Something hot flickered in Ryan’s gaze.
Oh, mercy. Finding her voice, Hannah managed to call back, “Just plating the cookies!” With one last squeeze of Ryan’s hand, she moved to make up a tray with still warm cookies and glasses of milk for everybody. Maybe the milk would cool the heat in her cheeks.
The music, as it turned out, was from a fabulous vintage turntable and speakers. “I bought this system forty years ago. Spent a pretty penny. The speakers alone cost the earth.” Percy named a figure that
had her wincing, even now. “Thought my Janie was gonna kill me dead. But she loved music and it was something we enjoyed together.”
“It sounds amazing. There’s nothing like real vinyl. It’s…I don’t know…warmer somehow.”
“I haven’t listened to these in a long time,” Percy admitted. “My Janie, she used to have music on all the time. While she cooked or cleaned. Even while she gardened. She’d open the windows and play it loud enough half the street could hear. Thankfully the neighbors appreciated our taste in music.”
Hannah laughed and began to open boxes. “That’s fortunate.”
“Her favorite thing, though, was to put on something romantic after dinner and dance. She was a helluva dancer. I never could do much but sway and instigate the occasional spin, but she never minded.”
The image he painted warmed her heart even as it made her ache for what he’d lost. What would it be like to have fifty years like that with someone you loved? Perilously close to tears, she turned to the business of things, tasking Ryan with untangling twinkle lights while she took inventory of what they had to work with.
Percy helped her unpack things, telling stories about this ornament or that. In every word, every look, it was clear he adored his wife and missed her like a limb. For a while, she worried that all the memories would send him spiraling into grief. But each little anecdote, each new record, seemed to coax out a smile.
“You remind me of her, with all that holiday cheer. Not even a grumpy old cuss like me can resist.”
She couldn’t think of a higher compliment. As the latest album shifted into Frank Sinatra’s rendition of “The Christmas Song”, she put down the box of painted glass balls and held out a hand. “Will you dance with me, Percy?”
His wrinkled cheeks pinked and he began to bluster.
“Please?”
“Well. All right.” He set aside the ornaments in his hands and curled his fingers around hers, settling his other hand lightly on her waist.
As they began to circle to the music, awareness skated over her skin from the weight of Ryan’s gaze. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to dance with him, with that battled-hardened body pressed to hers, staring into those eyes that seemed to see straight into her soul.
Needing a distraction, she focused on her actual dance partner. “How did you meet your Janie, Percy?”
“We met because of another woman.”
“Oh reeeeeally?” She drew the word out to three syllables. “It sounds like there’s a story there.”
“I had a date with her roommate. A buddy of mine set us up. She was the sister or cousin of somebody or other—I forget. Anyway, she shared a house with four other gals, and she wasn’t ready when I got there to pick her up. So I was sitting there in the living room, cooling my heels when Janie walks in. Prettiest thing I ever saw. I had no idea she wasn’t my date. She just said, ‘You ready?’ And all I could do was nod because I didn’t have control over my tongue.”
“Wait, wait. You took Janie out instead of your actual date?” Hannah asked.
“I did. And we had a grand old time. She didn’t fess up until after I’d brought her home. I was leaning in to kiss her goodnight and the door flies open and there’s Bridget, madder than a wet hen.”
“Bet that was awkward,” Ryan observed.
“I didn’t know what to say. Janie just shrugged and said we wouldn’t have had anything in common anyway and she was just saving us both from a miserable evening. Bridget slammed the door on us and locked it. That was about the time Janie realized she didn’t have her key. We ended up sitting on the front porch, talking until the sun came up, and by the end of that night, I knew I was gonna marry that girl—which I did a year later.”
The story left Hannah’s heart warm and gooey. “Insult to Bridget aside, that’s so romantic.”
“When you know, you know,” Percy said simply, dropping his hands as the music ended. “Thank you for the dance, young lady.”
“Thank you for the story.” She smiled at him and picked up a set of handmade ornaments of the three wise men. “Now tell me about these.”
As afternoon wore into evening, Ryan watched Hannah continue to work her magic on the house and on Percy himself. She drew him out, reminding him of all the good memories attached to this stuff. Percy seemed to get five years younger in as many hours as she continued chattering away like a cheerful magpie. She was so open and willing to connect with everyone around her. His hand flexed at the remembered feel of her fingers laced through his. He couldn’t fathom being like that, being able to survive like that. And she seemed to thrive on it. It fascinated him. She fascinated him, despite his better judgment, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she’d do if Percy wasn’t around to interrupt.
As if reading his mind, Percy shoved up from the recliner. “I hate to leave good company, but I’m tuckered out.”
He didn’t look over-tired. Their efforts had put color in his cheeks and a spring in his step. Or maybe he was as hopped up on sugar as a third grader who’d cleaned out the cookie jar. His hands shook a little. Either way, it was getting close to his bedtime.