Homespun Christmas by Aimée Thurlo Page A

he pulled her to him. She didn’t resist. It was too tempting, and even if it was only for a moment, she needed to feel wanted for who she was, flaws and all.
    His lips brushed hers then, slowly. As his kiss deepened, a sweet fire coursed all through her. It was pure heaven, and she lost herself for one brief moment.
    Drawing away at last to take a breath and force herself to think clearly, she stepped back. “We shouldn’t...”
    “No, probably not, but we both needed that,” he said. “You and I are connected. We know what it’s like to have our dreams taken away.”
    A connection. That’s what she’d felt, but what had given her so much comfort also made her vulnerable. “Maybe that’s true, but it can’t happen again.”
    “The problem is that we both want it to.”
    His words were open and honest. They stated a fact but made no demands. “We’re both too fragile, Joshua. You’re trying to find a new direction, and I’m fighting to hold on to my life in Independence. We’re on different paths right now. I need to stay here and keep what I have, what I need. You want to leave and find something new, bigger, better.”
    “Is that so bad? Living in the past has never worked for me. It never will,” he argued.
    “You see? How can we have a relationship when we can’t even agree on what we want beyond today? We can’t afford to get close to each other, not now, maybe not ever.”
    “I guess you’re right,” he said, looking away.
    They walked around the yard looking for Bear, but there was no sign of him and his tracks disappeared where he’d crossed the road.
    Myka checked her watch. “The delivery van will be here soon. I’ve got to finish getting the boxes ready to mail.”
    They went back inside, and Josh helped her by sealing boxes with packing tape and sticking on the prepared labels.
    After the packages were picked up, she glanced at the grandfather clock and drew in a sharp breath. “Where did this morning go? I’ve got a class here in another hour. I didn’t realize it was already past one.”
    “You never told me you were teaching classes,” he said.
    “I’m not. The Women’s Guild meets at two the first Friday of every month, and we try to teach each other a new skill. I’ve been learning about colcha embroidery, wool-on-wool work, but I’ve got a long way to go before I turn out anything decent,” she said. “Not that it matters. That’s not the goal of our group.”
    “What is?”
    “Strengthening our sense of community. There are only a half dozen members left—the others have moved away—so these meetings are more important than ever. It’s our way of lifting each other’s spirits.” She walked him to the door.
    “I’ll catch up with you later,” he said, and headed out.
    * * *
    A N HOUR LATER , as Daniel got something to drink from the fridge, Joshua turned on the light and walked down the hall of his father’s house. He stubbed the toe of his boot against a bookcase that was too large for such a narrow space. It was filled with regional history books, most of them University of New Mexico Press titles.
    Josh preferred open spaces—that was why much of his architectural resource materials were on DVDs and other digital storage devices. His dad, on the other hand, had been old school, down to his choice of furnishings. All the rooms were cramped and overflowing with large wooden furniture pieces, most of them handmade.
    He stepped inside the spare bedroom. This had become his father’s library, a testament to his passion for history.
    Daniel followed him, handing Josh a Coke, and looking around. “I only glanced in here before, but now I see what you mean,” he said, and looked at the open maps on the futon. “You can’t just give this away or throw it out. You’ll have to go through everything. Collectors might have use for this stuff, or maybe some university professors.”
    “Yeah,” Joshua said. “No way around it. Some of those maps of