From the Heart (13 page)

C
hristmas Eve. Magic. Kasey was ready for magic. She had palm trees rather than snow, but she'd lived through Christmases without snow before. This time she had something of more value. She would have the day with the man she loved and with a child who was burning with excitement. That was magic enough for her.

She was aware that her job was finished, or at least nearly so. Jordan spent more and more time working without her. What she filled in now could be done by a letter or a simple phone call. She was procrastinating, and she knew, whether Jordan realized it or not, that so was he. The break had to come—but not on Christmas. Kasey was taking that for herself. When the holidays were over, she'd make her plans, pack, then tell him. In that order. It would be better if everything was set before the words were said.

With a firm plan in mind, Kasey felt better. She told herself she was entitled to a week. The first of the year, she would take the step away from him, away from Alison, and begin again. She was strong; she'd lived through losses before. But now it was Christmas, and she had a family, if only for another week.

She sat on the rug in the drawing room and watched Alison poke at the stacks of presents under the tree. She chattered like a magpie. What might this be? What that
had
to be. How many hours were left?

“Not quite one less than the last time you asked,” Jordan told her and pulled her up on his lap. “Why don't we open everything now?”

“Oh, no, Uncle Jordan, we couldn't!” She glanced at Kasey, waiting to be overruled.

“No, we couldn't. Santa would be very annoyed.”

Alison laughed and snuggled into the curve of Jordan's arm. “Kasey, you know there isn't really a Santa Claus.”

“I know nothing of the sort. You, Miss Taylor, are a cynic.”

“I am?” Alison digested the word. Reaching over, she picked up a small glass ball that held a miniature forest scene. Turning it upside down, she let the snow fall. “I haven't seen this before.”

“No.” Jordan had wondered when she would notice it. “I found it in the attic this morning. It was your father's when we were boys.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really. I thought you might like to have it.”

“To keep?” She curled her fingers around the glass and looked up at him.

“To keep.”

Alison looked back at the glass and watched the snow drift. “He liked the snow,” she mused. “When we lived in Chicago, we had snow fights. He'd let me win.” She leaned back against Jordan's chest and tilted the ball again.

Kasey watched them and kept silent. He'd gone searching for that to give Alison something of her father for Christmas. If she hadn't loved him before, she would have fallen in love with him at that moment. He's a good man, she thought. Above everything else he is, he's a good man.

She rose, wanting to give them time alone.

“Kasey?” Jordan's eyes lifted to hers, and she stopped.

“I think I still have a few things to wrap,” she told him. He smiled, seeing through her.

“Didn't someone mention something about stringing popcorn?”

“Popcorn?” Alison's eyes lit up. “For the tree?”

“Kasey told me a tree wasn't suitably dressed unless it wore popcorn,” Jordan stated. “What do you think?”

“May we do it now?”

“I'm all for it, but Kasey seems to have something else to do.” Jordan kept his eyes on her, still smiling.

“I'm flexible,” Kasey returned, then looked at Alison. “We'll need several miles of string and three needles. Can you handle it?”

“Are we going to eat some, too?”

“Absolutely.”

Alison scrambled up and, taking the glass ball with her, shot out of the room.

“Sometimes you're transparent, Kasey.” Jordan rose and went to her. “You were going to cry and didn't want to do it in front of Alison. Or in front of me.”

“That was a marvelous thing you did.”

“Alison was with me last Christmas, and it never occurred to me.” He lifted Kasey's chin a bit higher and kissed her.

“Don't make me cry, Jordan. It's Christmas Eve.”

“I've got them!” Alison came to the doorway at a full run. She held up a packet of needles and a thick ball of string.

“Half the battle.” Kasey crossed to her, then turned back to Jordan. “Coming?”

“I wouldn't miss it.”

As they approached the kitchen door, Jordan said, “You know, I'm not sure how Francois is going to take this. His kitchen's sacred.”

“Piece of cake,” Kasey murmured as they entered.

Francois turned and bowed. He didn't wear the white hat Kasey had hoped for all those weeks ago, but he did have the moustache.
“Monsieur.”
He bowed at Jordan. “May I assist you?”

“Francois.” Jordan took a moment. He'd witnessed more than one tantrum over the years. “We have a need to make something for the Christmas tree.”

“Oui, monsieur?”

“We're going to string popcorn.”

“Popcorn? You want to make this popcorn in my kitchen?” Before Jordan could answer, Francois was off on a stream of indignant French.

“Francois?”

He turned and gave a stiff bow.
“Mademoiselle?”

Kasey smiled at him.
“Vôtre cuisine est magnifique,”
she
began, then continued in flawless French. She praised his food, his stove, his counters, sampled the stock pot he had simmering while he joined the discussion with passion. She was enthusiastic about the perfection of his cookware and impressed with his cutlery.

When she had finished, he kissed her hand cordially, bowed to Jordan again and strolled from the room.

“Well.” Jordan glanced at the closed door, then back at Kasey. He watched as she took down a pan and placed it on the stove. “Where did you learn to speak French like that?”

“My roommate at college was a language major. Where's the popcorn?”

He walked to her, ignoring the question. “What did you say to him? I always thought my French was good, but the two of you went well beyond me.”

“Just this and that.” Kasey smiled. “I did tell him you wanted him and the rest of the kitchen staff to have the night off. You do have popcorn, don't you?”

Jordan laughed and reached into a bottom cabinet. “I smuggled it in at great personal risk.”

“You're a tough guy, Taylor.” She took the can from him. “I'll need some oil.” He gestured for Alison to get it, then leaned close and whispered a quick French phrase in Kasey's ear. Her mouth turned up. “I'm shocked,” she murmured. “Interested, but shocked. I don't think I'll ask you where you learned that.”

In moments the kitchen was noisy with the popping of the corn. Alison sat at the butcher block table, ankles crossed, carefully cutting lengths of string. Jordan settled across from her and watched. When was the last time he had sat listening to that sound? he wondered. In college? No, at his brother's house, five, perhaps six, years ago. Perhaps Kasey had been right. He had insulated himself.

“Another masterpiece,” Kasey declared, turning the popcorn into a bowl. “No duds.”

He dipped his hand into the bowl. “Where's the butter?” he demanded. Alison's hand brushed his as she dug in.

“Grab a needle,” Kasey instructed each of them.

They worked in anything but silence. Alison chattered continually between mouthfuls. Her string of popcorn grew
longer by the minute. It seemed to Kasey that they had sat like this before on other Christmas Eves, that they would sit like this again. But she knew better and shivered.

“Cold?” Jordan asked her.

“No.” She tried to shake off the feeling. “A goat ran over my grave.”

“That's a goose,” he said and smiled at her.

“Goose, goat.” She shrugged. She stuffed a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “You're not doing so well there, Jordan,” she observed.

“I need incentive.”

“Mine's going to be the longest,” Alison declared. “It's going to be a hundred miles long.”

“Don't count your chickens before they cross the road,” Kasey advised. “How do you do that, Jordan?” she asked, studying him. “Did it come naturally, or did you practice?”

Jordan shook his head in amused confusion.

“I mean lift one eyebrow,” Kasey explained. “It's marvelous. I'd love to be able to do it, but both of mine work at the same time. Let's have some hot chocolate.” She sprang up and began to rummage through cupboards. Jordan abandoned his string and watched her.

“Kasey, come here a minute.”

“Jordan, preparing hot chocolate requires concentration and care.” She measured in the milk. Crossing the room, he took her arm and pulled her under the doorway. He pointed above their heads with one finger. Kasey smiled at the mistletoe. “Is it real?” she asked.

“It's real,” he assured her.

“Well, in that case . . .” She touched her mouth lightly to his.

“That's not how they kiss in the movies,” Alison commented and plucked another piece of popcorn.

“Absolutely right,” Jordan agreed before Kasey could comment. He drew her back into his arms and covered her mouth with his. The kiss lengthened, and the sweetness of it made Kasey's throat ache. She held him close. She would remember that kiss before all the others, she knew.

“That was much better,” Alison stated when Kasey drew away. “My string's finished.”

Later they sat in the drawing room again. Alison was curled next to Jordan on the sofa with Kasey's guitar in her lap. Kasey watched the colors from the lights on the tree play across her face as she drifted into sleep.

“She's had a long day,” Kasey murmured.

“I'm looking forward to seeing her face when she gets her presents tomorrow.” He slipped the guitar from Alison's limp arms and handed it to Kasey. “Your little gift is safely tucked away?”

“Charles is guarding my little gift in the garage. I'm not sure he's going to part with it easily.” She rose. “I'll take Alison up and put her to bed.”

“I'll do it.” Jordan shifted his niece into his arms and stood. “Why don't you put some music on?”

When he had gone, Kasey went to the cabinet that held the stereo. Chopin, she decided, shifting through the albums. It was a night for romance.

The house was quiet. The servants were settled in their wing. Beatrice was at a party. It might have been only the three of them in the house. Kasey sighed as she slipped the record onto the turntable. For tonight she could pretend it was true. Wandering to the window, she parted the curtains and looked out. The moon was high and full, the night clear. She found Pegasus again and mused over it. When she heard the doors shut quietly, she turned. Kasey watched Jordan lock them.

“Did you settle her in all right?” Her heart began to skip rapidly. Silly, she thought. I act as though it's the first time I've been with him.

“She's fine. She never even woke up. You sleep like that.” He crossed the room and set the bottle of wine he carried on the bar. “Deep, like a child.” He opened the wine, then moved to the fireplace. Kneeling, he set gas flames burning over the logs. “Now you can pretend it's snowing.” He smiled up at her.

“You do see through me, don't you?”

“At times.” When he had poured two glasses, he moved back in front of the fire and sat. He held up a hand for her. Kasey took it and settled next to him. “How do you feel?” he asked when she was leaning against him.

“Like I'm snowed in,” she murmured, accepting the wine he offered. “Snuggled in a log cabin in the Adirondacks, away from the world and its problems.”

“Is there room in the log cabin for me?”

She tilted her head to smile at him. “Anytime.”

“We'd have wood,” he said quietly and he took the glass from her hand. “And wine.” He bent to kiss the corner of her mouth. “And each other.” Gently he lowered her to the floor. “We wouldn't need anything else.”

“No.” Kasey's lids lowered as she drew him closer. “Nothing else.”

She lost herself in the feel of him, in the taste of him. Her mind and body were in complete harmony, and both belonged to him. From somewhere deep in the center of the house, the clock struck midnight, and it was Christmas.

How long they loved each other that night Kasey would never know. Neither of them had wanted to unlock the door and open themselves to the rest of the world. Once, when they dozed together, Jordan woke to hear the front door open and close behind his mother. Then the house was silent again. Theirs. He turned to Kasey and roused her slowly until she was quivering for him again and he for her. There was firelight and the colors from the tree and the scent of pine. The wine grew warm.

Kasey slept again and woke groggily when Jordan lifted her.

“I'll take you up,” he murmured.

“I don't want to leave you.” She buried her face in his neck. “The nights are too short. Hours and hours too short.”

Then she was asleep again, as deeply as Alison had been when he had carried her up the stairs.

 

Morning came all too soon. Only her own determination and Alison's excitement kept Kasey from crawling back under the covers. The neat, formal drawing room was soon strewn with torn paper, boxes and discarded ribbons. A cocker spaniel puppy, Kasey's gift to Alison, raced around the tree while Alison sat, awestruck, with a new guitar, a gift from her uncle, on her lap.

“Shouldn't you wake your mother, Jordan?” Kasey murmured, pushing some crumpled paper aside.

“At six o'clock in the morning?” He laughed and shook his head. “Mother doesn't rise before ten, Christmas or no Christmas. We'll have a very civilized brunch later.”

Kasey wrinkled her nose and grabbed for a box. “It's about time I had one,” she announced, knowing the gift was from Alison. “I've heard a lot of whispering about this one,” she said, unwinding the ribbon slowly. “Seen a lot of telling looks.” Alison caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked at Jordan. “Like that one,” Kasey stated and ripped the paper with a flourish. Opening the box, she found a long, pale green neck scarf in soft wool.