The Christmas Wedding Quilt: Let It Snow / You Better Watch Out / Nine Ladies Dancing. Sarah Mayberry
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He didn’t want to think about that. “So what would be on your Christmas tree back in California?”
“It varies. Last year I came home from work to a pale blue tree, kissing cousin to a toilet bowl brush, decorated with Japanese origami ornaments in gold and silver. Sophie had spent weeks folding them to surprise me. It was an homage to her ancestors.”
“Your mother is Japanese?”
“Not in this life. Three lives ago, I think.”
He heard a mixture of emotions in her voice. Humor. Love. Frustration. “Living with Sophie’s like living with a roller coaster, isn’t it?”
“These days it’s like being visited by one. And she’s better. I don’t see nearly as much of her. As odd as it might be, she’s making a life for herself.”
“Does she know where you are right now?”
“Not exactly. I needed a Sophie break. So tell me about all those books under your tree.”
He noted the neat change of subject. “Every year when we were growing up my sister and I got a new Christmas book. These days I get novels with Christmas in them somewhere, but I’ve kept every one of them. So has Kaye. We both put them out in December to remember those good years. Someday I want to do the same thing for my own children.”
She briefly rested her fingertips on his knee. “Brody, your father died some time ago, didn’t he?”
“His life was too short.” He hoped that would do.
“You must miss him.”
“Holidays are the worst.” He decided to take a chance. “I’m glad you’re here, Jo. You’ve brightened this one already.”
Neither of them said anything for a long moment, then she broke eye contact and looked back at the fire. “Think the coffee’s ready? I just take a little milk, if you have it.”
He returned a few minutes later to find her on the sofa looking through some of the books he’d stacked under the tree.
He set down the coffee and joined her.
“Do you have a favorite?” she asked, placing the books beside her.
“Probably The Gift of the Magi, by O. Henry. My mother used to read it to us every Christmas day, just in case we weren’t wild about a present or two. To remind us that whatever’s given in love is the best gift of all.” He grinned. “Even if it sucks.”
“I don’t remember the story.”
“It’s about a young couple, not so much as an extra penny to spend, but very much in love. Her one prized possession is her beautiful hair. His is a gold pocket watch that’s been passed down to him. Because she loves him so much she sells her hair to buy a watch chain for Christmas, and in turn, without knowing what she’s done, he sells his watch to buy her a comb for her beautiful hair. In the end, of course both gifts are useless.”
“But their love is absolutely clear.”
“Like the Magi, they gave their best.”
“It’s hopelessly romantic, don’t you think? Do you know anybody willing to give up so much for so little?”
“Love’s a powerful motivator.”
“I guess I haven’t seen the proof up close.”
She started to pick up her coffee, but he put his hand over hers, then he leaned forward and kissed her. Lightly. Sweetly. He took his time, and in a moment her lips softened under his and she sighed.
Heart pounding he finally pulled away. “If you were talking about us, we were awfully young, Jo. And we had so many strikes against us.”
“Is that what it was?”
“Were you really ready to settle down? When I told you that I wasn’t, you looked so relieved, I thought I’d made the right choice for both of us.”
She searched his eyes. “We were young,” she said at last.
“We aren’t that young anymore.”
“But we tried this once, and it wasn’t exactly a rip-roaring success.”
“We can take it a step at a time.” He smiled. “Baby steps.”
“I have a life and a job and a condo across the country.”
“And who knows what kind of Christmas tree is waiting for you this year? Neon? Goth? Are you really in a hurry to go back and find out?”
With an audible sigh she cupped his cheek, her fingers threading into his hair. “This is so crazy. We can’t just pick up where we left off, Brody. Ten years have gone by.”
“And I’ve missed you for every one of them.”
“You could have found me.”
He heard the hurt, and it tore at his heart. He almost blurted out the truth, that he’d had nothing to offer except poverty and death. But he didn’t want sympathy.
He wanted love.
“Can we just start over?” he asked. “Get to know each other? Have fun together? Will you stay through Christmas and spend it in Kanowa Lake?” He didn’t add “With me,” although that was perfectly clear.
He thought she was going to refuse, then she smiled, and her fingers burrowed deeper in his hair. “Friends, then, but just friends. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You get a real Christmas tree, and we decorate it together.”
“And if I put up a sprig of mistletoe?”
“You’re doing fine without it,” she said, right before she leaned forward to kiss him again.
CHAPTER SIX
From [email protected]: Sounds to me like you’re having quite the adventure at Hollymeade, Jo. Rachel and I are shivering through your emails, and they make me sorry we didn’t try harder to stay in touch all these years. I’m in the mood for an adventure, too, but I think I’ll take mine without all that snow. I’m practicing my appliqué stitches, by the way, in preparation for my border. Aunt Glo would have encouraging words to say, I’m sure. And she would also have reminded you to slow down and have a wonderful Christmas. So even though I’m the youngest cousin, I’ll do it for her.
JO WASN’T SURE how Christmas Eve had arrived so quickly. Ten days had passed since the potluck, and she and Brody had spent large chunks of each one together. While now she was working an hour each morning, she was still officially taking vacation time. She’d become skilled at cutting off her boss’s telephone rants by citing in boring detail the reasons why her presence wasn’t required until the New Year.
Sophie was even more of a challenge, but surprisingly her spirit guide agreed with Jo. Ocelot Lee had issued a decree that demanding attention from her daughter was not a step forward for Sophie’s personal growth. Sophie needed more time with him. Jo just hoped her stepfather was watching how much money was flowing to the medium who channeled ol’ Ocelot.
The moments with Brody were by far the best. She woke up every morning anxious to see him again. For a quiet little town in the frozen north, they had found plenty to do, especially after she bought a down jacket.
She was learning to cross-country ski, and for the first time since her childhood, she had strapped on ice skates and, with Brody’s help, taken her first tentative glides along the frozen lakeshore. They’d Christmas shopped together at the Trading Post, baked Christmas cookies for his friends, and added a couple of snow people to his collection so that now they had a fleet of carolers on his lawn.
Twice more they had unsuccessfully searched the Grants’ attic for the box with Eric’s baby things.