Gina Wilkins - Make-Believe Mistletoe

Tim's young face softened. “You know I love you, Brenda. This has nothing to do with my feelings for you, and I'm not going to let it put a rift between us.”

“I want you to be happy, Tim. And I don't want you to do anything you'll regret just to prove something to Dad.”

Tim put both hands on his sister's shoulders, looking down at her from his six-inch advantage in height. “I need you to trust me to know what's best for myself, Brenda. And I need you to support me in the choices I make. Just as I'll always support you in whatever you want to do.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging a bit in surrender. “All right. If this is really what you want, I won't nag you anymore about it. But I do hope you try to keep the lines of communication open with the family.”

“As long as they give me the freedom to make my own decisions, I can deal with the other baggage. I'm not closing the door on the family, I just need a little space right now. Okay?”

She nodded. “Will you promise to let me know if you need anything? You can always go back to school if you change your mind, you know. Promise you won't let pride stop you from acting if you decide you made a mistake.”

Tim gave her a reassuring smile. “I promise-even though I know I'm not making a mistake.”

Banner watched as they hugged.

Biting her lip, Brenda turned to Banner after Tim released her. “I'm sorry about snapping at you,” she said, her tone stiff. “I was upset.”

“Forget it.”

She drew a deep breath, her shoulders held with rather defensive dignity. “I promised Tim I wouldn't nag him anymore. I'll give you the same courtesy. If you want me to leave you alone, I will.”

“I don't want you to leave me alone,” he answered gruffly, shoving his hands awkwardly in his pockets. “You're my sister, too, damn it.”

She caught her breath, her eyes suddenly shimmering with a hint of tears. “I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

He realized too late what he had triggered with his imprudent comment. He braced his feet as Brenda threw herself at him and locked her arms around his waist in a fervent hug. Awkwardly he patted her back.

Lifting her head, she gave him a tremulous smile. “I know you would rather be nibbled by ducks than be hugged by your sister, but I couldn't help it. That was such a sweet thing to say.”

Grumbling something incoherent in lieu of thinking of a real response, he stepped back and pushed his hands into his pockets again. And then he said, “Are you hungry? Tim and I were just having breakfast.”

“I'd take some coffee.”

“Rick makes really good coffee,” Tim offered, waving an arm toward the kitchen. “He's a great cook, actually.”

Something in the young man's voice made Banner remember what Lucy had said about Tim having a touch of hero worship for his older brother. That possibility made him so uncomfortable that he frowned as he led them into the kitchen.

“Good Lord. What is that?” Brenda asked, staring in disbelief at the beast waiting patiently by the back door.

“That's Banner's dog, Hulk,” Tim replied as Banner crossed the room to let the dog outside.

“Oh. Well, he's, uh…” Brenda's voice faded as she was unable to come up with an appropriate adjective.

“Ugly,” Banner supplied in resignation. “But he's a good dog.”

“I'm sure he is.”

“Lucy said he's not really ugly, he's just making a fashion statement,” Tim said with a grin.

Brenda looked at him in curiosity. “Who's Lucy?”

“Rick's girlfriend. Or, at least, she would be if he'd make half an effort to keep her.”

Pouring a cup of coffee for Brenda, Banner gave Tim a warning look. “Don't start.”

“What's she like?” Brenda asked Tim, probably knowing better than to ask Banner.

“She's great. Funny and warm and bossy and cheerful. She has a doctorate in mathematics but she looks like a college student. She looks at Rick the way a chocoholic gazes at a hot-fudge sundae. The way an astronomer studies a newly discovered galaxy. The way an art lover stares at an original Van Gogh found hidden in some old lady's attic. The way…”

“That's enough, Tim,” Banner growled, feeling his cheeks warm.

“I get the picture,” Brenda assured them. “I'd like to meet her sometime.”

“That,” Tim said with a look of bravado, “is entirely up to Rick, I think.”

“Drink your coffee,” Banner ordered with a touch of desperation.

He didn't believe for a minute that Lucy had looked at him the way Tim had described it, of course. Nor did he accept Brenda's accusation that he was the one who had been preemptively rejecting everyone for the past few years, rather than the other way around.

But his siblings had certainly given him some things to think about.

Three weeks into the new year, Banner had settled back into his old routines. He rose early, had his breakfast, headed out to the workshop for a long day's hard work. He ate his meals alone in front of the TV, while his dog snored on the hearth rug. He went running with Polston a couple of times when the weather permitted, making it very clear beforehand that they weren't to talk about Lucy. Because Polston had his own secrets, that wasn't a problem.

Tim called a couple of times. He had found an apartment in Nashville and was working as a substitute high school history teacher until he found a permanent job that appealed to him. He sounded satisfied with his choices and eager to move on to new experiences. Banner believed his kid brother was going to end up just fine, no matter what he ultimately decided to do.

He wished he could say the same for himself.

He wasn't sleeping. No matter how hard he worked, nor how tired he was when he crawled into bed, he managed only a couple of hours of restless dozing a night before he was wide awake again, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about Lucy. He tried sleeping on the couch, but that didn't help, since he could still picture her sleeping there. Same with the couch in the office. Even spreading his sleeping bag in front of the fireplace held too many memories.

He hadn't missed Katrina this way, he thought with a wince as he almost ruined yet another white pine spindle by letting his attention wander away from his belt sander. How could he miss a woman he barely knew more than he had missed the one who had been his wife? And how much worse would it have been if he'd lost Lucy after becoming even more accustomed to having her in his life?

It was that last thought that made him even more convinced she had done them both a favor by walking out the way she had.

“I think it's time for plan B.”

Even though the woman on the other end of the telephone line couldn't see her, Lucy shook her head adamantly. “No. Not yet.”

“It's been more than a month. He's not going to call you.”

“He might.”

“I don't think so, Lucy. He's too guarded. Too shy.”

Lucy sighed. “Maybe he's not interested.”

“No way,” Joan said, sounding absolutely positive. “He was in love with you before Christmas Eve ended. He just needs some pushing.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Maybe I should call him. You know, thank him again for taking us in at Christmas. Ask him if he's heard from you. Casually mention that you would love to hear from him.”

“Too subtle. It's going to take something far more direct.”

“Such as…?”

“I'll probably have to go to him again. I'm thinking about hitting him over the head with a club and dragging him off by the hair.”

Joan laughed. “I don't think I'll try that with Bobby Ray-even though he certainly has enough hair to get a good hold on. But he's much too heavy for me to drag anywhere.”