"What am I going to do about Matt?" Gwenivere Jones asked her mirror. "He's the nicest person I've even known." Gwen brushed her long, auburn hair for the fiftieth stroke, on her way to one hundred. "He's thoughtful, he's kind, and he's not bad looking, either." Gwen sighed and shook the brush at her reflection.
"Great Grandma Gwenny insists he's my beau. She's even ordered her wedding dress cleaned and pressed for me to wear. But we're not even dating." The white velvet gown had been altered for Grams, Mary Gwenivere, then for Felicia Gwenivere, Gwen's mother.
"Stroke ninety-nine. I quit." Gwen stuck out her tongue at the mirror. "Granny Gwenny. I'm not getting married this Christmas. Not to Matt, not to anybody!"
Gwen loved her Granny Gwenny. Everyone loved the matriarch, the reason every first daughter in the family had been named Gwenivere since the year nineteen hundred. Her premonitions were legendary. She was sharp as a tack and likely to be around to see the century turn, but she was wrong this time.
Gwen slid into bed, ready for a good night's sleep. She and Matt had only twelve days to accomplish their twelve traditional Christmas missions. This Christmas would mark their twenty-fifth together as best friends. Gwen settled down into her nest of comforters and pillows. Ninety-nine strokes. Hah!
Sleep captured Gwen in its gentle arms. She was three years old and the day was warm. A child she'd never seen walked up to her sandbox and stood, staring at her.
"You Gwen?" His face puckered up in a frown.
Gwen nodded her head slowly. "Uh huh. Who are you?"
The boy looked bigger than she was and real skinny. His glasses made him look like an owl. He carried a pail and shovel. His light hair was short.
"Matthew Henry Simmons," he said. He wasn't smiling.
"This is my sandbox. Wanna play?"
"Sure," Gwen remembered his red pail and shovel. She remembered the gentleness of five-year old Matt. He had been her playmate ever since. That Christmas he had told her about the twelve days of Christmas song he'd learned in kindergarten. He'd also taught her to count to twelve.
Matt's image faded. "You forgot something, Gwen."
Gwen awoke as though she had actually heard the gentle accusation. So what would happen if she failed to do the one hundredth stroke?
Some questions a woman shouldn't ask. At four o'clock Gwen dragged out of her warm bed and grabbed the brush. One hundred.
At breakfast Felicia Gwenivere passed around the tray of Christmas bread. "Granny Gwenny, would you care for more coffee?"
"No, thank you, dear. I never have more than one cup." Gwen had heard that answer every time her mother or anyone offered seconds at coffee to the "Queen Mother." Even at breakfast she looked regal in her high-necked blouse and cameos.
"Mama," Felicia asked Gram Mary.
"Just a little, to freshen this." She held her cup toward Felicia as Gwen watched the drama unfold as usual. "Thank you."
She checked her watch as she did every morning. "Gotta finish this cup and head over to the church. Josiah wants one last solo practice before the Messiah performance Sunday." Gram had played the church organ for as long as Gwen could remember.
"Felicia," Granny Gwenny asked. "Could you take me shopping this morning? I believe our Gwen has special plans."
Gwen glanced at the lady who had ruined her sleep last night. "How did you know?" she asked.
"Your Matt's here to start your twelve missions," she answered. The front doorbell pealed. "See?"
Gwen glanced from smiling Granny to the kitchen door-frame. Matt strode through it. His hair was still almost cloud white. His athletic build was impressive and his eyes brilliant blue and squinted. Gram Mary carried his glasses rubbing the foggy lenses with a cloth. She handed them to the smiling giant of a man who hugged her. Gram who took a last sip of coffee and left.
"I'll meet you and mother for lunch at Riches," she said, as she kissed Felicia's cheek. "I can help you this afternoon if Felicia has things she needs to do." She hugged Granny. "Have fun, you two," she whispered in Gwen's ear. Gwen saw her grandmother wink at Matt before breezing from the kitchen.
"Good morning, Matthew," Granny Gwenny said when he stopped at her chair to lean over and kiss her on the cheek. They smiled at each other as though they shared a secret.
Matt dwarfed Gwen's mother when he planted a kiss on her cheek. "Coffee?" At Matt's nod Felicia filled his cup. "Care for a hunk of Granny's Christmas bread?"
Gwen had buttered a hunk for Matt. He had never refused in the twenty years she had known him. He didn't refuse now.
"Morning, Gwen," he finally said.
"Morning," She handed Matt the bread. Their hands touched as they had hundreds of times. This time something was different. Matt's sky blues stared at her through his glasses. His gaze held hers. Her heart seemed to stop. Her lungs refused to work.
Dropping her gaze lower didn't help. His generous mouth formed a smile bright enough to blind her. Gwen had to think to swallow.
A loud chuckle broke the spell caused by lack of sleep or the power of suggestion from one meddlesome old lady. "I'll get my boots and join you for our errands in a jiffy, Matt."
Gwen escaped upstairs to her room for her boots. Her reaction to Matt had disturbed her. It was surely the result of Granny's predictions. Maybe she should've saved herself the sleepless night by simply brushing her hair the whole hundred strokes, as Granny always insisted.
By the time Gwen returned downstairs everyone was donning coats. Matt helped Granny Gwenny with hers and wound her scarf on her white head and around her neck. Felicia wore her coat and gloves. Within seconds Gwen and Matt were alone.
Matt held her jacket as he had many times. Gwen trembled inside as she never had with Matt or any other man. His hands lingered at her neck as he settled the garment on her shoulders. When he placed his strong hands on her shoulders she turned to face him, as she had many times. Again her heart raced peculiarly when he zipped it under her chin. He was her best friend.
When he released her to get his own jacket, she gathered her supplies. Today they had to complete their first mission.
Matt led the way to the wooded area near the house that belonged to Granny Gwenny. She wasn't strong enough to care for the old house, which was too far from any neighbors to suit her family or her doctor. After eighty she'd become Gwen's live-in baby sitter and the self proclaimed best cook in the large house Gwen's father had built. She'd chosen that groom as she has all the girls' husbands for the past forty years. And now she'd chosen Matt. She'd also left the house and land to Gwen.
Gwen helped Matt chop down twelve fur trees from the forest of trees started by Great granddad at Granny Gwenny's request. It had been replenished each year for the past fifty years. Great granddad had taught Matt how to choose the trees to harvest. They dragged the trees to Matt's muscle truck and loaded them. Their first harvest had included much smaller trees.
Each tree was delivered to a place selected earlier. One went to the county hospital, three to small churches with low budgets, one to the local orphanage. The woman's shelter and the homeless shelter were next in line. The other five went to poorer families with children. By suppertime Gwen was ready to collapse.
Gwen stood in the wide hall of her home. Matt had been invited to supper but he declined since was expected home. Standing on the front porch Gwen huddled against his broad body to escape the wind. His truck had been warm and evening had brought out the cold the sun had held at bay all day.
"See you tomorrow," Gwen pushed away from the warmth.
"Gwen," Matt's voice sounded odd. She looked up to see what bothered him. He looked overhead. She saw the gigantic bunch of mistletoe tied to the porch support overhead. It was arranged in a manner impossible to avoid.
Her friend looked into her eyes. His long lashed eyes were hard to see. His head blocked the light. His breath was warm on her face. Chocolate mint. Her gaze moved to Matt's beautiful mouth. He was going to kiss her as he had many times before.
His lips grazed one corner of her mouth, then the other. Her own lips parted slightly. He had never kissed her like this before. She had never kissed him back like this before. When the kiss ended Matt had to guide her to the door and push her inside. She wasn't sure if she wanted to strangle the person who had placed the mistletoe there or hug him.
Gwen remembered little about the evening meal. She had noticed the women in her family staring at her on occasion but she was too bewildered to think about it. She remembered little about bed preparations. She did remember brushing her hair, as was her ritual. She was too tired for the required one hundred strokes, but each time she thought she would stop she remembered getting out bed to stroke that last time.
Crawling into her bed Gwen enjoyed the warmth of the electric blanket her mother had set on low earlier. Matt could have made the blanket unnecessary. For seconds Gwen imagined cuddling up to his big body. They'd kept each other warm on camp outs years ago. The warmth Gwen imagined all night in her dreams was a different matter all together.
Breakfast the next four mornings was the same as the first of twelve, but different. Everyone seemed to be staring at Gwen and smirking. Even her father, who was going to work late, seemed in on a secret. She tried to avoid touching Matt or looking into his eyes, or at his mouth, or at his broad shoulders or superb chest.
Mission six was to help at the homeless shelter for the day. Muscles strained the day before groaned at first. Matt and Gwen washed and scrubbed pots and pans and served food. They laundered bedding and blankets. They scrubbed floors and watched small children so their parents could rest.
When everyone had been fed Matt insisted Gwen sit down and rest for a few minutes. Neither had eaten. He brought out two sandwiches Gram had brought by for them earlier and set them in front of Gwen. She watched Matt open two soft drinks. After a long swallow of his drink he moved beside her. She was so tired she couldn't move.
"Gwen, sweetheart, you need to eat." He held a sandwich to her lips. "Come on, baby take a nice, big bite. Come on." His usually deep voice had a sing song quality used for children. He moved it around making silly sounds. "Here it comes." She smiled at his antics, then opened her mouth and took a bite. He patiently held the can for her to drink when she had swallowed the first bite. She took the sandwich from him and took another bite. "Now you eat."
By the time she'd finished her sandwich she was revived. When he dug in the bag and brought out a candy bar she grabbed for it. He held it overhead and unwrapped it.
"Stay still and I'll share," he promised. Gwen stilled and waited. He'd better share. He did. Matt held a large piece for her to bite. His broad hands held hers still, so she couldn't hold it. Once she bit he swooped in and bit the same piece. His lips grazed hers. He didn't exactly kiss her. What he did was more erotic.
All night Gwen tossed and turned. She'd expected Matt to kiss her but her father had opened the door just as Matt was leaning down toward her. All night she lived that anticipated kiss.
Morning eleven wasn't much better. As she buttered Matt's Christmas bread she wondered if she could avoid the intimacy of touching hands. He took the lead and took her hand to his mouth. One bite. His lips grazed her fingers. She gulped. Watching him chew mesmerized her. She knew how his mouth felt against hers.
The buzzing in her ears drowned out all sound around them. They might as well have been alone. Each bite he took pulled her closer to him. He took the last bite from her frozen fingers and put it into her mouth.
A chair scraped. The buzz stopped. Her voice seemed loud to her own ears. "Time to head out to the women's shelter." Matt held her chair for her. He helped her into her coat. He handed her up into his truck. He held her enthralled until they arrived at the converted old church.
The tree they had delivered earlier now held home made decorations. It was so beautiful and so sad. These women and their children had nowhere else to go to be safe from battering husbands and fathers.
Gwen and Matt toted stacks of brightly wrapped boxes they had collected as donations at the church. At least there would be gifts for the people who stayed here until Christmas.
Granny's gingerbread and molasses cookies were a hit. Gram's hand-knitted gloves would warm these children and personalized books Mama had made on her computer would thrill them.
Gwen was thinking about how blessed she was to have her wonderful family. She noticed a new child huddled in a corner. The child shivered as if from fear. Matt stood nearby. His voice was gentle as he knelt, making himself closer to the child's height.
"Hi," he said to the child. His voice was so soft Gwen had to strain to hear him. "I'm Matt and this is my friend Gwen. Do you have a name?" The child's silence spoke her fear. She shook her head. Matt looked bewildered, then smiled. "Well, we'll just have to give you a name. Shall we call you Princess Drucilla?"
She frowned at Matt to say that wasn't her name. A battered woman inched closer to Matt as if to protect her baby. Matt sat on the floor. He looked to the other children standing in a group, watching the scene. One by one each child walked over to Matt and hugged him. Each looked at the frighten girl and told her that Mr. Matt was a good guy. " He's our friend." "He won't hurt us."
"We love Mr. Matt." "He's with our Princess Gwenivere." "She's new here, she'll get used to you, Mr. Matt!" "Her name's Becky."
Matt said solemnly, "Well, if I had a little girl I would treat her like a princess. I'd never hurt her."
Becky had moved a step from the corner. "What if you had a little boy?" she whispered.
"He'd be my best buddy," Matt answered. "next to my other best buddy." He looked at Gwen.
His blue eyes were so misty her throat tightened. Gwen nodded her head. "He's my best friend, too," she said.
Slowly the frightened child stepped closer. "Do you want a little girl?"
"More than just about anything in the world." His voice was gravelly and hoarse. He held out his hand, palm up. In it was a small white object. "Would you like to share my Christmas Angel?"
A tear rolled down Gwen's cheek as Becky took a step closer to Matt, close enough to touch his fingertips. "Would you like to hold her?"
Leaning forward the small hand took the angel from Matt's hand. She took one step backwards but didn't retreat back into her corner. The wounded animal look was gone. Her eyes shown as she rubbed a dirty finger over the piece of wood. She looked up at Gwen. "She looks like you. You must be his Christmas Angel." She looked back at Matt. "Is she?"
Matt nodded and looked at Gwen. "I hope so, dear God, I hope so." His love shown in his eyes as he looked back at Gwen.
Gwen nodded her head at the beautiful man. "I'll be your Christmas Angel. You're my Christmas Angel, too." Someone sniffed.
Becky looked at her mother who had lost some of her haggard look. When her mother nodded Becky stepped forward and hugged Matt. "Thank you, Mr. Matt." She kissed his cheek.
"Thank you, Princess Becky." Matt stood slowly, with Gwen's help. He took her in his strong arms. "So, when are you going to give us a little girl or boy to spoil?" he asked. "I want lots of little Christmas Angels."
"Don't you think we ought to get married first?" Gwen smiled up at her Matt. "We might better tell the family."
"Thought you'd never ask. They already know. The winter white velvet wedding gown has been cleaned and pressed. Granny Gwenny said it should be a perfect fit. She asked preacher if we could be married at the Christmas Eve service. He said yes." Matt looked up at a sprig of mistletoe above. He lifted Gwen's chin, then kissed her. He kissed one side of her mouth, then the other. He parted his lips and kissed her fully, deeply.
The kiss went on and on, even after the clapping and childish giggles started.
When she finally came up for air she asked, "What about a license, a wedding party, a reception?"
"We have to finish signing for the license and get blood tests tomorrow. It's all arranged."
"Pretty sure of yourself, weren't you?""I've planned this since the sandbox and Granny Gwenny said she started earlier."
##The church was filled to capacity. Vans had brought people from the homeless shelter and from the women's shelter. Christmas decorations were all around. The tree shown with twinkling lights like so many stars when lights in the sanctuary were dimmed. The choir sang as Gwen's family walked down the aisle. The bride wore long gown of winter white velvet.