The smell of grease and stale coffee clung to her skin, reminding her for the umpteenth time that being a waitress sucked. But it paid the bills. And that was what was important. She was certainly not going to cash any of her father’s checks or take any of her grandmother’s pity money. Besides, she’d learned to live with the smell. Not that it was an easy smell to get rid of either. She had tried. Oh, how she had tried! But there wasn’t much she could do to remove it. Not at work, anyway. There was always another burger to be fried up or plate of fries to be served and the coffee didn’t stop brewing until the closed sign was flipped over for the night. Really, it was pointless anyway. There were still many hours to go before she could rush home and try to salvage her skin under the spray of a hot shower and bottle of essential oils. Cold cream was a godsend in situations like this.

So it wasn’t a surprise that Elizabeth was only three hours into her shift and already antsy to leave. There was just something so anticlimactic about the day. Falling asleep last night, she’d felt so comfortable and protected and this morning she'd woken up feeling like she was soaring high above the clouds. And now, facing a mound of dishes and never-ending customers, she didn't know what had made her think she could ever be that free.

She observed the few customers that still lingered from the breakfast rush. In the corner was a middle-aged man decked out in cowboy boots and a leather vest. The tall Stetson he'd first walked in with sat on the chair beside him keeping him company. The tassels hung down and a small broken feather swayed when she walked by. The man was on the road and though he looked gruff, he was actually kind of sweet. He kept insisting on calling her Ma'am, even though she was half his age. When she'd dropped a canister of sugar, he'd even gallantly offered to help her clean the mess. Chivalry was, in fact, not dead after all.

Then there was Mrs. Greenwood, an old widower and the resident town gossip. Mrs. Greenwood came in five times a week, always for breakfast and always alone. She seemed content to be alone while she ate her toast and sampled her juice. She was always polite and Elizabeth didn't mind answering her ample questions about anything and everything. They had a sort of understanding, Mrs. Greenwood wouldn't ask about Elizabeth's personal life and Elizabeth--knowing that Mrs. Greenwood was on a fixed income--wouldn't take any payment for her meal.

The lady was harmless, really. The biggest news day usually entailed a new visitor in town or some scandalous affair and the poor offspring, just the usual mix of things that her and her tea party friends could discuss over arts and crafts.

The cowboy in the corner paid no mind to Mrs. Greenwood either, even though she'd been staring at him for the past half-an-hour.

A few rowdy children chased each other around, while their very pregnant mother sipped her herbal tea and rubbed her tired back. The woman looked a few years older than Liz. Her hair was stringy and her clothes, while not brand new weren’t particularly ratty and despite the dark circles under her eyes, she'd given Elizabeth a smile and apologized for her wild little ones. Elizabeth had smiled back and told her she didn't mind.

And she didn’t. She liked the noise and the excitement. She liked the innocence and uncompromising joy that flitted in their eyes. She wished she could get that excitement and innocence down on canvas. She wished she could get anything down on canvas! She had her sketches, landscapes and the buildings around the monastery. And they were okay. But they weren’t… They didn’t say anything. They didn’t mean anything. They were just pictures. Just drawings.

And then there were the sketches that she couldn’t even bring herself to look at in public. Those were the ones she’d drawn of Jason. She knew there was more there on the paper than just a portrait.

Pulling out her sketchbook from under the counter, she took a moment to roughly sketch the cowboy, the children, and the beautiful swell of the pregnant woman’s belly.

Taking that moment for herself, she realized she'd been touching her own stomach, imagining how she would look if she were pregnant. The thought absolutely terrified her, because she wasn't just imagining her baby. She was imagining their baby. Jason and hers.

It was crazy. She barely knew him. She hadn't even heard him speak! She was going through that quarter-life crisis thing that everyone was always talking about these days. She just knew it.

The clang of the bell above the door alerted her there was yet another customer to attend to. Thankful for the distraction, Elizabeth regained her composure, tossing the sketchbook back in the cubby under the counter and cleared off the tables.

"Liz," called a recognizable voice.

Elizabeth spared a quick glance before she darted into the kitchen. "Hey, Trisha."

Trisha followed closely behind. "I phoned you last night. Don't you check your messages?"

"I-I, uh, never made it home last night." Biting her lip, Elizabeth buttered some bread without looking up.

"Shut up!" Trisha squealed excitedly. "Did you and Jason, you know...hook up?"

"Is that all you ever think about?"

"Pretty much," she answered absently.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and finally looked directly at her friend.

Gripping Elizabeth's chin, Trisha studied the younger girl with horror. "What the hell happened to your face?"

She touched her face, running her index finger over the lines that yesterday had been oozing with her own blood. "Oh man, I thought the make-up covered the scratches. It's nothing. I fell in the woods."

Trisha looked at Elizabeth skeptically. "You fell in the woods?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal. You know me, as clumsy as a bull in a china shop, always falling and banging into things," Elizabeth remarked absently, scuttling around the kitchen in search of the cold meat and cheese.

Trisha studied her.

Elizabeth tried to maintain a clean glide to the refrigerator.

Trisha didn't miss when Liz faltered, relying heavily on one leg and not putting much weight on the other. "Some fall. And look at you! You're limping!"

Bouncing over to her best friend like a little schoolgirl, Trisha took Elizabeth's elbow and turned her around. "Leave this for a minute and come sit with me. We'll talk."

Again, running her slender fingers over the small scratches on her skin, Elizabeth moved stray strands of hair from her face and finally managed to meet the other woman's eye. "I have to make these sandwiches before it gets too crowded."

"The sandwiches can wait a few minutes. Come on, take your break. Sit with me."

She set the food back in the fridge. Arguing with Trisha never got her anywhere but prolonging the inevitable. "Fine. Just for a few minutes, though, okay? The lunch rush will be coming in soon."

"Sure. I can't stay anyway. My mom's sending Travis down to pick me up and you know my brother, if I'm not ready when he comes, he'll leave without me. I hate the holidays! I swear, Liz, you're so lucky you don't have to do any of this holiday crap."

Following Trisha into the hub of the diner, Elizabeth allowed herself to ease down onto a chair, her leg throbbing and thankful for the release. Chewing on her lip, she straightened her apron before looking up. "Actually, Sonny invited me to Thanksgiving dinner."

Trisha's eyes lit up and a knowing smile crossed her face. "That's great! So why do you sound so upset about it?"

"I'm not upset. Not really."

"Then what's wrong?"

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. "It's just that... Jason'll be there."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"No. No, it's just... I'm really starting to care for him, you know?"

"Okay, Liz, you're really confusing me," Trisha said, taking Elizabeth's hand. "I thought you'd be glad to spend time with him. I know you’re into him. You’ve admitted as much. Remember coming to me for advice about the whole seducing him thing? So, what's going on? And don't tell me nothing because I can read you like a book."

"I want to see him... I do. Really. I'm always happy when I'm with him. It's just that I screw up every relationship I've ever been in…not that there have been a whole lot,” she said, beating Trisha to the punch. “It’s just…I-I don't want to do that with Jason. I've never known anyone like him. Like when I fell and he was just there, taking care of me." She felt Trisha squeeze her hand and despite her best efforts, her eyes welled with tears. "He was just so gentle. I didn't know a man could be like that."

"Well, your track record hasn't been the best," Trisha said softly.

Wiping at her eyes with the bottom of her apron, Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Can I tell you something and you promise not to laugh?"

Trisha sat up in the chair and leaned in toward Elizabeth. "Yeah, I'd like to hear it."

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Sometimes when I’m with him… It’s just like…well, it’s like… Have you ever had one of those moments when everything just felt right? When Jason's around…it’s like everything comes into focus. Something happens to me that I can’t put into words. My insides get warm and I-I don’t know…all of a sudden everything that I normally worry about is gone. Things that I think are impossible seem almost within reach—like I could do anything. Just for those few seconds everything is perfect." Elizabeth tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looked around nervously before continuing. "When I fell asleep last night, I had this overwhelming sense that I was safe. I can't remember the last time I felt so protected like that. I think it was Jason. I feel safe with him in a way I never really have before. That’s so stupid, isn’t it?" she said shakily. "How can anyone--a practical stranger, no less--make a person feel all that? I don’t even know what I’m saying… I guess I'm just waiting for something bad to happen. That sounds dumb, doesn’t it?"

Scooting her chair closer, Trisha pulled Elizabeth into a hug.

Elizabeth pulled back from the hug and trained her eyes on the grease smudges on the menu in front of her.

"Don't think like that,” Trisha soothed. “It’s not dumb to want, Elizabeth. It’s never dumb to let yourself feel, okay? Now, can I ask you something without you getting mad?"

“You can try.”

“Are you… Do you think maybe you’re putting too much pressure on yourself?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so. Wait, what do you mean exactly?” she asked, confused.

“I mean, do you think you’re making excuses so you can push Jason away and just, you know, continue to close yourself off from the world.”

“First of all, I do not close myself off from the world,” Elizabeth said.

“You said you wouldn’t get mad,” Trisha reminded her.

“And I’m not. I’m merely stating a fact. I’m not making excuses. It’s just… Everything seems so perfect right now. I just know it’s all going to blow up in my face,” Elizabeth admitted, defeat dripping from her words.

“One day you’re going to have to take a chance on something. Why not now? Why not on Jason?”

“Because…because I guess I’m…scared.”

“Of what?”

“That I’m reading too much into this. That…whatever feelings I may be having are one-sided. That Jason still sees me as this annoying gnat that he wants nothing to do with.”

“I highly doubt any of that is true.”

“But what if it is? What if he just tolerates me for Sonny’s sake?”

“You said he took care of you, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, if he didn’t care, not even a little bit, do you think he would have helped you?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Jason’s one of the good guys. I think he’d probably even help a mortal enemy.”

“You’re not making this easy.”

“Because it’s not. It’s just…it’s not. Look, I didn’t mean for this to become some heavy discussion,” she said, sighing.

“Okay, fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am.”

“Okay. And, hey, I hope you know that whenever you do feel like getting into a “heavy discussion” I’m up for it,” she said, straining for eye contact. “Don’t hesitate to call me. Okay?”

“Okay. Look, I better get back to work."

"Are you going to be alright?" Trisha’s eyes were warm with concern.

"I'll be fine. Now go and have fun." Elizabeth waved her off and watched as she left the restaurant before she turned to go back to the kitchen.

___________

As soon as the lunch rush was over, Elizabeth took a seat and stretched out her tired leg. Momentarily closing her eyes, she was startled when she heard her name. Opening one eye first and then the other, she made out the shape of Paul Callahan. He wasn't accompanied by his regular crew and except for the cook in the back, they were alone.

"Hey, Paul," Elizabeth said, slowly making her way to her feet.

Paul towered above her. "So, Lizzie, how's that boyfriend of yours?"

She blushed remembering the lie. "He's fine."

Making her way to the counter, she tried her best not to limp or show the pain she was in. When she turned around, Paul was already seated at the counter on one of the stools. She picked up a dish and began drying it.

"How'd you say you met him again?"

She stopped moving. The cup she was in the process of drying dangled from her fingers.

Feeling his gaze, she snapped out of it and casually looked his way. "Lucky knew him from his summer job, when he worked at the garage."

"Wait, I thought you said Trisha introduced you," Paul asked, scratching at his stubbly chin.

"Well, she did." Elizabeth bit her lip guiltily. "See, Lucky introduced Trisha to Jason and then she introduced him to me and the rest is history."

"Still, I think you could do a lot better. The guy was seriously lacking in social skills," Paul snorted, thinking himself clever.

Elizabeth allowed a small smile to cross her lips. "Jason doesn't say things just to be polite."

"Yeah, I'm sure he doesn't," he huffed.

"It's kind of refreshing actually. So, can I get you anything?"

"Just some coffee. Make it to go."

"Right away," she said, motioning to get a Styrofoam cup, but then she stopped and faced him. "It was...it was nice talking to you, Paul, and I'm sorry things didn't work out between us."

Paul nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah... Me, too."

Elizabeth thought she saw regret flicker in his eyes. "Right, well, I'll just get your order and be right back."

"Sure."

Elizabeth filled the cup with coffee and handled it over to him, accepting his dollar bill and the change as tip. She only shuddered a little when their hands touched, but for the rest of the day, she had an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.

________
Sonny paced back and forth, back and forth. Ducking into the dinning room, he made sure everything was in order. The table was set in orange and brown linens, festive for the holiday occasion. In the corner was a turkey composed from paper and ribbon. Brenda had picked it up at a craft show, years before, and it always added something special to the room. Not that he had ever felt that it was aesthetically appealing. The thing was hideous. He's teased her about it for weeks and weeks. But she loved it and didn't mind his taunts because she wasn't one to get upset about being different. It came out for the holiday because, in a sense, he could feel her more closely. Could, on some level, pretend she was still with him. Everyone knew it and maybe that's why he kept it around...as a reminder of a life that seemed a hundred years ago. There was also the sentimental side of him that just wouldn't allow him to part with it.

If he closed his eyes and didn't let any sound in, he could almost hear her, see her. Sometimes he imagined it was their house and they'd have half-a-dozen children running around, Dominic included. The house would be chaos: tons of guests, plenty of food and laughter. So much laughter, he could cry from the joy it would have brought him. And he imagined he might have trusted Brenda to cook the turkey after begging for weeks to be allowed into his inner sanctum, the kitchen. That when the smoke alarm would sound and the turkey would be served burned, it would be the best tasting thing in the world because it would have been made by his wife and she would be alive. He would be able to touch her and hear her and love her more than power and money.

And his child, Dominic, would drag him out onto the front lawn to throw around the football and they'd play until the sun went down and their fingers felt frozen. In his head, it was the only thing that kept him going. He lived on thoughts and fantasies, because that's all he had.

For a moment, he stood still, composing himself, before he went over the checklist one more time.

In the centre of the table was a cornucopia filled with tiny gourds, colored Indian corn and squash. The napkins were neatly folded and the utensils were all perfectly arranged. Sonny was a little anal about presentation and wouldn't allow anyone into the room until dinner.

Max arrived a little before everyone else. Not for dinner, but to discuss the current situation with Edward Quartermaine. Sonny ushered him into the living room and gave him a run down of things to do that day to ensure the property was secure.

"Look, Elizabeth will be here any minute, but I wanted to go over some things before she gets here."

"Sure," Max said.

"There was someone in the woods yesterday watching Elizabeth. Now, she thought she had imagined it, but if I know Edward Quartermaine like I think I do, I know she wasn't alone."

"So what can we do about it?"

"I want Craig and Tony to survey the area everyday. Run spot checks at the gate and get Roger to tail Quartermaine. Miss Webber was hurt and I don't want it to ever happen again."

"Is she alright?"

"She's fine. Jason took care of her, but it shouldn't have happened. Quartermaine's got something up his sleeve and I don't get a good feeling about it."

"Don't worry, Mr. Corinthos, we'll take care of everything."

"I know you will."

The knock on the door was followed by heavy footsteps belonging to Johnny and Francis.

Johnny took off his coat, collecting Francis' as well and setting them down over one of the kitchen chairs.

"Anyone home?"

"In the living room," Sonny called out.

Max met them half way.

"You look ridiculous! What is that, a dress?" Francis said to Max, elbowing Johnny.

"Shut up, Frankie. You're lucky I'm wearing this otherwise I'd kick your ass."

Francis scoffed. "Right, like you could."

"Don't tempt me," Max muttered under his breath.

Elizabeth knocked softly before opening the screen door, surprised to find the front door open and the two bodyguards, Sonny, and Max standing around the living room.

Jason was noticeably absent.

"Am I late?"

"Oh, no. Elizabeth, come on in."

"Elizabeth." Johnny tilted his head to the side and gave her a big, warm smile.

"Hey, Johnny," Elizabeth said, putting down the plastic container she'd brought. "Francis. Father Max."

"Hey, Elizabeth," Francis said softly, his cheeks reddening.

"Do I get a thanksgiving hug?"

Francis and Johnny practically tripped over themselves to fold themselves into her outstretched arms. Whoever said chivalry was dead had not spent time in Port Charles. Hugging Johnny and then Francis, Elizabeth took a deep breath and smelt the faint aroma of cigarettes. The smell was vaguely familiar.

"Francis, I didn't know you smoked."

Francis scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. "It's a bad habit, I know."

Elizabeth took another deep breath. She could remember being wrapped up in her grandfather's arms. He had a strong chin and a thick neck that she used to bury her curled hair against. He had this smell on him from the tobacco in the cigarettes he kept in his shirt pocket. She remembered his big hands holding onto the smaller cigarette and the smell of it.

"Marlboro," she said absently.

"Yeah." He blushed.

"You should quit." Closing her eyes, she shook her head. "Ugh, listen to me telling you what to do! It's an old habit. I used to pester my grandpa all the time. He used to smoke Marlboro, too. I can pick out the smell of them anywhere. It's actually kind of... comforting. It takes me back to a time when life was simple. You know, when the Marlboro man was a symbol of what a real men were supposed to be…all rugged and strong…or whatever it is they used to say in those adds."

"Frankie is nothing like the Marlboro man, he just thinks he is," Johnny joked, ignoring the looks from his fellow bodyguard.

"Yeah, well, Johnny--"

Sonny cleared his throat and gave the guards pointed looks.

Francis didn't finish what he was going to say.

"Why don't we go into the living room and I'll bring us some refreshments," Sonny offered.

"That sounds good," Elizabeth said following the guards.

She turned when she realized Max was still rooted in place.

"Father Max, are you going to join us?"

"Oh, I-I...don't want to intrude, but I mean...if you want me to stay..."

"I think that's a yes," Johnny laughed.

Elizabeth slipped her hand through the crook of Max's arm and walked with him through the archway into the living room.

Seated comfortably between Max and Johnny on the couch, Elizabeth sipped tea and ate crackers and cheese to settle her growling stomach.

When Sonny finally settled, she got his attention. "Where's Jason?"

Sonny swallowed his wine and turned his attention on her. "He's in the greenhouse getting some tomatoes for the salad."

Elizabeth was surprised. "Oh, I didn't even know there was a greenhouse!"

Both guards and even Max seemed amused by her innocent statement and barely contained their laughter.

Francis tried his best to stop laughing and coughed to clear his throat. "Sonny likes to have fresh produce all year round."

"He doesn't trust supermarkets. Thinks they freeze their food and don't allow their fruits and vegetables to properly ripen."

"He's a little neurotic about it," Francis stated, rolling his eyes.

"Tell me about it!”

"Freshness is very important," Sonny defended. "If you two have had enough... Besides it's a small greenhouse and I only grow what I can't get in season."

"Sure."

"Right, but that thing was a bi-" Johnny stopped when he caught Sonny's eye and cleared his throat, pulling on his tie that was suddenly choking him. "I mean, it was hard to build," Johnny corrected.

"Like you did any work," Francis scoffed. "I worked twice the hours you did on that freaking thing! I had blisters the size of—"

"Barking orders doesn't count as work, Frankie-poo."

"Bite me. I guess it wasn't all that bad. It did make my biceps huge from all the lifting and carrying."

"Oh, you wish! The only muscle you were working was your fat mouth."

"I wouldn't talk, Johnny."

Sidestepping toward Elizabeth, Francis picked up her tiny hand and placed it on his upper arm, then flexed. "See."

"Very impressive," Elizabeth said, amused.

"That's nothing," Johnny countered, flexing his own muscle. "Here, feel this."

Elizabeth smirked and moved toward Johnny, humoring him.

"Elizabeth, you don't need to listen to these two. I think that's enough bravado for one day, guys. Besides you both know Jason did a heck of a lot more work than the two of you combined."

As if he had a radar device to detect when anyone said his name, Jason stepped into the house. Elizabeth had to concentrate not to stare directly at him. Who knew a simple white t-shirt could be that sexy? She surely had never thought about it. Not until she watched him through veiled eyes and noticed how the material clung to his well-built chest and accentuated his broad shoulders and muscled back.

Everything about him was strong and male. Especially the way he seemed to glide and the even cadence of his breathing. He carried the bushel of fruits and vegetables with ease while his forearms strained and his bright blue veins flexed, even though it must have be heavy.

En route to the kitchen, Jason barely looked up, but he did manage to catch Elizabeth's eye and give her a small smile.

She tried not to show her disappointment when he ran upstairs to grab a quick shower and change of clothes. Then her mind went elsewhere and she imagined how glorious he would look all wet and soapy. She had to bite her lip hard to get the thought to leave her.

When he finally came down to join them, they were already seated at the table. Jason sat next to her, his hair still wet and his skin still damp enough for the hairs on his forearm to stick.

After Sonny said grace, Elizabeth looked up and studied the men in the room. All of them were honest and endearing in their own way, and all of them extruded their best efforts to make her feel welcome and a part of something special.

When tears collected in her eyes, her first response was to bend her head and wipe them away before anyone saw. Just when she lifted her head, her eyes met with Jason's and a very sincere, comforting smile lit his face. She smiled back and cleared her throat. "If you all don't mind, I have something to say before we eat."

The guards, Sonny and Max, turned their attention to her and she could still feel Jason beside her with those kind eyes offering her support.

"I wanted to say... Well, what I wanted to say was thank you. I know thanksgiving is a time for thanks and I never really had a reason to feel good about this holiday, but today...being here, has changed all that. So, thank you."

Max and the guards smiled at her and Sonny squeezed her hand. Jason was less obvious in his approval and when no one was watching, he lightly brushed her shoulder.

Sometimes on days likes these, in moments where everything seemed serene, she couldn't help but feel her mother's presence. She knew somewhere, somehow, she was looking down at her and laughing alongside her and crying in her heart to be near her too.

After dessert--brownies Elizabeth made--everyone sat around feeling like beached whales.

"Sonny, you should really open a restaurant. You'd make a fortune."

"I really don't have any use for money. Besides, I like it here... It's peaceful." Sonny looked out the window, distraction making his eyes go blank.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Yeah, but just think of all those poor, unfortunate people who will never get to taste the brilliant way you cook food."

"It's something to think about," Sonny said quietly.

Brenda wrapped her arms around Sonny's neck and smiled down at him.

"Can you even imagine, Sonny? All those people eating your food. I bet the critics would be blown away."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Sonny laughed, bringing Brenda onto his lap from his place on the sofa.

"I can see it now. People will have to make reservations years in advance!"

"Years?" he asked amused.

"It happens!"

"Where?"

"In New York. Anyway, you're missing the point. This could be a good thing for us. When Dominic gets older, he can work as a waiter and have all the girls flirting with him... Wait, I don't think I like that idea. He'll have to be the busboy, less chance of some hussy stealing my baby that way."

"He's not going to be your baby forever you know."

"I know. Believe me I know. So, what do you want to call it?"

"Shouldn't we find a place before we start naming a restaurant that doesn't even exist yet?"

"Technicalities!” she mused, nuzzling into his neck and pecking his flesh.

"I'll show you technicalities." Sonny laughed, laying Brenda down on the couch and stretching out over her, kissing her passionately.

"I-I'll be right back," Sonny said, standing.

Elizabeth surveyed the room, seeing very somber faces. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong," Johnny reassured her. "I'll go check on him."

"Why didn't I just do what you wanted?" Sonny mumbled to himself. He leaned against the counter for support.

Moving toward the kitchen, Johnny found Sonny taking a few deep breathes. "Sonny?"

Sonny spun around and faced the guard.

"Sorry if I startled you."

"You didn't."

Johnny cleared his throat. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Sonny assured him. "I guess we should start the decorating. Do you mind doing the popcorn?"

"Not at all."

Johnny stalked over to the cupboards and pulled out a jar of corn kernels. "Sonny, you sure everything is alright?"

"Positive."

Sonny took his time on the way back to the living room. He stopped in the hallway to rest his head on the wall. The memory was unexpected and took him for a loop. Death is not glamorous—no matter how they portray it in big Hollywood movies--it still remains as always, final and ugly. Straightening his clothes, he pulled himself together. By the time he got back to the living room, his mood was better.

Sonny directed his attention to the boxes in the corner. "Jason, you've got light duty. Francis is on ornaments. Johnny is popping the popcorn and Max--I mean, Father Max and Elizabeth can start helping me put the tree together."

Everyone but Elizabeth stood and started emptying boxes and pulling out ornaments and lights.

"What the heck is going on?"

"It's tradition. After every thanksgiving dinner, we put up the Christmas tree."

Elizabeth smiled. "Oh, and the popcorn? Is that to eat or string?"

"A little of both," Francis replied.

Looking around the room, Elizabeth felt an overwhelming sense of pride stir inside her. It felt good to get into the Christmas spirit and even better to have good friends to share it with. She was never one to be big on traditions, but she felt that beginning to change.

Elizabeth watched Sonny pull pieces to a plastic Christmas tree out of a box.

"That's the Christmas tree?" Elizabeth asked with a slight snort.

"I've tried to get a real one for years, but Jason won't have it. He thinks the trees look better in the woods and doesn't like putting this one together, but does it for my benefit. Right, Jase?"

Elizabeth bit back a laugh. "Where are the instructions?"

"What would we need those for?" Sonny questioned, completely serious.

Elizabeth stifled a laugh. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe to put the tree together right, so that it won't come toppling down just as we finish with the last ornament."

"Nah, we'll be all right. Besides we threw out the instructions years ago. We just improvise now. What'd you think, Jason, is it time for the duct tape?"

"Duct tape?! You can't be serious."

Jason searched through a box of ornaments and pulled the shiny gray roll out, wagging it around ever-so-proudly.

When it was all put together it looked like a Christmas tree, but to say that it was a pathetic looking tree was being quite kind.

Francis walked over to Elizabeth and passed her a mound of newspaper.

"I think Elizabeth should put up the angel this year."

"Oh no, really..."

"That's a very good idea, Francis. Elizabeth, would you mind?"

“Mind? Not at all.” Elizabeth unraveled the newspaper to reveal a very fragile looking tree topper angel. "It's beautiful."

"My wife picked it out," Sonny said softly. "Let me get you a stool so you can reach."

Going into the kitchen, Sonny came back moments later with a small stepladder and put it down in front of the tree.

Stepping onto the ladder and reaching high, Elizabeth could still not get to the top of the tree. Her leg was still giving her trouble and every time she tried to stand on her tip toes, the ache increased.

"Someone else will have to do it," she said, stepping down, holding out the angel to Sonny, masking her disappointment.

"Nonsense. Jason will lift you up."

Elizabeth's spun around to connect eyes with Jason. She was surprised to find him so close. His face was just as red as hers, but it didn't stop him from taking hold of her waist and gingerly lifting her up. She could feel the heat of his fingers seeping into her skin and it felt wonderful. Surprised at first, Elizabeth regained her focus and placed the pretty blonde angel on top of the tree, setting it so it stood perfectly centered. Jason released her immediately and backed away.

Neither Jason nor Elizabeth noticed the amused faces of the guards, faux-priest Max or Sonny.

She excused herself to go to the bathroom. When she got there her face was hot and her body tingling from where Jason had touched her. She doused her face with water before she made her way back to the festivities.

Elizabeth laughed when she walked into the living room and had to navigate her way through the mass of decorations and lights.

"Johnny, have you picked up the decorations for the Christmas party?" Sonny asked with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eye.

"Whoa, Christmas party? Here?" Elizabeth cleared a path for herself and straightened some of the ornaments on the tree.

"Every year we throw a huge Christmas party in the church basement for the entire town. It’s the one time of year where the priests let loose and the parishioners come and enjoy themselves. It's all for a good cause--to help the orphanage."

"You'll be coming, won't you?" Francis asked. His eyes were wide with anticipation.

"I don’t know."

Johnny put his hand on her shoulder and leaned down a little, speaking gently. "Elizabeth, you have to! There'll be music and dancing and, frankly, I'd be hurt if you didn't at least show up for a little while."

"Okay, I'll be there."

"Great!" The men chanted.

"Sonny, we're going to take off. Francis and I have some business to attend to."

"I should go, too," Max said.

"I'll walk you back," Sonny offered and followed the guards and Max to the door. "I'll just be a minute," he told Elizabeth and Jason.

Jason sat on the couch untangling a twisted mess of bulbs. His hair was a mess and she couldn't help but smile warmly at the tiny strand of tinsel that had embedded itself amongst the dirty blonde locks.

"That's a good look for you," she said cheerily and dug the silver string from his hair, holding it up so he could see it.

He blushed and she found her heart beginning to race when he looked up at her and smiled a slow crooked smile.

"There must be some way to communicate with you, because, frankly, I'm getting tired of the whole shrugging your shoulders thing. You know we can't really get to know each other without speaking, it feels too...second grade."

Elizabeth took a sip of herbal tea Sonny had brought out a few minutes ago, before she spoke again. "I mean, I'm not going to ask you just to start talking, unless--hmm...is that totally out of the question?"

Jason looked up at her with a sad, soft smile.

With the warm tang of lemon still on her tongue, she closed her eyes and imagined what he would taste like. Would he be cotton candy sweet? Or was he more of a savory, hot blend of spices? Whatever the case, she was sure he knew how to kiss. She was sure he would know what to do to have her weak and drowning in him. She was sure he knew how to do a lot of things. But mostly, she was sure she should stop thinking about it.

"Right. Forget I asked. Who am I to make you break your vow, or whatever, anyway?" She laughed nervously and stood up, moving toward the mantle. The glass from picture frames glinted in the falling sun and one that Elizabeth had never really noticed before caught her eye. Picking it up, she studied it. Her back facing Jason, she took in the big bright eyes of a boy that couldn’t have been older than four. The child's hair was a mess of sun-bleached blonde and his skin was tanned golden. His tiny hands clutched a brown teddy bear to his chest.

It was a young Jason.

Elizabeth smiled and turned toward him. "This is you."

Standing, Jason came up behind her and she could feel the heat of him soaking through his shirt and pressing into her back.

She traced the lines of his face. On some level she wished he'd allow her to do the same to him now without backing away.

The timbre of her voice was warm and soothing. "It's a nice picture. You look happy."

His hand bumped hers when he took hold of the frame. She couldn't stop the chill that went through her. She felt a sense of unease. It wasn't like when Paul had touched her earlier. It was different. Very different. It was like a thousand different switches turned on and a colossal, colorful wheel began spinning her around and around; the vibrant reds and blues and oranges pinned to her heart, shaking everything she thought she knew, so she couldn't regain her balance. It was the most exhilarating feeling she'd ever had.

His skin was dry and rough. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed. At the height of winter, she could only imagine how uncomfortable it was for him. It didn’t bother her. She liked the different texture of his skin. But unconsciously, on one of the many days she was thinking about him, she had stuffed a tube of her favorite hand cream into her purse.

Jason replaced the picture on the mantle and for a few long seconds, he closed his eyes. When he opened them, she was looking at him and those soulful eyes were staring into him.

“Wait right here.” She brushed past him, picking through her purse until she produced the cream.

Jason hadn’t moved and a small smile of satisfaction lit her features. “Okay. Give me your hand.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“What? Don’t you trust me?”

He eyed her skeptically before he offered up his right hand.

Elizabeth squeezed a dime sized portion onto his much larger hand. Setting the container on the mantle, she took both of her hands and began to rub the cream into his hand, sliding it between his fingers, over his palm and thumb and the backside of his hand.

She looked up and laughed at the repulsed expression on his face. “Relax, it’s just hand cream. It doesn’t mean… I’m not going to suggest a spa day or anything. Although, you could use a manicure.”

Jason smiled.

“There. Now doesn’t that feel better? Other hand, please.”

Jason offered his left hand.

Elizabeth again squeezed some cream onto his hand. But something was different. Somehow the actions seemed more charged, more intimate. Her hands slid over his deliberately. “You have—you have nice hands.” She cleared her throat. “Artistically speaking… Hands are one of the hardest things to sketch. Everyone’s hands are different. I mean, obviously. But your hands… I’d like to sketch them sometime—with your permission, of course.”

Jason watched her closely. Elizabeth was one of those old souls his uncle had tried to explain to him about. She gave herself away by the expressive grey-blue eyes and the curl of her lip when she found it right to talk and talk...and talk. Though she didn't speak in riddles, there was something puzzling, endearing, about the way she rambled and self-consciously tugged her hair behind her ear. She believed in life and love and happiness, but didn't think they were in her limits to possess. He knew differently. From the day he met her, he recognized that sadness that comes from a hard life, a daily struggle, and knew if anyone deserved to be happy it was her. There was no one else he'd ever met more deserving of love or affection and there was something that drew him to her. Something that made him want to shelter her and hold her like she needed…like he needed, too.

He just needed to swallow his guilt. He needed to forget the millions of tiny sensors that sounded in his brain every time he let her in. He needed to forget of all the potential for disaster and think of what it would really feel like to be happy.

Elizabeth swallowed hard. The way Jason was looking at her… God, she felt lightheaded. “There,” she said, releasing his hand. “I-I’d leave it here for you…the cream, I mean. But I know you wouldn’t use it. I don’t think you want to smell like cherry blossoms all the time…or anything quite so girly. I don’t need you to talk to tell me that.”

Everything was slow, and though she remained motionless, the pound of her heart made her feel dizzy.

Jason had decided a long time ago that people relied on words too much. And that people used a lot of words to say very little. But he and Elizabeth? They didn't need words. He didn’t have to speak to tell her how he felt.

Tentatively, shyly, he brought his hand to her cheek, smoothing down the lines of the fine scratches that ran the length of her cheeks. His palm curved against her, lightly brushing his thumb against her ear and reflexively she leaned into his caress.

Lifting her hand from her side, she mimicked his actions and ran a smooth hand down his face.

He closed his eyes instinctively.

Her fingers worked through his hair, stopping only when her fingers met the raised scar on his head. She hesitated before tracing the shape with one long stroke and then another. Feeling his hand leave her, she opened her eyes only to meet the intense blue of his.

Skimming his hand down her shoulder, he smoothed it down her back and let it rest just above her hip. He drew her close, pressing her body tight to his. His face inched forward.

Keeping her hand at the base of his neck, she felt her body being pulled toward him, felt the heat and overwhelming burning sensation in her stomach. His cheek brushed hers and the slightly stubbly skin tickled her neck and chin. She took a deep breath, feeling him do the same.

His chest rose and fell against hers and her breasts pressed into him. She clung to his shoulder.

His lips were on her neck before he had time to think about it.

"Wait, wait," she said, breathing rapidly.

His movements stopped and he pulled away slightly, but he was still close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin, hot and strong.

She wanted this--had for a long time, if she was honest. But there were so many secrets between them.

"I have to tell you something," she managed, her voice barely able to break free. God, there was so much she wanted to tell him.

His eyes were puzzled and a sense of guilt welled up inside him, seeping out for Elizabeth to see.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she panted, trying to collect her thoughts. "It's just..."

Who was the one pulling away now? She was such a chicken-shit! She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his chest.

His hands instinctively went to her back and brought her closer to him. He smelled the soft floral scent of her shampoo and let his fingers travel up her spine to wrap around some soft curls.

They held each other. She didn’t—couldn’t—say another word. Not with these intense feelings roiling inside her.