Fiona Harper - Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

It was just past noon and the most glorious summer day. He stood for a moment on the jetty and considered his next move. Where was Louise likely to be at this time of day?

It saddened him that he didn’t know, that her life had changed so much since he’d last seen her. But at the same time he was immensely proud of her. He’d seen all that potential inside of her, but it took strength of character and guts to turn that into something real.

Something flashed up on the boathouse balcony and he immediately craned his neck to see what it was. The sun had bounced off the glass part of the door as it had opened and out stepped…Louise.

She was wearing a faint smile and her long chocolate-brown hair glowed chestnut in the sunshine. He couldn’t move, suddenly didn’t know what to say. If it was possible, he’d forgotten how beautiful she was-or maybe she had just got more beautiful, because there was something different about her.

She rested her hands on the edge of the balcony and leaned forward, breathing in the salty river air.

And then she saw him and stiffened in surprise. He couldn’t hear her from where he was standing, but he was sure he saw her mouth his name. The lapping of the river, the constant shrieking of the seagulls all died away as they both stood frozen to the spot, staring at each other.

She smiled. And then he was running-up the jetty, up the steps to the boathouse’s upper room. He made himself stop when he got to the door that led on to the narrow balcony, half worried she would disappear into thin air if he got too close.

She was leaning against the rail, her back to the river. Her long, frilly-edged skirt fidgeted in the breeze. ‘Ben,’ she repeated. Her smile was soft and warm, with a hint of sadness. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

He nodded. Nothing sensible was going to come out of his mouth unless he got his act together. ‘You too.’

His heart started to pound in his chest as he crossed the threshold on to the balcony. He was close enough to touch her now, but he wouldn’t-not yet.

‘I saw the article in the magazine.’

Okay. If this was as smooth as he was going to get, he might just as well jump back into his dinghy right now.

She nodded. ‘I’m going to be in the spotlight whether I like it or not, so I might as well get to choose where it shines.’ She looked at her feet, then back up at him. ‘So, Ben Oliver, why are you trespassing on my land again after all this time?’

It was a joke and he was supposed to laugh, but he seemed to have lost the knack.

‘I…um…forgot to give you something.’

She frowned and her eyebrows arched in the middle. ‘When?’

‘At Christmas.’

His heart slunk into his boots. On the way over here this had seemed clever, now it just seemed…lame.

‘Christmas was a long time ago.’

He reached into his pocket and his fingers closed around the palm-sized box hidden there. ‘I know. But some gifts have their own seasons. This one was a little early back then.’

She bit her lip. ‘Am I going to like this gift?’

It was now or never. And he was shaking in his sensible boots. He looped the little ribbon holding the box closed round his finger and used it to pull the silver parcel out of his pocket. Then he dropped it in her hands.

‘I’m not sure it’s in season even now, but sometimes…you can just…wait too long…’

It didn’t seem to matter that he wasn’t making any sense, because she was staring so hard at the little package he sensed she wasn’t taking it in anyway. With excruciating slowness, she tugged the velvet bow and let it fall to the floor. Then she pulled the lid off the box.

‘Oh.’

Oh? Was that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?

‘Oh, Ben!’

A good ‘oh’. Warmth began to spread upwards from his toes.

Her nose crinkled in confusion. ‘Mistletoe? But it’s almost summer!’ Gently, she reached into the box and pulled the sprig out to look at it. A thin white ribbon looped round the top and was tied in an elaborate bow. ‘It’s not even plastic! It’s…’

‘…the real deal,’ he finished for her.

She stepped close enough for him to smell her perfume. ‘How did you…?’

He shrugged. ‘I have my sources.’

She twiddled the mistletoe between finger and thumb and suddenly grew more serious. ‘What does this mean, Ben?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

She bit her lip and looked away. ‘You want to…kiss me?’

Always. For ever. But he’d promised himself he wouldn’t until she’d given him the answer he wanted to hear. ‘I love you, Louise. I always will.’

Louise shook her head. ‘After all the things I said to you! I don’t deserve it!’

He couldn’t use his hands to make her look at him, so he concentrated on just pulling her gaze to his by the force of his will-power. ‘Yes, you do.’

Six months ago, he would have seen the doubt in her eyes, but the woman standing before him looked deep into his eyes and he saw the light of recognition flicker on. Slowly, she raised her arm so the little green sprig dangled above her head and, taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.

This was it. Now or never. He thought perhaps he was going to hyperventilate, but managed to pull himself together. Louise was still poised, ready for the kiss, her lips soft and slightly parted. When he didn’t respond straight away, she lifted one eyelid, making the other scrunch up.

Her whisper of uncertainty only made his fingers shake all the more. ‘Ben?’

He nodded up to the little green sprig with its cluster of white berries above their heads. ‘Look a little closer.’

With his fingers as deft as a bunch of bananas, he tugged her hand downward so the mistletoe rested at eye level and she could see the diamond ring held fast by the white velvet bow.

‘Marry me?’

Louise’s eyes snapped all the way open and she dropped the sprig on the floor, then her hands flew to her chest and stayed there.

His heart tap-danced inside his ribcage. He bent down and gently rescued both mistletoe and ring before he trampled it with his boots. Louise looked as if she was in a trance. Taking a chance, because she wasn’t slapping him in the face or running up the hill, he twirled the mistletoe above their heads once more.

‘Please…?’

‘Yes! Oh, Ben, yes!’ She threw herself at him and almost sent him flying over the edge of the balcony. He guided her hands so she gently pulled at the ribbon to release the ring and it dropped into his waiting hand.

She looked up at him, laughing and shaking her head, her eyes shining. ‘Are you for real, Ben Oliver?’

He nodded and lowered his head, then brushed his mouth across hers, savouring the moment, and slid the ring on to her left hand. ‘Merry Christmas, Louise,’ he whispered against her lips, before wrapping her in his arms and pulling her into the cool darkness of the boathouse.

As a child, Fiona Harper was constantly teased for either having her nose in a book or living in a dream world. Things haven’t changed much since then, but at least in writing she’s found a use for her runaway imagination. After studying dance at university, Fiona worked as a dancer, teacher and choreographer, before trading in that career for video editing and production. When she became a mother she cut back on her working hours to spend time with her children, and when her littlest one started preschool she found a few spare moments to rediscover an old but not forgotten love-writing.