Lock and Key (35 page)

“Even before I was jumping the fence?”

“Okay.” He smiled. “Maybe the second.”

All around us, the neighborhood was quiet, the sky spread out wide and sprinkled with stars overhead. I could feel him right there in front of me, and I thought of what Jamie had said earlier:
It won’t be like this forever
. That was true, and also the reason I should have climbed out right then, as well as why I knew I would stay.

He was still watching me, both of us bobbing, and I could feel the water around me, pressing in, pulling back. Then, slowly, Nate was moving closer, leaning in, and despite all I’d told myself, and all I wanted to believe I was and wasn’t capable of, I stayed where I was as he kissed me. His lips were warm, his skin wet, and when he drew back, I felt myself shiver, unaccustomed to anyone being so close, and yet still not ready for him to pull away.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

I was about to shake my head, say it wasn’t that at all, but before I could, I felt his hand close over mine. “Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s warmer the deeper you go.” Then, to prove it, he went under, and I took a deep breath, the biggest I could, and let him pull me down with him.

I already knew Jamie liked holidays. There were the matching blue shirts, for one thing, not to mention the thankful lists. But even armed with this knowledge, I still was not fully prepared for how he approached Christmas.

“Just stand still, okay?” Cora said, making a face as she stuffed the pillow farther up under his jacket. “Stop wriggling around.”

“I can’t,” Jamie replied. “This long underwear is a lot itchier than I thought it would be.”

“I told you to just wear your boxer shorts.”

“Santa doesn’t wear boxers!” he said, his voice rising slightly as she yanked the wide black belt of his costume tight over the pillow, holding it in place. “If I’m going to do this, I want to be authentic about it.”

“I seriously doubt,” Cora said, pushing herself to her feet, “that the Santa police do an underwear check. Now where’s your beard?”

“On the bed,” he told her. Then he saw me. “Hey, Ruby! So what do you think? Pretty great, right?”

This wasn’t exactly the first word that had come to mind at seeing him in a full-on Santa outfit: red suit, black boots, and big white wig, which to me looked itchier than any underwear could ever be. But in the interest of family, I decided to play along.

“Yeah,” I agreed as Cora reached over his head, fastening his beard. “Are you going to a party or something?”

“No,” he said. Cora stepped back, hands on her hips, examining her work. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Right,” I said slowly. “So this is for . . .”

“Walking around the neighborhood!” he finished for me. I just looked at Cora, who simply shook her head. “My dad always dressed up like Santa on Christmas Eve,” he explained. “It was a family tradition.”

“Which we did not have a lot of,” Cora added. “And Jamie knows that, which is why he’s made it a personal mission to make up for it now.”

Jamie looked from her to me, then back at her again. Even in the full costume, wig and all, he still looked so boyish, like
Santa: The Early Days
. “I know, it’s a little over the top,” he said. “It’s just . . . we always made a big deal of Christmas at my house. I guess it’s kind of rubbed off on me.”

Even without the Santa outfit, this was an understatement. All month long, Jamie had thrown himself into getting ready for Christmas: stringing up an elaborate light show out front, putting Advent calendars in practically every room, dragging home the biggest tree he could find, which we then decorated with a mix of brand-new ornaments and homemade ones from Hunter holidays past. Between all this and working at the mall, I’d frankly been over the holidays weeks ago. But as with most things involving Jamie, I’d gone along anyway, allowing myself to be dragged to the neighborhood tree-lighting ceremony, watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special over and over again, even holding Roscoe down while Jamie outfitted him in an elaborate harness of jingle bells.

“Here,” he said now, reaching behind him to the bed to pick up a red elf’s hat. “For you.”

“Me? ”

“Yeah. So we’ll match, when we go out.”

I looked at Cora again, but this time she avoided my eyes, busily putting away her blusher, which she’d used to give Jamie his festive red cheeks. “Where,” I said slowly, “are we going?”

“To hand out gifts in the neighborhood,” he said, like this was obvious. “They’re all in the foyer, ready to go. Come on!”

He brushed past me, his own hat in hand, and bounded down the stairs, his boots thumping on the carpet. I narrowed my eyes at Cora until she finally turned to face me. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking like she meant it. “But I did it last year.”

And that was how I ended up out in Wildflower Ridge, at eight o’clock on Christmas Eve, with Jamie in his Santa suit, and Roscoe in his jingle bells, spreading good cheer. Or, looking at it another way, walking in the cold—which had returned with a vengeance—and interrupting people from their own family celebrations while scaring the occasional motorist.

After the first couple of houses, we worked out a system: I rang the bell, then let Jamie stay front and center, hanging back with Roscoe until the door was opened, and pitching in when needed to help hand out the gifts, which were mostly stuffed animals and boxes of mini candy canes. Aside from a few weird looks—and some people who were clearly home but chose to ignore us—people seemed happy to see us, especially the kids, and after about an hour and three blocks, our stuff was mostly gone.

“We’ve got enough for maybe two more stops,” Jamie said as we stood on the corner by Nate’s house, having paused for Roscoe, bells jingling, to relieve himself against a mailbox. “So which ones do you think? You want to take something to Nate?”

I looked over at the Cross house, dark except for a couple of lights in the back. “I don’t know,” I said. “He might not be your target audience. Maybe we should go a little younger.”

“I’ll do that,” he said, reaching into his almost-empty sack. “But you go ahead and bring him some candy canes. I’ll meet you back here. All right?”

“Okay,” I said, handing over Roscoe’s leash. He took it, then tossed his sack over his shoulder—the Santa police would have approved—and started across the street to a house with brightly lit snowflakes on either side of the front steps.

I slid the box of candy canes in my pocket, then headed up Nate’s walk, taking a deep breath of cool air. The truth was, I’d thought about getting him a Christmas gift. I had even picked out more than one before stopping myself, not sure even after that night in the pool that I was ready or able to make such a grand gesture. But in the days since, I’d also realized that with Nate, everything just came so easily, as easily as letting him take my hand and pull me beneath the surface. Maybe it was impossible for someone to share everything with you, but I was beginning to think what we had was enough. And anyway, it was Christmas, a time above all for hope, or so I’d been told. He’d given me so much, and now, here, I was finally ready to reciprocate. So I stepped up to the door and rang the bell.

The moment he opened the door, I knew something was wrong. It was just the look on his face—surprised, even alarmed—followed immediately by the way he eased the door a bit more shut, the same move I’d once mastered with the Jehovah’s and landlords. “Ruby,” he said, his voice low. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Right that moment, I heard his dad: loud, bellowing, barely muffled from behind a nearby wall. I swallowed, then said, “Jamie was just handing out stuff, for Christmas—”

“It’s not a good time,” he said as there was a bang, or a thud, discernible. “I’ll call you a little later, okay?”

“Are you all right?” I asked him.

“I’m fine.”

“Nate—”

“I am. But I’ve got to go,” he said, easing the door closed a bit more. I could barely see him now. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. ”

I didn’t get a chance to answer this, as the door was already shutting with an audible click. I just stood there, my mouth dry, wondering what I should do.
I’m fine,
he’d said. I reached out, putting my hand on the knob and turning it. Here I was, finally ready to let him in, and it was me locked out.

“Hey!” Jamie called from behind me. I turned. He and Roscoe were across the street, coming closer. “Are they there? ”

Say something,
I thought, but even as I tried to form the words, any words, I remembered that day in the garage, how he’d asked me to keep this quiet.
You understand
. Did I want to be the Honeycutts, stepping in and ruining everything, even if I thought it was for the best? Jamie was coming up the walk, Roscoe pulling ahead. I had to decide, now.

“They’re not home,” I said, stepping off the porch. The box of candy canes was still in my pocket, and I slid my fingers in, cupping them around it. It felt almost like a hand, resting in mine. “Let’s just go.”

Chapter Thirteen

I was up until way late, but not waiting for Santa. Instead, I lay on my bed, watching the lights from Nate’s pool dance across the trees, the same way I had that first night. More than once, I thought about sneaking over again to find him and see if he was okay. But then I’d remember him shutting the door in my face, the click of the latch catching, and stay where I was.

The next morning, I got a new backpack, some CDs, a few books, and a laptop. Cora got her period.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she sputtered when, shortly after we’d opened gifts, I found her sitting on her bed, crying. “Really.”

“Honey.” Jamie came over, sitting beside her and sliding his arm over her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“I know.” Her voice was still choked as she reached up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s just, I really had a feeling it had happened this month. Which I know is so stupid . . .”

“You’re not stupid,” Jamie said softly, smoothing a hand over her head.

“. . . but I just started thinking how great it would be to find out today and be able to tell you guys, and how it would be the best gift ever—” She drew in a long, shaky breath, her eyes welling up again. “But it didn’t happen. I’m not pregnant. Again.”

“Cora.”

“I know,” she said, waving her hand. “It’s Christmas, we have a wonderful life, roof over our head, things so many people want. But I want this. And no matter what I do, I can’t get it. It just . . .” She trailed off, wiping her eyes again. This time, Jamie didn’t say anything.

“Sucks,” I finished for her.

“Yeah,” she said, looking up at me. “It
sucks
.”

I felt so helpless, the way I always did when I saw Cora upset about the baby issue. It was the one thing that could take her from zero to emotional in less than five minutes, the single tender spot in her substantial personal armor. The previous month she’d finally agreed to a little pharmaceutical help, via an ovulation drug, which made her hot and emotional, liable to be sweating or weeping or both at any given moment. Not a good mix, especially during the holidays. And now, it was all for nothing. It did suck.

“We’ll just try again,” Jamie was saying now. “It was just the first month. Maybe the second time will be the charm.”

Cora nodded, but I could see she was hardly convinced as she reached up, running her finger over the gift I’d given her that morning: one of Harriet’s key necklaces, a silver one lined with red stones. I’d been strangely nervous as she opened the box, worried she wouldn’t like it, but the minute she slid it out into her hand, her eyes widening, I knew I’d scored. “It’s beautiful,” she said, looking up at me. “It’s like yours!”

“Kind of,” I said. “But not completely.”

“I love it,” she told me, reaching up immediately to put it on. She brushed her hair over her shoulders. “What do you think? Does it look good?”

It had, and did now, as she rested her head on Jamie’s shoulder, curling into him. She still had one hand around the key. The necklace looked different on her than on me, but you could see some similarities. You just had to know where to look.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Roscoe, who’d been snoozing at the foot of the bed, perked up his ears and let out a yap. “Was that the door?” Jamie asked.

“It was,” Cora said as Roscoe hopped down, bolting from the room. A moment later, we heard him barking from the foyer as the bell sounded again. “Who would show up on Christmas? ”

“I’ll find out,” I said, although as I quickly got up, heading for the stairs, I was hoping I already knew. The bell rang again when I was halfway down, then once more as I approached the door. When I got to the door and looked through the peephole, though, Nate wasn’t there. Nobody was. Then it chimed again—so weird—so I just opened it.

It was Gervais. Too short for the peephole, he was standing on the front step, in his glasses, peacoat, and scarf, with what looked like a brand-new scooter parked on the walk behind him. “Hi,” he said.

I just looked at him. “Hey,” I said slowly. “What are you—? ”

“I have a proposition for you,” he said, all business. “Can I come in?”

“Um,” I said. Behind me, Roscoe had stopped barking but was still trying to nudge past me. “We’re kind of busy, actually—”

“I know.” He reached up, adjusting his glasses. “This will only take a minute.”

I still didn’t really want to let him in. But in the spirit of the holiday, I stepped aside. “Shouldn’t you be with your family?” I asked as he shut the door behind him.

“We finished Christmas hours ago,” he told me. “My dad already took down the tree.”

“Oh.” Now we were just standing there, together, in the foyer. “Well,” I said, “we’re still kind of doing things, so—”

“Do you think you’ll be prepared for your next big calculus exam?”

I just looked at him. “What?”

“Your next exam. It’s in March and counts for half your grade, right?”