Gina Wilkins - Make-Believe Mistletoe

Banner, Lucy noted surreptitiously, simply looked resigned.

When the children finished eating, they dashed off to brush their teeth while their mother and Lucy washed dishes in water heated on the stove. Bobby Ray and Banner assisted Miss Annie into the living room, where they settled her in the rocker in front of the fire with an afghan around her and her knitting close at hand. Pop sat on the couch with one of Banner's recent newsmagazines.

Between the light from the windows and the glow of the fire, there was just enough illumination in the room for reading and knitting, though Banner offered to bring in an oil lamp if the light began to fade. Satisfied that the older couple was comfortable, Banner wandered back into the kitchen.

He leaned against the bar, watching Joan and Lucy efficiently clean his kitchen. Well, to be specific, he watched Lucy. His gaze was drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on anything else.

“Just what, exactly, do you intend to use for decorations?” he asked her curiously.

She tossed aside her dish towel and tapped a fingertip against her chin. “We'll need a tree, of course…”

“A tree,” he repeated, hoping he had misunderstood.

“A Christmas tree,” she clarified, looking surprised that it had been necessary. “Do you have an artificial one, by any chance?”

“No, I don't own one.”

She looked disappointed. “I suppose we could get by without a Christmas tree…”

Some insane impulse made him say, “I'll find you a tree.”

Had he really volunteered to tromp around out there in the ice, cut down a tree and then figure out some way to stand it up in his house? Her sudden, radiant smile assured him that he had. Looking at that smile, he couldn't even honestly say he regretted the words.

He wondered if maybe the milk had been spoiled, after all. He found it much easier to attribute his uncharacteristic behavior to bad milk than to the charms of a pretty Christmas elf's smile.

“What kind of tree?” Bobby Ray asked, coming back into the room.

“They want a Christmas tree,” Banner answered.

“Not if it's too much trouble,” Joan insisted, trying to shrink into the woodwork behind her.

Joan was such a mousy, unprepossessing woman, Banner thought. She couldn't be less like Lucy, who was even now using her hands to describe to Bobby Ray exactly what sort of tree she envisioned for their holiday decorating.

The big trucker nodded, then looked at Banner.

“You've got some small evergreens in the woods around your house, don't you?”

“Yeah. It shouldn't take long to find one. The hard part's going to be finding one that isn't covered with ice.”

“Maybe if there's one that's been sheltered by bigger trees…”

“So much trouble,” Joan fretted, wringing her hands.

“Not if it means making them kids happy for Christmas,” Bobby Ray assured her kindly.

Joan's eyes welled. “That's very kind.”

Both Banner and Bobby Ray took a few steps backward, discomfited by the sight of tears. “We'll, uh, take care of the tree,” Banner said quickly, then turned to Lucy. “What else do you need for decorations?”

She tapped her chin again. “Popcorn, maybe, for stringing. Do you have any art supplies? Paper, glue, markers-that sort of thing?”

Banner turned on one heel. “I'll see what I can gather up.”

“Thank you, Banner,” she called after him as he left the room.

It must have been the milk, he thought again with a slow shake of his head.

By midmorning Lucy had turned the living room into a Christmas workshop. Banner had provided a generous-and rather surprisingly varied-supply of materials. Colored papers, thin sheets of cardboard, markers, glue, large tubes of silver, red and gold glitter, several colors of ribbon, yarn and fabric scraps. There was also a shoebox filled with buttons of all different shapes, sizes and colors, and a couple of booklets of gold and silver star-shaped stickers.

“Craft supplies?” Lucy asked when he'd carried the big carton of items into the room.

He shrugged. “My great-uncle kept supplies here to entertain his friends' children when they visited-kept the kids from getting into his tools. I used to play with the craft stuff, myself, when I was a kid. Always looked forward to it-until I got old enough to start working with his tools, which I liked even better. I found this carton in one of the storage closets after I moved in, and I thought it might come in handy someday.”

She gave him a grin. “Looks like it's 'someday.”'

“Apparently,” he agreed with that slight quirk of his lips that she had finally decided was a smile.

Now, warmed by the crackling fire, Joan and the children sat around the coffee table happily making paper chains and ornaments for the tree Banner and Bobby Ray had gone out to find. The dog snoozed beneath the round oak table, seeming to enjoy the company.

Miss Annie knitted contentedly in her rocker, while Pop strung popcorn on fishing line. His hands were a bit gnarled, but he handled the needle skillfully. “I've strung plenty of popcorn in my day,” he boasted. “Done my share of sewing, too.”

Lucy studied the scene with a touch of smugness. Very domestic. The children were laughing and the adults were all smiling. The appetizing scent of popcorn filled the room, and the flickering of the candles that lightened the shadowy corners added an old-world charm.

What a clever idea she'd had, she thought as she turned toward the kitchen to pour herself another cup of coffee. Now everyone was happy again.

She had just stepped into the room when the kitchen door flew open with a bang and Banner carried Bobby Ray into the house.

Of course, Banner wasn't exactly carrying the much larger man, but he was obviously supporting him as Bobby Ray limped inside, a painful grimace behind his beard. Forgetting the coffee, Lucy rushed forward. “What happened? Bobby Ray, are you hurt?”

It was a stupid question, she realized as Banner lowered the other man into a chair. But Bobby Ray answered patiently. “I'm okay. Just took a spill on the ice, that's all. Bruised, but no real damage.”

Having heard Lucy's cry, Joan came in to see what was going on. She took one look at the men and hurried to the percolator. “You both look half-frozen.”

Banner and Bobby Ray had peeled off their hats and gloves, revealing faces reddened by cold and fingers that moved stiffly as they reached for the steaming mugs Joan offered them. Lucy bit her lower lip in guilt. She had been so focused on having a Christmas tree for the children that she hadn't given enough thought to the dangers of trudging around on a sheet of ice.

She moved closer to Bobby Ray. “Are you sure nothing's broken? Maybe I should look at your injury to see how bad it really is.”

Banner cleared his throat.

Bobby Ray gave a bark of laughter. “I don't think so, Lucy. Truth is, my feet flew out from under me and I landed flat on my-” he glanced at Joan, then concluded “-on my behind. Just bruised my tailbone, that's all. It's sore as he-er, heck, but I'll be all right.”

“You should at least take a pain reliever.”

Banner moved to the pantry, took out a plastic bottle of ibuprofen, and tossed it to Bobby Ray, who caught it in one big hand. Lucy noted that Banner's expression was shuttered, so that she couldn't read his thoughts. Which, she decided with a grimace, was probably just as well.

He caught her eyes as he moved toward the back door again. “I'll go out and build a stand for the tree,” he said, handing her his empty mug when he passed her.

Setting the mug on the counter, she turned to follow Banner out onto the back porch, leaving Joan to see to Bobby Ray. The frigid air hit her like a hard kick, driving the breath from her lungs. It hung in a frosty cloud in front of her. She crossed her arms over her thick sweatshirt and shivered. “You found a tree?”

Pulling his hat back onto his head, Banner nodded. “A small cedar that managed to miss most of the ice because it was under several larger trees. It's over by my workshop.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I can handle it. Looked as if you're keeping things under control in there. Why don't you go back inside? You don't even have on a coat.”

“I feel guilty,” she admitted. “You've been out here in the cold and ice finding a tree you didn't want in the first place while I've been in your warm house watching the kids make decorations you didn't ask for. Bobby Ray got hurt and you-”

“Wait a minute.” He set his hands heavily on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “When those kids came into the kitchen this morning, they were the saddest sight I ever saw. Now they're in there laughing and having a good time getting into the Christmas spirit, and all because you had the clever idea to have them make decorations. There's no reason at all for you to feel guilty.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “But Bobby Ray-”

“Bobby Ray bruised his butt,” Banner interrupted inelegantly. “I saw him fall, and I'm confident he'll be fine.

Just sore. And I'm sure he would risk falling again if it meant making the kids happy. He told me he hated seeing them so sad.”

Banner's reassurances made her feel better. Though she was self-conscious about standing so close to him and having his hands on her, she found herself in no hurry to move away.

“If it hadn't been for you,” he went on, “I wouldn't have known what to do with everyone today. The kids would probably be whining and crying and bringing everyone else down, and it would have been miserable. Believe me, you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it.”