Silhouette Christmas Stories Read online

  "All right." Tony snapped his fingers at Andrew and growled, "Hey, let's go get it. What are we waiting for? Lead the way."

  As he followed Andrew out the door, he threw Karen a look that made her insides react in strange, exciting ways. A look of frustration and promise.

  By the time they came back with the ladder, she had her meager supply of decorations spread out on the couch, the ones she and Bob had bought for their tiny coffee table tree their first Christmas together, the year Andrew was born. A box of unbreakable red balls, some white plastic snowflakes, a few feet of silver tinsel garland, a single string of lights, and a crumpled gold foil star. She touched the star, remembering how dismayed they'd been when Bob had stepped on it accidentally while backing up to admire the tree, and how they'd comforted each other, and finally laughed about it and decided to keep it anyway, to always remember that first Christmas…

  "It's not much for such a big tree, is it?" she said, clearing her throat as Tony came up behind her. "One string of lights isn't going to go very far."

  "It's a start." He had that particular gruffness in his voice that meant he was going to say or do something nice. "And… I've probably got a couple of strings lying around my place we can add to it. Um-" he coughed and shifted uncomfortably "-if you want me to, I can bring 'em tomorrow."

  "That would be-" she paused, then, with a soft, inward smile, substituted for that forbidden word, nice "-great! But are you sure you don't need them?"

  "Nah, I don't need 'em. I hadn't planned to put up a tree this year, actually. Too much trouble. I'm going to my folks for Christmas, anyway."

  "Oh," Karen said. "I see. Well, then… "

  "I always go to my parents' place Christmas Day," Tony said. "For dinner, and… you know. Traditional family get-together."

  "That's… nice."

  "Yeah."

  They stood side by side in silence, watching Andrew maneuver the ladder into place astride the train track. Then Karen said, "What about Christmas Eve?"

  "Christmas Eve?" Tony coughed and rubbed his nose. "I hadn't actually made any plans."

  "Well," Karen said, and took a deep breath, "would you like to come over here? It will just be Andrew and me. Nothing special, but… we'd like to have you, if you don't have anything else planned. I know Andrew-"

  "Okay," Tony said, "I'll come." He sort of squinted up at the top of the tree, then looked down at her. "If… you come with me to my folks' house on Christmas Day."

  "Come… with you?" Warmth and wonder flooded her. She turned to him slowly. "Are you sure?"

  "Sure, I'm sure."

  "They won't… your family won't mind?"

  She was a little puzzled when Tony burst out laughing. "You have no idea," he said, still chuckling, "how happy they're going to be to meet you!"

  The early winter night was upon them by the time they'd finished hanging the decorations-including Andrew's polyhedron-on the tree. The single string of lights winked bravely from the topmost branches and was multiplied by its reflection in the dark window. Outside, the snow fell silently, drifting on the windowsills like painted-on holiday trimmings.

  While Andrew and Tony returned the ladder to its proper place, Karen opened two cans of soup- chicken noodle for herself and Andrew, and mine-strone for Tony. They ate in the kitchen. While the snowflakes sifted past the windows, Tony told Andrew stories of boyhood adventures and mishaps in the snow.

  Watching them, listening to the sounds of their voices, laughing with them, Karen felt warm and contented and happy. Happier than she'd thought she could ever be again. So happy it scared her. Because she knew how fragile such happiness was, and how suddenly it could all be taken away. The fear blew through her like a blizzard wind, shaking her so that she had to get up and leave the table, for fear they would see it and ask her what was wrong.

  How could she explain such fear? How could she tell anyone that, standing at the sink looking out at the swirling snow, she felt the same cold inside herself, even though the room behind her was filled with the warmth of laughter and much-loved voices? I'm afraid of happiness, she thought, her heart trembling with both those emotions. I'm afraid of loving again. I'm falling in love with Tony, but- Oh God, how would I stand it if I ever lost him? How could I survive that again?

  Watching her, Tony felt the struggle in her as surely as he'd felt it that morning in his office when he'd held her unwilling hands closed around the keys to his car. He could see it in her rigid shoulders, in the white-knuckled hand on the edge of the sink. It was a battle of wills, only this time she was fighting herself, and he wasn't sure which side was winning.

  Damn it, he thought, frustration lancing through him, why is she fighting it? Something this good-and it was good, he was sure of it-why didn't she just let it happen? It took all of his willpower to keep from throwing himself into the middle of her battle, to keep from going to her right then and there, putting his arms around her and telling her it would all work out fine if only she'd just stop fighting it.

  The evening seemed long to Karen, full of tensions and undercurrents to which Andrew, happily, seemed totally oblivious. He worked diligently on the train, painting with his usual deliberation and painstaking care, while Tony reduced the switchbox to an indistinguishable litter of parts and pieces. It didn't look to Karen like anything that could possibly be in working order by Christmas, but Andrew seemed to have no doubts. He chattered away to Tony about how "cool" it was going to be to have the train chugging around the tree on Christmas morning, and how neat it would be to build tunnels and a village for it to run through. Karen just hoped he wasn't setting himself up for a big disappointment.

  She spent the evening sitting cross-legged on the carpet, dipping sycamore balls in acrylic paint and spreading them out on waxed paper to dry. And nervously watching the clock. She didn't know whether she was looking forward to being alone with Tony or dreading it, but the closer it got to eight-thirty, the more butterflies there were rampaging around in her stomach.

  In any case, inevitably, eight-thirty did arrive, and once again Karen was surprised to receive no arguments from Andrew in response to the gentle reminder that it was his bedtime. He seemed, in fact, to have anticipated the moment, because the paint he'd been using was already put away, and when Tony sternly asked him if he'd cleaned his brush, he held it up and said proudly, "Yep-see?"

  That alone woke Karen's suspicions. They grew by leaps and bounds when her son took off his glasses, gave a huge, stagey yawn and, blinking like a sleepy owl, announced, "I'm pretty tired. Guess I'll turn in… 'Night, Tony. 'Night, Mom."

  Turn in? He'd never said that before in his life.

  In the doorway, Andrew half turned. "You don't have to tuck me in," he said earnestly. "Just go right on with what you're doing."

  That was Andrew, subtle as a truck! Karen was so bemused she even forgot to tell him to brush his teeth.

  "What's funny?" Tony asked. She was trying her best to stifle her laughter by burying her face in her hands.

  "Oh… nothing." But she made the mistake of looking at him, and just like that the laughter died. Her heart began to hammer painfully; she made a tiny, throat-clearing sound and looked away again. "Well," she said, nodding at the dismantled switchbox and the array of tools spread out on the coffee table, "how's it coming? Do you think you can get it to work?"

  "Hey," Tony growled, ignoring her question, "come on up here." Shifting a little to make room, he leaned over, caught her hand and pulled her up beside him. "Forget the damn train. I think you and I have some unfinished business…"

  Chapter Six

  " 'Unfinished business… '" Karen whispered, looking toward the doorway to the hall. She could still hear the sounds of water running, and the indeterminate bumps and thumps Andrew made getting ready for bed.

  "Does it bother you?" Tony asked softly, following her glance. He didn't have to say any more.

  She smiled and shook her head. "No… in fact… " Her gaze shifted to her hand, whic
h was still clasped in his. His thumb had begun to stroke lightly back and forth along the tendons in the back of her hand, and to explore the sensitive places between the fingers. She caught her breath. "I think he knows."

  "You mean this 'Guess I'll turn in' business?"

  She nodded, laughing. "He's never been this cooperative about bedtime in his whole life."

  Their chuckles merged, stirring eddies of warm air across each other's faces. Tony's fingers touched her chin, rubbed along her jaw, gently persuading. When she lifted her eyes to his, he smiled into them and murmured, "Well, since we seem to have his blessing… where were we?"

  "That's about the place," Karen whispered, sick and dizzy with wanting.

  When his lips touched hers, she made a sound, something between a whimper and a gasp; her chest tightened, and all her emotions surged joyously. His fingers fanned along her cheekbone and pushed into her hair, holding her head in a warm embrace while his mouth covered hers, sank into hers… slowly, deeply. She sighed and felt that tender merging all through her body, in every part of her, in the tingling, shivering places and the hot, throbbing places, and, most of all, in the empty aching places deep within her heart. Tears sprang to her eyes. She gave a single shuddering sob and pulled away.

  But Tony's fingers held her, spreading through her hair, refusing to let her go, gently guiding her face upward, compelling her to look at him. "What is it?" he asked softly. "I don't want to rush you. If it's too soon…?"

  She shook her head and said in a distraught and rapid whisper, "No, it's not that. It's been so long- I don't have any control. I'm afraid I can't… I can't trust my judgment!"

  His laughter caressed her lips. His tongue teased and cajoled them, inviting them to join his smile. "Sweetheart, I think this is the time for letting go of control. It's not a matter of judgment, it's just… instinct. Don't try to think too much."

  "But I have to think! It's happening too fast. I don't know you!"

  Oh, but she did… she did. She knew all that was important to know. She knew that he was honest and compassionate, patient and generous. She knew that he was shy and reserved, which only made the intimate things he shared with her the more miraculous and wonderful. She knew that he smiled with his eyes.

  Only, his eyes weren't smiling now. Dark, grave and compassionate, they gazed steadily into hers. "Baby," he said softly, "how long has it been?"

  She closed her eyes. "Five years."

  "And in all that time, you mean to tell me there hasn't been anyone else?"

  "No," she whispered. "No one."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't know, I guess… I just wasn't ready."

  "And now?"

  And now… She opened her eyes and looked at him-at his beautiful face, its dark-fringed eyes, chiseled features and warm, sensitive mouth. For some reason it didn't seem so paralyzingly handsome to her anymore, just… very, very dear. Oh God, she thought, reaching with trembling fingers to touch him. How did this happen? In such a short time, how did this face come to be so dear to me? How did this man come to mean so much to me? All of a sudden she felt naked… exposed… frightened. Tears welled up and overflowed. She put up her hands in a futile attempt to stem the tide and sobbed, "I don't know!"

  There was a long silence, broken only by a muffled sniff. Then Tony lowered his head and kissed her, gently licking the salty tears from her lips. "You were right," he said in the gruff and tender voice she loved. "It's moving too fast for you. You're not ready. You'll know when you are. Let me know, okay?"

  No! she wanted to cry. I am ready! I don't know what's the matter with me… But, overcome with emotion, she could only grip his wrists tightly and nod.

  "Hey, it's okay. I'll see you tomorrow." He kissed her once more, lightly, and stood up. Karen stood up, too, brushing at her wet cheeks. He hesitated, reached out as if to touch her, then let his hand drop. "Don't cry," he said in a hoarse whisper, and then he left her.

  Karen was glad the next day was Sunday and that she didn't have to fight her way to work, since she had no experience whatsoever driving in snow and would probably have ended up in a ditch somewhere-or worse. Andrew, of course, couldn't wait to bundle up and go outside to play, though his winter clothes were woefully inadequate. His Christmas presents were going to have to be on the practical side this year, Karen thought with a pang as she watched him from the bay window, trying to roll snowballs in a pair of her old driving gloves. Boots, mittens and a warm winter coat-not the sort of things to make a little boy's eyes light up on Christmas morning.

  But at least there was the train. It would make up for a lot, if only Tony could get it running in time. If only…

  Tony came over a little after noon to work on the train, stopping off in the front yard first for a snowy roughhouse with Andrew. They came in together, noisy and laughing, stomping and melting in dirty puddles all over the floor, thereby overriding any awkwardness that might have remained after last night.

  After adding the two strings of Christmas lights he'd brought with him to the one already on the tree, Tony settled down to the painstaking task of reassembling the switchbox. Andrew put a second coat of paint on the caboose, and then, bored with that job, spent the rest of the afternoon hanging sycamore balls on the tree and pestering Tony with questions. Karen stayed in the kitchen and decorated cookies by herself.

  Just before dinnertime Tony went home, saying he had some things he needed to do and an early workday the next morning, and promising to come back the next night. Andrew didn't argue or try to persuade him to stay, but Karen caught him looking from her to Tony and back again with worry and uncertainty in his eyes. Oh, how her heart ached for him, for his fear and vulnerability! All her instincts yearned to shield and protect him, but she knew she couldn't, not from this. She didn't know any way to protect her child from the pain and risk of loving someone.

  After supper, Karen and Andrew tried to do some more work on the train, but without Tony the apartment seemed very quiet and empty, and after a while they gave up and went to bed early.

  By the next day the streets were clear, though wet in streaks and patches from melting snow. Karen had intended to take Andrew to work with her, but when they met Mr. Clausen on the front walk, the old man asked if Andrew would like to stay with him instead. Karen had reservations, but Andrew was so enthusiastic about the idea that she gave in, with the stipulation that he was to call her immediately if he had any problems. They both promised readily and earnestly that they would, and went off together hand in hand, beaming at each other with the special glow of Christmas co-conspirators.

  Relieved of the responsibility of entertaining Andrew, Karen used her lunch hour to shop for his Christmas presents. With the money she'd saved on car repairs she bought him a warm coat with a hood, rubber boots, and a ski cap and mittens. She also bought an inexpensive calculator, a book of magic tricks and another of silly riddles, a three-dimensional puzzle and some candy canes to put in his Christmas stocking. As for the other people on her list, she'd already brought a big plate of Christmas cookies for Louise and her family, and a smaller one for her boss, Mr. James. She meant to do the same for Mrs. Gold-rich and Mr. Clausen. That left Tony.

  There was nothing like trying to think of the right gift, she reflected, to make you realize how little you know about someone. She realized that she didn't even know Tony's size, or what he liked or what he needed. Everything she saw was either too expensive or just seemed wrong, somehow. She supposed she could always give him cookies, too, and she would. She knew he would love them. But she wanted to give him something else, something… more. Something that would tell him how she felt about him. Something that was special to her, as he was. Something that was a part of her. As he was, now.

  When she got home, she barely had time to hide her purchases in her bedroom before Andrew came crashing through the front door, looking furtive with his glasses precariously balanced on the end of his nose and a big bulge under his coat. He scuttled sideways thr
ough the living room and slammed his bedroom door, emerging a short while later looking calmer, but with an air of suppressed excitement. He made Karen take a solemn oath not to go into his room until after Christmas. She made him do the same.

  That night, Tony brought pizza again, and two wrapped presents to put under the tree. While they were eating, a cold wind sprang up, rattling the shutters and whistling under the eaves. Inside, the old house seemed to shiver with delicious Christmas secrets…

  On the day before Christmas, the insurance office was due to close at noon, and since it was only for half a day, Karen took Andrew with her to work. On the way home, they stopped at the grocery store to pick up some wrapping paper and ribbon, and a few last-minute things for Christmas Eve dinner. Back at the apartment, Karen put Andrew to work in the kitchen arranging cookies on plates for Mrs. Goldrich and Mr. Clausen, as well as a nice big boxful to take to Tony's family on Christmas Day.

  "Leave some for us to eat tonight," she reminded him.

  Andrew looked at her over the top of his glasses. "And some for Tony."

  Karen smiled a secret smile, thinking of the gift she'd found for Tony. The perfect gift, a part of herself. "It's all right, I've already got his put away."

  "Oh," said Andrew casually. "That's all right, then."

  "Andrew," Karen said, "I've been thinking. How would you like to invite Mr. Clausen to join us tonight?"

  "You could," Andrew said, licking colored sugar off his fingers, "but I don't think he can come."

  "Why not?"

  He gave her a patient look, lifted one shoulder and said simply, "It's Christmas Eve."

  "Oh, Andrew," Karen said, laughing and shaking her head. It was impossible to be exasperated with a child on Christmas Eve for believing in Santa Claus…

  While Andrew was busy with the cookies, Karen wrapped all her presents, including Tony's, and put them under the tree. Then she and Andrew went to deliver the cookies to Mrs. Goldrich and Mr. Clausen.