Then he looked at the woman sitting across from him, blond hair falling across her cheek and dipping into the collar of her threadbare coat… blue eyes seeking his from time to time, sometimes shy and puzzled, and other times shining with a strange and contagious excitement. And he thought he knew why. Somehow, when he looked at this woman, things happened inside him. He felt things he'd never felt before… thought about things he'd never thought about before. When he looked at Karen, he thought about going to bed with her, which wasn't unusual. But he also thought about sleeping all night long with her cuddled up beside him, and having her there when he woke up in the morning. And he found himself thinking about babies and private jokes, and the way his mother and father still looked at each other, and held hands in church.
'What?' Karen asked suddenly, smiling but uncertain. 'Why are you looking at me like that?'
'Nothing,' he said, grinning at her.
'Just… looking, I guess.'
'Oh God-don't tell me, do I have ketchup on my face?'
'No,' he assured her tenderly, 'you don't have ketchup on your face. Maybe just a little flour on your nose, though.'
'Andrew, tell me the truth. Do I have ketchup on my face?'
'No, Mom. Honest.'
'All right.' Pink and flustered, she turned that fierce blue glare back to Tony and demanded, 'Then what were you thinking?'
'Nothing,' he insisted, laughing as his chest expanded with all the things he couldn't say to her yet. 'I was just… thinking. Nothing important.'
By the time they started home with the tree, the snow was coming down in big, fat flakes and beginning to stick to the sidewalks and rooftops. The main streets glistened black and wet, reflecting headlights and Christmas lights in the midafternoon dusk, but on the quiet residential streets, car tracks left meandering ribbons on blankets of pristine white. It wasn't bad yet, but getting thick enough to make Tony glad he'd brought the four-wheel- drive.
He and Karen left Andrew making snowballs on the front walk while they carried the tree up the stairs. They made so much noise laughing and falling down and trying to shush each other that Mrs. Goldrich came out to see what was going on.
Karen immediately straightened her face and said solemnly, 'Merry Christmas, Mrs. Goldrich.'
With all the dignity he could muster, Tony echoed it. 'Yeah, Merry Christmas, Mrs. Goldrich.'
The landlady grunted and went back into her apartment, muttering something about paying for any damage to the woodwork. The instant the door closed after her, Karen and Tony collapsed, snorting and giggling, into each other's arms.
Eventually, pulling and tugging, swearing and laughing and getting in each other's way, they did manage to get the tree up the stairs, through the door and into Karen's living room. Tony stood it upright in front of the bay window, right in the center of the loop of train track, and they both stood back to admire it. Then they looked at each other-sweaty, dusty, cov-ered with pitch and pine needles-and the last fitful chuckles sighed away into silence.
A second later she was in his arms, and he was kissing her with a hunger he hadn't even known about until that moment, plundering her mouth as if he were a parched and weary wanderer and she the life-giving spring. Searching her mouth, holding her as if he knew that everything he'd ever needed, wanted, or dared hope for, was right there, in her.
When she pulled her mouth away from his, she was shaking like a leaf. He folded her close and held her while their hearts knocked in crazy, mixed rhythms, and finally said in a ragged whisper, 'I've been wanting to do that all day.'
'Really?' Her voice was weak and faint; he could feel her arms holding tightly to him, and her face pressing into the curve of his neck.
'Longer than that, actually. A lot longer.' He separated himself from her just far enough so he could slip his fingers under her chin. He wanted to see her face, her mouth still swollen and moist from his kiss, her eyes dazed and sultry. Even in the semidarkness of premature twilight he could see his own hunger reflected in her eyes. 'Yeah,' he said softly, 'and I think I'm going to have to do it again…'
But he didn't, not right away. Because this time he wanted to take his time about it, think about it, imagine her lips coming to rest against his, opening under his, the warm, sweet taste of her on his tongue. He wanted to watch her eyes while he slipped his hand inside her coat and discovered the palm-fitting curve of her breast, and under it the trip-hammer beat of her heart.
She gave a sharp gasp when he touched her there, and closed her eyes, not wanting him to see the longing in them. It had been so long, and she'd almost forgotten the feeling. But had it ever felt so wonderful, or so terrible, this pleasure that was almost pain? Oh, how she wanted-but in the next moment, instead of leaning into his hand and inviting further explorations as she wanted to do so badly, she was wrenching herself away from him, trembling.
He called her name in a voice she hardly recognized. 'Karen… ' And then he said it once again on. a soft exhalation as he registered the sound she'd heard already: Andrew's footsteps, clomping up the stairs.
'Hey,' Andrew said as he burst into the room, an avalanche of melting snow and childish enthusiasm, 'it looks great, doesn't it? And you can see it from down there in the yard, just like I thought. Let's put the decorations on it right now. Can we, Mom?'
'Of course,' Karen said faintly. 'I'll get them… '
Tony, who'd been standing with his back to them, finally turned and said with gravel in his voice, 'What we need to do is anchor this monster to the ceiling so it won't fall over. You wouldn't happen to have a stepladder, would you?'
Karen shook her head. Andrew said, 'Mrs. Gold-rich has one. Out in the backyard, by the porch where the washing machine is.'
'All right.' Tony snapped his fingers at Andrew and growled, 'Hey, let's go get it. What are we waiting for? Lead the way.'
As he followed Andrew out the door, he threw Karen a look that made her insides react in strange, exciting ways. A look of frustration and promise.
By the time they came back with the ladder, she had her meager supply of decorations spread out on the couch, the ones she and Bob had bought for their tiny coffee table tree their first Christmas together, the year Andrew was born. A box of unbreakable red balls, some white plastic snowflakes, a few feet of silver tinsel garland, a single string of lights, and a crumpled gold foil star. She touched the star, remembering how dismayed they'd been when Bob had stepped on it accidentally while backing up to admire the tree, and how they'd comforted each other, and finally laughed about it and decided to keep it anyway, to always remember that first Christmas…
'It's not much for such a big tree, is it?' she said, clearing her throat as Tony came up behind her. 'One string of lights isn't going to go very far.'
'It's a start.' He had that particular gruffness in his voice that meant he was going to say or do something nice. 'And… I've probably got a couple of strings lying around my place we can add to it. Um-' he coughed and shifted uncomfortably '-if you want me to, I can bring 'em tomorrow.'
'That would be-' she paused, then, with a soft, inward smile, substituted for that forbidden word,
'Nah, I don't need 'em. I hadn't planned to put up a tree this year, actually. Too much trouble. I'm going to my folks for Christmas, anyway.'
'Oh,' Karen said. 'I see. Well, then… '
'I always go to my parents' place Christmas Day,' Tony said. 'For dinner, and… you know. Traditional family get-together.'
'That's… nice.'
'Yeah.'
They stood side by side in silence, watching Andrew maneuver the ladder into place astride the train track. Then Karen said, 'What about Christmas Eve?'
