Forever This Time (38 page)

Josie stared at the last embers of the fire Dad had started hours ago in a delusional fit. Because, of course, a fire in the fireplace would make it feel like Christmas even if Mom was already half in the bag and he was already half out the door. She drained her glass of eggnog and picked up the Malibu Barbie Mom had ordered from the Internet. It was exactly what she'd wanted … eight years ago. Same with the stuffed puppy and Easy-Bake oven on the coffee table.

She leaned over to look down the hall, but there wasn't a sound. Dad had left for the park two hours ago, and Mom had responded by finishing her bottle of Stoli and dragging her muttering self to bed. At least there hadn't been screaming this year.

Josie reached under the couch and brought out three gaily wrapped packages with bows and ribbons and shiny tags, all addressed to her. She opened the first one and gasped dramatically. It was the book she'd been eyeing at Turn-the-Page for weeks. Four hundred pages of pure, unadulterated escapism, and she couldn't wait to sink into the recliner and start it. The next package was a CD of the group Ethan had taken her to see in Boston. Just listening to it would bring her back to that long car ride together, the energy of the concert … the whole weekend away from Camp Ho-Ho.

The last present was soft, and at first she grimaced. “Clothes.” Then she smiled and ripped open the paper, pulling out a brand-new Wellesley College sweatshirt. She put it to her cheek, grinning like an idiot. Her early acceptance had come last week, but she hadn't told anyone yet.

She gathered up the paper, folding it carefully, then the ribbon. Lastly, she grabbed the tags so she could make sure they hit the trash before anyone saw them.

After all, seeing three tags marked “To Josie, From Josie” would pretty much peg the pathetic scale, and she didn't need anybody to know she'd bought her own damn Christmas presents this year.

*   *   *

“Jos? You still awake?” Ethan leaned down and whispered in her ear, making her shiver deliciously. Damn him.

She shook her head, knocking the memory out as she pushed back her chair to help clear the rest of the table. “Yup. Sorry. Just a little discombobulated.”

“That a therapist word?” His eyes looked too knowing, like he could see right through her.

“Nope. I'm just trying to process … everything. Avery's House, you…” She motioned to the table, the candles. “This.”

He picked up a bowl of pickles. “I'm really sorry you had to find out about it the way you did. Molly had no right to do that. I really am sorry.”

“You're not responsible for Molly's actions, Ethan.”

“No, but if I'd told you about Avery's House myself, I wouldn't have given her the opening to do it like she did.”

“True. But what's done is done, Ethan. Molly's—she's just trying to protect you.”

“From?”

“Me.”

“I hardly need protecting, especially from—you.”

“Well, she doesn't agree.” Josie picked up the salt and pepper shakers. “And I understand. I do.”

She did. Of all the thoughts flipping through her mind the past three days, this was the part that surprised her the most—this sympathy for Molly's actions. And though she wished Ethan
had
been the one to show her Avery's House, and do it his own way, at least now she knew.

Diana came back through the doorway. “You know what? I think I might head back to the rehab hospital and check on your dad for a bit. I trust you can find something to do to entertain yourselves?”

“Diana, I think you just made your daughter blush.” Ethan winked at Josie as he gathered their plates.

“I'm too old to blush.” Josie grabbed two serving bowls and headed into the kitchen.

Mom joined her at the sink, brushing shoulders conspiratorially. “Never get too old to blush, sweetie.” She washed her hands, then turned to grab her purse off the barstool at the counter. “Leave the dishes. I'll get them later.”

As she headed down the hallway, she blew a kiss. “Be good!”

After they'd done the dishes, Ethan pointed to the gingerbread cookies. “Was she hoping we would decorate these?”

“I have no idea. This is not a scene I've ever been part of before.”

He picked up a cookie and a knife. “I bet I can frost more than you.”

“Oh really? Now you're a pastry chef, too?”

“Nope. Just love cookies. Mom used to let David and me race.”

“That sounds messy. Two boys, frosting, and a race?”

“Yeah. She loved it.”

Josie smiled, picking up a knife and a cookie. “Ready?”

“Set, go!”

He started slathering green frosting on gingerbread men as fast as he could pick them up, but Josie matched his pace for the first few cookies. Then she laughed as she noticed frosting all over his fingers. “You are making a serious mess, Ethan.”

“We're not going for style—just speed.”

“Who's making up these rules?”

“Me, of course.”

“Well, new rule.” She started to reach across the shelf for a new bowl of frosting, but inadvertently caught his spoon with hers on the way, and a glob of frosting smacked into his nose.

His eyes widened so far that she leaped backward off her stool, laughing, almost upending it. He picked up a spoon. “You did not just do that.”

“I didn't mean to!”

“Not sure I believe you.”

He reached toward the counter and pulled a bowl of orange frosting to him, reaching in with his index finger. “Come here, sweet Josie.” His voice was silky, deep, and it was all she could do
not
to walk toward him.

“Nope. Don't
sweet Josie
me.”

He stepped toward her, wiping frosting from his nose. She backed up, but the kitchen was tiny, and she found herself up against the wall in two seconds flat. “Uh-oh. Nowhere to run?” His smile was mischievous.

Josie felt her breath catch as he got closer and closer, and though she knew she should duck and put some space between them, she felt like invisible magnets were holding her in place, waiting for him to close the distance.

And then he was almost touching her. His eyes were suddenly serious as he looked into hers, then looked at her lips, then back at her eyes. “New rule. Winner gets to kiss the loser.”

“You keep making up new rules.” Her voice was doing that breathy, catchy thing again, dammit. “And you're not the winner.”

He leaned closer. “I am, too, the winner. You cheated.”

He reached his hand up to stroke her jaw. Instead of the slightly callused pads of his fingers, though, she felt a creamy paste hit her skin. Before she could react, he nuzzled her neck, planting soft kisses along the trail of frosting. “Mmm. You taste even better than usual.”

She fought to stay standing while he turned her lower half to jelly just by kissing her. Then he pulled away and reached back into the bowl, pupils dark and hungry. She felt her heart pick up speed as she watched him, but couldn't force her voice above a whisper. “What are you doing?”

“I'm thinking of other places I might like to put this.”

“Oh.”
Oh.

He chuckled, then ran his finger along the V-neck of her sweater, leaving a trail of frosting in its wake. He bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her collarbone. “Like here.” Another kiss, one millimeter lower. “And here. And here.” He moved with exquisite tenderness, making her ache with anticipation.

As he slid his hands under her sweater, she moaned involuntarily, and he reached down to pick her up, carrying her into the living room, where Mom had already pulled the curtains. The colored lights of the tree gave a warm glow to the room as he laid her down on the plush carpeting.

He propped himself up on his elbow beside her, and she ran her fingers over the strong lines of his jaw. She could see the tree lights reflected in his eyes, and a Christmas carol played softly from the stereo. For the first time in ten years, the sound of it didn't make her twitch.

“Y'know, I think I could learn to love Christmas again.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” He kissed her nose. “Do you think you could ever learn to love Snowflake Village again?”

“Ooh, now that's more of a stretch.” She smiled. “I don't think I've called it Camp Ho-Ho in at least a day or two, though. Progress, right?”

“How about Avery's House?”

She propped herself up on her elbows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I've been thinking … kind of a lot, actually, since you haven't spoken to me in three days. I know you said you don't really counsel kids all that much…”

“I don't.”

“But I've seen you over the past two weeks. You're not half bad with them.”

“Ethan, please don't extrapolate two emergency situations into me being qualified to counsel kids.”

“I think you're more qualified than you're willing to admit, Josie. Emmy doesn't warm up to just anyone, you know. And yet she glommed right onto you the moment you walked in. Just like Avery did.”

Josie sighed. “That's exactly the problem. I can't do it, Ethan. I can't let myself get attached to another child like that. It's too dangerous. It's too hard.”

“I thought so, too.” Ethan nodded thoughtfully. “For a long time, I couldn't imagine getting close to another kid. But then I started doing stuff on the pediatric floor at Mercy and I realized I
could
heal. Most kids get better, and the ones that don't? We can make their time here better. We can be a special oasis on a mountain, with great care and fun rooms and creemees on demand.”

“Can you imagine if we'd been able to give Avery that?” Josie felt tears threatening.

“Exactly. And that's why I bought the house. That's why I applied for the grants. That's why I named it after her. We did our best for her, and I have to believe we made her life better. I couldn't imagine going through the rest of my days steeling myself against that sort of connection. I had to take a risk that it could happen again … but that in the meantime, I could do a lot of good.”

He paused, running his fingertips down her jawline. “We were a good team, Jos. We could be again.”

“At Avery's House?”

He nodded slowly, kissing her nose softly. “Maybe not just there. Maybe … maybe you could stay? Maybe we could give this a second chance? Us?”

In his eyes, she could see the reflection of the Christmas lights, could see the flames from the fireplace behind her. Could see what she'd seen ten years ago, and never since. This man loved her. With his heart and soul, he still loved her, despite everything that had happened, and as she fairly melted into him, she knew she loved him, too. Always had, always would.

“So what do you think? Am I worth taking another chance on?” His words were playful, but his posture was anything but.

She slid her fingers around his neck to pull him closer. “It's possible. You're kind of growing on me.”

He gathered her into a tender hug, then laid her softly back and kissed her neck. “Have you ever made love under a Christmas tree?” He kissed her lips tenderly, slowly, as he traced the neckline of her sweater with his fingertips.

As his head dipped toward her neck, a loon call sounded from the vicinity of the coffee table where he'd set his phone earlier. Josie jumped, thinking it was her phone, but she'd left hers in the kitchen. The loon sounded again.

Wait. It was
his
ring tone, too? How had she never heard it since she'd been home?

He growled and reached for the phone, hitting the decline call button before he even saw who was calling. “Sorry about that.” He kissed her again, but ten seconds later, they heard the loon again.

“Are you kidding me?” He rolled away from Josie and pulled the phone off the table, checking the readout this time. “It's Ben. I'm sorry, Jos. I should probably take this. He wouldn't keep trying unless it was important.”

“Of course,” she said, but her voice was pathetically small as she sat up and crossed her arms across her chest. Her stomach actually hurt as she realized what was about to happen.

He answered the call, speaking in monosyllables in response to whatever Ben was saying, and then hung up, sighing. “I can't believe this, but I have to head over to the park.”

“Oh.”

And there it was. One minute ago she'd been clouded by dreamy kisses and hot promises, but this was the reality of Ethan, the reality of Camp Freaking Ho-Ho. It always won.

“I know. I'm sorry. The timing—” He brushed his hands through his hair as he reached for her, but she pulled back. “I wouldn't go if I didn't have to. I
really
don't want to, Jos.”

“Of course.”

Of course. I know how this works, Ethan. Camp Ho-Ho is wife and mistress, and I'll get the leftovers. Oh yes. I definitely know how this goes.

He stood up, reaching down to help her up as well, but she waved him off. “Go ahead. They need you at the park.”

“Aw, dammit, Jos. You look—ah hell—I feel terrible.”

“It is what it is, Ethan. This is how it works.”

He turned toward the door, then stopped and turned back. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.”

“I'll pick you up later for the dinner, okay?”

Josie took a deep breath. “I think I'll actually ride with Mom, if that's all right.”

“Okay? Sure?” He looked mystified. “I'll see you there, then?”

She worked up a smile. It wasn't his fault. He didn't know any different, right? This was his life. He just hadn't yet figured out that it was going to make having any
other
life virtually impossible. “Okay.”

With a quick kiss, he was out the door and off to the park, and she was left sitting on the living room floor, staring at a Christmas tree alone. Again.