Page 44 of A Very Merry Matchup
When I wake up in the morning, Hamish is gnawing on one of the stuffed teddy bears I bought for the girls. How did he find that? Looks like Pinky Collar left a puddle next to the tree. Make that two puddles. And I’m pretty sure my entire left arm has lost all circulation.
But I don’t care.
Because right now I’m still on the couch. With Ivy. Who’s got half of her body draped over mine. Who needs use of their left arm anyway?
I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of her softness resting against me.
We fell asleep afterBabes in Toyland. I’m not going to lie. That was the most ridiculous Christmas movie I’ve ever seen. A talking goose. Dancing gypsies. Singing trees. Little toy soldiers. Hours later, I’m still not even sure what I saw.
“It’s an underrated classic,” Ivy kept insisting last night.
When I told her I needed to cleanse my palate from this underrated classic with anactualChristmas classic, she remained on the couch and allowed me to put in a different movie.The Bells of St. Mary’s.“I used to watch this one with my grandpa on occasion.”
And byon occasion, I meant once when I was a kid and fell promptly asleep. Pretty much what I was hoping would happen again last night.
And it did. Bing Crosby and Ingrid Bergman lulled both of us to sleep in no time. God bless Bing and Ingrid.
But God better not bless Hamish this morning. He’s really doing a number on that bear, which is more white stuffing than brown fur at this point. And I can tell Pinky Collar’s up to no good the way she’s sniffing the floor like she’s about to leave another puddle. Or worse.
I should get up. And I will. After one more minute snuggling Ivy.
The Christmas tree is still lit from last night. Morning light is sneaking through the living room windows. When Ivy takes in a sudden deep breath and her body grows rigid, Iknow she’s awake and putting things together. Which means I’m about out of snuggles. “Merry Christmas,” I murmur against the soft skin of her forehead.
Her body relaxes the slightest fraction. “Merry Christmas, Beau,” she whispers back.
We don’t have time to say more than that before footsteps start creaking down the stairs. Ivy sucks in a quick breath and scampers away from me just as Mom rounds the landing toward the living room and gives out a startled, “Oh! Merry Christmas!”
“We fell asleep watching a movie,” Ivy says like we’re two teenagers who just got caught making out.I wish.“Hamish,” Ivy gasps the next second. “No. Drop it. Oh, Hamish, that wasn’t for you.”
As Ivy tries to retrieve what’s left of the teddy bear corpse from Hamish’s jaws, I carry little Miss Pinky Collar to the back door to let her outside before she leaves any more tidings of joy on the living room floor.
“Oh my goodness, would you believe it’s snowing again?” Mom’s looking out the window when I step back in the living room with paper towels to clean up Pinky’s previous puddles. “I didn’t think we were supposed to get any more.”
I join Mom at the window. Snow’s coming down pretty steady. “I’ll get out and clear off the walkway here in a minute.”
“I can help, too,” Ivy says, digging the last of the white stuffing out of Hamish’s mouth.
“Thanks, honey. Appreciate it. I’ll get going on the egg casserole.”
I could clear the walkways in no time on my own, but I’m not about to turn down a single second with Ivy. Not when she’s leaving tomorrow.
Does she really have to leave tomorrow?
Ivy and I throw on our boots and winter coats over our pajamas. We’re not even outside for two minutes before neighbors are popping outside to wave and yell, “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas,” we call back, our return greeting not quite as merry and bright as theirs, which makes me wonder if Ivy’s having second thoughts about leaving tomorrow, too.
“Hey, Ivy, can I ask you something?” I lean against the handle of my shovel. “What if I gave up baseball?”
Her shovel fumbles and she lunges to catch the handle. “Are we playing the pretend game again?”
“No, I’m serious. I’ve been giving it some thought, and what if I gave up baseball and we came up with a new plan? One that starts today. Right now.”
“Beau.” Her breath puffs a small cloud in the air. Her laughter is shaky. “You love baseball. And besides, I don’twant to start anything right now. I’m... I’ve got to stick to the plan. I’m not looking for anything until I turn thirty.”
“Why? What’s so magical about thirty?”
She blinks away a snowflake that lands on her eyelashes. “Remember last night at dinner when someone mentioned an old Jimmy Stewart movie?”
