First Kiss at Christmas by Lee Tobin McClain

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TONY’SKISSWASso gentle, so much a natural outcome of the night’s events, that Kayla relaxed into it.

His lips were warm on hers. That was what she noticed the most, the warmth. In his lips, and in the circle of his arms. A gentle brush and then a light pressure. She could smell his after-shave, could feel his hand touching her hair, lingering there. She reached up to touch his dark, springy curls, so much coarser than her own flyaway strands.

And then she realized: My goal! My first kiss! It was happening before the year ended. She smiled against his lips and leaned her cheek against his chest, just for a moment. Her ridiculous goal, achieved.

“Let’s walk.” He tugged her to his side, and they strolled slowly toward the crowd.

Kayla’s heart raced. Kissing Tony wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d imagined something pushy and intrusive, probably because of the boy who’d attempted to kiss her in school.

But it had been nothing like that. More of an invitation than a demand.

And she wanted to follow up on that invitation. “Let’s stop here for a minute,” she said before they got close to the edge of the crowd. She turned away from the water, leaned back against the railing, and lifted a wondering hand to his face.

He caught her hand in his and pressed his lips to it, his eyes on her. “Sorry my beard is rough. I wasn’t expecting any kissing.”

“Me, either. And in fact, I shouldn’t be doing that.”

His forehead wrinkled and distress rose to his eyes, and she realized immediately what he was thinking: that she reviled him for his story, that he was a bad person, and that was why she shouldn’t be kissing him. She’d gotten to know him so much better, she realized. She was starting to read his mind.

And she didn’t want him to get the wrong impression. “Aren’t you going to ask why I shouldn’t be kissing you?” she asked.

“I can guess.” He still looked troubled.

“I doubt that.” She was still holding his hand, and she pulled it to her lips and kissed it, smiling at him. “Because technically, I’m your boss,” she said. “Inappropriate to be fraternizing with a coworker.”

“Ooohhh. I see.” He smiled and then tugged her against his chest and kissed the top of her head. “I like fraternizing with you,” he said, his breath warm against her ear.

She lifted her face to him. “Me, too,” she said.

He nudged and crowded her until she felt the railing against her back, and put an arm on either side of her, trapping her.

For just a minute she felt that rush of panic that stemmed back to her time in middle school. But it was as if Tony sensed her distress, because he lifted one hand to touch her chin, then tangle in her hair.

He wasn’t trapping her, he was just being close. And that closeness felt wonderful. She lifted up and pressed her lips to his.

His response was immediate, and his mouth moved on hers, and it was suddenly not just warm, but hot. His lips were firm and it was very, very clear that he knew what he was doing. And Kayla realized that the first kiss had just been a practice round. This, this kiss on the bay with the wind picking up around them and the moon above, now this was what everyone raved about.

She lost track of time and didn’t want to find it again. She wanted to stay here, in his embrace, forever. Her pulse quickened and her face heated and it got a little bit hard to breathe.

Finally, he lifted his lips and looked down at her with a crooked smile. “You’re something else.”

She felt like her mouth was swollen. Her heart raced. “Wow,” she said, looking into his dark eyes. “Just wow. I didn’t know it would be so...intense.”

He laughed a little. “Intense for me, too.”

“It was my first,” she confided, feeling starstruck.

His forehead wrinkled. “Your first?”

“My first kiss,” she said. “I’m glad it was with you.” She felt so close to him, so emotional. That was what was really intense. Oh, she’d felt the kiss from head to toe, and she understood that part of it was physical attraction, but that wasn’t all. She’d felt cradled in his arms, cherished.

His eyes widened. “Wow. Your first kiss?” He took a step back, and the breeze chilled the front of her, where he’d been keeping her warm.

His obvious surprise made her self-conscious. “Could you tell?” she asked shyly. Maybe she’d done a bad job of kissing. How would she even know?

“No, I couldn’t tell, although...” He looked at her again, shaking his head. “It does make sense of some things. How come this was your first kiss?”

Now she felt like a freak. “There were some...reasons,” she said.

“Did I push you into it?” His eyebrows drew together.

“No! In fact, I wanted—” She stopped herself. It wouldn’t exactly be flattering to him to learn that he was part of a goal she’d set before she’d even met him. “I wanted to kiss you,” she said.

The crowd down the boardwalk was getting noisier, and a couple of the boats were setting off fireworks, making small, bright flashes in the sky. The bay lapped against the pilings, and the rhythmic sound settled her.

Kayla took deep breaths of the cool night air. She needed to calm down. Needed to think about what had happened.

Needed to treasure and relive how wonderful it had been. She smiled up at him.

He put an arm loosely around her shoulders and turned them both toward the crowd. “Come on, we should join the others and check on Jax.” He urged her forward. “I’m honored to be your first kiss.”

There was something about the way he was reacting. “Honored” wasn’t what she’d been looking for. And besides, he didn’t sound honored. He sounded bemused, maybe upset.

Her starry-eyed feeling started to evaporate, replaced by familiar insecurity.

Someone like Norleen would have known how to kiss. And not just how to kiss, but how to act afterward.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to act all happy and excited. Maybe you were supposed to play it cool afterward.

Maybe kissing Tony had been a mistake.

SYLVIECOULDN’TEATmuch at the church lunch. She’d figured as much—her stomach had been acting up lately—so she’d only taken tiny portions of a few side dishes.

The best solution for a down mood was work. So, as soon as she’d finished as much as she could, she took her plate to the kitchen. She found a coffeepot and carried it around, offering refills. Then she headed into the kitchen and started scrubbing pots and pans and baking sheets.

Big Bobby was pressuring her to come home and visit. He wanted to know what Jax had seen, what he remembered, what he knew.

Bobby wasn’t mad. He just wanted her to come home for a couple of days so they could see each other and she could tell him what she’d learned.

His voice when they’d spoken was quiet, but there was an edge to it. He wasn’t happy with her. If she wanted to please him, she should probably corner little Jax alone and interrogate him.

It said something about their relationship that she didn’t care as much as usual about making Big Bobby happy. And she really, really didn’t want to go back to Filmore, even for a short visit.

Nonetheless, she owed Big Bobby for taking her in all those years ago. For giving her a home.

Maybe making the five-hour drive would help her figure out what she wanted.

The kitchen got crowded as people finished their meals and helped to clean up. Sylvie didn’t talk much—she just kept scrubbing pots—but it was comforting to hear the laughter and friendly jokes behind her.

Pleasant Shores was home to a lot of good people. You could trust them. And now that she was among them, she realized she wanted to spend more time around people like this.

Pastor Steve came to stand beside her, leaning back against the counter. “You seem preoccupied.”

She gave him a quick smile and kept scrubbing. “I am.” Should she tell him any more? Or keep her troubles to herself, as she’d done all her life?

“Want to talk about it?” His smile was easy, his eyes kind.

“Just... I have to make a trip back home tomorrow. And I’m dreading it.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry about that. Are you staying back home for Christmas, or celebrating here?”

She thought of what Christmas would be like in Filmore. Normally, she decorated the house. Bobby usually spent time with his ex-wife and kids on the day, so it was lonely for her. When he did come home, he often brought friends. Lots of drinking involved.

“What’s it like here at Christmas?” she asked.

He picked up a clean dish towel and started drying the big stack of pans she’d washed. “It’s real pretty. Friendly, too. Of course I love the Christmas Eve service the best—” he gave her a wry grin “—since I’m in charge of it. But there’s also a parade in the park on Christmas afternoon that’s fun to watch. All the kids bring their favorite new toy, and there’s hot chocolate and cookies.”

“That’s sweet.” She couldn’t imagine such a thing happening in Filmore.

“It’s nice for folks who don’t have kids in the family, or people who are alone.” He hesitated. “It’s not easy being single on Christmas, but if you’re in town, I guarantee you’ll get invitations to dinner.”

She’d figured she would. Or maybe she’d see if Primrose wanted to get together and cook a big Christmas meal. Maybe there were others they could feed. “It’s a friendly town.”

“Hey, Sylvie, Pastor Steve, if you don’t need anything, we’re out of here.” The couple who’d been loading the big industrial dishwasher and wiping counters were shrugging into their coats. Only a few people remained in the dining area, and they seemed to be gathering their things to leave.

“We’ve got it covered,” Sylvie said. “Just a few more trays to wash.” She looked over at the pastor. “I’m sure you’re busy. You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m actually not too busy. I’ll help you finish up.” He paused. “Unless you want to be alone?” His voice sounded strangely nervous.

It made her want to be nice to him. “Lord, no. I’m glad of the company. I go crazy in that motel room sometimes.”

“We’re a pair, then. I go crazy in the parsonage sometimes.” He carried a stack of pots to a cupboard. Then he came back and stood a few feet away, leaning against the counter again. “I’m curious about you,” he said. “I sense there are some hidden depths.”

Back home, that remark would have made a lot of people laugh. Back home, she was just Big Bobby’s girlfriend. “I’m just an ordinary girl.” She hesitated, then added, “Who had a tough childhood and ended up in a relationship I don’t want to be in.” As soon as the words came out, she realized they were true. That was why she so dreaded going home tomorrow. She didn’t know how to tell Big Bobby; didn’t know if she could.

“Is it abusive?” Steve asked quietly.

“No, but...” She trailed off, took the drain plug out of the sink, and watched the soapy water swirl and disappear.

“Hard to leave?”

She nodded, relieved that he understood. “There are years of history. And some other stuff.” She wanted to watch over Jax for a little longer, make sure he still seemed happy rather than troubled by memories. “I just have to go back and straighten a couple of things out. I hope to be back here for Christmas.” She dried her hands.

“I hope so, too. But just in case you’re not...come with me.” He gave her hand a little tug, then headed out of the kitchen.

She followed him through the darkened halls of the church, wondering what he was leading up to. Was it a ploy to get her alone? Did pastors do that?

Would she mind?

They walked through an office containing an empty receptionist desk, a copy machine, and stacks of file folders and printer paper. Everything was a little messy. You could tell it was an active church.

At the back of it, a door was marked Pastor’s Office.

“Wait here,” he said, and disappeared into his office. A moment later, he came back out with a book. “Early Christmas gift,” he said.

“What is it?” She took the book, flipped through it. Was it a Bible?

“It’s a collection of Bible verses under headings, depending on what you’re going through.” He smiled at her encouragingly. “And tuck this in there. It’s a card with my cell phone number. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” It was a sweet gesture, but there was a part of her that wished he wasn’t acting like a pastor.

“You can build a new life, you know,” he said.

A burst of anger surprised her. “People like you, in places like this, think it’s easy to start over. But it’s not.”

“I never said it was easy, Sylvie,” he said quietly. “Just that you could do it.”

“Honestly? I don’t know if I can.” She spun on her heel so she wouldn’t see his expression, wouldn’t know if it was hurt or anger or just professional detachment.

Like it or not, she was a Filmore girl. And she had to go there tomorrow.

TONYSATINTHE waiting room of the therapist’s office, Jax on his lap, feeling like a terrible person.

He’d kissed Kayla, a woman so innocent she’d never been kissed before. Tony, on the other hand, was older and maybe too experienced. He shouldn’t have touched her.

And maybe he wasn’t as experienced as he thought. Kissing Kayla had felt different—not physically, but in his heart. The way she’d looked at him had made him feel like a hero. That, he’d never experienced with any woman before.

Sadly, it wasn’t something he could do again. Tony knew he wasn’t a good bet for a relationship; look what he’d done to his sister.

Although... Kayla’s words came back to him. She thought his sister’s death wasn’t his fault, thought he was being like a child for blaming himself.

Was he? But Tony couldn’t get around the fact that if he’d stifled his criticism, Stella might be here today. Jax might have a mother.

To add to his guilt, Jax had regressed in the past twenty-four hours. He hadn’t slept well, hadn’t eaten well, had lapsed into some kicking-and-crying tantrums the way he’d so often done back in Filmore, after realizing his mother wasn’t going to come home.

The regression made Tony realize that Jax had been doing much better, with a change of scene and new friends and these weekly therapy sessions.

Only now, he’d had a setback. Tony didn’t know why.

Dr. Liz opened the door to her inner office. “Come on back, DeNunzio men. We’re going to do some art today!”

Jax didn’t look at her, and he didn’t make a move to stand up. He just huddled close to Tony.

“Time to go play with Dr. Liz,” Tony said. When Jax didn’t move, Tony stood with Jax clinging monkey-like to his chest. “You’re getting heavy, pal. Anytime you want to walk, you let me know.”

Jax didn’t respond, but once inside the office, he allowed Tony to put him down in a chair at the wooden table, one with a thick cushion that raised a kid to table height. “You want me to sit here, too?” he asked the therapist.

“Oh, yes. We’re all going to draw.” She pulled up a chair for herself and passed crayons and paper to Jax and Tony.

He sat down beside Jax. “I’m not too good at art.”

“Just start with something simple. Maybe your house. Or your family.”

Jax immediately started drawing. Tony did, too.

“So how’s your week gone?” she asked.

“Jax hasn’t been feeling too well,” he said. “He’s waking up in the night, and he has an upset stomach. I don’t know what’s set him back.”

“It’s nothing you did, Tony,” she said. “It’s normal given what he’s been through. Grief is like a spiral for everyone, but especially for children. They touch on something important, then go off and think about other things, then come back to it. That can happen dozens, even hundreds of times.”

“Wow.” Tony focused on coloring in the house he’d drawn, a weak attempt at portraying Victory Cottage. “Is there anything we can do to make it better?”

“This. And talking. And time.”

They all drew for a few minutes. Tony felt ridiculous playing with crayons, but he had to admit it was weirdly soothing.

He drew in a couple of figures, himself and Jax in the front yard. That looked lonely, so he added his brother and sister to the picture.

Jax looked over at his drawing. “You forgot Mommy,” he said.

The words stabbed Tony. “Where should I put her?” He was wondering what Jax pictured: Stella in the sky, or in the ground, or just the same as living people.

“Maybe Jax would like to draw her in,” Dr. Liz suggested.

Tony pushed the paper over to Jax. He grabbed a crayon and drew a person, or at least a four-year-old’s version of one: head, stick legs, and eyes.

Only...she was laying on the ground.

Jax grabbed a red crayon and scribbled patches around her. “Blood,” he said. Then he drew another stick figure, bigger than any of the rest. “That’s the bad man,” he said. Then he frowned and scribbled all of it out. His eyes filled with tears, and then he went into a full-on crying jag.

Tony pulled Jax onto his lap and let him lean against him. Jax’s thumb was in his mouth, something Tony usually discouraged, but not now.

He held his nephew as his heart turned inside out. Jax, sweet, innocent Jax, must have witnessed Stella’s death up close, if he’d seen her lifeblood flowing out of her. What could be worse for a kid?

If only Tony had taken a kinder and gentler approach with Stella. She’d been so young. His words had goaded her into leaving, and she’d been unequipped to be out there on the streets on her own. Sure, she’d thought she was grown up and fine; sure, she’d been the mother of a four-year-old child. But in so many ways, she’d been like a defiant teenager. You didn’t take them at their word; you didn’t let them run away and be on their own. You protected them, kept them safe until they grew up enough to get better sense.

With immense effort, he stopped himself from spiraling down into his grief and shame. Now wasn’t the time. He had to focus on his nephew, not his own feelings.

Jax’s tears still flowed, but he was quieting a little. His monotonous little bleats just sounded miserable, full of loss and grief.

Tony looked helplessly at Dr. Liz. “No progress,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“This is progress. It’s him processing what happened, and what better place than here, with you and me to help him?” She went over to her laptop and took a few notes.

Tony stroked Jax’s hair and the crying wound down. He grabbed a couple of tissues and wiped his nephew’s face.

“How are you doing, buddy?” he asked, and then added, feeling his way, “It’s okay to be sad and cry.”

Jax swallowed, wiggled his way down from Tony’s lap, and climbed back into the chair with the cushion.

“Why don’t you draw your family the way you wish it could be?” Dr. Liz suggested.

Jax drew, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, gripping the crayon tight. He drew two more of his head-with-legs people. “That’s me and you,” he informed Tony. He drew two more people, twice as big. “That’s Mommy and Miss Kayla.”

Uh-oh. Tony glanced at Dr. Liz, who was smiling and nodding.

Jax drew another shape, so big it covered most of the page. This one had four legs. “And that’s a big dog.”

“I like your big dog,” the therapist said, her voice encouraging. “Can you tell me about him, or the people?”

“He ’tects us,” Jax said seriously. “Like Sarge ’tects Davey.”

“I see,” she said thoughtfully.

Jax threw down his crayon like he’d completed a herculean task. Which, psychologically, maybe he had.

“Now, do you want to play with Mixter for a few minutes while your uncle and I talk?”

“Yeah!”

Dr. Liz disappeared into her back hallway and returned with the odd-looking creature. The dog trotted immediately to Jax, tufted ears high, tail wagging.

Jax ran to the basket of dog toys, selected a thick, knotted rope, and started playing tug with the dog.

The adults watched for a minute, and then Liz turned to him. “Any concerns about what happened here today?”

“Considering that he drew a picture of his mother bleeding on the ground, yeah.”

The therapist nodded. “That means he saw her body, at least. No wonder he’s having some post-traumatic stress.”

“I hate it.” Tony sucked in a breath, realized he was clenching his fists, and tried to relax. “I’m also concerned because he put Kayla, his preschool teacher, into the family picture.”

“Speaks to him getting attached to her. Not a bad thing, unless she’s going to abruptly disappear from his life.”

Tony lifted his hands, palms up. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. This is supposed to be a temporary gig here.”

She studied him shrewdly. “What’s your relationship with the preschool teacher?”

He felt his mouth quirk up a little. “You see too much. I like her a lot. But it’s not serious. It can’t be.”

“Because...” she prompted.

He wasn’t ready to go there with her. “Just because.”

Jax rolled on the floor with Mixter.

Tony reached over and picked up the picture Jax had drawn. “We’re not going to be able to bring his mother back, or get Kayla a permanent spot in his life,” he said slowly, “but maybe I could think about getting a dog.”

Dr. Liz smiled. “I couldn’t agree more. There’s a therapy dog program here in town, and a shelter just up the coast.” She searched for information on her phone, wrote it down, and handed it to him. “Addresses and phone numbers. But think hard before you take Jax there.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because, first of all, there won’t be any window-shopping. If Jax goes with you, you’ll take a dog home that day. I guarantee it.”

“You’re probably right.”

“And it’s hard to manage a scared new dog, and an excited little boy.” Her mouth quirked up on one side. “Maybe his preschool teacher could come and help you out.”

“Yeah!” Jax cried.

Tony looked down to see that Jax was playing much closer than he’d been before. “You were listening, buddy?”

“I wanna take Miss Kayla and go get a dog right now!”

It was the happiest and most animated that Jax had been all day. Tony would give a lot to keep him happy.

Even if it meant spending time with a sweet, compassionate woman he should never have kissed.