Make-Believe Mistletoe

Chapter Two

Following the scents of food, Lucy wandered into the kitchen a short time later. She had changed into a dark-red sweater and dry jeans, and her feet were clad in thick red socks. She'd left her boots by the fire to dry.

Still wearing the damp jeans and gray sweatshirt he'd worn earlier, though he had kicked off his rubberized boots, Banner stood at the stove, stirring something in a large stockpot.

“That smells delicious. What is it?”

“Vegetable-beef soup,” he answered without turning around. “I hope no one's a vegetarian. If they are, I'll rustle up something else.”

She peered over his shoulder into the pot. “That looks homemade.”

“It is. I had a couple of containers stashed in the freezer. All I had to do was thaw and heat.” A timer dinged, and he reached for an oven mitt, then bent to pull a large pan of corn bread from the oven. It smelled as good as the soup.

Lucy stared at Banner in astonishment. “You made all of this?”

He shrugged. “I like to eat, and I'm the only one here to do the cooking.”

“I see.”

“Where's everyone else?”

Just as he spoke, a heavy gust of wind threw ice pellets against the kitchen window. The lights flickered but remained on.

Relieved that they hadn't been plunged into darkness, Lucy released the breath she had been holding. “Pop and Miss Annie are changing clothes in your bedroom. Joan and the children are using the guest room. Bobby Ray waited while I changed in the bathroom, and now he's in there.”

“I'm surprised he fit.”

Lucy laughed. The bathroom was rather small and Bobby Ray was notably large. But Banner wasn't smiling. Did he ever?

One half of the big country kitchen served as a dining room. A double trestle oak table filled most of the area on the other side of a sit-down bar fitted with two oak stools. The table was surrounded by six ladder-back oak chairs-a lot of seating space for a man who lived alone, she mused. “Would you like me to set the table?”

He pointed. “Dishes are in that cabinet.”

Lucy carried an armload of functional brown stoneware to the dining area. She paused to run a hand appreciatively over the smooth surface of the table. Bending, she studied the solid but graceful pedestals, then took a moment to admire one of the beautifully contoured chairs. She glanced up to find Banner watching her, and she smiled a bit self-consciously.

“I have a thing for nice furniture,” she admitted, “and you have some beautiful pieces. This dining set is wonderful. And that rocker in the living room is gorgeous. And I couldn't help but notice the tables in the living room and the furniture in the bedrooms. So much nice wood.”

“Thanks.” He turned back to the stove.

She stroked a hand over the smooth grain of the tabletop again, envying him the opportunity to do so every day. “I really admire the quality of this dining set. Do you mind if I ask where you shop for your furniture?”

“My shop's back behind the house.”

“No, I meant-wait a minute. You made this set?”

“Yeah.” He tasted the soup, nodded, then set the spoon in the sink.

“And the other furniture? You made all of it?”

“My great-uncle made the furniture in the bedrooms. I built the rocker and tables in the living room.”

She rubbed her hand over the back of a chair again, loving the feel of the wood. “Is this what you do for a living? Build furniture?”

“Mostly outdoor furniture. Swings, Adirondack chairs, outdoor rockers. The stuff that's sold in tourist towns like Branson and Eureka Springs and Mountain View.”

“You're very talented.”

“Thanks. The food's ready. I guess we should bring everyone in.”

He cooked and he built furniture. But he didn't make small talk, Lucy decided. Who was this guy?

It was a subdued group that gathered around the beautiful table a few minutes later. Bobby Ray had given Miss Annie his arm for the short walk to the table, but she looked so tired that Lucy worried about her. The storm still raged outside, making the lights flicker periodically, and she knew everyone was wondering when they could leave this place. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and there were places they all wanted to be for the holidays.

Banner wasn't by any means a jovial, put-everyone-at-ease type host. He sat in silence at the head of the table, eating his soup and corn bread without looking up much. Was it possible that he was shy? Or just not particularly friendly?

Joan and the children sat at one side of the table, opposite Lucy and the Carters. The kids had pulled the bar stools to the table, raising them high enough to easily reach their soup bowls and keeping them close to their mother.

They were quiet, well-behaved children, Lucy mused. Perhaps they took their behavioral cues from their mother, who seemed to take great pains not to call attention to herself. Was she simply shy-or someone who had been beaten down by circumstances until there was little spirit left in her?

It seemed that it was again up to Lucy to try to raise everyone's spirits. “Did you all get through to your families to let them know you're safe?” she asked the table at large.

She was answered with a silent round of nods.

Okay, new tactic. She smiled at Tyler. “How old are you, Tyler? I would guess around seven.”

“I'll be eight in February,” he replied.

A complete sentence. She was making progress. “So you're in second grade?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I'm in kindergarten,” Tricia supplied, not to be left out.

“Are you? Do you like it?” Lucy asked encouragingly.

Tricia nodded. “My teacher's nice. I like music time best.”

“Where do you live?” Lucy looked at Joan this time, hoping to draw her into the conversation.

“We're from Mayflower,” Joan murmured. “That's north of Little Rock…”

“I know where Mayflower is,” Lucy said with a smile. “I live in Conway, practically next door to you.”

“Mother and I have a little place outside of Jacksonville,” Pop supplied, patting his wife's hand. “We've lived there more than forty years.”

Lucy wondered about the wisdom of a man in his mid-eighties making a three-hour drive in an old pickup truck, especially in weather that had promised to be cold and rainy at best. What was his family thinking to let him make that trip?

Because that was really none of her business, Lucy spoke to Bobby Ray. “Do you live in Little Rock or was that a business stop?”

“I live there. I was hoping to make it home this evening. But my boss just told me on the phone that the weather guys are saying it could be day after tomorrow before the roads are passable.”

“Day after tomorrow?” Tyler's eyes widened in alarm. “But that's Christmas! We can't stay here until Christmas!”

“What about Santa Claus?” Tricia looked at her mother in dismay. “We told him we would be at Grandma's house. He's s'posed to come tomorrow.”

Lucy noted that Banner's face was showing new signs of strain in the form of deep lines around his stern mouth. Not only had his home been invaded by a group of strangers, but those strangers were all making it quite clear that they would rather be somewhere else. She couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him.

“Don't worry about Santa Claus,” Joan told her children. “Even if he can't come see you tomorrow night, he'll make a special trip as soon as we've settled somewhere.”

The children still looked crestfallen, and Lucy couldn't blame them. Now the general mood around the table was depressed again.

“Banner, this soup is delicious,” she said, determinedly cheerful. “You're an excellent cook.”

“Thanks.”

“Mother's a wonderful cook,” Pop said, trying to help Lucy with the conversation. “Barbecued chicken, pork chops, spare ribs. And her pies-best coconut cream pie in the whole world. Her chocolate pie's good, too.”

“Don't cook as much as I used to,” Miss Annie murmured, glancing at her gnarled hands. “I still like to cook fresh vegetables in the summertime, though.”

“We used to grow all our own vegetables,” Pop added. “Had a big ol' garden back behind the house. Can't do it much anymore, now that the arthritis has gotten so bad. Still put some tomato plants in every spring, though.”

Miss Annie gave him a sweet smile. “Pop loves his fresh sliced tomatoes.”

Lucy watched the exchange between the couple with a wistful envy. Sixty-two years of marriage, she thought. Children, grandchildren, companionship and memories.

She wanted that for herself. As her twenty-eighth birthday approached, she found herself thinking about it more and more. She was perfectly capable of supporting herself and taking care of herself, but she wanted the fairy tale. The husband and children who loved her and who she could adore in return. The happily-ever-after. The sixty-second wedding anniversary.

The only thing holding her back was the fact that she was having a great deal of difficulty finding anyone she actually wanted to marry.

“Does anyone want more soup?” Banner asked gruffly, drawing her attention back to him.

Gosh, he was gorgeous, she thought, sighing a little as she admired the way the overhead light gleamed in his thick, dark hair. But good looks alone weren't enough to put a guy on her prospect list, as she knew from several disastrous dates with very attractive-and completely unsuitable-men.

No one wanted more soup.

“Let me clean the kitchen,” Joan offered shyly, glancing at Banner and then quickly away. “You've been so generous to all of us. I'd like to help out.”

“I'll help,” Lucy offered.

“Let me help you back to the living room, Miss Annie,” Bobby Ray said, pushing away from the table.

“Actually, I think I'd like to lie down for a few minutes,” Miss Annie replied, her smile weary. “Would that be all right with you, Mr. Banner?”

“Just call me Banner, ma'am.” Lucy noted that he spoke to the old woman with a respectful warmth that was notably missing in his brief dealings with his other guests. “You're welcome to use my room for as long as you're here. There are plenty of other places where I can sleep.”

Miss Annie beamed at him. “Thank you. You're a very kind young man.”

Lucy was fascinated to see the faintest touch of red appear briefly on Banner's tanned cheeks. Were compliments that rare for him?

Tricia was growing tired, too, and stressed by the changes in her routines and holiday plans. She began to whine, and when her brother taunted her about it, a squabble began.

Lucy watched as deep lines appeared around Banner's mouth again. Apparently, he hadn't spent much time around children-and judging by his expression, he would have been content to leave it that way.

“Why don't you take care of the children,” Lucy suggested to Joan. “They're tired and unsettled. I'll clean up in here.”

The harried mother sighed and nodded. “I suppose that would be best.”

“There's a TV in the living room,” Banner said. “I have satellite. Maybe you can find something to entertain the kids.”

Nodding again, Joan ushered her children out of the room, leaving Lucy alone with Banner.

“I can take care of this,” Lucy assured Banner when he reached for a dirty bowl.

“I'd just as soon clean the kitchen as go back in there.”

She couldn't help smiling at his tone. “You must feel as though your home has been overrun.”

“A bit,” he agreed.

She wondered again if he ever smiled. She couldn't help imagining what a smile would do to his already spectacular face. For the sake of her peace of mind, it was probably just as well that he continued to glower.

“I'm sorry your peaceful evening was so rudely interrupted,” she said as she carried a stack of bowls to the sink.

“Couldn't be helped. Too dangerous out on the road, which is why none of you should have been out driving. Especially the Carters.”

“I suppose all of us were so anxious to get to our holiday destinations that we didn't pay enough attention to the weather forecasts-even though the guy I listened to got it all wrong,” she added in a grumble.

Without responding, Banner squirted dishwashing liquid into the warm water filling his deep sink. No dishwasher, Lucy noted as he reached for the first bowl. She supposed he didn't need one just for himself and Hulk.

She picked up a dish towel to dry the bowls after he washed and rinsed them. There wasn't a lot of room in front of the sink, so they stood nearly shoulder to shoulder-or rather, shoulder to forearm, since he was a good ten inches taller. Another reason he wasn't going on her prospect list, she reminded herself. When a woman was just under five-three on her tallest days, men six feet and over were simply too tall for a comfortable match.

Because his silence was making her nervous, she asked, “Do you have any special plans for Christmas, Banner? Or did the weather interfere with your travel, too?”

“I had no plans.”

“Oh. You don't celebrate Christmas?” Not everyone did, she reminded herself belatedly. She should have thought of that already.

But he shook his head. “I do observe Christmas-I just didn't have any plans this year.”

“You don't have a family?” Her admittedly overtender heart immediately twisted. How sad to be alone, especially during the holidays.

“I have family. I simply wasn't in the mood to travel this year.”

“None of them live close by?”

“No.” He put another bowl in her hands, seeming to take care not to touch her in the process.

Okay, maybe she was asking too many questions. Not everyone liked talking about themselves, though most of the men she had encountered lately seemed obsessed with the subject. Maybe he would rather hear about her, instead.

“I love Christmas. I always spend it with my favorite aunt and uncle in Springfield-my father's younger sister and her husband and their two sons. My father is an Army major stationed in Texas, and he'll fly in on Christmas day-weather permitting, of course.”

A hard wind blew against the window over the sink, and the lights flickered again, staying out a bit longer this time. Lucy sighed in relief when they came back on, though she figured it was just a matter of time before the power went out.

Since that thought made her even more nervous, she chattered on. “My mother died when I was almost thirteen. My father sent me to live with my aunt and uncle after that, so they're almost like parents to me.”

“Here.” He set the clean, wet stockpot in her hands. “This goes in the cabinet next to the stove.”

So maybe he wasn't interested in talking about her, either. “Do you think this ice storm will stop soon?” she asked, seizing on the weather as a last-ditch conversational gambit.

He dried his hands on a paper towel, studying her with a slightly quizzical expression. “You're not one to let a moment of silence slip by, are you?”

Something about his wording amused her. Totally unoffended, she chuckled. “I'm afraid not. I tend to talk a lot, anyway, but especially when I'm nervous.”

“You're nervous now?” That seemed to surprise him.

“Maybe a little.”

“Because of the storm?”

It seemed an innocuous enough excuse. “Okay.”

“You're safe here, you know. Even if the power goes out, I have plenty of firewood and a gas stove to cook on.”

She found his somewhat awkward attempt to reassure her rather touching. Darned if she wasn't starting to like him-at least a little-despite his curt manners. “I know we're safe. It's just a little…awkward.”

“Tell me about it.” He glanced toward the doorway as if he still wasn't particularly looking forward to joining the others.

Lucy glanced at her watch. It was only seven-thirty. What were they going to do for the rest of the evening?

Bobby Ray wandered through the kitchen door, pushing a meaty hand through his bushy hair. “Miss Annie is asleep,” he informed them. “I talked Pop into lying down, too. Poor old guy's wiped out, though he won't admit it. Stubborn old bird. Reminds me of my grandpa.”

“I had a great-uncle like that,” Banner said. “Lived on his own until he was eighty-two, when he died in his sleep of a heart attack. Never would accept any help or advice from anyone.”

It was the most Banner had volunteered about himself since they'd arrived. Lucy wondered exactly how much Banner had in common with the great-uncle he seemed to have admired so much.

“I threw some more wood on the fire,” Bobby Ray said. “Getting kind of low in the wood box. You want me to bring some more in?”

“I keep a good supply on the back porch, under cover.” Banner motioned toward the back door on the other side of the bar.

Bobby Ray nodded. “Good. We're probably going to need it. I just caught a local news report on the TV, and they said electricity's going out all over this part of the state. I imagine we'll be in the dark ourselves directly.”

Lucy shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

Banner looked at her in question.

“I'm not really crazy about being in the dark,” she admitted.

“Does it make you nervous?”

She smiled wryly. “Yes.”

Banner glanced at Bobby Ray. “At least we won't have to worry that it will get too quiet.”

It was another example of Banner's odd sense of humor-and once again he'd said it without even a hint of a smile.

“Very funny, Banner,” she muttered.

He gave her a look that might have held a gleam of amusement. And, darn it, she felt her toes start to curl in response to that hint of a smile.

Time to get control again. “Okay,” she said, “so what are we going to do with everybody? You have only two bedrooms, right?”

Banner nodded. “The Carters can have mine, and Joan and the kids can have the other. Bobby Ray and I will bunk in the living room and you can sleep on the couch in my office.”

“Your office?”

He jerked his head toward a closed door on the far side of the kitchen. “In there.”

She nodded. “That will work. What about-”

Someone pushed her from behind. She turned to find Banner's dog standing behind her, taking up most of the spare room in the kitchen. It was the first time she had seen the beast standing up, and he was nearly the size of a small horse. She hardly had to bend over to look straight into his lazy eyes.

“He needs to go out,” Banner said. “You're standing in his way.”

“Excuse me,” Lucy said to the dog, scooting to one side.

The dog made a grumbly sound that might have been a response, then ambled to the door, where he gave Banner a look over his shoulder. A gust of damp, icy air entered the room when Banner opened the door. The dog gazed dolefully out past the covered porch to the wet, ice-coated yard beyond. He gave a deep sigh, then walked out, his shaggy head already hunched in preparation for the elements.

Lucy couldn't help smiling at the mutt's behavior. “He's a very…interesting character.”

Banner gave her another one of those looks that wasn't quite a smile. “He's excited by all the company.”

“That's excited? How can you tell?”

“He's awake.”

She laughed. “I see.”

Lucy stood back and watched as Banner pulled a big towel out of a cabinet. He opened the back door, letting dog and cold air inside again. After toweling the mutt off, he gave him a bone-shaped dog treat from a box he kept on the counter near the door. With a low “woof” of thanks, the dog strolled out of the room.

Lucy grinned as she watched the long scraggly tail disappear through the doorway. She was beginning to like that dog a lot.

She was still reserving judgment about his owner.