A Town Called Christmas

Merry pressed her lips together, but she caught Georgie’s eyes. They giggled.

“Silly,” Grace said with a bemused smile.

“I already caught Mom and Dad kissing on the staircase,” Skip informed them. “They didn’t even have the mistletoe.”

Mike straightened. “There’s mistletoe?”

“You rascal.” Charlie chuffed. “Look out, ladies! I know how these jet jocks operate.” He waved a finger at Mike. “Don’t even think about stealing a kiss from my pretty gal. You hear me, Grammadear? I’m giving orders. You’re to stay away from this one.”

Grace’s eyes shined behind her bifocals. “Oh, Charlie.”

“Uncle Mike can kiss Aunt Merry,” Georgie said.

“No, he can’t,” Skip corrected. “Because—” “No one’s kissing me,” Merry interrupted. She laughed awkwardly. “I’ve sworn off mistletoe for the duration.”

Mike studied her from across the table. “Got a boyfriend?”

She gathered silverware. “No.”

“She’s gonna be a single—”

“Skip. That’s quite enough, young man,” Grace interrupted smoothly despite the high color in her cheeks. “You and Georgie take the rest of the plates into the kitchen, please.”

“Knock first,” Charlie joked.

Merry couldn’t bring herself to stand, not when Mike was looking at her so closely. Curiosity was written across his face. She’d begun to believe that he hadn’t noticed what seemed so obvious to her—obvious and slightly embarrassing. She was her mother’s daughter.

“Woodstove needs stocking,” Charlie said with a harrumph. “Let’s go into the family room. We’ll get out those picture albums I mentioned.”

“Sounds good,” Merry said, making a motion to rise. Any distraction sounded good.

While Mike went to pull out her mother’s chair, Merry dropped her napkin and bustled about clearing the table before following the others toward the archway that opened to the family room.

Mike glanced back at her over the tops of her parents’ heads, silently signaling for a wingman.

She nodded, sympathetic to his plight. Although she’d rather head home, she couldn’t desert him, despite the likelihood that her brief fantasy of a Christmas romance was about to sputter and die like a neglected fire.

“I’ll be along in a minute,” she said. In all my glory.

She sighed. The warmth had been nice while it lasted.

MIKE STOOD WITH Meredith in the enclosed entryway of the farmhouse. The walls were paneled in knotty pine, with what seemed like a hundred family pictures hung in random configurations above the rows of coat hooks. While he held Merry’s coat out for her, his gaze skipped through the annual class pictures, following her from white-blond pixie haircuts and toothless grins to poufy marshmallow hair with lots of lip gloss. Apparently, she’d had no awkward teenage phase—only clear skin and a shining smile.

“Let me walk you home,” he said.

She pulled her hair free of the collar. “You don’t have to. It’s only a quarter mile down the driveway, then a short turn off the highway.”

“But it’s snowing. And dark.”

“I can manage.”

From the family room came the sounds of Charlie scraping ashes in the stove. A cabinet door closed and the lights went off in the kitchen. It was not even 9:00 p. m., but the Yorks were closing up the house for the night.

On their way upstairs, Nicky and Shannon stopped to glance into the entryway. “Good,” he said. “You’re walking her home.”

“Her?” Merry jammed the red knit hat down to the tips of her ears, which peeked through the strands of her hair. “She’s walking herself.”

“Meredith, don’t be stubborn.”

She looked at Nicky. Her lips twitched with a sassy retort left unsaid. From their many long talks aboard ship, Mike knew that the siblings had always been combative with each other, but it seemed that Merry wouldn’t argue tonight.

“All right,” she conceded. “You win. He can walk me home.”

“Take care of her like a brother,” Nicky said to Mike with a wink.

Merry made an inarticulate sound of frustration. “Argh.” She was shaking her head and smiling at the same time, a gesture similar to one Mike would direct at his own brother.

“You look like an elf,” he said when Nicky and Shannon had disappeared up the stairs. He couldn’t resist touching a finger to the pink curve of Merry’s exposed ear. “An aggravated elf.”

She rearranged her hair, brushing away his hand. “Are you saying I have big ears?”

“No, pointy ones.”

She fingered a lobe. “Really?”

“Maybe a little.” For a couple of seconds, he watched her fiddle, sliding the hoop earring through tender, pierced flesh. His breathing became shallow. The small gesture was unexpectedly intimate. Almost erotic.

He wanted to lick her lobe with his tongue. Brush away her hair and kiss the downy skin of her nape.

They’d sat on the couch for the past hour and a half, with Charlie between them. Whenever he’d gotten up to poke at the woodstove or sneak another Christmas cookie, one of the boys or even Grace had taken the empty place before Mike could slide closer. Sitting quietly among the chatter about family history and town happenings, Mike had been content with watching Merry. She’d contributed a few wry comments and hearty laughs; she had a wonderfully full, rich laugh that rang like a bell. But for the most part, she’d been subdued, not the bold older sister of Nicky’s stories.

Mike remained intrigued. Why was she holding back?

“I have to walk you home,” he said. “I need to stretch my legs.”

What he really needed was to walk through the falling snow, holding hands with a woman who didn’t quite make him forget his self-imposed isolation and the impending deployment, but who somehow seemed to give a more meaningful sense to it all. Perhaps he felt that way because his arrival in Christmas had revived his patriotic protectiveness for hometown America. Or maybe not.

What he knew for certain was that for now, for one quiet moment, he wanted to think only of Meredith and how good it would feel to be the man reflected in her bright eyes.

Her lashes lowered, then lifted, almost in slow motion. He thought he could hear the soft brush of them against her skin. Her lips parted. “Mike. I’m sorry about that—spending the evening on the couch with my parents, not able to get a word in edgewise. We’re all a bit overexcited about having Nicky home.”

“I enjoyed it.”

Her musical voice dropped an octave. “You don’t have to be polite with me.”

“No?” He moved closer.

Her eyes widened. “What I meant is…” She stopped and laughed with a slow chuckle that danced along the surface of his skin. He felt her nearness in every follicle and fingernail and heartbeat. “You know what I meant.”