Our 30th (and possibly last) Christmas Flash Fiction is so sweetly romantic, you just might get diabetes from reading it! Don't blame me, though. Blame the writer, Lisa Tapp! Do read on and please leave a comment...
by
Lisa Tapp
“She’s lost
all her good sense.”
Felice Day, the she in question, held her tongue and her place in the gathering
crowd before Waldon’s large display window. How naïve was it to expect the news
wouldn’t be all over town in less than twenty-four hours?
She knew the speaker behind her.
Seventy-year-old Corrine’s blue-rinsed hair announced her boldness before she
ever spoke a word. Meek by comparison, silver-haired Aileen and Clara would be
nodding agreement in unison.
The curtain drew back, but instead of Walter
Waldon, his son Kurt stepped onto the snowy-white cotton covering the floor of
the display.
Funny, Kurt never mentioned he’d do the
decorating.
For one brief second Kurt’s golden-eyed gaze
landed on her. Felice couldn’t help but return his lopsided smile.
She’d known him forever; they’d both grown up
in this small town. But since school, he’d traveled the world. They’d only
become reacquainted when he joined the church choir last month. Kurt was playing
the trumpet for the Christmas production.
Felice had repeatedly asked herself that very
question since leaving the restaurant last night. She and Steven had dated off
and on for the past twelve months. Yet his proposal had been as unforeseen as
her response.
Through the store window, Felice’s gaze was
drawn to Kurt. She held her breath as his long fingers slid over the buttons of
his cardigan. Few guys could pull off wearing a cardigan, but on Kurt’s tall,
lanky frame, it worked. His chestnut hair, a little long, a little unruly,
curled over the rolled collar in a way that shouted bohemian sexy.
When he removed that sweater, every female took
notice. His sleeves, folded to his elbows, revealed long, well-toned forearms.
“It’s not
like she has other options.” The other two ladies had at least
attempted to whisper. Clara didn’t bother.
Felice blew out a short breath. Options. Wasn’t
staying single an option? It wasn’t the warmest or coziest choice, but last
night, sitting in the cross-hairs of Steven’s expectant gaze, it felt like her
best choice.
In the right corner, Kurt completed the
Nativity Scene with the soft glow of a golden backlight. The families around
her gasped with delight. It was beautiful, just as she knew it would be.
Kurt’s gaze sought hers and she gave him a tiny
nod. Beside her, a little girl sitting on her father’s shoulders clapped.
Felice had made that suggestion during one of
the choir’s after-practice hot chocolate runs.
He had been listening.
“She
crushed that boy’s heart.” Aileen broke tradition and spoke up.
Suffocating heat bloomed over Felice’s cheeks.
A quick glance on both sides, however, showed that everyone else remained
focused on Waldon’s display. And Kurt.
Steven’s feelings had been hurt. Their night ended in terse words and a final
good-bye. But honestly, they’d seen little of each other since the death of her
beloved grandmother, two months ago. How could she have known?
Steven was staid and settled, his life planned
out. He planned to live in exactly one house, Dottie’s, and have precisely two
children.
And she? She needed more. She needed adventure.
In the left corner of the display, the tree
stood tall and elegant. Waldon’s Christmas tree was always the largest in any
downtown display. Many families had made it a tradition to watch the
decorating. Whatever hung on the Waldon tree that year would grace the homes in
town.
Kurt reached into the ornament bag and pulled
out bowling ball-sized purple ornaments. An antique glaze softened the color,
giving them an old-European look. Soft, enchanting. Unlike anything Waldon’s
had ever sold. They were too big for home use, but perfect for the display.
Next Kurt pulled out more traditional ornaments
in whites, silvers and crystals. The crowd murmured approval. Felice stood
mesmerized.
The romance of it called to her. Kurt, weaving
back and forth, drew her. His eyes, meeting hers over and over, dared her to
look closer.
“I wonder
what Dottie would say to all this?”
Corrine’s mention of Felice’s grandmother
intensified the liquid warmth swimming through her veins. She knew exactly what
the woman who had raised her would say. Grandma Dottie would drop a kiss on
Felice’s head, hug her tight, and whisper her favorite advice. “Life can be
unexpected, and unexpectedly perfect.”
Dottie’s friends no longer mattered. The thick
crowd pressing close melted away. She, the tree, and Kurt were all that
existed.
This time there was no mistaking Kurt’s glance.
He held her gaze for one long, heart-pounding second. Dangling from his hand
was an ornament shaped like the country of Italy. This he hung in the heart of
the tree.
Felice couldn’t speak, couldn’t blink.
The only thing left was the angel. The prize of
each season. Waldon’s would sell out of replicas within hours.
Kurt deliberately rummaged through the bag, his
back to his audience. Walter stepped into the display. His bushy brows drew
together; a frown marred his face as he saw his son’s choice.
Kurt spoke quietly to his father. Slowly
Walter’s gaze lifted to the window. To Felice.
With the angel carefully concealed, Kurt
climbed the ladder.
As per tradition, a reverent hush settled over
the crowd.
Kurt glanced over his shoulder and found her.
Eyes wide, Felice watched, waited.
A tentative smile crossed Kurt’s face before he
turned and placed a singing angel atop the tree. The crowd cheered, then
abruptly fell silent as Kurt lifted his hands again.
Beside the singing angel, Kurt hung a
trumpeting angel.
A roar rushed around Felice. Children leapt and
danced; adults nodded.
Kurt descended and walked forward, his gaze
never leaving Felice. Thick glass separated them, but his eyes said everything.
His brows raised—Will you?
A strong breeze buffeted her. This—he—was totally unexpected. Did she dare?
Felice blinked back tears. Her quivering lips
stretched into a huge smile.
Yes. Yes, I
will.
****
Lisa lives in Louisville, Kentucky with her dog, Pooka. A nurse by
day, she’s been dabbling in writing for years. This is her first attempt at
flash fiction.
This made me smile. Especially since we finally decorated our tree last night and each ornament has its own story. I can imagine Felice and Kurt in years to come with a singing angel and a trumpeting angel on their tree :)
ReplyDeleteI loved your story. I read and write romance, this was really good and very well written.
ReplyDeleteMerry Christmas.
Hey Lisa :) I liked this story and am glad Felice and Kurt found each other after all those years. Merry Christmas to you and yours and a safe and happy new year as well!
ReplyDeleteThanks for your support. Merry Christmas, and the Best of New Years to you.
ReplyDeleteLovely story! Well-written and sweet. Love reading a Christmas story at Christmas. Merry Christmas!!
ReplyDeleteLovely story, Lisa! :-)
ReplyDeleteHow romantic! Thanks Lisa.
ReplyDelete