RUE

Something was up.

Thought I couldn’t put my finger on what. For the first time, my son had actually been disappointed to see me walk through Rosario’s front door, which was a first. And then, when Willy showed up, they’d disappeared into the garage doing who knew what.

“What are they doing out there?” I finally asked Rosario when I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Christmas is the season for not asking questions, young lady.”

“I hope he’s not bugging Guillermo. He tends to be in the way.”

“If he gets in the way, Willy won’t be shy about sending him inside.”

I wished they’d hurry. There was a roast in the slow cooker and I was starving. I hadn’t anticipated having to wait around while my son and Willy did a secret project.

“It won’t take long,” Rosario said, and I realized I’d been drumming my fingers on the counter. “And that’s a pretty sweater.”

“Thanks” I smiled and looked down at the thick sweater coat I’d thrown on after work.

It was a blend of heathery blues and greens and tan and was one of my favorites. Rosario fingered the knit, looking more closely at it.

“You know, I have some merino wool that exact shade of green. I could knit a beautiful scarf to go with that. Stay here. I’m going to run upstairs and grab it just to make sure it’s the right shade.”

Before I could protest, she was gone.

Ay.

Rosario had chicken breasts roasting in the oven and the aroma was making my stomach grumble. Being left in the kitchen while my supper was waiting was torture.

When the door to the garage opened, I hoped it meant Andrés was ready to go, but it was Willy who walked into the kitchen.

“Where’s Ma?”

“She went upstairs to dig through her yarn stash.”

He frowned and crossed his arms.

“We need tape. Little kids are not good at handling tape.”

Being alone in the kitchen with him again made me think of the night we’d decorated the tree and he’d almost kissed me. I’d gotten scared and run from him, and things had been slightly awkward between us since.

“I don’t know where she keeps it. Did you check her computer desk?”

“I’ve checked all the usual places, and I can’t find any. There’s no way my mother would run out of tape in December.”

“I’m dying of curiosity, you know.”

He gave me a stern look.

“You’re not allowed to ask questions in December.”

I chuckled.

“That’s what Rosario said, too.”

“And no using maternal superpowers to weasel secrets out of the kid. He’s excited and he’ll be sad if he gives it away.”

“Alright, okay. I promise” I smiled. “It won’t be easy, but I won’t ask any questions. And it’s less than two weeks to wait. Thirteen days, I think. Today’s the twelfth, right?”

His expression darkened immediately and his jaw clenched before he gave a sharp nod.

“Yeah. It’s the twelfth.”

“Umm... are you okay?” I didn’t want to pry, but he wasn’t shy about asking me that question.

“Yeah I'm okay” he shrugged. “Today’s the anniversary of... you know, the accident.”

A cold pit formed in my stomach.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t know” I muttered.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m trying not to focus on it, you know? I’d rather it just go back to being a day in December, thirteen days before Christmas.”

“I felt like that when my wedding anniversary came and went. I just wanted to pretend it was a random day in June.”

“I guess you know a little bit about how I feel” he gave me a sad smile.

“I can’t compare what I went through to what you suffered, Willy. A lot of people get divorced.”

He shrugged.

“We both lost what we thought our lives would be and have to make new ones.”

“How’s yours going?”

“I have good days and bad, Rue” he looked like he was going to say more, but he frowned again. “But it'd be a lot better if I had some damn tape.”

We both looked around, and I found a roll in the junk drawer.

“Here’s some.”

“Thanks.”

He took it from me but paused before going back to the garage.

“Supper smells good.”

Then he was gone.

I sighed and snuck a chocolate chip cookie from the jar on the counter and sat down to wait for Rosario.

***

WILLY

I could rebuild a Ford 305 engine with my eyes closed. But I was about one more piece of tape from crying and begging my mother to help Andrés wrap his gift.

It was the classic wreath, with pinwheel pasta painted green and glued to cardboard. The groups of red berries appeared to be painted clay balls and a glittery red bow was glued crookedly to the top.

The thing did not want to be wrapped.

After several tries of using just paper, Andrés suggested the wreath needed to be in a box because it had a funny shape. Rummaging through the recycling bin had turned up the box from a frozen pizza, which was the perfect size.

“She’s going to think I got her a pepperoni pizza,” Andrés said with obvious glee.

I’d put him in charge of the paper first, but he kept tearing it with the box corners. I took over and handed him the tape.

That, was a mistake.

It was in the boy’s hair, on his shirt, on the basement floor and there was even a piece stuck to my mother’s car because that’s where it landed when Andrés flung it because it was stuck to him.
Once I’d found the second roll, I’d looked at Drés.

“Okay, champ. We’re burning through wrapping paper here and I can tell you this was the only roll of Rapunzel paper in twenty miles. This might also be the last roll of tape in the house.”

“Okay. I’ll be careful.”

Then he pulled off a ten-inch strip of tape which ended up tangled around his wrist. With a lot of patience and a few bad words I didn’t say out loud, I helped him cover the pizza box with the princess paper completely and taped it all together. It wasn’t pretty and Rue might need a machete to hack through the packaging, but it was done.

Andrés held it in his hands with a huge smile on his face.

God, this kid.

“I hope she loves it.”

I hadn’t experienced getting school-made gifts for myself, but I remembered my mother’s reaction to every gift I’d ever made her as a child.

“Remember the weird reindeer head made out of felt on the Christmas tree?” I asked.

Andrés nodded, still grinning.

“It was pretty funny looking.”

“But my mother said it was one of her favorites, right? I made that when I was in second grade and she loved it. Your mom will love your wreath just like that.”

“I bet she’ll keep it forever.”

Then he stopped smiling.

“She would probably keep it in her special hope chest, but the men took it. They took all our stuff.”

Those would be the men from the auction company. 

“But you have new stuff now, and your mom’s taking care of things so nobody will ever take your stuff again.”

“I know, but it was sad, Willy.”

Andrés gave a tiny shrug of one shoulder that made me want to beat the crap out of the kid’s father.

“Mommy was really sad when they took her hope chest. She even cried in the bathroom. She loved it a lot because she said it’s where women keep their hopes and dreams in.”

“Maybe she’ll get another chest and have new hopes and dreams.”

“They cost lots of money.”

“I don’t know about that. You can use a cardboard box if that’s what you have. It doesn’t matter what you hold your hopes and dreams in, as long as you hold on to them.”

Andrés didn’t look too sure, but before I could say more, my mother stuck her head into the garage.

“Ruelle wants to get Drés home and feed him, so I hope you’re almost done.”

“We’re done, Ma,” I said. “He’ll be right in.”

“Thank you for helping me. And for getting her favorite wrapping paper” he said and held the present out to me. “Will you hide it for me? I don’t want her to guess what it is.”

If Ruelle could guess it was a pasta wreath in a pepperoni pizza box from the lumpy package in my hands, she was probably psychic.

“I’ll hide it for you. And remember, it’s a secret.”

Once Andrés was gone, I went up to my apartment. Ruelle was sometimes in the garage to help my mother with groceries or the recycling, so that wasn’t a good hiding place. I decided to put it in my closet, just in case the women got it in their heads I needed housecleaning help.

But as I passed by my bed, the double wedding ring quilt my mother and her friends had stitched for us caught my eye and I set Andrés’ gift on the bed. I pulled the quilt off and drew in a deep breath at the sight of Del’s hope chest. It had been my wedding gift to her.

Closing my eyes, I remembered the way she’d thrown her arms around my neck and kissed all over my face, not caring that they’d already done my makeup. Then they’d whisked her away to put on her gown and the next time I’d seen her was at the end of the church aisle.

My hand shook as I pushed the button to release the locking mechanism, and then I lifted the lid. The smell of cedar filled my sinuses and I released the breath I’d been holding.

Right on top, the last thing Delores had ever put in the hope chest, was the ultrasound photo. I stared at the fuzzy black-and-white image, my gaze tracing the tiny profile with its tiny bump of a nose. It was stupid, I knew, but I imagined it looked like my wife’s nose and our daughter would have looked like her. I knew that under the photograph were the layers of Delores Perez Arriaga’s life.

A tattered Holly Hobbie doll she’d had since she was little. Her diplomas and graduation tassels. The velvet box her engagement ring had been nestled in when I took her to Fiji and asked her to be my wife. Keepsakes from our wedding. And the first few rows of a pink baby blanket on a circular knitting needle with the ultrasound photo next to it. There was so much space left in the chest. So many more layers of Del’s life she’d never get to treasure.

Releasing a shuddering breath, I closed the chest and smoothed the quilt back over the top. It was painful, seeing the bits and pieces of our life together, and so was imagining Ruelle having something so special and personal taken from her on top of all the other losses she’d suffered.

A woman should have a place to keep her treasures from the past and her hopes and dreams for the future.

***

RUE

Saturdays for me usually meant spending time with my son and catching up on some housecleaning, but Rosario had enlisted his help to make cookies for her holiday baskets.

Though I wasn’t sure how much help a five-year-old in a kitchen full of cookie dough, peanut butter, and melted chocolate would be, I was thankful to have a little time to finish up my own Christmas preparations.

Thanks to a lot of big sales, my shopping was done, but I’d been putting off the wrapping. It was one more task the housekeeping staff had handled for me and one more reminder of how many things I didn’t know how to do.

But if there was one thing I’d learned about myself, it was that I could do anything. Maybe not perfectly, but I’d get things done. And when the pile of presents I would put under the tree after Andrés went to bed on Christmas Eve was wrapped, I felt a surge of satisfaction.

He wouldn’t even notice the lumpy paper, crooked tape, or the lack of elegant ribbons and bows.

Feeling proud of myself, I loaded the presents into a plastic laundry basket, which I carried into the basement to hide behind a pile of boxes that belonged to the Blooms. Not that I thought Andrés would venture down the off-limits stairs, but I hid them anyway, just in case.

I was just turning off the basement light when a knock sounded on the kitchen door. Frowning, I pulled the basement door closed and walked over to pull back the curtain. I never had company, and neither Rosario nor Drés would knock.

It was Willy.

Oh my...

The wind had picked up, and his cheeks were pink as he blew into his hands to keep them warm. When he saw me in the window, he raised an eyebrow as if to ask why I was staring at him instead of letting him inside where it was warm. Since I had no excuse other than the fact that I liked looking at him, I let him in.

“Thanks,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I was halfway across the street when I realized the sun was a big lie meant to lure me outside without a coat or gloves.”

“Would you like a coffee or hot cocoa?” I asked.

Years of being Armando’s hostess made the offer a reflex.

“I won’t be here that long.”

Of course, he wouldn’t.

Since the day we’d decorated the Broughton Christmas tree and had that moment in the kitchen, we’d been dancing around each other and one of them always found an excuse to be somewhere else before the tension got too heavy.

“There was an incident with a bag of sugar,” he said. “Ma sent me over to see if you have an extra bag. Or at least a few cups.”

I cringed.

“Did the sugar incident have Drés’ name on it?”

“No” he winced. “It was me. Which is why I’m the one here begging for more sugar after cleaning up the three-quarters of a bag I knocked into the sink full of hot, soapy water.”

I couldn’t help laughing at his chagrined expression and, after a few seconds, he joined in. It was too easy to imagine Rosario’s reaction to the mess and see her shooing her son out to scavenge for more sugar.

“I was going to run to the store,” he said, “But she said she was halfway through her grocery list and there was no sense in wasting the gas if you have sugar to spare.”

“I do have a lot to spare, so you’re in luck. I bought a lot of extra when I went shopping because Andrés and I have been doing more baking.”

“Like brownies?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“We baked some yesterday, although as amazing as your mother’s baking is, I’m not sure why you like my brownies so much.”

He shrugged and reached into the goody jar I pointed to on the counter.

“My mother’s brownies are light and fluffy, almost like cake. Yours are chewier and...fudgier.”

“And from a mix,” I confessed, but he didn’t seem to care as he took a bite.

I took one myself since the jar was open, and our gazes locked as we devoured the brownies. His eyes were warm and slightly amused, and I realized that since I’d moved to the goody jar, we were standing very close to each other.

And he had chocolate on his lip.

I stared at the speck of brownie and then felt a shudder of desire through my core when his tongue flicked out and snagged it.

Oh God...

I knew I should look away from his mouth, but I’d spent too much time lately imagining what those lips would feel like against mine.

For a long time now, I’d been so hurt and life had been so hard, I wasn’t sure I’d ever want a man again. I should have been thrilled that Armando’s actions hadn’t killed my desire forever.

But why did it have to be now and with this man?

Was it my imagination or had he moved closer to me?

I lifted my gaze to his eyes. The warmth there conflicted with the slightly furrowed brow, suggesting he was experiencing the same inner turmoil I was. The need for the kiss was there between us, but we both knew it was such a bad idea.

Very bad.

Just as I told myself to back up and put a little more space between us, he lifted his hand and touched my face. He ran his thumb down the line of my jaw, and the gesture was so unexpectedly sweet and gentle, that I turned my face into it.

“Willy—”

When his lips touched mine, I immediately sighed and surrendered to his kiss.

Oh...

Like his touch, it was gentle at first. Almost hesitant. But when I pressed my hands to his back, holding him close, he deepened the kiss.

He tasted like chocolate and I opened my mouth to him, letting his tongue slip between my lips. His hands were at my waist and his fingers tightened as he nipped at my bottom lip.

Oh, oh...

Then he pulled away and the disappointment was almost as sharp as the desire I’d been swept up in. I knew him well enough to see the storminess in his expression and I wanted to say something casual to take the seriousness out of the kiss. But the words wouldn’t come, so I just stepped away.

“I should get that sugar for you,” I said, and I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t respond.

I dug into my pantry and handed him two entire unopened bags of sugar.

“Just take the whole thing and Rosario can replace it when she goes shopping.”

He took it from me and nodded.

“Hey listen, Rue, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s no big deal,” I lied. “When Drés is done helping your mom, you can just send him across the street. I’ll be pretty busy today.”

“Okay.”

Wait, okay?

He started for the door, and then stopped and looked back at me. For a moment he looked like he was going to say something important, but then he just nodded again.

“Thanks for the sugar, Rue.”

Once the door had closed behind him, I leaned against the counter and put my fingertips to my mouth. Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed me, as he said, but I couldn’t help being glad he had.

I just wished he didn’t have to look so unhappy about it.