© Copyright 2006 by More Than Novellas

Part I

Sarah
November 9, 06
baughmanks@sbcgobal.net

The band of the annual Christmas parade blared as Anita twirled her baton. She had acquired the skill in high school and still found the opportunity to use it at least once a year. Smiling in her red and green sparkling one-piece pantsuit, she started the turn onto Main Street.

At the end of the parade were tables with hot chocolate and cookies. Anita grabbed a cup of cocoa and turned to find her car, which she had left at the end of the parade route beforehand. The cold, late-November wind bit through her costume, in spite of her long underwear and thick socks underneath.

Elizabeth Delayne
November 10, 2006
lizdelayne@hotmail.com

She hit the wall of human strength and felt the liquid heat of chocolate spill over her hand. Even as she jerked back, she looked up and saw ... him.

"You're kind of hard to miss in that outfit you know. It lights up the entire block. Blinded me for a moment."

Coming from him, it wasn't a compliment. Andrew Boyd didn’t know cheery from ... well, anything. He wore black, as his trade mark color. Not always, but it dominated his wardrobe. He was kind of the town bad boy--in name only. He’d had a good mother, who raised him well. She didn't think he'd ever been in real trouble his entire life.

But he gave off airs as if he had.

“You okay?" he asked, handing her a napkin. There was a sneer in his voice.

"Fine."

"Burned?"

"Nothing serious," she tried to step passed him. "Excuse me."

"Maybe I should carry that baton you have. Back in the day it was considered a weapon. You’ve been dangerous with things like that before.”

She ignored him, but refrained from trying to go around him again. Instead she crossed her arms and glared at him. Her hand flexed around her baton. “I was seven and it was a rake.”

And he’d been nine, as irritating then as he was now. He’d ended up in the emergency room and she’d ended up faking leaves around the entire neighborhood as punishment.

“I was talking about those key stone cops in Britain … but now that you mention it,” he rubbed his head. “I think I still have a concussion.”

“You still are a lot of things.”

This time, she stepped around him … but that might have been because she’d held her baton out in front. She’d had enough of Boyd. Her entire life.

She spotted the line of floats coming in from the end of the parade, Santa Clause on top and sighed. The Christmas rush she’d felt throughout the day had been spoiled. It was one more thing to put on him.

Sarah
November 11, 06
baughmanks@sbcgobal.net

Andrew glared after Anita as she marched away. Why did he always goad her? He loved getting a reaction. When she moved into the house next door the summer before he started third grade, she never played outside with him and his friends. She was always so serious. Her father and mother had three other children, Anita being the eldest. She seemed to take it upon herself to be their helper. Always with one of the younger ones in tow, he often saw her outside that summer, weeding the garden, then raking the leaves in the fall. That was when he decided he wanted to see if she would do anything besides what she was told. He goaded her, teased her, anything he could think of to get a reaction. Then he picked on her little sister, Susie. That was when he got a swift smack to the noggin. Ever since, he riled her every chance he got.

In high school, he started to feel a small attraction to Anita. She was certainly a tenacious little thing, never letting his teasing get the best of her. But he knew she'd never take his suit seriously. So he backed off, left her alone. They each went to different colleges. She returned to their small town to teach elementary school. He returned to find himself. Spending two years in corporate America had drained him of all that felt human. So he got out and moved back home to his mother's. He had been living there for two months, helping her with repairs and other things that had been neglected recently.

Deciding to let Anita go -- for now -- he turned to find his mother. It was really too cold for her to be out with her cough, even if it was really nothing serious. Wishing he'd been kinder in their recent meeting, he shook his head and wondered if they would ever find common ground.

Elizabeth Delayne
November 10, 2006
lizdelayne@hotmail.com

Anita sat at her desk and smiled a little at the end of Joey's Christmas story. She picked up her purple pen.

"What imagination!" she wrote. "I love Mr. Elf Williams. What a fun character!"

She doodled a smiley face with a Santa cap, and set the paper aside. The funniest thing about the story was that Joey couldn't see naming his characters without last names. And he called them by their full names all the way through the story.

He had to sign his last name, he'd explained, why shouldn't he make them have to write their last names; though it had been him who'd written the names every single time.

She shook her head--and glanced over at the door.

"What are you doing here?"

Andrew pointed to the bright visitor's pass that was stuck to his sweater. "I have every right to be here."

"Come back for your education?"

He grinned, the smile fast and sharp. "Oh, for the days of elementary school. Recess, naps, play time."

Anita pushed to her feet. "The most fundamental concepts for life are learned in elementary school. Writing, reading, arithmetic."

"Oh, you were always so much better about that than I." He held up a hand. "I didn't mean it to sound like that. I didn't come up here to fight. Mom just wanted me to drop off some goodies for the Winter festival."

"Your mom always made the best cupcakes ... with the designs on top," she thought of his mother, how age had changed her. "it's a shame ..."

He nodded, "Yeah."

He looked around the classroom. It hadn't been one of his--he thought--but it looked about the same structure wise as everything on the hall. There were brightly colored bulletin boards, a reading section--complete with pillows and bean bags, and a wall of elementary level Christmas artwork.

"Anita--" he turned back, just as he heard voices coming down the hall.

"Those are mine," she said as she passed him. "They've been at music."

"But I came by, actually to ... ask you something."

She stepped out into the hall with a look. A teacher look. He had his nightmares to remind him.

How perfect for Anita. How perfect that it had always been part of her.

"Look, I wanted to ask--"

"What?"

"Just ..."

Megan
November 14, 2006
littleladyjoy@gmail.com

“Yes?” she turned, schooling her expression to one of only slight impatience.

As the seconds ticked slowly by, she wondered what could be weighing so heavily on Andrew’s mind. This otherwise egotistical and outspoken man with always a quip upon his tongue didn’t, for once, have the ability to gather even a single word to say to her.

“Well,” Anita filled in sarcastically, “thanks for the scintillating conversation, but I have students now. If you’ll excuse me?”

Oh why did I let him get to me again!? Lord, you know how much I’ve put up with from Andrew over the years, but that’s still not an excuse. I will no longer stoop to his level.

Andrew remained still. She expects the worst from me. Of course. Because that’s exactly what she usually gets. I’ve been a fool. Did I really think that suddenly befriending her would erase my past actions? Well, there’s only one way to find out. I’m getting this done here and now.

Andrew stepped forward just as Anita whipped around to face him again.

“Ooff!” Andrew reached instinctively for his chin.

“Oh!” Anita clamped one hand over her forehead and reached to steady herself with the other – grasping a handful of his shirt in the process. She let go instantly as though it burned her.

Andrew grasped her upper arms to steady them both and found himself without a thing to say. Again!

“I’m sorry,” Anita began rigidly. “I shouldn’t have been so terse with you.” She rushed, looking anywhere but into Andrew’s face.

“No, please. Don’t apologize; I’m the one needing to ask forgiveness. Please let me make it up to you. I treated you horribly for years. Come with me to the Christmas concert in the park on Friday.” Andrew spilled his demands as quickly as he could, afraid that she would somehow get free from his hold and bolt, his chances forever gone.

Now Anita was the silent one. Mouth slightly agape, brows raised and eyes like deep, wide pools of clover. She turned her head slowly to the side, narrowing her eyes.

“Are you kidding me?” She asked quietly, suspiciously.

Andrew took a deep breath as eight and nine year olds began filtering into the room around them. This is my last chance.

“I’m fumbling all over myself, Anita. I’m serious.” Andrew begged her to understand. “I was wrong to treat you the way I have. I’m sorry for taunting you all these years. Please believe me. I want to make it up to you, -”

“You can’t.” Anita replied quietly.

“What?” Andrew dropped his hands, dejected and surprised.

“You can’t make it up to me. But,” she drew out the one word and paused, wondering if she was making a mistake. Did she dare let her guard down? She took a step in retreat. “I accept your apology. There is nothing that you, or anyone, can do to ‘make up for’ the past though. Let’s just forgive and forget. You get on with your life and I’ll get on with mine.” She nodded decisively.

“No.” Alex dropped his gaze to the floor and replied quietly.

“Excuse me?” She leaned forward.

“No.” He stared boldly into her eyes once again. “I can’t ‘get on with my life’, as you so aptly put it. Please just go to the concert with me. Not because of all that’s behind us, just…because. I’m asking you as a friend. At least, I hope that we can be friends.”

“One,” She began listing her objections as the reality and absurdity of the situation hit her. “It seemed to me that you were telling me, not asking me, to go to the concert. And two, what makes you think we can be friends? I forgive you, okay? Let’s just let it go at that.”

Elizabeth Delayne
December 2, 2006
lizdelayne@hotmail.com

As children filed in, but it was Anita he watched, how she smiled at them, bent down to hear their comments, rested a gentle hand on their shoulder while they were speaking.

And then he saw Annie, and Annie saw him. His capricious niece bounded past Anita and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. “Uncle Alex! What are you doing here?”

“Running some errands for your Gran.”

At the door, Anita had watched as Annie threw her arms around Alex. She blinked, then remembered it was his sister’s little girl, so their names weren’t the same. She’d known, of course. It was nearly possible to know everyone and about everyone in a small town like theirs. The Annie grinned adoringly up at him while he smiled down and talked to her in a way that turned Anita’s heart over painfully.

Then he looked up with that charming Bad Boy Boyd look that girls—or other girls in town adored.

Other girls Anita reminded herself as Annie skipped on to her seat.

“Anita—“

She looked back at him, drawn by the tone, somewhat perplexed ... somewhat undefineable. And for a second, found herself uncertain.

Sarah
November 16, 06
baughmanks@sbcgobal.net

Annie sat at her desk in the second row. She saw Miss Miller take a deep breath even as her pretty face grew all pink. Looking at Uncle Andy, she saw that he was still staring at Miss Miller. Annie raised her hand.

"Yes, Annie?" Miss Miller said.

"Are you and my Uncle Andy going to get married?"

At the look on Miss Miller's face, Annie felt her young heart drop to her knees, sort of like when she broke Mommy's favorite vase. It had been a wedding gift from Nana, who was her Mommy and Uncle Andy's mommy. She didn't mean to do anything wrong.

Annie knew that Uncle Andy didn't stare at girls. She thought that he looked like he wanted to hug Miss Miller. When Daddy's brother looked at Sue that way, they got married awhile later. What was so upsetting about her question?

Megan
November 22, 2006
littleladyjoy@gmail.com

“I think we should get back to our lessons and we can talk more about this later.” Anita replied smoothly.

Andrew took that hint and began walking toward the door. Suddenly he turned around and asked in a voice meant for every child in the room to hear, “Wouldn’t it be fun to go to the concert in the Park this Friday Miss Miller?” He winked at Annie.

“Oh yes Miss Miller, that would be such fun!” Annie agreed. Anything that Uncle Andy did was fun in her mind.

“Well. Be that as it may,” Anita began.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like music, Miss Miller!” Andrew exclaimed, grasping his heart in mock dismay. Anita’s face began to grow red once again as she drew a long breath.

“No, Miss Miller loves music, don’t you?” Annie insisted, a chorus of giggles resounding about the room.

“Yes, well. You see…” Anita tried again to resume control of the circus that had overcome her classroom.

“Yes? Great! I’ll pick you up at 6.” Andrew grinned. “You won’t be sorry!” he called as he closed the classroom door behind him.

“I already am.” Anita murmured to herself.

* * *

Elizabeth Delayne
November 28, 2006
lizdelayne@hotmail.com

Anita stood in front of the living room mirror with her hands held to her cheeks.

“You look flushed.”

She turned around and looked at her roommate. “I just … I’ve just been running around.”

Leann grinned, tongue in cheek as she flopped down on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn. “You have a date with Bad Boy Boyd.”

“It’s not a date.”

“You’re going out. To dinner. He asked you.”

Anita groaned and held her hands up to cover her eyes even as she shook her head. She was nervous. She’d changed her shirt four times.

No … it wasn’t nerves. It couldn’t be nerves. She’d just wanted to give him the right impression. Or the correct … no. She’d needed the confidence.

Why did she need the confidence? She wasn’t nervous.

“You could have told him no, you know.”

“In front of my class?” Anita asked as she wearily sat down in the chair across from Leann. “In front of his niece? The girl idolizes him.”

“Would it really have hurt her to see you kick him out of your classroom? She would have probably talked to him about it. Which would have made him squirm. Later. Of course, that means you wouldn’t have been there to watch.”

“She asked if he was going to marry me.”

Leann laughed. “You should have said yes. Then he would have bolted out the door without you having to agree to go out with him. You know Boyd. He hasn’t let a girl close. Strings them along, like a kid’s pull toy.”

Strings them along … she looked down at her shirt. She’d changed it four times.

“I wonder what made him come back.”

“What?”

“To town. He had this amazing job, he’d been written up in that magazine.”

“His mother’s sick,” Anita murmured, wringing her hands.

“So he quits his job, moves back here? To the middle of no where? He could have moved her there.”

The door bell rang and Anita stood slowly to her feet. He was Bad Boy Boyd and she’d changed her shirt four times.

“Good luck.”

Anita reached for her purse. She wasn’t nervous. She couldn’t be nervous.

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