Page 11 of Holly Jolly Heresy
“We’re happy to have the costumes go to a good home.” Father David peered around Caleb’s shoulder. “Is this one of your students?”
A surprised, choking sound burst from Caleb’s lips as Molly appeared at his side. “Molly Proulx,” she said, extending her hand towards the older man. “I’m an English teacher at St. Anthony’s.”
Father David’s full belly laugh would have been more at home on a mall Santa. “My mistake! You’ll have to excuse me, Ms. Proulx. When you get to be our age, all youth seems so out of reach, it’s hard to tell how old someone is,” he said, gesturing between himself and Caleb.
Molly frowned. Father David seemed significantly older than Caleb. Sure, Caleb’s hair was going gray at the temples and in the scruff of his facial hair, but Father David had hardly any hair at all. Where Caleb was toned and lean, Father David was round and soft.
Caleb’s horrified expression quickly morphed into one of practiced deflection. “I think you’ve got at least a decade on me, Father.”
“Maybe, maybe. Come inside. It’s freezing out here. Let’s get your car loaded up and get you on your way before this snow starts falling in earnest.”
They followed Father David inside a building that looked so much like St. Anthony’s—the same tan brick, the same peachy-pink and off-white tile of so many Catholic schools built in the 1960s. Lagging behind the older priest, Molly leaned close to Caleb and whispered, “Just how oldareyou, Father West?”
“You know I’m forty-six,” he grumbled, “and Father David is pushing sixty. At least.”
Caleb may have been twenty years her senior, but she couldn’t say she’d ever really noticed. Though she supposed that was probably because half her friends were coupled up with men significantly older than them—including one of her best friends, Kyla, who had married Caleb’s brother, Gavin, despite their own twenty-year age difference, and the fact Kyla used to date Gavin’s son.
Not that Kyla and Gavin’s situation was particularly relevant to Molly and Caleb since they would never be more than colleagues. And friends. Frolleagues. Even if Caleb had starred in some of her more inconvenient,verydirty, decidedly non-frolleague-like thoughts.
“Here we are,” Father David said, holding open the door to a classroom at the end of the long hall. The blinds were drawn, and rolling clothing racks, each heavily hung with more costumes than Molly had ever seen in one place, filled the room. There was an entire rack devoted to angel wings—sparkly ones that looked more like fairy wings and iridescent ones that reminded her of dragonflies—and another just for farm animals, though those outfits looked more like onesie pajamas than anything. Bankers’ boxes and a roll of large black garbage bags sat next to the door, waiting to be filled. “Help yourselfto whatever you’d like. The rest will go to the Goodwill in the morning. I’ll be just down the hall if you need me.”
Alone with the daunting task of packing up the costume collection, Molly and Caleb spun around, taking in the enormity of the task. “Were you expecting this much?” Molly asked.
Caleb pinched the green polyester of one of the costumes between his fingers. “I thought there’d be a few angel wings and some robes, not an entire corner dedicated to elf costumes.”
“Can we please take some of these back? Just to mess with Bruce a little?” Molly asked, holding up a reindeer antler headband.
“I say we take as much of it as we can fit in the car.”
The reindeer antlers were just the tip of the iceberg. Behind the rack of elf costumes ranging from demure to scandalous candy-striped fantasy, and behind the refrigerator box full of shepherd’s crooks of various sizes, was an entire section of Santa costumes. There was the traditional red with oversized black buckles, of course, but also a floor length green velvet with gold tassels that looked more like the Ghost of Christmas Present, and a small section of short red velvet dresses with white faux-fur trim. Molly held one of the dresses up against herself and turned to face the floor-length mirror leaning against the back wall. The fabric ended high up on her thigh and the top would be scandalously low cut—it had clearly been made for a smaller woman—but she was intrigued nonetheless.
“I don’t understand why a Catholic school has all these secular costumes. I thought the Church was against Santa,” she said, smoothing the dress where it lay over her full hips.
“No one’s against Santa. The Church just wants to keep the focus on—” Caleb turned from where he’d been carefully boxing angel wings, his eyes snagging on Molly. He froze, his fist tightening around the edge of one iridescent angel wing,bending the flimsy wire frame. “—Christ,” he finished, the word mostly an exhale.
She shouldn’t like the way his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched, the gravel sneaking into that last word as his gaze swept over her. She shouldn’t be dying to know what he might say, how he might look at her, if she actually put the dress on instead of just holding it against her body.
And there are those damn butterflies again.
“I think I’m going to keep this one for myself,” she said.
Caleb swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
“The girls and I always go to the Christmas party at The Bay Breeze and I never have a good costume,” she explained as she slid the dress off the hanger and folded it carefully. “At least not as good as Jo’s.”
“You should keep it then,” he said, some of the roughness lingering in his tone. He cleared his throat and turned back to the angel wings, straightening the wire he’d accidentally bent while she tucked the small bundle of fabric into her purse.
“Maybe this year we’ll convince you guys to come with us to the party instead of having one of your game nights at Ethan’s.” She grabbed a Santa hat from the top of the nearest rack and placed it on Caleb’s head, eager for the distraction from the sudden heat pulsing between them.
He arched an eyebrow and pointed to the hat. “Is this my costume?”
“It’s a start.” She snatched the red velvet coat next and helped him into it, his amused smirk growing by the second. Her hands lingered on his chest, straightening the white fur trim as she did her best not to notice how firm his pecs were beneath her hands. Her index finger swept a gentle arc over the white clerical collar at the base of his throat, and he sucked in a breath. Instantly, she dropped her hands and stepped back.
What are you doing? You can’t justtouchhim. He’s a priest, for God’s sake.
Molly spun back to the rack of Santa costumes. “I think we’ve probably got all we need from this rack. I’ll go start on the elves.” She scurried across the room, darting behind a rack of green and red candy-cane-striped costumes. Once she was out of sight, she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.
It’s just a stupid crush. You’ll get over it.
