Page 45 of I’ll Be Home for Christmas

“You look lovely!” Aunt Cam beamed up at her from the bottom of the stairs.

“Is it too much, though?” Fred smoothed her box-pleat palazzo pants down with her hands and then pulled at the white Bardot top she’d tucked into them. “Do I look like I’m dressed for work?”

“Only if you’re trying to seduce the boss,” said Aunt Aggie, sucking a honey-colored drink through a metal straw, the wizard sleeve on her kimono slipping up her arm to reveal her wrist splint.

“Why are you getting yourself in a pickle? It’s only Ryan,” Aunt Cam said, twizzling the tassel tie on her cape.

“I know that.” She hadn’t divulged the recent complexities of her friendship with Ryan to her family. “I just thought, since it’s nearly Christmas, I’d dress up a bit, in honor of the season.”

Her aunts shared a looked as they sucked on their straws.

“Here we are,” said Bella, coming up behind her. “Lift your hair up.”

Fred lifted her long hair, and her mum put the necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp at the back.

“Lovely,” said Bella, reaching her arms around her daughter and kissing her cheek. “My mum’s locket, passed down to me and now to you.”

Fred was touched; she placed her palm flat over the locket that now lay against her chest. She remembered sitting at her mum’s dressing table while Bella did her hair when she was a girl, holding up the chain and watching the shiny locket twirl.

She used to think the sparkles that came off it in the light were signs that her grandma was with them.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. What’s this in aid of? ”

“Oh, nothing. I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while, and now seemed as good a time as any.

It was always meant to be passed on when the time was right.

There is a lot of love in this locket, maybe it will bring you luck.

” Bella’s eyes glinted as she rested her chin on Fred’s shoulder, their cheeks touching.

The hall mirror reflected the two women, one older, one younger, but so obviously cut from the same cloth.

“I love it,” said Fred.

Bella sighed, still smiling. “My goodness, she would be so proud of you.”

Fred felt a lump in her throat. She ran her fingers over the floral engravings of the locket.

Bella rarely spoke about her mother. She guessed she couldn’t think about her without recalling her father, too, and she knew her mum tried hard never to give him space in their universe, as though his wickedness could somehow reach in and infect them if summoned.

What she knew of her was that she had been most beloved, and too kind for this cruel world.

Fred hoped some of her grandma’s goodness would rub off on her.

Her mum gave her a final squeeze and kissed her cheek, then left her to finish getting ready.

Fred leaned closer to the mirror and applied more lip balm.

Her nerves were threatening to overwhelm her.

The last time she’d kissed Ryan Frost he had recoiled in horror, and she really didn’t want a repeat performance.

And there would be kissing, she knew there would.

She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

She didn’t want much; only to undo the past and be the best kisser Ryan had ever had.

Ryan arrived, and the sound of his voice made her breath catch.

Whenever she’d imagined this moment, he was always waiting at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her admiringly as she made her descent.

In reality, her knees forgot how to bend, and she hobbled stiffly down, gripping hold of the banister like a walking peg doll, while Ryan frowned up at her, pulling on the neck of his shirt as though it was strangling him, a sheen of sweat visible on his forehead.

Her family had thankfully removed themselves to the kitchen.

“Hi,” she said when she reached him. They were standing very close to one another. He had been liberal with the aftershave, but she could still smell roasted coffee beneath it.

“Did you hurt your legs?” Ryan asked.

“No. Did you run here?” she asked, looking up at his forehead.

He grinned. “Nervous?”

“Bricking it. You?”

“Haven’t been this scared since I took my driving test. Shall we?” he asked.

“Yes, let’s.”

Ryan helped her into her winter coat—which somewhat spoiled her outfit—and pulled open the front door, gesturing that she should go first.

“By the way, where are we actually going?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise,” he replied.

It had begun to snow again half-heartedly but the wind was biting, and it sharpened the snowflakes so that they scratched at her cheeks. She was glad for a sensation other than the butterflies in her stomach. Ryan opened the passenger door for her.

She glanced inside and her heart gave a yip. “You cleaned,” she said, smiling.

He shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “I figured I’d make an effort.”

She was about to get in when she suddenly stopped.

“What is it?” he asked.

She stood for a moment, rocking back on her heels while she deliberated, and then she reached up on her tiptoes, resting her hands against his chest, and gently pressed her lips to his.

She pulled away just a little, checking his reaction, and this time he didn’t recoil.

He smiled as he lifted his hands to gently cup her face and kissed her back.

Stars exploded behind her eyes. She could feel every part of her body come alive, the atoms that made her dancing and whirling in pinpricks of perfect light.

She moved her hands and coiled her arms around him, pulling him closer to her and melting against him.

He responded in kind, dropping his hands from her face and snaking his arms under her coat and up her back, firm hands splayed out against her spine and then closed around fistfuls of her top; the heat of him through the flimsy material felt so delicious she let out a moan of pleasure that made his kisses come harder.

“Fred”—her name was a graveled whisper on his breath—“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since Krampus Night.”

I’ve been wanting to kiss you since forever , she thought. She grazed her nails through his hair and down the nape of his neck, and this time it was Ryan who groaned with desire.

“What you do to me…” he breathed.

His words were like tongues of fire, and she gripped him tighter, pressing herself against him, two decades of feelings finally allowed to rip free and be sated.

The sound of a cat yowling and the ferocious rustling of plants broke through their haze of passion, and when a familiar “ I’m the happiest Christmas tree, ho-ho-ho, hee-hee-hee, look how pretty they dressed me, oh lucky, lucky me ” started up, Ryan smiled against her mouth and said, “Please tell me that’s not one of your aunts singing. ”

Fred sniggered. “That bloody tree. I’m going to put it in the Aga.” They were still wrapped around each other, as though bracing for a storm. “We should probably set off now.”

“Now that we’ve got the first kiss out of the way, you mean. You always were impatient,” Ryan said, his eyes twinkling.

“I was nervous, and I didn’t want to not be fully present during our date because I was worrying about after.”

He kissed her forehead, and she could feel the vibrations of his chuckle rumble through his chest. “Are your nerves satisfied now?”

“Very. Thank you. Let our evening commence.”

At the bottom of the drive, Ryan turned the car right and they headed away from the town and down toward the coast, pulling up near the edge of the golf course to park.

“We’re not burying another time capsule, are we?” Fred asked. She had a feeling her carefully put together outfit was going to be wasted on wherever he was leading her. There were no restaurants down here and the food shacks closed at four in the winter months.

“Not this evening. But I wouldn’t rule it out for the future.” He grinned at her and leaned in to steal another kiss, less urgent than before but still lingering enough to make her thighs go tingly. Then he pulled on his knitted beanie with head torch attachment, and changed into Wellington boots.

“You’d better pop these on,” he said, handing her a pair of smaller boots.

“So, where are we going?” she asked, replacing her nice boots with Wellies.

“You’ll see.” Ryan snapped on the torch, and held out his hand for her to take.

They followed the beam of light along a rough-hewn path that cut through the golf course until they reached the beach.

The sea was calm, the silver moon hung low on the horizon, its pale reflection rippling on the surface of the water.

The snow still fell in fits and starts, and Fred was glad she had chosen her practical hooded coat.

They tramped downward to the shore over loose pebbled ridges formed by the relentless pull-and-push embrace of the ocean during high tide, their boots sinking and sliding, the sandpaper scratch of stone on stone like the rasping breaths of a kraken.

Roosting seabirds shouted at them from their nooks burrowed into the cliffs.

There was a dark lump ahead, and when Ryan’s head torch picked it out she saw it was a small fishing boat bobbing at the edge of the shore, below a low arching cliff.

“Is that Benj’s boat?” she asked.

“It is.”

“Are we fishing?”

“No.”

“Does Benj know you’re stealing his boat?”

He laughed. “He has given his blessing. He’s out on the trawler tonight, so he let me borrow this one.”

When Ryan chivalrously lifted her onto the rope ladder and she boarded the vessel, she found the deck had been cleared of the nets, lobster pots and coils of rope that would usually cover it and was almost free of the enduring scent of eau de raw haddock.

Instead, there was a rich aroma of braising onions and wine emanating from the small cabin.

“Wow,” she said, turning in a circle on the small deck. “What did you do with all the equipment?”

“It’s in one of the sheds round at the marina. I’m under strict instructions to have it all back together by midnight.”