The Traditional Valenti Christmas (UC-K/I,TEEN) [COMPLETE]

[Midwest Max]

Winner Round 13




Title: The Traditional Valenti Christmas
Author: Karen
Disclaimer: The characters of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB, and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.
Pairings/Couples/Category: UC – Kyle and Isabel
Rating: TEEN
Summary: Takes place during S2. Kyle is used to a very laid-back Christmas. Isabel is used to striving for the perfect Christmas. Can these two very different people learn to have a merry Christmas together?
Author’s Notes: Pure fluff. Won’t be a long fic.


Part One

“Kyle, what do you think of this one?” Pause. “Kyle, are you even paying attention to me?”

Kyle Valenti lifted his head from the Auto Trader magazine he’d picked up at the door of the store. No, he hadn’t heard a word Tess Harding had been saying – he was too involved in the ad for the ’66 Mustang on page 13 of the buyer’s guide. Someone was willing to give it up for $1,500 – that was either a great deal or there was something horribly wrong with the little car.

Tess was holding up a blue velour housecoat, her free hand on her hip, her head cocked to one side. For a moment, Kyle was lost in the depths of her unearthly blue eyes.

“What?” he asked.

Tess sighed and gave the hanger a jiggle. “The robe, Kyle. Do you think your dad would like it?”

Kyle’s eyebrows drew together. “Dad has a housecoat, Tess.” With that, he returned to the Mustang. White leather interior, white exterior, rag top, 8 cylinders of pure fun.

“I mean as a Christmas gift,” Tess persisted.

“We don’t usually exchange gifts,” Kyle replied without looking up. He read through the car ad one more time, then realized the atmosphere had gotten a little frosty all of a sudden. Lifting his eyes from the page, he looked at his shopping partner cautiously.

Kyle had expected to see anger or irritation on Tess’s face. But instead he saw disappointment and maybe a little something else – sadness?

“Do you do anything for Christmas?” she asked, still holding the robe.

“Sure. We watch football. We do dinner.”

“How? I haven’t seen anything coming into the house for that.”

“We usually go out.” For some reason, he didn’t have the heart to tell her that “out” wasn’t “over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s house” but rather “around the corner and through downtown to the CrashDown Café.” Not that he found anything wrong with that – it’s what he and the sheriff did every year. It was a tradition. It was just that Tess seemed to want to put a little more effort into things and eating from a plate with an alien stamped on the background seemed less Currier and Ives than what she was looking for.

“Out,” she repeated, to which Kyle nodded silently. Apparently deciding to let that slide, she turned her attention back to the robe. “I like it.”

Kyle’s eyes shifted to the garment. “Dad has one,” he reiterated.

“Yes, but have you seen it?” Tess sounded like she was barely containing the urge to laugh.

“Yeah,” Kyle answered. “It’s got cowboy stuff on it – so?” Was he supposed to find something wrong with that? A lot of clothing in that part of the country had a horse theme; if he looked, he was sure he could find some of his old western shirts tucked in his closet somewhere.

She blinked at him once, twice, then heaved a sigh as she tucked the robe under her arm. “I’m going to get it anyway. Then if he doesn’t like it, he can return it.”

Panic flared through Kyle’s body as he watched Tess walk away, pausing every now and then to check out the bargain racks. Was she seriously buying his father a gift? Did this mean she was going to buy him a gift? Did she expect gifts in return? As he’d stated earlier, the Valentis didn’t do the gift thing. Was it her right to start turning tradition on its head?

After all, Kyle and Jim were comfortable in their ways. They liked sitting around in their underwear on Christmas day, watching the football games. They enjoyed throwing on whatever clothes they could find and going to the CrashDown for a cheap, hot, and usually tasty meal. There were people there, a surrogate family of sorts, people who would miss the sheriff and his son if they were to suddenly miss Christmas dinner.

And best of all, the Traditional Valenti Christmas never included the burden of having to shop for gifts. Sure, occasionally father and son would get a shared present – a new TV, a stereo, maybe an X-box – but those things were shopped for as a team, not in a sneaky, Secret-Santa kind of way.

The only reason Kyle was in the store in the first place was because he needed new socks – and the only reason he was even aware of that fact was because he could no longer find two that matched. He’d had no intention whatsoever upon entering that he would be buying Christmas presents.

“Tess, wait,” Kyle called, jogging after his shopping partner, who by now was a mile ahead of him.

She paused long enough to check out a display of men’s boxer shorts, allowing Kyle to catch up with her.

“Can we negotiate?” he asked, hoping he’d kept the desperation out of his tone.

“Negotiate?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “What are we negotiating about?” She picked up a package of boxer briefs, held them in Kyle’s direction as if she was contemplating how he would look in them.

He quickly grabbed the package and tossed it back onto the table. “The gifts. That’s what we’re negotiating over.”

Tess gave a laugh. “You want to negotiate over Christmas presents?”

Kyle shifted his weight uneasily. “It’s just – I think you’ll embarrass Dad if you get him anything.”

“Why?”

“Because, ya know, what if he doesn’t get you anything?”

At that, Tess shrugged her slim shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. I feel like buying gifts, so I’m going to. If the sheriff does or doesn’t, it’s cool.” With that, she pointed to a far wall. “Your socks are over there.”

“But don’t you think it might matter to him?” Kyle attempted again.

“I don’t think so,” she said casually and moved away from him.

Kyle sighed, frowned, pouted for a few seconds. Then he felt a little light of hope inside – she said it didn’t matter if no one bought her gifts. Maybe he wasn’t expected to reciprocate. After all, he was a Buddhist now – did Buddhists exchange Christmas gifts? He doubted it.

Stepping a little lighter, he claimed a new package of white tube socks, then stuck his nose in Auto Trader as he waited for Tess to retrieve him. Which she eventually did.

Then the waiting in line started…and seemed to never end. After his third loud sigh, Tess shot him a glare and he fell silent. There was less than a week left in the shopping season and the store was jammed, all registers open and running. Kyle looked around at the mob and was very grateful that he and his father never got caught up in this mess.

As they waited, Kyle’s eye was drawn to an odd sight – a cartoonish Christmas tree floating down the seasonal aisle near the checkouts. Interest piqued, he waited until the tree made a sharp turn, then stopped in full view.

It wasn’t a tree at all, but a hat made from green fleece, adorned to resemble a decorated Christmas tree. Below the tree lay a bed of springy blonde curls and below the curls lay Isabel Evans.

As he’d seen her many times in the last month, she had her head down, her eyes fixed on a leather-bound planner; in her hand, a red pen with a Rudolph head on the top of it. She scribbled and mumbled a few things to herself, then lifted her head as if to search the store for something. In that moment, her eyes met his and he was surprised at the direct eye contact.

Of all of the aliens, Kyle understood Isabel the least. Maybe that was because she was clearly not who he’d thought she was for all of those years. Before he’d been let in on the big secret, he’d known her only as the one that everyone wanted to catch, the cold, aloof sometimes bitchy beauty queen who might one day grant you a glance and then another day act like you were something stuck to her shoe. Even in his football captain days, Isabel Evans had been out of his reach. There were few guys she allowed to get close.

But now, he realized that none of those overly-hopeful guys had ever gotten close to her. She wore her beauty like a shield, her standoffish attitude protecting her from people seeing what was really underneath. After all, it was better for people to mistake her as being a bitch than understand that she was different from all of the other girls.

The moment passed, and without a smile or even a nod of recognition, Isabel turned on her heel and headed back down the aisle from which she’d come. Kyle watched the star atop her tree hat bob until it was out of sight, then jumped when Tess smacked him on the arm for holding up the line.

Tess placed her purchases on the counter and Kyle did a quick survey of the items – the controversial housecoat, a box of candy canes, a pair of leather gloves…and a box of tampons. Kyle’s ears reddened and he quickly diverted his gaze while the clerk rang up Tess’s items.

“Are you going to get Isabel a present?” he asked casually, wondering what one would buy an alien princess.

Tess gave a small shrug. “Probably.”

“What are you going to get her?”

She gave him a humored look, then shook her head. “I don’t know yet. Why are you interested all of a sudden?”

“Oh, I’m not. Just curious. She seems like she would be hard to buy for. Too hard to please or something.”

“I don’t think so.” Tess let it end there, taking her change from the clerk.

Kyle paid for his socks and together they headed for the parking lot. He tossed their bags into the trunk but before they could get into the car, Isabel hurried past them, scribbling angrily in her planner.

“Red garland,” she muttered. “I need red garland! All they have is green. What good is green! Now I have to go to another store and I’m going to have to miss the Christmas dog show – again!”

Kyle stood dumbfounded as she threw herself into her mother’s car and sped out of the parking lot. Then he snorted a laugh and climbed into the car with Tess.

“You don’t call that hard to please?” he asked as he tugged his seatbelt around him.

“No,” she replied levelly, sitting prim and proper in the passenger seat. “Isabel likes things the way she wants them. I can respect that.”

Kyle shot her a glance, felt another spark of panic. On some level, he knew that he would end up having to get a gift for her, and the fact that she understood Isabel’s high maintenance only put that much more pressure on him.

As he backed out of his parking spot, however, he caught himself grinning. While Isabel had been ranting, he was pretty sure he’d caught a few words that made him smile – something about a “tree”, and the words “Max” and “asshole” used in close proximity to one another.

Maybe he understood Isabel after all.

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Two

No red garland. None to be found in all of Roswell. Or Clovis. Or Artesia. Not one freaking strand. A day spent chasing red garland – only to come up empty.

Isabel sighed and held her head in her hand as she studied her planner. There, in bright red pen, was her list of items she still needed for the pageant. Crossed out in angry black pen was the offending red garland.

She’d had to settle for the silver. It was either that or the green and green garland was just wrong. If one was going to decorate in green, then naturally one would do the right thing and buy something made out of pine. And not fake pine – real pine. Green foil garland was just cheesy.

But she couldn’t buy the pine garland because it would clash with every other decoration she’d made for the stage. The only way to go was the silver. It was so not what she wanted. Silver foily things reminded her of space suits and tacky tourist town decorations. But it was what it was – she was a victim of high demand and low availability.

Seated in her Crashdown booth, Isabel told herself to be chipper. After all, it was the most wonderful time of the year. Time for sleigh rides and roasted chestnuts and all of those wonderful things.

Only…it was hard to run a sleigh on sand and quite frankly chestnuts tasted like burnt peanut shells to her.

A laugh erupted from the counter area of the café and Isabel lifted her head slightly to see the cause of the ruckus. Behind the bar, Liz Parker was drying a glass – or at least she had been until she’d stopped to bray like a donkey – and Kyle Valenti and Tess Harding were perched on stools before her. Isabel’s brow furrowed – it was an odd sight to see that group together. What with the ex-boyfriendness of Kyle and the ex-wifeness of Tess. It didn’t seem to Isabel like Liz would want anything to do with either of them, but there they were, laughing like idiots.

Isabel tilted her head to the side and studied the odd little gathering. Maybe there was joy in the season after all. Any other time of year, she’d expect Liz and Tess to be tearing each other’s hair out. In truth, Isabel would have liked to have seen that – she harbored a secret love for cat fights. Take away Tess’s powers and Isabel may have laid her money on Liz. After all, Liz had years of repressed angst built up over Max and Tess would be the perfect receptacle for that.

Thinking of Max made Isabel’s brow furrow and a frown come to her lips. What was his problem lately? Moping around like the world was coming to an end, sitting around with that beaten-dog look in his eyes. How could anyone have a Merry Christmas with all of that sulking going on? He was like an unwelcome fun sponge, soaking the joy out of the holiday season faster than a Bounty towel. Damn him.

Liz let out another shriek of laughter and Isabel rolled her eyes. Of course. Max was all mopey and morose and moody because of Liz. Another year without Liz. Another Christmas without Liz. Well – so what? Isabel was alone, too and no one saw her being all bitchy.

Although, she had overheard her father make a reference to a World War II German military office earlier that day…

At that moment, the canned Crashdown music switched to “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve” and Isabel let out an audible groan. To begin with, it was highly inappropriate to play a New Year’s song before Christmas had even passed. Secondly, it was horribly wrong and disrespectful to Ella Fitzgerald to play any version but hers – in this case, a rendition by Harry Connick Jr. Didn’t these people understand the basic rules of the holiday season?

“Yeah, I’ll help you stuff that turkey,” Kyle said in punch line, his voice echoing in the nearly-empty café.

Both Liz and Tess burst out laughing and Isabel looked at them in annoyance. Leave it to Kyle to invent some crude reference to stuffing turkeys. She eyed him in semi-disgust. Jock. That’s all he’d ever been. Captain of the football team, a starter since he’d been in ninth grade. Of course he played basketball and baseball and he wrestled as well. How macho of him. Isabel rolled her eyes, then glanced at Liz.

She really didn’t get the Liz thing. How had Kyle ever ended up with her? She was a brainiac. She was more interested in Kierkegaard and ontogeny recapitulating phylogeny than she was in passing yards and rebounds. It wasn’t that Isabel was surprised Kyle had been with Liz, she was surprised Liz had been with Kyle. What had she seen in him?

Without the ability to stop them, Isabel’s eyes settled on the sheriff’s son. He was sitting in partial profile, swiveling slightly back and forth on his bar stool. Isabel’s eyes drifted to his brown suede jacket, skimmed over his shoulders. He did have nice ones, so she had to give him that much. Her eyes fell downward, to his thighs. Well, one thing was for certain – he knew how to shop for clothes because his jeans fit perfectly. He had solid legs, probably from all of that running…

Catching herself, Isabel cleared her throat and returned to her planner. She was about to dive into the last of the decorations she was lacking when her cell phone rang inside of her purse. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was nearly ten o’clock at night – who could be calling her? If it was Max all depressed, she swore to God she was going to shove that pathetic excuse for a tree he’d brought home clear up his ass.

It wasn’t Max. It was one of her pageant participants. Immediately, she grinned and flipped on the phone, shifted into her voice of holiday cheer.

“Isabel Evans,” she sang into the phone.

“Isabel?” came a worried female voice.

“Yes, who’s calling please?”

“It’s Marjorie. From the tobacco shop.”

In her mind, Isabel saw the thirty-somethingish store owner – plump, friendly, non-threatening. “Happy holidays, Marjorie. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, happy holidays to you too, Isabel,” the woman chuckled nervously. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Immediately, Isabel’s smile fell. “What kind of bad news?” She tried to keep the impatience out of her voice, but had a feeling she’d failed.

“Well, Herb really, really wanted to be in the pageant this year. I can’t stress enough how much he really wanted to do it.” Herb was Marjorie’s husband –and a member of Isabel’s adult elf choir.

“What do you mean wanted?” Isabel asked, doom creeping in around her.

“Well, you know he hasn’t been feeling so well –”

“He’s seemed fine to me.”

Marjorie laughed nervously again. “Well, maybe you didn’t know then. He’s been fighting a bit of a flu bug and it’s finally got the best of him.”

“The pageant is in two days. He’ll be better by then.”

There was a brief silence, then Marjorie continued a little tentatively. “The doctor said he might not get his voice back for a week.”

“He lost his voice?” Isabel thundered.

“I’m sorry. He adores you and really wanted to help out this year. He just – can’t. I’m sorry again. I need to go tend to him. Take care now.”

The phone clicked off and Isabel looked at it in disbelief. One of her elves – an important one to the balance of the choir at that – was down for the count. With only two days to go until the pageant. What was she going to do?

Max. Max could sing. Right – like anyone wanted to hear him droning “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” like he was being dragged to his death. No, the farther her brother stayed from her pageant the better off she’d be.

Michael? Could Michael sing? She furrowed her brow and tried to remember him singing anything at all and came up empty. Michael wasn’t the type to stand in front of a group of people and belt out holiday tunes anyway. He was so hostile most of the time he’d probably frighten half of the children away.

“This sucks,” Isabel muttered, holding her head in her hands. Her pageant was going to be ruined. All because someone didn’t go get a flu shot like he should have.

Her dark eyes drifted to her planner, to the long list of items she still needed. Mentally, she tried to organize the list geographically, starting with the east end of Main Street and ending with the west. Some things she could get at the same store. At this point she needed to cut some corners because time was short and she was down an elf. She was going to have to compromise.

And Isabel hated to compromise. Especially when it came to Christmas. How were people supposed to have a perfect Christmas when short cuts had been taken? How could the day be perfect when the preparation was not? How could it be perfect when the elf choir was missing an elf!

“Alright, closing time everyone,” Liz called from behind the bar, attempting to shoo her remaining handful of customers to the door.

Isabel sighed and slammed her planner closed. She’d have to organize her lists when she got home. Maybe she’d even have to ask her parents if they knew of anyone who would want to join the elves at the last minute. As she rose to put on her coat, out of the corner of her eye she saw Tess and Kyle slide off their bar stools.

“I mean it,” Liz was saying to them. “If you guys want to come here for dinner, you know you’re always welcome.”

“They have the best turkey dinner,” Kyle said to Tess, sounding a little too eager.

“And we’ll even clear the table and do the dishes for you,” Liz giggled.

“Did you hear that!” Kyle exclaimed. “No dishes!”

“Let’s get out of Liz’s hair,” Tess replied good-naturedly, not buying Kyle’s plea for a Crashdown Christmas dinner. “She said it was closing time.”

“Oh, alright,” Kyle replied dejectedly.

Then, a miracle happened. At least what one would deem a miracle in the holiday fantasy world of Isabel Evans. On their way to the door, Kyle opened his mouth and started to sing.

“Closing time! Open all the doors and let you out into the world! Closing time! Turn all of the lights on over every boy and every girl! Closing time! One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer! Closing time! You don't have to go home but you can't stay here!”

“Stop it!” Tess laughed, back-handing him in the bread basket.

Isabel was stunned into motionlessness, her coat poised over her head, her arms partially into the sleeves. Kyle Valenti could sing. She blinked once, twice, then felt her inner Grinch grow a heart three times in size.

Kyle Valenti could sing!

And he was also walking out of the door, into the night, her opportunity about to be lost forever.

“Wait!” she called, her voice so shrill that both Tess and Kyle jumped. She shoved her arms through her coat and pointed a well-manicured finger at the sheriff’s son. “You. Get back here.”

Kyle’s blue eyes went wide and he started back-stepping toward the outside, to his escape.

“Oh no,” Isabel laughed without mirth. “You come here. I have a job for you.”

Tess was barely able to suppress her grin as Kyle mumbled, “I was afraid of that.”

tbc

** lyrics are from "Closing Time" by Semisonic

[Midwest Max]

I should be updating Chasing the Son today, but I had ideas for this one that I just had to get down. Poor Kyle is having a bad morning Thanks to everyone who is reading!


Part Three

The next morning, Kyle emerged from the shower and headed for the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. To his delight, he saw that his father had already arisen and was sitting at the table writing out checks to pay the bills; the smell of fresh-brewed java hung in the air.

“I’ve always been a fan of yours,” Kyle said as he passed the man, noting his cowboy housecoat. “But today I’m elevating you to god status.”

Jim looked over the top of his reading glasses. “Huh?”

“You’re the Coffee God, the patron saint of joe,” Kyle sighed, closing his eyes and inhaling the aroma coming from the glass carafe. “My savior, my true hero.”

Jim blinked. “You okay, son?”

Kyle chuckled as he pulled a mug from the cupboard. “Just happy I didn’t have to make the brew this morning.”

“Uh huh,” Jim said, returning to his stack of bills. “Because using a scooper and pouring water is difficult.”

“It’s not the scoop or the water, it’s all of that pushing of the buttons,” Kyle joked. “Besides – I’m lazy.”

Jim snorted a laugh and started writing the next check.

As Kyle poured his cup, he looked out the kitchen window and found Tess’s silver SUV gone from the drive. It wasn’t unusual for Tess to get up early and go – wherever it was she went. The sheriff’s house had pretty much a “don’t ask/don’t tell” policy and Tess never felt the need to bore them with the details of her day. Kyle liked that about her – she came, she went, she took care of herself and didn’t demand the others to cater to her ridiculously high standards.

Unlike some other hybrid female he knew.

Kyle took a sip of his coffee and gave a little shake of his head. That Isabel. Now, there was one crazy chick – especially this time of year. Thinking she could strong-arm him into dressing up like an elf and singing in front of the whole town. Well, he had news for her – her tactics might work on the weaker-minded population, but she definitely wasn’t pushing him around. No elf choir for him. No siree.

Not that he’d actually said that to her. In fact, he wasn’t sure that he’d said anything at all, hadn’t agreed nor disagreed to be in her little show. But inside he knew he wasn’t doing it. Period. Come on – a guy had to keep his dignity after all.

Still shaking off sleep, Kyle slipped into a chair at the table, watched his father scrawling out payments to various utilities. Wordless, Kyle picked up the ones that had already been written and started stuffing them into the envelopes, applying a stamp to each one as he went.

“What did you do last night?” the sheriff asked without looking up.

“Tess and I ate dinner at the CrashDown,” Kyle replied between licks of an envelope flap. “Liz says they’re doing dinner again this year.”

Jim smiled. “Good. Sounds like a plan, then.”

“Same as every year,” Kyle agreed happily. Another Valenti tradition. He was overjoyed that he had the sheriff on his side – maybe the two of them could break Tess of her need to ruin all of their carefully developed Christmas routines. After all, it would be two against one – and would she really want to stay home all by herself? No, if faced with solitude, she’d follow them to the CrashDown and eat deep fried turkey with the rest of them. And she’d probably be glad she did so, too!

“You off this week?” Kyle asked, affixing a stamp to the electric bill.

“Of course,” Jim grinned. “Who wants to work on play-off week?”

Kyle’s grinned matched his father’s. Yep – The Traditional Valenti Christmas. A manly holiday, full of football and meals cooked by others. Perhaps he’d been premature in his panicking.

The sheriff had just written out the last bill when the doorbell rang. Kyle gave Jim a curious look, then shrugged and moved to answer the door. On the other side, a courier was standing on the porch, checking out his clipboard.

“Are you – Kyle Valenti?” the man read from the paper, the name measured as he spoke it.

“Yeah?” Kyle answered, wondering why this man was here.

“Got a package for you,” the courier said, turning the clipboard around so Kyle could sign the delivery slip.

“I didn’t order anything,” he protested lightly, not taking the pen from the man.

“Take it up with whoever sent it,” the courier replied without humor, one eyebrow raised in challenge. Take the damn pen and sign the paper or else…Apparently it had been a long holiday season for the shipping industry.

Kyle scowled, then scribbled his name illegibly along the dotted line. The courier snatched back the clipboard, ripped out a pink copy of the invoice, slapped it atop a large, flat box, then shoved both at the sheriff’s son; the package jingled softly with the motion.

“Merry Christmas,” the courier said mechanically, then raced from the porch as though he feared Kyle would give the box back to him.

Kyle stood dumbfounded and watched the man drive away in his delivery truck. Backing into the house, he kicked the door shut and went to set the box on the table.

“What’s that?” Jim asked.

Kyle shrugged. “He said it was for me.” He looked at the label on the box and couldn’t make out any clue as to where it had come from. There were times on the pick up notice, however, and they indicated that it had been retrieved late last night – around eleven p.m. What whack job called for a courier at that hour?

“It looks like a wreath box,” Jim mused. “Well, don’t just stand there – open it up and see what it is.”

Kyle ripped the brown paper from the package, then lifted the lid. At first he saw nothing but tissue paper, but when he pawed that away from the item in the box, he took a quick step backward.

“Oh, no!” he squeaked.

Jim’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “What is it, Kyle?”

Kyle pointed a shaking hand at the box. “No! It’s a mistake! It isn’t for me!”

At his son’s terror, the sheriff rose and pulled the box to his side of the table. Reaching inside, he pulled out a pair of pants, a jacket, a hat…and a pair of pointy shoes. The shoes had up-turned toes and on the toes were large jingle bells; they rang cheerily as Jim held them up in silent question.

Kyle was shaking his head vehemently. “It’s a mistake!”

“What are you talking about? Why is there an elf costume on our table?” Jim asked calmly.

Oh, it all made sense – Isabel Evans was definitely whack enough to call for a courier at eleven at night. The big question was how had she gotten an extra elf costume that quickly? Kyle knew that she hadn’t raced over to Herb and Marjorie’s house to swipe Herb’s costume – Kyle had met Herb and he was a large man, no way would Kyle ever be able to fill his clothes. So it begged the question – did she actually have spare elf clothes in her possession?

“She wants me to sing,” Kyle told his father. “In a freakin’ elf choir!”

“Who?” the sheriff asked. “Tess? And watch your language.”

“No, Isabel Evans. One of her elves got sick – at least that’s the story he gave. I’m guessing she scared him enough that he quit.”

Jim suppressed his grin and put the shoes on the table.

“Now she wants me to fill in.” Despair flooded the younger Valenti’s expression.

“Oh,” Jim said, sipping his coffee. “It wouldn’t be that bad, would it?”

“What!” Kyle screeched. “Dad! I can’t believe you think this is a good idea! I can’t do this – I can’t be seen in front of the whole town wearing that!” He motioned toward the bright red and green costume like it might sting him. “And then sing on top of it! No way!”

“You have a nice voice.”

Kyle blinked in disbelief. “You have to do something. You have to help me.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Kyle struggled for something, anything that would help. “I don’t know – arrest her!”

“Arrest her?”

“Get her off the streets! Make Christmas safe again!”

Jim laughed as he sat back in his chair. “Kyle, I can’t arrest Isabel for volunteering you to be in her pageant. If you don’t want to do it, then tell her so.”

“No I don’t want to do it! It’s not in our traditions, Dad!”

“Then tell her that.”

Tell her that? In his mind, Kyle imagined that aftermath of that conversation. First he saw the anger in her dark, alien eyes. Then he imagined the ensuing Ice Age, during which all was quiet, giving him the false sense of security that all was fine in his world. Until one day at school she snuck up on him and bludgeoned him with a Yule log.

In short, Kyle lacked the balls to tell her no.

However, he was saved the shame of having to admit this to his father as there was a loud thump at the door. He looked at Jim, then moved to open it. Breathing heavily under the strain, Tess struggled through the door, pulling a large pine tree behind her. Kyle had to jump out of the way to avoid being flattened by the branches as they sprang free of the doorway; it reminded him of an arrow being pulled out backwards.

“What’s this!” he blurted.

Tess pulled the tree free of the door like an obstetrician birthing a new Christmas baby, and stopped to gather her breath. “It’s a Christmas tree.”

Kyle’s eyes shot to the tree, then to Tess, then to his father, who was passively studying the new arrival, then back to Tess. “We don’t put up a tree.” His voice held a bit of panic, a sense that he was losing all control.

“We’re going to put one up this year,” Tess said, glancing at the sheriff’s offending housecoat before starting to check out the living room to see where the tree should stand.

In that instant, Kyle saw his optimism for a traditional Christmas flushing straight down the toilet. He’d been too eager to believe that things were going to be normal this year – after all, how could anything be “normal” when aliens were involved? Let alone female aliens – they seemed the most bothersome of all.

“We don’t have any ornaments,” he told Tess, who had moved to the living room and was struggling to push a large chair out of the way.

“I bought some,” she replied. “They’re in the car – think you could get them for me? And be careful – some of them are breakable.”

Kyle stood helplessly in the hallway, a fallen Christmas tree at his feet, an alien/human hybrid rearranging the furniture in the living room – the room he and his father claimed for watching football play-offs every year. It had started with claiming his bedroom and a few fine-washables hanging on the shower curtain rod – and now she had graduated to taking over the most valued room in the house.

As the totality of his impotence sunk in, Kyle’s blue eyes drifted to the box on the table. A red sleeve rimmed with green rick-rack hung limply over the side.

Elf costumes.

Pine trees.

Ornaments in the car.

The Traditional Valenti Christmas slipping away before his very eyes.

Kyle did the only thing he could – he fled.

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Four

Publicly showing anger was unbecoming to an organizer of all things Christmas and was definitely detrimental to the goal of having a perfect Christmas. This is what Isabel told herself as she marched down the brick streets of Roswell, a jingle of bells in her wake. She thought she’d been perfectly clear in giving directions the night before. Had she somehow made herself unclear? If she hadn’t, then that only meant that one of her elves was being defiant. And if there was one thing the Christmas Nazi couldn’t tolerate it was insubordination.

For one thing, his being late had thrown off her schedule – for the third day in a row. And once the first thing of the day was off, then everything would be off. She was going to have to spend the rest of the day cutting things out of her calendar, and how could she not do everything Christmassy on her list and succeed in Christmas perfection? The answer – she couldn’t.

And it was all Kyle Valenti’s fault.

And there he was, sipping a cup of coffee and looking through the sports section of the newspaper, like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Don’t blast him in public, she reminded herself as she drew in a deep breath before approaching his booth at the back of the CrashDown. It will only ruin everyone’s holiday if they find out there are aliens among them.

So the glamour-girl smile made its way to Isabel’s lips (adorned perfectly in Christmas red lipstick), though the smile never quite met her eyes - there was something a little icier there.

Kyle never saw her coming. His eyes may have been fixed on the newspaper before him and he may have given the aura of someone completely content with his morning, but inside he was a mess. How had things in his life deteriorated so quickly? A year ago, it was just he and his dad, having a wonderfully lazy holiday. Now there were aliens – and women! – around to mess things up. Things were never going to be the same, were they?

“Kyle!”

The name was barked with a coating of Christmas cheer, but he still felt the underlying chill all of the way down to his bones. Jumping, he looked up in fear to find one of his tormentors planted at the end of his table. Then his eyes drifted over her shoulder and found two very disgruntled-looking elves – in full elf-attire – glaring daggers at him. He would have laughed at their ridiculous outfits if they hadn’t looked like they wanted to kill him…and if he hadn’t been aware that he had the same ridiculous outfit at home.

“What time is it, Kyle?” Isabel asked, placing a hand on one of her slim hips and cocking her head to one side.

Kyle swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes drifted to the alien-face clock tacked above the CrashDown bar. “Ten thirty?” He answered in the form of a question, his tone holding just a tinge of hope that she wasn’t about to pummel him.

“Ten thirty,” she confirmed. “Where were you supposed to be at ten o’clock this morning?”

His brow furrowing, Kyle tried to remember. He was supposed to be somewhere? Since school had been let out for the holiday break, he’d held a pretty loose schedule. He couldn’t remember needing to be anywhere…though the angered looks of the elf posse were sending him a hint.

“Elf practice?” Isabel baited. “Ring a bell?”

Kyle chuckled uneasily.

“Dress rehearsal, I might add,” she continued. “Did you get the package I sent you this morning?”

Maybe he could play stupid. Maybe he could act like he never got the offending clown suit delivered by special courier that morning…

But that wasn’t to be. The Christmas Nazi pulled open the ubiquitous planner, flipped pages rapidly until she halted with a raised eyebrow. “I see here that the package was delivered at eight-fifty this morning.” With that, she snapped the planner shut. “Which means you got it. Remember my telling you that you needed to be at the park to rehearse this morning at ten?”

“I never agreed to that,” Kyle defended feebly.

“This is your last chance to rehearse before the pageant tomorrow,” Isabel continued, either oblivious to his protests or having chosen to ignore them. “You want to sound good, don’t you? It’s going to be hard enough that you’re stepping in at the last minute, and now to miss your last chance at rehearsal – well, that’s just a disaster in the making.”

“You aren’t listening to me,” Kyle said a little more firmly this time. “I never said I’d do this.”

Isabel withdrew slightly. “Of course you’re going to do this. My elf choir isn’t complete without you.”

Kyle tossed a hand in the air. “I don’t care!”

Apparently those were the wrong three words do say to her. In that instant, her eyes narrowed and the pasted-on grin of Christmas cheer melted away to something a little more menacing. Kyle waited for the inevitable whammy to smack him in the head, but instead Isabel leaned very close to him, out of earshot of the elves.

The look in her eyes terrified him, but that emotion was quickly mixed with a confusing surge of something else as she slid her hand up his thigh, stopping to rest just short of dangerous territory. She was so close to him that he could smell her perfume, and if he hadn’t been too terrified to look, he could have seen straight down her bright red sweater.

“You will come to practice now,” she said lowly to him, her dark eyes locked on his. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to turn your balls into icicles.”

With that she gave him a victorious grin and pulled her hand away, but not before the warm of her touch was replaced with a stinging chill. Kyle grimaced and rubbed his thigh as she spun on one heel to retreat. The elves hesitated, then looked angrily at Kyle again.

“Listen,” one of them said, his voice way deeper than Kyle would have expected. “You’re going to get us all in trouble if you keep this up. For the love of God, man, show up so the rest of us can live to see the holiday.”

“Yeah,” piped in Elf Number Two. “I’ve got a family to think of!”

Kyle watched after them in disbelief. He didn’t want to go to elf practice. He didn’t want to be in the elf choir. But there was unwritten guy code that said you never left a fellow guy hanging out to dry. If he didn’t show up, then he was screwing over the elves, and he wasn’t entirely sure, but there had to be some bad karma there. Besides, he could still feel her hand on his thigh and could even remember how warm it was before she’d turned on the liquid nitrogen.

So he pushed himself from the booth and followed a respectable distance behind. No, he would not go home and get the elf suit. Yes, he would go to the park.

But that didn’t mean he was planning on cooperating.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A headache was starting to form behind Isabel’s left eye. It was unacceptable that she’d had to track down one of her elves. There was no time for herding in the flock – didn’t people get that? And Kyle hadn’t sung one note with the other elves – didn’t he want to get some practice in? Didn’t he want to do a good job?

With a pain in her heart, she realized that maybe what the sheriff’s son had said was true – he didn’t really care about her pageant. Maybe he was totally indifferent to something that meant so much to her.

Didn’t people appreciate all she was trying to do? Didn’t people understand what a burden the perfect Christmas could be?

“I picked up the ten cases of candy canes you ordered,” Michael suddenly said from beside her.

Isabel whirled and was pleased to see that he’d remembered he was supposed to dress appropriately for this rehearsal. Yes, Michael was just a door attendant (even though there were no doors to the outdoor venue), but he still understood that dressing the part was important. Isabel immediately grinned at the fact he’d remembered and the pain behind her eye abated a bit.

“Thanks, Michael, you’re a peach!” Too perky? Perhaps.

Michael didn’t react to her overly-chipper gratitude, however. “Do you know how many candy canes are in ten cases? That’s a lot of candy canes.”

“Well, I plan on having a lot of people in the audience!”

“You’d better hope for all of Roswell to show up,” he deadpanned. “Because there’s enough for everyone in the city.”

Isabel deflated a bit, counted to five to regain her patience, then said, “Could you just put them under the stage until tomorrow? Please?”

Michael gave an indifferent shrug and moved to unload the candy canes from Max’s Jeep.

Kyle followed the elves onto the stage and joined a small group of similarly-dressed men. The three new faces all cast angry glances in his direction and he gave an apologetic shrug. Some of them looked at his suede jacket and jeans and shook their heads disapprovingly. Kyle felt guilty, indignant and ridiculous all at the same time.

Then Michael Guerin walked past him wearing a red-and-white striped shirt and a green vest and Kyle suddenly didn’t feel so ridiculous. Was it possible the mighty Guerin was also afraid of the Christmas Nazi?

“Here’s a song book,” the elf with the deep voice said, passing him a thin booklet with a red cover. “The songs are already in the order in which we’ll sing them.”

Kyle looked down at the book, realized it was homemade but not some school-project job. The cover was hand drawn and the titled with beautiful calligraphy – Roswell Christmas Pageant 2000. One corner of his mouth quirked up, knowing that Isabel wouldn’t trust anyone to do the artwork for her and wondered when she found time to do anything else throughout the year other than plan for this pageant.

He flipped open the book and found that the first song was “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” Perfect.

Isabel gave some orders to the decorating crew for the backdrop, then turned to face her elves. To her delight, she found Kyle amongst them – it was easy to pick him out since he was the only one not dressed in red and green and jingling every time he moved. She wouldn’t let him see that she was happy he’d shown up, however – he still needed to believe he was being scolded for throwing off her day.

“Okay, guys,” she said to her choir. “Let’s get started. Turn to page one – everyone ready? Okay, here we go.” She counted off a couple of bars, then signaled her group to start.

They sounded great, but something was just…off. She heard the first verse – “God rest ye merry gentlemen let nothing you dismay”. But she also heard something else – it sounded like “The restroom door said gentlemen so I just walked inside.” She shook her head to clear what had to have been something she misheard and waited for the second line – “Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day.” She got that, but also an additional second line – “I took two steps and realized I'd been taken for a ride”. After that, she could concentrate on nothing but the errant verses, culminating in this:

I heard high voices turned and found
The place was occupied
By two nuns, three old ladies, and a nurse
What could be worse?
Than two nuns, three old ladies and a nurse.

Isabel’s eyes searched for the culprit and of course landed on Kyle. Rage festered within her – first he was late, then she had to track him down, and now he was mocking her! Mocking her perfect Christmas! How dare he!!

“Kyle Valenti!” she screeched and all of the men jumped and fell silent.

Kyle felt a momentary stab of fear, then fell into a smirk. The other elves all sighed in impatience, some of them rolling their eyes and shaking their heads. Inside, Kyle was jumping for joy – he’d annoyed his way out of this gig, he just knew it.

But then he saw something resembling hurt in Isabel Evans’s dark eyes and all of his glee melted away. He hadn’t meant to hurt her – he simply wanted out of this thing she’d shoved him into. Before she could reprimand him or he could ask for forgiveness, however, Max slid in beside her and whispered something to her.

And Kyle saw the hurt in her eyes replaced by something else, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Isabel looked at Max with such a lost expression that Kyle immediately felt like a complete ass for giving her a hard time. He watched brother and sister converse, with Max doing most of the talking and Isabel only nodding in agreement a couple of times.

Then Max moved away and Isabel paused for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the song book before her. In that moment, she looked so vulnerable that Kyle wished he could do something to make her feel better, though he wasn’t sure what. Whatever Max had said to her had to have been unwelcome news and for a second Kyle could feel what it was like to really be on the outside like the aliens were.

And then it dawned on him that maybe that’s why Isabel pushed the Christmas thing so hard. Maybe it was the one thing that she thought she could control when nothing else in her life was in control. Maybe it was the one thing that she could share with the human race, the one thing that never discriminated against one’s race or origins.

And maybe for the first time in his life, Kyle was beginning to understand Isabel Evans.

tbc


I'm not sure who wrote Kyle's God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen spoof, but it wasn't me So, here's credit to whoever did And below is the complete song, if you've never heard it:

The Restroom Door Said Gentlemen
(to God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen)
The restroom door said Gentlemen
So I just walked inside
I took two steps and realized
I'd been taken for a ride
I heard high voices turned and found
The place was occupied
By two nuns, three old ladies, and a nurse
What could be worse?
Than two nuns, three old ladies and a nurse.

The restroom door said Gentlemen
It must have been a gag
As soon as I walked in there I ran into some old hag
She sprayed me with a can of mace
And snapped me with her bag.
I could tell this just wouldn't be my day
What can I say?
It just wasn't turning out to be my day.

The restroom door said Gentlemen
And I would like to find
The crummy little creep who had the nerve to switch the sign
Cause I've got two black eyes
And one high heel up my behind
Now I can't sit with comfort and joy
Boy, oh, boy
No, I'll never sit with comfort and joy.

[Midwest Max]

Part Five

Dickens wrote of ghosts, of specters that embodied each of the phases of Christmas – the Ghost of Christmas Past, the Ghost of Christmas Present and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. If he’d considered that someday Max Evans would walk the earth, he may have combine all three into one being, since it seemed that Max was haunted by his recent past, was miserable in his present and uncertain about his future.

Isabel mused on that as she stood outside of her brother’s bedroom. Max was lying on his bed, his arm thrown over his face in a sad attempt to block out the world. She worked her mouth and felt a little guilty over some of the thoughts she’d had about him lately – it was obvious that he was miserable and she’d been too consumed with her Christmas plans to notice. Then again, Max was usually miserable – and usually due to one particular waitress – so Isabel couldn’t blame herself entirely. Still…

Mustering her courage, Isabel rapped lightly on Max’s door. He lowered his arm and tipped his head in her direction.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

He nodded, then dropped his arm to his side. Isabel sat on the edge of his bed, worked her hands in her lap, searching for the right words. Max was sensitive – more sensitive than some women she knew – and she understood that she needed to tread lightly.

“It isn’t your fault,” she began carefully.

Max watched her silently, no hint in his eyes that he believed her on any level.

“Bad things happen,” Isabel continued. “You can’t prevent all of them, Max. How can you possibly believe that you’re even supposed to prevent them?”

He looked down at his hands. “What good is it?” he asked, studying his palms, his voice quiet. “What good is it to have a power that you can’t use? That you’re afraid to use? That you’re so afraid to use that a man is now dead and his family is left without a husband and father?”

Isabel put a hand on his arm, bringing his gaze to hers. “Do you think that maybe other men have died recently? That their families are without them this Christmas? You’re no more responsible for that man’s death than you are for those other people.”

Max gave a little snort. “That’s what Liz said, more or less.”

Well, there it was – the cherry on top of the sundae. Start with a little seasonal guilt, toss in a Liz Parker encounter and there you’ve got all the misery you need.

“You talked with Liz?” Isabel asked, trying to keep the weariness from her tone.

Max nodded. “I needed someone to talk to. And Liz and I…we want to be friends.”

Of course they did. Or at least he did. Isabel wasn’t so sure about Liz. In the past, Liz had pretty much come running if Max beckoned, and if Max was still so obviously delirious over her, why wasn’t she willingly grabbing the chance? Isabel wanted to ask that question, but one more ounce of conflict just might send her brother over the edge.

“So, what did Liz say?” she asked instead, deciding to play Switzerland and declare neutrality.

“She doesn’t have any answers,” Max said, his gaze turning back to his hands. “The ghost told me I needed to restore the balance.”

“In what way?”

Max shook his head. “I haven’t figured that out yet.” He sighed and stared up at his ceiling.

Isabel felt a tug of empathy for her overly-serious brother. The weight of the world seemed to be on his shoulders. Definitely not the way to have a perfect Christmas.

“I have to go finish up some things for the pageant,” she said. “Would you like to come along? It might get your mind off things.”

Max glanced at the clock. “Iz, it’s after ten o‘clock.”

She conjured up her smile of holiday cheer. “A Christmas Nazi’s work is never done.”

At that, Max paled, then reddened.

“Oh yeah,” she said, nodding her head. “I hear what you guys call me, though I do have to give Michael the most credit for being the most creative with it. I think he’s even learned to speak German.” She pinned her brother with a pointed look, let him squirm a moment, then let him back off the hook. “At any rate, I’m going to the park. Interested?”

Max paused as though he was considering it, and eventually shook his head.

“Okay,” Isabel said. “If you get bored, you know where I’ll be.”

With that, she leaned over and kissed his forehead, which seemed to surprise him.

“Merry Christmas, Max.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Valenti house was quiet as Kyle lay on the couch, which had served as his bed for the past three months. In the corner, Tess’s Christmas tree was ablaze with many lights – and not the small mini lights, but the real big old-fashioned C7 lights. The effect was blinding and Kyle wondered if there would be any sleeping with that huge distraction on the other side of the room. Of course, he would have been lying to himself if he believed the lights were the only reason he was wide awake.

Heaving a sigh, he swung his legs off the couch, grabbed something from the kitchen table and made his way back to his old bedroom. Pausing outside of the door, he found Tess sitting on the floor folding his father’s new housecoat into a large gift box. Beside her leg was a roll of wrapping paper, a roll of tape and a pair of scissors. The scissors made Kyle doubt his reason for visiting her.

Tess snapped the lid onto the box, then looked up at her visitor with a smile. “Hey, Kyle.”

“Hey.” He pointed to the box. “Wrapping gifts?”

“Yep. Christmas is only two days away. Besides, I needed to do this while your dad was out – I didn’t want him to catch me and ruin the surprise.”

Kyle watched her roll out the paper and lay the box on it, then start cutting the paper to the right size. After a few moments, he sat down on his old bed, felt a stab of longing that it was no longer his; camping on the couch was fun for a while, but then one’s back tended to long for a more comfortable bed.

“Listen,” he began tentatively. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

Tess looked up from her spot on the floor. “What’s up?”

Hesitant, he reached into the box he’d picked up from the table and pulled out the elf pants. “These are a little long,” he said without looking at her. “I don’t want it to seem sexist or like I’m assuming you can sew, but I thought maybe you could work some voodoo and fix them for me.”

There was a period of silence and finally Kyle had to meet her eyes. In their blue depths, he saw a twinkle of amusement.

“I thought you weren’t going to be an elf,” she finally said, her amusement showing in her tone.

“Well, I’m not,” he lied. “Not really. I mean, you know, just in case…”

“In case of what?” she baited.

“Well, you never know when you might need an elf costume, right? And when the time comes, that’s something you’d definitely want to be prepared for. So, I thought while I had the opportunity to get them shortened, maybe I should.”

“Because you might someday need an elf costume,” Tess repeated, ribbing him subtly.

“Yeah.”

“Because the possibility of that actually happening is what – one in thirteen trillion?”

Kyle looked at her sheepishly, then became a little defensive. “If you don’t think you can do it, I can take them somewhere else –”

“Kyle,” Tess laughed, holding out her hand. “Give them to me. How much do you need taken off?”

He hesitated, thought about trying to deny he was seriously going to dress up like an elf, then shrugged. “About two inches.”

“Done.” Tess placed the pants on the floor beside her and resumed wrapping the sheriff’s gift.

“While you’re at it,” Kyle said, scratching the back of his head, “you could expand the crotch area a little, because, well, I obviously need a little more room than the average elf.”

Tess didn’t even look up from her wrapping. “Goodnight, Kyle.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael had been right – ten cases of candy canes was a lot. Isabel thought this as she started on case number two. She was sitting at the edge of the stage, her long legs hanging over the side. To her right, the cases of candy canes were stacked, to her left were baskets she was placing them in after she’d decorated them. Some of the canes simply had ribbons on them – those were for the adults – while others had pipe cleaners twisted around them to make them look like reindeer. When she’d first dreamed up the idea, it had seemed like a good one.

Now, sitting alone in a chilly park after eleven at night, she felt tired and no longer so enthused about her candy cane adventure.

It was that damn Max again, bringing down her holiday. Mr. Gloom. Isabel frowned as guilt kicked her in the solar plexus. It was so easy to blame him for her melancholy mood when she knew that her disposition was all of her own creation. She’d been unjust to her brother over the last week, never realizing what he was going through. In retrospect, her Christmas demands seemed rather unimportant in comparison to the burden he’d been carrying.

“There you are,” came a familiar voice.

Isabel looked up to see Kyle walking toward her. He held a paper cup in each hand as he came to stop before her.

“Coffee?” he asked, offering one of the cups.

Her dark eyes shifted to the cup and she remembered rather quickly his making elf rehearsal a debacle earlier in the day. With a snort, she shook her head and reached for the next box of candy canes.

“Okay then,” Kyle said. “I’ll just set it over here in case you decide you want it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Isabel saw him put the cup beside the row of baskets.

“So, what are you doing?” he asked, shoving his free hand into his jacket pocket.

Isabel sighed. She so wasn’t in the mood for this. “Go home, Kyle,” she said wearily.

“I don’t want to go home,” he said simply, no offense in his tone.

She looked at him, her brow furrowed. What was this all about?

“I went over to your house, but obviously you weren’t there. Max told me you were here. What gives with that guy? I mean, seriously. Did someone run over his puppy or something?”

Isabel reminded herself that Kyle wasn’t meaning to be insensitive – he simply didn’t know all of the details of what was going on in the alien nation. “Leave Max alone,” she said quietly, cutting a strand of ribbon to tie onto one of the canes.

Kyle stopped short, scratched his head in semi-confusion – it seemed that Isabel was always willing to bash her brother a little. So what was different about tonight? He wasn’t sure, but he knew enough to let it lie.

“Are you curious why I was looking for you?” he asked.

She stopped mid-tie and looked at him silently.

“I wanted to apologize for being a dick earlier,” he said.

“Accepted,” she replied with indifference, completed the bow and moved on to the next.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Kyle said patiently.

“You don’t need to grovel. If you say you’re sorry, then you’re sorry. End of story.”

“I wasn’t going to grovel, I was going to give you the opportunity to apologize as well.”

At that, Isabel’s bow-tying came to a halt and her head jerked up quickly. “I beg your pardon?”

Kyle’s gaze was steady, not letting her off the hook. “All you had to do was ask, Isabel. If you needed my help, all you needed to do was ask nicely.”

She snorted. “And you would have said yes?”

He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not – we’ll never know. But you automatically assumed I would say no, so you tried to strong-arm me into doing something I didn’t want to do. Just so you could get your way. Where I come from, that ain’t right. Next time offer me the respect everyone deserves and ask me nicely instead of threatening to freeze my balls.”

Isabel dropped her gaze to the candy cane in her hand. He was right. She’d acted selfishly in forcing him to be one of the elves. Another layer of guilt stacked on top of that she’d already collected from her treatment of Max. She lifted her head and met Kyle eye-to-eye.

“You’re right, Kyle,” she said. “And I’m sorry.”

“Accepted.” Then he grinned, a boyishly handsome grin that did something odd to her midsection. “So, what are you doing?”

She gestured absent-mindedly toward the baskets. “Tying bows on these ones, making reindeer out of those.”

Kyle looked at the baskets, then at the stack of cases. “All of those?”

Isabel nodded.

“Well, shit,” he said. “I should have brought more coffee.”

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”

“Because we’re going to be here all night,” he said cheerfully, sitting down beside her.

“You don’t have to stay and help me,” she assured him.

“I know,” he replied, smiling. “But I want to.”

Kyle set down his cup and picked up one of the candy canes and a strip of ribbon, made humorous faces as he tried to decide how to place the ribbon on the cane. Isabel watched him in confused curiosity until he figured it out, then he gave her a grin and placed the finished product in one of the baskets.

“It will go faster if we both work at it,” he pointed out, gesturing toward her motionless hands.

At that, Isabel jerked and started tying her next ribbon. It was an odd night, what with Max’s morality dilemma, the pageant looming and having Kyle Valenti call her out on her selfish behavior.

But after a few minutes, he started to hum a Christmas carol and Isabel smiled – maybe having a perfect Christmas didn’t mean doing it all yourself. Maybe even a Christmas Nazi needed a little help every now and then. And maybe the Nazi should learn to graciously accept that help.

Especially if it came bearing coffee.

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Six

“So, do you like, have any traditions?”

Isabel looked up from the latest candy cane to receive a bow. She and Kyle had been decorating them for hours now, but those hours had skipped by so quickly she may have been convinced that it had been no time at all.

“Traditions?” she asked, placing the candy in one of the now-heaping baskets.

“You know, things that you and your family do every year.” Kyle reached for the last box of candy canes.

Isabel shrugged. “I do the pageant.”

“Yeah, but that’s not really a tradition,” he countered, puncturing the cellophane package.

“It isn’t? What is it then?”

“Well, every town in this country has a pageant. Every grade school has one. Everyone has one.”

Isabel cocked a perfect eyebrow. “So that makes it not a tradition? Sounds like it definitely makes it one to me.”

Kyle paused as if searching for the right words. “Don’t blast me or anything, but there’s a difference between tradition and cliché.”

Her brow furrowed and she waited for him to explain. She couldn’t wait to hear this one – was he really about to dis all of her hard work?

Kyle’s eyes grew round, knowing he’d somehow irked the Ice Princess. “I’m just saying that having a pageant is as much tradition as putting up a Christmas tree. Everyone does it. It’s not…it’s not personal.”

“And traditions should be personal?”

“I think so.” He broke into another grin that did that same bizarre thing to her belly. “There are things that my Dad and I do that other people might find really stupid, but to us they’re family traditions.”

Now Isabel was intrigued. Pausing from her candy cane decorating, she gave him her full attention. “Like what?”

Kyle opened his mouth as if to spill all of his dark secrets, but then he reddened and cleared his throat. “Um, as I said before, you might think it’s stupid.”

“I won’t,” she said sincerely.

“Okay.” He shifted his weight uneasily. “Dad and I watch a lot of football this time of year.”

Isabel shrugged. “So do my dad and Max. Why is that stupid?”

“We have to have potato chips. And French onion dip. And, um, a bag of peanut M&M’s.” He gave a nervous chuckle and started furiously wrapping a ribbon around one of the candy canes.

Isabel studied him intently for a long moment. Finally, she deadpanned, “M&M’s.”

“Yeah. Heh.” Kyle scratched his head and immediately reached for the next candy cane.

“You’re right, Kyle. That is kind of stupid.”

His hands dropped to his lap. “I know. I told you. But football isn’t the same unless we have chips, dip and a bag of peanut M&M’s. One year we got the plain kind and it just wasn’t the same. Wasn’t half as enjoyable.”

“Of course not.”

“But the next year – let me assure you, sister, we had the right kind. Right then and there we agreed to never mess with a good tradition. But I digress. Back to the original question – do you have any traditions?”

Isabel thought about that. They put up a tree, they had dinner, they went to midnight mass – well, everyone but Max went to midnight mass. She ran the pageant. They bought gifts. But there seemed to be a void in the category of silly little nothings like Kyle had just described. For some reason, it left a hollow space inside of her.

“No,” she answered quietly, looking down at the candy cane in her hand.

“No?” Kyle echoed, tipping the box to see if any more candies were inside.

Isabel shook her head.

Then something shifted in Kyle’s tone, a kindness and understanding she hadn’t expected from him. “Well, we can’t have that,” he said gently. “I have an idea. Let’s make this our Christmas tradition.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“This – decorating candy canes,” he announced triumphantly. With that, he turned the box over and shook it; nothing fell out. “We’re all done.”

“We’re done?” she said excitedly.

“Only took us –” he glanced at his watch – “two and a half hours. It’s not even two o’clock yet. I still have time to go home and get some sleep before the pageant starts.”

The guilt Isabel had felt earlier rushed forward again. “Kyle, about the pageant. I shouldn’t have pushed you into it. You don’t have to do it.”

“But I already have the outfit,” he replied cheerfully. “And where else am I going to wear it?”

She snorted a small laugh.

“I’ll be here. Ten o’clock, right?”

As he rose to leave, she reached out and put a hand on his arm, which seemed to render him entirely immobile.

“Honestly,” she said. “I would rather you not do this, since you didn’t want to in the first place.”

Kyle was staring at her hand on his arm. “I don’t mind,” he said mechanically.

Isabel pulled her hand away. “It’s up to you,” she said. “If you want to come, great. If you don’t, I’ll understand.”

She and the sheriff’s son held each other’s gaze for a long moment, until it started to become uncomfortable. Odd, she thought. Talking with Kyle had never made her uneasy, but now it was. Or maybe “uneasy” wasn’t the right word…

“Do you want me to walk you home?” he finally asked.

Isabel shook her head, her blonde curls swinging with the motion. “No, I drove.” She rose, paused, then put her arms around him and gave him a tight hug. “Thank you for helping me,” she said against his ear.

Then she pulled away, gave him a smile, and left him staring after her as she left the park. On the way to her car, she realized that even though she’d given Kyle the choice to show up for the pageant or not, she was suddenly hoping more than anything that he would.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Do you like candy canes, Kyle?”

Her voice was soft and husky as she slowly twirled the red-and-white striped cane before her face.

“Do you like to…lick them?”

He gulped, swallowed hard, watched as she slowly peeled the cellophane wrapper over the crook of the cane, her dark eyes never leaving his.

“Would you like me to lick yours?”

With that, her tongue slid from between her lips and slowly caressed the candy cane from its base to the peak of its sharp curve. Kyle groaned, his throat having gone dry.

“Or would you rather lick mine?”

Before he could even think of tasting hers, the alarm clock beside the couch blared a rock-and-roll Christmas tune. Kyle jumped, his heart thudding in his chest, and immediately dropped to the living room carpet and started counting off push-ups. He struggled to clear his mind. Had he really been dreaming about Isabel Evans molesting an innocent candy cane?

Or had she been molesting him?

Too many late hours spent in the park, seeing candy cane after candy cane, with Isabel as company. That was bound to give someone strange dreams for a week.

A giggle came from the kitchen. “Well, that must’ve been some dream.”

Oh, no – Tess! What had she heard? Kyle hoped that she hadn’t heard him moaning in his sleep. There’s no way he would ever live that down. Immediately he popped to his feet, then hurriedly jerked on his robe; she didn’t need to see what kind of dream it had been. Best to divert attention.

“What are you doing?” he asked, crinkling his nose.

“Making stuffing,” she said simply, using a large wooden spoon to stir something in an equally large bowl.

“For breakfast?” he groaned.

“For dinner,” she clarified.

For a moment, fear raced through Kyle that he’d overslept and missed the pageant. Quickly, he grabbed his alarm clock – it was only nine. He hadn’t overslept, but he was in danger of being late. He didn’t want to be late again. He wanted to try to do his best. For some reason, it seemed important. If not to him, than maybe to Isabel.

“I have to get going,” he said. “Did you do what I asked?”

Tess motioned toward the back of the couch, where his elf pants lay folded neatly. “All ready to go.”

Kyle grinned, grabbed the pants and headed for the shower. “Thanks, Tess, I owe you one.”

He never once stopped to wonder why Tess was making stuffing for dinner, or why the kitchen was full of smells he wasn’t accustomed to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Sweetie, you look beautiful,” Isabel said, straightening the little girl’s pink ballet outfit.

“My daddy bought this,” the girl beamed.

“Your daddy did a wonderful job, Sydney. Now go take your place with the others!” she said enthusiastically.

Isabel watched the little girl skip off to join the other children and felt a tug of sympathy for her. She didn’t know why, but she sensed that there might be something wrong with Brody Davis’s daughter. Christmas was supposed to be about happiness and joy, not sick children. Isabel hoped she was wrong, hoped that Sydney’s pale complexion was genetic and not something more.

Isabel pushed that thought aside and took one more stroll across the stage to make sure that everything was in its place. The crowd was filing into the outdoor venue and she felt a small surge of nervousness. Strange, since she’d been planning this event since September. Then again, she was used to hiding from public attention rather than seeking it.

A couple of grade-school age girls came forward with empty candy cane baskets and got refills. Isabel helped them, then looked out at the arriving crowd. Near the huge bon fire that had been built, she saw Maria and Liz talking intently; Maria looked distraught. Isabel gave a snort – Maria had probably found out that Michael was getting her a bumper for Christmas.

Speaking of the man, he mounted the stairs, then quietly announced that most people and been seated and they were about ready to start. Isabel straightened her sparkly red sweater and stepped forward to grab the mike.

“Hi, everyone,” she said, her voice echoing over the public address speakers. “Welcome to this year's holiday pageant. I'm Isabel Evans. Some of you know me as the director of this pageant, others may know me as the president of the hunger drive, and still others might know me from the many holiday events at the nursing home, and some of you know me as...the Christmas Nazi.”

With that, she looked over her shoulder at Michael, who gave her the look of one who has been nabbed.

“But enough about me,” she said to the crowd. “Let's feast our eyes on the cutest darn kids in America. Welcome to Roswell's 23rd annual holiday pageant.”

Everyone applauded as the children stepped forward and began their performance. Isabel backed out of the limelight and watched them, delighted at how well they had rehearsed. Her eyes drifted to the crowd to see if they were enjoying it as well, and then she spied Liz whispering in Max’s ear. A warning went off inside of Isabel’s head, but before she could pay it any mind, something jingling to her left drew her attention.

One by one, the elf choir filed in, their song books in their hands. She gave them an appreciative smile as they took their places, but that smile slid into something a little more beautifully anxious as the last elf claimed his spot.

Despite fear of public ridicule, despite being threatened to have his balls frozen and despite having been given a reprieve less than eight hours before, Kyle Valenti had donned his elf outfit and was standing proudly amongst his fellow elves.

And Isabel found herself surprisingly overjoyed that he’d shown up.

tbc

***Used lines from ARCC

[Midwest Max]

As promised I will answer fb later


Part Seven

A parade of pageant-viewers marched past Isabel, offering praise for another show well done. She beamed at all of them, truly touched that her perfectionist ways had once again proven vital to a perfect Christmas show. This was the reason she tried so hard, so that people would truly appreciate the pageant, that they’d walk away feeling like they’d witnessed something spectacular.

Although, somehow she was starting to get an inkling that maybe people weren’t so hard to please. Maybe it was enough that she tried, not that she succeeded on such a grand scale. Then again, Isabel wasn’t quite ready to abandon all of her dictatorial Christmas ways – after all, they had proven full proof so far.

But when she turned to face her elf choir, their faces read otherwise. None of the men looked at her fondly, like she’d led them to see the light of her ways. In fact, they all looked a little peeved with her. Well, except for the guy on the left, the one she hadn’t expected to show up.

“Guys,” she began cheerfully, “you did a wonderful job today!”

Someone snorted sarcastically and she felt a stab within.

“I got each of you a little something,” she continued, ignoring the elf and retrieving a small bag, from which she produced a stack of envelopes. “I’m not a fan of gift certificates, but since I don’t know any of you well enough to get a proper gift, that is the road I took.”

She walked the line of elves, handing each an envelope.

“I hope I can buy beer with this,” one elf muttered to another, “because after this week I really need it.”

Isabel felt another jab of guilt, but kept her smile in place. “So, thank you for another great year. Hope we can do this again next year!”

With that, the elves disbursed, with someone mumbling, “I wouldn’t count on it.”

As the group trudged down the stage stairs in an unmerry jingling of bells, Isabel deflated. She’d ruined their Christmas. By being so demanding that her Christmas be perfect, she’d made theirs not. For the first time since she’d become the Christmas Nazi, she felt horribly selfish.

“Aw, don’t listen to them,” a voice behind her said.

Isabel turned and found Kyle there, still wearing his striped elf hat. Unlike the other elves, he was smiling at her.

“I’m an awful person, aren’t I?” she asked, frowning.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Awful? No, I wouldn’t say awful.”

“But I’ve been pretty unbearable, haven’t I?”

“I wouldn’t say unbearable.”

She sighed. “Then what would you say, Kyle?”

He seemed cornered, then offered another disarming grin. “I would say that this was the best Christmas pageant I ever participated in.”

Isabel tipped her head to the side, silently begging for honesty. She felt that on some level he wasn’t going to be as brutally honest with her as he had been the previous night.

“What’s in the envelope?” he asked, holding up the gift card and giving it a little wiggle.

“You’ll have to open it and see,” she said, deciding to let his obvious evasion of the subject slide.

“But I didn’t get you anything.” His brow furrowed. “In fact, I didn’t get anybody anything.”

Isabel shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You didn’t need to get me anything. It’s just a thank you for helping out with the show.” Her words felt hollow to her – she’d been mean to the elves for a week and now expected a gift card to make everything all right?

“Hey,” Kyle said softly, stepping forward. “You okay?”

The glamorous smile returned. “Yeah, I’m fine. So, I guess I should help with boxing up the props. You wanna stay and help?”

“I can’t,” he replied regretfully. “First play-off starts at one.”

“Ah, that’s right. It’s tradition.”

“And I have to stop and get the M&M’s before I get home. I asked Tess to do it this morning and she said something about getting my own damn M&M’s and went back to doing whatever it is she’s doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s been banging around in the kitchen all night. I don’t know what she’s up to, but she made it pretty damn clear where I could stick my bag of M&M’s.”

Isabel laughed softly.

“But, you know, maybe later we could –”

Before Kyle could finish his sentence, Isabel felt someone take her by the arm. Irritation raced through her because she had the feeling Kyle was about to say something horribly important, but when she whirled in the direction of the intrusion she found her brother looking at her anxiously. There was something new in his eyes, a spark of hope?

“I need to talk to you,” Max said in a hurry.

“Okay,” she said, adding just a hint of condescension into her tone. Butting in like that…

Max’s eyes shifted to Kyle and held his gaze for a long moment. Kyle gave in first, his face falling into a mask of disappointment, then he sighed and started walking toward the stage steps.

“I’ll talk to you later, Iz,” he called over his shoulder.

Isabel watched him go and immediately wanted to pummel her brother. Until she remembered his predicament with the accident.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to keep the abruptness from her tone.

“I think I’ve – I think Liz has helped me find a way to restore the balance,” Max said in a hurry. “I need to talk with the group, with you and Tess and Michael.”

A fist twisted in Isabel’s gut. Why didn’t she like the sound of this?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle scurried through the front door, his footsteps echoed by a frenzied jingle of holiday bells. As he kicked off the elf shoes, he could see his father already crashed in his favorite corner of the couch.

“Did it start already?” Kyle called, hustling carefully down the hallway, fearing he’d lose his footing in his elf stockings.

“Not yet,” Jim replied, his eyes shifting to the clock above the TV. “You’ve got four minutes to change and get out here.”

Four minutes! Kyle tried to pick up his pace, but his feet slid in opposite directions and he did a quick swimmer’s crawl to right himself.

“Here, go long!” he yelled to his father, lobbing the yellow bag of M&M’s toward the couch.

Jim caught it without really looking up, opened the bag and grabbed a handful. “Hurry up, Kyle, you’re down to three minutes.”

“How can that be? It didn’t take me a whole minute to move from the front door to where I am now!”

“Less talk, more walk.”

Cursing softly to himself, Kyle finally pulled to a stop by the kitchen door to take off his stockings. As he tugged on the annoyingly thin nylon, he realized that there was an awful lot of angry banging coming from the stove area. He successfully removed one stocking, then started pulling on the other.

“Hey, Tess,” he said in greeting.

The petite alien whirled around and without greeting asked, “Do we have any more chairs?”

Kyle shrugged. “Not really sure.” His final sock popped free and he sprinted for his room. “Dad!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Get the chips and dip!”

“Already got ‘em,” Jim called in return.

In his old room, now Tess’s room, Kyle pulled off the elf costume and let it hit the floor in a wad. Then he reached into the closet, pushed all of Tess’s clothes out of the way and found a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. Hurriedly, he dressed, then scooted for the living room as he dragged his zipper upward –

Just as the kicker was placing the ball on the tee. With a leap, Kyle jumped over the back of the couch and landed at the opposite end from his father, who gave him a grin and handed him the bag of M&M’s. Kyle took it happily. This is what Christmas was about – he and his dad, camped out watching the NFL. The Valenti Tradition.

Though usually the Valenti Tradition didn’t include the racket – or the swearing – coming from the kitchen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isabel had been walking for an hour, trying to get some perspective on the events of the last week. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, so the streets were full of last-minute shoppers, bustling here and there with bags and stacks of boxes. Most people seemed to be in good humor, which pleased her. So much good cheer all around.

Then why did she feel sort of empty inside?

For starters, there was always an emotional let-down once the pageant was over. All of those months of preparation, to have the whole thing over in an hour and a half. But it was worth it…wasn’t it? Maybe it was worth the work, but maybe it didn’t really mean as much as she wanted it to.

After all, how important was it that she’d had to settle for silver garland instead of red? Had any harm come of it? Had anyone even noticed? In the grander scheme of things, what did it matter?

Isabel’s dark eyes drifted to the street lights, their poles wound in red garland. Roswell had a lot of street lights and it would take tons of garland to wrap them. With a tiny stab of indignation, she realized that the Chamber of Commerce had probably wiped out the stores, leaving her pageant red garlandless. But maybe that was okay. Maybe it didn’t matter.

Maybe none of it mattered. Because on the other side of town, her brother was sneaking into his boss’s house to cure Sydney Davis of cancer. Inside, Isabel felt insignificant and small. She worried about trivial things while Max bore the weight of and responsibility for the world on his shoulders. People lived or died based on the decisions he made. Nothing she did would ever be that important.

She understood that Max needed to clear his conscience, but she worried that he might expose them for what they were. After all, Brody Davis was already hunting for aliens. If he were to find Max in his home, curing his daughter’s illness, then the cat would definitely be out of the bag. It was an awful, vulnerable feeling.

Isabel didn’t really want to be alone, and since her parents were at a Christmas party, she’d found herself wandering. She wanted someone to talk to. Michael was out of the question because he was still angry over Max’s decision to cure Sydney against Michael’s wishes. And Max was otherwise engaged. Maybe Tess…

But as Isabel rounded the corner of the Valenti’s street, she stopped short. A red Jetta – Maria’s red Jetta – was parked in the drive. Isabel’s brow furrowed as she wondered why Maria would be at Kyle’s house, then she noticed movement through the kitchen window. It was Kyle and Tess in the kitchen, facing the window, perhaps washing dishes. They were both laughing and Isabel knew that she couldn’t interrupt their evening with her glum mood. After all, they deserved some Christmas perfection, too.

So she turned on her heel and headed for home. About halfway there, she realized that it probably wasn’t Maria, but Amy Deluca who had been at the Valenti’s. The thought relieved her…then immediately scared her. Why should she care who was there?

Why had she been feeling a little jealous?

Isabel made herself push that thought out of her head. It was ridiculous, really. Kyle was just a dumb jock.

Wasn’t he?

Before she could argue with herself, she found that she’d returned home. Max’s Jeep was absent from the drive and that worried her – it was a short trip to Brody’s house and he should have been home by now. Sitting on the stone wall beside the drive, she decided to wait for him.

After an hour, she was cold enough that she needed to go inside. Worried, she got ready for bed, but couldn’t sleep. She must have fallen asleep at some point, because a loud thud beneath her room awoke her.

Brushing the sleep from her eyes, she jumped from the bed and hurried down the hallway. A glance at that the clock revealed it to be nearly five in the morning. Panic spurred her on, caution warned her to take the steps slowly and soundlessly.

Once she was on the bottom floor, she raced for Max’s room and threw open the door. The window was gaping open and she breathlessly searched for the intruder. She didn’t have to look far.

On the floor beneath the window, Michael was cradling Max’s head in his lap. Both were dressed in hospital scrubs and Max appeared to be unconscious. Michael turned frightened, stricken eyes in her direction and all of her remaining concerns for a perfect Christmas rushed out the door.

“Isabel,” Michael pleaded. “Help him.”

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Eight

“Here, drink this.” Isabel held the cup of tea out to Max, who by now was awake and lying on his bed.

Max carefully pushed himself to a reclining position and Isabel steadied the cup for him until he had a good hold on it. He took a couple of sips, then let his head fall back against the headboard.

“Where’s Michael?” he asked, his voice sounding congested and tired.

“He left about an hour ago. He said something about needing to buff his bumper. I tried not to put that into any other context than the literal.”

Max snorted a laugh, then sighed. “I’m sorry, Iz.”

She took the cup from him and placed it on his nightstand. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because this one is going to be public,” he said, rubbing his brow. “There’s no way it’s going to go unnoticed.”

Isabel looked down at his comforter. She had already thought of that, but really didn’t know what they could do about it now. In truth, she was still amazed at the story Michael had told her, about a hurried trip to Phoenix, about her brother staggering from bed to bed healing child after child in an attempt to rid his conscience of one man’s death. It was like saving one little girl wasn’t enough, like one act of kindness and mercy wasn’t sufficient to release him from his hell.

Like Max needed to pay above and beyond what should be expected of others.

“I couldn’t help it,” he said softly.

Isabel looked at him, saw a haunted, lost look in his eyes.

“I’ve been given this gift,” he explained. “Why would I be given it if I weren’t supposed to use it?”

He was searching so hard for answers, for absolution, and she had nothing to give him. For lack of a better solution to his turmoil, she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

“I think you were very brave,” she began. Max looked away, apparently not wanting to believe that. “I think what you can do is miraculous.”

“Miraculous?” He shook his head. “There is no such thing as a miracle, Iz.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Oh, I think maybe there is. It’s Christmas Eve, Max. You healed a ward of sick children. If that doesn’t scream miracle, I don’t know what does.”

He looked at her in confusion for a moment, then a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Maybe she was right – and maybe the public would see it that way, too.

“Listen,” Isabel said. “Mom’s going to come get you up for breakfast soon. Are you going to be able to make it?” She left the reasoning unsaid – because it would be bad for their parents to see Max in such a depleted state.

Max nodded and pushed himself to a seated position. He grimaced and for a moment Isabel thought he was going to pitch over sideways. But he steadied himself, his mind and body exhausted.

She rose from the bed and went to his closet. Rummaging inside, she pulled out a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt and a gray thermal undershirt since he seemed to be cold.

“Go take a shower,” she said as she laid the clothes beside him on the bed. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Call it holiday optimism, but she really believed that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle awoke naturally, without the blaring intrusion of his alarm clock. Rolling lazily onto his side, he saw that it was already nearing ten o’clock – the alarm should have gone off long ago. Panicked into action, he sat upright quickly, his bed hair sticking straight toward the ceiling. He picked up the alarm, gave it a shake, then realized that someone had turned it off.

While his sleep-muddled mind tried to remember if he’d been the one to turn off his alarm, his eyes settled on a package on the coffee table. The box was wrapped in cheery foil paper, a bright red metallic ribbon tied around it. A card that simply stated “Kyle” was hanging from the ribbon.

Tess.

Slowly the events of the prior night came back to him. Amy Deluca entertaining her father until the wee hours of the morning, Tess cooking a feast and playing hostess to all of them. Warmth filled his heart when he thought of the joy on his father’s face, of the way he’d laughed more freely than Kyle could remember him doing in a long time. It was all because of Tess.

And now she’d left him a gift.

Kyle picked up the shirt-sized box and gave it a jiggle. Nothing came from within other than what sounded like the rustling of paper. His inner child wanted to rip open the package and see what was inside, but another side of him wanted to do something else.

Staggering from the couch, he replaced the gift and sleepily made his way to the shower. All around him the house was silent and that made him happy – there was no more peaceful feeling than a whole family sleeping in after a truly wonderful party.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Was this really how Max visited Liz all the time? Isabel frowned as she threw her long leg over the brick wall outside of Liz’s bedroom. Pausing, she looked down at the street below and shuddered – regardless if Liz was home or not, she was not leaving the same way she came. Especially considering her poor choice of boots that morning. In semi-disgust, she wiped her hands on her jeans and then turned to peep into Liz’s window.

To Isabel’s delight, Liz was indeed home and sitting on her bed, putting the finishing touches on wrapping a gift. When Isabel knocked on the window, Liz looked up first in excited expectation, then in surprise. Inside, Isabel snorted to herself, knowing their friend had been hoping to see Max instead.

Liz crossed the room and pushed the window open. “Isabel,” she said. “This is a surprise.”

“Can I come in?” Isabel asked. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Liz looked concerned as she nodded and stepped out of the alien’s way. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes and no,” Isabel replied, shrugging casually. “I want you to know what happened.”

Liz listened with round dark eyes as Isabel relayed the story of Max and Michael’s trip to Arizona the night before.

“I’m sorry,” Liz said, taking a subconscious step backward, away from Isabel, away from the potential wrath of the Christmas Nazi. “When I suggested he heal Sydney, I had no idea it would lead to this.”

Isabel calmed her with a gentle smile. “Neither did he. Anyway, I wanted to thank you.”

At that, Liz stopped retreating, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Thank me?”

“Yes. Because despite being a little depressed and his generally mopey self, he’s at peace with himself now. I couldn’t give him that. He couldn’t even give it to himself. Only you, Liz, have the power to heal him. Whether the two of you want to admit it or not.”

Liz’s expression went from wary, to something a little more dreamy, to embarrassed. Clearing her throat, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Um, thank you, Isabel. That means a lot to me.”

Isabel gave a nonchalant shrug, slipping back into glib mode. “Well, it is the season for giving. Listen, mind if I use the stairs? I’m not climbing back down that ladder.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Downstairs in the CrashDown dining room, Kyle’s hands were immediately warmed as he took the Styrofoam coffee cup from the waitress behind the counter. Sweet, wonderful coffee! His eyes practically rolled back in his head as he took a sip. He’d managed to leave the house without disturbing anybody – and that had included bypassing the coffee maker.

“You, my dear waitress, are a life saver,” he said to the young girl behind the counter, who blushed a deep pink at having been called “dear” by the one-time captain of the football team. He left a couple of bills on the bar and told her too keep the change.

Now, off on his mission –

“Kyle?”

Immediately, the sip of coffee in Kyle’s stomach did a somersault, jumped up and slammed into his heart, making it miss a beat and then thud. He quickly swallowed down his sudden nervousness and turned to face the voice.

“Hey, Isabel!” he said cheerfully, hoping his hair was lying down. And that his clothes were neat. He didn’t have residual sleep goo in the corners of his eyes, did he?

Why was he all of a sudden worried about these things?

Isabel pointed to the cup of coffee in his hand. “That looks good. I think I’ll get me a cup.”

“I’ll get it!” Kyle chirped, then cringed that he’d appeared overly eager.

She didn’t seem to notice, however, so he hailed down his waitress and requested another cup. The girl’s eyes shifted to Isabel and he knew in that moment she understood she didn’t really stand a chance with the ex-captain of the football team.

“Leave room for lots of sugar,” Kyle called after the waitress, who appeared not to hear him. He gave a shrug and turned back to Isabel. “So, what brings you here? I didn’t see you when I walked in.” Was his fly undone? Had she been sitting in a corner somewhere the whole time, looking at him with his fly undone? It would be too obvious if he snuck a hand down there to find out, so he was just going to try not to worry about it.

“I was upstairs talking to Liz,” Isabel said, oblivious to his anxiety.

“Really?” Kyle’s nose crinkled. “Why?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you later.” She took her cup from the waitress and watched as Kyle dropped a couple more bills on the counter. “You’re not staying?”

“No, I have to go do something.”

Was he imagining it she looked a little crestfallen? Or had she just spied a dab of toothpaste in the corner of his lip?

“Maybe you’d like to come along,” he offered, trying to keep the importance of her answer out of his tone.

“Where are you going?”

“Alien Artifacts, just down the street.”

Isabel grimaced. The second-hand shop.

“You don’t have to,” Kyle amended quickly. “I just thought maybe if you weren’t doing anything –”

“I’d love to come.”

He stopped short, sure he’d heard wrong. “You would?”

“Sure. Let’s go.” With that, she picked up her cup and started for the door.

Kyle blinked a couple of times, then followed her, stopping long enough to check his zipper while her back was to him.

Out on the street, they walked slowly, sipping their coffee, talking about stupid things. In truth, Kyle did most of the talking, which wasn’t really talking at all but nervous babble. He mused that not long ago she intimidated him because he knew he stood no chance of ever going out with her; he was beginning to realize that now she intimidated him because maybe he did stand a chance.

If he didn’t blow it by acting like a putz.

“So, what are you looking for?” Isabel asked as he held open the door to Alien Artifacts for her.

“Tess’s gift,” he replied.

Two feet into the store, Isabel stopped in her tracks and he could read her expression clearly – he was going to buy Tess’s present in a second-hand store? He was going to get her a used present?

Kyle chuckled and took her by the arm, savored the feel of her leather coat beneath his hand. “Come on – it will be fine.”

They wandered through the store, stopping long enough to point out the old, the really used and the totally tacky. At one point, Kyle pointed to a deer head mounted on the wall and made a remark about Santa being Rudolphless this year. At first he thought Isabel was offended, but then he caught her giggling out of the corner of his eye.

Finally they wound up in the furniture section. Some of it was rather worn and neither of them could imagine ever taking it into their homes. But there was a collection of mismatched dining room chairs off to one side and Kyle took his time trying out each one. He narrowed it down to three, then two, then one. Proudly he stood over it.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“What is it?” Isabel inquired, eyeing the oak chair skeptically.

“It’s a damn chair for her to sit in.”

Isabel’s eyebrows rose quickly as she tried to put meaning to Kyle buying Tess a dining room chair for Christmas. After a few moments, it dawned on her – giving Tess a chair of her own was a way of making her stay at the Valenti’s permanent. It was a way to tell her she belonged, that she was now part of the family. It filled all of Isabel’s gift-giving criteria – it was personal, thoughtful and something she would never get for herself. Kyle Valenti got that.

So she gave him a big grin and told him what she thought of his gift. “I think it’s perfect.”

tbc

I paraphrased a few lines from ARCC

[Midwest Max]

Only one more part


Part Nine

“He – what? Did you say he healed a ward full of sick children?” Kyle blinked, pretended that his eye twitch was a result of the sun shining through the windshield of the Mustang.

In the seat beside him, Isabel smiled and he could just feel down to his bones how proud she was of her brother. “Yeah. Well, most of them. Until security came in. But I guess he’d passed out by then.”

“Passed out?”

“From exhaustion. He just kept going until he was so depleted he passed out.”

Kyle blinked again and struggled really hard to keep the scowl from his face. Friggin’ Saint Evans. Going all noble and curing a ward full of kids. No wonder Liz had dumped Kyle for him. Who could compete with that?

Isabel’s expression had turned wistful. “He’s special,” she said quietly. “Max is special.”

Kyle glanced at her, then back to the road. He’d coerced her into coming home with him, on account that he needed someone to help him lift Tess’s chair out of the convertible so he wouldn’t scratch the paint. She’d fallen for that and hadn’t even protested when he’d explained he’d have to leave the roof down on a day that was a tad brisk. The best part – eventually he’d have to give her a ride back to the CrashDown to get her car and would get to spend even more time with her. Not that that mattered or anything…

He peeked at her again and found that she was still looking pensive. “You know,” he began. “Max isn’t the only one who’s special.”

As soon as she turned to meet his gaze, Kyle felt a hot rush of panic. Damn his loose mouth! Although she didn’t look like she was about to blast him, she did look confused by his remark.

“Um, I mean, well,” he stammered, “all of you aliens have special gifts…”

She raised an eyebrow, seemed amused, but didn’t comment as she looked out of the windshield again. Then her brow furrowed. “Kyle, isn’t that your house?” she asked, following the house until she’d nearly twisted around in her seat as the car slid past the drive.

Kyle jabbed the brakes and the tires chirped on the pavement as the car jolted to a stop. The chair in the backseat tipped forward then rocked back into its place. He gave a nervous laugh and put the car into reverse.

“I wanted to back in,” he covered, using the I-meant-to-do-that tone.

This time Isabel didn’t hide her laugh – she pretty much guffawed in his face. Which made him laugh in return. The engine whirred as he backed the little red car into the drive, past the sheriff’s SUV, so that the back bumper was close to the garage door.

“I want to put it in the garage until I have a chance to clean it up,” he said, climbing from behind the wheel.

“I could do that in about two seconds if you wanted,” she replied, joining him at the side of the car.

Kyle shook his head. “No. I want to do it. I want it to be special.”

The smile she gave him could have warmed a thousand hearts. Before he let himself get lost in it, he hoisted the heavy wooden garage door upward, the springs groaning in protest. Stale air rolled out lazily, causing Isabel to cough and Kyle to wave his hand before his face.

“We don’t use the garage for much other than storing crap,” he said unapologetically.

Isabel’s dark eyes scanned over the contents of the aging structure, took in old football pads, every bike Kyle had ever owned from rusty tricycle to new-looking mountain bike, boxes with clothes haphazardly tossed inside and trying to escape, and in the back corner –

An old artificial Christmas tree adorned with tube socks.

Kyle’s eyes fell on the tree at the same time Isabel’s stopped there. His first thought was to be grateful that he hadn’t decided to dry his tighty whities there as well, then he dissolved into a blushing wad of embarrassment. He considered explaining the significant role the tree played in his and the sheriff’s lives, but he knew that he would only stammer out some kind of gibberish and she’d think he was even more of a dolt. So he chose to ignore the fact that the tree from years past appeared to have been decorated by Fruit of the Loom.

“So, you ready?” he asked, turning his attention instead to the chair in the back of his car.

“Sure,” Isabel said, sounding a little too chipper, a little too much like she wanted to laugh.

Reaching into the car, they both grabbed the same chair leg, his hand falling over hers. Awkward, his palm suddenly threatening to burst forth with a torrent of nervous sweat, he pulled his hand back then chided himself for appearing like he didn’t want to touch her. Which…he did.

No, no he didn’t. He did not want to touch Isabel Evans. All he needed was help with the chair. All he wanted was someone to prevent him from ruining the paint job. That was it. That was all.

Until she gave a nervous laugh, one that immediately put them on the same plane, one that said, “Yeah, that was awkward, wasn’t it?”

Kyle let himself echo a chuckle. “How about I get the left legs and you get the right ones?” he offered, secretly hoping that they’d bump knuckles or something.

“Okay,” she said, tucking an escaped lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

This time they didn’t interfere with one another and together they lifted the chair over the side of the car.

“Let’s put it over there by the work bench,” he said. “Watch your step.”

Crossing the short distance of the garage was not unlike trying to cross a minefield. A rollerblade here, a stray garden hose there. A stumble, a curse, a feminine laugh. Then they were by the work bench, easing the oak chair to the floor.

One of them should have let go and let the other guide the chair, but neither of them did. As a result, they both dipped forward at the same time, knocking skulls. Kyle felt a teeth-rattling thump, his eyes crossed momentarily, then he realized that they both were righting themselves at the same time, too. In the brief moment before they were fully straightened and before he could prevent it, Kyle’s face brushed hers, his lips grazing her temple.

Involuntarily, his eyes slid shut, savoring the feel of her soft skin against his lips, the scent of her shampoo delicately tickling his nose. His stomach dropped to his knees and made them tremble and for one nano-second he totally lost himself in her.

But reality came crashing back in the form of an intrusive thumping in his head. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Isabel was rubbing her forehead.

“God, I’m sorry,” he said, proud that his voice came out without a tremor. Sure, he sounded like his insides hadn’t turned to jelly. How he felt was another story.

“I’m okay,” she grimaced, though beneath it was a smile. “Too bad I don’t have Max’s ability heal.”

For a reason unbeknownst to him – perhaps due to the fact he’d had barely a taste only moments before - Kyle suddenly found his bravery and blurted, “But maybe I have that ability.”

Isabel dropped her hand. “You do?”

“Sure.” And before he could lose his nerve, he took her face between his hands and placed a kiss against the goose egg rising on her forehead.

But it wasn’t a short kiss. He pressed his lips to her skin and lingered there, silence suddenly filling the musty garage. Time came to a halt and amongst the old Tonka trucks and saw horses, in the shadow of a Christmas tree decorated with foot apparel, Kyle stopped fighting what he’d been feeling over the past week.

He wanted to kiss her on the lips, wanted to tell her how pretty he thought she was, but she was looking at him with such vulnerability that all he could do was give her a toothy grin.

“See?” he managed past his thumping heart, infusing humor into his tone. “It’s all better, isn’t it?”

Her smile wavered for a moment, then she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s better.”

“Excellent! Let’s go inside and see if anyone made lunch.”

As he closed the garage door behind them, he could feel her eyes on him and a seed of doubt started somewhere in the back of his mind. Had he done something he shouldn’t have? What was she feeling? Did she want to kiss him as badly as he wanted to kiss her?

All of the way to the front door, he thought these things as she followed mutely behind him. Their awkwardness was alleviated by the fact that both the sheriff and Tess were home. Jim was on the couch with the remote in his hand and Tess was in the hallway pulling on her coat.

“There you are,” Tess said to Kyle. Her lips turned into a frown as she glanced toward his unopened Christmas gift. “You didn’t want to open your present?”

“I do,” he said. “But not until you open yours.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked to Isabel for confirmation. “I have a gift?”

“You do,” Isabel said with a laugh.

“Later,” Kyle stalled, knowing the chair needed a good dose of Old English. “Where are you off to?”

“Just a couple of last-minute things,” Tess said, straightening her scarf. “I’ll be back in about an hour.” Her blue eyes drifted upward and she let out a girlish giggle.

“What?” Kyle said, his brow furrowing.

“Up there,” Tess said, pointing toward the ceiling.

He looked up, but saw nothing. “What?”

“Oh,” Isabel said softly beside him, prompting him to look again.

If they’d been in a movie, the coincidence couldn’t have been any cheesier. Above them hung a sprig of mistletoe.

“You stopped right under it,” Tess laughed. “No one has done that in the month since I put it up. I guess you’re supposed to kiss her.”

Kyle’s cheeks turned pink. Yeah, he wanted to kiss Isabel – but not with an audience for the first time. One glance at her showed that she was living the exact same horror.

“It’s tradition, Kyle,” Jim called from the living room, just a tad too gleefully.

Tess crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not leaving until you do.”

Kyle gulped, met Isabel’s eyes with apology, then leaned forward and barely brushed her lips with his own. It was all he hoped it to be, save for the fact that he wanted more. When he stepped back, he saw a light blush on her smooth cheeks.

“There, that wasn’t so hard,” Tess chirped. Was she really that oblivious to how uncomfortable they both were? “See you guys later.”

When she was gone, Kyle glanced at his father and found that the man had returned to the sporting event of the day. Whether he was listening or not, Kyle wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said to Isabel.

“I’m not,” she said, then corrected herself. “I mean, don’t be. You know, tradition, right?”

He laughed lightly. “Yeah, tradition.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “So, um, I guess I should take you back to get your car.”

“Okay.” She looked away. Disappointed? Embarrassed? Just wanted the hell out of there?

Kyle looked at his father again, then got an idea. “Does your family do anything on Christmas Eve, Iz?”

She gave a light shrug. “We go to midnight service.”

“Anything during the day?”

She shook her head.

A spark of joy lit deep inside of him. “Good. I have an idea, but you have to answer one question.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Do you own any flannel?”

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Ten

Max Evans was concentrating on his bedside lamp when his door suddenly swung inward and in rushed his sister, her blond curls bouncing behind her.

“I need a shirt,” she said hurriedly, going to his closet and whipping through his wardrobe, the hangers zipping along the pole.

Max raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

A few mumbles later, Isabel produced a black and gray flannel shirt. “Can I borrow this?” she asked, whirling toward her brother.

Max gave a shrug of indifference, then watched in slight horror as she made her way to his dresser and jerked open his sock and underwear drawer.

Isabel waded through Max’s meticulously folded boxer shorts (seriously, what teenage boy kept his drawers in such immaculate order?) – and the rolls of socks, plus a picture of Liz Parker, until her fingers touched what she was looking for. Snatching the white undershirt, she whirled again and held up the garment.

“And this too?” she asked Max, who was watching her silently perplexed from his bed.

Max’s eyes drifted to the wife beater, then he gave another shrug.

“I’m going to be away this afternoon,” she said in a hurry, holding the shirts to her nose to make sure they were clean and not something he’d just stuffed in a drawer or back on a hanger instead of throwing into the hamper. “Tell Mom and Dad I’ll meet them at midnight service.”

Max looked at the lamp again, his expression sort of lost. Isabel stopped short then, the confiscated shirts forgotten for the moment.

“Hey,” she said softly, going to stand by his bed. “You all right?”

He looked at her for a moment, then raised his hand toward the lamp on his nightstand. His face contorted into a mask of concentration as he held his breath, but nothing happened. Releasing the air in his lungs, he slumped visibly.

“I can’t,” he said quietly.

Isabel looked at the lamp and realized that he was trying to light it by using his powers. He was so weak from his exertion the night before that he couldn’t even throw a few amps to a 40 watt bulb. She frowned and sat down beside him on the bed, put a reassuring hand on his arm.

“I don’t think it’s permanent,” she soothed. She needed to believe what she said was true – God wouldn’t take a gift away from someone who could work miracles. “You’re just so tired right now, Max. Give it a little time.”

She gave him a reassuring smile, but nothing cracked his mournful demeanor.

“Okay, look,” she began, trying to be positive. “Sitting here in this room isn’t doing you any good. I’m going out for a while. Maybe you should go out, too.”

Max gave a little snort. “Where would I go?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a wink. “Maybe you could go thank the person who helped you get rid of your ghost.”

The same person he’d claimed had broken his heart too badly for him to ever trust again, but who somehow still warranted a residence next to his boxer briefs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Watch your step,” Kyle said. “There’s a box of magazines to your left. Oops – that’s going to leave a mark!”

He was walking backward, leading Tess by the hands into the garage of clutter. Her eyes were closed tightly as promised and she’d just managed to bang her shin on an old amplifier the sheriff had used in the days when he had wanted to be a rock star.

“You okay?” Kyle asked, genuine concern in his voice despite his earlier joking.

“I’m fine,” Tess said patiently. “How much farther is it?”

He could read her tone loud and clear – I’m fine now, but one more smack to the shin and I’m outta here.

“Not far,” he replied. “One small step to the left. And there you go. But wait – before you open your eyes, I want to say something.”

Tess’s eyebrows drew together over her closed eyes. “Okay.” Her voice sounded uncertain and a little confused.

Kyle looked down at her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I just want you to know that you’ll always have a place here, Tess. I know that maybe in the beginning I gave you a hard time about being here, but that was all due to my problems and had nothing to do with you. I’m glad my dad took you in. I’m glad that Max Evans finally did something I approve of and dropped you at my door. Because I’m glad you’re here, I bought this for your Christmas present. Open your eyes.”

Tess’s blue eyes popped open and fixed on the newly cleaned dining room chair, a bright red bow affixed to the back of it. She stood completely motionless, nearly expressionless and Kyle felt his heart fall to his toes. She didn’t like it. She thought it was stupid. She thought a used chair was a pretty shitty gift. Maybe he needed to explain.

“You were right, what you said yesterday,” he explained. “We haven’t done a good job of acknowledging that you’re with us now. I think in our minds and in our hearts, Dad and I do see you as a part of the family, only we’re not good at showing it. The chair is yours, so that you have your own place with us.”

Still no reaction.

Kyle scratched his head. Maybe he should have followed Isabel’s first reaction and not bought the old chair. “I guess I could take it back…”

Without much warning, Tess’s hands flew up to her face and she burst into tears. Kyle took a startled step backward and nearly fell over a stray watering can. He watched helplessly as the petite alien sobbed into her hands, not really sure what he should do. Reaching out a tentative hand, he rubbed her shoulder. In reaction, she stepped into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder.

Kyle stood stiffly for a moment, not sure how to react to a crying woman, then brought his arms around her thin body.

“Was it something I said?” he wondered aloud.

“It’s – just – so – sweet,” she hiccupped. “No one has ever – bought me – a chair - before!”

Irrationally, Kyle tried to remember if anyone had ever bought him a chair, then wondered what it meant that no one ever had. He was lost in that silly reasoning when she stepped back and wiped at her tears with the sides of her fingers.

“You like it then?” he questioned, still not really understanding her reaction.

“I love it,” she said, calming down a bit. “It means more to me than you can know.”

At that, Kyle beamed. “Well, let’s take it into the house then! You can’t be expected to sit on it out here in the garage.”

Kyle scooped up the chair and started for the house, Tess following in his wake. They managed to make it out of the garage and onto the sidewalk in front of the house when Isabel pulled into the drive. Kyle halted in his tracks at the sight of her, and Tess walked straight into the back of him.

He barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on Isabel as she stepped out of the car, his gaze dropping to a high-heeled boot, then a pair of well-fitting jeans, then a black and gray flannel shirt opened and knotted at the waist; underneath, a man’s white undershirt, snug in all of the right places. Kyle’s breath whooshed lightly from his lungs and he nearly dropped Tess’s gift. He’d never seen a woman look so totally hot in flannel before, so hot that he barely noticed her red Santa hat.

“Oh, you got your present, I see,” Isabel said as she approached them, snapping Kyle from his daze.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Tess gushed. Then she looked at her friend’s clothing and she let out a groan. “Oh, no. They nabbed you for the Plaid Brigade, didn’t they?”

“Hey,” Kyle snapped playfully over his shoulder. “It’s tradition and you don’t mess with tradition. Speaking of which – where is your flannel?”

“I don’t own any,” Tess shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Neither do I,” Isabel said with an awkward smile. “But I have a brother.”

“And so do you,” Kyle said to Tess. “Go to my closet and get something.”

Tess beamed and raced up the stairs to the house. Kyle and Isabel watched her go and when she had disappeared into the house, Isabel said, “That means the world to her, you know.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“That you consider her a sister. She’s never had anyone. She’s been on her own, with only Nasedo as family and I can only imagine what that was like. I had Max and Michael, she had no one. So, having you tell her you’re her brother is like winning the lottery.” Her dark eyes softened. “You’re very sweet.”

Before Kyle could pull out the humble card and deny that he was sweet in any way, Isabel leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. In her wake, his face flushed a light pink and he once again nearly dropped the chair.

“Thanks,” he mumbled bashfully. “This is getting heavy. Let’s go inside before I break it.”

In the house, the sheriff had already claimed his corner of the couch, a bowl of potato chips in his lap. Of course, he was clad in a red flannel shirt. Isabel looked at her black and gray shirt, Kyle’s blue shirt and the sheriff’s traditional red and mused that they looked like an Eddie Bauer add.

“Dad, look who’s here,” Kyle said, placing Tess’s chair gently at the table.

“Merry Christmas, Isabel,” Jim called, waving the remote in her direction. “You come to watch the game?”

Isabel gave him a smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“I see Kyle warned you about the dress code,” he observed, taking in her borrowed shirt.

“Thank God,” she laughed. “I’d hate to break tradition.”

“We wouldn’t have let you in the house,” Kyle joked. “Go have a seat. I’ll get the M&Ms and some drinks.”

Isabel settled on the couch, picking the opposite end from the sheriff, then wondered if she should have chosen a chair. After all, the couch was small and there were four of them; Tess or Kyle would probably sit elsewhere.

Being a little unhuman, Isabel had senses that others did not. For instance, she could usually pick up smells before normal humans could. As she sat on the sofa, she realized that she could smell something familiar, something manly, something attractive…

And then she realized that they were sitting on Kyle’s bed. It was his scent that she had detected. The aroma and the thought of him sleeping there every night did an odd, twisty thing to her gut and she suddenly wondered if she could make it through the game without becoming a nervous wreck.

“Here are the M&Ms and I brought some dip for you, Dad,” Kyle said, squeezing past his father and sitting in the center of the couch. “You like Coke, Iz?”

She nodded and watched as he set the 2-liter bottle and some plastic tumblers on the coffee table.

“We don’t bother with dishes we have to wash,” Jim explained. “It’s untraditional to have to load the dishwasher during play off season.”

Isabel nodded her head in agreement, fought off the urge to burst out laughing. It seemed like a lot of the Valenti traditions revolved around sloth.

A few minutes later, Tess emerged from the bedroom wearing a brown flannel shirt. She seemed self-conscious about it, but both Valenti men cheered in encouragement. And then she did something that absolutely horrified both Kyle and Isabel – she jumped onto the couch between the sheriff and Kyle, which forced them all in very tightly, Kyle fitting snuggly against Isabel’s side.

I can feel him breathe, Isabel realized in surprise, oddly drawn to the movements of his body. Then she noticed that she could feel his warmth as his thigh pressed against hers. She swallowed hard and tried to calm the sudden sweating in her palms.

“They don’t stand a chance,” Jim said around a mouthful of chips.

“Beg pardon?” Kyle croaked, then cleared his throat when Tess gave him an odd look.

“Them,” the sheriff clarified, waving at one of the football teams on the TV screen. “They’ve gotten here on dumb luck. I predict the game will be over before halftime. You willing to take that bet, Kyle?” There was a twinkle, a challenge in the man’s eyes.

“Bet,” Kyle repeated absently. His mind was elsewhere, on the perfume that was coming from the person on his left, on the way that she looked stunning even in her brother’s clothing, on the way that she suddenly seemed to be breathing a little quicker…

And worse – on the way that his body wanted to react to her. He couldn’t have that, not crammed on a couch with his father and Tess. Not the appropriate time to have a case of hormones.

“You okay, son?” Jim asked, his brow furrowed.

Again Kyle snapped from his daze. “No, I’m not taking that bet,” he laughed. “You know I like that team. You’re just trying to set me up.” There – talking sports could do wonders in deflating things…

Satisfied, Jim grabbed the tub of chip dip and sat back to take in the game.

By the end of the first quarter, they determined that Tess would never understand the rules of football and one bag of M&Ms wasn’t enough to feed four people. When there was thirty seconds left in the half, Jim leaned out and addressed his son.

“Thirty seconds,” he warned. “Who’s flying?”

“I flew last time,” Kyle protested.

Tess and Isabel exchanged a curious glance.

“Okay, then it’s my turn,” the sheriff agreed, jumping from the couch and racing to get his boots.

The girls watched in wonder as he shoved the boots onto his feet and didn’t bother tying them. Then he grabbed his coat and hastily threw it on as well.

“Tess? You riding shotgun?” he asked.

Tess raised an eyebrow. “Um, yeah, I guess so.” She shot Isabel a shrug, then went to get her coat.

As the game clock hit double zeroes, the sheriff jerked open the door and pulled Tess after him. Only seconds later, Kyle and Isabel heard the tires of the sheriff’s Blazer squeal as it was back out of the drive.

Kyle chuckled nervously. “Wings,” he explained. “He has to get back here before halftime is over or he has to do the dishes for a week.”

“Ah,” Isabel said in understanding, silently wondering where someone would go to get wings on Christmas Eve.

Quiet settled heavily in the Valenti’s living room, only the halftime activities on the television breaking the silence. Isabel was aware that even though half of the couch was now vacant, Kyle hadn’t moved a muscle. And they were alone. On a couch that held his scent.

The nerves kicked in again.

Finally, Kyle shifted in his seat, but only moving away enough so that he could turn and face her. “I’m glad you came,” he said, sincerity in his blue eyes.

“I am too,” she smiled. “I never got into the sports thing too much, but this is fun.”

“And it’s tradition.”

She gave him an amused look. “You’re very hung up on the tradition thing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you’re hung up on the perfect Christmas thing.”

Isabel withdrew slightly. “Okay, we’re even.”

Panic showed in Kyle’s eyes. “I didn’t mean that to be offensive. I mean, I know it’s just how you are.” He drew in a quick breath, realizing that might be offensive. “I mean, oh crap.”

She laughed lightly. “I know what you meant. And you’ve helped me see that maybe what I consider perfection really isn’t.”

He looked at her in curiosity.

“I thought that having silver garland instead of red would ruin Christmas and now I see that it’s such a minor thing. In the long run, no one will remember. And there are worse things in the world than having the wrong color of decorations.” She looked down at her nails. “And making everyone miserable was only so I had a perfect Christmas – it had nothing to do with how other people feel, what would make them happy. I’ve been selfish.”

Kyle tipped his head in empathy. In a gesture that was only meant to be comforting, he laid his hand over hers. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. You can be a pain in the ass, but you also do a lot of good this time of year. I’m sure that those people at the old folk’s home enjoy what you do for them. And everyone loves the pageant. Just, next year don’t make everyone’s lives hell trying to make it perfect. Any effort you put into it – perfect or not –will be appreciated. And I’ll even be there to be your elf.”

She gave him a grateful smile, then it faded away as she realized his hand was still on hers and she remembered that they were still alone.

Kyle’s eyes drifted to her lips and her stomach did another flip. “I didn’t get you a present,” he murmured.

“I didn’t get you one either,” she replied. “I didn’t plan on…”

His eyes snapped to hers. “On what?”

She fought for words, then settled on, “Being here.”

One corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “Me neither.” Gently, he gave her hand a squeeze. “Can I wish you a Merry Christmas?”

Isabel swallowed hard, then nodded. Closing her eyes, she met him halfway. As their lips touched, traditions were forgotten, football announcers dissolved into thin air, the tree in the corner burned a little brighter and for once, Christmas truly seemed perfect.

tbc

Only a short epilogue to go!