Читать книгу A Christmas to Remember - Rebecca Moesta - Страница 9

Chapter 5

Was there anything more uncomfortable than a first date? John despised them.

Aiming for somewhere between casual and dressy, he’d worn a black dress shirt with the collar unbuttoned and black jeans. He’d chosen a nice restaurant in a reasonable price range, decorated in what the owner called “Grandma’s house shabby chic.” Julie would’ve laughed at that description since she’d claimed that everything that started out new in their house eventually ended up “shabby chic”—thanks to the kids.

White fairy lights lined the windows of the restaurant inside. Soft jazz renditions of Christmas music played on the sound system.

John looked across the table at his date, Brooke Hanson, the first woman he’d been out with since Julie died. Brooke had been his classmate in high school. They’d both been popular, but he’d been studious—a sort of jock-nerd—while she’d hung out with cliques of fashion-conscious party goers. Their paths had only crossed at football games. Now, though, she was one of the few single women in town his age, so he’d finally relented and let his friends Stan and Holly Barbour set them up. Stan and Holly were such romantics that they wanted everyone to be happy and in love. But John already regretted agreeing to this date. It just didn’t feel right.

“Well, this is nice,” Brooke said.

“It is. It’s nice,” he said, hoping she couldn’t tell how uncomfortable he felt. He wondered if Brooke felt that way, too. He was certainly struggling to make small talk. Had it always been this hard?

Brooke took a sip of her wine. “I just can’t believe we’ve never been on a date before.”

Fumbling for a reply, John took a gulp from his wine glass, too. “Hm.”

“Because, you know,” Brooke went on, with a nervous-sounding laugh, “I had a crush on you in high school.”

She had? John felt a strange mixture of surprise and embarrassment. “Uh, no, I definitely didn’t know.” High school seemed like a lifetime ago.

Brooke gave him a look of disbelief. “Oh, come on.”

“I-I didn’t,” John stammered, shaking his head. Although she had been pretty enough to catch his eye back then, they hadn’t seemed to have much in common, so he had never asked her out.

“But you were the quarterback, and I was the cheerleader. We should have been a couple.”

When she put it that way, it did seem obvious, John thought. “I guess so.”

“Then you got married,” Brooke went on, “and then she—”

John froze. It was jarring to hear her chatter blithely about his marriage when he still missed Julie so much. And now he couldn’t help but compare Julie’s generous, caring, and easy manner with Brooke’s thoughtlessness and forced conversation.

Brooke seemed to notice her mistake. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I brought that up.”

“It’s okay. It’s all right,” John said, trying to put her at ease. But he wasn’t sure that it was all right. The strain of making conversation was even greater now. Trying to cut the tension, he began, “So how’s—”

“So how was your burger?” Brooke asked at the same time.

“My burger is…it was good. It was fine,” he replied, still stumbling over small talk. “How’s your tofu?”

“Do you want some?” Brooke offered. “You should try it.”

Tofu did not sound appetizing at all. John had tried bean curd a few times and found it flavorless and either slimy or spongy, depending on how it was served. So tofu fell into his life-is-too-short category of foods. He held out a hand to forestall Brooke. “Oh no, I really don’t like tof—” he began.

She held out a forkful right in front of him. What could he do? He couldn’t refuse without looking like a jerk. With resignation, he accepted the bite and chewed.

“It’s good, right?” she said, waiting for his reaction.

Good was not a word he could honestly use to describe the tofu. He didn’t like it. At all. But he couldn’t very well say so without hurting her feelings. John searched for something to say that wouldn’t sound rude. “Mm-hm. It’s, uh…interesting consistency,” he said, still chewing. It was the best he could do on the spur of the moment.

Brooke’s expression fell. “It’s nice,” she said, but her smile did not return. She looked away, drew a deep breath, and sighed.

John signaled for the waitress to bring the check. He didn’t want to make Brooke feel bad, but he did hope to wrap up the date fairly quickly. She must be able to see by now that they weren’t well matched. Stan and Holly would be disappointed that John and Brooke hadn’t hit it off. It hadn’t been a total loss, though. The evening had told John what he needed to know: Brooke was not right for him.

When he finished paying the bill, John helped Brooke put on her winter coat. At the truck, he held the door for her as she got in. Most of the five-minute drive to her house was silent. Still, as a gentleman, he was determined to finish the date as pleasantly as possible. He helped her out of the truck, walked her to the door of her small bungalow, and thanked her for having a meal with him.

Getting out her key, Brooke gave him a flirtatious look. “Would you like to come in?”

He felt his face flush. She wasn’t making this easy on him. “Uh, no, thank you. I need to be getting home.”

“All right.” She blinked in disappointment and looked up at him through her lashes. “But…we can’t end the evening without a good-night kiss, can we?”

That was exactly what he had hoped to do.

She leaned toward him.

He gave Brooke a swift peck on the cheek and fled back to his truck.

John pulled his pickup into the driveway of his snow-covered house, a lovely home built of light-colored wood logs in a modern mountain-rustic style. He parked and went inside to his children’s rooms to tuck them in and kiss them good night. White Christmas lights were strung along the walls and across the room that Daisy and Kyle shared. John hadn’t done much holiday decorating again this year, but the kids loved the little clear lights, so he had let them choose where to put them up. He gave Daisy a kiss on the forehead. Kyle had fallen asleep on top of his quilt, so John lifted him up and tucked him under the covers.

When John got to Jamie’s room, she was still awake, reading a mystery book by the light of a headlamp that perched on her forehead just above her glasses. He wasn’t upset that she was still awake. It was a sweet reminder that she was her mother’s daughter. Julie had often read at bedtime, sometimes getting so wrapped up in a book that she didn’t realize how late it was.

“Guess who should be asleep and not reading at this hour?” he said in a teasing tone.

“Dad, I’m just trying to finish this chapter.” This was a familiar bedtime conversation. No matter where Jamie was in her current book, she always wanted to read just a little bit more. If he left it up to her, she would read for hours longer.

“You’re going to have to finish the chapter tomorrow. Really,” he said, taking the book from her and putting it down. “Yes, the suspense will keep you awake. Take your light off please.”

She pulled the headlamp from her head and fumbled to turn it off.

He took it gently from her. “I’ll figure it out. You get in bed.”

She removed her glasses and put them on the table by her bed.

“All right, young lady. Nighty-night,” he said, pulling up the quilt and tucking it in around her.

“Night-night,” she murmured.

“Sweet dreams, okay? Love you.”

John shut the door to the bedroom softly, jogged down the stairs, deposited Jamie’s headlamp on the dish-covered kitchen island, and began cleaning up.

He always thought of Julie when he was in the kitchen. She had loved cooking, and they had always enjoyed the quiet companionship of cleaning up together. Now there was just the quiet. If it weren’t for Julie’s parents, who lived close by, and his best friend Dan, who came over regularly, that loneliness might have overwhelmed him. Even though his own parents and grandparents had passed long ago, his life was full of friends and family and blessings.

As if on cue, Dan Daniels opened the back door and came in. Dan was in his late fifties, with fluffy gray hair and a beard that managed to look bushy even at a medium length. Biscuit, the Blakes’s border terrier mix rescue dog, met him at the door.

“Hey, Biscuit.”

“Dan!” John greeted him.

Dan took off his hat and parka, revealing a fisherman’s chunky-knit cardigan underneath, and hung them on the rack near the door. “John. What did you make for dinner?” He made his way over to the stove and groaned with dismay. “Aw, stroganoff again?”

“Bunny made it. It’s simple. The kids love it,” John explained, then teased his friend. “You don’t like it, I got some kibble you could help yourself to.”

Dan dismissed the mock threat. “I’ll take the strog.” He picked up a fork, ate a bite of stroganoff straight out of the pot, and chewed contemplatively.

When John finished cleaning the kitchen, they adjourned to the backgammon table in the next room. Dan carried the pot with him and continued eating while they played.

“Double sixes!” John said, putting down the dice cup. “Again.”

“For the love of Pete,” Dan groused good-naturedly around a mouthful of stroganoff. “So how’d things go with what’s-her-name?”

“Oh,” John said. “Well, she force-fed me tofu.”

“Ew,” Dan commiserated.

“Yeah, it wasn’t a good fit,” John replied. “I don’t really like being set up, anyway, to tell you the truth. I think these things should happen naturally and organically, come together easily, like two pieces of a puzzle.”

He and Julie had fit together from the start. He had been working in a training clinic one morning when a petite blonde girl walked in carrying an injured seventy-pound yellow Labrador retriever.

“Pixie’s been hit by a car,” she’d explained. Throughout the examination, Julie had refused to leave Pixie’s side, obviously terrified her pet would not recover.

John’s heart had contracted with pain for her. His instincts had always been to ease suffering, which was one reason he had gone into veterinary medicine. But he’d felt a particularly urgent need to help Julie.

To keep her mind off her fear, he’d struck up a conversation with her. During X-rays and blood analysis and various other tests, they’d talked for more than an hour. He’d learned she was an undergrad studying for a business degree and lived at home with her parents to save money. That had led to a discussion about family and animals and what an important part their pets played in their families.

Finally, John had been able to assure Julie that Pixie’s injuries were limited to torn ligaments and a broken leg, which he could repair surgically.

Julie had cried with relief and hugged John. He had already been drawn to her, and her love for her dog had made the attraction even stronger.

Pixie had come through the surgery with flying colors. Afterward, John had offered to come by and check on her for the first week, and Julie had gladly accepted. John and Julie had gradually gotten to know each other and had begun to date.

Because they’d been students, most of their dates were simple. They had studied together, ridden horses, hiked, and gone on picnics. After Pixie’s leg had improved, they’d taken her hiking with them. And they’d talked, always talked. Everything about being with her had felt so natural, so right.

John wondered if he’d ever love like that again.

Dan rattled the backgammon dice in the cup and rolled them, pulling John back to the present. Dan gave a satisfied grunt. “Double fives. I’ll take it.” He moved his checker and took another bite of stroganoff. “Your turn.”

John rolled the dice.