Page 45 of Tiger's Destiny
by Walter de la Mare
Sitting under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
One last candle burning low,
All the sleepy dancers gone,
Just one candle burning on,
Shadows lurking everywhere:
Someone came, and kissed me there.
Tired I was; my head would go
Nodding under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
Stooped in the still and shadowy air
Lips unseen—and kissed me there.
Merry Christmas, iadala.
—Ren
With trembling fingers, I pressed the page and the mistletoe into my journal. I stood there fingering the leaves of the plant, imagining Ren dressed in a tux and yanking me under the mistletoe for a kiss. After a few seconds of delicious fantasy, I mentally rebuffed myself.
What kind of a person am I? How can I go from kissing one man, my fiancé, no less, to daydreaming about being swept away by his brother? Something is seriously wrong with me.
I quoted my personalized serenity prayer, rededicated myself to the path I’d chosen, and met Kishan at the table. He smoothly set up the game board, not noticing a thing.
The next morning, I woke bright and early, left the snoring black tiger on the floor, and headed up to Mr. Kadam’s fabulous kitchen to make the best-ever Christmas breakfast for all three of us. The window panels slid back with the push of a button. With the amazing view for inspiration, I set the table for breakfast, humming until a noise startled me.
Ren stood framed in the doorway. My eyes darted up to his blue ones as he handed me a bouquet of lilacs.
“Merry Christmas,” he said as he handed me the flowers.
I took them and said quietly, “You’ve already given me more than enough.”
“When a man gives a woman a lilac. . . .”
“He’s asking her a question,” I finished.
“You remember.”
I turned away. “Did you think I would forget?”
He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. “I love you, Kelsey. What I feel for you is more than gratitude, more than attraction, more than affection. I never wrote a poem with exclamation points until I met you. You’re the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins, and the courage in my heart. I’m an empty shell without you.”
He cupped my face with his palms. “You illuminate my soul with the warm glow of your love and devotion. Even now, I can feel it and it sustains me. You can deny what you feel with your words, but your heart is still mine,iadala.”
