at least I’ll be able to eat dessert a little more often.”

  He looked at her slender form, then rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to lose weight. I’ve come to think of you as a positive influence on my daughter.”

  “That’s not it, not exactly. But I am careful when I’m working. The seamstresses get a little testy if they have to let out the costume because I’m bloated from too much sugar or alcohol. I don’t, I mean didn’t, like to cause extra trouble for them.”

  “Sounds like a career of all work and no play.”

  “There’s play.”

  His mind flashed to that blond hair of hers against a pillow, beckoning him. He didn’t want to speculate further on her having lovers traveling with her, but he had to know one thing. He cleared his throat. “So you used to date John Patterson.”

  “Yeah, for a couple of weeks. I think he wanted to be rebellious by dating someone who his parents wouldn’t like, but he was deeply disappointed when I didn’t put out.” Relief filled him as she shrugged. “He probably wouldn’t remember me, but I only went out with two boys, including him, during high school and college.”

  “I would’ve pegged you as a heartbreaker, both then and now.” That beautiful sound of bells filled the air as she laughed. His heart cracked open.

  “Hardly. Besides, I don’t date.”

  “Really? I thought I saw you with someone at the mall a few weeks ago.”

  She shook her head. “My brother. I was going to introduce him to you and Eloise but you disappeared and now he teases me about my invisible friends. And you should talk. I’ve seen the way the mothers, especially the single mothers, in my class look at you.”

  “How is that?”

  She tipped her cup back so far, he knew she must be at the end even before she set it on the coffee table. She glanced at the nearly empty cheesecake box, before turning those stunning blue eyes on him.

  “They look like they could devour you almost as fast as I ate that cheesecake.”

  He didn’t know how to respond to her. He was surprised that she too noticed the almost predatory way some women looked at him as soon as they learned he was a widower. She wasn’t like that. Grateful as he was that she hadn’t looked at him with undisguised lust, especially in front of his daughter, he wondered if she thought of him as anything other than the father of one of her students.

  He could play it safe, make a feeble joke about dessert. Instead, he let impulse rule, for once.

  He cupped his hands on her face and pressed his lips against hers. She yielded at the soft pressure, her lips parting ever so slightly. He accepted her invitation, deepening the kiss. She tasted not merely of cheesecake and coffee, but a flavor best described as joy.

  Her soft golden curls wrapped around his fingers. He savored her mouth, teasing and tasting her as his tongue explored unknown territory. Her small gasps and the clean scent of her skin thrilled his senses. Her fingers gripped his arm. Her other hand teased near his thigh, not touching, but almost. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her back. His fingers roamed across her upper back, unconsciously looking for her wings. He’d never kissed a fairy before.

  As soon as the thought echoed in his head, he realized what he was doing. He opened his eyes and leaned away as she blinked in surprise.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” His voice sounded ragged — he was out of breath, but also angry with himself for his foolish transgression.

  “I thought you were doing fine. Better than fine actually.”

  He struggled, mind versus body not to yield to the promises offered in her soothing voice. He stood, creating the physical space he needed as he paced the room.

  He rubbed his hands on his face and in his hair, trying to scrub away all thoughts of her. Looking up to see the hurt and desire still simmering in her eyes, he had to turn away.

  “I shouldn’t have done that. It just seemed so right, but … ” He glanced toward the hallway, lined with photos of his family, with Catherine, on the approach to where his daughter slept.

  In his peripheral vision he watched as she stood and approached him, stopping at the tree, before coming too close. She gently lifted silver rocking horse Eloise so adored. “A wise man once wrote something to the effect that humans are inherently social creatures. Sometimes, we get lonely. Companionship is a basic need.”

  He stopped pacing. She gave him the out he needed without chastising or judging. He didn’t need to explain how part of him still loved Catherine and always would. He didn’t need to express his fear that he would screw up somehow if they became intimate. His one time being with a woman since Catherine’s death had ended disastrously when he shouted out Catherine’s name instead of his partner’s. He feared putting Penelope through that humiliation. She deserved better. She was so full of joy. She needed someone who would love her fully and completely. He was damaged goods.

  “Maslow’s chart of needs. How did you get to be so smart?”

  Shrugging her shoulders, she intoned, “I’ve had a lot of time to read while on the road. I’ve never been one for late nights in smoky clubs. It’s bad for my instrument.”

  He was confused for a moment by her words. She lowered the ornament before meeting his gaze. “My body, my voice, my instrument.”

  It was a beautiful instrument. She took good care of it, but he was a doctor, not a musician.

  Silence spread between them. “I should go.” She walked toward the door.

  “Wait.”

  She turned.

  “You forgot this.” He held up her book and nodded toward the knitting draped on the back of the couch.

  “Thanks.” She gathered her things, tucking them into a colorful bag.

  He helped her into her coat, knowing they had nothing left to say to each other. Opening the door for her, she passed through the entry into the cool night air.

  Turning back for a brief moment, she flashed him a forced smile, but her words sounded sincere. “Don’t forget family and friends are encouraged to come to the show off day on Tuesday. I’m sure Eloise would love your support.”

  He nodded and closed the door. He was a jerk. But it was better to never get started than to put them both through unnecessary pain, even if it meant someone else would get to enjoy that beautiful laugh.

  • • •

  Penelope steeled herself before class on Tuesday, using the same pep talk she gave herself when anxi
ous before a performance or audition. It was only one day. It was only one hour. For tonight’s class, she added reminders about how hard the children had worked and how excited they were to show off before their parents. The more she thought about the children, the more her own enthusiasm grew. Some of the kids had been talking about their costumes for weeks. She hoped Eloise would wear her new white tutu.

  She spent the afternoon setting the stage as much as she could without disrupting the other classes. She strung fairy lights around the mirrors and along ceiling moldings. She double-checked her sets, consisting solely of large glittery snowflakes made of foam board. She tested the stereo system, hoping to avoid the embarrassing mishap of her last show off day. Mostly, she waited. Her nerves hadn’t rattled like this since a national magazine reviewed her performance of Peter Pan.

  With her tutu visible under the hem of her coat, Eloise arrived second, accompanied by her Patterson grandparents. Penelope wrestled with relief and disappointment. She wanted to see Carson again. But last Friday’s passionate kiss and confusing aftermath left her wondering whether any good could come from it. She tried not to dwell on the kiss, but at random times she remembered his tenderness and the strength of his body enveloping hers. She could hold onto the memory for those quiet nights on the road. If only she could separate them from the way he cast her out when he remembered she wasn’t Catherine.

  She greeted the Pattersons, relieved they brought their digital video camera. At the very least, he could watch Eloise at a later time. She doubted he’d show up here willingly again and risk embarrassing either one of them.

  Although by design her class emphasized movement, the show off class featured two original poems and an interpretation of “Frosty the Snowman.” Penelope worried about the latter in particular. They’d practiced it only twice with uneven results, but the girls wanted to sing so badly. Ultimately, the class was about the girls and exploring their creativity. Figuring out how to go “bumpity bump bump” had brought lots of laughs, but they’d also had a few hard collisions in the process, the type that would bring over protective parents running to sweep up their child and yell at her for being so irresponsible.

  The girls started their warm-ups then transformed into trees preparing for the winter and then into the first delicate snowflakes. The first girl read her poem as several girls pantomimed a snowball fight. As she lowered the music once more, the faint creak of the front door reached her ears. Carson came after all. Perfect timing, she thought. He looked good in a shirt and tie. She reminded herself this was a stage. The audience sat removed from the performers. She was the emcee, providing introductions. Carson was remote in oh so many ways. But that didn’t change the memory of his lips on hers. Softly padded feet echoed on the wood floor. Today was not her day. It was all about the girls.

  She introduced “Frosty the Snowman,” declaring, “Believe it or not, this was not their most dangerous idea.” She gave Carson a wink before walking further back in the room and tucking a few items behind the large snowflakes. She hoped he’d figure out that his daughter masterminded this part of the performance and not think she was trying to seduce him. Not after last week. After a cleansing breath, she counted off and sang quietly to help the girls stay together in the song.

  Eloise stood as the other girls dressed her in different costume pieces transforming her into Frosty. From her vantage point, Penelope enjoyed watching as the audience went slack-jawed as the girls threw bubble wrap on the floor. With great physical effort and every possible body part, the girls popped the bubbles. Some jumped, some rolled on the floor, and some pushed each other. She struggled to hold back her mirth as Eloise did something best described as bouncing on her bottom. The girls laughed so hard they couldn’t sing, but she did her best to finish the lyrics for them.

  Next, Eloise, still in her snowman costume and slightly out of breath, moved to center stage to read her original poem. Having taught her for five months, she admired the little girl’s growing confidence, but her heart ached for the motherless child every time she listened to it. She suspected she wouldn’t be the only one tearing up today.

  “Christmas star light and bright,

  Bring a wish to me tonight.

  I don’t want presents or money,

  Or a big fat tummy.

  I want my Mommy, oops, I mean my family, to hold me tight,

  And give me kisses all through the night.”

  Pleased Eloise corrected her mistake quickly and adorably, rather than getting upset as she had the other day in rehearsal, Penelope pulled herself together, allowing the audience to do the same. She daubed her eyes with the handkerchief concealed in her hand before starting the applause.

  After a moment, she stepped forward. “Thank you all for coming today and more importantly, thank you all for sharing your wonderful, creative daughters with me for the last few months. I hope you are as proud of them as I am.”

  With a quick swish of her skirts she signaled the girls to run to their parents for hugs and kisses.

  Allowing her students a private moment to accept the adulations of their most ardent fans, she began picking up the bubble wrap, alone. In the mirrored wall, she quietly watched as Eloise jumped into Carson’s lap before reaching over to hug her grandparents. For the first time, she wondered what it must be like for a parent to watch their child blossom, what it would be like to watch her own child.

  She glanced away from the mirror, scooping up more debris from the floor. There was too much to pick up to let her mind travel down paths untaken. Spending so much time fostering the girls’ imaginations apparently sent hers into overdrive. Perhaps she’d call her brother Quinn later. He wouldn’t let her wallow in pity.

  She heard foot falls and before she finished her thought, arms wrapped tight around her legs, nearly knocking her off balance.

  Eloise practically shouted, “You need kisses, too! I’ll be your little girl.”

  Sloppy kisses and tears moistened her cheeks at this spontaneous outpouring of affection. She crouched to return the hug and within seconds, other girls rushed over, wanting to give her a hug as well. She’d think about Eloise’s words later. Now, she needed to pull herself together, and say goodbye to all the girls since she knew she wouldn’t be back after the holidays.

  As families filed out, she noticed Carson and Eloise lagging behind, zipping their coats in slow motion. She didn’t want to clean the floors in front of any of the students or their parents so she started to push the audience’s chairs back into place.

  “Let me help,” Carson said.

  He spoke with that same low rumble he used when offering her coffee last weekend. Penelope knew she couldn’t blame the coffee for the warming sensation within her body. She wondered if he used that tone just to drive her mad or if he was oblivious to power to charm? She swallowed hard, but refused to look at him. She couldn’t risk looking into those eyes. She might imagine an invitation to press her lips against his.

  “Sure. It will make the cleanup go faster.”

  Stacking chairs, he paused. She followed his gaze to watch Eloise practicing pirouettes in the middle of the room, a serious expression on her face. Penelope smiled. She knew how much Eloise struggled with spotting and how determined she was to master the skill. She was about to ask Carson if she had a spot to practice at home when he broke the silence.

  “Are you available on Saturday?”

  “What time?” She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice. After last Friday, she doubted he would ever let her watch Eloise again. She didn’t want to know the details. He probably had a date for a holiday party and the Pattersons were otherwise engaged. But she’d do it. For Eloise.

  “Would six work?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good.”

  They put the last few chairs away in silence. They said goodbye, in that cordial w
ay one does with teachers, although she and Eloise exchanged one last hug before she skipped toward the door. She listened, amused, as Eloise attempted to convince him that they should have ice cream for dinner to celebrate her performance. She used to do the same thing at that age and sometimes it even worked, but then her parents would insist on broccoli for dessert. Carson probably insisted on a healthy dinner or at least one without the possibility of sprinkles. That was yet another reason why she should forget last week’s kiss.

  • • •

  Penelope dressed for comfort in stretchy black pants and a t-shirt with a sparkly Christmas tree, which she thought Eloise would like, and a black cardigan she’d knit two years ago. She didn’t spend nearly as much time on hair and make-up as she had during her last visits to the Langley home. Nearing the house, she admired the Christmas tree, enjoying the street view. No other holiday lights or décor competed with the tree for attention.

  It struck her as appropriate. She suspected Carson preferred the single focus on the tree. It fit with the rest of him. His singular focus on his daughter, his continued attachment to his deceased wife in spite of the vulnerability he showed last week. Steeling herself for cordial chatter with him, she stepped onto the porch and rang the bell.

  He opened the door.

  “Good. I’m glad you’re here.” He invited her inside and removed her coat, but without the accidental touch she so enjoyed before. Just as well. She searched the foyer, trying to ignore the man beside her as she sorted out what else was missing.

  “Where’s Eloise? Last time she gave me a hug before I even had a chance to take off my coat.” She bent as she spoke so she could undo her boots and not track melting snow throughout the house.

  “She’s with her Grandma and Pappy.”

  She couldn’t have heard him right. She straightened and glared at him, but he appeared unfazed. If anything, he seemed relieved or possibly … dare she say … happy? It was too much. Sighing, she leaned over, preparing to rebuckle her left boot.