Chapter 8
The few days remaining until Christmas passed slowly for Megan. Christmas itself had lost some of the wonder and magic it had once held for her. She could remember a few years ago, when early Christmas morning she and Natalie had raced down the stairs to catch a first glimpse of the tree with many presents displayed invitingly beneath its boughs. No matter how early the girls had arisen, their mother had always been up before them.
The lights on the tree would be glowing in the early morning winter darkness, and the girls would smell freshly baked cranberry bread. The sisters had hardly been able to contain themselves through the meal, knowing that there were hidden surprises waiting for them under the tree.
Best of all, there was always something unique hidden in the needles of the pine tree. Usually in a plain white box or a handwritten envelope, the special gift that Mom and Dad had planned all year long was the last one opened, after all of the gifts under the tree were gone. It was one last prize. One envelope had read “Bow Wow” and had contained a dog biscuit. That was the Christmas that Snow White, the funny little mutt of a puppy, had joined the family. Another Christmas, the envelope had said simply: “24 months or 500 miles, whichever is greater, WARRANTY.” That was the now old ten-speed bike. It was strange to think that, this Christmas, Megan didn’t feel any enthusiasm for the yearly ceremony.
Of course most of her restlessness was due to Chris.
It had been over two days since their date, and he hadn’t called her. And she wasn’t going to phone him. At least not right away. And, though she hated to admit it, her mother was right; the house did seem bigger and lonelier without Natalie. Megan didn’t even want to think about Adam. Of course, Megan hadn’t seen him since the wedding. Except for a quick e-mail from Natalie, no one in the family had heard from them. It was weird, really.
On Christmas morning Megan woke up feeling empty. Even the enticing scent of her mother’s baking couldn’t lure her down the stairs.
A lot of her ennui could be attributed to Chris, she supposed. She liked him; she liked him a lot. Not with the same deep feeling that she had felt for Adam, of course, but she did definitely think about Chris, which kind of pissed her off.
Then there was the other little irritation. Ken had called Leslie. He had even gone over to her house once since the sleigh ride. They seemed to be a couple already, and after less than a week Leslie was sure that she was falling in love with him.
As if! In love? After a single date? Leslie had always been a dreamer, but this time she had really gone off the deep end, and that pissed off Megan as well.
It was as if the whole world had conspired against her. And it had all started with Natalie’s wedding. Yeah, Megan was in a bad mood, a real bad mood.
On Christmas morning.
Terrific!
Finally, Megan forced herself to get up. She threw on a short skirt and a sweater, then brushed out her hair and attempted a bit of makeup. She stared at her reflection in the mirror critically. She was far from gorgeous like her sister, but she was okay—kind of. She played around with eye shadow and mascara and then gave up. She was a nerd, a “braniac” as Natalie had often referred to her. Despite her gray eyes and high cheek bones and thick hair, she was still “the girl most likely to run a major company by thirty.”
Ugh.
Aunt Janice came over and, though everyone in the family tried to keep up their spirits, everything seemed off. Even Mom’s Christmas turkey tasted bland.
Later, after dinner and when Aunt Janice had gone home, Megan was clearing the table when the telephone rang. “I’ll get it,” she shouted. Maybe it was Chris.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi, Meg! It’s . . . so good . . . to hear your voice,” Natalie said at the other end of the line. She was actually blubbering, sobbing into the phone.
“Nat! Are you crying? What’s wrong? Is Adam all right?” Megan’s thoughts leapt instantly to pictures of instant disasters—boating, swimming, scuba-diving accidents. What could have happened?
“No . . . no . . . Adam, I mean we’re both fine. It’s just that it’s Christmas and I miss all of you so terribly.” Natalie sniffed loudly. “How—how are you? How was Christ—Christmas?”
Megan imagined her sister dabbing a finger under her eyelids to swipe at the mascara running down her cheeks. “It was okay, but, you know, different. Without you.”
“It’s Natalie?” Mom said, waterworks flowing from her eyes, too, as she waved frantically to get the phone. “It’s Nat,” she said to her husband. “Get on the extension.”
Another round of sobs from Natalie.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” Megan said, and handed the phone to her mother, who clutched the receiver in two hands.
“Merry Christmas, honey!” Carol Simmons said to her daughter who was, Megan knew, in the Bahamas. With Adam. And Natalie was crying? Homesick on her honeymoon? Well, it was Christmas, but Natalie had known that when they’d set their wedding date so close to the end of the year. Though Megan missed her, she didn’t feel sorry for her older sister in the Bahamas with Adam. Megan pictured the two of them laughing in the sun as they ran in the sand. Their bodies were tanned and sleek, foamy waves chasing them. Megan imagined Adam chasing her sister, catching her and kissing her as they fell into the sand, still embracing as the tide rolled around them.
No, Natalie with Adam in paradise should not have been crying.
When the doorbell pealed, Megan, the only member of the family not on the phone, answered the door.
Chris was standing on the porch, his hair a little wet from melting snowflakes, his face ruddy from the cold. Stupidly, her heart soared a bit.
“Hey,” he said, appearing uncomfortable.
“Hi,” Megan responded, and then added, without thinking, “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t really know,” he said. “It seemed like a good idea to show up and say, ‘Merry Christmas,’ but now I kinda feel like a dweeb.”
She laughed and stepped onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her. “You’re definitely not a ‘dweeb.’ Merry Christmas.”
Relief washed over his features, and she noticed just how good-looking he was with his hair mussed and a bit of embarrassment still clinging to him.
“Come in,” she said, then, glancing up at the sprig of mistletoe her father had tacked over the porch, kissed his cheek. “Payback,” she said, pointing up.
His grin widened.
“Gotcha!” she said, realizing she was actually flirting with him as she led him into the house. In the kitchen her mother, a tissue pressed under her eyes, was just hanging up the phone. “Sorry, I . . . didn’t hear you come in,” she said. “I was just talking to Natalie and Adam.”
“Adam was on the phone, too?” Megan asked, and her heart dropped. She’d missed a chance to talk to him!
“Yes, Meg. Oh! He told me to give you his love.”
She felt as if a thunderbolt had struck her. His LOVE. Oh. God. Then she blinked and realized it was just an expression, a greeting from her new brother-in-law. Still . . .
“He also wished you good luck with the debating team. You know your father,” her mother said with a roll of her expressive eyes. “He brought it up again!
Megan cringed. “I wish he wouldn’t. I’m not . . . I’m not sure that I’m even going to try out.” Now who sounded like a “dweeb”?
“Of course you are,” her father, hearing the tail end of the conversation, said. He nodded at Chris and placed a hand on Megan’s shoulder. “You’re the one who said you wanted to become a lawyer, right?”
Megan wanted to wither through the floor even though it was kinda cool that her father was so proud of her. Inwardly she wondered if he, a little disappointed that Natalie had decided to marry so young, had turned all of his own ambitions toward his youngest. Megan had heard it whispered that at one time he, too, had hoped to become an attorney. Until he’d gotten married in a rush as Natalie was on the way. No one had ever admitted it, of course, but Megan had done the math and didn’t buy the whole “premature” thing, as Natalie had been born at over seven pounds with a full head of hair.
Besides, it wasn’t that Megan had changed her dreams; it was just that she wasn’t sure she was ready to share all her deep, dark desires with Chris just yet. “Maybe a lawyer,” she admitted, and her father scowled.
“Never give up on your dreams, Meg. Never.”
Her parents exchanged glances that held stories Megan couldn’t hope to understand, and her mother reached for her pack of Virginia Slims sitting on the counter.
“No ‘maybe’ about college or law school!” her dad insisted. Then, a little more calmly, he added to Chris, “Megan here is the top of her class. Straight A’s all through high school. Colleges already interested.” He was actually beaming. Once more, Megan wanted to die. This attitude was beginning to be a habit, but her mother, shaking out a long cigarette, came to her rescue. “Jim, stop it.” Then, as she found her lighter, Carol Simmons added, “Don’t listen to your father’s blustering, Meg. You know how he is—every once in a while he gets up on his soapbox and gives all of us the benefit of his years of wisdom. You go out for the team if you want to, but don’t you feel that you’re pushed into it! And, as for you”—she scowled in her husband’s direction—“why don’t you go put some more logs on the fire in the study? Or . . . something?” With that she slipped on a thick sweater and stepped onto the patio, where she lit up.
Later, after a few hours of television and leftovers, her parents finally went upstairs to bed.
When her parents had left the room, and their soft footsteps echoed from upstairs, Chris turned to her and winked. “Alone at last!”
For the first time that day, Megan was a little nervous. She had never been alone with him really, and that wasn’t the only problem. Even at seventeen she’d rarely gone out on a date alone with a boy; she’d mainly hung out with a group of friends.
So now, on the couch, the television flickering and the fire dying, she felt a little awkward. When Chris leaned in to kiss her, she closed her eyes and felt his lips touch hers tentatively at first and then a little harder. A warmth spread through her blood, turning her bones liquid, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back.
So this is how it feels, she thought as he held her close and she heard her own blood rushing in her ears. The world seemed to spin, to shine, and she wondered about letting go, touching him, feeling his body closer still.
A floorboard creaked overhead, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She pushed him back and, breathing with a little difficulty, shook her head. “This . . . this isn’t smart.”
“Nothing happened,” he said, but his eyes had darkened, and she knew he’d felt that same adrenaline rush as she had. His own breathing was ragged, his lips swollen, and she swallowed hard just thinking of the feel of his mouth upon hers.
“I know, I know, but . . . you know, Mom and Dad are just upstairs.”
“We could go somewhere.”
“No.” She couldn’t leave; her parents would have a fit. She wanted to kiss him again, to let him touch her, to let that wild child within her rise up and experience all there was to life, to step across those unwritten lines, to reach out, to live a little and . . . oh, God, no! She slammed that door shut, put that wayward imp back into a dark corner of her mind. This was happening much too fast. Thinking of doing more than just kissing Chris was a mistake. It was just way too soon.
“It’s Adam, isn’t it?” he said suddenly, and her head snapped up.
“Adam?” Her gaze found his, and she saw a bit of pain in the blue depths of his eyes. “I mean, why would you think that—”
“Because you’re in love with him.”
The accusation seemed to hang in the air between them, a dark, nasty idea, but the raw, unaltered truth.
“No.” She shook her head, her tongue nearly tripping on the lie. “Adam? He’s . . . he’s Natalie’s husband.” Even now the word was hard to say and seemed to stick in her throat.
“Leslie said something to Ken.”
Megan closed her eyes and wanted to strangle her friend. “About Adam and me?”
“About your fantasizing about him.”
“I don’t . . .” She started to argue, but let the words die away.
“About your thinking you’re in love with him.” Chris sighed. “And I saw it at the wedding. There you were, this beautiful girl with a fake smile and sad eyes. You couldn’t give me, or anyone but Adam, the time of day. It pissed me off.”
She felt suddenly miserable. How many people had noticed? Her mom, Natalie, maybe even Adam himself! Just the thought of it made her uncomfortable.
“So,” he said, reaching for her hand and linking his fingers through hers, “I did something a little mean.”
“What?” she asked, intrigued, and she saw a muscle work in his jaw.
“I decided to teach you a lesson.”
“A lesson?” she repeated as she was beginning to understand. The kiss under the mistletoe. Oh, God, it had been some kind of backhanded joke?
“But, of course, it backfired. I kissed you and . . . Wow.” He actually blushed. “It was crazy-good. And there we were in front of everyone. It was stupid.”
She shook her head. “No, Chris. It was wonderful.”
“Yeah, well, I thought so, too, and so instead of teaching you a lesson, it taught me one.”
His self-deprecating smile was absolutely the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.
“So what about Adam?” he said.
“He’s my brother-in-law. And yeah, I did have this whole fantasy thing going with him. An older guy, I guess.”
“Is it over?”
Was it? She didn’t really know, but she wasn’t about to spoil this moment, so she lied, right then and there, staring into his worried eyes, touching his cheek with the tips of her fingers. “Of course it is, silly. Otherwise would I be here on this couch with you wondering how I could get you to kiss me again?”
“That’s the easy part,” he said, and kissed her just as she heard her father’s heavy tread on the stairs. He lifted his head and swung to his feet. “I’ll call you,” he promised, and left as suddenly as he’d shown up on her doorstep.
From the window she watched him drive away, her gaze following the taillights of his car as it disappeared through a curtain of snow, the cat winding herself between Megan’s ankles while Megan wondered if she could really ever give up dreaming of her sister’s husband. God, she was a fool. And Chris? She sighed inwardly and wished she could kiss him one more time. Maybe then she wouldn’t be lying when she said she wasn’t in love with Adam.