Our First Christmas (36 page)

Once the final photograph was snapped, Mrs. Simmons sought out her husband, leaving the two sisters alone for the first time that day.

“I have a surprise for you,” Natalie told her sister.

“For me? What?”

“It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you,” Natalie said. “Come with me, and I'll show you.”

Megan followed Natalie back into the reception hall. “It's right here, in my purse, wherever that is.”

“Maybe in the dressing room.”

“Crap. Of course.” Relief flowed across Natalie's face. “I can't believe I didn't remember. Disorganized, Mom always says. What would I do without you?” she tossed over her shoulder as she hurried to retrieve her small clutch. Returning a few seconds later, she held up the jeweled bag and rolled her eyes. “Right where I left it. What am I going to do when you're not around? I'll never find anything. Sometimes I wish I were more like you, Meg.”

Megan felt another jab of guilt as her sister, her beautiful sister, actually praised her. Natalie snapped open the purse and retrieved a small package, which she handed to Megan. Natalie's diamond ring caught in the light, the gold band nestled close to it reminding Megan again that her sister was actually married. To Adam. Megan's heart twisted once more as Natalie, her eyes dancing, urged, “Come on. Open it!” Megan's throat tightened. She opened the little box. Inside was a lovely antique ring wrapped in white tissue paper. She found it hard to speak, but managed to say, “It's your ring. . . .”

“No, it's your ring now. It was Aunt Janice's ring, before she married Uncle Ned. Her first husband had given it to her. When she remarried after he died, she gave it to me. And now I'm giving it to you.”

“Are you sure? What will Aunt Janice say?”

“She knows all about it! Come on; put it on. The only thing you have to worry about is who to give it to when you get married.”

“If I get married.”

Natalie laughed. “Hey. I never expected to get married so young. Then I met Adam, and the rest is history!” Her face lit with a mischievous air, and one dark eyebrow arched. “You know, I couldn't help noticing that Chris couldn't take his eyes off of you!”

“Who?”

“Chris Johnson, Adam's cousin.”

“Really?” Megan said, as if she hadn't noticed, and cast a glance at the boy in question. His eyes were averted, but she'd sensed he'd been looking her way only seconds before. Was he really interested? Not likely. Maybe he was just surprised that she was Natalie's sister, as different as they were.

At that instant, Adam hurried down the stairs. His gaze landed squarely on Natalie. “What are you two up to?”

“Nothing!” Natalie insisted.

“Yeah. Right.” He pressed a kiss to his bride's cheek. “Come on, Nat. The guests expect us to do a little more socializing and dancing before we head over to your folks' house.”

“I guess I can't complain that my feet are killing me,” she whispered.

“So take off your shoes.”

“No way.” Natalie acted as if he'd just asked her to commit harikari.

How could anyone be tired of dancing with Adam?
Megan wondered to herself as she watched the bride and groom head for the dance floor again.

It was about time to make good her escape and head over to the house, to get away from the celebration and clear her mind. She was wicked, that was it, for being jealous of her sibling, a sister she'd once adored. No, she decided, it wasn't Natalie who was the problem. Megan was mad at herself for being such a goody-two-shoes, as her mother had once pronounced, a kid who had colored within the lines and striven to do what was right, to the point of sometimes being boring. Oh, she had a wild side, but she'd tamped it down all the while she'd been in school.

And what has that gotten you?
A 4.0 GPA and no boyfriend, zero social life. Again, through the mullioned windows, she saw the wintry landscape. All of the trees had lost their leaves, and they stood out as a dark reminder of the icy season. Even the glowing candles and the laughing guests with sparkling glasses of champagne couldn't warm the winter's chill for Megan.

Time to leave.

She wasn't paying much attention as she made her way around knots of guests to the dressing area where her own purse and keys were stuffed into a closet and found herself near the bridal arch. Woven wood slats had been braided with red-berried holly and occasional sprigs of mistletoe. The miniature lights winked as if they were tiny stars, and cautiously she stepped under the arch. From the corner of her eye she noticed a movement, and suddenly Chris Johnson appeared on the opposite side of the archway.

“Waiting for me?” he asked, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

“What?” she asked. Was he kidding? “Waiting? For you?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“But you're waiting for someone?”

For the first time she noticed how blue his eyes were, how they caught the light. “What are you talking about?” Megan couldn't stop a note of irritation from creeping into her voice. She was in no mood for games.

“I don't suppose that you know you're standing under the mistletoe?”

“Under the—?” She glanced at the center of the arch. Directly over their heads was a beribboned sprig. “Oh, geez. No, I mean I . . . didn't realize,” she began. Her gaze collided with his.

“Sure you did.”

“What? No!” She was shaking her head, but didn't step back. Her heart raced a little, and she felt bold, the wild child within her coming to the fore. She swallowed hard. What the hell was she doing? Before she could think twice, he leaned down and gently kissed her on the lips.

She almost kissed him back. Almost. And then, as quickly as he'd appeared, he vanished, stepping backward into the throng of guests to disappear.

Megan wanted to die.

And as for that stupid “wild child” within her? A quick beheading would suffice, she thought as she lay on the bed, on top of the quilt, absently petting Madonna, the family's long-haired calico cat, who had followed her up the stairs. What had she been thinking? Okay, so it was only a kiss. No big deal, right? Except that it had happened under the bridal arch at her sister's wedding reception, and she was too young to make up some lame excuse about being drunk or something. So there it was—she'd let Chris Johnson, a virtual stranger, kiss her in front of God and everyone. Including Aunt Janice. And Adam.

Yep. Death would be a great alternative to joining the rest of the family downstairs. She'd made good her escape from the reception and helped her mother get things ready at the house, then had come up with a lame excuse of going upstairs to change. Of course she'd been hiding out ever since.

Chicken!
Her brain nagged.

She couldn't hide up here all night. Unfortunately. The tinkling of glasses and sound of laughter filtered upstairs to her bedroom, so she'd have to go back down. After tonight, she wouldn't have to deal with her sister's wedding, at least not until the happy couple returned from their honeymoon.

Ugh. Megan should have changed her clothes and been back downstairs helping her mother by now, but she couldn't manage to get off the bed. She just wished that this wedding business would soon end and that she could relax. After all, this was supposed to be the start of Christmas vacation.

Rather than dwell on Adam, she thought about Chris Johnson. He had actually seemed interested in her, and if it weren't for her feelings for Adam, she would probably be attracted to him, too, even if he seemed like a boy when compared to Adam.

All too clearly she remembered the feel of Chris's lips on hers. The kiss had been a bit of a joke on his part, she thought. The way his eyes had twinkled devilishly. The curve of his mouth. Yeah, he'd been playing with her. Nothing more. Still, when she thought about the chance meeting in the archway she couldn't help but be intrigued. Kissed under the mistletoe by a handsome stranger! She had to admit it was kind of romantic. She wondered where he lived. Hadn't he said that he lived here now? Why hadn't she seen him in school?

A gentle rap at the door chased away her thoughts.

“Megan?”

Mom. Great. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” She sat up. “I, uh, I kind of fell asleep,” she lied, cringing a little. “I'll be, um, I'll be right down.” She threw on a pair of pants and a sweater, nothing fancy, but not her favorite pair of beat-up jeans, then shook out her unruly hair, getting rid of the French braid Natalie had insisted she wear. Megan hesitated, saw the little box Natalie had given her, and slipped the cameo ring onto her finger. It was really old-fashioned, but who cared? She liked it in its funky-grandma kind of way.

As she reached the door and the cat slunk under her bed, Megan wondered if Chris would be downstairs. He was, after all, now “family.”
Great,
she thought sourly. As if it wasn't bad enough that she'd have to deal with Natalie and Adam, now she had another worry.
Get over yourself. It was one kiss. No big deal.

So why then did she think Madonna, hiding under the bed, eyes glowing from the shadows, had the right idea?

As Megan descended the stairs, she eyed the living room, where family members had gathered. She was amazed at how many people were already in the house. Was it possible that between Natalie and Adam they had this many relatives? She scanned the faces of the crowd, but nowhere did she see Chris. Stupidly, she felt a pang of disappointment, which only convinced her that she was a bona fide cretin.

But of course there was Adam.

Perfect, handsome, mature Adam.

And he was waiting for her at the base of the stairs. “I wondered what happened to you.”

For a second her heart leapt, then she saw the brotherly glint in his eye.

“Hiding?” he asked, guessing the truth.

“From what?”

“You tell me.” One corner of his mouth lifted, and she noticed that his rock-hard jaw was already showing a bit of shadow.

“Adam?” Megan's father's voice reached them. He was standing near the open doors to the den as he searched out his new son-in-law. “It's time.”

“Time for what?” Megan asked.

“To open a bottle of twenty-year-old champagne.”

She nodded, knowing about the bottle that had been bought the day Natalie had been born. Her father had talked about it for years. “I wonder if it's still good.”

“Guess we'll find out.”

Megan felt that she had seen enough traditions, ceremonies, and customs to last her a lifetime.

Just as Megan was stepping into the kitchen, Natalie came down the stairs. Her hair was pinned up, and she'd changed into slim black slacks with a matching jacket. Adam was at her side in an instant, and Megan tried to retreat into the kitchen, but Aunt Janice spied her.

“I hear Natalie gave you the . . . oh, there it is!” She spied the cameo ring. “Does it fit?”

“Perfectly,” Megan said, which was a white lie as the ring slid a bit on her finger. She spied Chris Johnson as he entered the house. Her foolish heart soared slightly, which was just plain ridiculous. Natalie and Adam, who had apparently done the honors with the old champagne, descended on him in an instant. While he was unzipping his jacket he looked around the room, his gaze landing on hers for an instant before skating away.

Ridiculously she felt a little bit of disappointment.

What had she expected, she asked herself, then squared her shoulders. One stupid little kiss under the mistletoe was just that. Nothing more. No big deal. To hear some of her friends talk about it, kissing was nothing. Or at least just the start. Which made her curious.

And she thought about kissing Chris again. With a little more passion.

The wild child raised her head again, and Megan bit her lip. Why not? But she'd never been bold where boys were concerned, and maybe that was the problem. Time to grow up. If Nat could get married, to Adam no less, maybe it was time for Megan to step out of her sister's shadow and find out who she really was.

She found Chris standing near the Christmas tree, decorated in the colors of the wedding, shining brightly in front of the living room window. He, like she, seemed a little out of place. “Hey!” she said, and he looked up, his gaze finding hers again.

“Mad at me?” he asked.

“For?”

“You know what for.” He jammed his hands into his pockets and actually looked away, as if he were embarrassed. For what?

“Happens all the time,” she teased.

“It does?”

“Sure.” She laughed then, and he relaxed a little. “So, I said I hadn't seen you at school. Did you just come here for the wedding?”

“Moved here last summer. I go to LaSalle,” he explained, mentioning the private school across town. Ludicrously, Megan felt a little glow inside. At least he wasn't leaving the area after the wedding, though why she cared, she didn't really understand. She learned that he'd met Natalie several times and had heard about Megan, that Natalie had even shown him a picture of her younger sister. Weird, considering that Natalie had never once mentioned anything about Adam's cousin to Megan. Then again, Nat had been pretty caught up in the wedding. It seemed to Megan that it was all anyone had talked about ever since Adam had proposed nearly a year earlier and her parents had gotten over the shock of their eldest daughter's marrying so young.

Chris, the bold kid who had kissed her under the mistletoe less than two hours earlier, seemed suddenly a little shy, but finally summoned the courage to ask her out.

“I thought maybe you might want to come with me next Saturday night for the LaSalle sleigh ride.”

“A date?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah.” His lips twitched as if he were trying to swallow a smile.

Megan surveyed Chris critically. His features were even, if a little oversized, and although his smile wasn't perfect, it seemed genuine. With longish brown hair and intense eyes, he was good-looking and had a bit of charm to him. His jaw, while not dark with beard shadow like Adam's, was strong. He seemed smart and probably athletic, and he was practically family, so why shouldn't she go out with him?

“Sure,” she finally said. “Unless Mom and Dad have me scheduled for some family thing. It can get a little crazy here around Christmas.”

“There is a catch,” he admitted, backlit by the tree. She felt a needle of disappointment.

“Which is?”

“You'll have to bring a date for my friend Ken.”

“I
have
to?” she repeated. “Hook your friend up with a blind date?” What did she know about this guy really?

“Yeah.”

“Or you won't go out with me?”

“I didn't say that.”

“None of my girlfriends will go on a blind date, especially when I haven't even met the guy myself!” This wasn't a request, she thought; this was an impossibility!

“Oh, I don't know,” he disagreed, his eyes growing a shade darker. “From what I can tell, the LaSalle sleigh ride is a pretty big deal around these parts.”

“What? Some nerdy old tradition?” she threw back at him, though, of course, he was right. A lot of the girls at her school talked about it, not so much about the sleigh ride itself, but just about hanging out with the boys from LaSalle. The truth was a couple of her friends had talked about it, probably because Heather Winters acted like it was a really big deal.

“Look, if you don't know anyone, that's cool.”

“I'll see,” she promised.

He grinned, that sexy, slightly dangerous smile that caught her off guard. “So Adam was right.”

“About what?” she asked, her curiosity piqued that Adam had said anything about her.

“He said you liked challenges. I like that in a girl.”

“Oh, you do? Why?” How did they get on this stupid subject?

“I don't know. I guess it shows intelligence and imagination.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Is that a compliment?”

“If you want it to be,” he said, eyes glinting, reflecting the lights of the tree, and Megan realized they were kind of alone, most of the guests having wandered into the dining area and kitchen for drinks and appetizers. Intelligence and imagination weren't exactly in the same category as beautiful or gorgeous, but they weren't bad, and were much better than
nice.

So maybe a date wouldn't be so bad, not so bad at all.

 

“Come on. It'll be fun,” Megan pleaded the next day. She was flopped on the couch, hoping that no one in the house could hear her conversation, the cordless phone pressed to her ear.

“I'm just not sure. Why doesn't this guy—Ken—get himself a date? What is he? A real loser or something?”

Megan didn't know. In fact she didn't know a whole lot about Chris, either, though she wanted to know more—a lot more—and was checking through a friend whose brother had gotten kicked out of Central and landed at LaSalle, but so far she hadn't heard back.

“I would do it for you!” Megan pressed, not really sure she was telling the truth. Tail aloft, Madonna strolled in and hopped onto the couch, and absently, with her free hand, Megan petted her soft fur as the cat curled up next to her and began kneading the sofa's cushions and purred loudly.

“What does he look like?”

“I . . . really don't know,” Megan said.

“You have seen him, haven't you?”

Ooops.
“No, not exactly, but Chris told me that he was very popular and a great guy.” That might have been stretching it a little.

There was an audible groan at the other end of the line. “Being popular at an all-boys school could mean that he's the class clown, or a real jerk! What do you know about him? Anything?”

“Not much,” Megan admitted, though Chris had told her a little before leaving last night. “Uh, Ken's a . . . good student. . . .”

“Wonderful.” Sarcasm dripped from Leslie's voice.

“He plays video games. . . .”

“Every guy does that. And it's BORing. Oh, wait. Don't tell me that he plays Frisbee. I don't know if my heart could stand all that excitement at one time.”

“The only thing I know is that he
and
Chris are on the debating team,” she said, recalling their quick conversation.

“Ugh.”

“And that he is willing to go out on a blind date with
you.
”

“Sounding better and better all the time,” Leslie said. “What a hottie! You know, I get that you're all into intellectual types, the A plus plus plus students or whatever, but, that's not me. I like something a little—”

“Jockier.”

“I was going to say ‘edgy,' but, yeah, jocks are cool.” She paused, then added, “As long as they're cute. You know, like Ryan DuBois!”

Ryan was the star of Central's basketball team. And, in Megan's opinion, a real jerk. “Come on, Les. When will you ever get an opportunity to go on the LaSalle sleigh ride? They're talking about making the school coed next year, so who knows if they'll even have it again.”

“I don't know—”

“You got something better going on?”

On the other end of the line, Leslie sighed. “You've got a point there. Okay. I'll go,” she acquiesced, though she sounded less than enthused. “But if this turns out to be a disaster, you owe me. Big-time.”