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"Merry Christmas," I called as the customer left, and I returned to distributing the decorations. Papa had encouraged me this morning to do as I wished in adorning the shop. So gathering a handful of Brazilian pepper tree branches, I dropped them into a vase. Their bright, red berries shed considerable cheer.
A Christmas tune hummed from my lips as I moved the vase to the display. A second chime of the door's bell rang as I stood back.
"Well, you have some nerve." Marta shoved her finger under my nose. "He's miserable. I'll have you know."
I flicked my gaze to her face. "It goes both ways. He's the one who ran off."
"You musta ... you musta ... done somethin’," she accused.
Rolling my eyes, I adjusted the vase to the left. "I fell on my back and knocked the wind out after making a fool of myself. That's what I did." I resumed my decorating.
"Then explain to me why for the past three days he won't speak! He picks at his food, stares mindlessly at the wall, and it all began when he went shootin’ with you."
I lifted a pair of red candles from a box and laid them flat on the counter. My hand brushed a set of silver bells. "Why don't you let us deal with it?"
"Because you're not dealin’ with it and neither is he!" She crossed her arms, her eyes flashing.
I ignored her and went about my business. But she grabbed at a jar of potpourri in my hand, and it crashed to the floor, scattering over the tiles. "Look what you've done! I'll be forever cleaning that up," I fumed.
"Tell me what happened!"
I exploded. "He kissed me. All right? He kissed me. I liked it. He didn't. End of story."
Gaping at me, she opened and shut her mouth several times. I spun around and searched for the broom.
"How do ... How do you know he didn't?"
I crushed the broom's bristles against the floor, with violent strokes stirring the spill around.
"Angel?"
I paused, but didn't turn. "He left. Didn't he?"
She took the broom from me. "I'll clean it up. But let me say this; talk to him first. I've known Elias forever, and he only gets this way when somethin's botherin’ him. There's only two days 'til the dance. Come by after work. Please?"
I mused over her words. I hadn't spoken to anyone about what happened. Instead, I had convinced myself it didn't matter. I'd look forward to Christmas, I said. Brian and Steven were going to find a tree. On Christmas Day, Papa would read the story of Jesus’ birth, and it’d go back to how it was before Elias came.
Yet Marta's pleading eyes once again dug into me, and I sighed. "I'll come, but I make no promises on the results."
Elias leaned over the porch rail, nervously picking at the great feathery garland of red and green plaid ribbon swooping from post to post. He ought to look at her, but he couldn't bring himself to.
"I came to apologize," Angel said.
He glanced up at her then, his brows drawn together. "You don't have to apologize to me."
"I think I do." She smiled, and his gaze fell on her lips.
"But you didn't do anythin’."
"I led you on with my womanly powers."
Laughter spurted from his mouth, and a grin edged on his face. His gaze fell back to the ribbons. "I'm sorry I did that."
"You are? 'Cause I'm not."
He glanced back up, his face warm. "You're not?"
She shook her head. "No. In fact, I distinctly recall wantin’ you to do it again."
"You did?"
Her cheeks colored, and he swallowed. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across hers, lingering at the taste of her. "How was that?" he asked.
"That was ... that was ... Are you going to take me to the dance Saturday or not?"
He smiled. "Do you want me to?"
She smirked at him.
"So you do want me to," he corrected.
She nodded. "But first, you're going to tell me what's botherin’ you, and it wasn't just the kiss."
With a groan, he rubbed the sides of his head. "I'm such an idiot!"
"Wow! That seems harsh.”
He looked away. A couple walked their small dog down the sidewalk. "I promised myself I'd never tell anyone."
"I'll make a trade with you. You tell me your secret, and I'll tell you mine."
He stared at her for a second, imagining what kind of secret she could possibly have, and sucked in a great breath of air. "It's not what I did, but what I didn't do. I saw some fellows hurt a girl." He paused. "No, it was worse than that. They ... you know ..." He cleared his throat. "I wasn't involved, but I came on them and did nothin’ to help her."
The silence lengthened, and he clenched his teeth. "I guess you ... you hate me now."
But she wove her fingers into his, the heat of her fingertips radiating up his arm. "I admit that's pretty awful, but what matters is how you feel about it."
"Horrible," he said. "I feel horrible. I tried to tell her that, the girl, but she wouldn't talk to me." He couldn't blame her. He wouldn't have talked to him either.
"Mama used to tell me the hardest person to forgive is always yourself."
He gave a weak smile. "I think your mama was right."
"She usually was. Wanna know my secret?" The breeze lifted her hair, fanning it out behind her.
"Sure. If you wanna tell it."
"I made a promise to myself too. One I now can't keep."
"What's that?"
"I said I'd never fall in love."
His eyebrows rose. "And you can't keep that?"
"No. Brian told me I'd fail, and he was right."
He ran his free hand down her cheek. "Is that what this is?"
She closed her eyes, her voice descending to a whisper. "I hope so."