Our First Christmas (37 page)

“Deal. Now, we're supposed to meet the boys down at the Hayloft around six thirty on Saturday. My folks will take us.”

“You mean they're not even going to pick us up? This just gets better and better.”

“They have to work on setting it up; they're part of the committee.”

“I'm already thinking this is a bad idea. So how do we get home? Hitchhike?”

“Of course not! They'll bring us home!”

Leslie was certainly not making it easy. Besides that, she was reinforcing Megan's existing fears about Chris.

Leslie echoed her thoughts, in a careful voice. “Meg, just why are you so interested in this guy? Tell me it's not because he's Adam's cousin?”

She couldn't. And Leslie was the only person besides Megan herself who knew her feelings about her now brother-in-law.

“This is sounding incestuous,” Leslie said.

“Ick!”

“I was kidding. But come on, Meg. Is Chris really all that interesting? I mean, to you. If he wasn't related to or close to Adam, would you be going out with him?”

Good question, Megan thought. One she really couldn't answer.

 

Later, at breakfast, things didn't get any better. Her mother, tired from all the wedding fuss, dressed in her favorite bathrobe, gave Megan the evil eye.

“Last night at the reception, you seemed a little quiet.” Megan's mother had been rinsing her coffee cup in the sink, but turned to survey her younger daughter.

At the table, Megan averted her gaze from her mother's and reached for the glass of orange juice near her plate. “What do you mean?” she asked, though she already knew.

“I think you know.” Megan's mom refilled her cup from the Mr. Coffee coffeemaker on the counter. “Enlighten me.”

How could she even start a conversation about her feelings for Adam with her Mom? Megan stared at her scrambled eggs, toying with them with her fork.

“Does it have anything to do with Natalie?” Her mother took a long swallow of coffee as she looked at Megan over the rim of her cup.

Megan shot her a quick glance. “No.”

Carol Simmons sat down and leaned back in her chair. “I know this is hard for you, Meg.”

“We're all going to miss your sister. Believe me, your father and I tried to talk her out of the marriage, at least for now. We wanted her to finish college and . . . Well, it doesn't matter now. Natalie had her mind set, and you know how bullheaded she can be. So, what's done is done. But this has got to be hard on you, too.” She cleared her throat, her gray eyes, so much like Megan's, clouding a bit, as if she were troubled. “You two were always so close. But lately . . .” She paused, her lips compressing, and it was almost as if she'd forgotten the coffee cup in her hand. “Lately, I've had the feeling that maybe it was more than that.”

“Like what?” Megan nearly choked on her juice.

“Envy, perhaps?”

Megan remained silent, unable to answer her mother. To her absolute horror, she felt tears burning behind her eyelids and her throat becoming thick.

“Look,” her mother continued. “I know that it's not easy for you. Natalie is so . . . outgoing.”

“You mean she was popular in school,” Megan clarified. “And I'm really not.” She saw the denial cross her mom's face. “No, I know it. It's not a big deal.” With a shrug she added, “Just the way it is. Or was. When she was at Central.”

“Okay. But it never seemed to bother you before. You've always been happy just to be yourself.”

Never!
Megan thought. Then amended it. “When I was a kid. In grade school.”

Her mother took a sip from her cup, then set her coffee onto the table. “She was the one who was envious, you know.”

“Natalie?”
No way!

“School comes easy for you. Easier than for your sister. And you're always so organized when she, well, you know, she was always losing things and running around like a chicken with her head cut off looking for her keys or lipstick or whatever.”

“Big deal.”

“It is. And more important, you, ever since you were old enough to speak, knew your own mind. She's stubborn, I know, but you . . . you, you're at ease with being yourself. At least you used to be.”

“I'm okay, Mom,” she said, as much to end this psychological probing and motherly advice as anything. “Natalie's been gone a long time.” And that much was true. Ever since her older sister had met Adam, Natalie had placed one foot firmly outside the Simmons's front door. Megan carried her plate to the sink and dumped the rest of her eggs. “Don't worry about me.”

“Impossible,” Carol said as she got up and reached into the small drawer near the back sliding door for her ever-handy pack of cigarettes. “It comes with the territory of being a mother.”

“This might not be as bad as I expected,” Leslie whispered as she appraised the two boys walking toward them in front of the Hayloft, an old barn turned into a restaurant, on the night of the sleigh ride. With thick red-blond hair and attitude written all over him, Ken was slightly shorter than Chris, a wiry guy, definitely
not
a basketball jock. Megan crossed her fingers in the pockets of her jacket, all the while hoping that Ken was a wrestler or maybe a soccer player or some kind of athlete.

“Hey!” Chris said, his grin stretching wide. “I was afraid you might not show.”

“Really?” Megan asked, but he laughed.

“Nah.”

“This is Ken Dickens.”

And so the date began. And sure enough, though it started out well enough, it turned into a disaster.

The frigid December air chasing them inside, they headed into the restaurant, where weathered planking covered with old farm tools comprised the walls and fake kerosene lamps burned on tables surrounded by benches.

Chris led the foursome to one of the long tables already occupied by several couples who were passing out songbooks for caroling.

“Ken and I will get drinks.”

“Diet Coke for me,” Leslie said. Though tiny, she was forever dieting.

“Regular,” Megan said.

Chris nodded. “We'll be right back.”

As Megan and Leslie slid onto a bench, Megan took a look at the other couples. Her heart sank. Every girl at the table was poised and beautiful and knew it. Shiny hair, bright smiles with perfect teeth, makeup applied as if by a professional, tittering laughter, and each and every one reminded Megan of Natalie.

A slim blonde cast a radiant smile in Megan's direction. “Hi, I'm Claire Wakefield. Welcome to the sleigh ride. It's a great night for it.”

“Thanks. I'm Megan Simmons, and this is my friend, Leslie Baker. We're with Chris and Ken.” Megan motioned in the direction of the two boys, who were still busy ordering drinks.

“Is this your first sleigh ride?” Claire asked. “I don't remember seeing you here before.”

As Megan and Leslie nodded, she said, “You're not from Upland-Gable,” the all-girls high school that was a counterpart to LaSalle, a private, exclusive school that was rumored to be merging with the boys' school if things worked out.

“We're from Central.”

“Oh!” The tone said it all. The friendly sparkle in Claire's eyes died, and she turned back to her friends, effectively shunning the newcomers.

“They're giving me an inferiority complex,” Leslie whispered.

“No way. You've already got one.”

“Thanks.”

“Of Freudian proportions.”

Of course there was no reason for it. Leslie was short and cute and could hold her own with any of the girls from Upland-Gable.

Megan caught a sideways glance from Claire. The girl was whispering with her friends, just out of earshot as the restaurant was noisy, other customers arriving, pizza orders being shouted, music flowing from speakers mounted high in the rafters.

“Sometimes it sucks being the ‘nice' girls,” Leslie said, bringing up an old topic, one that always reared its ugly head whenever comparisons to the more popular girls were made.

“I know.” At the moment Megan wasn't feeling very nice. At all. As a matter of fact she was feeling downright mean, which she effectively controlled as Ken and Chris arrived with a tray of sodas.

They got on pretty well, talking and laughing, comparing schools. Ken was funny, his sense of humor not as dry as Chris's, but conversation didn't lag. Megan was enjoying herself, though every once in a while she would catch sight of Claire looking her way.

Who cared?

Within a few minutes, the rest of the carolers had arrived, and the sleighs were waiting outside, parked near the entrance of the Hayloft. The ride consisted of ten sleighs, crammed to capacity with carolers. Unfortunately, Megan and Leslie were split up as Ken and Chris had volunteered to drive different sleighs.

“How on earth are we all going to sing in unison?” Megan asked Chris as he helped her up to the front seat behind a huge black horse that was pulling at his bridle, snorting and pawing.

“We're not. As I understand it, each sleigh takes off five minutes after the one ahead of it, and we all sing at our own pace. When we converge at the park, we'll sing about four or five carols together and then return to the Hayloft. The senior class has rented it for the night, and the dance will be held there.”

It sounded a little old school to Megan, but then it was all part of the LaSalle tradition. Chris helped all the passengers aboard. Unfortunately Claire and her date ended up in the same sleigh.
Great,
thought Megan.
Not only do I not get to be with Leslie and Ken, but I end up with Claire and Brad What's-His-Name, a loud basketball type.
But if she was worried about small talk, it was no problem. As Claire climbed into her seat, she managed to look right through Megan even though Brad gave her a quick head-to-heels appraisal.

Made for each other!
Megan thought.

Chris got back into the driver's seat and tucked a thick plaid blanket around Megan before they took off. As the horse pulled the sleigh, Megan snuggled next to Chris, and together they sang the familiar old carols. Chris's deep baritone voice was more than slightly off-key, but he didn't seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn't care. Megan joined in wholeheartedly, and when either she or Chris hit a particularly bad note, she laughed. And all the while Claire's boyfriend talked, cracking off-color jokes and going on and on about his “awesome” last game, then pulling his own blanket high over the lower half of his face as if to ward off the cold.

Somehow Megan managed to ignore Brad, and, between songs, she and Chris talked. Chris told her of growing up in the suburbs of Boston, where he'd lived before moving to Connecticut. Every once in a while Adam's name would crop up in the conversation and, each time, Megan felt a sharp stab of pain. She tried to ignore it, telling herself that she didn't care that Adam and Natalie were wed. But that was a lie. She didn't want to think of Adam and Natalie, or the fact that they were man and wife. She wanted to enjoy the evening as the draft horse plodded through the snow, and the sleigh slid beneath the streetlamps, and snowflakes, continually falling, danced and swirled around them. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear faint Christmas songs and laughter from the other sleighs.

“Are you warm enough?” Chris asked.

She nodded her head in jerky movements to indicate that she felt fine, but her chattering chin gave her away. He hugged her closer, and it felt right.

All too soon, he said, “Here's the park,” pointing in the direction of the trees. “Let's pull up next to the pond before we join the others.”

Chris directed the horse over to the icy pond. Several wobbly-legged children and cautious parents were precariously skating by the streetlamp's light. The carolers were suddenly quiet, entranced by the scene. Even Claire's loudmouth of a boyfriend had become still, at least for the moment; then he ducked under the blanket again.

The black horse snorted; steam rose from his nostrils. He nickered softly, and somewhere close by, another horse answered. For a heartbeat it was as if she and Chris were captured in a magical dreamland. He reached under the blanket and took one of her gloved hands in his, and she didn't pull away.

“I'd like to spend some more time here, but I think that maybe we'd better join the others,” he said.

She nodded her agreement, and he flicked the reins, allowing the anxious horse to trot off in the direction of the other sleighs and carolers.

When they joined the group, Megan and Chris caught up with Leslie and Ken. He had his arm around her, and they whispered together, laughing as if they'd known each other for years.

When Megan caught Leslie alone, the other girl said, “Okay, you win. I thought this would be a nightmare but Ken . . . He's great.” Leslie was actually blushing as she glanced over at the boys, who were talking with some others. “We had a great time. And the Upland-Gable girls were okay.”

“Seriously?” Megan couldn't believe it.

“Yeah. Real friendly.”

“But Claire—?”

“Is stuck on herself. And on Chris. That's what the girls in my sleigh said.”

“She's with the basketball jerk—er, jock.”

“I know,” Leslie said, “but everyone said she's been interested in Chris since he transferred from Boston.”

That explained a lot, and Megan felt more than a little bit of jealousy until Chris returned and hooked his arm around her waist. It seemed the most natural thing for him to do. As they sang a few more carols she told herself not to listen to Leslie's gossip, but that was before Megan, turning her head, caught Claire's frosty glare. Her blond hair glistening in the lamplight, Claire whispered a private joke to her date. Brad laughed out loud, then cast a sly, sidelong look in Megan's direction. Subtle, the basketball geek was not. Obviously Claire had made Megan the butt of some bad joke. She was an outsider, but then, that wasn't exactly a news flash.

When the caroling was finished, Chris once again began helping the kids into his sleigh. Megan couldn't help seeing the wistful looks that Claire cast in his direction and, when it was her turn to board the vehicle, Claire paused for a moment, letting her full weight rest on Chris as she stepped upward into the sleigh. She seemed to slip, and then caught herself by clinging to Chris's neck.

“Damn it!” she swore, her pretty face puckering. “It's these new boots. The leather is so slick in the snow.”

“Be careful,” Chris cautioned as he assisted her. “Are you all right?”

“I . . . think so,” she said, looking into his eyes. Her gloved hand slid and lingered across his shoulders, and Megan thought she might be sick. Claire's damsel-in-distress ploy was right out of some of those stupid romantic movies Natalie watched late at night, a move that seemed to be from the sixties.