Lovestruck in Los Angeles (13 page)

Were Thomas and I boring?

Around six o’clock everyone got bundled up to walk down to the church for Christmas Eve services. Paul seemed a bit more sobered up by then, though he was quiet and drawn in his armchair in the corner. I wondered if he might skip out on church, but he joined everyone in the hall to pull on coats and Wellies.

The Harpers lived just outside a little village on the outskirts of Edinburgh. The area around their house was hilly, barren fields stretching off in all directions. As we neared the village, though, more and more cottages and houses came into view. The church itself appeared to be about a million years old, made from stone and wooden beams. It even smelled old on the inside, though not unpleasantly so. The Harpers seemed to know every single person in the parish, stopping to chat and introduce me so many times that I lost cost. Finally we ended up in their family pew.

I had loved going to church since I was a little girl. Samuel and Laura used to complain loudly when we had to sit in the sanctuary for the service before Sunday school started, but I secretly loved it. Loved that my family took up an entire pew just to ourselves, loved that I could see cousins and aunts and uncles dotted across the rest of the congregation. I loved the music, the choir. Loved the stained glass windows and the aged yellow bricks. The way people spoke so reverentially, their voices echoing all the way up to the ceiling.

Thomas’s church felt like that. Sure, it was about ten times smaller than the Cathedral we attended at home. And the service was Anglican, not Catholic. I wasn’t familiar with the schedule of worship, not the way I could recite mass in my sleep. And there were only a handful of people I knew in the room, unlike the dozens in church at home.

But the important things were the same. The way the place felt sacred. The way I could practically feel the love between the people sitting around me. The way a special hush seemed to fall over the room as the candles were lit. When the congregation began to sing “Silent Night,” I felt tears come to my eyes, and Thomas reached over to take my hand in his firm, strong grasp. I smiled over at him, and he smiled right back, his love as clear in his eyes as I was sure mine was all over my face.

Yes, the important things were the same.

***

Back at home I was used to a huge meal and lots of gift giving on Christmas Eve, but the Harpers saved their main celebration for the next day. I woke up to delicious smells of coffee and cinnamon.

“Thomas, I will give you a hundred dollars if you go get some coffee,” I murmured into my pillow. He surprised me by sitting up immediately—he was usually pretty much impossible to get out of bed in the morning.

“Happy Christmas, Lizzie,” he said, brushing my hair off my shoulder so he could lean down and kiss my skin. “Come on, get up.”

I moaned. “Why? It’s too early.”

“It’s Christmas morning,” he said, as if he was talking to someone without a grasp on the language. “Christmas morning, Lizzie! That means presents! Come on, get up.”

“You’re as bad as my nieces and nephews.” I pulled myself into a sitting position. “Merry Christmas,” I said through a yawn.

Thomas didn’t give me much time to wake up, pulling me from the bed and tossing my robe at me before I even had a chance to rub my eyes. “Am I allowed to go to the bathroom first?” I asked, my arms crossed. “Or will that take to much time?”

He flopped back on the bed dramatically. “Go on.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I went to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. When I got back to the room, Thomas was waiting eagerly by the door. His face lit up at the sight of me, and soon he was tugging my hand until we reached the kitchen.

“Happy Christmas!” Anne said, turning to us as we entered. She was wearing a red fleece robe and wonky handmade slippers while flipping bacon at the stove. We both kissed her before grabbing mugs and pouring ourselves some coffee.

“Are we the first ones up?” I asked, looking around the still and empty room.

She laughed. “Thomas is always the first one up on Christmas morning. Always. I’m surprised if he sleeps at all.

He hung his head a little, looking sheepish. “It’s true. I’m a sucker for presents and yummy things to eat.”

I laughed. With his sleep-mussed hair and bright red flannel pajama bottoms, he looked more like a little boy than an internationally known movie star. “I didn’t notice you this eager last year,” I said.

“Last year I was hanging on for dear life. Trying not to be buried under a sea of cousins and aunties trying to kiss me.”

I laughed, trying hard to ignore the pang in my chest at the mention of Christmas at home. I looked at the clock and counted backward in my head, feeling better immediately. No one in Detroit was awake yet. Somehow the fact that I would be celebrating Christmas while they were still snug in bed made it feel less real—less like I was missing it.

The rest of the family, minus Paul, joined us a few minutes later, drawn by the smell of bacon and coffee. We took our breakfasts out to the living room to eat in front of the fire. “You were right about these scones,” I told Gilbert, and his chest puffed up considerably.

“Well, shall we do presents, then?” Anne asked, looking worriedly at the clock. Paul was still upstairs, probably sleeping off his hangover.

“I’ll go get him,” Bryony said, stretching as she stood. “Some coffee might do him good.”

Once we were all gathered, Gilbert began to distribute the presents under the tree. I was saving Thomas’s big gift for later, but he seemed very pleased with his first gift from me, a sweater. His parents said they loved the tablet from the both of us, though I was pretty sure they didn’t entirely understand what it was for. Bryony kept looking from me to Thomas, almost expectantly. I remembered her words from yesterday and blushed again.

I hadn’t given much thought to Thomas proposing, to be honest. I felt in my heart that it would happen, someday. I couldn’t imagine being without him, and I knew that he loved me very much. We talked about the future sometimes, mostly when we were lying in bed in the dark, or sharing a bottle of wine. But there had never been any kind of time frame involved.

He wouldn’t propose now, would he? Not when he was so busy with the movie and we were transplanted in L.A. Surely he would wait awhile? Or we’d talk about it more, first. Even so, I started to feel a thrum of anticipation in my stomach as the gifts were passed.

But I was sure he wouldn’t propose, not yet. I really was.

Almost.

When I was finally handed a gift from Thomas I thought I might faint. It was exactly the size of a ring box. I heard a sharp intake of breath from across the room and realized Bryony’s eyes were trained on the box. With trembling fingers, I unwrapped the gold paper to find a small, black jewelry box.

“Open it,” Thomas said encouragingly. He was smiling at me, his face open and happy. He didn’t look like a man about to propose. Did he?

I realized I’d been holding the box for nearly a full minute without moving. He probably thought I was crazy.
Now or never, Lizzie.
I snapped the box open.

I wasn’t exactly sure what he’d given me, but I knew it was not an engagement ring. I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed.

“Do you like it?” he asked. “It’s from that stand in Olvera Street, remember? I thought you should have something to remind you of Tucola as well.”

It hit me, finally, what the gift was. What at first glance had appeared to be a pile of wooden beads was, in fact, one of the same carved rosaries we had seen the day we shopped for my parents. “It’s beautiful,” I said. My fingers were still shaking, but I reached for it and examined the beads. Each was intricately carved into the shape of various flowers. The cross at the end, too, was intricately carved into filigrees and spindly swirls. I was scared, for a minute, that I might break it just by touching it.

“How did you buy it without me seeing?” I asked.

“I went back the next day.” He grinned. “I knew you liked it. And I thought it could kind of be like the statue, you know? Something that represents both your parents.”

I looked at him, confused. “The artist from Tuloca, for your father,” he said softly. “And flower beads for your mom. You know, Flores. Her maiden name.”

Something that represents both your parents.

I looked up and saw that most of the others had stopped what they were doing to watch us. Bryony looked flat-out disappointed, Mr. and Mrs. Harper both curious. And then there were Thomas’s eyes, so steady on mine, waiting for me to tell him that I liked it.

“Excuse me,” I whispered, sure that I was going to cry.

“Lizzie—” he started, but I was already up and off the couch, walking as fast as I could to the kitchen without actually running.

I collapsed at the table, letting the tears flow. I didn’t know why, exactly, I was so emotional. Some combination, probably, of thinking just for a minute that he might propose and then being hit with such a strong and meaningful reminder of home. Of my parents. One of whom wouldn’t even talk to me.

“Hey,” Thomas said, his hand on my back. Of course he followed me. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I said quickly, looking up at him. His face fell at my tears, and he reached out to wipe them from below my eyes.

“I didn’t want to make you cry. What’s wrong?”

“It was a beautiful gift. Really. I love it, Thomas.”

“Is this about your parents?”

I nodded. “It just hit me, when I saw it. But it’s okay, I promise. I shouldn’t have run off.”

“You should have done whatever you wanted, Lizzie. This should be like home to you, you know?”

“It is.” I realized how true the words were as I spoke them. I loved it there. Loved his family. Felt like they were practically my own. “I just didn’t want to cry in front of everyone.”

He pulled me onto his lap, and I snuggled in. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “It was a beautiful gift.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I, um, had a different one for you. I mean, I was going to give you that gift last night. And today…” He sounded awkward, nervous. I thought of Bryony’s face, so clearly disappointed, and my heart started beating really hard.

Thomas sighed. “It’s just…Paul. I don’t want to…The other gift was really, uh, meaningful, and I didn’t think it was right, with Paul.”

Oh my God. Was he saying that he was going to propose? Was that what he didn’t feel right doing in front of Paul?

“I think,” I said, my voice coming out kind of high-pitched and squeaky, “that maybe there are too many things going on in both of our families for something so meaningful.” I let the words hang in the air, wondering if I was completely on the wrong track. What if he wasn’t talking about a proposal? There were any number of things that he might not want to give me in front of Paul. What if he meant he was going to take us on a vacation or something. He might consider something like that to be flaunting our happy relationship before his newly single brother.

“I think maybe we should keep things the way they are until things calm down a little,” I said softly, my cheeks aflame. “Before we, uh, add anything else meaningful.”

He looked down at my face, and I couldn’t read what he was thinking. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay.”

“We should go back out.” I climbed down from his lap. “Your family probably thinks I’m rude.”

He shook his head and cupped my face in his hands. “Right before I followed you, I heard my mum say, ‘Poor dear, she’s probably homesick.’ They understand, Lizzie.”

I nodded, feeling better. And when we reached the living room, everyone smiled at me encouragingly, even Paul, and I found that I didn’t feel awkward at all.

***

The rest of the day passed in a cozy blur of visitors and delicious food. Thomas’s grandparents showed up at noon, along with his aunt and uncle, cousins, and the terrible children (Thomas was right, they were pretty awful). We ate an afternoon meal of roast and potatoes, finished by a desert of treacle tart. I had never had the pudding before and found it a bit sweet, but I enjoyed everything else immensely.

We opened more gifts with the rest of the family after our meal. Though she’d given me a lovely sweater in the morning, Anne pressed another wrapped package into my hands. “You already gave me a gift,” I said, confused.

She winked at me. “That one’s from my own personal book shelf.”

I ripped off the wrapping and found a dog-eared copy of
Venetia
by Georgette Heyer. “Sorry it’s not new,” she said. “I meant to pop out right after our chat yesterday, but then the boys came home and—”

I cut her off with a hug. “I love used books,” I said, squeezing her tight. “They mean so much more when you know someone you loved has read the same pages and loved them as much as you do.”

She patted my cheek affectionately. “You understand things, Lizzie. About books. I like that.”

Bryony assured me that she did, in fact, like my present better than all the rest, even the new riding boots from her parents and the hundred quid from each of her brothers. “Money is great and all,” she said, examining the poster. “But you can’t put a price on the gorgeousness of that man.”

For his main gift, I gave Thomas a telescope, a purchase I had planned for and saved up for for months. When he opened it, he was actually speechless for several minutes before he pulled me into a bone-crunching hug. “I can set this up on the deck at the beach house.” He grinned from ear to ear and hugged me again. “I have another gift for you, too. But you have to wait until later.”

I laughed and slapped his arm, assuming he was being dirty.

Over the course of the day several neighbors stopped in to say Merry Christmas and enjoy some of the cookies we had made. The entire house felt warm and cozy, filled with friends and family. Again, I had the same sense that I’d gotten the night before. This might be different from the way my family did things—not quite as loud, not quite as chaotic—but the important things were all there. The love and the laughter and the family.

But the biggest surprise came later in the night when I called my mother to wish her and the family a Merry Christmas and to thank her for the box of cookies and new laptop case she had sent to Thomas and asked him to give to me.