Christmas on 4th Street (Fool's Gold #12.5)

“My skinny ass and I will be there this afternoon,” Noelle said with a laugh.

“Nativity crisis,” Melissa murmured as she hurried by with two wreaths in her hands.

Noelle turned and saw a middle-aged female tourist wiping away tears.

“Gotta go,” she told Isabel. “I’ll be by later.”

She hung up, then hurried over to the customer.

“Can I help you?” she asked, careful to keep her voice gentle.

The woman looked at her. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly. It’s just these ridiculous gourds you have. Who would make a gourd nativity? Only it reminds me of when I was a little girl and I spent Christmas with my great-grandmother because my mom was having my little brother. I didn’t know Nana very well. To be honest, she frightened me. She was so stern and she had a strange accent. All very daunting to a four-year-old. But I learned she was sweet and funny and she had a nativity of old dried apples. Something her grandmother had made. It was unusual, but also beautiful and this reminds me of that.”

More tears flowed.

“I have to have this,” the woman said.

“You’re exactly who it’s been waiting for,” Noelle told her with a smile.

* * *

Gabriel was clear on his actions. He’d been avoiding Noelle. He’d shown up for work, but he had nothing to do with her beyond polite work-related conversation. It was as if they were strangers who didn’t like each other very much.

He’d expected her to glower at him. Or fire him. Something. But she’d thanked him for what he’d done and then went about her business with a friendly smile for everyone—even him. Even now, as she ushered a sobbing customer to the cash register, that ridiculous gourd nativity in her hands, she gave him a quick grin.

What he and his family had done for her window display didn’t make up for his bad manners after a night of incredible love-making. He felt like the Grinch after stealing all the presents. The Whos down in Whoville really didn’t need the trappings of Christmas to celebrate the season. They were happy anyway, and so was she.

He didn’t get it. Why wasn’t she pissed? Or demanding an explanation? They’d slept together. They’d been physically and emotionally intimate and then he’d turned his back on her without bothering to tell her why. Didn’t that make her want to beat the crap out of him?

Either she was the best actress ever or she genuinely wasn’t bothered. He suspected the latter had to be true, which only bugged him more.

Shortly after five, when they were wrapping up for the day, he followed her into the back room and closed the door behind them.

She looked at him. “What’s up?” she asked.

“You’re not mad.”

“Should I be?”

“Yes. You should be furious. We had sex at the cabin and then I disappeared. Emotionally if not physically. I couldn’t deal with you.”

“But you took care of my Christmas window.”

“That has nothing to do with sex.”

“Good to know. Okay—you disappeared. Do you know why?”

He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, then pulled them back out. The space was too small, he thought grimly as he tried to pace, only to find himself trapped by boxes and the small desk she used.

“It was more than I could handle,” he admitted, facing her. “You, us, the cats. I can’t do what you want. Be what you need. There’s too much in my head. I’m going back.”

“To the army?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I guess I should.”

“Do you want to?”

A question for which he didn’t have an answer. “I make a difference there,” he said at last. “I need to keep making a difference. Sometimes there are so many of them,” he added, thinking of the dream he would never tell her about.

She studied him for a long time, then nodded slowly. “You think I can’t handle it. Whatever you have going on. You think I’m not strong enough.”

“Look, you’re here in this world. Even if I could get past believing I could lose everything I care about in a second, even if I was willing to take the risk, I can’t. Look at this place. It’s Fool’s Gold. They have elephants dressed as Santa in their parades. I think the world I know would make you a different person.”

She stared into his eyes. He had no idea what she was thinking, so he didn’t bother trying to figure it out. Instead, he let his gaze roam her face, taking in the sweet shape of her mouth and how her blond hair swayed with every movement.

“Let me see if I have this straight,” she said. “You got too close, too fast. Because of my sparkling personality and the great sex, you couldn’t handle it, so you ran. Emotionally, if not physically. Now you feel guilty, but if you apologize too clearly, I might expect more than you can give. You’re also worried I’m not tough enough to handle whatever you think you have going on. Is that about right?”

While the concepts matched, he didn’t like how she’d characterized him. “I wouldn’t have put it...”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes or no?”