Susan Wiggs - Candlelight Christmas

“Better not cry,” she said.

Then he raised himself above her and held her hands up over her head, sinking down with exquisite timing. “Santa Claus is coming tonight,” he whispered.

Time slipped away, the minutes uncounted as they lost themselves in making love. Darcy felt dazed by the storm of pleasure, and in the aftermath, the silence was deep, broken only by their satisfied, tandem breathing. His long, muscular body curved around hers, unfamiliar and exciting.

Her life seemed to be taking an unanticipated turn. She thought she’d come here simply to survive the holidays away from her family. And now here she was with this new thing happening to her. This...romance. Really, there was no other word for it. She was swept into a lovely swirl of emotion, one that freed her heart and filled her with joy, gently unspooling the tension she’d been holding on to from the past. He turned his head and gently kissed her temple. “That was nice,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said. “But there’s something I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“This is supposed to be awkward,” she said. “We’re new, it’s our first time, so...why isn’t this awkward?”

“Because it’s the real thing. It’s not awkward, because it’s real.”

“How do you know that? We barely know each other.”

“I know stuff.” He laughed softly. “I’m smarter than I look.”

“What stuff?” she asked. “I mean, you’re the first man I’ve wanted to make love to since my marriage. If you’re so smart, you’d realize this is probably rebound sex.”

“As opposed to what?”

“The kind of sex you have when you realize you’re over your failed marriage and you’re ready to move on, and you find someone you click with and you realize you’re not reacting to the past but to right now.”

“I think you just answered your own question.” He trailed his finger along her jawline, then down over her shoulder. “This is not a rebound,” he said.

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Because I’m not letting you go.”

Her heart surged with excitement. Happiness. She wished the feeling could go on forever.

And this was unfortunate, because she could not see a way for the situation to sort itself out in the long term. Logan was incredible, but there was a red flag as big and bright as the cape of a matador. He claimed he wanted—he needed—a woman who wanted children, not just Charlie but babies, too. She couldn’t promise him that. It just felt too risky, too fraught with pitfalls. She wasn’t ready now and couldn’t be certain she’d ever be.

“There are things you don’t know about me,” she confessed. “Things that would make a big difference in the way you feel. Things that would tell you that this might not be the right move for either of us.”

“There’s plenty we don’t know about each other, but it’s only a matter of time. I plan to learn everything about you. I’m going to know what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. I’m going to know what makes you mad and what makes you sad. I’m going to learn all about you. And you’re going to love every minute of it. Oh, and you’re going to learn everything about me, too.”

“You sound very sure of yourself.”

“Because I am sure. And the more you know me, the more you’re going to love me.”

That word. Love. Although her feelings for him were all brand new, she could not convince herself that he was wrong. “You seem to know a lot about us. Do you have a crystal ball?”

“I know what I know.” He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her, serious now. In the faint glow of the Christmas lights and the flickering candle flame, his eyes looked deep and intense. “I know what my heart’s telling me to do. It’s telling me to love you. It’s telling me to take you in my arms and never let you go.”

A flurry of alarm fluttered in her chest. “But we want such different things. I can never be the person you want me to be.”

“Darcy. You already are that person.”

“You’re wrong. I’m not. And I never can be.” She suddenly felt overwhelmed by his certainty, by the power in his eyes. She could never live up to what he wanted from her. She could never be the mother he wanted for Charlie, couldn’t imagine having his children.

She’d said it a hundred times. She didn’t want children. And she was scared. She had emerged from the demise of her marriage more or less intact, but also firmly resolved to be smarter, going forward. She was too young, too hopeful to declare she’d never fall in love again. But now she was wise enough to know that if and when she did, she would do so cautiously, not leaping into something the way she’d just...leaped.

“Why are you so afraid of finding happiness?”

“Because it doesn’t last, and it’s awful when you lose it.”

“You’re not going to lose it. When the right thing comes along, it’s just going to grow and deepen and get stronger every day, every year until the end of time.”

He was a hopeless romantic. She wished she could be that, too, wished she could surrender and not see all the obstacles in the way.

But she couldn’t. It was too hard for her. Too scary. She needed time, time to think. Time to see if there was any truth in what he was telling her.

“It’s almost Christmas,” she said. “Can we just agree to enjoy the holidays?”

“And then?”

“And then I have to go home.”

“To the sock warehouse,” he said.

“Hey. Don’t judge. I searched high and low for my place in the city.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I searched high and low for you.”

At some point in the dead of night, the power went out. Logan awakened to chilly darkness, and found himself lying in an empty bed. The Christmas lights were dark and colorless, and the big candle on the dresser had burned down to a puddle of white wax. If it was not for warm memories swirling through him, he might have thought he’d dreamed the night with Darcy.

He jumped out of bed, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and thick socks and went downstairs. His breath created frozen clouds. The Christmas tree looked sad and neglected, standing there in the weak light through the window. In the aftermath of the blizzard, the light in the great room was stark from the deep blanket of snow. Over at the resort, the emergency generator chugged with a distant hum.

Working quickly, he made a fire. A big one. But it would take more than that to chase away the chill in the air. Suddenly his perfect Christmas wasn’t looking so perfect.

His father came into the room, unshaven and bundled up against the frigid weather. “Bad luck on the power,” he said.

“Yeah.” Logan braced himself, expecting an I-told-you-so and a reminder that they could be enjoying the Florida sunshine today. But the diatribe never came. Al stood in front of the fire, slapping his palms together.

“So much for hot cinnamon buns and coffee this morning,” Logan said. “And unless the power company gets right on it, I’m not so sure about Mom’s baked ham and all the trimmings.” He glared at the dead-looking tree. “There’s something totally depressing about an unlit tree by daylight.”

“Maybe this will cheer you up.” His father handed him a business-sized envelope.

“What’s this?”

“A contract. You can read the fine print later. It’s an investor’s agreement. I’m looking for a stake in Saddle Mountain.”

Logan’s jaw dropped. “What the—”

“Did he come?” The kids arrived en masse, tumbling into the room, sleep-tousled and still in their pajamas. “Did Santa come?”

Logan put the contract in his back pocket and couldn’t keep from grinning at his dad. “Yep,” he said. “It appears that he did.”

“Yay!”

Al turned to the herd of children. “Well, now, looks like Santa didn’t bring any electricity. Better check the stockings.”

“Stockings!” There was a mad scramble.

India and China arrived to supervise the first wave of holiday madness. Someone switched on the battery-powered speakers, and lively carols filled the air. Logan’s mother went around lighting every candle she could find. The stockings were stuffed with treats and crazy little toys, like windup roaring dinosaurs, stick-on tattoos, nostril-shaped pencil sharpeners, mini whoopee cushions. Charlie was enamored with a set of finger-sized steel drums, and André accompanied him on the harmonica.

“When can we open presents?” Bernie demanded. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

“After everybody gets here,” China said.

“Where’s Darcy?” Charlie asked, looking around.

Good question, thought Logan. Had last night’s conversation freaked her out so much she’d disappeared into the frozen tundra?

“I’ll go look in her room.” Bernie clambered up the stairs.

Uh-oh, thought Logan.

A few minutes later, Bernie returned, her eyes wide. “She’s gone. Her bed is all made up, and she’s gone.”

Instantly Logan’s sisters turned to him with knowledge written clearly in their gazes.

He offered a sheepish grin and a shrug.

“Where’d she go?” Charlie asked. “Should we go look for her?”

A commotion ensued as everyone debated and speculated, but it didn’t last long. “Hey, check it out,” said André, running to the front door.

There was Darcy in her parka and snowshoes, coming up the front walk, pulling a small sled behind her. She looked like a dream to Logan. Small and bright, a breath of fresh air. Last night had been incredible, and deep down, he felt completely certain this was not a fling or a rebound. They had a lot more talking to do.