The dog stood up and made his way toward the back door.
“Hey,” Mike protested. “I thought you liked french fries.”
Gus climbed the steps and began scratching at the door.
“All right, cool it.” Mike hurried over to the back door and opened it.
Gus took a couple of steps in, then stopped to look back, his long body straddling the threshold.
“Nah.” Mike shook his head. “It wouldn’t be a good idea. I don’t think anyone would be comfortable if I ate at home.”
Mike closed the door behind him and started to trudge down the drive. It was snowing harder. He had to admit it would have been nice to go into a nice warm kitchen and help Casey whip up some dinner.
But Mike knew that would not have been a good idea. There was too much warmth in that big old kitchen with the linoleum floor and yellow cabinets. The only thing that would happen if he went in there was someone would get burned—most likely him.
Pulling his collar up against the cold, Mike shuffled toward downtown. He sure hoped the special at the diner wasn’t the same as yesterday’s and the day before. Damn, but he hated meat loaf.
Chapter Seven
“No, that’s silly, Dad,” Casey said, sitting on the bottom step as she spoke into the portable phone. “I’ll be home next week for Christmas. We can celebrate my birthday then.”
“You hate celebrating it at the same time as Christmas. It’s almost lunchtime. If we leave now, Val and I can be there by dinnertime to take you out.”
“I really appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary,” Casey repeated. She wasn’t sure how she felt about her birthday anymore, anyway, not since she’d found that newspaper article. Her feelings were all jumbled up and she hadn’t found a way to untangle them.
She heard her stepmother’s voice in the background, then her father came back on the line. “Val says you probably have a hot date and I should stop trying to horn in on your time.”
Casey laughed. “You never horn in on my time,” she assured him. “I love being with you and Val, but I don’t want you to come up. It’s been snowing here since yesterday afternoon and the driving is terrible.”
“So you don’t have a hot date.” She could feel his frown over the telephone lines. “How come someone as pretty and nice as you are hasn’t found the right guy?”
“Dad, I don’t need a guy in my life to be happy.”
“You aren’t serious about that Melvin guy, are you?”
Why was everyone picking on poor Melvin? “Dad! There’s nothing wrong with Melvin.” She was glad Mike was outside shoveling the drive again, though maybe the mention of Melvin would get him speaking to her once more. “He’s very nice.”
“He’s not the type of guy you need.”
She just closed her eyes and sighed. They’d had this conversation more times than she could remember. Not just about Melvin, but about every guy she’d ever been friends with.
“You need somebody strong who’ll take care of you,” her father continued. “Not somebody you need to take care of.”
She heard the back door open and the sound of Mike stomping the snow from his boots. Gus dashed over to her, shaking the snow from his body so that she could experience a snowfall herself.
She just smiled at the pooch and scratched his head. “I need to get back to work, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.”
“You promise you’ll do something fun tonight?”
“I promise.” She stood up, releasing the connection as she did so.
“Casey?”
She nearly jumped at the sound of Mike’s voice, but turned slowly as if she hadn’t. He was in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know you were on the phone.”
“Not anymore,” she said. “I just got off.”
“You have some mail,” he said, and brought a few envelopes over to the table.
She made a face at them. “Birthday cards, most likely,” she said.
“Is it today?” he asked. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.”
“You look too young to be avoiding them,” he said.
She didn’t want to get into her feelings about her birthday. If she hadn’t shared them with her family, she wasn’t going to share them with a relative stranger.
“It’s hard having a birthday so close to Christmas,” she said.
He just looked at her for a long moment. “I was going to make myself a cup of tea. Want some?”
She was more than surprised by his offer; she was stunned. But she just nodded. “Sure. It’s time for a break.”
“Regular tea okay? I don’t think I have anything herbal.”
“Regular is great,” she replied.
While he put the water on the stove, she got two mugs out of the cabinet, then they stood in silence and watched the years pass until the teakettle began to whistle. It had been so long since they’d talked, she didn’t seem to know how to start. Finally, the water was boiling and they took their mugs to the table. Casey sat down with hers and started opening her birthday cards.
“Birthdays start you thinking about your birth parents, don’t they?” Mike said.
Casey took her time reading a humorous card from her grandmother—time she used to compose an answer. She put the card down with what she hoped was a believable smile. “Yeah, it does. Guess it’s only normal.”
“Even more so if you feel you have questions unanswered,” he said.
“Do you?”
He shook his head. “Not really. Stephen answered most of them for me. I was lucky.”
“Yeah.”
Not knowing what else to say, she opened another card. It was from her twin brothers, who claimed they were on such a tight budget that they could only afford one card. She had to smile at that, knowing their budget included such big-ticket items as dates every night, car expenses and the right clothes. Her dad liked to laugh and say they were just like he’d been at that age. Casey put down the card.
“You ever wonder who you got certain traits from?” she asked.
Mike just shrugged. “Can’t say that I have, not having very many unusual traits, if any.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I’m serious.” He sipped at his tea, then stared off in space. “I can’t sing. My artistic endeavors would be graded as mediocre. I was a reasonable athlete—along with about half of my high-school class. Nope, nothing remarkable about me.”
“You’re brave,” she said.
He frowned at her.
“Dubber told me about you saving those kids. That’s pretty remarkable.”
“No, that was a stroke of good luck. I just happened to be passing when the car crashed.”
“But you risked you life for them. Not everybody else would have.”
“Lots of people would have. I was just the one on the scene.”
“Was their mother there?” Casey asked.
He nodded. “She was thrown from the wreck, but was trying to get back into the car when it started on fire, of course.”
“Of course.” Casey kept the bitterness from her voice. “What kind of mother wouldn’t want to save her children?”
Mike gave her a strange look that said she hadn’t been quite as successful as she’d thought. “There’s more to this birthday business than normal reflecting, isn’t there?”
“No,” she said. “You’re reading much more into it than is there.”
He watched her for a long silent moment, skepticism in his eyes. “So where do you want to go for lunch?” he asked.
“Lunch?” She’d reached for another card, but stopped. “I thought we were giving each other space.”
“We are, but birthdays are the exception,” he said. “Today’s supposed to be my day off, but with heavy snow like we’re getting, we usually all get called in. So I can’t promise you dinner, but we can do lunch.”
“But it’s awful out,” she protested, even
as her heart told her to accept. “Why don’t I just make something?”
“Oh no, you don’t,” he said, and pulled her to her feet. “Get your boots on, young lady. We’re walking downtown to the Daybreak Café for a birthday lunch.”
She ignored the rush of wonder that his hands on hers caused, or the giddy light-headedness that came from his smile. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“Would you just get your boots on? I’m hungry!”
She laughed and went into the mudroom to slip into her boots. All right, so they were talking again. And doing things together. All it meant was that they were both lonely and wanted some companionship. The basic rules hadn’t changed.
And wouldn’t.
They turned out to be the only customers at the Daybreak Café and were ushered in like royalty. Mike led Casey over to a corner booth. The walk had brought a rosy glow to her cheeks and seemed to have chased the shadow from her eyes.
He was glad; she’d looked so troubled earlier. Even though he’d vowed to keep away from her, he couldn’t just pretend he hadn’t seen that pain in her eyes. He had no idea what she needed, but he was sure it wasn’t to be left alone. Stan, the café’s owner, brought out cups of steaming hot chocolate and promised big bowls of the chef’s special chili.
“And figure out something great for dessert,” Mike told him. “It’s Casey’s birthday.”
“Her birthday?” Stan’s eyes grew round. “I know just the thing.” And he hurried off.
“You shouldn’t have told him that,” Casey protested. “I don’t want a fuss made.”
“Sure you do,” Mike said. “Everyone wants to be fussed over on their birthdays.”
“Oh?” she said. “And when is yours?”
That wasn’t what he’d intended. He didn’t care for birthdays or holidays. “Doesn’t matter,” he said quickly. “You’ll be long gone by that time.”
The sudden dose of his own reality set him back on his heels slightly. It was true; she was only here temporarily. But somehow reminding himself of it took the warmth from their outing. He stared out the window, watching the snow fall and thinking how different the street looked from little over a week ago, when it had been filled with laughing people and a lively little parade. Now it was snowy and deserted. It was like his life—filled with laughter and nonsense one minute, lonely the next. Mike shook his head and took a big drink of his hot chocolate. What was wrong with him?
“So when are you putting up your Christmas tree?” Casey asked. “You’ve got to be the last person in town without one.”
Mike made a face. How did she always know just what he didn’t want to discuss? “I don’t put one up.”
“You have to,” she said. “An old house like Myrna’s, one with so much history, just calls for a big tree.”
“It’s crazy to do it just for me,” he said.
“It’s not just for you. It’s for Gus, too.”
“Single people living alone don’t have Christmas trees.”
“I do.”
He just looked at her, then sighed. She was like Gus with a bone, worrying it to death. “Does Melvin?” he asked. “No, don’t tell me. Of course he does.”
“Actually, he doesn’t,” she said. “But he has an excuse. He has allergies.”
Allergies? What a crock! And she was letting him get away with that? “What’s he allergic to—green?” Mike snapped. “He can get a fake tree if he’s allergic to real, and real if he’s allergic to plastic.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“No? He’s allergic to ornaments? How about lights? Or maybe the music?”
She gave him a pointed look. “We were talking about you and how you’ve put your good times on hold just because you aren’t sharing them with a partner.”
“We were talking about Melvin’s lies,” he corrected.
“Don’t try to change the subject.”
But then the chili came, and he chose instead to dig into the big, steaming, aromatic bowl of liquid fire. She just didn’t want to talk about Melvin because she knew she’d lose that battle, so she was trying to attack him and his way of life. It wasn’t going to work, though.
But as he ate the chili and let the spicy meal warm every inch of him and then some, Casey’s words played over and over again through his head. He hadn’t put his life on hold, had he? He’d decided after Darcy not to ever marry, so there was no tomorrow to save things for. But was he doing it anyway, subconsciously waiting for an event that would never happen? He was living in a rented house, but that was no big deal. He hadn’t had a serious relationship since Darcy, but that was no big deal, either. Neither was not having a Christmas tree. Or matched dishes or towels. None of it meant a thing.
This all just boiled down to the fact that Casey wanted a Christmas tree. Something Melvin apparently couldn’t give her, but something Mike certainly could. Chalk one up for Mr. March.
“If you want a tree, we could have one. You will still be here then, won’t you?” He suddenly realized he had no idea what her plans were. She seemed so much a part of the household so quickly, he couldn’t imagine her not there.
“Well, I was going home for Christmas,” she said. “But only for a few days. Then I’ll be back.”
“So is it worth getting a tree?” he asked. “You should’ve said something sooner.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t stopped talking to me, I would have.”
“I didn’t stop talking to you. I just rationed the number of words I said.”
“Rationed?” She laughed. “How many was I allowed a day? Ten? Fifteen?”
He stiffened slightly. It wasn’t like that at all. Hadn’t she felt the fire between them? Hadn’t she realized the danger? “You don’t understand.”
She just shook her head and reached across the table for his hand. “You’re right, I don’t,” she admitted, giving his fingers a squeeze, then letting them go. “I have no idea why we struck sparks those few times. It took me by surprise, too, and for a while I didn’t know how to react.”
Her hand had left warmth on his, a slow fire that continued to burn. “And you do now?”
“Sure. I act as if it didn’t happen.”
His eyes seemed caught on her lips, as he remembered their taste and softness. He forced his gaze down, carefully watching his food as he ate. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Then you act as if it did,” she said. “It’s not like it has to happen again.”
“No, I guess it doesn’t,” he said slowly. Cautiously.
“We can eat together. Share chores. Watch TV together,” she said. “And just be careful. We are adults, after all. It’s not like something’s going to take over our minds and have us do something we don’t want to do.”
It wasn’t his mind he was worried about. “You and Melvin have that much control over everything you do?”
She sighed and visibly counted to ten. “Melvin is offlimits,” she said carefully. “I am tired of talking about him.”
So dump the jerk, Mike thought, but didn’t say the words. “Fine,” he snapped.
“Are you ready for dessert?” Stan asked, appearing at their table to pick up the empty chili bowls.
What Mike wasn’t ready for was the end of his Melvin discussion with Casey, but he just nodded at Stan, who in turn waved to someone in the kitchen, who brought out a huge ice-cream sundae. Chocolate, cherries and whipped cream covered what had to be a small mountain of ice cream.
“I’m not supposed to eat all this, am I?” Casey groaned, as the concoction was put on the table between them.
“Of course not,” the man assured her, whipping out two spoons. “The Matterhorn’s a two-person sundae. It’s to share. You can depend on Mike here to help you.”
“Thank goodness,” Casey said, and took her spoon. She grinned across the table at Mike. “It’s good to have a man I can depend on.”
He wanted to ask if Melvin would have been able to eat his share, but he didn’t. H
e was learning that Casey didn’t want to hear the truth about the wonderful Melvin. “I’m here as long as you need me,” Mike told her.
“Or as long as the ice cream lasts.”
But that could still be a hell of a lot longer than someone else.
“So where’s Casey and Gus? They go for a walk?” Mike asked the cats. They were sitting on a kitchen stool, staring at him as he finished the peanut butter sandwich that was supposed to fill all the empty spots the last twenty-four hours’ sporadic meals had left.
He’d been called in yesterday afternoon, just as he’d expected, and had worked until after lunch today. Snow always made a mess of traffic on the highways and state roads, yet half the drivers seemed not to realize they had to drive with extra caution.
“I wrote out so many accident reports I could do it in my sleep, which was what I was just about doing at the end,” he told them, then grimaced. “Man, I don’t know what’s the matter with me lately. If somebody had ever told me I’d be talking to a pair of cats, I would have arrested them for being drunk and disorderly.”
The white cat yawned, while the dark one checked out the kitchen window. Mike had gotten in about half an hour ago, changed into jeans and a sweater and made himself something to eat. Even though he was exhausted, he couldn’t seem to relax. He probably needed to know Casey was okay before his eyes would close.
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you guys to smile a little. Maybe even wag your tail a couple or three times.”
They jumped down onto the floor and ambled out of the kitchen without even a tail flick as the back door opened. Casey came in, stamping the snow off her boots. Her cheeks were rosy; her smile brought new life, new energy, to his weary bones. She took off her stocking cap and shook her glorious red hair free. He wasn’t nearly as tired as he’d thought.
“You just get in?” she asked as she took off her coat. “You look beat.”
Gus gave him a quick sniff, then hurried into the living room. “I’m fine,” Mike said stiffly, and looked out the kitchen window. Why was she always harping on how bad he looked? It was enough to give a guy a complex. “Where’s Dubber? If he’s not going to shovel the drive, I’d better get out there and do it.”
Christmas Magic Page 11
