Christmas Kiss is on Her List Page 7

  “Why not?” Louise seemed disappointed. “He was just your sort. You two would have made a lovely couple.”

  “Louise, you’re a dear but I don’t need your help with my love life. Mr. Andrews wasn’t my sort and, to be frank, I don’t want to be part of a ‘couple’. Been there, done that and I don’t want to do it again, thank you.”

  “Only trying to help.”

  ****

  Tom was at at his computer when he received a phone call. Martha could be very odd when the mood took her.

  “Tom, is that you?” Martha breathed down the phone, putting on her sexy voice. Tom grinned, this woman could be a lot of fun. He enjoyed their conversations and it beat sitting here working any day.

  “Martha, you’ve just phoned my office. Who else would it be?”

  “You might have an incredibly beautiful woman sitting on your lap for all I know,” Martha oozed. For a sixty-year-old lady, she had a very sexy voice when she tried, and boy, was she trying right now.

  “The only beautiful lady in my life is you,” Tom teased back, but that wasn’t the complete truth.

  He’d met Jane again and he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  Not to mention, Mr. Jeffers was taking up space in his briefcase because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him alone in a strange place.

  “Have you finished the report on yesterday’s visit yet?” she asked.

  “Not quite. I have a few questions,” Tom hesitated, an idea forming in his head. “I think I may have to go back to the school.”

  “Good idea,” Martha grinned. “The Principal just called to invite you to their Christmas concert. He thought you might enjoy it.”

  “Perfect,” Tom agreed. His eyes caught sight of a furry leg sticking out from his briefcase. “I can complete my report and have it ready for tomorrow morning.”

  It was only to return Mr. Jeffers to her care, but truth was he wanted to see Jane again.

  He’d slept badly and knew the furry toy wasn’t in the right home. For all he knew she might have a child of her own missing the teddy. He didn’t want to cause the same sadness in another child. Yes, he was going to see Jane and give her back the bear.

  “And just in case you’re wondering, Jane Stewart isn’t married any longer,” Martha added before she hung up.

  Chapter Five

  The hall was magical. - Glittery icicles hung from the high ceilings, and snowflakes - seemed to be suspended in air above the gathering audiences. The walls were covered with silvery paper, reflecting the twinkling light of the huge evergreen tree in the corner. Proud parents and grandparents filled up the rows of blue chairs in front of the stage. Mandy stuck her bright red head through the blue curtains eyeing the growing crowd, her bottom sticking out like a huge pudding.

  “Oh, you should see it out here,” she tittered, closing the curtain again as she turned to face Jane. “It’s filling up fast. I’ve never seen such a rush for seats.”

  Jane blushed.

  Mandy continued, “And why shouldn’t I say what everyone else is thinking? You’re the best teacher we have and the parents know it. You have such a wonderful way with the children and this concert is going to be great,” Mandy reached to touch Jane on her arm before rushing away to stop little Mikey from climbing into the crib. “Oh no, you don’t. That’s for the baby Jesus.”

  The singing was beautiful. Pure voices saturated the entire hall with joy and love as the small children sang their hearts out. Even with Mary dropping baby Jesus it didn’t mar the presentation. Jane and the children took four bows before the curtains closed and the children were ushered back to their classrooms to remove their costumes before they were damaged in the excitement.

  “Mrs. Stewart,” a familiar voice called her name.

  “Mr. Andrews.”

  “Can I talk to you in the staff room? And it’s Tom. Call me Tom.”

  “Tom it is, then,” she smiled.

  They walked down the hall, and he shut the door behind them after they entered the room.

  “Let me congratulate you on a fantastic show. That was the best performance I’ve seen this year.”

  “The children were wonderful,” Jane agreed, wondering why Tom’s hand was still on her arm- not that she was complaining.

  “I hear you were in charge of the entire thing, which speaks of true dedication.”

  Jane beamed; his praise meant a lot to her.

  “I wanted to …” Tom looked around for his briefcase. “Look, I’m sorry. I have to go back to the office, but I wondered... would you like to go out for a drink? Tonight?”

  She blinked in surprise, but answered, “Yes, I’d love to. It’s on me.”

  “I can’t let a pretty lady like you buy me drinks,” Tom blustered. “I have some things to finish off before the holidays but give me your number and I’ll phone you as soon as I’m done.”

  Jane wrote down her number on a slip of paper and then watched him go.

  Tom thinks I’m pretty? And he wants to go out... with me?

  “Jane, are you ok?” Louise paused to stand with her as they both watched the tall man climb into his car. Just wait until Martha heard about this.

  “I’m great,” Jane beamed “I’m just great.”

  Chapter Six

  The end of the day was too long in coming, the children were over -excited and there was little point in trying to calm them. Both Jane and Mandy were exhausted by the time the parents had collected them. Jane rushed out wondering what she was going to wear tonight for her date with Tim. She had anew red dress with the buttons down the front. It was a perfect fit and she hadn’t had the opportunity to wear it.

  Tom left a message to say he’d pick her up about seven.

  When the door rang just after six thirty she ran to the door and threw it open.

  “Going somewhere special.”

  “David? What are you doing here?” Jane spluttered at the sight of her ex- husband.

  “What kind of welcome is that for your husband?”

  “Ex- ex-husband. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here bearing gifts,” David stepped into the small flat, making it seem so much smaller with his height. A large bag hung suspended from one hand. “It’s the season to be friendly.”

  Jane followed him into her living room and groaned as he made himself comfortable on her- sofa, his large feet plonked on her glass coffee table.

  “I asked why you were here,” Jane asked again. “You can’t stay here, I’m going out.”

  “So I see. Is that a new dress? David barely lifted his head as he flicked through the channels looking for something interesting to watch. “Is it a date?”

  “I’m seeing an old friend. Why aren’t you with Sally?”

  “We had a bit of a falling out,” David waved a hand as if dismissing the thought of Sally from his mind.

  “You can’t stay here,” Jane muttered firmly a she retreated to her bedroom and shut the door.

  ****

  Tom knocked on the door. But, instead of Jane he found a stern-faced man.

  “I’m here to pick up Jane. I’m a little early,” Tom muttered, trying to peer around the man, looking for Jane, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  He came early because he couldn’t wait to take her out and tell her how he felt about her and how he’d never really forgotten her.

  “You’re here to pick up my wife?” David growled, his pale eyebrows gathering together.

  “Your wife? I thought…”

  “You thought wrong. Jane and I are together and you shouldn’t be here.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tom stuttered. “I obviously misunderstood, but if you could give this to Jane...”

  He handed her husband Mr. Jeffers wrapped up in shiny paper with a big red bow on the front. David nodded, too
k the present quickly and closed the door in Tom’s face.

  ****

  “Did I hear the door?” Jane asked and frowned at David’s presence in her kitchen,

  “Fancy a coffee?” David reached for the kettle and made the pretence of filling it from the tap.

  “No, I don’t want a coffee and I don’t want you here. Didn’t you get the message when you received the divorce papers?” Jane glared at David.

  “You’re looking good. You must have known I was coming.” David grinned.

  “If I knew you were you coming, I would have... moved!” she snapped. Anger boiled through her. “And now, I want you to leave.”

  “But what about us?”

  “There is no ‘us’. You destroyed us when you started seeing that woman-was it Sally, or was she only one of many?”

  Jane waited and waited, peering out at the window to look for Tom. By ten o’clock it was evident he wasn’t coming. No doubt, he’d thought better of it and she couldn’t really blame him. One failed marriage was hardly a striking endorsement for any new relationship.

  She hung the new dress back in the wardrobe, slowly running her fingers down the length of the tiny pearl buttons. She shook out her hair, wiped off her carefully applied make-up and moved slowly around to tidy up her flat. Placing her foot on the bin’s pedal to throw away a small bag of rubbish, she noticed the shiny bow on a present.

  “Mr. Jeffers!” Jane cried. She pulled the bear out of the bin and hugged the toy to her chest.

  Tom had been here; he’d brought Mr. Jeffers home. His carefully written note explained it all, but why hadn’t he come in?

  “Tom?” Jane dialled the number she’d been afraid to use before.

  “Jane, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were still married. I would never have…”

  “I’m not married. David is most definitely my ex-husband and I made sure he damn well knows it,” Jane stated firmly. “I didn’t know you’d been here. David didn’t say anything.”

  “I don’t want to get between...”

  “I wanted you here tonight. David was the one who needed to go.”

  Tom sighed at the other end of the line. “It’s a little late, but I know a decent Chinese and could pick something up.”

  “Sounds good to me. It will be just the three of us.”

  “Three?”

  “You, me, and Mr. Jeffers.”

  There was a pause before he said, “There’s a lot of things I wish I’d said to you over these years. I can’t seem to get you out of my head... and I’m not ten any longer.”

  Jane held the phone to her heart long after Tom hung up.

  All this time Mr. Jeffers was a keeper of their relationship... waiting for her and Tom to meet again.

  She cocked her head and looked at Mr. Jeffers. Had he planned her and Tom’s chance meeting? She swore Mr. Jeffers’s face changed and he was smiling from the end of the bed.

  Jane pulled her special dress out of the wardrobe and wiggled it back over her head.

  It was going to be a very special Christmas indeed.

  Rejoice: A Burden

  Elizabeth Inglee-Richards

  Rejoice: A Burden

  The last Sunday before Christmas found me sitting in a church in a Boston suburb waiting for my fiancée and her band to sing in front of the community, instead of being at home preparing for my last ice hockey game before Christmas. I’m sure some of the people in charge would say my actions showed a lack of commitment to the Nahant Nor’easter organization, but this gig was a big deal for the band. All of them had gone to the church as children and the five had grown up together. I didn’t know if the band so tight because of that or if something else made them close. It had taken me a few years before I stopped being jealous of the other men in my girl’s life, but I got over it eventually. I probably realized the relationships in the band were all platonic the same time I realized my girl’s name was Anna on my tongue. But in my mind, she would always be Branna, the crow.

  In the church every surface that could, held pine and holly decorations. There were flowers and incense and the air was thick with smoke from candles. The place smelled like a perfumer’s idea of Christmas. I knew it would, and had taken enough anti-histamine to tranquilize a bull before I came. Even with the pills, all the scents and smoke were too much for me. I rubbed my face and noticed as Branna’s grandmother looked at me hard.

  “You look like crap,” she whispered.

  “I got off a plane at one. I’ve only had a few hours of sleep,” I told her. It was true. Our team had played the night before in Georgia and we flew in late.

  “Don’t lie in church, Arttu,” my fiancé’s Maimeó said to me, “it isn’t nice.”

  I didn’t tell her this wasn’t my church. I sniffed and rubbed an eye. “All the pine.”

  “I always forget,” she patted my hand gently, “your allergies.”

  Everyone forgets. The allergies hit three times a year— fall, spring blooming and right at Christmas. For some reason, the Christmas allergies bother Branna’s family the most and they were bad that year. The team doctors said it was stress, and they had a point. I had been more reactive since the arena that the Nor’easters used was destroyed in a storm. Our ice and equipment had been trashed, the offices and everything else were gone as well. I was constantly worried that the team would be sold, moved or sold and moved. After the loss of our home ice, injuries and illnesses had run through the team. All of us were stressed out and upset and just weren’t handling the normal bumps, bruises and exhaustion well.

  We had a game that night—the last game before Christmas— and after the game we were scheduled to have a party. After the party, we’d get a few days off for Christmas.

  I looked forward to having a few days off. I’d thought about a short vacation, just Branna and I, but somehow I thought that sent the wrong message, and so we planned a nice low-key vacation of sleeping in our home.

  “Go home,” the old woman whispered, “take a nap before the game.”

  “After she sings,” I whispered back.

  “You hear her sing all the time.”

  “Not like this.”

  Branna’s band fell under the general heading of ‘Celtic Punk.’ Her songs were mostly loud versions of traditional music, but they played original pieces as well. Since she had met me, some songs about magic had crept into the band’s play list. I had introduced my fiancée to magic— real world magic. I had been using it all my life, but Branna’s family didn’t talk about the magic that ran in their veins. They were a good Catholic family.

  Branna and her four band mates stood to the side of the altar, just in front of the normal choir. The church fell quiet with everyone looking at the five. She had explained to me why she wore a pink dress and why the guys all wore purple ties, but it went in one ear and out the other.

  Branna is a small woman and the pink dress made her look even smaller somehow. She had tried to control her raven’s wing black hair, but when we pulled into the parking lot the gel she used no longer held it and it poked out in all directions. All that along with her white Irish skin gave her the look of a fairy that should be protecting a flower. When we went out together I could see people eying me, as though they thought that I would crush my girl. I was 6ʹ3ʺ a broad-shouldered blond hair, blue-eyed athlete. If she looked like a fairy, I looked like a giant. We may have looked like an odd couple but she and I clicked together like puzzle pieces when we first met. I thought maybe magic drew us together, but that bond turned to real trust and love very quickly. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

  When the church quieted, the four men began to sing:

  Gaudete, gaudete! Christus est natus

  Ex Maria virgine, gaudete!

  After that, the words were repeated with Branna’s voice lifting and falling and soaring over the ot
hers like a bird. She told me that this song about rejoicing at Christmas was called a burden. I remembered because I found it cool in an ironic sort of way. With her soaring voice, the force of her will hit me. It hit everyone in the church, but I doubted many realized magic had touched them.

  She was telling us to rejoice. Forcing your will on someone else has always been against the beliefs of modern pagans. Branna always says her music is more of a suggestion, an invitation to rejoice, not a command. I reminded myself that she wasn’t pagan; Branna grew up Catholic and wielded a huge amount of magical power. I grew up pagan, who wielded a lot less magical power, but I had more skill with it. I wished she wouldn’t blanket a crowd with whatever emotion she thought they should feel, but I loved her and I wouldn’t force her to stop doing something she thought of as harmless.

  As her voice touched me, I set aside my worries, even the worry about her forcing her will on people, and fully relaxed for the first time in months. When I glanced around the church it looked like the others in the nave had done the same. I caught a glimpse of my team captain, Shawn Murphy, head bowed and nodding in time to the old hymn. It was the first time I had seen him with his shoulders down and relaxed since our team’s world had been torn apart.

  As the song finished Branna’s grandmother sighed. “When she does this it leaves a mark on her soul.”

  “I thought you believed in confession,” I hissed at her.

  She shrugged and replied, “I thought that you only believed in gods that live in the forest, and don’t look much beyond your homeland, but here you sit.”

  I had never talked to any of the Flynns about not being Christian; Branna and I had decided early on that it wasn’t something we should share. After a few seconds I asked, “She told you?”

  “No, but I’m not blind,” the old woman said. She patted my shoulder, “Go home. Nap. I’ll bring our Anna home to you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, surprised as real relief surged through me.