The Christmas Wish (5 page)

“A bus stop. A place where you hang out for a while before the bus comes and you leave.”

“What are you—? I’m not waiting for a bus, Tess. I’m not leaving.”

“Yes, you are. You said you weren’t staying here forever. You’re going to leave to make something of yourself.” Her eyes were glistening with tears. “You’ll take what you need just like every man does, and then you’ll go. It’s the same. I get it! I’m the bus stop, not the destination. And then the bus will come and you’ll get on and go and you’ll never look back—”

“STOP!” he yelled, his eyes burning and his nostrils flaring with sadness and pain and fury. He ran his hands through his hair then fisted them by his sides. “That is not true, and it’s not fair. I’m sorry other guys dumped on you and used you and didn’t stick around to figure out how damn wonderful you are, but you’re
not
my bus stop, you crazy-making woman. You
are
the destination. You have to believe that.”

“Why? Why do I have to believe it?”

“Because it’s true, damn it. Because you’re searching my eyes like they hold the key to the universe and you can see it’s true. I’m in this for your heart. I’ll keep it safe. Don’t you see that?”

“Safe! For how long? For tonight? For a week? For a month? Certainly not forever. One day you’re going to get up and go. And ‘safe’ will be as big a joke as Tess Branson! And I’m going to get hurt, Lucas! This time it’s going to hurt!”

“You know what sucks, Tess? People have treated you like trash for so long, you believe it. You buy it. You don’t think you deserve someone who treats you decent, who sees your goodness, who loves you, who wants—”

Her quick intake of breath and wide, shocked eyes made him stop speaking.
What?
And then it occurred to him. He was
yelling
at her. For a while now. An ugly ex-con who once beat someone’s brains in was yelling at her. Probably scaring her to death. Scaring Tess.
His
Tess.

He took a deep breath and counted to ten before speaking softly. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. But you know what, Tess? If you can’t trust me, if you can’t even
try
see yourself the way I see you…? Ain’t no chance this woulda worked out anyhow.”

He gave her one last look of frustrated longing, but her face was frozen in shock so he turned and walked back inside, leaving her alone just like she wanted.

***

Who loves you. Who loves you. Who loves you. Who loves you.

Who loves…you.

You, Tess.

She stared at the kitchen door gape-mouthed for several more minutes before turning back to the railing and clutching it in her gloved hands. He’d yelled that he loved her. She didn’t care if he yelled at her every day for the rest of her life as long as those were the words he yelled.

He loved her? She smiled into the darkness at the words that changed everything.

Her ridiculous wish—the wish he’d told her to make on a star—had suddenly, unbelievably, come true. She’d clenched her eyes shut that night and before she could stop the thought from forming in her head, she’d heard the words: I wish for someone to love me. He’d been right, after all.
Wishes do come true at Christmastime.

She took a deep breath of the fresh, cold mountain air, wondering how those blinking Christmas lights in the distance had gotten so much closer in a week. He
loved
her. But, poor Lucas. She’d been so untrusting, so suspicious. All she wanted, all her life, was to belong to someone who would want her, love her, and when it was finally in front of her, she’d doubted it. How could she make it up to him? How could she let him know how much she loved him too?

Christmas was the thing I missed the most…

She clapped her hands together, a smile spreading across her face as she stared at the Christmas lights brightening the darkness. She was taking the day off tomorrow whether Stu liked it or not. Heck, she’d quit and go work somewhere else if it came to that. She needed to go back to the Target in Bozeman.

She had some Christmas shopping to do.

***

Lucas hated the way they’d left things on Tuesday night, hated that she hadn’t come in to work on Wednesday and hated that today was Christmas Eve and she’d barely glanced at him since walking into work at eleven. The only thing he was marginally glad about, pathetically, was just being near her at all. But that did little to suppress the deep ache in his heart which left him distracted and breathless and despairing.

He didn’t know what else he could have done. He’d tried to show her how he felt about her. Tried to make it clear that he didn’t care about her past, that he wanted her for her heart first, not just her body. Tried to show her respect and kindness, and look where it had gotten him: broken-hearted and alone.

If he’d never known the way it felt for her to smile into his eyes, for her to touch his face, kiss his lips, tell him that she believed in him, it might have been bearable for him to anticipate Christmas Eve and Day all alone. He might have even accepted the Andersons’ invitation to join them for Christmas dinner and just felt grateful to be included. But he didn’t want to be with anyone but Tess, and if he couldn’t be with her, he’d hole up in his dank room and wait it out. Wait out his first Christmas of freedom since beating up Roy, since his incarceration, since Joey’s death. He’d read or listen to music, or heck, maybe he’d just get drunk. Whatever he did, he’d do it alone, and he’d try not to think about Tess Branson.

“Lucas.”

He jumped at the sound of her voice, surprised that she was behind the warming counter and so close to him. Waitresses weren’t allowed in the cooking area.

She still had her cardigan on, modestly buttoned up with just a bit of her neck showing up top. She still had that black ribbon in her light blond hair too. The one she’d worn on Monday night. It made his heart ache to see it. Why couldn’t she see herself the way he saw her? Why couldn’t she see that she was kind and good and had her whole life in front of her? She didn’t think she was someone worth having. Someone worth staying with. Leave her? Hell, he’d never leave her if she belonged to him. He’d build his whole life around her. But she was so convinced she was worthless she wouldn’t even give them a chance.

“What?” he said.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she replied softly.

“So?”

“What’re you doing tonight?”

“Nothing,” he answered, turning back to the grill.

“Lucas,” she said again.

“What?”
he growled, facing her, angry with her for making him love her only to leave him all alone in it, wanting her, missing her.

She gave him a gentle smile, despite his tone, like it didn’t bother her a bit. “Come over at eight.”

Then she turned and walked away.

***

Tess wasn’t sure he’d show up. Stu had closed the Blue Moon at three o’clock after the lunch rush, but Lucas had hurried out the back door and she’d missed him. Whether he deliberately tried to avoid her she didn’t know, but she tried not to think about it. She wasn’t able to ask if he was planning to come over or not. But, she hoped he would. Lord, how she hoped.

The inside of her house looked like Santa’s Workshop. She’d spent two paychecks’ savings at Target on Wednesday buying up any and every Christmas decoration that would fit into her small car. A fully-decorated Christmas tree stood in the picture window, which was also roped with multicolored twinkle lights. The mantel over the fireplace was draped with greens, white lights and bright red blown glass balls that caught the lights and sparkled. Every available table and countertop had a festive music box, Santa or snowman, and a small army of nutcrackers had invaded the china cabinet in the dining room.

She checked her watch. Seven-fifty. She lit the candles on the coffee table and pressed play on the CD player and then the DVD player, which she’d set to mute. Simon & Garfunkel sang “The Star Carol,” while on TV George Bailey raced through Bedford Falls, waving to friends and family on Christmas Eve.

She checked on the small tray she’d laid out on the kitchen table: two cups, a small bottle of rum, a jar of nutmeg and a small plate of homemade Christmas cookies. She’d even put a sprig of holly beside the plate, just for a little extra cheer. The eggnog was chilling in the fridge and—

The doorbell rang and she jumped a foot. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. He was here. He had come after all. She smoothed the cream pants she’d worn on Monday night, now coupled with a new red cowl-neck angora sweater she’d bought along with the decorations. She closed her eyes and smiled in relief, then forced herself not to run to the front door.

Lucas stood on her front doorstep holding a wrapped gift in one hand and a poinsettia in the other. He offered her a tentative smile, as though he wasn’t sure what to expect. She almost sighed aloud, she was so glad to see him, so glad that their quarrel was behind them.

“Merry Christmas, Lucas,” she said.

“You got a tree,” he realized, peeking around her. “Can I come in and see it?”

“Yes! Yes, please, come in!” She stepped aside to make room for him in the small front hallway. She was nervous. Goodness gracious, she was so nervous.

He handed her the plant. “It’s for your mom. I didn’t know if she—”

“She’s at church,” said Tess, taking it from him. “She sings in the choir at eight, nine-thirty and midnight on Christmas Eve.”

“That’s a lot of church. None for you?” he asked, grinning as he unwound his scarf from his neck and handed her his jacket.

“I went at four…when the little ones go,” she added, hanging up his coat, trying not to ogle him in those new-looking jeans and a pressed white dress shirt. “Make yourself at home.”

She closed the closet and turned toward the living room. He was standing next to the Christmas tree, clutching a wrapped present under one arm with red paper and a big gold bow.

“I love it,” he whispered, staring at the ornaments, reaching out gingerly here and there to touch them.

“That’s good,” she said softly, approaching him and finally stopping beside him. “Because it’s yours. It’s all for you.”

“Tess.” He turned slowly, his face pained, his eyes searching.

She swallowed before continuing. It would be hard for her to say words she’d never said before. But she had to say them. She had to be sure he knew how she felt about him. “For Christmas I wanted to give you…Christmas. Lucas, you’ve said a lot of beautiful things to me, but it’s hard for me. I want to believe you so much. That you could want me. That you could possibly…”

Her voice broke and she swallowed again, rubbing her hands together, forcing herself not to look away from him. “Want me. But I’m going to trust you. I’m going to try. And I just wanted to say…for however long you stay, for as long as you’re here in Gardiner, I just want to be with you. J-just you, and, I mean, I just wondered if…if you’d let me. I love you?”

He winced, holding her eyes. His voice was breathy, strangled. “
Let
you?”

Tess nodded, taking a step toward him. He placed the present he was holding on the coffee table behind her and pulled her against him, leaning his head into her neck. She could feel his jaw clench and unclench.

“‘Let you!’” he breathed again. “As though you need my permission to love me back when I love you so much it hurts. I’ve watched you pack up a little extra food for someone down on his luck, ooh and ahh over some drawing a little kid colored for you. I’ve seen your patience when people are mean to you, the way you still have a kind word the next time they come by for a meal. I think I’m jealous of that old mutt you feed out back behind the loading dock now and then, the way you speak to him all sweet and scratch behind his ears like he’s still worth something.” She felt his breath, hot and soft on the skin of her neck as he inhaled and sighed. “For so long I’ve barely wasted a wish hoping for something good, even though I want it. So when I found it—when I found
you,
Tess—how could I keep myself from loving you?”

He drew back, looking into her eyes, smiling at her like she was the rarest, most precious thing in the world. Then he tilted his head and dropped his lips to hers, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth and making her knees go weak as he held her tightly against his body. When he finally leaned back, his eyes were heavy-lidded, like he was drunk. He grinned at her, shaking his head back and forth like she was amazing to him. That’s how he made her feel, too; by some miracle, Lucas Flynn made Tess Branson feel like
she
was amazing.

“Thank you for giving me Christmas, Kitten,” he continued. “For giving me your heart. Especially because I know you’re still worried about me leaving.” He tilted his head, looking into her eyes, searching them. “I want to give you your present, too. Is that okay?”

Tess smiled and nodded, taking Lucas’s hand and pulling him down next to her on the couch. He took the large square gift from the coffee table and put it on her lap. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a Christmas present from anyone but her mother. She grinned up at him before tearing away the paper to find…a book. No, she realized as she turned it over, not a book but an album. She flipped it open to the cover page.

Neatly printed she read: FOR TESS, ON OUR FIRST CHRISTMAS.

And on the opposite page: THE BEST THINGS ABOUT BILLINGS.

She looked up at him and he smiled. “I ran out of work so I could spend a couple hours at the library before they closed. I needed to use the computer there.”

He reached over and turned the page. On the left side was a picture of the largest theater in Billings.

“That’s the NOVA,” he explained. “They do Broadway shows and operas there.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I recognize it from pictures.”

On the right side was a picture of a large glass building. “That’s the—”

“The Yellowstone Art Museum,” Tess finished, running her fingers over the pictures he’d printed of the building and various works of art on display there. She looked up at him and smiled, overwhelmed and trembling, her heart beating painfully in her chest. Lucas turned the page, and she looked down to find a collage of microbreweries on the left. She chuckled.