Mistletoe and Holly (17 page)

When she lifted out the books, she held them up for Tagg to see. “Look, Daddy. Books.” She was obviously pleased with the gift. “I haven’t read either one of them before.” Then she noticed Leslie hadn’t opened her present. “Hurry up, Leslie, so you can see what book we bought you. Whoops!” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

“I still don’t know which book it is,” Leslie assured her, sliding a finger under the tape to loosen it from the paper. Inwardly, she was relieved to have some idea of what the package contained.

In the meantime, her aunt had opened her gift. “A collection of poems by Robert Frost—and one I don’t have. Thank you.”

Underneath the Christmas paper and ribbon, there was a leather-bound edition of
A Christmas Carol
by Charles Dickens. A smile of amused disbelief wavered on Leslie’s face.

“Daddy said you liked the hero of that book,” Holly explained and waited for Leslie to confirm that it had been an appropriate choice.

“It’s one of my favorites by Dickens,” she said.

“I thought it would be good bedtime reading for Christmas Eve,” Tagg murmured, a wicked light glittering in his eyes.

“Without a doubt,” Leslie agreed, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

“I’m going to start reading my books now,” Holly declared and opened up the first one to begin reading aloud.

All three of them became involved, helping her with the words she didn’t know. When the story reached a point where it could be stopped, Patsy Evans suggested it would be a good time to put the
book aside and have their supper. Everyone lent a hand in the kitchen to carry the crackers and bowls of steaming oyster stew into the dining room.

“I almost forgot to tell you.” Holly was trailing after Patsy Evans with a bowl of little, round oyster crackers. “Do you know what I heard when we were coming over here to your house? I heard Santa’s sleigh flying high in the sky.”

Tagg leaned his head toward Leslie and murmured, for her ears alone, “It sounded very much like a puppy whining because it doesn’t like being in the garage all alone.”

“Of course, that’s not what it was,” she said dryly, guessing he had smuggled Holly’s Christmas puppy into the garage.

“It had to be the whine of Santa’s sleigh,” he insisted with a wink.

After supper was finished, Tagg and Holly didn’t stay long. As he explained, they opened their gifts on Christmas Eve so there would be room under the tree for the presents Santa brought.

“And I have to go to bed early tonight,” Holly added. “ ‘Cause Santa only comes when you’re sleeping.”

Leslie was about to conclude that Tagg was not going to raise the issue of their last conversation.
But while her aunt was helping Holly into her coat, Tagg drew her to one side.

“Have you thought about what we discussed?” There was a watchful quality in his gaze.

“Yes.” It was nearly all she’d thought about.

“And?” Tagg prompted.

“I’m still thinking,” she said.

There was an uneasy quavering in her stomach as she watched him breathe in deeply. A smile of reluctant acceptance finally edged his mouth to show his continued patience with her. When Leslie smiled, it was out of relief that he hadn’t been setting a deadline, giving her a now-or-never kind of ultimatum.

When he bent to kiss her, she ignored the fact there were spectators and kissed him back. For a second, it almost got out of hand, then her aunt cleared her throat and they drew apart, exchanging intimate and self-conscious looks.

“It’s a shame Santa has such a busy night ahead of him,” Tagg murmured.

“Yes, it is,” she agreed.

“I’m ready to go, Dad,” Holly hurried him along.

E
ARLY ON CHRISTMAS
morning, there was a loud pounding at the kitchen door. Leslie was still in her quilted robe, not having taken the time to dress before her first cup of coffee. She set the freshly poured cup on the counter and limped to the door in her furry brown slippers.

Holly was standing outside, both arms wrapped around a wiggling ball of white and brown fur. She was wearing the biggest smile Leslie had ever seen as she stepped into the kitchen to show off her new puppy.

“Look what Santa Claus brought me.” She offered the puppy to Leslie so she could hold it. Its pink little tongue immediately began washing her face, a
fluffy bundle of love. “His name is Chris. That’s short for Christmas, ‘cause that’s when I got him.”

“He’s beautiful,” Leslie laughed, managing to get the squirming pup away from her face so she could elude its licking kisses. When she glimpsed its long, thin nose, she guessed that it belonged to either the shepherd or the collie breed.

“When I came downstairs this morning, there was a big box under the tree,” she explained. “I went over and looked inside—and there he was. There was a big red bow around his neck, but he chewed it off. I guess it tickled him. When he saw me, he got all excited—just like he knew he belonged to me.”

“I’ll bet that’s because he knew you would love him.” Leslie handed the puppy back to Holly and smiled at the way she hugged with such affection. It whined with excitement.

“I just had to come over so you could see Chris,” Holly said, wanting to share the joy of this moment. She glanced beyond Leslie. “Aunt Patsy, look what Santa brought me.”

The explanations started all over again as she showed the puppy to Leslie’s aunt. She made all the suitable comments about what a fine-looking animal it was.

“Is this what you asked Santa to bring you?” her aunt inquired, rubbing the puppy’s ears.

“Well, I did ask him for something else,” Holly admitted with a thoughtful frown. “But I guess Santa can only bring certain kinds of things like toys and puppies. I’m glad I’ve got Christmas.”

“So am I.” Patsy smiled. “You’ll have to take real good care of him.”

“I will. Santa even brought dog food and dishes for his water and his puppy food.” She turned suddenly to Leslie. “I almost forgot. Santa Claus left a present for you at our house.”

“What?” A startled frown flickered across her face.

“I told you that you should have a tree,” Holly reminded her with a knowing nod of her head. “Since you didn’t have one, Santa had to leave your present under our tree. He knew we’d make sure you got it.”

“I think there must be a mistake—” Leslie made a confused protest.

“No. Santa doesn’t make a mistake,” Holly insisted. “Daddy looked at the package and said it had your name on it. I’m supposed to tell you to come over and get it.”

“I’ll come over later—” she began.

“No, come over now,” Holly coaxed. “I want to see what Santa brought you.”

“But I’m not dressed.” She glanced down at her quilted lounging robe in a chocolate brown trimmed with gold ribbing.

“Nonsense, you have more clothes on than you usually do,” her aunt scoffed at that excuse. “You’re covered from head to foot. Just throw a coat on and go over.”

“Yes, Leslie. Please.” Holly pleaded. “There isn’t any snow on the walk and the sun is out.”

“All right.” She gave into their urgings, but she was conscious of her heart racing.

After donning her coat, she followed Holly outside. It was a bright Christmas morning with the sunlight glinting off the snow. Holly put the puppy on the ground and the pair of them ran ahead of the limping Leslie.

By the time she reached the front porch steps, Holly had the door open and was announcing her arrival. “Daddy! Leslie’s here to get her present from Santa.”

When she entered the house, she saw him standing in the living room, a coffee cup in his hand. He was dressed in a long-sleeved, flannel shirt in a gray and black plaid and gray corduroy slacks. There was a faint accusation in her glance when she met the knowing glitter of his gaze.

“Your present’s under the tree.” He used the cup to motion in the direction of the tree.

There was only one square package under the tree, so there could be no doubt which was hers.
Her leg was tired and beginning to ache; her limp was more noticeable as she approached the tree.

“Maybe you’d better sit down,” Tagg suggested and pushed the ottoman closer to the tree.

She sank gratefully onto it, conscious of him towering beside her. The puppy romped about her feet in uncoordinated play while Holly hovered anxiously behind Leslie as she picked up the lightweight box wrapped in silver foil.

“This isn’t fair,” she said stiffly to Tagg, sliding him an irritated glance. “I didn’t buy you anything.”

“Don’t look at me.” He drew back in mock innocence. “This present is from Santa Claus.”

“Oh, hurry up and open it, Leslie,” Holly urged impatiently. “I want to see.”

When she removed the emerald green ribbon, the puppy grabbed it and began chewing and tearing it to shreds. He pounced on the silver foil, too, when it fell to the floor. Leslie slipped off the lid and began lifting aside the tissue that protected the contents. She just kept encountering more tissue.

“What’s inside?” Holly was leaning over her shoulder, trying to see into the box.

“A lot of tissue.” Then her fingers felt a second small box inside.

Her gaze darted to Tagg as she slowly lifted it out.
He silently held her glance. She could hear the thudding of her heart as she stared at the ring box.

“Another box!” Holly exclaimed with delight. “Open it up, Leslie.”

There was a tightness in her throat. Very slowly, she pushed back the hinged lid. Nestled on a bed of blue velvet sat a diamond ring, a solitaire in the center with smaller diamonds designed around it in the shape of a five-pronged star.

“Ooooh!” Holly was awed by the thousands of lights that sparkled from the diamond cuts. “It’s beautiful.”

Leslie didn’t say a thing, her breath coming painfully shallow. There was the sting of tears in her eyes. Her fingers tightened their hold on the box, her knuckles turning white under the pressure.

“It looks just like the Christmas star, doesn’t it, Daddy?” Holly declared in amazement. “It sparkles brighter than anything.”

“Yes, it does.” His voice was calmly quiet, but to Leslie, it seemed to come from some great distance. “Now that you’ve seen it, why don’t you take your puppy outside?”

“Okay.” Holly needed no second urging, unconcerned by Leslie’s silence. “Come here, Christmas!” she called the bounding puppy to her side and scooped it into her arms. “We’ve got to go outside
so you don’t make any messes in the house. You’ve got to learn to be a good puppy.”

All the while Leslie seemed to be frozen in position. It wasn’t until the front door closed and there was silence in the room that she finally lifted her gaze by degrees to Tagg. There was a mute appeal in the shimmer of her hazel eyes. He ignored it and took a sip of his coffee.

“There’s a card inside,” he said. “Why don’t you read it?”

This time her fingers were trembling when they searched through the tissue-filled box and came up with a small white card. There was a message written on it in a neatly lettered scroll.

“There is a man who loves you very much,” it read. “I would appreciate your assistance and ask that you wear this ring so he may have the Christmas present he wants.”

It was signed:
Santa Claus
.

Moisture collected in her eyes, blurring the words when she tried to read them a second time. She was shaking inside, deeply moved by his touching ploy. Yet she remained in the grip of her silence.

Tagg crouched down in front of her, the study of his gaze becoming intense. “Am I going to get my present?”

Her head made a slow move from side to side,
but it wasn’t a gesture of denial. It was an expression of helplessness. With all her heart, she wanted to give him the answer he sought but that fear of making a mistake held her motionless.

“I want you to marry me, Leslie,” Tagg said huskily. “I want you to be my wife.”

She looked again at the ring. A star of hope. A star of love. A Christmas star shining out at her from a heaven of blue velvet.

“I want to marry you,” Leslie admitted in a wavering voice that was still not an acceptance.

“I haven’t made it a habit of proposing to women. You’re the first one I’ve asked since Cindy died. I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging, but I’ve been with a fair number of women in the interim—and there were willing takers among them if I’d asked. But I didn’t ask because I didn’t love them. I know the difference.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled, because she didn’t mean for her doubt to be interpreted as a belief he treated the vows of marriage lightly.

“I understand why you are wary,” Tagg said. “Your parents’ divorce must have been a painful and traumatic experience for you. But I also went through it—as one of the parties directly involved, not just an innocent victim as you were. It isn’t something I want to go through again either.”

The shaking stopped as she slowly lifted her gaze to him. She searched his face, suddenly realizing she had not considered what he had been through. Foolishly she had been thinking that she was the only one who knew the agony of a broken marriage.

“Christmas is all about God and love. It’s something you can’t see or touch, but you have to have faith. You have to believe in love,” he stated.