Horses in the City
written by:
PennLady

Horses in the City © 2010 All rights reserved

Author's Note: This is a Christmas story I decided to submit. Hope you enjoy.

==========================

Prologue

"Emma, what are you talking about?" Lila Hutchins stared at her sister, unable to comprehend what she'd just heard. They were at a Christmas party but Lila barely registered the lights, the decorations, or the songs. Emma's words had blocked everything else out.

"Just what I said, Lila. I don't think it will work with the two of us. It's just not..." Emma put her hands together, back to back. "Just not meshing." Her brown eyes were bright and she was fidgeting.

"Not meshing?" Anger bubbled up in Lila as she saw the signs of a high in Emma's behavior. "Since when?"

"Oh...I don't know." Emma made an impatient gesture with her hand. "But come on. We've been here how many months, and nothing's happened. We're working crap jobs as waitresses. That's not what we wanted, is it?"

Lila narrowed her eyes as Emma shifted her weight from foot to foot. "We knew it would take time, Emma. We haven't been at it all that long. There are worse jobs than waitressing."

"Look, Lila. I didn't want to say anything, but Sam's got a line on something. Except it's just with me. He thought it would be easier with just one of us. Didn't you, baby?" She turned adoring eyes up to Sam Hollings and gave him a bright smile while Lila tried not to gag.

"I did." Sam nodded, handed Emma a cup full of eggnog, then turned to Lila. "It's nothing personal, Lila. Just, you know...you have to start somewhere."

Lila hadn't trusted Sam Hollings from the moment they'd met him, but Emma had been entranced. He'd stepped into their lives after a performance at a small club. He had dark hair, green eyes, and a smile that had overwhelmed Emma. With some reluctance, Lila had let Emma take the lead, hoping that she could step in if things went wrong with Sam. It looked like they had and like it was way too late for Lila to stop anything.

"Anyway." Emma took a big gulp of her drink as Sam slipped an arm around her waist. Lila wondered what Sam had put in it and was on the verge of grabbing the glass when Emma tossed back the rest. "It's not like I'm going to forget about you, Li. Once I've got something in place, in...um...in writing, then I'll put in a good word for you." She nodded vigorously.

"A good word?" Lila glared at the two of them, fury rising with every passing minute. "Gee, thanks, sis."

"Lila, come on." Emma's temper started to flare. "At least I'm trying to get something done."

"I won't 'come on,'" Lila snapped. "And you." She tried to dislodge Sam's arm from Emma. "Leave her alone. Emma, we have to go."

"What? Hey, stop that!" Emma looked startled. "I want to stay with Sam."

"Emma, will you listen to yourself?" Lila was half-pleading, half-angry. "You want to go on your own? When we always planned to do it together?"

"Things are different. Things don't always go the way you plan."

"It's different because of him!" Lila jabbed a finger at Sam. "It's all changed because of him! What do you really know, Emma? What about this lead, huh? Have you seen anyone? Talked to anyone?"

"Shut up, Lila." Sam looked at her with a snarl.

"Back off, you son of a bitch!" Lila met his glare, her green eyes flashing. "You think I don't see through you? You don't have anybody lined up. You're a con man, you're slime, and I won't let you drag my sister down with you."

"Leave him alone!" Emma stepped between them. "He's right. I've been writing the music and the words and you don't do anything. You just wait for me to tell you what to do. Well, I'm tired of doing all the work and then both of us getting credit. If it weren't for me carrying you, maybe I'd already have a deal!"

"That's right." Sam broke in, his face red with anger. "You're no good and you know it. Emma's been carrying the both of you. She writes the words, and the music, isn't that right, sweetheart?" Emma nodded and he pushed on. "If it weren't for you, Emma would already be recording an album."

Lila felt tears sting at her eyes but fought them back. "That's not true. You're feeding her lies!"

"He is not!" Emma shouted. "You're trying to hold me back. You just can't stand the idea that I've got the talent and you don't. All you can do is hold on to my coattails. But not anymore, Lila. I want to go places and Sam's going to help me."

Lila grabbed her sister by the shoulders and shook her. "Emma, listen to me! He's just using you. He doesn't know anything about music, he's just stringing you along. We're a team, we always have been."

"Emma's the team here, Lila." Sam gave her an oily smile. "She's the star, and you know it."

"Emma, please!"

"He's right." Emma turned a warm smile on Sam and snuggled against him, then gave her sister a cold look. "Really, Lila, you should be happy for me. Like I said, I won't forget you. I can hire you on later, I'm sure I'll need an assistant or something." Emma gave a short, hard laugh. "It's my music, Lila, and I don't want to share it anymore. I don't need to. Now, go away. Sam and I have plans to make."

Lila left but Emma didn't notice; her attention was focused on Sam, and the promises he'd made.

x-x-x-x

Two years later

How did I let this happen?

Emma pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, wishing the warm fleece would chase away the cold inside. She huddled into the corner of the couch, staring out the window.

She wished it was snowing, but there was only frozen rain. It pelted the window of her third-floor apartment with a flat, staccato dit dit dit. She stared out the window, trying to keep her mind blank. If she didn't, she'd think about what she'd done, who she'd hurt, and how she'd never make up for it in a million years.

A clip clop sound rose over the cold drizzle and she got up and went over to the window. Despite the weather, she slid the window up, breathed in the frigid air and listened to the horse's hooves slap against the street. She loved to watch them go by; it was about the only thing she did love about the city anymore. I've lost everything else, she thought.

She watched the horse go by, pulling its carriage behind. A couple sat on the bench seat, under their own blanket. Cuddling, she mused, not huddling like she was. No doubt they were warm; they probably chased each other's chills away with kisses and tender words. Her imagination filled in more details.

"They're in love," she said aloud, even though she was alone. "Engaged, maybe newlyweds. No. They'll be engaged by the end of the ride, that's why he suggested it. It's winter and cold, so they'll have to be close to stay warm, and the blanket makes it more romantic.

"While they were going around the park, he pulled the box out of his pocket and proposed. She was surprised and teared up." Emma paused. "She wasn't stunned, though. They'd talked about it; the only issue was the timing. She figured he'd wait until Christmas, and he knew it. So he decided to do it early. It was the only way he could think to surprise her. "

She watched some more. "Even the driver's a romantic at heart. They should have gotten off a few blocks ago but he's letting them ride all the way back. He'll probably even call them a cab."

Emma sighed and turned from the window, feeling hollow despite her romantic flight of fancy. Two years ago, she could have written a song about that. She would have jumped at it, unable to stop herself. Now she couldn't if she tried, and she had tried.

It was no good anymore. The words came out wrong. Even if they were half-right, her voice was no good for it. She couldn't even sing along with the radio. It hurt too much. Everything she had loved about writing and singing was gone. Not just gone, she reminded herself. You threw it away.

Her eyes fell on the old piano in the living room. The former tenant had left it behind, and it was a constant reminder to Emma of just what she'd lost.

Tears gathered and Emma fought them back. She tried to make herself concentrate on the positive things, as she did when she was on the verge of self-pity. You have a job. You have a place to live. You have a whole city to walk around in, to lose yourself in.

That was the problem, Emma thought. She'd been living in the city for something like three years and still didn't feel she fit in. Perhaps that was why she liked the horses. They didn't seem to fit either. With their big leather harnesses, their blinders to keep them from being frightened as the cars whizzed by, and the carriages they hauled behind them, the horses looked like they'd been transported from another time.

I wish I could transport to another time. Anytime, anywhere would be better than this.

With a sigh, Emma dropped the blanket on the couch and grabbed her coat for the walk to work. She preferred the late shift; her apartment was less lonely during the day. Nights were harder to get through alone.

x-x-x-x

Luke Thornton waved as the cab containing the newly-engaged couple drove away. He enjoyed doing things like that. Plus, he'd won the bet on who would get the first wedding proposal among the carriage drivers.

"Hey, Luke!"

He turned to see Sol Kantner waving to him as he began to unhitch the horses. "Hey, Sol."

"Lousy weather, eh, kid?" Sol shivered and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "Whaddaya say to a coffee at Millie's?"

"Sounds great." Luke nodded. "Just let me get the ladies all set here."

"Ladies." Sol snorted. "They're horses, kid. Mares."

"I know, Sol." Luke rolled his eyes. "I grew up on a farm."

"You don't look the type." Sol shook his head, pulled his wool cap down tighter over his grizzled gray head. "But if you say so."

"And you owe me. I won the bet."

"The hell you say." Sol stared at him. "It's only December second!"

"I know." Luke grinned. "But I had a proposal; those two I got the cab for. So I win."

"What were the names?" Sol demanded.

"The woman was Tabitha and the guy was...Jamie." Luke nodded, sure he was right. "They argued a little before he proposed, but he did and she accepted. Hence I win the pool."

"Christ, you're a lucky bastard."

"Language, Sol." Luke led the first horse to a stall. "What would Santa say?"

Sol scoffed. "I should care? I'm Jewish."

Luke laughed as he came back for the other horse. He patted her neck as he took the lead to take her back to join her friend. "Santa might be non-denominational." He was rewarded with a snort each from Sol and the horse.

After the horses were brushed and fed and settled in for the night, Luke and Sol headed up to Millie's.

"Oh, that feels good." Luke rubbed his hands together to warm them up as they slid into a booth. The temperature was above freezing, but the sleet made it feel much colder. "Wish I had a space heater on the carriage."

"You kids." Sol made a face and Luke bit back a laugh. "Lucky you have blankets. And what, thermal underwear isn't good enough?"

"It's fine," Luke assured him. "Still, a night like this is wet and cold; it gets into your bones." He rubbed his hands together again, then used them to try to put his blond hair in some semblance of order.

"I bet those kids were plenty warm." Sol grinned. "You can do lots of things under those blankets."

Before Luke could reply, the waitress came over. "Hi, Emma." Luke smiled at her.

"Hi, Luke. Hi, Sol." She nodded, making brief, obligatory eye contact before looking down and pulling out her notepad. "What can I get you?"

"Start with a couple of coffees," said Sol. "And keep 'em coming."

"Sure." Emma left to get the coffee.

Luke watched her until Sol nudged his arm. "Hmm? What?"

"Don't stare. It's not polite. What, were you raised in a barn?"

Luke feigned offense but the corners of his mouth twitched. "It was a big barn."

Sol rolled his eyes. "Smart ass."

Luke laughed, and Sol was about to say something more when Emma came back with the coffees.

"Anything to eat?" she asked as she put the cups on the table. She put an extra saucer of creamers on, knowing Luke took some coffee with his cream.

"I want one of Millie's big breakfasts," Sol said. "Tell her it's for Sol, and not to skimp."

"What would your wife say, Sol?" Luke winked at Emma as he said it, but she gave no reaction. She's never smiled back, he thought. How could she not smile in all this time? Sol's voice bulled into his head.

"Doesn't matter. My wife ain't here. Now, remember—no skimping."

"Right, no skimping." Emma turned to Luke. "Anything for you?"

"A bowl of soup, whatever's up today. And a grilled cheese sandwich, please." He watched as she nodded, wrote it down and left again, never looking at him.

"Grilled cheese?" Sol mocked him but grinned. "What are you, twelve?"

Luke ignored him. "I wonder what her story is."

"You and your stories." Sol shook his head. "Not everyone has a big story behind them, kid."

"Maybe." Luke tapped a finger on the table as he thought. Emma was polite, but not quite friendly. There had to be a story there, he thought, and Luke liked stories.

Stories were why he'd come to the city in the first place. He wanted to be a writer, and couldn't do it on his parents' farm. He needed—craved—the continuous hum of life he'd found in the city. His father had been furious, wanting Luke to keep the farm going, but Luke couldn't. As much as he loved the farm, it just wasn't in him to stay there. Never mind that his younger brother, Keith, was more than happy to run the place. As the oldest son, his father had considered it Luke's obligation to run the farm and they hadn't spoken since Luke had left.

No, Luke needed his stories. He heard plenty of them while driving the carriage—and his cab part-time—and he found himself often putting stories to people that he saw on the street. He'd tried to do that with Emma, but hadn't found the right one. No scenario he dreamed up seemed to fit her, and he wondered why she was so hard to pin down.

"Stop staring." Sol thwacked Luke's arm. "What's with you?"

"Nothing." Luke shifted in his seat. "Just thinking."

"Why don't you just ask her?"

"Ask who what?"

Sol mumbled something under his breath. "The girl. Emma. Ask her what her story is. You keep staring at her like that, she'll call the cops or something. And I want my food. You want to know something, then ask."

"It's an idea." Luke gave a slow nod. "I'm just not sure she's the type to tell her story too easily."

"You make things so complicated," Sol complained. "I come here for food, I get philosophy." He looked up as Emma came over with their plates, one in each hand. "If I wanted philosophy, I'd have ordered it, wouldn't I?"

"Don't think it's on the menu." Emma gave a quick, tight smile and made brief eye contact as she slid the plates in front of them.

Luke raised an eyebrow; he didn't think he'd ever heard her crack a joke before.

"Anything else?" Emma's eyes darted between them. "I'll get the carafe for the coffee in a minute. Had to make a new pot."

"Sounds good." Sol turned to his food and reached for the salt. Luke snatched it away; Sol glared at him.

"You don't need any more salt," Luke informed him. "You know you're supposed to be watching it, and Millie puts in more than she needs to anyway."

Once more, Sol appealed to Emma. "How is a man supposed to enjoy his hash browns without a little dash of salt? I ask you!"

Another smile tugged at Emma's lips, and Luke chuckled himself. When Sol put on his pitiful face, it was hard not to laugh. He wished Emma would let the smile happen. He didn't think he'd ever seen her smile. Between that and the joke she'd made, it was enough to make him wonder where the pods were.

"Millie put in extra for you, Sol," Emma told him.

"Well, then." Sol brightened. "I always did like Millie."

x-x-x-x

"What'd you tell him?" Millie jerked her head in Sol's direction. "Looked like he might jump over the table for that salt."

Emma reached for the coffee carafe. "I told him you put extra salt in the hash browns."

"Good one!" Millie laughed, almost a cackle, and patted Emma's arm. "And he believed you!"

Emma shrugged. "This time, anyway."

"And did I see you smile over there?" Millie raised an eyebrow. "That's good if you did. You should smile more."

"Sol...well, I couldn't help it when he tried to give me those puppy dog eyes." Emma gave Millie a side glance and did smile.

Millie scoffed. "Puppy? Sol's an old basset hound." She fiddled with the net that held her salt-and-pepper hair back. "Now, how about the young man there? Luke?"

"What about him?" Emma kept her expression neutral. She liked Luke, as much as she let herself like anyone. He'd always been nice to her, and she tried to loosen up a little when he and Sol were there. Old habits died hard, though.

"He's been looking at you." Millie cocked her head as Emma flushed. "What? You're a pretty girl, Emma."

"Thanks." Emma poured hot coffee into the thermal carafe and twisted on the lid. "It's just...never mind." She shook her head. "It's nothing."

"You don't like him?"

"I don't know him."

Millie peered over at the men. Sol was going on about something, and Luke was nodding but his eyes were on Emma. He looked away when he noticed Millie staring at him, but didn't seem embarrassed.

"Well, I think he'd like to know you." Millie went over and began wiping down the counter even though no one had sat there for over an hour. "He can't take his eyes off you."

"That's silly." Emma picked up the coffee, hoping the weight of it would keep her hands steady. "I can't imagine why he would want to stare at me. You're imagining things."

"Listen, missy," Millie informed her. "I've been around a long time and I know when people are interested and when they're not. He's interested."

Emma started to go, then sat the carafe down and sighed. "Maybe, Millie, but...I don't know. I'm not ready to be interested, or have someone interested."

"Horse hockey."

Emma had to bite her lip when Millie said that. One would expect her to curse like a sailor, but no.

"You're too alone, Emma." Millie was firm. "You come here, you go home and you hardly ever go out. You've told me so yourself," she said as Emma made to protest. "So, now you have a nice young man looking at you, and you want to ignore it?"

"Not ignore it, exactly. Just..." Emma picked up the coffee. "This is a tough time of year for me. I'm not sure I could deal with...with something like that."

"This is the perfect time," Millie countered. "This is when things change, that's what my mother always told me. Christmas is for changes and new beginnings."

"I thought that was spring." Emma tried to change the subject as she took a step towards Sol and Luke's table. "You know, everything gets reborn in spring."

Millie scoffed. "You calling my momma a liar?"

"No. No, ma'am." Emma hurried over to the men, stifling a small smile. Millie had done a lot for Emma, and far be it from her to say that Millie's mother had been wrong about anything.

Sol got up from the table and headed to the rest room as Emma brought over the coffee. Her stomach churned as she realized she was alone with Luke, then she chided herself. She dealt with customers all the time, alone and in groups, and Luke was one of the nicest. Being nervous around him made no sense.

"Here you go." She placed the pitcher on the table. "Sorry for the wait."

"Not a problem." Luke paused. "Hey, Emma, can I ask you something?"

Another stomach flip; Emma swallowed. "Sure."

"I'd like to see you sometime, outside work. Could I?"

Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Why?"

Luke smiled, which did nothing to alleviate her embarrassment. "Because I'd like to. I think it'd be fun to talk to you about something besides the daily specials." He frowned. "Are you seeing someone? Sorry, I should have asked that first."

"No."

Luke gave her a puzzled look and Emma realized her answer was blurry, at best.

"I mean." She took a deep breath. "No, I'm not seeing anyone and..." She could feel Millie's eyes burning into her back. "Sure. That'd be nice. To see you outside work, I mean." Emma stifled a groan at how ridiculous she must sound.

"Great." He smiled and Emma couldn't remember the last time someone had smiled at her like that. "How about tomorrow?"

"I...sure." Not like I have anything planned, Emma thought. Millie was right; aside from work and necessary errands, Emma hardly left her apartment.

"Can we meet here, at the corner?" Luke suggested. "Maybe at one?"

"Okay." Emma nodded, wondering if this conversation was happening only in her mind. She hadn't had a date since she'd left Sam; she hadn't wanted one.

"Great." Luke poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. "Anything you'd like to do?"

Emma stared, lost for words. "Um, no, not really." She was still stuck on the fact that he'd asked her out and she'd accepted. There was no way she could have come up with something to do.

"No problem." Luke added one, then two, then three creamers to his coffee. "I'll think of something. If it's nice, maybe we can just take a walk."

"Sure." The bells Millie had placed on the door jingled as a new customer came in. "Excuse me, I have to go."

"All right. See you tomorrow."

Emma nodded and went over to grab menus, her mind in a fog. Maybe Millie's mother was right, she thought. Maybe it was time to try something new.

x-x-x-x

"What are you smiling about?" Sol sat down. "You weren't smiling like that when I left." He made a face as Luke added yet more cream to his coffee. "Why do you even bother? It's not coffee by the time you finish with it."

Luke shrugged. "It's how I like it. I'll work my way up to espresso later."

"Espresso." Sol waved his hand. "Please. What's wrong with a straight cup of coffee, I ask you."

"All right. Actually, Sol, I'm smiling because of you."

Sol narrowed his eyes. "What? I have something stuck in my teeth?"

Luke laughed. "No, I just took your advice is all. I'm going to see Emma tomorrow."

"Oh, did you now?" Sol nodded and reached for his own coffee, topping it off with the fresh brew Emma had brought. "Going to find out her story, eh?"

"I'll try." Luke shrugged. "Can't hurt to ask."

x-x-x-x

Emma fidgeted with her gloves as she walked to the corner to meet Luke. Doubts had assailed her from the moment she'd gotten home. She'd told Millie, of course; the older woman was sure something had happened and wouldn't let her leave without finding out what it was. Millie was as pleased as if she had set them up herself.

"Millie, it's...nothing. I don't even know if it's a date. I just..."

"No buts." Millie had wagged an intimidating finger at her. "Luke's a nice boy, you're a nice girl. No reason you shouldn't go on a date. You've been shut up too much; you hide."

"I know." Emma had looked down and pretended to organize the salt and pepper shakers. "I can't help it."

"Can't hide forever."

"I know."

She's right; I can't hide forever, Emma thought, but maybe I should have for just a little longer. She tried to force the thoughts out of her head by concentrating on the Christmas decorations. Most had been up since before Thanksgiving, which always made her shake her head. There were shiny white candles with yellow flames in red wreaths, big silver snowflakes in green ones, and every so often there was a snowman smiling out from inside a blue circle.

She arrived at the corner but didn't see Luke. More doubts surfaced -- what if he hadn't meant this corner, but one of the others at the intersection? What if she'd gotten the time wrong? What if he'd stood her up? Then she told herself to calm down; there was no reason to think Luke would do anything like that, they'd been clear on the time, and even if he'd meant a different corner, she could see them all from where she was.

Despite all that, Emma felt herself getting anxious. What was she doing? Even if Luke did show up, and they had a nice time, once he found out what had happened before, he wouldn't want anything to do with her. Not that she could blame him.

Stop that. Millie would have your head for thinking like that. Emma dropped her head and took a deep breath.

"Hey, Emma!"

She jerked up at the sound of her name and turned until she saw Luke waving at her. She made a small wave in return, almost not conscious of doing it.

"Hi." He jogged to a stop. "Sorry, didn't mean to be late. Had an idea and had to get it out of my head."

"It's okay. I've only been here a few minutes." Emma looked up at him, curious. "An idea?"

"Yep." Luke nodded. "Come on, I'll tell you while we walk." He placed a hand on her back and gestured with the other across the street. "They're doing a special Christmas concert at one of the churches a few blocks up. That okay? If you don't like that, no problem; there's plenty of places to go. I figure it's December, so it's safe to do Christmas things."

"Um, sure. That'd be fine." Emma felt like she was floating along on a wave, not under her own power. "I hate how early they put decorations up." It was all she could think of to say.

"Oh, me too." Luke stepped off the curb as the light changed. "Drives me nuts. Still, now that Thanksgiving is over, we can appreciate it all. I don't mean to sound like too much of a sap, but I do like Christmas." He grinned and his hazel eyes lit up. "I was one of those kids who tried to wait up to see Santa Claus every year. Never made it."

Emma had to smile back as pleasant memories came to the fore. "My sister tried that, too. We'd both stay up but we'd fall asleep."

"I think my mom put Benadryl in my hot chocolate," Luke said in a conspiratorial tone, then wiggled his eyebrows.

Emma couldn't help but giggle. "That would have been...creative on your mom's part." She looked around as they walked down the street. There were a lot of people but she didn't feel crowded. Stores had all kinds of Christmas decorations on their doors and in their windows. For the first time in a long time, she wondered if she should get a tree.

It took a minute to realize Luke was talking to her. "A friend of mine is in this choral group, so I did want to see it. I've heard them rehearse and told him I'd make it to the performance. You sure this is okay? I can go another time."

"What?" Emma blinked as she processed his words. "No, no, this is fine. I...I haven't been to any kind of concert in a long time."

"Well, this will be a good one to start with." They walked a little more, neither speaking. Luke was checking to make sure he hadn't missed the building, and Emma was lost in a mix of thoughts and memories.

"Ah, here we go." Luke put an absent hand on her arm to stop her, and Emma was surprised at how warm it felt. "Doesn't look like much out here, but it's nice on the inside."

Emma took a minute to look at the front as they walked up to the door. It was a plain red brick front building, perhaps three stories tall all together, sandwiched between two taller buildings. A set of eight or ten steps led up to doors that were wooden and worn, with crosses etched into the panels. It looked, Emma thought, serviceable.

She let out a long breath when they stepped inside, and heard Luke laugh.

"Yep, that's what I thought when I came in." He took her hand. "Come on, let's find a seat." She let him lead the way to an usher, who handed them a program and led them to seats in a pew a few rows back from the altar.

"This is so pretty." Emma's eyes were wide as she looked around. The pews were plain, dark wood, and the walls were decorated with drapes of pine needles worked through with gold ribbon. Red and white flowers stood in small vases at intervals along the walls, and green candles blazed in sconces below paintings of biblical scenes, hung in lieu of stained-glass windows.

"I think so." Luke shifted down the row and Emma followed. He gave her one of the programs. "I'm not much of a church person, I admit, but they are pretty this time of year."

Emma nodded as she skimmed the program, trying to ignore the tight sensation in her chest. It was a traditional Christmas program, with religious and secular songs, and ending with "Ode to Joy" by Beethoven. She stared at the listing: "O Little Town of Bethlehem," "Silent Night," and then one that almost made her cry—"Do You Hear What I Hear?" That had been her and Lila's favorite song to sing together.

"Emma, are you okay?" Luke touched her arm, and she looked up to see concern on his face.

"Yes, I'm fine. I..." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's just...this brings up a lot of memories for me."

"Bad ones?" Luke studied her. "We can go if you'd like."

"No." She shook her head. "I can't keep running away from memories."

Luke was quiet for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "No, you can't." Emma realized with a start that she'd never considered that Luke might have his own problems. He always seemed so relaxed at the diner, joking around with Sol, and even her. And you were too wrapped up in yourself to even laugh half the time, she scolded herself.

She wanted to say something, to apologize, but the lights went down and the music began, softly at first. For the first time since she'd realized what she'd done to Lila, Emma opened herself to the music and let the sounds wash over and through her. Christmas songs were comforting, she thought. Her hands worried at the program she held while she made herself pay attention to everything. It was like going back to school for a subject one hadn't studied for years; even familiar things surprised her.

Luke leaned over to point out his friend in the chorus, a man about Luke's age and height, and she nodded. The lights went down and the man stepped out of line to sing "O! Holy Night." Emma bit her lip, recalling the time in school that Lila had performed the same song, with Emma playing the piano accompaniment. Lila had had the better voice, Emma thought, although her own wasn't bad.

As the strains of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony faded, Emma applauded along with everyone else but was still lost in the music.

"That was...that was wonderful," Emma said as they made their way out. "I haven't done anything like that in so long. Thank you."

"I'm glad you liked it." Luke took her hand and guided her away from the crowd at the doors. "I was a little worried for a while. You looked kind of upset."

"It's a long story." Emma couldn't meet his eyes. "I didn't mean to worry you. I just didn't expect to be hit with all those feelings."

"I know what that's like."

They were quiet for a while as they walked when Emma remembered something. "You told me you had to get an idea out of your head earlier, but you never explained. What did you mean?"

"Oh." Luke looked a bit sheepish. "I'm a writer. Or, well, I'm trying to be. So I had this idea for a story, and of course it hits me about ten minutes before I was going to leave. But I just had to write it down or I would have forgotten, and I hate when I forget things like that."

"What kind of things do you write?" Emma wanted to say she knew what that was like, but wasn't ready to answer the questions that would follow.

"Hmmm. Realistic fiction, I guess you could say. I like to read a lot of genres but just writing about people like you and me, in the current day; that's what I seem best at. It's what I'm most comfortable doing."

"That's great. Have you been published anywhere?" Emma was conscious of his hand still holding hers and hoped he wouldn't let go any time soon.

"I've had a few short stories published here and there. I had an agent but things went south with him. Turned out he was embezzling from his clients." Luke shook his head as Emma gasped. "Not me, I mean. I didn't have enough worth taking, but he had some other ones. So I'm looking for a new agent but also trying to do some things on my own."

"Oh." Emma cleared her throat. "That's too bad. I hope you find someone else and have better luck." Memories of Sam came roaring into her head and she tried to ignore them.

"I will." Luke sounded confident. "That's what I like about the city. There's a lot of other things to try when one doesn't work out."

"So, why do you drive the carriages?" Emma was curious. "Doesn't it take time away from your writing?"

"Actually, it's a big help." Luke guided her onto a path in the park. "I listen to people talk and get lots of ideas. Not just for plots, but for how people talk, how they act and interact. And Christmas is best."

"Why?"

Luke considered. "I guess to put it simply, people are happier. Not everyone is, I realize, but the people who take rides with me usually have something special going on. Just last night this guy proposed to his girlfriend."

"How sweet." Emma blinked back tears. She'd given up on such nice things happening to her.

"So I listened," Luke continued, "and you know, even then it isn't all easy. They argued a bit—she doesn't take any crap from him, let me tell you—but she was bowled over when he asked. Before, though, they were talking about how hard it is when he travels, and he does that a lot. I think he was an athlete. When it was all said and done, she accepted, so I guess they can deal with it."

"I guess so." Emma nodded, lost in her own thoughts.

"And what I take away from something like that is wondering how people deal with separations. I might work that into a story sometime."

"It would be interesting."

"You know, you're pretty slick." Luke looked down at her and grinned.

"Me?" Emma was taken aback.

"Absolutely. Here I am, all ready to ask you questions and get your story, and you get me talking without even trying."

"Oh...I didn't mean to be rude, or anything like that."

"No, no." Luke smiled. "It's just funny to be on the talking side for once."

"It's just as well. My story...well it's nothing very original." Even so, Emma was seized with the desire to tell him. Then, just as strongly, the fear of how he'd react grabbed her and she fell silent.

"I think everyone's story is a little original," Luke said. "After all, it happened to them, and each person is unique, right?"

"I guess so."

Luke sensed that Emma wasn't ready to give him her story yet, but he didn't mind. He was having a nice time, more relaxed than he'd anticipated it might be. Given how shy and reserved Emma was at the diner, he'd been a bit afraid that she wouldn't say anything the whole time. Still, he'd seen that look on her face a couple of times at the concert, an expression that he was sure meant music was special to her. He'd like to see it again.

"So, are you from here?" Luke asked, then was surprised when Emma tensed.

"Um. No. I moved here a few years ago."

She said nothing else, so Luke filled in. "I came about five years ago, myself. I was raised on a farm." He grinned. "I guess that's why I drive the carriage. You know, can't take the horse out of the boy..."

Emma gave a small smile. "I always think the carriages look so...different. From another time. I see you drive by, you know, from my apartment. At Christmas, especially, when you all have the top hats and old-fashioned coats, I can almost believe we're in Dickens' London or something."

"That's a nice image." Luke winked. "But I can't do a cockney accent, and I think that's required."

Emma laughed. "I bet you could do it."

""Ere, guv'ner, 'ow about a royde?" Luke attempted to sound like a cockney driver, failed miserably, and Emma laughed harder.

"I think that might work in Australia," she told him.

Luke was pleased he'd managed to get her to laugh. "Told you so."

x-x-x-x

Emma sighed as they took a break, got some hot chocolate, and sat at a tall table in the little coffee shop. Her legs were tired, she wasn't sure how she'd make it through her shift, but she'd had the most wonderful time. Luke had asked the occasional question about her, taken her short and evasive answers, and not pressed. Instead he'd point to people on the street and make up funny little stories about them, with his terrible accents, and she'd laughed more than she had in years.

"See that woman?" he'd said, pointing to a tall woman in a fur coat. "She's the wife of some CEO, but she really runs the company. Has the minks specially raised on diets of caviar so that their fur is shiny, so that she has the softest, shiniest coat. Her husband's afraid to tick her off, because she'd get half the money in a divorce, and so he has the minks imported from Russia."

Emma had grinned and laughed despite how silly it sounded. "Do they have minks in Russia?"

"You bet." Luke had nodded. "But the important part is, underneath it all, with her opera tickets and ballet performances..."

Emma had waited, biting her cheek to keep from laughing, for the rest. "She listens to Barry Manilow and wears flannel pajamas."

And so it had gone all day. Emma had loved his ridiculous stories, and walking around with him under the Christmas decorations, hearing carols as they walked by stores. It was frightening, in a way, to find herself enjoying the season. Then she remembered Millie's mother and the idea that Christmas was a time for new beginnings. Perhaps it was time she made one.

"Hey, would you like a carriage ride?" Luke asked.

"Oh...I don't know. I guess. How much are they?"

Luke shook his head. "No, my treat."

"You don't have to do that, Luke. I don't mind the fare, I..."

"No, like I said, my treat." He paused. "Think of it as an early Christmas present."

"Oh." Her throat tightened. "That would be nice."

"It would. Look, Emma, I'm having a good time today and I'm trying to stretch it out. Christmas is...not an easy time of year for me in a lot of ways."

"Me, neither," she admitted. "I'm pretty alone."

"Well, then." He squeezed her hand. "Let's go take that ride and neither of us will have to be alone for a while longer."

x-x-x-x

A week later, the diner was busy and one of the other waitresses was sick, so Emma came in early to help. She hadn't minded; since her day with Luke, she'd been in a wonderful mood. They'd gone out for a little while before her shift today, and he'd kissed her before saying good-bye. A light, curious kiss that had made her feel dizzy with delight. Even the piano in her apartment didn't seem to loom in the corner; she knew it was ridiculous, but she thought the instrument looked almost friendly these days.

She'd bought a Christmas decoration to set on her kitchen table, and was more talkative when Sol and Luke came in to eat. Even if she'd tried to hide it, Millie would have noticed the difference in the way she carried herself, or the way she talked.

"Must have been some date." Millie gave Emma a sidelong glance. "You're still thinking about it."

"It was so nice. They all have been." Emma sighed. "He's so sweet, and so funny. I wish I'd met him a long time ago. Before...before I met Sam."

"Don't you even think about him." Millie cursed under her breath. "He's trash and he's out of your life. You need to realize it for good, and act like it."

"I know, I know." Emma nodded. "You're right. Being out with Luke again today made me realize it. I've been punishing myself, but it's long past doing anybody any good. I've been so stupid, Millie. I let Sam ruin everything. I can't write, I can't sing. I haven't been able to enjoy Christmas at all, and it used to be my favorite holiday. Mine and Lila's."

"Then you start enjoying it." Millie tapped Emma's hand for emphasis. "Tell you what, I'll help. You come in a little early tomorrow and we'll decorate."

"How come you haven't decorated already?" Emma asked. Last year she hadn't even thought about it.

Millie shrugged. "Seems like a lot of trouble, and I'm not always in the holiday mood. This year, I am. So we'll decorate."

"All right."

x-x-x-x

Luke tried not to rush as he put the horses in for the night. He was anxious on two counts: first, to see Emma, and second, to write. He'd woken up earlier out of a dead sleep, written what he could remember of his dream on the first thing that came to hand, and gone back to sleep. When he'd seen it before work, he'd been elated. An almost complete outline of the story was in his head. He knew that when he did sit down to write it, he'd have no trouble.

Before that, though, he wanted to share it with Emma. They'd managed to steal some time to talk while she worked this last week, and she'd been nothing but encouraging about his writing. He'd opened to her about it more than he had to anyone else, even his friends from the classes he'd taken and writing groups he'd joined. There hadn't been time for much more than that, though.

"Come on, hurry up!" Sol grumped at him from the door. "I want my coffee. She'll be out at this rate."

"Right." Luke threw him a dry look. "And if there's one thing Millie would never make more of, it's coffee."

"You never know."

"All right, I'm ready." Luke grabbed his gloves. It hadn't snowed yet, but it felt like it might any minute.

"And another thing," Sol said as they walked, "don't you take up all Emma's time. You like her, fine, but I want my food. And coffee."

"You're a true romantic, Sol. Your wife must drown in all the roses you buy." Luke wondered if Emma liked roses.

"Pah!" Sol snorted. "Roses, what a rip off."

"You say so."

They entered the diner and were surprised to see Christmas decorations up. There were lighted Santas and snowmen in the windows, a wreath hanging on the door, and even a little tree on the corner of the bar.

"Wow." Luke looked around. "I didn't think Millie ever decorated for anything." He spied Emma clearing a table and smiled at her. She smiled back, a little shy, and continued putting the dishes in the plastic tub.

Sol led the way back to their usual table. Emma came and took their orders, then hurried back to hand them to the cook. Just as Sol was about to complain about waiting, she came back with their coffee.

"Sorry." She took a minute to get her breath back. "I don't know why but it was pretty crazy right before you came in. I think we get more people now while they're out shopping. Then Marco, the cook, had some kind of crisis and Millie had to calm him down."

"What did she do?" Luke asked. He reached for a handful of creamers, ignoring Sol's scowl.

"I think she said she'd fire him if he didn't get himself together. Marco made a quick recovery."

"Millie has a way with people," Luke acknowledged.

"What's with the decorations?" Sol wanted to know. "She didn't do this last year."

Emma shrugged. "She said she was in the mood this year."

"Women," Sol grumbled. "'In the mood.' Pah."

Emma bit back a laugh and shared a smile with Luke. She shook her head and went back to get their food. After the plates were on the table, she went back to the bar and plopped onto a stool.

"Wow, Millie. I don't remember ever being that busy. I feel like I walked holes in my shoes."

"You and me both. I'll have extra bunions, I bet." Millie handed Emma a drink of water. "Here, drink this. Won't do me any good if you get dehydrated."

"Yes, ma'am." Emma downed the water faster than she'd intended, surprised by how thirsty she was.

"Okay, hold the fort. I'm going to check on Marco."

Millie headed back to the kitchen, and as soon as she was gone, Luke took the stool next to Emma.

"Hi."

"Hi." She smiled at him. "How's your writing going?"

"Really good. I wanted to tell you, I had this great idea when I was sleeping. I think if I can just sit down and start writing, it will come...just flow." He put his hand over hers. "I had to tell you first, though."

"Luke, that's so sweet. I'm flattered." Emma didn't know how she managed to keep her voice steady.

"It's only fair. You were my muse."

"What?"

"I kept thinking about how you looked during the concert last week, and you mentioned memories. So I got this idea, sort of a flashback thing, I think. About a woman who loved music and she's reflecting on things as she approaches her last performance. You know, past loves, her discovery of music, things like that."

Emma was dumbstruck, but Luke was too enthused to notice.

"I know it must seem weird that I'm going to tell this story about a woman, and mostly from her point of view, but it just feels like the right way to do it, you know? So I was thinking, I'll need your help." He squeezed her hand. "I keep meaning to find out about you, and your music, and things like that. I don't mean that I want to tell a story about you, necessarily, but maybe you can help me with, I don't know...how you feel about music, or how a woman would act in a certain situation, or..." He paused for a breath and looked at her, stunned to see tears on her face. "Emma, what is it?"

"I...I don't...I can't do that. You don't know..."

"Look, Emma, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." He took her hands in his. "I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault." She shook her head and wiped at her eyes. "I know you like stories, Luke, but you won't like mine." She got up and darted into the bathroom.

Luke sat for a moment, bewildered, then went back to the table with Sol.

"What happened?" Sol gave him a curious look. "She ran away like a rabbit."

"I don't know." Luke shook his head. "I was telling her about my story idea, how I hoped she could help me with some things, but then...I don't know."

Sol made a dismissive noise. "Women. Been married to one for forty-five years and I still don't understand them."

Luke stared at the table and ignored his food, trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. He went over it in his head and came up blank. He heard some dishes clatter and looked up to see Emma clearing a table. She wouldn't look at him.

A few more minutes, he decided. He'd give her a few minutes to collect herself and then he'd go talk to her. To distract himself, he listened to Sol grumble and complain, making the appropriate responses when necessary. Gonna be a long few minutes, Luke thought.

x-x-x-x

Emma focused on the dishes, then on wiping the table, and then on taking the dishes into the kitchen and placing them by the sink. One task at a time, locking her mind onto the mundane work so that her thoughts didn't follow any other tracks.

"Whassa matta?" Marco asked her.

She'd never been able to quite place his accent. One day he sounded Italian, the next day Spanish, and once she'd sworn he'd sounded French. He had a multi-ethnic look that confounded any attempt to speculate on his background; she suspected he liked it that way.

"Nothing. I'm okay." She took a deep breath. I'm okay.

"No, you ain't." Marco shook his head. "You look white like a ghost. Like you scared. What you scared of?"

Everything. "Nothing, Marco, really. Don't burn that burger."

He scoffed. "I never burn nothin' I don't mean to. Now, it's Christmas," he said in a reasonable tone. "So, you stop lookin' like a ghost. That's for Halloween."

"Right." Emma shook her head and went back to the main floor, ignoring her fluttering stomach. Luke had come close—so close—to what had happened. Except he'd left out the dark things. Couldn't see them, perhaps. She pressed her fingers to her eyes; she didn't want him to know the dark things.

You're being ridiculous, she told herself. If she wanted to be friends with Luke, or more, she couldn't keep everything back. It would be hard to tell him, but shouldn't she try? Wasn't it all the lies that had cost her Lila and any other friends she'd had?

"Are you all right?" Luke had come up and taken a seat at the counter. He looked concerned.

"Yeah, I am." Emma leaned against the counter. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run off like that. I was just...scared."

"Listen." Luke sat in front of her and nudged her chin up. "Why don't you and I go for a ride tomorrow and you tell me about it? I'm not looking for story material or anything else. I just want to know about you, and what happened."

After a silent moment, Emma nodded. "Okay. But..."

"But what?" He smiled and let his finger trace her cheek.

"But you have to tell me your story, too." She put a shaky hand up and held his hand in place against her face. "You haven't said much, but I know there's something."

"Okay. Deal."

x-x-x-x

The next day, Luke arrived early at the stable and began hitching up the horses. He'd done it so often that he was able to let his thoughts wander, and they wandered to Emma. What would she say, he wondered. What would he tell her about himself? He'd been distracted ever since he'd proposed they talk, and hadn't slept well. Writing had been an exercise in futility.

None of it had been helped by the phone call he'd made. As he did every month or so, he'd called home. His mother had answered, but as soon as she'd heard someone else come in the room, she'd hung up.

Nothing to be done about it, he reminded himself. Concentrate on Emma.

He'd just gotten the horses hitched when he saw Emma walking down the sidewalk towards him.

"Hi." She met his eyes, looked away, and then looked up again.

"Hey." His voice was soft. "You're early."

"Am I?" She looked at her watch. "I guess I am. I live just down the street, so it doesn't take long."

"Really? Where do you live?"

She gestured behind her. "About four blocks that way."

"No kidding." Luke shook his head and chuckled. "I must pass your place every day."

"You do." She gave him a shy smile. "I watch the horses go by, it's my favorite part of the day."

"Well, come on." Luke held out a hand and forced a grin. "Now you can watch from the carriage. It's a completely different perspective."

Emma took his hand and climbed up in the carriage. She huddled into her coat, cold despite a hat, gloves, and scarf.

"Here." Luke reached back and got a blanket. "I keep a few of these around." He winked. "Never know what people might need."

Emma laughed and arranged the blanket over her legs. "You seem very prepared."

He shrugged and snapped the reins to start the horses. "Never hurts."

Emma bit her lip; something was bothering him. The smile and the wink—they were genuine, but there was something underneath. She knew how that felt. Pretending to smile when you wanted to cry; forcing down the anger; acting as though you had the Christmas spirit when you didn't.

"Can I ask what's wrong?" She laid a tentative hand on his arm.

"Nothing much." Luke shrugged, then smiled at her. "I'm a terrible host. I should be telling you about all the landmarks and historical buildings."

"It's okay. I'd rather talk about you." She took a deep breath. "Or to you. That was the whole point of coming out, right?"

"Yes, it was." Luke put one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. "So. What was that all about yesterday?"

Emma sighed. "You really want to know?"

"Yes, I do."

"Okay." She closed her eyes. "My sister, Lila, and I came here about three years ago. We sang together...I did the music, and wrote the lyrics, and we thought we had had something."

"I bet you did." Luke squeezed her.

"Then we met Sam. Sam Hollings. We were playing in this little club and he just..." Emma felt herself blush and wiped at her eyes. "I guess I was just too stupid. He was handsome and slick and I believed everything he said. He told me...oh, God, he told me I didn't need Lila, that I did all the work and she was just dead weight. He said she was holding me back. I believed him. He was wrong, but I believed him."

Luke was silent for a while. "Then what?"

Grateful that he withheld comment, Emma made herself continue. "I made an effort at first to say no, Lila and I were a team. But he kept at it and at it. He told me I didn't need her, that he had all these...contacts or something from people who were interested in me, if I would dump Lila. Then, I swear I couldn't tell you the first time it happened, but he got me on drugs.

"I can't believe that. I mean, I never wanted anything to do with drugs. At all. Lila and I, we were like, the cleanest kids ever in school. Then somehow..." She ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know. It happened. I remember some things but not others."

"When you want something, really want it, it's hard not to do everything to get it." Luke kept his arm around her and his voice was low. "Pressure is hard to resist, especially when the pressure is made to seem like it's good for you."

"Yeah." Emma rested her head on his shoulder. "And I was so easy to pressure. He must have been laughing at me the whole time."

"Did he ever hurt you?"

"No. I know it seems like he would have, and he did get me drugs, but he never hit me or anything like that."

Luke nodded but said nothing. Protective instincts reared up with the desire to bash Sam's head in, but he took a deep breath. Can't do anything now, he thought.

"Anyway, I guess the rest is short, and you probably know what's coming." Emma pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes and nose. "I told Lila I agreed with Sam, that he found someone who was interested, but only in me. I told her I'd try to bring her in later, but..." She shrugged. "Lila knew I didn't mean it. I was too strung out and too hung up on Sam. We were at this party, a Christmas party, when I told her. She left and I haven't seen her since.

"I stayed with Sam for a while, because I did believe him. I kept writing and singing and he kept saying, oh, sorry, it didn't work out but I have another guy I want to talk to. I was such an idiot."

"No," said Luke, "he used you. It's no sin to believe in someone."

"Except he didn't believe in me." Emma let out a half-laugh. "I was just someone to, I don't know...keep his bed warm, amuse himself. Then one day I was supposed to meet him and I got there early and I saw him talking to this girl. I walked up and just knew, you know? He told me how it just wasn't working, he had to focus on whatever-her-name-was, and could I have my stuff out by the next morning. I kind of...fell apart after that."

Emma was drained, and they were quiet as the horse clapped along the street. There was more to the story: how she'd been on the streets for a couple of weeks, then found a girl she'd met through Sam, and who knew his MO. She helped Emma get back on her feet, get into rehab, and then later, she'd met Millie and gotten her job and apartment.

After a few blocks, Emma said, "You know what one of the worst things is?"

"No, what?"

"Every sort of milestone, every bad thing, happened around Christmas." She shook her head and brushed away some straggling tears. "Lila and I made our promise to come here on Christmas. I chased her away at a Christmas party. Sam dumped me at Christmas."

"It's tough when those things happen at the holidays." Luke nodded in agreement.

"I haven't been able to write a note, or a word, or sing since that. Sometimes it...I feel so empty." Emma felt better for telling him, although her stomach was in knots. She hadn't told anyone about that.

"Sometimes," Luke said after a while, "when I go a while without writing, I feel like that. Empty, and worried I might not have more to write about."

"But you get past it?"

"Yes. So far." Luke sighed as they rode a bit further. He guided the horses around the corner, stalling for time. It was his turn to talk, even though he was still processing what Emma had told him.

"Luke, you don't have to say anything." Emma patted his arm and he wondered if she'd read his mind. "It was so good of you to listen to all of that and...well, you don't have to say anything you don't want to."

"No, I do." He looked down at her. "That was the deal, remember?"

"Luke, really—"

"No, no." He shook his head and gave a small grin. "I can't go back on my word, especially now. What would Santa think?"

She laughed, a sound that warmed him through and that he wanted to hear again.

"I can't say mine is quite as dramatic, but..." He shrugged. "I wanted to be a writer. My dad wanted me to be a farmer. I decided I had to follow what I wanted, so I left and they never forgave me."

"Oh." She squeezed his arm. "I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault." He flicked the reins. "I call every so often, but I never get anywhere. I think my mom would talk to me but her loyalties are torn so she doesn't." He scoffed. "It's ridiculous, really, since my younger brother is all about the farm. It's in his blood; hell, it's in his DNA. And don't get me wrong, I love it, too, but it's not..." He searched for the words. "It's not the right thing for me. Writing is."

"So here we are, the two of us, alone at Christmas," Emma observed.

"I guess." He gave her a questioning glance. "What happened with Lila?"

"I don't know." Emma shook her head. "Our father died about two years before we came to the city, and our mom remarried about a year after that. We didn't care for her husband and it was mutual, but we tried to get along. For her sake, you know? Then they moved. Florida. I called once, left a message...they never called back."

"So you don't know where she is?" Luke was surprised. "They never called to say she showed up?"

"She might not have gone to them." Emma felt her throat tighten up and forced the words out. "Like I said, we didn't get along. But she never...never called me, or anything. We had one cousin, but we weren't close, so I don't think she would have gone there, either. I saw a few people we both knew, but they hadn't heard from her." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I miss her so much."

"I'm sure she misses you, too." Luke rubbed her shoulder.

Emma nodded but didn't say anything. She did miss her sister. They weren't twins, but they'd often felt like they were. They finished sentences for each other, picked on up on moods without saying anything...they had been best friends.

"I hate to say it," Luke told her, "but we have to get back. You probably need to get to work and so do I."

"I do." Emma paused, then bit her lip. "Will I see you after? At Millie's?"

"You bet." Luke turned the horses again and they headed back to their starting point.

"You know, I'm always surprised that the horses aren't frightened," Emma said, talking over her relief at Luke's answer. "The cars go speeding by, honking, but the horses just keep going along. They must trust you."

"They do." Luke chuckled. "Or I like to think they do, but really, it's the blinders. They can't see the cars, so they aren't scared."

"I wish I could be like that." Emma sighed. "I feel like I'm scared of everything sometimes."

Luke pulled the horses to a stop and turned to her. "Not me, though, right? You aren't scared of me?"

She shook her head. "No, I couldn't be."

"Good." Luke cupped her face and kissed her. She feels so soft, so warm. Luke dropped the reins over his knee and put his other arm around her to pull her close. Emma responded with a sigh and gripped his jacket. After a moment, he pulled away. "Wow."

"Yeah." Emma nodded, then twisted her fingers in her lap. "I...I've never even dated anyone since...I wasn't sure anyone would want to once I told them."

"Don't be silly." Luke kissed her again, this time with a little more force. "I only wish I had more time to kiss you. Think Millie would let someone else take your shift?"

Emma giggled. "I don't think so. She's pretty strict about that."

"Rats." Luke laughed as well and wrapped his arms around her. "I'd much rather stay here with you than ride around in the cold."

"I like being with you, too." Emma colored after she said it. God, he'll think you're back in high school, she thought.

"Good." He kissed her once more, taking her by surprise. Her lips were parted and he ran his tongue over them, making her grip him tighter and sending goosebumps racing over his body. "I think we should find more ways to be together," he said, and Emma hoped her answer was apparent in her response to his kiss.

After a few more minutes, Emma pushed herself away with some regret. "That feels great, but I'm not sure you want Sol catching us doing that."

Luke rolled his eyes. "He'd probably tell me how I was doing it wrong."

"No, you weren't."

"Thanks." Luke held her again. "You're right, I hate to go but we better. I will see you later, okay?"

"Right." Emma waited until Luke got down from the carriage and held out a hand to help her before she followed suit. She started to step back but he grabbed her hands.

"You'll be all right, won't you?" He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

"I'll be okay." Emma nodded.

"Good." Luke kissed her forehead. "Christmas is coming and I want to spend it with you."

Her eyes welled up at the words. "Thank you. I'd like that."

x-x-x-x

Emma was too busy to reflect on her day with Luke, although she wanted to. Those kisses, she thought, bore particular reflecting. She smiled at herself. What's gotten into you? Even she knew the answer: Luke.

The bulk of the shift flew by as Emma, Millie, and the other two waitresses dealt with the crowd. When things calmed down, one of the other girls begged Millie to go home, and Millie agreed.

"Why don't you ever leave early?" Millie asked as she wiped the counter. "You've earned it, that's for sure."

"Oh, one day I will." Emma yawned and stretched. "I don't have anywhere to go, though, so there's no point."

"I bet if Luke was free, you'd be out of here like a shot." Millie gave her a knowing look.

"If Luke was free, I'd like to see him." Emma kept her voice neutral.

Millie scoffed. "'Like to see him.' Listen to yourself. You're in love with him, or almost, and that's the best you can do? Why, if I were younger, I'd be stealing him for myself."

"What...what do you...I'm not in love with him, Millie." Emma shook her head and ignored the butterflies that tumbled in her stomach. "I mean, we're dating but we haven't been for that long."

"Like that matters." The older woman bustled over. "I've seen you since you've started spending time with him, and I know what love looks like. You've both got it. Don't mess it up." She wagged an assertive, calloused finger at Emma. "It's Christmas and you have a gift. Keep it."

"Um. Okay."

As customers drifted in and out of the diner, Emma pondered Millie's words. In love with Luke? Was she? She remembered thinking she'd never fall in love with anyone after what had happened with Sam; among other things, that had wreaked havoc on her trust in her own judgment. Surely, after knowing Luke for only two and a half weeks, she wasn't in love with him. She couldn't be. Besides, she thought as she cleared a table, even if she was, she had no idea how he felt.

But you'd like to, a voice inside her said. She set down the tub of dishes and sighed. Yes, she'd like very much to know how he felt. That, and where Lila was. Emma frowned as she took a rag over to wipe some tables.

She should look for Lila again. She should call her mother and keep calling until she had an answer. She should go back over the friends they'd had at home and see if Lila had contacted any of them, however briefly. Then, she thought, she'd have to talk to people they'd known when they'd known Sam. The idea made her stomach flip, but not as bad as she might have expected.

You can handle it, she told herself. It's in the past. Even if you have to talk to Sam, you can do it. "I can," she said allowed. "I can do that."

"You say something, Emma?"

"Sorry, Millie." Emma shook her head. "I was just thinking out loud. Sometimes things feel more real when you say it out loud."

"Okay." Millie nodded and they both turned as the bells over the door jingled.

"Evening, ladies," Luke called as he and Sol came in. Sol mumbled something and made a gesture that might have been a wave. Luke looked at Emma and shook his head as he followed Sol to a table.

Emma couldn't help the smile that escaped, and Millie pushed her towards the men. "Go on, go take their order. Say hi to your boyfriend but don't forget the food."

"Hi," Emma said as she walked over.

"Hi." Luke stood up and kissed her on the cheek.

Emma blushed, half from the kiss and half from Millie's cackle from across the floor.

"Knock that off," Sol grumped. "I want kisses, I'll go to the movies. I want coffee, lots of coffee."

"Don't mind him," Luke said as he sat down. "He's just overwhelmed with the Christmas spirit."

"I'm Jewish," Sol reminded him.

"So what? It can still overwhelm a person. What do you think happened to the Grinch?"

Emma tried not to laugh but it was difficult. "What, um, what would like, Sol?"

"Meatloaf. And mashed potatoes." He narrowed his gaze. "With extra salt."

"You got it." She bit her lip and turned to Luke. "What would you like?"

You, all to myself, he thought, but caught himself before he said it out loud. "Meatloaf sounds good."

"All right. It'll just be a few minutes." She nodded and left.

Luke stared after her until Sol smacked his shoulder. "What?"

"Stop staring. You kids today. No manners."

"Oh, knock it off." Luke rolled his shoulders. "I bet you've stared at plenty of pretty women."

"I stared at one, then I married her. Watch yourself, kid. You're going down the same path, I can see it." He gave Luke a pointed look.

"Sol, it hasn't been that long. And I don't think looking at someone means a marriage contract." Luke denied it reflexively, but the idea of being with Emma was...nice. Someone to take care of, someone to talk to, someone to share Christmases with. Luke sighed. The holidays don't usually turn me into such a sap, he thought. Maybe Sol's on to something.

Emma brought their food and he couldn't help smiling at her. She'd come out of her shell in the last couple of weeks, at least with him. Her eyes were brighter, she was less shy, and she smiled more. She hadn't sung for him, even though he'd asked once or twice. He hadn't pressed, but part of him couldn't wait to hear her sing.

His novel was coming along, the easiest and best thing he'd written, he was sure. The story of a woman who loved to sing, and her reflections on how her singing had affected her life, and vice versa. He worked on it every spare moment, to the point of taking a recorder with him in the carriage so that he wouldn't miss any idea that might help.

"Luke, do you need something?"

He blinked and realized he'd been staring. "No, sorry, I...just spaced out for a minute." Sol would have to be right, Luke thought. I do love her.

"Okay."

He caught her hand as she turned to leave. "I'll walk you home after your shift, okay?"

"Sure, but it'll be late." She was puzzled. "Don't you need to go and work on your book?"

He shrugged. "It can wait a little."

"If you're sure." Emma smiled when he nodded. "I'd like that, thanks."

Sol snorted after she'd walked away. "Listen to you."

"What now?" Luke gave Sol an exasperated look.

"Bet Hemingway didn't postpone writing for a girl. You're a lost cause, son. Might as well admit it."

"He might have if he'd met Emma." Luke raised his coffee cup in a toast.

x-x-x-x

"It was really sweet of you to walk me home." Emma squeezed Luke's arm as they approached her building.

"You can thank me by inviting me up." He coughed and feigned a shudder. "I mean, it's so cold out. I should warm up, I think. Maybe some hot chocolate? You wouldn't want me to get sick, would you?"

"No. I..." Emma took a deep breath. "It's not much, but you can come up."

Emma opened the door and stepped in, apprehensive about what Luke might think. She hadn't done much of anything to the apartment. The previous occupant had left a couch and bed and the piano. Emma had found a table and other necessary pieces of furniture, but the place was still bare of decoration on the walls.

"It's nice." Luke looked around. "Plain, but nice."

"No, it isn't." Emma shook her head. "I haven't done anything in here except hide."

"Do you play the piano?"

"No, I..." Emma didn't know what to say. What could she tell him? That she was afraid of it? That it seemed to taunt her with all the things she used to be able to do? "No, I haven't played in a long time."

"Well, you will."

Emma wished she had his confidence. "Maybe. I should do something, though...I never even put up a picture."

"I'm sure you'll find something." Luke put a hand on her back and rubbed lightly. "I could help. I don't know much about art or anything, but I could help. I have this neat black velvet Elvis you could borrow. He's dressed like Santa so it's even good for the holidays."

Emma laughed. "I bet you do have that." She grew quiet and looked around. "I don't like it here. I don't like me here."

Luke hugged her and kissed her forehead. "Come on, let's have that hot chocolate."

They settled on the couch with their mugs after Luke found some Christmas music on the radio. He put an arm around her and pulled her against him. "See, it's not so bad now."

"It's better with you here." Emma closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. "I've been so lonely, and it's my own fault."

"You had a tough time." Luke rubbed his cheek on her soft brown hair. "I can understand."

"I think...to Sam it was all a game." Emma sipped at her drink and stared at nothing. "How long he could string me a long, and I guess maybe he thought he might hit it lucky with me, he'd get a deal and make some money. I was no good at the game." She shook her head.

"Games are a waste of time. I think, anyway."

Emma gave a short laugh. "I tried to play it his way, tried to learn the rules. He'd always tell me I 'dropped the ball.' Either I didn't sing the right song, or my voice was off, or I wasn't aggressive enough. I lost friend after friend, after Lila, trying to do things his way. The day I found him with that other girl, I finally saw what the future looked like with Sam. There wasn't one. So I know it was good I got out, but..." She swallowed. "But it's hard."

"I know." Luke shifted on the couch and pulled her closer, careful not to spill their drinks. "When I came here, as happy as I was to be here, I had days where I was pretty bitter about how things had gone down with my family. I'd get kind of depressed on days like Christmas, or birthdays."

"I think it's terrible they won't to talk to you." Emma rubbed his arm. "I know my mom and I don't get along too well, but she never tried to stop me doing anything, or make me feel guilty about it."

"That's good." Luke was silent, then changed the subject. "You need some Christmas decorations."

Emma sighed. "I bought one. It's on the table there. I...oh, wow, if I say it, I'll sound like such a martyr."

"Martyrisms are excellent fodder for writers, so tell me." Luke winked and she chuckled.

"It just occurred to me in the last few days that I've been avoiding Christmas, and other things I like to do, because I feel like I don't deserve them. How dumb is that?" Emma stared at her mug to avoid looking at Luke.

"It's not dumb, Emma. And neither are you." Luke took their mugs and set them on the floor, then turned and wrapped his arms around her. "You did some bad things, but you know it now and you're sorry. You're trying to make it better, I can tell. That counts for a lot."

"You think so?"

"I do." He kissed her; a slow, reassuring touch of lips on lips. "You have to move forward, you know that. As upset as I was, I stayed and kept writing. You should start writing again, and singing."

"I thought...I thought I'd try finding Lila again." She closed her eyes as Luke stroked her hair. Being so close to him had her body waking up in ways it hadn't in ages. "And when I thought that, I think felt something kind of open, if you see what I mean. Like maybe I could write something again."

"I think." Luke kissed her. "You should write something." Another kiss. "Anything." Another, this time on her neck, and she shivered. "Just try." Instead of a kiss, he flicked his tongue over the pulse in her neck and she jumped.

Emma gave a shaky laugh. "I don't think I could write anything while you're doing that. It's distracting."

Luke laughed in return, a low rumble that made Emma's stomach flip. "I didn't mean now."

He caught her lips again and cupped the back of her head with his free hand so that she couldn't get away. Emma sighed and parted her lips, feeling first tentative, then light-headed when Luke's tongue swept in and met her own. Sparks erupted through her body and she clutched at his shoulders even though she knew he wouldn't let her go.

"Do you have any idea how good you feel?" Luke slid a hand under her sweater and smiled to himself as he felt her tremble. Her skin was smooth and warm, and he wanted to feel it against more than just his hand.

Emma dropped her head against his shoulder. She was somewhere between thrilled and terrified. Luke's kisses made her head swim, and his touch sent warmth shooting through her body, erasing the cold spots she'd carried inside for so long. She'd never expected to feel like this; had stopped hoping anyone would want to make her feel like this. His hand slid higher and she bit her lip, not moving, not sure what to do.

"Emma? Emma." Luke pulled back when she stiffened but kept his hand in place. "Are you all right? Do you want me to stop?"

"I...no, but I..." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's been so long and after everything that happened with Sam, I didn't think anyone would ever...want me."

"Emma, that's all in the past." He nuzzled her cheek and then held her close. "And I think it's pretty obvious that I want you."

"Luke, I..."

"Shhh. It's all right." He nudged her head down and stroked her hair some more. "Just because you want something doesn't mean you should take it right away. Besides." He put a finger under her chin and moved so he could see her face. "Christmas is coming."

Emma smiled, then laid her head down again. Christmas is coming. A time for new beginnings. I should make one..

x-x-x-x

As Christmas approached, Emma found herself ever busier at the diner. One of the waitresses slipped and fractured her leg, and Millie couldn't find anyone to cover, so everyone worked extra hours. Luke was deep in his novel when he wasn't driving the carriage, and their time was limited, although he made a point of walking her home after her shift. It wasn't much, but Luke would come up and they would talk for a while, and kiss for a while more.

Emma smiled as she thought about the kisses. Luke made her smile, she thought, and it was a good feeling. He'd been right; everything with Sam and Lila was in the past, and whatever fault was hers, she couldn't pay penance for the rest of her life.

One night, to her surprise, she found herself wanting to write a song.

She debated for a moment, then took a deep breath and turned to face the piano. It stood there, as it had for two years, but this time it wasn't taunting her, reminding her of what she'd lost. Instead, she thought, it was inviting her to start getting things back.

She walked over, laughing at herself when she saw her hands shaking. It was silly, she thought, that she should be afraid of the instrument that had brought her—and Lila—so much joy, and fun. Especially at Christmas.

Running her fingers over the yellowed keys, she recalled Christmases when they were younger. They would sing songs, solo and together. As they got older, they would teach their younger cousins the words. She'd tried writing Christmas songs, but they'd all seemed too treacly, and had decided that the traditional carols were the best. Instead of writing new songs, she and Lila had tried making their own versions of their favorites, and "Do You Hear What I Hear?" was the one they'd liked best.

So, Emma thought. She sat down and winced at the sound of her first chords. I can't write Christmas songs, but I can write a song for the man who helped me find my songs again.

x-x-x-x

Luke yawned and stretched as he sat in front of his computer. The stretch only served to underscore how sore the muscles in his neck were, so he stood and rolled his shoulders. In an automatic move, he saved his work before going into his small kitchenette for a drink.

The novel was flowing, as he'd expected. And it was good, he was sure it was. Rough, but good. He was confident but not arrogant; every writer needed an editor. He would make as clean a copy as possible, and he knew someone would go at it with scissors, if not shears, but damn it—he'd make them work to cut anything.

Emma was infiltrating the novel. He couldn't help it. He shook his head and smiled at himself. She wasn't just finding her way into the novel, but into his life, into him. Some days it was torture to tear himself away to write when he wanted to be with her.

He rubbed his eyes as he reached into the fridge. The milk was bad. The beer wasn't. He dumped the milk and drank the beer.

He hated leaving Emma in that small, blank apartment. Not that his was much better, he thought. It was messy. Guy messy. Lived in, he corrected himself. He hadn't bothered with Christmas decorations, even, since he'd been so immersed in his writing. At least Emma had found herself the little Santa tabletop decoration, complete with sleigh and reindeer.

Inspiration struck. It was too close to Christmas to bother decorating his place—but he could decorate Emma's. He had a box of stuff in storage that he could use, and he was sure he could cadge his way in somehow. The trick would be getting into her apartment, and he couldn't think how he'd get a key, but he was set now that he had a plan.

Emma had forbidden herself Christmas for the last couple of years, but he was going to change that.

x-x-x-x

"It's Christmas Eve. Go home already." Millie planted herself in front of Emma. "You've worked a shift and a half already. We're closing soon and I can handle it."

Emma looked around. Only two booths were occupied, and one man sat at the counter, a friend of Marco's. Christmas carols drifted through the quiet.

"I can stay, Millie. I mean, what if there's a last-minute rush?"

"Rush?" Millie made a noise between a snort and a laugh. "I've had this place longer than you've been alive. We ain't never once had a last-minute rush on Christmas Eve. And I'm closed tomorrow, so you'll have to find something else to do."

"I think..." Emma almost couldn't believe she was saying it. "I think Luke and I will spend the day together."

"Well, then." Millie slapped her towel on the counter in approval. "It's about time."

"I got him a present. Made him one, I mean. I don't know if he'll like it. Maybe I shouldn't. It might not be ready." Emma's words tumbled out in a rush. "I might not be ready. I don't know. I—"

"Oh, hush up, girl." Millie scowled. "It's a present. He'll love anything from you."

The door open, bells jingled and cold air blew in as Luke and Sol entered the diner. "Merry Christmas, ladies." Luke flashed a grin and Emma felt her heart skip a little.

"Yeah, yeah, Merry Christmas and close the damn door." Millie put her hands on her hips. "If I wanted to be cold I'd turn on the air conditioning."

"Ah, Millie. I couldn't wait to see you today." Luke strode over and kissed her on the cheek before she knew what happened. Emma had to slap a hand over her mouth as Millie did the unprecedented and blushed.

Sol roared. "Good one, boy! About time someone did that!" He laughed all the way back to his seat.

"You, either." Luke turned to Emma. "I was hoping you might be able to leave a little early. I have a surprise for you."

"Oh. Well." Emma blushed, too, and cleared her throat. "Millie was just trying to make me leave, so I guess I can."

"Good." He kissed her. "Just let me get some food in me and I'll be good to go."

"Sure." Emma nodded and Luke walked back to join Sol. She turned to Millie, who was frozen in place. "You okay, Millie?"

"I don't know whether to thank him or smack him." Millie shook her head to clear it. "My God, I haven't been surprised like that in...a long time."

Emma laughed. "It's Christmas. Time for surprises, right?"

"Not for me." Millie was brusque. "Now, you go get their orders so we can all go home. I've had enough of this. It's Christmas Eve, for God's sake, and my bunions need a rest. I'm putting up the closed sign."

Emma ignored her nerves until Luke and Sol were finished and Luke was ready to walk her home. Then they surfaced with a vengeance.

"Ready to go?" Luke smiled as she went back for her coat. She found herself blinking back tears when he held it for her, a gentlemanly gesture she hadn't had from anyone in longer than she could remember.

"Yeah, I think so." She did up the buttons and pulled on her hat and gloves. "Good night, Sol. Good night, Millie. Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, yeah, Merry Christmas." Millie looked up from the register. "Remember, we're closed tomorrow so you can't hide in here."

"Ignore her, Emma." Sol came up and, much to Emma's surprise, gave her a grandfatherly kiss on the cheek. "She's just an old grump, like me. You have a nice Christmas."

Luke stared at his friend, stunned.

Sol scowled. "What? I'm overwhelmed by the Christmas spirit." He pushed the door open and left. There was a moment of silence, and then Luke and Emma burst out laughing. Even Millie couldn't keep her lips from twitching.

"Go on, get out of here." Millie jerked her head towards the door. "I'm closed."

Still laughing, Emma stepped out while Luke held the door for her. Luke draped an arm around her shoulder. "I wish I'd had that on camera. Evidence that Sol has a heart."

"Of course he has a heart." Emma elbowed him in the side. "He just likes to cover it up. He has more fun being a curmudgeon."

"Curmudgeon is a tactful way of putting it." Luke stopped at the corner and took her hands in his. "Okay, enough talk about Sol. Let's talk about us, and Christmas."

"Okay. What about it?" Emma looked at him, curious and a little apprehensive.

"Well, I'd like to spend it with you." He kissed her forehead. "If that's all right." He gave her wry grin. "If you don't want to, I can say okay, I'll be the suffering artist but I'd much, much rather be with you."

"I would really like that." Emma looked down at their intertwined hands. "I am so...tired of being lonely and sad on Christmas."

Luke could imagine, all too easily, what her last couple of Christmases had been like. He was determined to change it, for both of them.

"Then come on. Let's go inside, have some hot chocolate, sit by a tree and listen to some music." He tugged her hand and they crossed the street.

"Wait." Emma was puzzled. "Where are we going?"

Luke grinned. "You'll see."

Her puzzlement grew as they walked closer to her apartment. She'd expected that he might call a cab to go to his place after his words about sitting by a tree. Yet he continued walking down the sidewalk, turning onto her street, and saying nothing. Well, if his idea of a tree is a spider plant, then I guess we'll go to my place.

Luke opened the door to her building and as they went up the stairs, she got the first indication that he was nervous as he pulled at the hair near his collar. She also realized that he looked exhausted. He'd shaved, but there was a light stubble on his cheeks and he had circles under his eyes.

"Luke, are you all right?" she asked as they passed the first landing.

"Me? Sure." He turned back to her and grinned, but tugged at his hair again.

"You've been writing too much." Emma put a hand on his arm. "You've been writing and driving and not sleeping. You should just sleep."

"Maybe later." He covered her hand with his. "I'm fine, Emma, really. Come on."

He stepped back at her door and let her unlock it, but put a hand on the knob before she could open it.

"What?" She looked up at him and he was lost for a minute in her soft brown eyes.

"I just...I hope you like it." He turned the knob and the let the door open.

Perplexed, Emma pushed the door and stepped inside, then stopped. "Oh..." She looked around and wondered if she'd stepped into the wrong apartment.

There were lights hung around the windows, and candles on the little kitchen table. An assortment of snowmen, Santas and angels were on the table and the windowsills and a tall, smiling Frosty stood by the door. Emma covered her mouth with a shaky hand as Luke nudged her inside and shut the door. She looked to her left and saw a tree.

It wasn't tall, or wide, but it had a star on top and ornaments on the branches. Garland hung, albeit crookedly, from the branches. She loved it.

Christmas carols floated up as Luke stepped over and turned on the CD player he'd brought earlier.

"Luke...you did this? For me?"

"Only if you like it." He took his coat off and draped it on a chair, then coaxed hers off as well. "If you don't like it, I'll blame it on gremlins."

She laughed and it caught in her throat. "I thought it was elves at Christmas."

"Elves, then." He slid his arms around her from behind and pulled her back against him. Her body felt warm and inviting and when he dropped a kiss on her head, he could smell the fresh scent of her shampoo. "Do you like it?"

"I love it." Emma wiped at her eyes. "I love it. How did you do it?"

"I wish I could say magic, but it involved much begging." He chuckled. "I got in when your neighbor was going in, and then I got your super to let me in."

"The super?" Emma stared at him. "George? He doesn't even like to let his own tenants in."

"True." Luke nodded. "However, his wife is a dewy-eyed romantic and I suspect, under his own curmudgeonly exterior, so is George. So he let me in. After his wife threatened to lock him out."

"Oh, my God." Emma walked over and touched the tree, gently, as though she was afraid she'd break it. "I can't believe you did this."

"I did it for you, and for me." Luke stroked her hair. "I thought we'd both had enough of sad Christmases. My place was too messy, so I decorated yours."

She stared at the tree for a moment, then turned to him. "I can't thank you enough. I love it." Emma wrapped her arms around him and was relieved he did the same to her. "I love you." They were quiet for a moment, and then she realized what she'd said.

"Um. I..." She pulled back and combed her hands through her hair, trying to decide what to say. "I can't say I didn't mean that. But I know it may not be what you want to hear, so...if you could just not say anything right now..." She tried to laugh. "Just think of it as a Christmas present for me, okay? I mean, not that this wasn't a great present in itself, but you..."

"Emma, hush. It's fine. It's...fantastic. I love you, too." Now that he'd said it, the rest of his apprehension fled. He rested his forehead against hers and said it again. "I love you."

"Oh, Luke." Emma felt tears well up again. She was afraid to believe this was all happening. She hadn't meant to tell him, at least not yet.

"Hey, don't cry." Luke kissed her, long and slow, hoping to use his lips and touch to soothe her. "This is good, isn't it?" He started to sway with the music. "It's a better present that I ever expected."

Emma found herself trying to laugh and cry at the same time. "I wouldn't let myself think about it, or hope for it. But when I saw everything, what you'd done for me...I couldn't help it."

"I have one other present, and I hope it doesn't change your mind." Luke gave her a quick kiss and went over to the tree.

Emma followed and stumbled; she was surprised to see a mattress on the floor, with pillows and quilts. She'd been so surprised with the decorations that she hadn't noticed. She was about to ask him about it when he turned and held up a brown box with a bow on top.

"Here. I'm a terrible wrapper so I decided to save us both the aggravation."

She took the box and opened it. There was a pile of paper, bound at the left. Her jaw dropped as she read the top page. "Count the Stars, by Luke Thornton." She looked up at him. "It's your novel. You finished it?"

"I did." Luke gave in to a yawn. "Remember when I told you it would flow? Well, it did. Like a river. If it weren't for Sol dragging me out to work, I might have just kept going."

"No wonder you look so tired." She reached up and stroked his cheek; he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"It was worth it. At least I think it was." He led her over to the couch and they sat down. "Anyway, we can talk about that more later. The point is that you were my muse, and so I want you to read it first."

"Me?" Emma stared at him, then at the box. "But Luke, I...I never helped you or anything. You asked me that one day and then..."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I think it's better, really, that I just wrote what was in my head and what I researched. You can tell me what's wrong with it, with the parts about music or anything else. But I just can't send it to anyone else until you read it. It's...I wrote it for you."

"I've never proof read anything except term papers." Emma hugged the box to her. "I can't wait." She leaned over and kissed him. "I have something for you, too."

"Really?" He gave her a sly grin and stole another kiss. "More of those?"

"No." Emma put the box down and went over to the piano, butterflies swarming in her stomach.

Luke bit back whatever he was going to say. Emma looked so nervous and he didn't want to do anything that might stop her.

"I..." She sat down on the bench and lifted the cover. She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his eyes. "I wrote a song. I wanted to play it for you. It's not much, but..." She cleared her throat. "Well, if you wrote your book for me, then I wrote this for you."

"I can't wait." Luke smiled.

Emma took another breath and willed her hands and voice to be steady as she played. It wasn't much of a song; she had thought it best to start simple. She'd even laughed at herself, thinking that it wasn't as though she was trying to run a marathon. Still, she'd gone for an easy melody and hadn't driven herself crazy with the words either, she just let them flow.

She played a set of scales, settling herself before she started her song.

Luke was quiet, watching her. He'd never seen her with her music before and he was entranced. When she started to sing, he couldn't imagine her doing anything else.

After she finished, Luke waited until she stood before stepping over and dragging her against him. He managed a "Thank you" before capturing her lips with his.

Emma sank into him, into the kiss and felt happier than she had in years. Happier than she could ever remember being. Playing the song for him and his reaction had lifted a weight from her. She had Luke and her music back—what more could she want?

She lost track of time as Luke pulled her back down to the couch, then kissed her and touched her as she did the same to him. His arms were strong and she loved the way his hands felt as they stroked her back, and then her sides.

"This couch is not very comfortable," Luke told her as he trailed kisses along her jaw and neck.

"No, it's not." Emma giggled as Luke shifted, then cursed as a spring poked him in the hip. "Which reminds me. Why is there a mattress on my floor?"

"Ah." Luke brightened and sat up. "That's where we wait for Santa Claus!"

"What?" Emma laughed.

"Hey, I did enough of this as a kid to realize that if you're going to fall asleep while waiting up, you might as well be comfortable. So I brought out the mattress, I have the makings of hot chocolate—including marshmallows and whipped cream—and I thought we could snuggle up and wait for the man."

"Snuggle? And here I thought guys only wanted one thing." Emma stifled a laugh.

"Oh, I want that, too." Luke rocked his hips to prove his point and Emma bit her lip. "Hot chocolate isn't the only thing good with whipped cream."

"Oh. My." Emma blushed, eliciting a deep chuckle from Luke.

"Come on. It's late. Let's get comfortable."

They disentangled and got up from the couch. Emma decided to get a shower and was tempted to ask Luke to join her but decided she wasn't quite that brave. Luke teased her by pretending to invite himself in, but stopped when she covered her face in embarrassment. They both laughed at that.

Luke decided he'd take his own shower after she was done; working with horses, while he enjoyed it, was messy work. If you didn't need a shower afterwards, his brother had often said, you weren't doing it right.

His brother, Luke thought with a sigh. He had to end this standoff with his family, and Keith was probably the way to start. If he went to his mother, no doubt she'd feel disloyal to his father and Luke had no desire to put her in that kind of position. So it was Keith. It's a little early for resolutions, but what the hell.

He heard the water start running and his body reacted as he thought of Emma standing under the spray. He wanted to be in there with her, but this would be better. And, he decided as he turned on the stove to heat the milk for the hot chocolate, the mattress was far less dangerous than the wet tile in the bathroom.

When the milk began to steam, he turned the heat down to low. The water shut off and he closed his eyes, now picturing Emma stepping out of the tub, water running down her arms, her legs...I'm going to kill myself if I keep this up. He shook his head and concentrated on finding the chocolate and marshmallows.

"Hi. Shower's yours if you want it." Emma stood in the hallway and looked up at him with wide brown eyes. She wore a plain white robe over a red nightshirt, and her dark hair hung in damp waves to her shoulders. "What?" She felt self-conscious when he frowned.

"Nothing, it's just..." Luke reached out and toyed with a lock of her hair. To him, she was perfect, but when he made himself look, he saw how old the robe was and how frayed the shirt. He knew money was tight for her—the city wasn't cheap—but he suspected the condition of her clothes reflected what she thought she deserved, and that wasn't much. He'd change that.

"Nothing." He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her fingers. "I was just thinking that I'm going to finish that book, sell the movie rights, and then you won't have to do anything but write music. No more waiting tables." He released her hand and ran one of his under the lapel of the robe. "You deserve better."

Emma's heart went into her throat as she realized what he meant, and he was right. Treating herself like this got her nowhere; she would face everything, find her sister and go back to her music. She would do all of that—tomorrow. Tonight was for the two of them.

"I warmed the milk for the hot chocolate. You can put it together whenever." Luke wrapped his arms around her. "And I like lots of whipped cream," he murmured in her ear.

They both laughed and Luke went off for his shower. Emma placed the mugs on a tray, along with some Christmas cookies one of the other waitresses had given her the day before. She was looking forward to...snuggling with him. Some doubts nagged at her and she tried to shake them off. She hadn't been with anyone since Sam, and Sam had never been complimentary about that side of their relationship.

Doesn't matter, she counseled herself as she dropped the marshmallows in the hot chocolate. I'm starting over. It's time to look forward, not back. Luke knows what happened before and he doesn't care, so I won't either.

"I'm ready for that hot chocolate."

She turned and Luke was leaning against the doorjamb. He'd gotten comfortable, as she had. He wore gray sweat pants and a flannel shirt, unbuttoned.

"Good timing." She smiled. "It's ready."

She walked over to the mattress and handed the tray to Luke as she sat down. She took it back as he dimmed the lights and came back to sit on the other side.

"How did you know I like that?" she asked.

"Like what?" Luke took his mug and added more marshmallows.

"Sitting with just the tree lights on." She sighed and slid her feet under the covers. "I used to love to get up early after we had the tree done, before anyone else was up and it was still dark outside and turn on the lights. Sometimes I'd even fall back to sleep but that was one thing I loved. Lila wasn't crazy over it—she liked to sleep late—but she'd come with me sometimes."

"You look like someone who needs lights." Luke leaned back against the pillows he'd piled up. "I could see you writing a song in front of a fireplace, or in a room with candles, or maybe out on the balcony with the moon and the stars shining down..."

She laughed. "How poetic. You are a writer."

"I try."

They were quiet for a while, listening to the music. Then Emma said, "I used to sit at the window a lot, once I got this place. I'd kind of...well, I guess I was feeling sorry for myself. I was lonely, anyway. So I'd sit by the window and look out and not be able to sleep. I'd wonder where Lila was, which didn't help with the sleeping. Then I'd count as many streetlights as I could. You can see fifteen from here, by the way."

He chuckled. "I bet you can." His expression softened and he rubbed her back. "Then what?"

"When I ran out of streetlights, I'd count the windows in the buildings across the street." She moved back, closer to him. "I'd wonder where Lila was and I'd wonder if I'd ever find anyone...for me."

"Will I do?"

Emma smiled and set her chocolate down, then snuggled down next to him. "Better than I could have imagined."

"Good." Luke set his mug down and slid his arms around her. "You know, it's a little early for resolutions, but I've decided that after the holidays, I'm going to call my brother and try to straighten all this family stuff out. It may not work but I'll give it one last shot."

"That's great. I'm going to look for Lila." Emma ran a finger along his arm. "Really look. I'm going to get in touch with my mom and make her understand what's going on, if she doesn't already see it. I've been making a list of people we knew, from home and here. She may not want me to find her, I guess, but I have to look."

"I'm proud of you, Emma." Luke tilted her face up to his. "You went through a lot, alone, and you came through. I'm here, though, so don't think you still need to do things alone."

"You just keep on giving me presents."

"And I'm not done." Luke's smile was warm and wicked and Emma felt a delicious answering tingle in her body. "Come on, let's get under the covers."

Emma slipped her robe off and did as he suggested, glad for all the blankets even though she felt herself getting warmer all the time. She laid her head against Luke's chest and heard his heart, racing like hers was.

Luke bit back a groan of relief as Emma's hands touched him, moving idle circles over his stomach. Did she have any idea how good that felt? Her hands weren't smooth—working as a waitress didn't lend itself to soft, silky skin—but he didn't care. They moved over his abdomen and he was torn between wanting her to stop and wanting her to touch him everywhere else. He had to distract himself for a few minutes, at least, and decided a kiss was a good way to start.

Emma sighed as his lips found hers, and his fingers combed through her hair. She wiggled closer to him, anxious to keep him close and feel him next to her. He teased her lips with his tongue until she parted them and then he gave in to his desire and held her in place while he deepened the kiss. He rubbed his tongue against hers, tasting the sweetness of the chocolate and marshmallows. He had an idea.

"What are you doing?" Emma sounded dazed as he pulled away.

"I was just thinking. That shirt is kind of messy. You'll want to take it off."

"What?" Emma looked down. There was nothing wrong with it, aside from age. She let out a surprised shriek as Luke squirted whipped cream on the front of it.

"Ooops. Sorry." Luke didn't even try to feign innocence. "It slipped."

"I'll just bet." She shook her head and blushed a little. "I guess...I guess I should take it off."

Luke's smile turned gentle. "I'll help." He did, and they managed to remove it so that a minimum of whipped cream hit the sheets. After she'd put it on the floor, he held the blanket back for a minute so he could look at her.

Emma swallowed. "I don't...think this is quite fair. You're still practically dressed."

"True. That's not fair at all." Luke took of his shirt and pants, and then pulled her to him. "This is much better."

"I...yes." Emma closed her eyes and drank in the feel of their bodies together. She hadn't been this close to anyone in so long. She hadn't trusted anyone, least of all herself, to get close. It was still a risk, always a risk, but she trusted Luke. "You're so warm."

"Emma..." He said her name but anything else fell away as he kissed her. He lingered on her lips for a while, but then shifted and kissed her neck, pleased when she turned her head to make it easier. A drop of whipped cream was on her cheek from before, and he grinned.

"I almost forgot."

"What?" Emma's eyes got wide. "What are you doing?"

"I told you I liked whipped cream, and not just on hot chocolate."

Emma squeaked as he pressed the nozzle and squirted some on her shoulder and then lower on her chest. "Luke, I...Oh." He put more drops on her side and hip, and with that same sly grin, on her breast.

"Be still," he said. "Wouldn't want to get this on the sheets."

Before she could say anything else, he began to work his way down her body, making her jump as he licked the whipped cream away. She bit her lip as he licked and nibbled at her side, tickling her but not allowing her to move. When he moved back and took her breast in his mouth, she gasped and arched up to him, startled by the twin sensations warmth of his mouth and the coolness of the cream.

As his tongue flicked over her nipple, he eased her to her back and ran his thumb over the other. Emma closed her eyes and put her arms around his shoulders, both to keep him close and keep herself from floating away.

I'm driving myself crazy, Luke thought. He had thought the cream would be fun, a way to heighten the anticipation for both of them, but now he wondered if he'd even last long enough to enjoy the effect. Emma's body, and the way she responded to him, were more than he'd dreamed of.

He nipped at her shoulder and she sighed. He flicked his tongue over the pulse point on her neck and her nails dug into his arm. The slight sting snapped his control and this time when he kissed her, he didn't hold back. His tongue swept in and he tunneled his fingers into her hair to keep her there for him. She gasped his name when he came up for air and he groaned at the sound, rocking his hips so that his erection slid against her smooth skin.

Emma didn't think she could feel any better, and then Luke's hand slid between her legs and her eyes widened in surprise. For a moment his hand rested there, cupping her, and then his fingers began to explore. She parted her legs at his unspoken request and took a shuddering breath as he moved his fingers in slow motions.

Luke had to stop himself at first, but when he felt how wet she was, he wanted more. It was a fight to restrain himself but he wanted Emma to enjoy everything, and not to scare her. He knew she was nervous, but he wanted to show her it wasn't necessary, not with him.

So he stroked in long, gentle motions before slipping his fingers inside her a little. "Oh, Emma..." He repeated the move and then brushed over the spot that sent her reeling into orgasm. He kept his rhythm slow and steady, raising up on one arm so he could look at her. The lights from the tree danced on her skin as she shook underneath him and with reluctance, he stopped his hand, although he left it in place.

"Emma, I swear we will do this again, and for a longer time, but if I don't get inside you, I think I'll go crazy." His lips brushed hers as he spoke, and he felt her breathless smile.

"I'd be a liar if I didn't admit...I want that myself." Emma's hand drifted down over his back, then moved under his body until she found him, hot and hard and aching. She stroked his shaft with lazy movements, smiling when he hissed out a breath and dropped his head back.

"Emma, you're killing me."

"We don't want that." She put a hand on his face and guided him down so she could kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Which reminds me." With a small grumble, Luke moved and reached into the pocket of his sweat pants. He pulled out a foil envelope and sighed. "Not to take the romance out, but..."

Emma shook her head, helped him put it on, then leaned back and pulled him to her. "Thank you."

He moved over her and rested his weight on his arms. "I love you, Emma." He shifted as her legs wrapped around his waist and he slid inside her. "Oh, God, you feel so good."

How he managed to pace himself, he wasn't sure, but he did. Her body was warm and wet around him and he didn't ever want to leave. He slid one arm around her shoulders and braced himself on the other as he moved in measured strokes, determined to make it last as long as he could for both of them.

Emma gripped his shoulders and closed her eyes as she came again. She'd never felt like this with anyone, ever. Luke's body over hers, in hers, was like magic. She opened her eyes and saw his half-closed in concentration.

"Luke, you...oh..." Another orgasm raced through her and she bit her lip.

"Emma." As her body contracted around him again he let go. He found her lips again with his and refused to let them go as he thrust faster. He felt the wave approaching and let it happen, calling out her name as his climax grabbed him and wouldn't let go.

After a moment of disorientation, he rolled to his side and took her with him. Another few minutes and he felt confident enough to sit up and dispose of the condom. He laid back down and pulled the blankets over both of them, keeping Emma close to his side.

"You feel so good, Emma." He ran a hand down her back, over her hip and along her thigh. "I have wanted to do that for so long."

She gave a quiet laugh but pressed herself closer. "We've only known each other for bout three weeks. That's not very long."

"True." He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips. "But I've been watching you for longer, wondering what your story was."

"And now that you know?"

"I want to help you write the rest of it."