Clay led them to a vacant bench along the wide walkway. They sat down, and this time the dogs sat obediently too, since the dog who’d distracted them had disappeared with its owner.
“I came in person to make sure you’re okay. Did you see the article?” he asked.
She nodded, swiping a tear away, overcome at the generosity and caring of his character to track her down to be sure she was all right. “I saw it, but I hid the article from my parents and aunt.”
“Good thinking,” he agreed. “It would only upset them, especially your Aunt Sylvia. My sister, Coral, clued me into the column. I don’t normally read stuff like this, but she called to alert me out of genuine concern for both of us.”
She nodded. “Thank you for coming. That was nice of your sister.”
“Of course,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. His dark brown eyes held hers for a moment, and again she felt a flutter to be near him.
“Do we know who’s behind this?” she asked. “Do we even care?”
“My best guess is Nora Chandler, but I’d be hard pressed to prove it.” Clay placed his hand over hers. “Do you want me to take any legal action or demand a retraction?”
She shook her head. “I prayed about it, and after, I had the impression we’d only draw more unwanted attention to it.”
He nodded, a look of relief appearing briefly in his eyes. “I agree.”
“Then we do nothing,” she stated calmly, her voice low but firm.
“As you wish,” he replied.
They sat there on the bench for a moment in silence, an excitement in the air between them. The dogs had all gathered closer to her, and all three sat patiently at her feet, waiting. The barking had tired them out more than their brief walk. She wanted to say a hundred things to Clay, ask him a hundred more things, and she had an idea he felt the same way.
He broke the silence first. “I’ve been wondering how you are, otherwise.”
“I’m good,” she said, almost holding her breath for his next words. Would he kiss her again? Was he looking at her lips? “I was wondering how you were doing, too.”
“I’m good, too,” he replied.
More silence between them for a moment, until he asked, “Would you like to go ice skating, after Christmas, I mean?”
“I’d love to.” She smiled.
“Next Tuesday, say about four o’clock? We’ll skate for maybe an hour and then have dinner after? Somewhere casual. Do you prefer Asian food, Chinese, Mexican, burgers...?” he asked.
“Burgers would be fine, but all of that sounds good,” she answered, happiness filling her heart. “I’m not picky.”
“All right, I’ll pick you up at four. We can rent skates there, or bring your own.” He was smiling as he stood up. “I have to get going. I’m meeting the folks for dinner in about an hour. Don’t let that article upset you. It’s a bunch of twisted lies.”
She smiled, standing up with him, still holding the leashes tightly. “At first I took it straight to heart. The article was written with malice as its intent. The thing is, there’s some truth in it. I’m not polished. As I told you, I don’t know the first thing about the debutante world. I tried to explain this to my aunt, but she wanted me to experience the ball and meet her friends. At the end of the day, I’m just a country girl from Kentucky who loves Jesus, riding horses, sewing, dancing, and good books. I refuse to apologize for that. It’s who I am.”
“I love all of that about you, Mia.” Clay stepped forward and cupped her face, drawing her to him. Then he kissed her for a long time, leaving her reeling and dizzy again. “I have to go, but I’ll be thinking of you until next Tuesday. Have a Merry Christmas.”
“You too,” she said, noticing his wide grin. “Merry Christmas. See you at four on Tuesday.”
As he was jogging away, backwards, he added, “Oh, and you can call me Honey or Sweety Pie, anytime.”
She laughed and started to say, “About that...” But since he was already nearly ten feet away, she was unable to properly introduce him to Honey and Sweety Pie. Instead, she waved, and he waved back. She’d explain on Tuesday.
Chapter 6
For unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the government will be on His shoulders. And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Isaiah 9:6, NIV
MIA SANK INTO THE STEAMING hot bubble bath on the Monday after Christmas, reflecting on the enormous surprises the holiday had contained. It was as if the good Lord above had winked at her. It had been a nearly perfect holiday.
After a buffet of scrumptious brown sugar candied ham, whipped sweet potatoes, green bean artichoke casserole, and pumpkin pie, they attended the Christmas Eve service with her family at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, surprised to see Clayton there with his family. She’d only been able to spot him out of the nearly three-thousand attendees because he sat with his family in a pew two rows behind them, and partly because her aunt had pointed them out with a whisper, causing her to sit up straighter. Aunt Sylvia had never mentioned his family attended her church until after their arrival. It’d been a sweet surprise.
Being in the cathedral itself was another tremendous treat for Mia and her parents. Stained glass windows, Neo-gothic architecture, exterior spires, interior pillars, sculpted arches, and brick clad in Tuckahoe marble captured her attention. It was a memorable experience for all of them, and felt a little odd to be in attendance compared to the small, country church she attended at home in Kentucky where her father preached stirring messages.
They’d been able to exchange brief Christmas greetings and a few words after the short service. It wasn’t the same as those her church would hold back home, led by the assistant pastor in her father’s absence, but she’d enjoyed it nonetheless. They were all celebrating Christ’s birth, and that was what mattered most. Clay had looked handsome in a dark suit, a white shirt, and a festive red and green striped silk tie.
Mia was glad she’d worn a purple dress with a hat trimmed in red and purple to match the dress. She wore purple heels, carried a gold Michael Kors clutch, and wore red and gold drop earrings. “You look like you stepped off the cover of Vogue,” Clay whispered in her ear.
She’d blushed and looked down. “Thanks. I made the dress and trimmed the hat myself.”
“You’ve got an eye for this sort of thing,” he’d said.
“So I’m told,” she managed as his mother, Avis Bridgewater, began leading his family out of the service without regard to how important this moment was for them.
“Well believe them. You look stunning. You’ve given me a vision I’ll be thinking of all evening.” He’d smiled at her.
She’d blushed, smiling, and even now in her bath could remember the way the heat had rushed to her cheeks. “You look handsome, too,” she’d remarked.
“Walk with me to the front steps,” he’d said, guiding her along with the crowd, his arm around her. Her family had fallen in step behind them.
“I hope you have a Merry Christmas,” she’d said when they’d nearly reached the doors. Her eyes had brimmed with tears at the gift of being able to see him again.