High Plains Hearts (19 page)

“There’s a note, too,” she prompted, willing her stomach to quit roiling. Of course he’d like the gift, she told herself. It was a terrific present. And with the note she hoped she captured what she meant by it.

He read it aloud: “ ‘ “It is a wonderful life.” ’ I’ll always remember tonight, especially watching the movie with you—and Cora, of course—snuggled up with me. Thank you, Tess.’ ”

He rang the bell and grinned. “Giving an angel a boost.”

She smiled at him, relieved that he understood the meaning of the bell. “I’m glad you like it.”

He leaned toward her and dropped a sweet kiss on her lips. “It’s perfect.”

He handed her his present, a small gold-wrapped box with lacy ribbon. Under the wrapping was a box with a well-known jeweler’s name emblazoned across it in gilt script, and she held her breath as she opened it.

It was a necklace. The fine gold chain held a cross that not only was a cross but, she realized as she examined it carefully, was also an angel. The two symbols were cleverly merged to form one shape.

His gaze did not leave her face.

“Like it?” he asked at last.

“I don’t know what to say. It’s way beyond anything I ever … I can’t …” She looked at him. “I don’t like it. I love it. Please put it on me.”

She turned so he could fasten the necklace around her neck. The cross caught the varicolored lights of the tree and flashed an entire paint box of colors.

From her vantage point on the couch, Cora snored softly in time to the music.

They leaned back and admired the tree, until Tess remembered something.

“Every year I add a new ornament to the tree, chosen to symbolize something about the year that I want to remember. And I hang it on the tree on Christmas Eve. I haven’t done that yet.”

She stood up and pointed to a cat angel. “This is for the year Cora came to live here. This apple represents the year I planted the tree in the back. And this easel symbolizes the year I took painting lessons. You’ll notice none of my paintings is displayed. I had fun but discovered I have absolutely no talent for painting.”

She took a white box from the mantel and opened it carefully.

“What is this year’s ornament?” he asked, craning his neck to peek inside the box.

“Just wait, Mr. Nosey-Parker.”

She carefully lifted the new decoration from the cotton batting that lined the box and held it for him to see.

He squinted his eyes. “I can’t quite make out what it is.”

She held the flat brass ornament toward the light of the tree.

“It’s the skyline of downtown. See? Here’s the courthouse, and here’s Saint Agatha’s, and this, I think, is the bank. An artist on Third Street made it. I couldn’t pass it up, since I became a member of the mayor’s commission this year.”

He was silent for a moment. “I thought we’d avoid that topic tonight.”

She paused in the act of hanging the ornament on the tree. “Avoid what topic?”

“Well,” he said, just a bit peevishly, “if I can’t talk about scientific proof, I don’t think it’s fair that you talk about the downtown thing.”

“Oh Jake. It’s not the same at—No. You’re right. It sort of is, isn’t it? But I didn’t mean it that way.”

She finished placing the ornament on the tree and sat back down. “Maybe for you, being active in the community is easy. For me it was extraordinarily difficult. I didn’t wait to be asked. I volunteered.”

She could tell by his expression that he didn’t understand why it had been such a major step for her.

“I’m not a naturally outgoing person.” As she said it, she remembered what an effort it had been for her to put her name on the list of applicants for the commission.

She continued, “It took an incredible amount of gathering my courage and putting my self-esteem on the line. What if the mayor said no? It wasn’t like I’m a financial big shot in town. I’m sure most people said, ‘Tess who?’ and ‘Angel’s what?’ So this symbolizes not so much the commission, but the step forward I took in getting there.”

He smiled. “I understand. That’s a great tradition. Do you mind if I borrow it?”

“Not at all, but don’t you think the decorations are going to be pretty well picked over at this late date?” she asked.

“Well, you may not be a financial wizard, but I sure am. On December 26 I’ll be able to shop for my ornament at half price!”

The grandfather clock reminded them time was passing quickly.

They walked to the back door, and she watched as he put on his boots and coat. He motioned her to him, and she went gladly.

“I can’t go without my Christmas kiss, now can I?” he asked.

She didn’t answer but raised her lips to his.

His arms stayed around her long after their lips had parted. His voice was almost a whisper when at last he spoke. “Have you given any more thought to what you might say if you could speak only on Christmas Eve?”

She nodded. “Have you?”

“Yes,” he said huskily. “I would say you are quickly becoming very special to me, and I want you near me throughout the year.”

She smiled drowsily. It was so warm and comfortable in the circle of his arms that she could stay there a day, a month, a year.

“So what would you say to me?” he prompted.

“I’d say, ‘Kiss me.’ ”

And he did.

T
he delicious smells of turkey roasting in the oven sent Cora into near fits of ecstasy. She wound herself around Tess’s legs again and again, stopping only to meow plaintively.

“Yes, yes, Sweetie-Cat,” Tess crooned. “You will have a big chunk of this turkey all to yourself. But right now it has to cook. Be patient.”

Patient
was a word totally alien to Cora’s vocabulary. She meowed even louder, and Tess looked around the kitchen frantically to find something that might appease the cat until dinnertime.

Evaporated milk might work. She had made fudge earlier in the day, and, as always, a bit of milk was left over. Cora inhaled it and begged for more.

Luckily Tess had bought two cans so she brought down the spare from the cupboard. “Okay, Cora, my dear. Drink up, and please, please, please go sleep by the register and leave me alone!”

Thus bribed, Cora wandered off to her spot by the floor heating register where she had the added bonus of mid-morning sunshine flowing in through the window.

Tess smiled benevolently at her cat. “Heat below, heat above. And a full tummy to boot, with the promise of turkey forthcoming. You lead a tough life, Cora-Cat.”

She studied the recipe for truffles, her next Christmas expedition into cooking. She’d gotten the recipe from a lady at church who had since moved away. Although her version would never rival the chocolate truffle elegance she’d been served at Whispering Winds, it was impressive enough to have become her signature piece at Christmas gatherings.

Plus it was breathtakingly easy.

She had just combined the ingredients, shaped the chocolate mixture into balls, and begun rolling them in ground nuts when the phone rang.

“Merry Christmas.” Jake’s voice was a warm embrace on a cold day.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she answered. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like the proverbial log.” He chuckled. “Guess that would be the Yule log, huh?”

She smiled. His good humor was one of his best attributes. Suddenly she wanted him there very much.

“When are you coming over?” she asked.

“Soon. I just have to—”

“Where are you?” she asked, as a terrible suspicion surfaced in her mind.

“Um, well, I, um—”

His hedging didn’t deter her. “You’re at Panda’s, aren’t you?”

“Tess, honey.” His voice was soft with suppressed laughter. “I stopped by to pick up some coffee for our dinner. You didn’t expect me to drink that washy bilgewater you call coffee, did you?”

How could she have thought he’d be at work on a glorious day like Christmas? “I’m sorry,” she said, truly apologetic she had doubted him. “But can you pick up a mild blend, please? I don’t want to be awake until New Year’s Day!”

“Wimp,” he bantered back. He ended by saying he’d be at her house in thirty minutes.

Tess took one look around her kitchen where a major war had apparently just been fought. Used dishes were piled in the sink and trailed across the counter.

“Thirty minutes!” she said to herself, pushing her hair back with a hand that was, she realized too late, sticky with chocolate.

“I need a shower and the kitchen needs a—well, I guess it needs a power wash, but vanity wins. Into the shower it is,” she said to a snoring Cora, who could have cared less what the kitchen looked like, as long as it produced a turkey at some point in the day.

Her hair was still in damp tendrils when Jake arrived, his arms full of bundles. “Cute,” he said, pulling on an escaping curl from behind her ear. “New hairdo?”

“The wet look,” she explained, taking the packages from him. “What do you have in all of these, by the way? You know I do have a turkey basting away in the oven.”

“Better than wasting away, I guess,” he responded, kissing her lightly on the nose. “These boxes are filled with Christmas cookies that will lose their seasonal oomph if we don’t eat them sometime soon, so they’re my contribution to the day’s festivities.”

The aroma of the turkey beckoned them back to the kitchen. Jake gave a low whistle at the sight that met his eyes.

“Is this classic or what?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, reminded of the impeccability of Panda’s kitchen area.

“Whenever my mom and grandma and aunts and whoever else gathered in the kitchen, they cooked like crazy. There were always a lot of cooks, and none of them, not a one of them, would wash a dish.”

“So what did they do, throw them away?” It was a curious idea, but as she glanced around her chaotic kitchen it gained ground as a possibility.

He shook his head. “No. Mom always said if you eat, you clean up.” He rolled up the sleeves of his deep turquoise sweater in readiness.

“Oh no, really, you don’t have to,” she objected, but not too strenuously as he quickly assumed his post at the sink. She’d always resisted an automatic dishwasher, telling herself it was a useless expense when the only mouths fed there were hers and Cora’s. But now it seemed as if it would probably be worth every penny of its cost.

He was remarkably fast, and soon he had the kitchen restored to rights.

The table was laid with an embroidered cloth that had been her great-grandparents’, and the china was also three generations old. She felt a sacredness about sitting down to a table thus arrayed, and she identified every piece of table service, every bit of linen, for Jake.

“It’s an honor to be seated here,” he said reverently as his long fingers smoothed a napkin decorated with fine threads outlining a silhouetted Bethlehem.

He surprised her. He took her hand in his and asked, “Would you say grace?”

“Of course.” She smiled, then bowed her head. “Dearest Lord, on this happy day of Your birth we celebrate the gifts of Christmas. First is the greatest gift of all—the gift of life. A baby’s arrival is always a time of excitement and anticipation, and it is with shining eyes that we see the gift in the manger. We welcome You, Lord, into our hearts again. Make us as new as Yourself, free to see with eyes that do not know hatred but look ahead only with expectation. Lord, we thank You for the gift of each other, for friendship, for fellowship, and for love. Happy birthday, Lord, and welcome! Amen!”

“Amen.” He raised his head and looked at her, his deep chocolate-hued eyes warm with emotion. “And I also want to thank you for inviting me over today. I’m afraid it would have been a very lonely day for me without this.”

“And for me,” Tess agreed softly. “Sometimes I rattle around in here by myself—”

Cora meowed loudly from beneath the table, and Tess and Jake both laughed.

“Well, maybe not by myself,” Tess corrected herself. “By myself and supervised at all times by my watch cat, the incomparable Cora.”

Cora demanded—and received—her allotment of turkey, and after Tess nixed the idea of clearing the dishes, let alone washing them, the three of them plopped onto the couch in the living room.

“There are probably some television programs on that would be good to watch,” Jake said.

“Probably. Do you know of any?” Tess asked, too lazy and stuffed with turkey and other goodies to get up and check the television schedule that lay three inches from her grasp.

“Dunno,” came the answer from the other end of the couch. “Do you know, Cora?”

The cat gave a perfectly timed sigh, followed by gentle, even snoring.

“She sounds happy,” Jake said, still motionless on his end of the couch.

“Why shouldn’t she be? She’s transformed us into her idea of perfection. Look at us—we’ve become cats.” She patted her full tummy.

“You’re right. I can’t move. And I don’t care.” He groaned.

“Meow.” Tess’s eyes began to drift shut.

He flung his hand out. “Okay. I’ll assert my right as the reigning male here. Give me the remote control.”

Jake set the television to a station that was showing
A Christmas Carol
and meandered out to the kitchen to make some coffee.

“Mild,” Tess reminded him as she trailed after him. “I want to wake up now, but eventually I do plan to sleep again.”

She arranged the cookies he’d brought on a tray and added her truffles. “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she said as they took the tray and the coffee into the living room. “I don’t have any more room in my stomach.”

“I know what you mean,” Jake said, nibbling on a sugar cookie. “I’m so stuffed I couldn’t eat another bite.” He popped one of her truffles in his mouth. “Wow! Where did these come from? These are great!”

“I made them,” she said proudly.

“Can I have the recipe for the restaurant?” he asked eagerly. “They’d be a great seller.”

She demurred as gently as possible. How could she tell him they were made from canned frosting and a few other common ingredients?

Fortunately his attention was diverted by the television, where the Ghost of Jacob Marley was rattling his chains at a terrified Ebenezer Scrooge.