Page 48 of The Christmas Keepsake
She looked at him again. “I don’t really go on many dates. It’s hard for me to relax, and I certainly don’t know how to respond when someone is showering me with compliments and telling me how I’ve changed their life. I just… I don’t know what to say. Or what to do.”
His hand covered hers. “You’re doing a fairly good job right now… If it helps you feel better, I’m not any good at this stuff either. All I know is—” He shook his head.
“What?” she asked.
He weighed whether to tell her. “I want to kiss you right now, maybe more than I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone in my entire life. But I don’t want to ever do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Mallory’s eyes sparkled with the lights reflecting off the water into the front windshield. Then she leaned in his direction. “Maybe I want you to kiss me too.”
His heart felt like a fish that had flopped right out of that lake in front of them, landing on the banks, gasping for breath that could only be found on her lips. “Maybe?”
“Definitely.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, his voice dipping low as he leaned in the rest of the way, hoping he didn’t screw this moment up because this would be their first kiss, but he sure as heck didn’t want it to be their last.
The End Ornament
The End. It’s the two most precious words a writer can type. Find this ornament in the box numbered with a 7. It should fall right around the middle of your tree on the branches. The middle of a play is always the intermission, but here’s a secret. The intermission is for the audience. The characters in the story usually feel like that moment is The End.
Here’s the story.
After Ralph and the crew finished up the theater, my mother paid them to build a tiny home for me and the baby to live in right there in the back of the property. It wasn’t much bigger than a living room, but in that space, I had a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. A laundry room too!
While the tiny home was being built, I wrote my first play. I wanted it to be the theater’s first production and, appropriately, I titled itSanta, Babybecause Christmas was coming and so was this ball of joy growing inside me. I’d come to terms with my first love marrying another woman. I won’t say it didn’t hurt watching them exchange their vows. My mother begged me not to attend. I think she worried I might stand up and object to the union. I didn’t. I stayed quiet, fancying myself a martyr because Ralph would surely pick the baby and me if he knew the truth. Was that what he wanted?
In hindsight, I know that’s all rubbish. I was young and foolish though.
“Thought you wanted to be a star,” Mickey Whatley said one night, taking a seat beside me on a little loveseat in the theater dressing room. Mickey had helpedwith the construction of the theater and the house. He’d taken to lingering after the work, not in a bad way. His company was nice.
“I am the star,” I said, this silly grin on my face. “I feel like the main character in this play as I’m writing it. I can see everything in my mind. My mind is, well, it’s the stage, I guess.”
“So, if you’re the star in your head in that play of yours, who’s the leading man?” he asked.
Ralph. I couldn’t say that, of course. Ralph was a married man now.
“Listen, Nan,” Mickey said, “I know I’m not some handsome actor. I know I’m just some small-town guy. I can’t give you the world…”
The serious note in his voice caught me by surprise. I remember thinking he was so cocky on that date we’d gone on, but now I saw something different. Had I mistaken his efforts to impress me?
“A baby needs a father figure. A mother needs support.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“I know. You’re a strong woman, Nan. That’s what I admire about you. You’re strong and smart. Maybe you don’t fancy me that way.”
“What way?” I asked.
“The way I fancy you.”
The air was thick. Here I was, pregnant. My feet were swollen. I had reflux. And I was starving. Insatiable. “What are you trying to say, Mickey?”
He looked nervous. Adorably so.
“We’ve been on one date,” I told him. And I’d had my eye on someone else for half of that night. “I may be mistaken, but you are talking nonsense.”
“One date, but I’ve known you our entire lives. Nan, I’ve always liked you.”
“What are you saying?”
