Every Christmas Needs a Virgin

"After she left, dad told me to forget about her. I tried, but I never could. I still dream about her sometimes."

"That's natural," I remarked. "No woman is as important as your mom, especially when you're little."

"I wish I remembered more about her." He stood and wandered to the kitchen counter, fiddling with something.

"I'm sorry we never met her," Patty called to him.

"Me too," and he returned with a platter of cinnamon-sugar cookies, the recipe of Patty's great-grandmother.

The consumption and praise of the dessert took up the next couple of minutes, and Declan regained his equilibrium under his aunt's watchful eye.

"So how is it that you're single?" Patty asked as I bit into my fourth cookie. Declan's ears seemed to flap as he waited for my reply, and I barely avoided choking as I hastily chewed and swallowed my bite.

"Haven't met the right man," I replied with a shrug. "I prefer being alone to being with the wrong person."

Sean nodded approvingly. "I wish more people felt like that. Couples get married all the time just so they won't be alone, then they get divorced and wind up alone anyway."

"Are you a minister?" I asked.

Everyone in the room laughed for nearly a minute at that. "No, I'm a builder," Sean finally answered, chortling and wiping his eyes, "but I see a lot of couples buy houses hoping that will solve their relationship problems. It doesn't."

"Why would people think a house will solve a relationship problem?" Declan asked.

"Because it gives them the illusion of stability. Once you own a home, your life is all settled -- or so people think."

"Why do they think that? Anything can happen," and we all heard the tinge of grief in his voice. I wondered whether it was for his mother or his father. Possibly both, I reflected.

Patty regarded him with sympathy. "Most people don't like to face the hard things. And a lot of times, they don't have to, not for a long time. You got a couple of very tough lessons very young, so your perspective is very different from most people's."

She turned to me. "Would you agree that's true, Angela?"

"That most people prefer not to face things? Absolutely. We see it all the time in family court. Even juries in child abuse cases sometimes acquit because they just don't want to believe a parent could harm a child."

"That's crazy," Declan said, his young face serious. "People should base their opinions on facts, not feelings."

"True enough," I replied, stifling an urge to laugh at his naiveté. "Good luck getting them to do that, though. Humans are emotional creatures. We base way more of our judgments and decisions on emotions than we want to admit. It's how we're wired."

"Do you do that?" he asked me.

"Sure. I once bought a car because I liked the saleswoman. I chose my home because the staircase has a beautiful carved banister that reminds me of my grandmother's house when I was little. I've dated men because they look a certain way. The list goes on."

Declan opened his mouth to speak, but Blake beat him to the punch. "What a great dinner! Patty, thank you so much."

"You're always welcome at our table," she told him. "Both of you." Her smile broadened to include me, and I returned it. "Now, let's head to the other room. Angela, do you like cards or games better?"

"Either one. I love games, period!"

"How about Cranium?" Declan suggested. "Or Cards Against Humanity?"

"I was thinking Trivial Pursuit," Sean said.

We headed into the other room, and I stopped, transfixed. "This," I told Patty," is amazing!"

It was. The entire room seemed to sparkle with holiday decorations. Icicle ornaments lurking in the branches of an enormous Christmas tree picked up the colored lights and threw them to the room. Glittering boxes covered the floor around the tree, and simple metallic ornaments hung from the ceiling. I'd never seen anything like it.

"When it comes to Christmas, Patty lets her inner gay man loose," Blake said, enjoying my reaction.

"It's the only holiday I decorate for," Patty said. "So I totally overdo it."

"Excuse me?" Sean cut in. "Who spent two hours on a ladder, hanging all those ornaments from the ceiling?"

Throwing an arm around his waist, Patty laughed. "I had the artistic vision. You just executed it."

"A spectacular team effort." I picked out a corner spot on the overstuffed sectional and set my glass down on the table in front of it. Declan plopped down next to me.

"Is it OK if I sit next to you again? I know we sat together at dinner, but I'm enjoying talking to you."

I flicked a glance at Patty, who nodded.

"Fine with me. You're good company."

I patted his thigh in what I hoped was an appropriately aunt-like way and he beamed at me.

"I wish..." he began, and stopped.

"You wish what?"

"I wish I had waited a year to start college."

"Why's that?"

"I didn't know very much about how to make friends when I started, and I got off on the wrong foot. Now everyone thinks I'm weird and I don't know how to fix that."

"You don't seem weird to me."

He looked down at his hands. "You're easy to talk to. Plus, Tia Patty has been working hard all year to teach me how to get along with people. I feel like I could do better now, but it's too late."

"That'll be easy enough to fix when you transfer to a four-year college," Sean broke in. "Fresh start, and new opportunities to get it right. You'll do great."

"That doesn't help me now," Declan said mournfully. "I'm a friendless wonder."

"I'm your friend," Blake replied.

"Me too," I added. "Even if we're too old for you."

He looked at me. "I don't think you're too old for me," he said softly, then whirled back to the table as Patty set up the board for the game.

Two hours and a lot of laughs later, I stood up and stretched. "I've had a marvelous time, but I need to get home. I'm working out at the pool in the morning and I need some sleep."

"You're a swimmer?" Patty asked.

I nodded. "That, and water walking and running. It's too cold to exercise outside right now."

"I wish I could swim," Dec said. "Dad never let me go to the pool."

"Why don't you join me? I can give you a lesson."

His eyes shone. "Would you really? I'd love that!" He stood up and I had to resist an impulse to embrace him.

"The only thing is, you'll need a suit. I'm guessing you don't have one?"

Disappointed, he shook his head.

"I have a pair of trunks that are too tight for me anymore, but they'd fit you," Sean said. "They're yours if you want them."

"Perfect. Thanks, Uncle Sean!"

Sean looked from his nephew's shining face to me and smiled, clearly considering Operation Friend a major success. Blake also glanced at the two of us, but kept his thoughts to himself.

"I'll meet you there tomorrow at 9," I said, digging my phone out of my purse, unlocking it and handing it to him. "Go ahead and put in your cell number and I'll text you the address."

"I can't wait! Thank you."

He eagerly punched in his number and returned the phone to me as we all walked towards the front door. Patty gave me a big hug, then handed me my coat.

"So glad you came tonight," she said as Declan helped me into my things. "I meant what I said earlier -- you're welcome here anytime."

Sean lumbered up and hugged me as well. "Great to meet you, Angie! Come back soon."

Uncertain of himself, Declan hung back. I opened my arms. "Your turn."

Stepping forward, he put his arms around me and pressed me to him. "Wonderful meeting you," he whispered.

To my surprise, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Likewise. Now, get some sleep. You're learning to swim tomorrow!"

Outside the house, Blake walked me to my car.

"I was wrong," he announced.

"About what?"

"That you're too old for him to want to get you naked. I'd say he has a big, fat crush on you."

"You perv. That's crazy. Nine years is a big gap at this point in his life."

He pursed his lips, thinking. "For most kids, yes. But... I saw the way he was looking at you. Be careful, Angela. He's vulnerable. Let him down easy."

"I promise not to break his heart," I said lightly.

Blake grasped my shoulder and turned me to look at him. "I mean it. He's a nice kid. He deserves to find a nice girl -- someday. Don't mess that up for him."

"I like him too," I replied, dropping all traces of humor. "He's a nice kid, and after the life he's had, he needs a good friend. That's all I intend to be."

I met his gaze, and after a long moment, he nodded. "OK. I'm glad you came out tonight. The change in him was wonderful to see. Aside from wanting you, he obviously liked you, too. And I thought he did great with the manners."

"Definitely. If you hadn't told me about his past, I never would have known. He was poised and charming -- quite a catch for a lucky girl one of these days."

We hugged briefly, and I drove home, thinking about Declan and telling myself to keep my distance.

**

The next morning, I spent way too long picking out a swimsuit, especially for a woman committed to keeping her relationship with her student platonic. Nevertheless, I do have my pride and I like to look good. As a dedicated swimmer, I have at least four suits at any given time, mostly for the different types of exercise I do, but also one to impress anyone interesting who might show up. I dithered about it for a good five minutes, then grabbed my newest one-piece suit, put it on and checked my look in the mirror.

A lot of women seem to figure life's over at 30, but I was a late bloomer, and I work hard to keep my body the way I like it. Genetics has given me a nice pair of c-cups and my workouts keep my waist reasonably trim. My curvy hips and substantial butt give me fits sometimes, but I have come to think of it this way: if too much abundance is my main problem, then I have a good life.

Striking a pose, I noted my mop of chestnut-brown curls looked no messier than usual and didn't appear to need washing. Although I usually get a pimple or two just before my period, due in two days, my fair skin looked clear and my green eyes nice and bright. The reds, pinks and blues in the suit's paisley print suited me perfectly. All in all, I thought I'd do. I put on a sweater and yoga pants over my suit, grabbed my coat and gym bag, and headed for the natatorium.

Even though I arrived five minutes early, Declan already awaited me just inside the door.

"Angela!"

He rose and wrapped his arms around me in an unexpected hug, which I returned with enthusiasm. He was just as attractive in the bright sunshine as he had been last night, and my heart skipped a beat when he gave me a piercing sort of glance, as if trying to see my soul.

I picked up my bag and turned towards the door. "Let's get started. Are you ready for your lesson?"

He reached over me to open the door. "Can't wait, teacher! I'm excited about this. I've always wanted to learn how to swim."

We stopped at the desk to sign him in as a guest, then turned down the hall. "The men's locker room is down there." I pointed at the door where a large man in a too-small suit had just emerged. "Meet you by the pool in five."

I shucked off my clothes, tied back my hair and stepped into my flip-flops in record time, but my hands trembled as I tried to close the lock. Telling myself not to be stupid, I somehow got it locked, then marched out to the pool. Only a lesson, I told myself, opening the glass door to the competition pool. Only a lesson. He's just a kid. He's not for you. Then I caught sight of him, and all of my internal dialogue stopped, just like my feet and my heart.

He stood there waiting, and beamed as he spotted me. "Angela!" he cried, waving one tautly muscled arm to get my attention. "Over here!"

My feet stuttered back into use, and I moved toward him. The morning sun lit him perfectly, capturing his lean strength. I looked down to avoid staring at his face, and instead found myself entranced by his long, straight, lightly furred legs. My eyes traveled up to Sean's faded green and blue trunks, noting how well they fit Declan. Suddenly realizing I was staring at his crotch, I wrenched my gaze upwards, past his narrow waistline, hairless chest and sculpted shoulders. I homed in on his face, willing myself not to come across as some kind of sex-crazed cougar.

He grinned. "You look great! Which lane are we in? This one?" He pointed to the first lane at the shallow end.

"No, that's reserved for water walkers. The second one's open, and it's shallow enough that I can stand while I put you through your paces. Let's go there."

Eager to get started, he jumped into the shallow lane and ducked under the rope into the second lane, emerging wet and adorable, like an oversized otter. My legs wobbled and I jumped in behind him, hoping the shock of the cool water would restore my good sense.

"Let's get started. Why don't you show me anything you know about swimming?"

Obligingly, he pushed off from the side, and did what looked like a parody of a basic freestyle, keeping his face out of the pool, kicking and slapping the water like it had stolen his girlfriend and expending enough energy in 10 short meters to render him breathless. Assessing him as he moved, I realized I had my work cut out for me: he was horrible.

He splashed towards me, but managed to stop just before impact. "How was I?"

I bit my lip. "We have some work to do."

"I bet. This is the second time in my life I've ever been in a pool. I tried swimming in the lake near our house a few times, but dad caught me and gave me the whipping of my life. I never did it again."

"Why in the world would your father do that? I thought survivalists were all about having fundamental skills to, uh, survive."

"Because of my mom. When she was young, she was a really good swimmer. Like, nationally ranked. In fact, the first time my dad ever saw her was at a public appearance she did after an event. You know, local girl makes good."

I waved a hand to encourage him. "And?"

"When she left, she went back to a guy she'd known, another swimmer. After that, dad never wanted to hear that word again. So, no swimming for me. Too much like mom."

"Well, I'm not your dad. I totally support you learning to swim, and I promise not to spank you if you make a few mistakes."

He blushed. "Uh, OK. What do we do first?"

"First, we set some ground rules. One, if I'm going to teach you, I'm going to have to touch you now and then to demonstrate how your stroke should feel and correct your form. Are you OK with that?"

His blush deepened, his eyes appearing very blue next to his red skin. "I'm fine with that. I'm not used to being touched, but I bet I could get used to it in a hurry."

"You may have to, depending on how bad you are," I teased. "Second, it's easy to get overwhelmed in a strange environment. If you feel yourself getting anxious or something, tap me on the shoulder and we'll stop." I demonstrated on him, giving his firm shoulder a light slap. "Got it?" He nodded.

"Third, I've never taught a novice to swim. If I don't explain things so that you understand, ask me. It's obvious you're not stupid, and I won't think less of you if you ask. Actually, I'll respect you more."

He nodded again, and just as I had last night, I got a sense of wheels and cogs turning at a very high speed inside that dark, sleek head.

"OK. Let's start with getting used to putting your face in the water as you exhale."

Within three minutes, he was blowing bubbles like a pro and we moved on to face-down floating.

Completely immersed in my teaching role by now, I lightly held his fingers as I explained. "Five seconds, then lift your head and stand. I'll count it out loud for you. It'll feel strange the first time, so don't panic. Grab my hands if you need to. I'm right here."

Without speaking, he leaned forward and put his face in the water. His legs drifted up as I counted, and he stood a second after the count ended.

Water poured off his face. "How was that?"

"Excellent. What a good student you are!"

"I have a good teacher."

Somehow, we had wound up standing a little too close, and I was once again aware of him as a man rather than as a student. I stepped back. "Now let's try it on your back."

He looked a little panicked. "Can we do the facedown version a few more times? I want to make sure I really get it down."

I shrugged. "Sure."

We went through it several more times, and he lasted a little longer each time. I felt a surge of hope. Declan seemed to have a knack for learning new things.

"Now can we try it on your back?"

"Yep. I've got it down now, I think."

"All righty. This time, just lean back and let your feet drift up again. Easy-peasy."

Eyes closed, he did as I directed, and I slid a hand under his shoulder to keep him on the surface. His lips curved up and he looked utterly content as he floated. There's a theory that we humans all love the water because it reminds us of our months in the womb. I can't speak to that, but I can say that I never feel so alive and beautiful as I do when I get in the pool and feel gravity slip away as the water buoys me.

"This is just perfect," he said, as if reading my thoughts. "I had no idea." His blue eyes opened slowly and he turned his head to look up at me. "No wonder you love it here."

"Yes."

"I love it too. I could spend all day like this, floating and talking to you."

I snorted. "You don't get to talk much when you're swimming."

"I know. I bet I'm going to love that too, though. But this, what's happening right now, this is special." His eyes closed once more, and his arms slowly drifted away from his body as if he wanted to hug the universe and everything in it.

Watching Declan, I couldn't imagine how his mother had left him. I had known him less than a day, and already he had found his way into my heart. How could the woman who had carried him for nine months and seen that little face enchanted by the world have chosen to abandon him?

I sighed and removed my hand, breaking the spell. "All right, mister. Time for your next skill -- kicking."

We headed to the wall, and within a few minutes, I had him doing a nice rhythmic flutter kick.

"You are, without a doubt, the easiest person in the world to teach," I told him. "You pick up things like that," and I snapped my fingers.

"I owe it all to my teacher."

I gave him a shove. "Was it your aunt or your uncle who taught you to flirt so well?"

Droplets of water on his skin sparkled and flashed as he chuckled.

"Innate talent, of course. You don't think this level of mastery can be taught, do you?"

I laughed at his mock arrogance and splashed him. "Not at all -- or your amazing humility."

He splashed me back and suddenly we were both ten years old and having a water fight. Shrieking as he tried to dunk me, I wrapped one arm around his neck and tried to pull him down into the drink. He pivoted and fought back and one hand slipped across my breasts before grabbing my waist. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his own waist and did my best to knock him off balance. His strong arms pulled my legs apart as he sought to escape, and a shock coursed through me as the arch of my foot slid along what felt like the erection of the year. Our eyes locked, and my mouth hung wide open with astonishment. Our horseplay stopped abruptly.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"It's all right. You couldn't help it."

"No, but -- you're not mad?"

I shook my head. "Why would I be mad? An erection is one of the nicest compliments a man can give a woman, as long as he doesn't try to force it on her."

He inhaled sharply. "I would never force you!"

I patted his arm and leaned in to give him a half-hug. "I know. You're not that sort."