Down Home Carolina Christmas (19 page)

“Dixie sent me over with the aspirin,” he said.

She stared up at him, her eyes enormously round. She'd drawn her hair up in a knot on top of her head, and wisps framed her face. She was wearing an old nightgown under all those covers, one he recognized as the high-necked Mother Hubbard garment that had hung on the back of her closet door. He'd teased her about it a couple of times, threatening that if she ever wore it in bed with him, he'd rip it right off. Now he had no intention of doing such a thing. All he wanted was to feast his eyes on her.

“Happy birthday,” she croaked.

“To you, too,” he added, setting the aspirin down on the bedside table. He was awash with regret over the past several weeks. He'd missed her more than she could ever imagine.

“I was sure I was dreaming when you appeared at the door. I knew you weren't real.”

“I'm real enough,” he said. He noticed a videotape at the bottom of the bed. It was
Frankly, Roberta,
the romantic comedy that had set him on the way to stardom. She noticed him studying it and smiled slightly.

“I tried to watch it, but I was so sick I never made it past the screen credits,” she said.

He felt her forehead. It was hot. “Maybe you should take a couple of those aspirin,” he suggested.

She glanced at the clock. “Would you mind refilling my water glass?”

He did, then handed it to her. “Do you need ice? Anything?”

“Nothing,” she said. She swallowed the aspirin and put the glass down beside the bottle, closing her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them, she said, “You'd better leave. You don't want to catch this flu or whatever it is. It's awful.”

“I'm staying right here,” he told her. He sat on the edge of the bed, uninvited. She didn't ask him to get up. Their eyes caught and held.

“Luke,” she said.

“Mmm?”

“I'm glad you're here. I lied. There's something I need after all.”

He questioned her with a look.

“I need you. You asked what I needed, and I said nothing. It wasn't true.”

“Carrie,” he said, his heart overflowing. She'd sent him away because she thought he'd never love her. But he did love her. With all his heart. From the very depths of his reclaimed soul.

“I've missed you so much,” she said, her voice giving out before the end of the sentence.

“Shh,” he said, smoothing her hair. “Don't talk yet. You can tell me tomorrow. But there's something that I have to say that can't wait until then.” He gathered her to him, familiar with her scent, the softness of her hair against his cheek.

A whole new world created itself as he held her in his arms. He saw it expanding before him in glorious CinemaScope, Technicolor and 3-D. This light-infused panorama was filled with kind people who cared about one another, a real home that was always waiting to shelter him and a beautiful woman who loved him.

He tightened his embrace. “I love you, Carrie Rose Smith. I've loved you almost from the day I met you at your garage. I should have never let you get away.”

She pulled slightly away from him. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose was swollen and her chapped and peeling lips fell open in amazement.

“I'm never going far away from you again. Ever.”

She hiccuped in reply, then sneezed. He tenderly wiped her nose with a clean tissue.

“I love you, too,” she said.

He lowered her head to the pillow, and while she watched, he removed his jacket, then his pants. She stared as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting into my birthday suit, which seems the appropriate thing to do, considering the date.” He yanked off his socks and tossed them into the corner, then lifted up the edge of the covers and slid in naked beside her. Her body was hot, so hot, and he curved himself around her, easing his hands gratefully up under the warm flannel gown. “At least I'm not going to be cold with my own little bed warmer to keep me cozy,” he said into her ear.

The radio was softly jingling “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Carrie nestled even closer, sighed and wiggled her feet familiarly between his.

“I think we should get married,” he said to the back of her head.

She became very still. “Why?” she asked.

He kissed her neck, rounded his hand around one breast. “Because we love each other. Because we don't wish to be apart. And because we're really good together in bed.”

“You can't want to make love to me right
now.
I'm a mess,” she said.

“I always want to make love to you,” he shot back.

Undeterred, she said, “We can't get married. Our lifestyles don't mesh.”

“I have to be in California, but not all the time. We could live right here at the home place, with my parents next door, your sister only ten minutes away and Memaw Frances nearby. We could raise our children here, Carrie.”

“Children?”

“Lots of children. Some of whom will have an aptitude for auto mechanics.”

“What about Smitty's?”

“Sell it to Hub. He'd like having his own business.”

“I'd miss it.”

“Lose a garage—gain a car. I'll let you work on my Ferrari whenever you like, warranty or no warranty.”

“Awesome.” After that pronouncement she was so quiet for such a long time that he thought she'd fallen asleep.

Then, “Will it work? Can it?”

“Lots of movie stars have left Hollywood because they'd rather live somewhere else. Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward in Connecticut. Robert Redford in Idaho. Why not Luke Mason in Yewville, South Carolina?” he said. He was interrupted when Killer jumped up on the bed between them. Luke immediately slid out from under the covers and retrieved his socks from the corner where he'd tossed them earlier.

“No point in tempting Killer,” Luke said as he tugged them on one after the other. “He's probably calculating how soon he can sink his fangs into my foot.” He got back into bed and wrapped his arms around Carrie again. On top of the blankets, the rabbit curled happily into the valley of warmth between their legs.

“Will I come with you when you have to be in Hollywood?” Carrie asked.

He smiled. “I can't wait to show you my house in Malibu. It's right on the beach and has a pool with marble statues standing around looking classic. Five bedrooms, seven huge bathrooms. Your whole family can visit whenever you like—I'll fly them in my plane. We won't be there much, though. I want to be right here where we are now.”

“I can't imagine a big house like yours, Luke. Or Malibu. I've never been anywhere on vacation but Myrtle Beach. Atlanta has always seemed far away, so I can't really picture California.” Her voice trailed off, giving out at last.

“We'll go there as soon as you get well. Then it's Paris for our honeymoon.”

“Paris.” The word was almost inaudible. “Like Tiffany and Peyton.”

“Go to sleep, my dearest Carrie. Get well soon. And happy, happy birthday.”

“I'm feeling better already. Oh, Luke, merry, merry Christmas,” she whispered back.

And so it was.

From the February 26 issue of
People:

LUKE MASON'S VALENTINE SURPRISE

(
ACCOMPANIED BY A HALF-PAGE PHOTO OF THE HAPPY COUPLE
)

Luke Mason has often been accused of keeping a low profile.

“Luke's famous for jumping in his Ferrari and heading off to parts unknown,” his manager, Dave Pilzer, told us.

Well, never quite so unknown as Yewville, South Carolina, home of the world-famous peachoid water tower, where the World's Sexiest Man wed Carolina Rose Smith in a secret Valentine's Day ceremony.

Luke spoke to us from his new home there, a hundred-year-old farmhouse he now lives in with his bride and, he informs us, a lop-eared rabbit.

“My wife and I met last summer while I was on location here for
Dangerous,
a movie about legendary Southern race-car driver Yancey Goforth,” he said. “Carrie captivated me with her charm, her beauty and, oh, yes, great oil change.”

At the time, Carolina Smith was the owner and chief mechanic of Smitty's Garage, a Yewville landmark where several scenes of
Dangerous
were filmed. The movie opens in theaters this fall.

Tiffany Zill, who plays Yancey Goforth's wife in the film, was invited to the hush-hush wedding.

“Carrie was my dialogue coach on location,” Tiffany said when we reached her at the villa in France that she shares with hotel magnate Peyton Kirk. “She's one of my best buddies, and I'm very happy for her and Luke.”

Guests describe the wedding as an intimate affair, with only close friends and relatives of the couple present.

“We were invited by phone, no fancy invitations or anything like that,” said Joy Morris, a friend of the bride and former resident of Yewville who now calls Hollywood home. “Carrie wore a stunning white floor-length crepe de chine gown and carried a bouquet of roses. Check out my new Web site at www.joymorris.com for a picture of me with the radiant bride.”

The couple will soon head for Italy, where Luke will begin work on his next film and the new Mrs. Mason has enrolled in—are you ready for this?—a certification course for Ferrari mechanics.

“I gained not only a wife but an excellent mechanic for my car. Who wouldn't marry such a special person?” said a jubilant Mason.

Who, indeed.