You and Only You (22 page)

The house smelled like fresh paint and varnish. The fading sunlight shone weakly through the windows he’d washed days earlier. It looked like a home and felt like a jail. It would have made his life a whole lot simpler if this had been money in his pocket, not a remodel job he had yet to flip.

His footsteps echoed in the house as he walked through to the kitchen. He’d been here for weeks, repairing, painting, fixing wiring and windows, and it still felt foreign, almost as if the house itself rejected his presence. He’d brought it back to its former glory, but he’d done more harm in this house with a single act of rape than his uncle Gene had ever thought about in the sixty-seven years he’d lived there.

He dropped the ribs onto the table and opened the whiskey, chugging down enough to set his belly on fire before he sat down with a thump.

“Sorry-ass bitch called the cops on me,” he muttered, and tore into the ribs like a starving dog.

He ate ribs and fries until there was nothing left but bones, then took the whiskey with him to the living room. He kicked back in the recliner, turned on the TV, and took another swig.

By midnight, he was passed out in the chair, the empty bottle on the floor, the remote in his lap, while QVC kept selling laptops with a frantic promise to deliver by Christmas.

He woke up the next morning with a hangover of massive proportions and a growing grudge against the tall blond bitch. He wanted her to pay. He wanted to see that disdain replaced with fear. He wanted to hear her scream and beg for mercy.

* * *

By the time the first diners arrived at the community center, LilyAnn was in full holiday mode. The tables had been covered with white paper and decorated with little red sleighs filled with candy and artificial poinsettias. The Christmas tree had been set up in a corner of the room, and the presents beneath wrapped in red gift paper for little boys, green gift paper for little girls, gold gift paper for teens, and sturdy tote bags of canned goods and fruit for the adults.

Her sweatshirt was a hit, as was the glittering halo on her head. The Christmas tree image on her shirt mirrored the one in the corner, right down to the colored blinking lights. Her slacks were winter white, and her flats metallic gold.

The reporter from the
Blessings
Bugle
took her picture as she was carrying plates of food for a woman with children, but she didn’t know it and wouldn’t have cared whether they took one or not. This was the best she’d felt in years, and it was because the last person she was thinking about was herself.

Both Vesta and Vera Conklin were also helping serve and had come decked out in brown sweaters and slacks with little antler headbands and red noses. Twin versions of a female Rudolph. The kids loved it and the sisters were playing it to the hilt.

Ruby’s homage to the festivities of the day was elf ears and a little green elf hat.

Mabel Jean was set up in a corner of the room with a tray of face paint, dressed in red and white stripes and doing her part to entertain the children.

About an hour into it, LilyAnn paused to take in the sight. The tables were full of people eating and talking. It reminded her of what a family reunion was like. The ones where you know some of the people very well, while a few more look familiar, and the others are people you’ve never seen before.

What she couldn’t get over was that every one of these people lived in Blessings and had qualified for this meal because they lived at or below the poverty line. She suddenly felt very grateful for her life, no matter how screwed up it had become.

Ruby came up behind her and gave her a quick hug.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming to help.”

“Oh, Sister, you have no idea how grateful I am to be here.”

“I love your Christmas tree sweatshirt, but with that halo, you look like the angel topper on it, for sure. Oh… hey, I see that table on the far side needs drinks refilled. Can you go do that for me?”

“Absolutely,” LilyAnn said. She grabbed two pitchers of sweet tea and took off.

What LilyAnn didn’t know was that Ruby wasn’t through meddling in her and Mike’s lives.

About an hour after LilyAnn had called asking to volunteer, the man scheduled to be Ruby’s Santa Claus called to say he had been taken ill, leaving Ruby without a Santa for the dinner.

And the moment she realized LilyAnn was on her own, she guessed Mike Dalton would be, as well. And he was. After a quick selling job on how disappointed the kids would all be, he agreed. It was Ruby’s little secret, and yet one more event in which he and LilyAnn would be thrown together. And maybe, just maybe, this time they would get it right.

* * *

The community center was packed, and people were visiting among themselves when they began hearing the sound of bells jingling, and then there was a great big thump on the roof, and then a loud, hearty voice saying, “Ho, ho, ho.”

The kids who had been running amok were suddenly motionless, their mouths agape, their eyes wide with expectation. Someone pointed to the hall at the back of the room as the doors began to open, and then a big, fat Santa Claus came through the door, laughing as he walked.

LilyAnn was in shock. The moment she heard that laugh, she knew it was Mike. Even before she saw him—even beneath that full white beard and the wig and hat, even beneath the big fat belly and the red fuzzy suit—she knew it was him.

She sat down in the nearest empty chair with her heart in her throat, watching as Ruby seated him beside the tree. And then she remembered that the servers would also be Santa’s helpers, which meant she was not going to be able to keep her distance.

And sure enough, the moment Santa was seated, Ruby signaled for them to come up.

“God give me strength,” Lily muttered, and headed for the front of the room.

Mike was actually having fun with this. As he was waiting for all the servers to reach the front of the room, he noticed one woman wearing a halo, but he could only see her silhouette, backlit by the light from the windows behind her. When she walked out of the backlight and he got a better view, his gut knotted.

LilyAnn. Well, hell, of course it would be her. I cannot escape her because I am not supposed to. I get it, God. I get it.

He refused to meet her gaze because he’d never get through the task ahead without total concentration, but when he saw the lights flashing on her sweatshirt, he stifled a smile.

Then the first child slipped up and put a hand on his knee, and he got down to business.

Mike looked down, saw the awe in the little boy’s eyes, and realized the importance of what he was doing. He picked the boy up and set him on his knee.

“Ho, ho, ho. Hello, young man. What’s your name?”

The little boy frowned. “It’s me, Billy! Don’t you recognize me?”

Oops, nearly blew that one.
“Well, Billy, you’ve grown so much I didn’t recognize you.”

The little boy’s expression lightened. “Oh yeah, that’s what Grandma said, too.”

Mike patted him on the back. “So, have you been a good boy this year?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Most of the time.”

“Good for you,” Mike said, and took the present Vesta handed him and gave it to Billy. “Merry Christmas, Billy.”

“Merry Christmas, Santa Claus!”

Billy was all smiles as the photographer took his picture. Then he hopped down from Mike’s lap and ran toward his mother as another child took his place.

As the time went on, the children were so charming in their innocence that LilyAnn forgot it was Mike beneath the beard and got lost in their stories.

By the time a second child had wet on Mike’s pant legs, LilyAnn was struggling not to laugh. If it hadn’t been for the swift action of one mother, another would have thrown up in his lap. The photographer had whipped cream on the back of his pants after a little boy who’d been eating pie with his fingers used the man’s pants for a napkin, and Vesta gave up her reindeer antlers to a little girl with curly brown hair, just so she would sit in Santa’s lap long enough for a picture.

After two hours of kids, presents, and pictures, it was finally over, and LilyAnn was convinced that—even though the only present she opened had been in a FedEx box, even though the only food she’d eaten had been a mini-ham sandwich made with a cold dinner roll and a scrap of ham at home—she’d never had a better Christmas in her life. And, despite his best intentions, she’d still spent it with Mike.

She’d already said her good-byes and was on her way out the back when she heard someone calling her name. She turned to see Santa Claus lumbering down the hall.

“LilyAnn! Wait!”

She stopped, uncertain what to expect and unwilling for this to be another bad experience because she didn’t want to ruin this day.

Mike was puffing when he finally reached her.

“I have to take this off, and I need to talk to you. Will you come with me?”

“Are you going to be mad at me? Because if you are, I don’t want to hear it. This has been a nearly perfect day, and I don’t want it ruined.”

The tremor in her voice was nearly Mike’s undoing. He poked her halo just enough to make it sway, then shook his head.

“No, I won’t be mad, and I won’t ruin your day.”

“Then okay,” she said, and followed him into the office.

He began peeling off the Santa suit one piece at a time.

“Wow, it is hot and itchy under all that,” he said, scrubbing his hands against his face, then shedding the rest of the suit until he was left in gym shorts and a T-shirt.

LilyAnn had seen him in this getup all her life, but all of a sudden she was hit with the intimacy of watching him undress and took herself to a chair on the other side of the room and sat down. He put a tracksuit on over the shorts and tee, then changed back into his tennis shoes. Once he was dressed, he pulled up a chair in front of her and sat down.

“I have a question to ask you,” he said.

“So ask,” Lily said.

“Is T. J. Lachlan stalking you?”

She sighed. “Pretty much.”

“Since when?”

“Well, you saw it. Since Thanksgiving Day.”

“Did you two have a fight or something? Is that why he’s acting like that?”

LilyAnn frowned. “A fight? We’ve never even been introduced! I’ve waited on him in the pharmacy and never even exchanged a hello. Yes, I knew who he was, and yes, we’ve all seen and heard that hot rod he drives, but I don’t know him. And what I do know, I don’t like.”

“Son of a bitch,” Mike mumbled. “So, I owe you this huge apology because I got the idea you liked him and…”

All of a sudden LilyAnn stood up. She didn’t want to have this conversation in the office at the local community center because she didn’t know where it was going to go. She needed the privacy of her own home if the need became necessary to cry…or if she was lucky…to get a hug and a kiss.

“So, now the mystery is solved. Now you know I don’t like him.”

Mike panicked. She was about to bolt and he’d barely begun.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“Home. I haven’t really eaten, and I have gravy in my shoe. I’ll repeat the invitation I offered the other night. Do you want to have Christmas dinner with me?”

Mike’s heart skipped a beat as he smiled.

“Yes, I would like to have dinner with you.”

LilyAnn sighed. “Good. It’s your own fault it will be scrambled eggs and toast.”

“I like scrambled eggs and toast.”

And just like that, her world was once again intact.

“So, I’m going home now. See you in a few minutes?”

He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he settled for cupping her cheek.

“Yep. See you soon. I’m going to drop this suit off at the mayor’s house. His grandchildren are due in tonight and unfortunately for him, he has to play Santa Claus for them in the morning in a suit that smells like pee. I’ll be right there afterward. It’ll give you time to get the gravy out of your shoe.”

LilyAnn laughed, and as she did, the halo bounced from side to side, sprinkling just the tiniest bits of glitter down into her hair.

Mike was certain he’d never seen anything quite as beautiful, but he couldn’t say it for the lump in his throat. She waved good-bye and then went out the door, leaving him to pack up the suit.

LilyAnn’s heart was as light as her steps as she ran across the parking lot to her car. It was just after 4:15. If she hurried, she could get biscuits in the oven before Mike arrived. And maybe fry some bacon and make a little gravy. By the time she pulled into the driveway at her house, she had a whole meal of breakfast for supper prepared in her mind. All she had to do was make it happen.

* * *

T. J. Lachlan had come to a Christmas Eve conclusion that it was time to get out of Blessings. He’d already had a conversation with Hank Richards, his Realtor, about going back to his home in Tennessee. He didn’t like being the outsider, or treated like some damn pariah. Every time he thought about LilyAnn Bronte, she brought Laverne to mind, which set his teeth on edge. They both had acted like high-falutin’ bitches who needed to be taken down a notch, and while he hadn’t been able to enact any kind of revenge on Buddy and Laverne, he could and would set a new course for the Bronte woman before he left, and he would make sure she would, by God, never forget his name.

When Christmas morning came, he began to pack. It was nearly noon when he left a key to the house underneath a rock near the back door and loaded his bags into his truck. He wanted to go home, but had to dismantle LilyAnn and her high and mighty attitude first.

He knew he was taking a risk, but he’d lived his whole life on the edge and gotten away with it. He had no reason to assume his luck would fail him now. The only uncertainty he still had, as he took a back road into Blessings, was if she would be home. If she was, he
was
going to take her off that high horse she liked to ride and take her down in a most humiliating manner, just like she’d done to him.

He cruised by her neighborhood and smiled when he saw her car gone, as was the car in the drive next to hers. He whipped his truck into the alley, thankful for the six-foot-high privacy fences on both sides, and parked at the gate leading into her backyard.