Kitabı oku: «That Christmas Feeling», sayfa 3

Five

What do you think?” Mackenzie proudly held up a crochet hook with a lopsided snowflake dangling from it. “Carrie’s whole tree is decorated with snowflakes she crocheted,” she added. “Her grandma Manning taught her to crochet when she was about my age.” She wound the thread around her index finger and awkwardly manipulated the hook.

“It’s lovely, sweetheart.”

“Mom’ll be pleased, won’t she.” Mackenzie turned the question into a statement, so certain was she of his response.

“She’ll be thrilled.” Philip’s jaw tightened at the mention of Laura. His ex-wife had contacted Mackenzie and arranged a time for their daughter to visit her. Ever since she’d heard from her mother, Mackenzie had been walking five feet off the ground. Philip didn’t know what he’d do if Laura didn’t show. He wouldn’t put it past her, but he prayed she wouldn’t do anything so cruel.

“Carrie’s been great,” Mackenzie continued. “She taught me everything.” She paused long enough to look up at him. “I like her so much, Dad.”

The hint was there and it wasn’t subtle. The problem was that Philip had discovered that his feelings for Carrie were similar to those of his daughter. Although he avoided contact with Carrie, there was no escaping her. Mackenzie brought her name into every conversation, marching her virtues past him, one by one.

Carrie had become a real friend to Mackenzie. It used to be that his daughter moped about the apartment, complaining about missing her friends—although she spent plenty of time on the phone and the Internet with them—and generally making his life miserable. These days, if she wasn’t with Carrie, she was helping Maria with her cats, having tea with Madame Frederick—and having the leaves read—or lifting weights with Arnold.

“I’m going to miss the Christmas party,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s in the community room on Christmas Eve.” She glanced up to be certain he was listening. “Everyone in the building’s invited. Carrie’s going, so is Madame Frederick and just everyone. It’s going to be a blast.” She sighed with heartfelt regret. “But being with Mom is more important than a party. She’s really busy, you know,” Mackenzie said, not for the first time.

“I’m sure she is,” Philip muttered distractedly. He’d forgotten about the Christmas party. He’d received the notice a day or so earlier, and would’ve tossed it if Mackenzie hadn’t gone into ecstasies when she saw it. From her reaction, one would think it was an invitation to the Christmas ball to meet a bachelor prince. As for him, he had better things to do than spend the evening with a group of friendly oddballs—and Carrie.

Philip reached for his car keys and his gym bag. “I’ll only be gone an hour,” he promised.

“It’s okay. It’ll take me that long to finish this.” She looked up. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, putting everything aside and leaping out of the chair as if propelled upward by a loose spring. She ran into her bedroom and returned a moment later with a small white envelope. “It’s for you,” she said, watching him eagerly. “Open it now, okay?”

“Shouldn’t I wait until Christmas?”

“No.” She gestured for him to tear open the envelope.

Inside was a card in the shape of a silver bell.

“Go ahead and read it,” she urged, and would have done so herself if he hadn’t acted promptly. The card was an invitation to lunch at the corner deli. “I’m buying,” she insisted, “to thank you for being a great dad. We’ve had our differences this year and I want you to know that no matter what I say, I’ll always love you.”

“I feel the same way, and I don’t tell you that enough,” he murmured, touched by her words. “I’ll be happy to pay for lunch.”

“No way,” she said. “I’ve saved my allowance and did a few odd jobs for Madame Frederick and Arnold. I can afford it, as long as you don’t order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

“I’ll eat a big breakfast,” he said and kissed her on the cheek before he walked out the door. He pushed the button for the elevator and caught himself grinning. He’d been doing a lot more of that lately. In the beginning he thought moving into the apartment had been a mistake. No longer. The changes in Mackenzie since meeting Carrie had been dramatic.

The elevator arrived and he stepped inside, pushing the button for the lobby. It stopped on the next floor and Carrie entered, carrying a laundry basket. She hesitated when she saw he was the only other occupant.

“I don’t bite,” he assured her.

“That’s what they all say,” she teased back. She reached across him and pushed the button for the basement, then stepped back. The doors closed sluggishly. Finally the elevator started to move, its descent slow and methodical, then it lurched sharply, dropping several feet.

Carrie gasped and staggered against the wall.

Philip maintained his balance by bracing his shoulder against the side. Everything went dark.

“Philip?” Carrie inquired a moment later.

“I’m here.” It was more than dark, it was pitch-black inside. Even straining his eyes, he couldn’t see a thing. “Looks like there’s been a power outage.”

“Oh, dear.” Her voice sounded small.

“Are you afraid of the dark?”

“Of course not,” she returned indignantly. “Well, maybe just a little. Everyone is—I mean, it wouldn’t be unusual under these circumstances to experience some anxiety.”

“Of course,” he agreed politely, putting his gym bag down beside him.

“How long will it take for the power to come back on?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, although he realized she couldn’t see him. “Give me your hand.”

“Why?” she snapped.

“I thought it would comfort you.”

“Oh. Here,” she murmured, but of course he couldn’t see it. He thrust his arm out and their hands collided. She gripped his like a lifeline tossed over the side of a boat. Her fingers were cold as ice.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I know that,” she responded defensively.

He wasn’t entirely sure who moved first, but before another moment passed, he had his arm around her and was holding her protectively against him. He’d been thinking about this since the day they’d attended the movie. He hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on the image, but it felt right to have her this close. More right than it should.

Neither spoke. He wasn’t sure why; then again, he knew. For his own part, he didn’t want reality interrupting his fantasy. Under the cover of the dark he could safely lower his guard. Carrie, he suspected, didn’t speak for fear she’d reveal how truly frightened she was. Philip felt her tremble and welcomed the opportunity to bring her closer into his embrace.

“It won’t be long.”

“I hope so,” she whispered back.

Without conscious thought, he wove his fingers into her hair. He loved the softness of it, the fresh, clean scent. He tried to concentrate on other things and found that he couldn’t.

“Maybe we should talk,” she suggested. “You know, to help pass the time.”

“What do you want to talk about?” He could feel her breath against the side of his neck. Wistful and provocative. In that instant Philip knew he was going to kiss her. He was motivated by two equally strong impulses—need and curiosity. It’d been a long time since he’d held a woman. For longer than he wanted to remember, he’d kept any hint of desire tightly in check. He’d rather live a life of celibacy than risk another failed marriage.

He would’ve ended their embrace then and there if Carrie had offered any resistance. She didn’t. Her lips were moist and warm. Welcoming. He moaned softly and she did, too.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” she whispered.

“Later,” he promised and kissed her again.

At first their kisses were light, intriguing, seductive. This wouldn’t be happening if they weren’t trapped in a dark elevator, Philip assured himself. He felt he should explain that, but couldn’t stop kissing her long enough to form the words.

“Philip …”

He responded by brushing his moist lips against hers. His gut wrenched with sheer excitement at what they were doing.

Carrie wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging tightly. He eased her against the wall, kissing her ravenously.

That was when the lights came back on.

They both froze. It was as if they stood on a stage behind a curtain that was about to be raised, revealing them to a waiting audience.

But the electricity flashed off as quickly as it had come on.

Philip plastered himself against the wall, his hands loose at his sides as he struggled to deal with what they’d been doing. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but he’d behaved like one—like a love-starved seventeen-year-old boy.

For the first time since his divorce, Philip felt the defenses around his heart begin to crack. The barriers had been fortified by his bitterness, by resentment, by fear. This—falling in love with Carrie—wasn’t what he wanted. After the divorce, he’d vowed not to get involved again. Carrie was young and sweet and deserved a man who came without emotional scars and a child in tow.

He was grateful that the electricity hadn’t returned; he needed these few additional minutes to compose himself.

“Are you all right?” he asked, when he could speak without betraying what he felt.

“I’m fine.” Her voice contradicted her words. She sounded anything but.

He thought of apologizing, but he couldn’t make himself say the words, afraid she’d guess the effect she’d had on him.

“You can’t blame a guy for taking advantage of the dark, can you?” he asked, callously and deliberately making light of the exchange.

The electricity returned at precisely that moment. He squinted against the bright light. Carrie stood with her back against the wall opposite him, her fingers fanned out against the panel, her eyes stricken. The laundry basket rested in the far corner where she’d dropped it, clothing tumbled all around.

“Is that all this was to you?” she asked in a hurt whisper.

“Sure,” he responded with a careless shrug. “Is it supposed to mean anything more?”

Before she could answer, the elevator stopped at the lobby floor and the doors opened. Philip was grateful for the chance to escape.

“Obviously not,” she answered, but her eyes went blank and she stared past him. Then she leaned over and stabbed the basement button again. She crouched down to collect her laundry as he stepped out, clutching his gym bag.

He felt guilty and sad. He hadn’t meant to hurt Carrie. She’d touched Mackenzie’s life and his with her generosity of spirit.

Philip cursed himself for the fool he was.

“Go after her,” a voice behind him advised.

Irritated, he turned to find Maria and Madame Frederick standing behind him.

“She’s a good woman,” Maria said, holding a fat calico cat on her arm, stroking its fur. “You won’t find another like her.”

“You could do worse.” Madame Frederick chuckled. “The fact is, you already have.”

“Would you two kindly stay out of my affairs?”

Both women looked taken aback by his gruff, cold response to their friendly advice.

“How rude!” the retired schoolteacher exclaimed.

“Never mind, dearie. Some men need more help than we can give them.” Madame Frederick’s words were pointed.

Disgusted with the two busybodies, and even more so with himself, Philip hurried out of the apartment building, determined that, from here on out, he was taking the stairs. Without exception.

Six

“Did I ever tell you about Randolf?” Madame Frederick asked as she poured Carrie a cup of tea the next Saturday morning. “We met when I was a girl. All right, I was twenty, but a naive twenty. I knew the moment our eyes met that I should fear for my virtue.” She paused, her hand holding the lid of the teapot in place, her eyes caught in the loving memory of forty years past. Laughing softly, she continued. “We were married within a week of meeting. We both knew we were meant to be together. It was useless to fight fate.”

“He was your husband?” Although Madame Frederick had obviously loved him deeply, she rarely talked about her marriage.

“Yes.” She sighed. “The man who stole my heart. We had thirty happy years together. We fought like cats and dogs and we loved each other. Oh, how we loved each other. One look from that man could curl my toes. He could say to me with one glance what would take three hundred pages in a book.”

Carrie added sugar to her tea and stirred. Her hand trembled slightly as her mind drifted back to the kisses she’d shared with Philip in the elevator. She’d taken the stairs ever since. She’d been kissed before, plenty of times, but it had never felt like it had with Philip. What unsettled her was how perfectly she understood what her neighbor was saying about Randolf.

“I didn’t remarry after he died,” Madame Frederick said as she slipped into the chair next to Carrie. “My heart wouldn’t let me.” She reached for her teacup. “Not many women are as fortunate as I am to have found a love so great, and at such a tender age.”

Carrie sipped her tea and struggled to concentrate on Madame Frederick’s words, although her thoughts were on Philip—and his kisses. She wanted to push the memories out of her mind, but they refused to leave.

“I wanted to give you your Christmas present early,” Madame Frederick announced and set a small, wrapped package in her lap.

“I have something for you, too, but I was going to wait until Christmas.”

“I want you to open yours now.”

The older woman watched as Carrie untied the gold ribbon and peeled away the paper. Inside the box was a small glass bowl filled with dried herbs and flowers. Despite the cellophane covering, she could smell the concoction. Potpourri? The scent reminded her a bit of sage.

“It’s a fertility potion,” Madame Frederick explained.

“Fertility!” Carrie nearly dropped the delicate bowl.

“Brew these leaves as a tea and—”

“Madame Frederick, I have no intention of getting pregnant anytime soon!”

The woman smiled and said nothing.

“I appreciate the gesture, really I do.” She didn’t want her friend to think she wasn’t grateful, but she had no plans to have a child within the foreseeable future. “I’m sure that at some point down the road I’ll be brewing up this potion of yours.” She took another drink of her tea and caught sight of the time. “Oh, dear,” she said, rising quickly to her feet. “I’m supposed to be somewhere in five minutes.” Mackenzie had generously offered to buy her lunch as a Christmas gift. Philip’s daughter had written the invitation on a lovely card shaped like a silver bell.

“Thank you again, Madame Frederick,” she said, downing the last of the tea. She carefully tucked the unwrapped Christmas gift in her purse and reached for her coat.

“Come and visit me again soon,” Madame Frederick said.

“I will,” Carrie promised. She enjoyed her time with her neighbor, although she generally didn’t understand how Madame chose their topics of conversation. Her reminiscences about her long-dead husband had seemed a bit odd, especially the comment about fearing for her virtue. It was almost as if Madame Frederick knew what she and Philip had been doing in the darkened elevator. Her cheeks went red as she remembered the way she’d responded to him. There was no telling what might have happened had the lights not come on when they did.

Carrie hurried out of the apartment and down the wind-blown street to the deli on the corner. It was lovely of Mackenzie to ask her to lunch and to create such a special invitation.

The deli, a neighborhood favorite, was busy. Inside, she was greeted by a variety of mouthwatering smells. Patrons lined up next to a glass counter that displayed sliced meats, cheeses and tempting salads. The refrigerator case was decorated with a plastic swag of evergreen, dotted with tiny red berries.

“Over here!” Carrie heard Mackenzie’s shout and glanced across the room to see the teenager on her feet, waving. The kid had been smart enough to claim a table, otherwise they might’ve ended up having to wait.

Carrie gestured back and made her way between the tables and chairs to meet her. Not until she reached the back of the room did she realize that Mackenzie wasn’t alone.

Philip sat with his daughter. His eyes revealed his shock at seeing Carrie there, as well.

“Oh, good, I was afraid you were going to be late,” Mackenzie said, handing her a menu. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll get in line and order it.”

Briefly Carrie toyed with the idea of canceling, but that would’ve disappointed Mackenzie, which she didn’t want to do. Philip had apparently reached the same conclusion.

“Remember I’m on a limited budget,” Mackenzie reminded them, speaking loudly to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the deli. “But you don’t have to order peanut butter and jelly, either.”

“I’ll take a pastrami on whole wheat, hold the pickle, extra mustard.”

Carrie set her menu aside. “Make that two.”

“You like pastrami, too?” Mackenzie asked, making it sound incredible that two people actually found the same kind of sandwich to their liking.

“You’d better go line up,” Philip advised his daughter.

“Okay, I’ll be back before you know it.” She smiled before she left, expertly weaving between tables.

Carrie unwound the wool scarf from her neck and removed her jacket. She could be adult about this. While it was true that they hadn’t expected to run into each other, she could cope.

The noise around them was almost deafening, but the silence between them seemed louder. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she said, “It’s very sweet of Mackenzie to do this.”

“Don’t be fooled,” he returned gruffly. “Mackenzie knew exactly what she was doing.”

“And what was that?” Carrie hated to be defensive, but she didn’t like his tone or his implication.

“She set this up so you and I would be forced to spend time together.”

He made it sound like a fate worse than high taxes. “Come on, Philip, I’m not such a terrible person.”

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s the problem.”

His words lifted her spirits. She took a bread stick from the tall glass in the middle of the table and broke it in half. “Are you suggesting I actually tempt you?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t go that far, so don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not.” She knew a bluff when she heard one. “If anyone should be flattered it’s you. First, I’m at least eight years younger than you, with endless possibilities when it comes to finding myself a man. What makes you think I’d be interested in an ill-tempered, unfriendly, almost middle-aged grump?”

He blinked. “Ouch.”

“Two can play that game, Philip.”

“What game?”

“I almost believed you, you know. You were taking advantage of the dark? Really, you might’ve been a bit more original.”

His eyes narrowed.

“But no one’s that good an actor. You’re attracted to me, but you’re scared to let go of the rein you’ve got on your emotions. I’m not sure what your problem is, but my guess is that it has to do with your divorce. So be it. If you’re content to spend the rest of your days alone, far be it from me to stop you.” She took a bite of the bread stick, chomping down hard.

Mackenzie had their order. She carried the tray above her head as she reversed her previous journey among the tables. Her eyes were bright with excitement when she rejoined them.

She handed one thick ceramic plate to Carrie. “Pastrami on whole wheat, no pickle and extra mustard.”

“Perfect,” Carrie said, taking the plate from her. She was grateful Mackenzie had returned when she did, unsure she could continue her own bluff much longer. As it was, Philip had no opportunity to challenge her statement, which was exactly the way she wanted it.

Mackenzie distributed the rest of the sandwiches, set the tray aside and flopped down in the seat between Carrie and Philip. “Don’t you just love the holidays?” she asked before biting into her sandwich.

Philip’s eyes locked with Carrie’s. “Sure do,” he said, but Carrie saw that he was gritting his teeth.

From the way Philip tore into the sandwich, anyone would think he hadn’t eaten in a week. It was as though they were taking part in a contest to see who’d finish first.

Philip won. The minute he swallowed the last bite, he stood, thanked his daughter and excused himself.

“He’s going back to work,” Mackenzie explained sadly as she watched her father leave. “He’s always going back to the office.”

“Inviting us both to lunch was very thoughtful of you,”

Carrie said, “but your father seems to think you asked us to suit your own purposes.”

Mackenzie lowered her gaze. “All right, I did, but is that such a bad thing? I like you better than anyone. It’s clear that my dad’s never going to get married again without my help. My parents have been divorced for three years now and he’s never even gone out on a real date.”

“Mackenzie, your father needs time.”

“Time? He’s had more than enough time! He can’t keep going through life like this. He’s put everything on hold while he tries to forget what my mother did. I want him to marry you.”

“Mackenzie!” Carrie exhaled sharply. She couldn’t allow the girl to believe that dealing with human emotions was this simple. “I can’t marry your father just because you want me to.”

“Don’t you like him?”

“Yes, I do, very much, but there’s so much more to marriage than me liking your father.”

“But he cares about you. I know he does, only he’s afraid to let it show.”

Carrie had already guessed as much, but that could be because she wanted to believe it so badly.

“My mom is really pretty,” Mackenzie said, and she lowered her gaze to her hands, which clutched a paper napkin. “I think she might’ve been disappointed that I look more like my dad’s side of the family than hers. She’s never said anything, but I had the feeling maybe she would’ve stayed married to my dad if I’d been prettier.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true.” Carrie’s heart ached at the pain she heard in the girl’s voice. “I used to feel those kinds of things, too. My dad never wanted anything to do with me. He never wrote or sent me a birthday gift or remembered me at Christmas, and I was convinced it was something I must have done.”

Mackenzie raised her eyes. “But you were a little kid when your parents divorced.”

“It didn’t matter. I felt that somehow I was the one to blame. But it didn’t have anything to do with me. And your parents didn’t divorce because you took after your father’s side of the family. Your parents’ problems had nothing to do with you.”

Mackenzie didn’t say anything for a long moment. “This is why I want you to marry my dad. You make me feel better. In the past couple weeks you’ve been more of a mom to me than my real mother ever was.”

Carrie reached out and silently squeezed Mackenzie’s hand.

The girl squeezed back. “I didn’t mention it last Saturday, but that was the first time I’ve ever baked homemade cookies. Dad helped me bake a cake once, but it came in a box.”

Carrie had suspected as much.

“I like the way we can sit down and talk. You seem to understand what’s in my heart,” Mackenzie murmured. “I’m probably the only girl in my school who knows how to crochet, even though all I can do is those snowflakes. You taught me that. The house is going to be finished soon, and Dad and I are going to move away. I’m afraid that if you don’t marry my dad, I’ll never see you again. Won’t you please, please marry my dad?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Carrie whispered and wrapped her arm around the girl’s neck. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on Mackenzie’s head. “It isn’t as simple as that. Couldn’t I just be your friend?”

Mackenzie sniffled and nodded. “Will you come visit me when we move?”

“You bet.”

“But Madame Frederick says my dad’s going to meet someone and—”

Carrie groaned inwardly. “Madame Frederick means well, and she’s a dear, dear person, but I’m going to tell you something that’s just between you and me.”

“Okay.” Mackenzie stared at her intently.

“Madame Frederick can’t really see anything in that crystal ball of hers.”

“But—”

“I know. She says what she thinks should happen or what she hopes will happen, and in doing so puts the idea in people’s minds. If her predictions come true, it’s because those people have steered the course of their lives in the direction she pointed.”

“But she seems so sure of things.”

“Her confidence is all part of the act.”

“In other words,” Mackenzie said after a thoughtful moment, “I shouldn’t believe anything she tells me.”