Chapter 14
Luke
My fingers are touching Allison’s as we both stare at the box. I guess I’m less concerned about what’s in the box and more concerned about what’s going on inside my heart and mind this evening. Is it possible I found the woman I’ve been searching for all of my life and a new career all at once?
I know, it sounds crazy that someone could know after just a few hours that the person they’re with is the one they want to be with forever, and that’s the main thing that’s making me wait. She’s exactly what I want, honest and upright, sweet and funny, compassionate and kind, and the biggest question in my mind is whether or not she could stick with a man like me. I don’t feel like I’m worthy of her.
That, and I’m going to sound like a nutcase if I tell her what I’m thinking, after spending just a few hours with her.
“Oh. You two found the mistletoe box.” Miss Judy’s voice almost makes me jump out of my skin. I was so focused on Allison that I didn’t even notice she had walked into the room. Wrapped in a robe, she holds a glass of water in her hand. She gives us an apologetic look. “Jim is thirsty. And I heard you two were still up in here.”
“This is the last thing we have. It’s a mistletoe box?” Allison says, sounding intrigued.
Miss Judy nods her head. “I have a list in there of all the people who have kissed under the mistletoe, because... I hate to say it’s special, because I don’t believe in magic. But every couple who have kissed under that mistletoe have gone on to get married. It’s...special. It was part of the lure of the inn one time.”
“I see,” Allison says thoughtfully.
“There’s information in there if you want to look at it. I need to get this water back to Jim. I’ll see you two in the morning.”
“Good night,” I say, and Allison murmurs the same.
She’s gone for about fifteen seconds before Allison looks at me. “Do you believe that?”
“She said there was information in the box. Let’s look,” I say, not wanting to say that, no, I don’t really believe it, except if there’s documentation, then... It must be true.
Allison carefully opens the box, and sure enough, there is a paper, typewritten, with names and dates, marriages, and even some of them have children listed.
It goes the whole way back to the 1930s.
There’s another paper, and Allison picks it up and reads out loud, “Everyone that we know of who has kissed under this mistletoe has gone on to get married, stay married, and have a happy marriage together.” Jim’s and Judy’s signatures are under that statement.
Allison and I look at each other. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I was already thinking along...the lines of a relationship anyway, and the idea of kissing Allison under the mistletoe is not difficult for me to think about.
“I wonder where we should hang it?” Allison says, looking around the room and allowing some of the heaviness of the air around us to dissipate.
The most obvious spot is in the doorway, but I see a hook, on the ceiling right beside the Christmas tree, that looks perfect.
She is looking at the doorway, but I touch her shoulder and then point to the hook. There is a hewn log that is exposed, and I hadn’t noticed it until I started looking for a place to hang mistletoe. “What about that?” I ask, pointing at the hook.
“I hadn’t noticed that,” Allison says, sounding surprised.
“Me, either. Not until I started looking.”
“It’s perfect. Two people who are standing together by the Christmas tree are probably already together.”
“Yeah. Much different than a doorway, where people could just meet.”
“Yeah,” Allison says, and her voice holds a touch of whimsy. “Do you mind if I get it out?”
“Not at all. I’ll grab the step stool, and we’ll see if it works there. Maybe it will look out of place.”
I say that, but I’m thinking not. It’s going to look perfect there. Even I, who am not very good at decorating, can tell that the mistletoe is perfect for that location.
By the time I have the step stool pulled over, Allison has the mistletoe out of the box, and she hands it up to me, our fingers brushing once more. Every time they’ve done that this evening, it’s sent the same shivers and tingles up my arm and down my backbone. And made me want to stop what I’m doing and pull her close. I wish I had an idea of how she felt. But I suppose I can’t expect to know how she feels, if I don’t say how I feel.
“It’s going to be kind of hard for us to do this and not be standing under it together,” Allison says, and she sounds a little tentative. “Would you like for me to move back?”
This is my chance. I can let her know how I feel and that I’m not just in it for the short term. After all, we both know that people who stand underneath the mistletoe are supposed to go on to have happy marriages for the rest of their lives. I’m about to tip my hand.
I look her straight in the eye so she can’t mistake my meaning and say, “No.”