It Must Have Been the Mistletoe(19)

“No, it’s not that I pity her. But she’s all alone. She doesn’t have anyone to share her life, to talk to her at night, to hold her hand when she’s sad. I wouldn’t want to be old by myself.”

“You’re alone now,” he said. “So am I.”

“Yes. But I assume we’ll find someone before we’re Ettie’s age.”

“She has a lot of friends. And she was in love, once, a long time ago. He went off to war and died on the beaches at Normandy. And she never forgot him.”

“That’s so sad,” Alison cupped her chin in her hand and looked at him. “Can you imagine feelings so strong they last for almost seventy years?”

“I guess I can,” he said. “Isn’t that what everyone wants to find? That perfect person to spend a lifetime with?”

“I suppose. But how many people actually do?”

“Not many,” he said. “That doesn’t stop us from looking.”

She went back to work, scribbling her music on staff paper as she hummed. Since he’d moved back to the mountain, Drew had felt occasional bouts of loneliness. But maybe he didn’t need a wife. Maybe a lover would be enough.

Alison seemed content here with him, at least in the short term. And maybe that was all he could expect from her. How difficult could it be? She lived in Johnson City, two hours’ drive from his clinic. That wasn’t far. They could spend the occasional weekend together. Even if she got that job in Texas, they could—

Drew stopped himself short. No. That kind of distance made things difficult. Especially in a relationship that was based on something as simple as no-strings sex. He’d have to accept that what they’d shared this weekend would be all they’d ever have.

He drained the pasta in the sink and poured it into an old ceramic bowl. The sauce was from a jar and enhanced by canned mushrooms and black olives. A bit of cheese on top added the final touch. He set the bowl on the table and then grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack on the counter.

“Dinner is served.”

“It smells wonderful,” Alison said. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now. All that hiking up and down the mountain.”

“How is your work going?” he asked as he poured some wine into an old glass tumbler.

“Good. I have my two favorite songs transcribed. I’m going to sing them at the recital, I think. They’re so pretty and no one has ever heard them before.” She took a sip of her wine. “Just think. If I hadn’t found that tape, Ettie’s songs might have been lost forever. I’m so glad she gave me permission to use them.”

“And you never would have come looking for her on the mountain.” Drew touched his wineglass to hers. “Here’s to happy coincidences.”

“I’m glad I came,” she said. “You know, if you’d like to come to the recital, you could bring Ettie. I’d love to introduce her and maybe she could give a little talk.”

“She won’t come,” Drew said, shaking his head. “She doesn’t leave the mountain anymore. She says when the Lord calls her name, she wants to be right here where she’s closer to heaven.”

She took a bite of her food. “You leave the mountain, though. You could come.”

He nodded. “I’d like to. Maybe I could take you out afterward?”

“There’s a reception. But after that.”

“And maybe, we could spend a little time doing this,” he said, leaning over the table to kiss her.

“Eating spaghetti?” she teased.

“No, kissing.” He pressed his lips to a spot beneath her ear. “And touching.” His fingers drifted down to toy with the buttons on her shirt. Drew undid one, then kissed her again. “And fooling around.”

“Is that a medical term? Fooling around?”

“I believe it’s called copulation,” he said.

Alison giggled. “That sounds like something you do in math class.”

“Not unless you’re looking to get expelled.”

She stood and set her wineglass on the table, then straddled his lap, her arms around his neck. “If you want to start things up with me, our dinner is going to get cold.”

Drew worked at the buttons of her blouse. When it was open to the waist, he pressed his lips to the spot between her breasts. “Spaghetti is always better warmed up,” he said.

With a low growl, he shoved back the chair, then stood, wrapping her legs around his waist, his hands supporting her backside. He carried her over to the bed and they tumbled down onto the faded quilt.

Laughing and teasing, they pulled at each other’s clothes until they were both naked. Though they’d only been together a short time, he’d learned to read her well. She liked to be touched softly, and his fingertips now traced a path over silken skin.