Mistletoe Mix-up (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza) Read online

  He’d better stop thinking that way. She was too pretty to not be spoken for, and she’d probably never be interested in a piano nerd.

  “You gashed your toe with those broken lights. I don’t think it needs stitches. The bleeding has already stopped. Let me get a bandage.” She stood and stepped over him once again and into the kitchen. He heard her rummaging through kitchen drawers. She returned with a box of bandages in one hand, and a small brown bottle in the other.

  “It will sting, but I’m going to pour some peroxide on your toe.” Risé knelt beside him, held a wad of paper towels under his foot, and then poured the bubbling peroxide on his foot.

  The disinfectant stung. It didn’t last long, though, and he had the comfort of her graceful hands applying the adhesive bandage.

  She patted his foot, stood, and then reached for his hand. “Can you walk?”

  He gave her his hand and then stood. “Sure.” He limped out of the pantry on his heel.

  Rise threw the paper towels in the trash under the sink, and then rinsed the bloody towel and sock. She tossed them into the washing machine by the back door.

  Evan sat at the kitchen table. “You’re pretty good at that.”

  “Thanks. I’ve always wanted to be a nurse.

  “But aren’t you in chef school?”

  “No, it’s Home Economics with an emphasis on Culinary Arts. Dad’s idea. I can’t really blame him, because I didn’t know what I wanted to do when it came time for college. Mom was sick and everything. I like to cook, so we agreed on that. I’ve been going for two years.” She sat down at the table across from him. “I’ve decided to go into the nursing program.”

  “Good idea.” He imagined her in soft green scrubs, hair piled on top of her head, stethoscope around her neck.

  “I don’t know how I’ll tell Dad. I don’t want to disappoint him. I’ve got my basics out of the way at State, and I’ve already been accepted in the nursing program.” She tapped her fingers on the table.

  “Why would he be disappointed? If it’s what you want to do, I mean.”

  “I don’t think it’s the change of major that will bother him, but the fact that I’ve withdrawn from school and enrolled in a local program. It’s kind of like starting over. Besides, I want to be near. His recent diagnosis has me worried.” She crossed her arms and bit her lower lip.

  Right. His heart. “I don’t know your dad that well, but I’d think he’d be proud either way.”

  “It’s just that I think he feels a certain amount of relief thinking that I’ll soon have my degree, and be married to a med student. None of that is happening now. I just don’t know how to tell him.” Her eyes glistened as if she might cry.

  The blue sparkles made him think of the way Christmas lights looked without his glasses. Magical. So, a broken engagement. Too soon to be thinking about a new boyfriend, and it wouldn’t be him, anyway. He shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. He wished his mom were around to talk to. At least Risé’s dad cared about her. “Well, maybe the sooner you tell him, the sooner you can deal with his reaction. Best get it over with.” Probably lame, but she seemed to be searching his eyes for an answer.

  “I don’t want to ruin Christmas. I’ll wait until after then break the news.”

  He nodded. He couldn’t think of anything to say. If he could just get to the piano and play out his emotions. Was there a girl in the world who would respond to that? “I need to go and change my socks and put my shoes back on. Lots of decorating to do,” he said. He could sit for hours mesmerized by her silken hair and shining eyes, but he was used to not getting what he wanted. The piano was the only thing that stayed with him.

  “Sure, let me get Dad. He said he would come over and help you. I’ll let him know you’re ready.”

  Wait.

  “Uhhh, no!” Hadn’t Mr. Cartier said not to let him help because of his heart? It must be really bad if Risé decided to come home to study locally.

  Her eyes flashed confusion.

  “I mean I don’t need his help. I can handle it.” Please, don’t get mad.

  “He doesn’t mind, Evan. I’ll just go get him.”

  “I don’t want his help.” There would be no heart attack on his watch. It might be the only thing he could do for her.

  “I see,” she said. Her cheeks turned the color of cherry cobbler. She walked down the hall and out the front door.

  “Risé, wait.” He hobbled after her.

  She did not turn around.

  Strike two.

  3

  Risé jogged across the street.

  Evan hated to upset her, and George would probably be mad at him too. So much for a homey holiday. Watching Risé made him think of his mother. Always leaving. Whatever. He’d be gone in a couple weeks, himself.

  Injured toe or no, he had to get the Christmas lights up. He hobbled down to the basement and back six times, bringing up all the decorations he could find. There seemed to be plenty of outdoor lights, and after plugging them in and replacing a few bulbs, he decided the damaged ones wouldn’t be missed. Next, he brought up a ladder.

  Except for his toe throbbing with each step up and down the ladder, the outside lights proved easy. Hooks to hold them up marked where Carter had strung lights in years past. Evan wondered how long it had been since the Carters had decorated.

  It took him most of the morning to line the roof, the windows, and the front door. They seemed all right in the daylight, but he looked forward to seeing how they’d sparkle at night. The neighbors would probably be glad to have the one dark spot on the block illuminated.

  A twinge of guilt marred the sense of accomplishment he felt. Carter specifically mentioned twice not to let Mr. Larkin help due to his heart condition. Maybe Carter had exaggerated, because Risé didn’t seem too concerned about her father helping.

  Evan pushed down the sweet sensations he’d experienced in her presence that morning. He’d just forget it. He didn’t need anything to distract him from practicing for his recital. That was what mattered, the only thing he really had to call his own.

  His stomach started protesting around one o’clock, so he went inside to scrounge some lunch. A can of chicken noodle soup and some crackers from the pantry hit the spot.

  His mind kept wandering to Risé perched on the couch drinking her coffee—the way her lips puckered as she blew across the steam rising from her cup. Her smile, so comfortable and welcoming. Loving. As if that were the foundation of her whole being. Yet Carter said she was a bit temperamental.

  Risé. A melody started forming in his heart. He’d always had a Christmas family type picture in his mind, complete with giant peppermint sticks in hot chocolate, but none of the girls he knew seemed to fit into the picture.

  Until now.

  “Stop it, man,” he said to the ceiling. He’d finish lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon practicing.

  The hours whiled away as Evan chose the most difficult measures of each piece, repeating them until he felt confident. When he couldn’t see the notes on the page, he glanced up. Dark had settled. He rushed outside to plug in the Christmas lights.

  Risé and her father stood in their yard looking on.

  Should he speak, or wave? They didn’t seem angry, so he walked across the street and stood next to George.

  “What do you think?” Evan asked.

  “Well done. Very festive. Was wondering about the nativity scene, though,” George said.

  “I guess we didn’t bring that up.” Risé frowned.

  No, they hadn’t. Instead, she’d stormed up the stairs, and he fallen and cut his toe.

  “I’ll bring it up in the morning,” he said.

  “So, are you doing Carol’s tree all by yourself, too?” Risé asked, a twinge of sharpness in her tone.

  “Inside? He didn’t say anything about that.” Maybe Carter assumed Evan would do that, too. He had said he wanted everything ready.

  “If you want help, we’ll come over tomor
row.” George took a defensive stance, arms crossed.

  “Um, sure, the inside, that’d be great.” Evan stuck his hands in his pockets. He’d mend the relationship as best he could. “I’m really sorry about refusing your help. It’s just that Mr. Carter said—”

  “Oh, I thought about it. He just wants to win the neighborhood light contest and take all the credit. If I help, then he’d have to share it with me. It’s a bit of a rivalry. No offense taken.” George zipped up his jacket against a sudden cold wind. “He’s a real character, Fin is.”

  You got that right. “Oh, right. OK, then.” Compared to the over-the-top displays around the neighborhood, neither Carter nor George had a chance to win.

  “Would you like to come in for some hot chocolate?” George asked, turning toward his front door.

  Evan looked at Risé, who glared at her dad, and then gave a disagreeable frown.

  He started to take the invitation, but remembered his resolve. No distractions. “I better not. Been on this sore foot all day and I think I’ll turn in early.” That was the truth, but if Risé had looked a little more willing, he’d loved to have joined them.

  “I’m driving Dad to a doctor’s appointment in the morning. We’ll come help set up the tree after lunch. Will that work for you?” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. She must really love the Carters. She obviously wanted their homecoming to be awesome, despite the scoundrel given the assignment.

  He shook off the hope that she wanted to help to be with him.

  “That’ll work. ’Night.” He’d have the Christmas tree set up and ready to be decorated before George and Risé came over. Then, he’d disappear, and they could put up the ornaments without a stranger’s intrusion on their memories. He’d help Risé with the Christmas dinner, as promised, so he’d have to endure her scorn that day.

  The Cartier/Carter’s were supposed to be leaving the day after Christmas. He couldn’t imagine that happening with Carol’s illness. He’d just pack up and go back to school after he took the decorations down for them. He could practice in the college music rooms. The maintenance people had had mercy on him in the past when he’d been left to spend the holidays in the dorm.

  But something inside told him it wouldn’t be that easy.

  ~*~

  Risé tried to keep her focus on the road as she drove home from Dad’s appointment. He sat on the passenger side, quietly reading the pamphlets about the diet Dr. Parker suggested he follow.

  Jeff hadn’t bothered to call. Two years of holding hands, sweet kisses, and working together in the Children’s department at church meant nothing. They’d prayed together about many things, including her father’s health, They’d made plans, gone on long walks in the park. And all of it culminated into one, heartbreaking truth. “Sleep with me before we’re married or the wedding won’t happen.” His demand created a rift that could never be repaired.

  She couldn’t wrap her head around his anger. He’d acted as though she’d betrayed him. Perhaps she did by letting things get out of hand and then pushing him away, but he’d known how she felt about that all along. He didn’t want to wait. That was a deal breaker for her.

  It really, really hurt.

  She turned down Front Street, glared toward the Carters’ house, and then pulled into her driveway. She probably shouldn’t be so hard on Evan. But something about the presence of a tall, dark-haired man with chocolate, puppy dog eyes made her feel…well, she wasn’t sure. He was so easy to talk to, until he said something dumb.

  “Doc says my numbers are good. Should afford me a few holiday treats.” Dad rubbed his hands together as though he were about to tear into a spiced pumpkin cream log, his favorite.

  “Now, Dad, we talked about this.” Risé turned off the ignition. “I’ll find something you can eat. I promise. I don’t want you getting sick.”

  “At least I don’t have to take insulin shots,” he said.

  “Yet.” Rise dropped her keys into her purse.

  “Yes, ma’am. I will obey.” He winked and then play-punched her shoulder.

  “I mean it. No sneaking sugar cookies and chocolate peppermint candy.” She took his hand in hers.

  “Won’t be possible. There’s not a drop of sugar in the house. Bah humbug.” He laughed. “Say, could we continue with our conversation from yesterday? I’m trying not to press you, but you’re not yourself.”

  “We could, except that you volunteered us to help decorate the tree with that guy across the street.” She opened the door and got out, slamming it shut. She turned back to the car. Her dad still sat there, arms crossed, looking at her as if she were crazy. What’s wrong with me? She got back into the car. “Dad, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “I understand. I mean, I think I do. Something’s bothering you, and I’m guessing it’s Jeff. I think you’re taking it out on Evan for some reason.” He reached for her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “Evan is a jerk in his own right.” She took a deep breath. “Jeff and I broke up, Dad. Please don’t make me talk about it yet. I’m still trying to process it myself.” I will not cry. I will not cry. Tears streamed down her face.

  Dad scooted over and hugged her. “I’m so sorry. How awful. Sure, we’ll talk about it when you’re ready. I’ll keep my mouth shut. But please, do tell me about it.”

  “I will Dad, but right now we have to help Evan get Carol and Fin’s tree up.”

  And I’ll tell you something else you won’t like.

  4

  Evan set up the artificial Christmas tree. The fake blue spruce had seen better days, but lights and ornaments would mask most of the bare spots. He strung the lights. It needed another string or two. Perhaps the five dollars in the envelope stashed in the kitchen drawer would suffice to buy more. Carter must have thought it a joke to provide only a fiver.

  Something about the worn cardboard box marked ‘Ornaments’ seemed too sacred to open. Maybe he should leave Risé and George to do it without him. The Carters were special to them. He’d just be an intruder.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Hi, Evan,” George said and walked in. “I see you’ve put the tree up already.” He stood back from the spruce, arms crossed.

  Risé gave him a weak smile and followed her father.

  “Yes, I did that part,” Evan said, as he walked behind Risé. “Now I’m gonna disappear and let the two of you decorate your friends’ tree in peace. I’ve got a few errands to run.”

  He ventured a glance at Risé, but she didn’t meet his gaze. She nestled into her cocoon on the couch and stared at the tree, eyes tearing over. Their awkward silence made his neck muscles tense.

  “Well, um, OK, I’ll be back later.”

  “Wait, Evan. Would you mind playing some Christmas music?” George asked.

  “I guess not. Anything in particular?” He squashed the desire to bolt.

  “There’s an old volume of holiday favorites in the piano bench,” Risé said. Her face softened. “Just play any of them. I love them all.”

  He rummaged in the bench until he found the book. He started with “Silent Night”, glad for the chance to disengage from Risé and her dad. Their somber mood must be connected with decorating. Or maybe George was upset with her news about switching majors, if she’d told him.

  Tinkling bells and soft laughter drifted across the room as Risé and George spread out the decorations. Their reminiscent conversation seemed too sacred for Evan’s ears. Yet, he wished he was part of it.

  “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” seemed just the bittersweet melody needed. He could hear Risé and George singing along. As he finished, something about the minor key and tone of the song made him think of his E minor nocturne. He segued into it naturally. The unbroken line of triplets against pairs of eighth notes had been so hard at first, but he’d mastered it. It reminded him of how his life always seemed to go against the stream. The first time he heard the Chopin nocturne, it had called to something deep inside.
He’d slaved over it until it became the background music to his life.

  The hardest part to play, although not the most difficult, were the last few lines. The mood changed. The melody became more hopeful, culminating with a final, major key chord. He wanted that hope, a happy ending, but it never seemed to form. This time, as he approached the phrases, his mind’s eye settled on Risé. He could see her snuggled into her spot on the couch, resting with the hot cup of coffee.

  Lost in the music and the hopeful vision of the beautiful girl he’d already lost, he crossed his right hand over his left for the final chord. He didn’t even know his eyes were closed until he felt the warm, feather-like pressure of her hand on his shoulder.

  “Wow,” she said in a whisper. “Just…wow.”

  “You have an inspired talent there, my boy,” George said.

  They both were standing beside the piano. How long they’d been there, he didn’t know. His mom called it his “zoned out world.” Besides the abject embarrassment of playing in that zone oblivious to other people, now they would look at him differently. People always did.

  He flipped the page on the Christmas song book and started playing “Holly Jolly Christmas.” He hoped they’d return to their decorating and stop gawking at him.

  “Well, OK, then,” Risé said, and walked back to the tree.

  George followed her.

  Evan’s safe place, his excuse not to have to interact with people, had become a defense mechanism—a way to escape, but ironically, also to be recognized. The pain of his mother’s escapades and his not being enough of a son for her was assuaged only through his hours at the piano, lost in the only world he could control. Loneliness and the desire to gain acceptance sent him there, but as his skill increased, the effect his playing had on other people only increased his loneliness.

  He ceased to be Evan the person, and became Evan the pianist. At first, that was fine; he depended on the piano to get him out of awkward situations, reveled in the focus being on his talent instead of his shortcomings as a son. But then, people seemed to relate to him only by his skill, his passion. There was more to him than that.