Christmas At The Café. Rebecca Raisin

go on now, and get yourself ready. I’ll see you at the town hall.”

      I lean down to kiss CeeCee’s soft cheek; she smells like cinnamon and honey. “Thanks, Cee. I’ll meet you there later, then.”

      Damon’s shop is dark. He must have locked up while we were hooting and hollering.

      Walking home from town, I notice it’s gone quiet, sleepy. People have left for home to get ready for tonight; the schoolkids on holidays are probably toasting marshmallows by the fire. It’s a nice feeling, the town relaxing in on itself. There’s something incredibly sweet about small towns at this time of year. People look out for one another, and any tensions fall by the wayside. It’s a nice place, old Ashford, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

      Jogging the few blocks to my house, I feel light as a feather. My weary legs don’t ache any more. Funny how knowing I have a few days off energizes me.

      Inside, my red dress lies sprawled over my lounge like a crimson wave, and my boots sit patiently on the floor. I know I’ll be toasty warm inside the town hall; it’ll just be a matter of not turning into an icicle walking there. We used to suffer in an amphitheater, year after year, each hoping the carols would end so we could go home and warm up. Until last year it was decided the carols, and all the Christmas festivities, would be held in the town hall from now on. It’s a wonder no one thought of it sooner.

      I head straight to the tub for a good soak. Who knows, I might even consider putting some gloop on my face. Just a small amount, mind.

      Once the bath is run, I undress and survey my body in the mirror. I’m not thin; I have proper country-girl curves, but they seem to suit me, I think. I rub the soft swell of my belly, thinking about Joel, and our plans to start trying for babies just before he walked out. I wonder if that’s what frightened him off, all that responsibility. He was never one to be tied down, always scheming to make millions. Grand plans to get rich quick. I listened to him intently, and I supported him, because he loved me.

      I’ve never been attracted to the bright lights of a big city. All I crave is a happy, simple life. I have my job, and good friends, and family. Babies would be nice somewhere down the track. There’s nothing I don’t have right here in Ashford. Well, except love. And babies.

      I scold myself for all this soppy thinking, and plunge myself into the bath. Tonight the town will come together and we’ll sing and be content with what we have, and it’ll be enough.

      My red dress fits snugly, and my boots clack as I walk around fussing with the rest of the outfit. I’m not sure about the gloop. Scarlet lipstick smears my lips, and it just feels wrong, as if I’ve gone and dunked my mouth in lard. Mascara coats my lashes and it’s all I can do to see past them; I get the heebie-jeebies when I glance upward and it looks as if I’ve got spiders’ legs poking out of my eyes. And women do this every day? A knock at the door startles me. Damon. Groaning, I peep at myself once more. I’m worried I look like a clown with so much stuff on my face. And I’ve spritzed on too much perfume, I’m sure of it.

      I fan myself with my hands to dispel the scent as I walk to the door.

      “Well, look at you.” His gooey caramel-colored eyes hone in on my face.

      “Too much?” I ask. He ignores me and his gaze travels down my body, making me squirm.

      “You look beautiful. Truly beautiful.”

      “Thank you.”

      I shift my feet and try not to stare at the floor. It’s not a date; it’s simply an escort to a public event. It’s not a date. Damon’s grinning like a fool, and he’s dressed up for the occasion too. He’s still wearing super-snug jeans, which I don’t rightly oppose, but he’s swapped those awful checker shirts for a tight sweater that stretches over his stomach. I can see the outline of his muscles. He’s holding a thick black jacket over his shoulder. And a grey woolen scarf is wound expertly around his neck. He smells divine, like something sweet and sugary. Something edible. I retreat to grab my coat. An uncomfortable heat spreads through my body and if I didn’t know better I’d say it was desire.

      “Ready?” he asks.

      “Sure am.” I’m debating whether to hold his hand when his phone rings. I force a smile on my face as he motions to the cell and walks back down the driveway. Who in the hell keeps calling him? I’m feeling about as smart as tree bark even entertaining the thought of going out with Damon. It’s as if I have a gift of picking men who want to break my heart.

      Hold his hand? Goddamn it, girl. While I wait for him to finish, I head back to the bathroom and roughly wipe off the lipstick. Who was I trying to be anyhow? It’s just not my thing. My eyes prick with tears, and I wonder what’s got into me.

      “Lil. Lil?”

      “I’m coming,” I say with one last look at the girl in the mirror.

      Damon frowns when he sees me. “What happened?”

      “Nothing. Let’s go — we don’t want to be late.”

      He goes to speak then changes his mind.

      We walk to the town center, and Damon chatters away about inconsequential things. I nod, and say, “Mmm,” but my heart isn’t in it any more. I’m annoyed at myself for being upset. Joel, remember, you love Joel. But I begin to wonder if that’s true. Maybe I just like the idea of being married because it means someone loves me above all else.

      “Have I done something to upset you?”

      An awkward silence hangs between us, while I walk a pace ahead. “Why do you say that?”

      “You seem distant, and before you were positively glowing.”

      “I’m fine. Just tired. I might call it a night. I’ll introduce you round, then head on home.”

      He catches up and puts his hands in his pockets. “Aw, what? What’s upset you, Lil?”

      I pull my coat tight and cross my arms. “Nothing, it’s been a long day, that’s all.” There’s an edge to my voice and I can’t seem to disguise it. I hope I don’t start crying on account of this fool.

      He slaps his head. “Was it the phone call?” Stopping in front of me, he holds my face and forces me to look into his eyes. Lowering his voice to a husky whisper, he says, “Was it?”

      “The call? Don’t you mean calls? You sure are popular on that damn cell. Don’t you know that’s a lot of radiation going in your ear, right into that brain of yours?”

      “Is that what’s bothering you, all the calls?” He looks truly concerned, but that doesn’t wash with me. Joel’s phone was ringing off the hook near on a month before he walked out. I know what this is.

      “It’s nothing to do with me. Your phone is your business.”

      “Lil, I’m not going to lie. I like you. I like you a lot. But there’s things you don’t know about me. And I was gonna tell you…”

      “What? That you’ve got a girl back in New Orleans that you’re stringing along?”

      He has the audacity to laugh. I glare up at him.

      “No! There is no girl…well, there is a girl…”

      Storming forward, I push past Damon, and head towards the town square.

      “Wait! Would you wait?” he says, pulling me back by my elbow. “Let me explain.”

      Feeling utterly stupid, I brush tears away with my sleeve. “You don’t owe me any explanation.”

      He groans, looks up at the sky. “You’re making this hard.”

      I open my mouth to respond and he leans forward and cups my face with those big hands of his. “God, you’re beautiful.”

      Before I know it, he’s planted his lips on mine and I’m truly lost. Warmth