Something Blue

Chapter 18

And then he kissed her.

Right on her lips.

He pressed his mouth to hers, his touch warm and dry and gentle with the fear of rejection.

Katherine had no idea what to do with a kiss. It was a faraway thing, an unknowable beauty. A whispering, teasing freedom, like the distant shores of some exotic land. She didn't have to know it to crave it.

She lay beneath her best friend while he pressed his lips to hers, her arms limp at her sides and her body going still with shock and awe and wonder. After a few eternal seconds he pulled back, the flush of cold on his cheeks spreading up to his ears and down his neck.

"Sorry," he mumbled, shoving away from her and swiping the back of his hand over his mouth. "Sorry, Katie."

She pushed upright, leaning back on her hands in spite of the inch of soft, watery snow, and studied him. "Why are you sorry?"

"You didn't want me to kiss you. I shouldn't have kissed you. Ma says--"

"Who says I didn't want it?" she demanded, clambering up onto her knees.

"Well, you didn't--"

"Is it because I'm a stupid little kid and I'd rather play stupid little kid games?"

His eyes widened in confusion and he shook his head. "What? No! I just--"

"Well I'm not!" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and tipping up her chin. "I think you should kiss me again!"

The memory dissolved with the familiar tug of Isobel's hand in her skirts. She looked down to find her daughter had vacated Gabe's lap and now stood at her side, one hand on her leg and the other clutched in the fabric of her own dress. Katherine looked around and saw the entire, modest party watching her with mixed expressions of patient worry.

All except Gabe, who stood beside his chair, one foot behind him as if he wished to back away even while his body fought to reach for her.

"Ma, are you okay?" Isobel asked, tugging at the fabric of her skirt one more time.

"Of course, sweetheart," she said, lifting a hand to brush her fingers over her daughter's cheek. She was pleased to see that her hand wasn't shaking in the slightest. She raised her gaze to Gabe's and smiled, letting the force of that memory fill her face. He was no longer a nervous boy with knobbly elbows and knees and hair that flopped over his eyes. Even so, she could see that familiar wary affection in the honeyed amber of his eyes when he spoke.

"I think I oughta--"

"I would like you to stay for presents, Mr. Townsend," she said, clasping Isobel's hand and rising to her feet. She tipped up her chin to meet the slow burn of his gaze. Jacob's memory threatened her with reprisal, but Gabe's drew her out and prodded her to challenge him. "We would like you to stay. And after presents, we would like you to have a piece of cake and a cup of coffee. Then you may leave."

His lips pinched together-- indecision, and his nostrils flared-- annoyance. His eyes narrowed-- disbelief, and his jaw clenched-- resignation. One shoulder lifted and then fell-- acceptance.

"Fine."

How had Katherine forgotten that, with him, she always won? All she had to do was enter the race, and whether that realization was liberating or terrifying, she really didn't know.

Together, the group moved to the sitting room and gathered to watch Isobel unwrap her array of presents. Katherine was torn between horror that her generous hosts had so spoiled her daughter, and delight that her generous hosts had so spoiled her daughter. She had always tried to make Isobel's birthday special, but Jacob didn't believe in raucous celebration or spending money on 'silly gifts.' This little pile of gift-wrapped bundles was, to Isobel, a mountain of priceless treasures.