Then and Always (30 page)

Relief flooded over his features. “Is that what you think? No, of course I didn’t. I wouldn’t
do
that.”

He was so earnest in his denial that I knew he was telling the truth.

“Then why did you send me out of the room?”

His eyes gave a flicker, which betrayed his discomfort, but his voice was smooth enough as he replied. “No one sent you out of the room. You went to get the decorations.”

I gave him a long narrowed-eyed stare, which I knew he would remember from our past. It was the look I had always given him when I was unhappy with something he had said. However, Jimmy wasn’t going to let me go any further with this one.

“Come on then. Let’s get started. It’s a big tree and we haven’t got all night.”

It’s impossible to stay in a bad mood when you’re decorating
a Christmas tree. There’s something about the twinkling of fairy lights and the glint of fragile glass baubles reflected in the light from the fire that simply sucks all feelings of negativity from you, however hard you try to hold on to them.

At Jimmy’s request I had even found a CD of Christmas tunes in my dad’s collection and had them playing softly in the background as we worked together, mostly in silence, dressing the tree. It was comfortable and companionable; our heads bent low over the box of decorations, sometimes fingers colliding as we both reached for a particular ornament at exactly the same instant. Either we shared the same taste in gaudy baubles or it was another confirmation of just how in tune we were with each other.

The tree was starting to look really good. Nothing refined and understated here; this was a real Las Vegas–style tree! It just needed the tinsel to finish it off. Careful of the spiky pine needles, I wriggled halfway behind the main trunk and asked Jimmy to pass me the long strand of sparkling decoration so I could thread it through the branches. I held out my hand through the dense foliage, waiting to take the glittering streamer. But instead of passing me the tinsel, I felt Jimmy’s fingertips lightly graze mine.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

His voice sounded almost desperate, as though the words had been torn out of him against his will.

The tree branches obscured my view of him, so I directed my voice in his general direction.

“That’s all right. We’re almost done here. I can finish it off myself.”

“I’m not talking about the damned tree!” There was no mistaking his tone: there was genuine anguish there.

I struggled to get out from the imprisoning branches, but
stopped as he went on to add, “I’m talking about us. You and me. Our friendship.”

I felt my heart freeze over. Every last fear I’d ever had in my life was crystallized in that one moment. It was as devastating to hear now as it would have been when I was five years old. Jimmy didn’t want to be my friend anymore. Suddenly I was in no hurry to emerge from the tree’s protective cover. I didn’t want him to see the effect his words had on me. I’d brought this on myself. I’d neglected something precious for far too long and then tried to lean on him more than I should have. I deserved whatever was coming.

“I understand,” I said in a voice that was beginning to tremble. “You have to step back from being my friend right now.”

He gave a sound that was almost a groan. “That’s not it. Well, maybe that’s partly it; I
do
want to step back from being your friend …” It was the worst thing I had ever heard, until he continued, “but only because I want to be so much more.”

My hand, still protruding through the branches, was suddenly gripped in his warm and steady clasp.

“And you had to wait until I was embedded in a Christmas tree to say this to me?” I asked in a voice too dazed to really take in his words.

The branches were suddenly swept back in one swift move, and I stared up in wonder at the man who had just changed my entire view of the future.

“I had to make sure you couldn’t run away,” he said, gently pulling me out of the tree and toward him.

“That is the last thing on my mind,” I assured him. “In fact—”

But I never got to finish that sentence, as his head lowered
toward mine and he pulled me close. In a perfect blend, the soft contours of my body molded up against the firm hardness of his. Two halves, complementing and blending, and it was as though nothing in the world had ever really been right until this single perfect moment. I felt the thundering of his heart echoing against mine as he held my trembling body against him. I looked into his eyes and found all I’d been searching for and an expression of love so open and naked it robbed me of what little breath I had left. And then his mouth was on mine, and his hands were arching me closer and he was holding me while I fell even more in love with the man I was always destined to be with.

THE FIRE DIMMED
long before our passion did. We lay on the faded old settee, limbs entwined. Beneath my head I could hear the resounding and comforting beat of his heart, while his fingers traced small circles upon the nape of my neck. I had never known a moment of such complete contentment in my entire life.

I struggled to sit up but his strong arms wouldn’t release me.

“Don’t move,” he urged, covering my mouth with his own to ensure that for several more minutes moving away wasn’t even the remotest possibility.

I was a little breathless when we eventually separated.

“Jimmy, can we talk for a minute?”

His blue eyes darkened for a second.

“I’d much rather do this,” he suggested, pulling me from his side until I lay on top of the long length of his body. My new location did nothing at all for my concentration, and several more minutes were completely lost as I gave in to the racing passion that was coursing through my veins.

“Enough!” I said, sitting up so abruptly that I would have toppled from the settee if he hadn’t caught me.

He must have recognized my determination, for he reluctantly rose from the cushions and swung his legs to the floor, allowing me to slide onto the seat beside him. I could see the effort it had cost him, both physical and emotional, to separate from me, and I felt a flutter deep within me, to know he wanted me as much as I did him.

“You have five minutes,” he warned, “before I have to start kissing you again, so you’d better talk fast.”

His words and his proximity were doing funny things to the rate of my pulse. It could easily take me all of my allotted time just to get a single sentence out. But there
were
things I needed to ask.

“This … between us … I’m confused … I thought you didn’t …” Oh God, he
had
robbed me of the art of coherent speech.

“You thought what?” he prompted gently, taking my hand in his, tenderly lacing our fingers together.

“That you didn’t want me … well, not in
that
way.”

My words must have been so unexpected that they erased the loving smile from his face, replacing it with a look of incredulity. “Why on earth would you think that?”

“Well, after what happened at the hotel …” My voice trailed away.

Realization began to dawn in his eyes.

“You made it pretty clear that night that you didn’t want me.” My voice was hushed, the memory and embarrassment still raw.

“Is that what you thought?” He ran his hand distractedly through his hair. “I wanted you so much that night I could
hardly breathe. You’ll never know how hard it was for me to leave your room that night.”

“Then why did you?”

He pulled me toward him then, cradling me against his chest, my head against his neck. His soft breath fanned my forehead as he spoke. “Because it was wrong of me to take advantage of you then. It probably still is now.”

I gasped out the beginnings of a protest but he silenced me with a finger against my lips.

“You were so confused that night, nothing made sense to you, and you needed me as a friend then, not a lover. And besides, you
were
still engaged to Matt.”

The last doubts of uncertainty began to crumble as he spoke. The strength of what he felt for me was made even more apparent by his leaving my bed that night than if he had stayed. Sarah had been right, Jimmy would never have rejected me unless he had truly thought he was doing the right thing.

“About Matt …,” I began, and he groaned softly.

“Do we really have to talk about him?”

I raised my eyes to his, allowing all the love I felt for him to shine through them like a beacon, letting him know there was nothing I could say that would hurt him here.

“I just want to let you know that I understand now why you’ve been holding back. And I know you think I still need time to get over breaking up with him, but really I don’t.”

He looked doubtful at my words.

“As far as I’m concerned, Matt and I broke up over five years ago. It was finding myself engaged to him now that I was having trouble dealing with, not losing him.”

I looked over at the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Okay, my five minutes are up.” I leaned over to kiss his mouth but this time he was the one who drew back.

“Before I totally lose myself here, can I just say one thing, Rachel?”

He sounded so earnest that I was suddenly afraid of what I would hear.

“Tonight. Us. This isn’t just some spur-of-the-moment thing. I need you to know that. What I feel for you … I should have told you a very long time ago. I almost did, in fact.”

Suddenly the pieces were sliding into place.

“I knew you were with Matt, but I promised myself that before we all left for university I would tell you how I felt—how I’ve always felt—about you. We even arranged to meet, but that was the night …”

“… of the accident,” I finished.

“And after that there never seemed to be the right time to say anything. And then after uni you two were still together, so I thought I’d lost my chance.”

It broke my heart to think of the pain it must have caused him over the years to see me with someone else and never be able to say anything about it. If I lived to be a hundred, I could never make up for what I had done. “I’m so sorry,” I said brokenly. “Can you ever forgive me for not realizing that you loved me back then?”

“Then and
always
,” he corrected gently, his voice husky with emotion.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” I whispered softly.

His smile was all I needed in the world right then.

“My pleasure.”

The fire crackled quietly in the grate, the fairy lights twinkled
in the darkened room, but we saw and heard nothing. Just each other.

I REALIZED MY
father must have guessed what had happened between Jimmy and me by the stupid grin he wore as he greeted me in the kitchen the following morning.

“You look happy,” was his opening comment. My grin matched his. “What time did Jimmy leave last night?”

Oh Lord, the man had no subtlety at all.

“Late,” I confirmed, reaching for the cup of coffee he was handing me. “You know, don’t you?”

He nodded in confirmation. “Jimmy told me that he wanted to tell you how he felt.”

So that was what they had been talking about when I was out of the room.

“Did he actually ask your
permission
?” I queried, astounded to learn they’d both been so unexpectedly traditional.

“No. Not my permission exactly. He just wanted to know if I thought you were ready to hear what he had to say—if you were strong enough yet or if I thought you needed more time.”

“And you said?” I prompted.

“I told him he had already wasted the last twenty years or so and that he should go right on ahead.”

“I’m not sure if I was entirely ready to hear it when I was three years old.”

“But you are now?”

Did he really need to ask? Wasn’t it written all over my face?

“Now everything is absolutely perfect.”

I didn’t know it then, but things were about to get even better.

MIDNIGHT MASS ON
Christmas Eve. I hadn’t been for years, but suddenly it seemed I had a lot to be grateful for. Although Jimmy was on a late shift, he would finish in time to join us for the service.

I sat by the lounge window and watched the soft snowflakes falling on the road and pavement, waiting for him. Before my eyes the familiar street transformed to a Christmas card idyll. I smiled as even the mundane and boring took on a white shroud of beauty.

I’d been smiling quite a lot these past few days. Every minute spent with Jimmy filled me with such joy and happiness that he felt more necessary to my existence than the air I breathed. Every minute apart was spent either thinking of him or in heady anticipation of when his familiar knock would sound on the door.

I could have been a nauseating daughter, wreathed in smiles and wistful glances, if my dad hadn’t been so patently delighted at the turn of events. He was even continuing his mission to give us as much private time together as he could, and was going to bed at night at an increasingly early hour. There were six-year-olds who stayed up later than him these days.

My father entered the room, already dressed for the weather in heavy topcoat and hat.

“Is he here yet?”

“He will be soon,” I assured him. Bright headlights cut through the falling flakes as Jimmy’s car rounded the bend
and pulled up beside our house. I snatched up my coat from the chair and hurried to the door, heart already beating faster. It was like being a teenager all over again.

I stood in the open doorway as he climbed out of the car, mindless of the snow buffeting against me as I waited for him. The intensity of my feelings had taken me by surprise. Since we’d known each other all our lives, I had expected our relationship would be more of a slow burn, and not the raging inferno that I was consumed by.

“You look like a snow queen,” he murmured, kissing the crystal flakes from my face. “And you haven’t got your coat on,” he chided, noticing that I still held it in my hands. “You’ll get cold.”

“Not with you here, I won’t,” I said dreamily, but nevertheless slid my arms into the garment he had taken from me and was now holding out. I particularly liked the way he used the wrapping of the long scarf around my neck as a means of drawing me against him for a lingering kiss.