by Robyn Neeley
Murmuring words of comfort in his daughter’s ear, she reluctantly got up, wiped her nose, and said her goodbyes. He loaded the car as quickly as possible, promising a return trip for any items left behind.
He started the engine, cautiously pulled out of the drive, and headed toward his destination.
“Daddy, you forgot to turn for our house.”
“I thought we’d take a detour.” He flashed a reassuring smile in the rearview mirror, but she continued to eye him with suspicion.
Her lower lip jutted forth, trembling slightly. “Oh no, I didn’t even get to sing and I practiced so hard this year. I thought Grandma would be impressed.”
“Maybe we can sing for someone else. Are you up for some caroling?”
“I don’t know, Daddy.” At least his petulant princess was honest. He admired that about her.
As he made the second to last turn she shouted, “We’re going to Miss Penny’s house, aren’t we?”
He smiled. He parked on the street, taking in the sight before him. One string of lights on the tree in the front window stubbornly refused to blink. A snowman with one short arm and one oversized branch stood guard in the front yard. Lights glowed softly within and people laughed in silhouette. So much warmth radiated from the home, he could have left his coat in the car.
“Come on. Let’s go show off your singing.”
• • •
Chaos ruled Christmas morning at the Glazier house. Penelope carried all the presents from her little tree and burst through the backdoor of her parents’ house to the smell of bacon and frying onions. Her brother Owen chopped potatoes while his wife stood stirring the onions.
“Misty, what are you doing standing up? That baby looks ready to pop any minute now.”
“I’m not due for another month. If you want me to sit, you better get to work.”
“I’ll do my best to hurry back, but first I have to put my stuff down.”
In the large room that served as the living, play, family, and entertainment room, she scattered her gifts under the tree, including the mysterious package that appeared yesterday. Outside, the crunch of tires bouncing over the compacted snow at the end of the driveway alerted her to another guest. She rushed to the window and smiled at her older sister Ophelia’s minivan. She ran out to unstrap her eight-month-old nephew, Caleb, and bring him inside. Even through the swaddling, he smelled great. Her sister walked her three-year-old son Ben carefully inside as her brother-in-law carried several bags of presents and food for the buffet.
Surveying the chaos, she wished her youngest brother, Quinn, had come, too. But with the deadline on his graphic novel fast approaching, he couldn’t get home this year. She understood that. She’d missed a number of family gatherings due to work obligations.
They ate a hearty breakfast of hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits, which turned out great in spite of her help. Preparing breakfast reminded her of how far she’d come in the last few months. If she stayed in one place, she could get an apartment and learn even more. She thought about Carson and how he taught himself to cook. It was almost as inspiring as his lovemaking. She saddened at the realization she wouldn’t experience either his cooking or his bed ever again. She pushed all thoughts of him out of her mind, refusing to let her recent disappointments spoil the festivities.
Right after breakfast, they made quick work of the presents under the tree. The huge box her father opened contained layer after layer to work through, revealing nothing more than a single pair of socks. Caleb kept dozing off and Ben tried to hide him under piles of discarded wrapping paper. The annual balled up paper fight was a tremendous success this year, knocking only one ornament off the tree. And best of all, for once, no one was sick.
She tried being covert when unwrapping the small package from Carson. She lifted the simple yet elegant silver charm necklace from the box. Two small blue stones that looked like sapphires sparkled on either side of a loop and in the center hung a delicately crafted fairy. His extravagance surprised her. It struck her as the sort of gift one might give a lover.
She caressed the cool metal, considering what it meant, if anything. Although they’d shared one magical night together, by all appearances, he still loved his deceased wife and he despised her desire to dance. He didn’t think much of her job. Yet to have selected something so perfect, he must have put some thought into it. Did he give her this because he felt guilty or because he genuinely liked her?
Her mother caught her eye and arched an eyebrow as she swiftly put it back in the box. She’d been caught.
Her mom swooped in. “That looked like a nice necklace. May I see it?”
She handed over the box, without sharing the tag.
“I doubt this came from your brothers or sister. It’s not their style.”
Her cheeks grew warm, but she stayed quiet.
“Is this from that widower with the girl, Eloise?”
She squirmed, chewing her lip and trying to hide her increasingly flushed cheeks.
Slapping her hand on her knee, her mother squealed. “I knew it. You’ve got that love glow.” The others turned her way.
Pressing her hands over her eyes and forehead, she tried to fight off the headache starting to thump. “Mom, you’re embarrassing me. Anyway, it’s not that simple.”
“It never is, dear. That’s why life is so wonderful.”
• • •
Penelope, her mom, and Ophelia washed the dinner prep pots and pans with the efficiency of a well oiled machine. Even though the men frequently volunteered to help, Mom Glazier preferred washing dishes with her girls and Penelope enjoyed the special time with Mom. It was their designated girl time where they giggled and gossiped. Over tea towels, Penelope and her mom first learned of Ophelia’s hopes for marriage. Normally, Penelope shared details of a disastrous date or lovelorn fan hoping to make Mom and Ophelia laugh. But when she cried over that lout who neglected to tell her he was married, Mom got her smiling again by threatening to move her to the washing end of the sink so she couldn’t re-wet the dishes.
She refused to fall for Mom’s efforts to learn more about the mysterious gift giver. She couldn’t explain what she didn’t understand, herself. She tried to deflect answers by talking about auditions. Ophelia must have sensed Penelope’s discomfort. She didn’t join in Mom’s efforts to probe. Instead, she mentioned she might homeschool her children. Mom Glazer turned her full attention on Ophelia, who in turn gave Penelope a thumbs up behind their mother’s back. She owed her sister, big time. Before the discussion grew heated, the doorbell chimed.
Mom paused. “Are we expecting anyone? Penelope, did Quinn tell you any secrets you should now share?”
“N — no.”
From the living room her dad shouted, “I’ll get it!”
Mom ran for the front door as she and Ophelia shook their heads. “I hope Mom isn’t too disappointed. Quinn really isn’t coming.” An enthusiastic rendition of Deck the Halls reached their ears. She knew those voices. Tossing the towel on kitchen counter, she pushed through the crowd of family gathered by the door. Carson and Eloise stood on the front porch. But why?
• • •
Carson watched as Penelope pushed her way past her family to shouts of, “Miss Penny! Miss Penny!”
Eloise quickly stopped singing in her excitement upon seeing her beloved teacher. He understood. She was radiant. His voice caught in his throat as she met his gaze and smiled.
She gave his daughter a hug. “Thank you for singing for us. What a wonderful surprise.”
Mom Glazier leaned in. “We should be able to find some hot chocolate for our carolers. Does anyone know how to make wassail? Wouldn’t that be fun? Just like the song.” She began nudging family out of the way to make room for their guests to come in. “Ophelia, take their coats. Shoes by th
e door, please. Penelope, introduce your friends.”
In no time, she introduced him to everyone, and Eloise joined Ben and his new wooden block set. Mom Glazier made peppermint schnapps hot chocolate, and Misty whipped up a non-alcoholic version for herself and the children.
“I hope we’re not intruding,” Carson told Penelope’s father.
“Not at all. You’ve given us an excuse for a kicked up drink.” Dad Glazier surveyed the room, and in a conspiratorial stage whisper, announced, “You might want to leave before the charades start though. This crowd looks dangerous.”
From across the room, a masculine voice shouted, “You don’t want to risk having any more young people around to whip your wrinkled butt!” A flying wad of wrapping paper followed.
“You’re going to get it. Teasing an old man like that.” Soon the room erupted into a chaotic free-for-all of airborne wrapping paper balls. Watching the paper sail through the air, he suspected Penelope frequently had to rebuild fairy houses when she was a girl. Her family was loud, but good natured. He heard far more laughter than taunting and when Mrs. Glazier put her fingers in her mouth and whistled, the chaos stopped before she finished asking everyone to mind the lamps. She spoke with authority, but not hostility. Everyone listened, even Eloise, who smiled sheepishly and turned back to the blocks. He now understood where Penelope learned her techniques for corralling the children in her dance class.
Above all, he sensed the love. The genuine regard in which the family members held each other radiated outward, pulling him and Eloise into a figurative embrace. He couldn’t imagine Sue welcoming two extra people into her home on Christmas day. Unexpected guests would throw off her seeing arrangements and schedule.
His gaze met Penelope’s when she returned to the room. The left side of her mouth ticked upward as she bent forward to reach something on the floor without ever losing eye contact. He remembered how well her limber body fit against his and how the world seemed a good and happy place when he wrapped her in his arms.
Her hand shot out, launching a wrapping paper ball in his general vicinity. On instinct, he reached for it, plucking it from the air before it reached its target.
“Well,” declared Mrs. Glazier, “At least somebody cares about the lamps.”
• • •
Over the next few hours, Carson learned that Ophelia taught piano lessons and made her own curtains. Since he needed new curtains and wanted Eloise to start piano, he made sure to get her information. She apparently taught a few of his patients; she remembered his name from some mothers talking about putting on make-up and real clothes to “go see the kid’s doctor.” Then she laughed at his burning cheeks. Her missing-in-action younger brother, Quinn, drew comic books, while Owen wrote jingles. Her oldest brother, Nicholas, worked as a botanist making him the black sheep of the family for being the only one of the children with a traditional job. He learned Penelope once ran away to join the circus and dropped out of college to join a dance company in spite of having a full scholarship.
The Glazier family welcomed him and Eloise as if they’d been friends forever and nothing could be more normal than entertaining unexpected guests on Christmas day. He caught Penelope’s mother looking at him a few times and noticed how she watched Penelope carefully whenever she went near Eloise. He bet she didn’t miss a thing that went on in her house.
He considered his suspicions confirmed when she orchestrated an excuse for him to be alone with Penelope, asking them to retrieve some obscure bottle of liquor that she thought she last saw in the basement.
Penelope had barely closed the basement door when he pulled her in for a kiss, unable to resist any longer. Her soft lips yielded, inviting him to taste her mouth. Delicious, he thought. This is what I’ve craved all day, all week. Her fingers gripped his biceps, responding to his need with her own. He wanted to shuck his sweater. Hers as well. His fingers bumped the door, reminding him of the crowd on the other side of it. Slowly he released her. Her faint gasp of pleasure, warm against his jaw, encouraged him to kiss her again.
Resting his forehead against hers, he forced himself to avoid temptation yet again, otherwise, he wasn’t sure he could stop kissing her all over until she screamed his name as her body shook with joy.
“I hope you don’t mind us barging in.”
“Not at all. Actually, it gives me a chance to say thank you. That necklace is lovely. You shouldn’t — ”
He cut her off, pressing his finger to her lips. “I wanted to.” He studied her eyes. “But just so you know, that necklace is nowhere near as lovely as you.” Even in the dim light, he could see her cheeks flush.
• • •
“Let’s go.” She turned her back and led him down the stairs, past a bookshelf and toward a built-in bar.
She stepped behind the wood paneled bar, senses heightened to his close proximity. The man’s tendency to run hot or cold drove her crazy, and not in the good way. Yesterday, he’d been frosty. Today, smoldering. Ready to confront him about his erratic behavior, she wondered if today he came for a booty call.
“I liked that CD you made.” His husky voice made her insides as gooey as good caramel.
“Oh, good. I hoped you would.”
He leaned against the bar. “It clarified things for me.”
She laughed, hoping her nerves didn’t make her sound shrill. “Really? Usually skater music obscures the real world, or so Quinn says. I thought you might need an escape from your day-to-day.”
He faced the wall opposite the bar. The shelves housed trophies of various sorts and the mirrors behind them revealed their age through soft reflection and eroding silver. She wondered if he thought it was silly that her parents still displayed the trophies, medals, and certificates she and her siblings earned while in school.
“For a long time, I thought my ‘day-to-day’ was fine. I kept busy, but I wasn’t really an active participant. I muddled through. I lied to myself, telling myself I wasn’t lonely. I just wanted to avoid the hurt. But I also avoided living. The last few weeks have been different. My life is so much better with you in it.” His eyes met hers in the mirror’s reflection. “Why do you have to leave? We have something special here. Don’t you feel it, too?”
Noting the pained expression on his face, she began to understand his mixed emotions. In spite of his self preservation instincts, he had chosen today to reach out to her, revealing more of himself than he had that night in front of the fireplace.
Penelope walked around the bar to stand beside him.
“I do.” She ran her fingers into his hair as she nuzzled into his neck. “You’ve complicated my life. Before you and Eloise came into my life, it was all so clear. I come home, I recuperate, try teaching, and get back to work as soon as possible … wherever that job takes me. Now, for the first time I wonder if there might be more to life than performing — and that scares me.”
He lifted her chin. “So what are we going to do about this?”
“I don’t know.”
He released her, sighing as he sat on one of the black vinyl bar stools. She pulled over another stool and sat beside him, extending her legs onto his footrest, intertwining their legs. She liked touching him, his warmth seeping into her body.
“Are you still leaving?”
“I have to. Come January first, I no longer have a place to live. Even if my parents didn’t have new renters for their cottage apartment, I wouldn’t have money to pay the rent.”
“What about teaching the girls?”
“One class a week doesn’t pay much. I could move into my parents’ house again but … ” She trailed off. She didn’t want to derail this conversation. His honesty deserved hers.
“I don’t think I’m done yet.”
“With?”
“With performing, dancing.”
“So what does
that mean? Spell it out for me.”
“It’s a lousy time for auditions right now. Nothing has panned out for me yet. But Orlando looks promising. If that doesn’t work out, maybe Felix Hart, that man I saw at the museum, knows someone. All I know is that I have to try now or I’ll always wonder.”
“And you’ll leave me and Eloise just like that?”
He pulled back, physically as well as emotionally. He straightened up, his legs tensing against hers. She struggled with how to proceed. She didn’t want to inflict further hurt on his damaged heart by leaving. She didn’t want to lose him, but they’d made no promises to each other. She refused to ask him to wait. That was selfish and silly. She hoped she could make him understand.
“I’ve danced professionally for a decade now. I’ve auditioned more times than I can count, but one of the early ones stands out against a sea of nearly empty auditoriums. I was seventeen, on a big audition, and for the first time, I didn’t make the cut.” She cringed at the memory of her own poor behavior afterwards, throwing a fit backstage and lashing out at her surroundings.
“Ranting, I was about to kick the wall when another dancer came over and pulled me away. I recognized her immediately. I’d seen her on stage when I was twelve. I idolized her. She took me out for a cup of coffee.
“There we sat, at opposite ends of the career spectrum, but she took me under her wing. She’d made the cut, but walked out of the audition. I asked her why and she said her heart told her it was time to step aside. She also told me she noticed my dancing and that I had a lot of potential — if I could channel my emotions. There would be too many times in my career where someone else chose if performed with his group or not. It’s the nature of the business. Getting upset gave someone else the power over me, over my career. To take control of my career, she advised listening to my heart. My heart says try. If I don’t follow it, I’m afraid I’ll fall back into blaming … others.
