95. George
George
Jacob and Viola announced their engagement at dinner, much to the delight of everyone present.
If a minister had been handy, they undoubtedly would have been married before dessert.
Their happiness infused us all, but as the plates were cleared, I caught Sarah watching them with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
As a group, we moved toward the front door to bid the Jensens good night.
Sarah and I each offered an arm to Jacob’s father.
Mr. Jensen bobbed his head as we shuffled along.
“An au-spi-cious time to be pairing up. Have always said there’s no time like Christmas for love.
Proposed to the missus on Christmas Eve. Smartest thing I ever did.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Couldn’t agree more. You have a fine family, and I’m pleased it will soon be joined with mine.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “Daunt-less is the man in love, young George. Dauntless.”
“Dauntless.” I nodded. “You don’t say.” Sounded like Jacob.
Or Knightley. I glanced at Sarah, but she studied the floor.
Somehow, I was pushing her away. Damnation.
What should I do? We delivered Mr. Jensen to his wife and second son, who helped him with his coat.
Then Sarah and I stepped back from the bustle.
I clenched my jaw to keep from rambling into the silence between us. Lucky pennies—I could use some help right about now. I opened my hand toward her, my pennies glinting in the firelight—the only offering I could think to give her. “Penny for your thoughts.”
Sarah stared at my pennies but didn’t take one. She leaned her head close to mine. “Jacob’s whole family is wonderful, and they’re all so fond of Viola.” She sighed. “It’s like she’s already one of them.”
“She is well-loved by many.” I slid the pennies back in my pocket.
Sarah tensed but said nothing. I touched her arm. “Goldie?” She gave a slight shake of her head.
Viola and Jacob emerged from the dining room with flushed cheeks that spoke of recent kissing, and it was long minutes before the house quieted to the crackling fire in the parlor. Father and then Viola climbed the stairs to bed, but Sarah and I lingered downstairs.
Her shoulders slumped, and her lips—though not turned down—held the hint of a frown.
Would she tell me to stop embarrassing her with my fawning?
I raked a hand through my hair. I sat on the couch facing the fire, near the caramel velvet chairs.
Our usual couch was far from the fire, and the night had grown cold.
Though I could easily imagine a hundred ways to generate heat, I wasn’t so oblivious as to think any of them would be a good idea at present.
I patted the seat beside me. She left a foot of space between us. It might as well have been a mile.
I moved my arm to the back of the couch but didn’t dare drape it over her shoulders, much as I wanted to. Please let it not be me that is upsetting her. “You know… I’m a good listener.”
“You’ll think less of me.”
Her words stung. I closed the distance between us, and pulled her close. “Impossible.”
She tucked her head against my neck and let out a deep sigh. “I’m so happy for Viola.”
“Clearly.”
“No, really… I am.” She twisted her fingers in her skirt. “Viola is… well, easy to love. Jacob and his family adore her.”
Her hair tickled my face, and I smoothed it back. She stared into the fire. “I suspect we’ll go into town and find that everyone in the whole county likes and admires her.” I covered her fidgeting hand with mine. Listened. “She’ll live at the center of a vast web of friendship and love.”
I laid my cheek atop her head. “You paint a gloomy picture.”
“The problem isn’t Viola… It’s me.” She dropped her chin to her chest, slumping into herself.
I squeezed her hand. “You’re not the problem.”
She gave a painful, brittle laugh. “Don’t you see?”
“I wish I knew.”
Her voice cracked. “I’m jealous. I’m a horrible friend?—”
“Shh.” I tightened my arm around her.
“No.” Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “Just look at me. Sitting here feeling sorry for myself on what is probably the happiest day of her life.”
“Sarah—”
“I build walls and hide behind them.” Her body softened into me. “I refuse to let people in. I know I do it. It’s why people think I’m icy.”
“You were the furthest thing from icy at the banquet. And here tonight.”
“That was different.”
I laced my fingers with hers. “How?”
She considered for so long I thought she wouldn’t answer. But I waited.
“I was…” The fire popped, loud in the hush between us. She drew in a shaky breath and exhaled her words in a rush. “I was with you.”
Hope, fragile as spun glass, filled my bubble.
“That settles it.” A buzz rumbled in my chest, climbed my throat, and came out as a deep chuckle. “You must never go anywhere without me ever again.”
Her shoulder shook against me as her soft laughter joined mine. “I hardly think that’s possible,” she said, then added with a whisper so soft I feared I’d imagined it, “But it sounds nice.”
The tension that had plagued us all evening melted away. “Better than nice,” I agreed.
We sat snuggled together in comfortable silence for ten minutes or more as the fire burned down. I managed to hold myself back from… what? Ruining our friendship? Building on it?
We walked upstairs, hand in hand, pausing in the quiet of the dim hallway between our doors. It took everything in me to kiss her hand and turn away.
“Night, Goldie,” I said from just inside my door.
“Night, George.”
Her door clicked shut.
I pressed my forehead against my doorframe and tried to think about sardines.
The sun sat low on the horizon as I climbed Viola’s front steps.
I’d gone with her and Jacob into town to meet the minister.
Their wedding date was set for New Year’s Day.
The thought of Sarah alone in the farmhouse tugged at me, sent me trudging a quarter mile through the biting cold back to Viola’s instead of lingering with the Jensens.
I was grateful to be back inside the snug farmhouse. Sarah wasn’t in the front parlor. My feet carried me down the hall toward the kitchen, following the faint crackle of a fire, seeking something warmer than a hearth. What were my feet thinking?
I peeked through the half-open door across from the dining room where a gentle fire glowed on the hearth in the small room.
There she was—stretched out long on the couch, book in hand, unaware of me.
The soft shush of paper sliding over paper floated across the room as she turned the page.
Her cheeks were pink from the fire, her hair mussed from leaning on the arm of the couch.
Her lower lip caught in her teeth for a brief, devastating moment. Only a heartbeat.
I gripped the doorframe for balance, must have frostbite in my toes. “Well now.” I stepped into the room with feigned nonchalance. “Isn’t this cozy?”
Sarah sat up. Her eyes—mostly olive today—met mine over her book. “You’re back.” She set her book aside. “How was town?”
“Cold.” I dropped onto the couch just beyond the blanket covering her legs. “I fear my toes have turned to ice.”
“Your boots are wet. If you want warm toes, you should take them off.”
I raised a brow. “You wouldn’t mind? It would be terribly improper.”
“We’re on a farm, George. I think it’s allowed.”
I bent to remove my boots and stretched my stocking-covered feet toward the fire. My toes ached as warmth returned. I said, “I’d be less self-conscious about my near-nudity if you were also in stocking feet.”
Sarah pointed to where her slippers sat, tucked under the edge of the couch.
“Aren’t we a scandalous pair?”
She laughed, low and deep. “Jane would be aghast.”
I slid a hand under the thick blanket until I found her narrow stocking-clad foot.
“Hey… that tickles.” Her toes curled beneath the thin weave of her stocking.
“It’s wonderfully warm under there.”
“Oh dear. That’s your impish smile. What?—”
I lifted her feet and, in a single smooth motion, scooted close and draped her legs and the blanket across my thighs, impulsive fool that I was. No taking it back now. She raised her brows but didn’t move her legs from where they rested warm against me.
I shrugged. “It’s a medical necessity. I must get warm before frostbite claims me.”
Sarah leaned toward me with her elbow propped on the back of the couch. “So,” she said. “You’re in need of rescue, then?”
She tugged the blanket partway up my chest and smoothed it with her palm. Her velvety-soft lips filled my vision. Damnation, impossibly kissable.
“I…” But I couldn’t speak.
Her lower lip vanished into her mouth, reappearing with a faint shine that stole my breath and every coherent thought. Her weight shifted as she relaxed into me under the blanket. I swallowed. Hard.
She tilted her head toward me another fraction of an inch and laid her hand on my forearm. “You need me…” She slid the tip of one finger lightly back and forth on my forearm. “To warm you up.”
My chest rose and fell. I closed my eyes, forced my breathing to slow. But all I could smell was almonds. Maddening. I clenched the blanket in my fist. Restraint. Remember restraint. But I knew exactly how she would feel in my arms. Had imagined her kiss a thousand times.
She shifted closer, her breath warm on my cheek. I opened my eyes. Her lips hovered an inch from mine. Slightly parted, unbearably close. I was strangely certain that she would’ve kissed me if I’d just kept my eyes closed. Should I shut them again? Maybe she hadn’t noticed. Stop being ridiculous.
I laughed under my breath, helpless. “I need…”
Without consulting my brain, my hand skimmed up the warm line of her arm, slid over her shoulder, and cupped the delicate curve of her neck and then her cheek.
Oh, how I needed…
She nuzzled against my hand, melting into my touch.
My traitorous thumb brushed across the smooth curve of her cheekbone. The sound of her breath catching hit me like a blow. The very air seemed to pulse between us. I had to kiss her. I was drawn by something stronger than sense. It was my only wish.
Wish.
Rhymes with fish.
Something about fish?
Sardines.
Agh.
Blasted sneering sardines.
My resolve wavered. I couldn’t force my hand away. Couldn’t let myself close the distance. I was locked in battle with myself.
Maybe we’d just sit here, almost kissing, until I lost my mind or my mutinous muscles completed their coup. Or until we grew old and gray together. A log shifted in the fire.
With a great sigh and a painful wrench, I tore my hand away. Collapsed back on the couch, as if a few inches of distance would somehow help. Puffed out my cheeks. Long exhale. I shoved my hands into my hair to keep from reaching again for the nape of her neck and… sardines.
I opened one eye to peek at Sarah. She regarded me from under half-closed lids. A small, knowing smile played at her lips. Don’t look at her lips. How could she be so composed? Was she teasing me on purpose?
I said, “I am no longer cold.”
She looked… satisfied? What was happening? Was she trying to drive me mad? Blazing Knightley would know what to do.
“This is an excellent blanket.” I laughed. It came out mildly deranged. “Honestly, I’m surprised everything around me isn’t bursting into flames.”
Sarah swung her feet to the floor and tucked them smoothly into her slippers. She lightly brushed her hand across my cheek. “See you at dinner.” And then she slipped out of the room and was gone. At least I didn’t chase after her. A small victory.
All through Christmas Eve, I thought of kissing. What if I hadn’t apologized and run away that night in the snow?
My eyes popped open. Had I been sleeping? Light footsteps creaked the floorboards in the hall. I held my breath and strained for any sound. Another soft step in the hall. Closer now. Sarah. I flew across my room and pulled open my door. Sarah stood with her back to me, hand reaching for her door.
“Psst.”
She jumped but didn’t shriek. In the dim hall, she turned toward me with a hand over her heart. “George?”
I opened my door fully but didn’t step through. “Thought I heard something.”
“Like a cat?”
“Sounded sneaky like a cat, but bigger. Maybe a cat burglar?”
She took a step away from her door—toward me. “Pirates, perhaps?”
I tilted my head. “Louder than pirates and no singing about rum. More like Napoleon’s legions.”
She took another step toward me. “Quite a disturbance.”
My voice welled up from somewhere deep in my chest. “Dangerous territory you find yourself in tonight.”
“Hmm. Dangerous?” She stopped in front of me. “Good thing I’m no lily-livered fool.” She rested one warm hand lightly on my chest, lifted her lips, and met my gaze. “Are you?”
What new madness was this? She was daring me to kiss her. She thought I was scared. I should be scared.
I bent toward her reckless eyes, her intoxicating almond scent, and her long-dreamed-of mouth. I leaned toward the line I shouldn’t cross. “I’m no craven.”
Quick as a blink, she went up on her toes and pressed her lips softly to mine. She dashed across the hall and through her door before I recovered from my shock.
“Night, George.”
“Damnation,” I said, and brought a shaky hand to my mouth. I stared at the empty hall. What just happened? She had ambushed me with a kiss. She’d crossed the line. Her soft laugh carried across the dark hall as her door clicked shut. But I could barely hear it over the thrashing of my heart.