A Christmas Bride - By Susan Mallery Page 0,70
be happy,” she said. “I don’t want them to feel bad.”
“Then you should have faith in them. They have practiced. They are ready.”
“You make it sound so logical.”
“Is it not?”
“No, it’s not. It’s horrible. I think I’m going to throw up.”
As’ad laughed and pulled her close. “Ah, Kayleen, you delight me.”
“By vomiting? Imagine how excited you’ll be when I get a fever.” She grumbled, but in truth she enjoyed the feel of his arm around her and the heat of his body next to hers. Not only for the tingle that shot through her, but because the sensation was familiar. She’d leaned against him enough to know it was him. She would be able to pick him out blindfolded—by touch or scent alone. She’d never been able to think that before.
They took seats toward the front, by the aisle. Kayleen was vaguely aware that people were looking at them, but she was too nervous for the girls to notice or feel uncomfortable. A thousand horrible scenarios ran through her mind. What if Dana forgot her lines or Nadine tripped or Pepper decided to teach some bully a lesson?
As’ad took her hand and squeezed her fingers. “You must breathe. Slowly. Relax. All will be well.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know that your panic will in no way influence the outcome and it will only make you more uncomfortable.”
“Again with the logic. It’s really annoying.”
She glanced at him and he smiled. She smiled back and felt something tug at her belly. Something that felt a lot like a connection. It startled her and made the rest of the room fade away. In that moment, there was only As’ad and she didn’t want anyone or anything else.
A few minutes later, the orchestra began and the curtains parted. The pageant went from the youngest students to the oldest, so it wasn’t long before Pepper appeared on stage with her class. They did a skit about a frog family snowed in for the holidays. Pepper was the mother frog.
Kayleen mouthed the girl’s lines along with her, only relaxing when she left the stage at the end of the skit.
“A flawless performance,” As’ad murmured. “You worry for nothing.”
“Maybe my worrying is what made it perfect.”
“You do not have that much power. Nadine is next. I believe she will dance. That will be enjoyable to watch.”
Sure enough, Nadine and several of her classmates danced to music from The Nutcracker. Kayleen willed her to hold her positions exactly long enough and exhaled when the music ended and the girls were still.
“You will wear yourself out,” As’ad told her.
“I can’t help it. I love them.”
He looked into her eyes. “Do you?”
“Of course. How could I not?”
Something flashed through his eyes—something she couldn’t read. “I was most fortunate to find you. Not that I can take total credit.” He smiled. “We must send Tahir, the desert chieftain, a gift of thanks.”
“Maybe a fruit basket.”
“I was thinking more of a camel.”
“That can be tricky,” she told him. “Don’t you hate it when all you get in a year is camels?”
“You mock me.”
“Mostly I’m mocking the camel.”
Another class took the stage, then Dana’s group appeared. Once again Kayleen held her breath, willing the preteen to get through all the lines without messing up.
Partway through the performance, As’ad took her hand in his. “You may squeeze my fingers, if that helps.”
She did and felt a little better. When Dana finally left the stage, Kayleen slumped back in exhaustion.
“I’m glad we only have to do that a few times a year,” she said. “I couldn’t stand it.”
“You will grow more used to this as the girls are in more performances.”
“I don’t want to think about it. I’m not sure my heart could take it.”
“Then brace yourself. There is one more surprise yet to come.”
She turned to him. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ll see. All will be revealed when we leave here.”
Kayleen really wanted to whine that she wanted to know now, but managed to keep quiet. She fidgeted until the last song ended, then followed As’ad out of the auditorium. Only to step into an impossible-to-imagine scene of snow.
It fell from the sky, cold and wet and delightful. The children were already outside, running and screaming. Kayleen held out her hands, then laughed as the snow landed on her palms.
“It’s real,” she said.
As’ad shrugged. “Dana mentioned missing snow, as did the other girls. I thought they would enjoy this.”
It was only then that Kayleen noticed the roar of the large snow-making machine off to the