Sweet Holiday Romance Books 1 - 4

Chapter 4

4

Dusk was falling and the lamppost in front of Eve's house was already glowing, fending off the coming night. As dark came sooner this time of year, she had taken to leaving a light on in the living room. She walked carefully across the uneven cobblestones that led up to her front door, taking in the overgrown vegetation in her front yard that had already died back for the year and turned various shades of brown.

The wild pumpkin plants from her backyard had stretched their grasping vines around the house to the front. They combined with the rose bushes she had not pruned, the ivy that had spread across the ground and up one side of the house, and other various weeds and grasses she had neglected to mow this past summer. The result was a tangled mess where there used to be a mature and stately front lawn.

The house was a Victorian built with stone. It had a swirling iron fence, high peaked roof, tall windows and a balcony over the front door where you could walk out from her bedroom upstairs and look down at the street below. Ancient oak and maple trees loomed on either side of the house. Their leaves had turned to crimson and gold and begun dropping, leaving wispy piles all over the ground. The moon, which would reach full status in a few nights, Halloween to be exact, rose behind the roof, half hidden by the pointed peaks and narrow brick chimneys.

As she got closer she could see Hazel and Sabrina, black and beautiful, watching for her as they sat in the living room window. They were silhouetted by the lamplight that spilled out of the window and their eyes shone yellow. Eve had to admit the whole effect did look very much like your classic haunted house. She chuckled a little at the idea of her father, tall and boisterous, weaving tales of strange sounds and ghost sightings and thrilling his students with scary stories.

Eve had always had a vivid imagination. Encouraged by her father to read, she loved stories and books and movies of all kinds. She had always liked living in a house with such character. They had both loved living in this house, but Eve also had a logical streak and, imagination or not, she certainly didn't believe in ghosts.

In the kitchen, she placed the copper tea kettle on the stove and turned on the gas flame underneath. She started to reach for a mug and a single tea bag, but decided instead to make a whole pot. It had been a chilly day and was getting even chillier outside. Eve pulled down the olive green teapot that had once been her mother's, and filled the bottom with pumpkin spice herbal tea. Why not, she thought to herself, it is almost Halloween after all.

"The wind is picking up outside," she said to the cats, who were winding themselves around her ankles. "Are you hungry?"

She opened the cupboard that held their canned cat food and they both started meowing in excitement, Sabrina most of all. After filling both of their dishes, Eve fixed herself a few slices of bread with cheese on top that she popped into the oven to toast. Steam poured out of the tea kettle as a gust of wind rattled the kitchen window. Darkness had fallen. Eve gazed out of her kitchen window at the moonlit backyard, waiting for the kettle to get to full boil and thinking about Chip Hendricks.

Seeing him today, the way he talked to her, the way he looked at her, had left her in a bit of a shambles. Her stomach felt tight and there was a pleasant lightheadedness she experienced whenever she relived the moments he had smiled at her or the sound of his voice.

Eve had suffered with a mad crush on Chip ever since they were in elementary school together. He had been dark and moody then, and only grown into a darker, moodier, extremely sexy man. Nothing had ever happened between them. In fact, Eve had always thought he either didn't notice her much or thought of her like he would an ugly duckling cousin. Her heart had never given up its romantic dream of him, and even though it had been a few years since she'd seen him, she wondered if maybe this time was the time they would finally end up together. As much as she loved her home and her job and her town, Chip Hendricks was the kind of man that could make a woman seriously consider changing her whole life.

A strong gust of wind hit her house at the exact same moment the boiling kettle started to scream and a loud knocking came at her front door. Eve jumped at the sounds, as did Hazel and Sabrina. Instead of darting off and hiding under the couch as cats normally did when frightened, Hazel and Sabrina ran to the front door meowing loudly. The knocking came again. Eve turned off the gas under the kettle and went to the door, a tiny piece of her wondering if she'd somehow conjured up Chip Hendricks on her front porch.

That particular hope was squelched as soon and she saw the shock of red hair through the small window at the top of the great wooden front door. She looked more closely through the beveled glass and could make out a semi-familiar face. It took her a few moments, then it hit her, Mr. Murphy was waiting patiently in the wind. She opened the door.

"Mr. Murphy?"

"Hello!" He exclaimed. He was dressed in a casual dark brown leather jacket that looked more like daywear than anything that would keep a person warm. He had no gloves, scarf or hat. This late October wind held a frost in it and had turned his uncovered ears bright red. "Sorry for the intrusion, Miss St. Claire.”

"Come out of the wind," Eve answered, stepping back and ushering him into the foyer.

"It gets cold once the sun goes down, doesn't it?" He said as he gratefully stepped inside. He rubbed his hands together, cupped them and blew into them, trying to warm up. He was quite windblown and all the tips of him were burning a bright red from the cold. He reminded Eve of an elf. A tall, well-built elf. His blue eyes twinkled as he smiled at her then looked down at Hazel and Sabrina who were madly twisting their furry bodies around his boots and pulling at the bottom of his jeans with their claws. "And who are these lovely beasties?" He asked. As if to introduce herself, Hazel leapt from the floor to his chest where he caught her deftly.

Eve looked at him with surprise. "She's never done that before. Hazel, come here." Eve reached for her.

"I don't mind," Mr. Murphy said, smiling at the purring feline in his arms and the plumper Sabrina who still curled around his feet, meowing loudly because she was unable to make the leap up like her sister. "Cats have a thing for me. Probably because I have a thing for them."

Taking in his chilled exterior, Eve thought it best to invite him to have some tea. She poured water from the kettle into her mother's teapot as Mr. Murphy settled himself at the kitchen table. He happily entertained both cats, who continued to beg for his attention, as he took in the large cozy kitchen with its copper pots and braided rugs and the great white gas stove where Eve prepared the tea.

"You have a beautiful house," he told her as she placed a tray holding the teapot, two cups, cream, sugar and two spoons on the table in front of him.

"Thank you," she smiled, then remembered the rumors. "Do you think it seems haunted now that you've seen it?" Eve meant it as a joke, kind of, but realized too late that she may sound overly sensitive.

He gave her an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, again, for that. I took it as a sort of fun, small town legend. I thought you knew about it. I don't go in for gossip."

Now she was embarrassed. It was hardly Mr. Murphy's fault. He'd just moved into town a few short months ago.

"Actually," he said as he took another look around the kitchen, "I think it's enchanting."

She shrugged nonchalantly, wanting to move on to another subject.

"How can I help you this evening, Mr. Murphy?"

"Please call me Atticus."

"Atticus?" A literary name.

Bashful, he took the cup she offered him and didn't look up. "Yes, Atticus," he gave a wistful sigh. "My mother wanted me to be brilliant."

Eve smiled and poured some tea into his cup, then her own.

"Call me Eve," she said. Then she tried again, "How can I help you tonight...Atticus?"

Happy to be off the subject of his name, Atticus sat back a bit in his chair to look at her. His jacket hung by the front door and he sported a robin's egg blue dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. The blue brought out his eyes and she liked how he wore his clothes, casual and a little dressed up all at the same time.

"I was wondering...well, the class and I were wondering...if you would like to come with us to the pumpkin patch day after tomorrow,” he raised his brow with the question, "to pick pumpkins?"

Eve was stirring sugar into her tea, enjoying this chat with Atticus at her cozy kitchen table as the cold night enveloped the house. She was flattered at the invitation. Every year, for so many years, she had accompanied her father and his class on their traditional pumpkin picking field trip. She had assumed all of those traditions were gone forever. She started to answer, but was overcome by nostalgia. Big tears welled up in her eyes and she couldn't meet Atticus' gaze.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, fumbling for a napkin. Atticus pulled one from the holder on the table and placed it in her hand.

"Don't be sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to upset you. I thought...we thought...it might be fun." He gave her a crooked, hopeful look that made her smile through her tears.

"It does sound fun," she agreed, wiping her eyes and sniffing.

"So, you'll come?" Atticus looked genuinely delighted and Eve nodded at him as she blew her nose on the napkin. Atticus' expression changed suddenly to concern as he sniffed the air, "Do I smell smoke?"

"Cheese toast!" She exclaimed, and jumped up from the table.

Smoke poured from the oven when she opened the door. Atticus waved the smoke away with a dishtowel while Eve popped on an oven mitt and pulled the cookie sheet full of bubbling, blackened cheese out of the oven. She carried the smoking mess to the back porch while Atticus opened the windows from inside the kitchen. They both did their best to fan the smoke out of the windows, but the cold, fall wind did most of the work as it swept through the room.

After the excitement was over and the kitchen was back to normal, Eve fed the two pieces of cooled burned toast that had been her dinner to the cats and fixed four new pieces. Two for her and two for Atticus.

"Toasted cheese is delicious," Atticus declared. "It reminds me of Heidi."

"Me too!" Eve replied, "I made my Dad learn how to make it after he read me Heidi when I was little."

"Are these your parents?" Atticus stood with a fresh cup of tea in his hand looking at her parent's wedding picture on the wall.

"Yes.” She set the egg timer to four minutes and joined him in the tiny hallway where the picture hung. He seemed taller, maybe because they were standing in such a small space together. She looked at the image of her mother, so small and delicate, with wide, pale eyes looking so lovingly up at her young father. His strong features, dark hair that tended to curl into a wild frizzy mess, and huge beaming smile that took over the room had already been part of his giant personality, even when they were so young.

"I've heard a lot about your father," Atticus said. "The kids tell me all kinds of stories about him."

She nodded, feeling the tears coming again. She didn't want to cry a second time in front of Atticus, so she chose not to talk at all. She just smiled and nodded.

"He was a great teacher," Atticus continued.

Eve swallowed hard and managed to answer, her voice faltering the tiniest bit, "Yes, he was. He really loved teaching." That was all she could manage to say without collapsing into a weeping mess. When she finally composed herself and glanced at Atticus he was still looking at the picture, seeming to understand the intimacy of the moment. He sensed her gaze and turned towards her, the gentle kindness in his eyes made her feel warm.

"You were lucky to have each other," he said, and he was right.