Christmas Eva (9 page)

Eva winced. “I think that was my mirror.”

April mimicked her gaze. “That man does love adlibbing. The mirror will be replaced, don't worry.”

Eva nodded. “Thank you.” She finished signing the papers and went to find Felicity for the coffee she'd promised her.

Harry appeared at the end of the performance, guilt written all over his face. “I'm so sorry about your mirror. I'll buy you another one.”

“Yeah, you will. How's your face feeling?”

“It doesn't itch.”

“Good. Let's get this stuff off and head out to the tree lighting. Fi said she'd drive us.” Eva shot him a smile. She was exhausted, but loved every minute of being back at work. And was looking forward to the tree lighting and carols.

 

 

 

 

 

7

 

Harry turned on the Christmas lights and gazed at Eva. Her face was radiant in the multicolored lights of the tree. The applause took him by surprise as all he'd done was flick a switch. He waved, posed for photos with Miss Battle, who'd won some kind of pageant to be there with him. The next few minutes he signed autographs, and chatted with fans, before finally getting to Eva in time for the carol singing. He sat on a bench next to her chair and shared her carol sheet. Her pure soprano blended perfectly with his baritone.

The more time he spent with her, the hungrier he grew for her and the more he wanted to share his life and his Savior with her. Yes, she went to church, but did she have the same strong faith he did, or was that like the rest of her outlook, marred by the chair? He prayed it was the latter, that her faith had just been knocked and battered, rather than wiped out.

He'd had a few glimpses of her sense of humor, her smile, and what he assumed was her ‘normal persona.' He desperately wanted to see more of that Eva and less of the sad, short-tempered, withdrawn woman.

He sipped the mulled wine and ate the hot mince pie. In between mouthfuls, he grinned. “Did you know that eating mince pies is still illegal on Christmas Day?”

“Seriously?” Eva raised an eyebrow.

He reached out with a gloved finger and wiped a crumb from her top lip. “Yup. That and a handful of other stupid laws are yet to be repealed. Like it's still legal to shoot a Scotsman with a bow and arrow in York on a Sunday.”

She shook her head. “That's ridiculous. But not as ridiculous as no mince pies on Christmas Day.”

“Yeah. Speaking of Christmas, have you done your list for Father Christmas yet?”

“I stopped believing in him when I was nine and caught Dad sneaking into my room with the presents.”

“Humor me.” Harry sipped his drink, the steam rising from the cup. It had gotten decidedly chilly since they'd come out. “If you did write a letter, what would you ask for?”

“Socks. Something I always need, but am never given.”

He laughed. “Something I always get given plenty of and never need. What else?”

“Book token, a red jumper that comes down to my knees and doubles as a tunic over leggings, one of those box sets of crayons with all one hundred and sixty-four colors in, and a yardstick of Jaffa cakes. As kids we always used to add a boyfriend to the list at the end, or our current favorite actor.”

“Really?” He nudged her. “So I'm the last thing on your list then.” He grinned as her face went an attractive shade of red. “But if you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

She hesitated, looking down at her polystyrene cup. “To walk again,” she whispered. “But it's pointless even wishing because it won't happen.”

“Let me make you that appointment with Darrell. At least then you'd know for sure.” He pushed her hair back from her face. “And maybe I can give you something from your list early.”

“That's cheating. We should probably head back to the theatre.”

He checked his watch. “Not yet. We have time to eat first. Eva, would you go out with me?”

“We are out.”

“No, I mean out. Out.” He paused. He'd never been any good at this, for all the romantic leads he'd played in the past.

Eva gripped his hand. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes…yes, I am.”

“I'd like that.” Her eyes twinkled. “And that's two things on my list then. A boyfriend and my favorite actor.”

“Two for the price of one.” Harry chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Then let's go and eat before going to work. Our first proper date.”

 

~*~

 

Eva glanced over her shoulder as Harry pushed her into the Chinese restaurant. “Harry, we can't.”

“Yes, we can. You agreed to dinner and this is dinner. You're fine.”

She shook her head, the familiar panic starting in the pit of her stomach and rising rapidly though her.

“Eva, breathe. I'm right here, remember; so you're not alone.” Harry put a hand on her shoulder. “Hi, can we have a table for two, please?”

“Of course, if you come this way.”

Harry squeezed her shoulder then moved his hand, pushing the chair again.

“Harry, everyone's watching,” she said.

“No, they are not.”

“Maybe you just don't notice it anymore, being in the limelight all the time.”

He leaned over her shoulder, his lips brushing her ear, as he tucked her chair into the table. “Oh, I notice it. I chose to ignore it.” He sat opposite her. “It's part of who I am, but sometimes I wish it wasn't. I'd like to be able to walk down the street without photographers taking pictures of me buying coffee or queuing for the gents.”

Eva grinned, loving the way he put her at her ease all the time. “Men don't have to queue for the gents. That's something only ladies do.” She put a hand over her mouth. “Not that we queue for the gents…”

“I know what you mean.” He winked over the menu and looked up at the waiter. “I'll have the kung-po chicken and orange juice, please.”

Eva tilted her head. “Chicken chow mein, no bean sprouts, and apple juice, please.”

Harry reached over the table and took her hand. The candlelight lit his eyes even more than his smile did. “See, told you things would be all right.”

“I can't believe this is happening. Me, sitting here with you. It's every fan girl's dream. I'm probably the envy of every girl in the country right now.”

“The world,” he corrected. “My fan base is huge, at least according to my agent. I don't go online to find out.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “The social media pages are mine, website is run by someone who knows HTML, which I don't, but fan sites? Nope.”

“Scared of what you'll find there?”

“Yeah, a little. I've seen edited pictures of actors in various stages of undress one too many times.” The food came. Harry glanced up and leaned back in his chair. “Thank you.”

As the waiter left, Harry gazed at Eva. “Shall I say grace?” He took her hand before she had chance to answer and prayed.

Eva shifted in her chair, awkward, her cheeks burning.

Harry raised an eyebrow as he picked up his fork. “What?”

“We're in public,” she said quietly. She pushed her fork through her noodles. “And you're praying.”

“And?”

“Praying is for church on Sunday's and in private and…”

Harry silenced her with a look. “Eva, my faith and relationship with Jesus is a twenty-four-seven faith. The way I see it, if you love someone, you want the whole world to know about it. If you dedicate your life to one person, then you announce that love with a wedding ring, which you wear proudly, in public, not just at home or in church on your wedding day. Right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Well, Jesus is a huge part of my life, and I want the world to know it. And that means not disowning Him in public. After all, Jesus died a very public death to announce His love for me.”

Eva's cheeks burned, and she looked down. She'd lost that aspect of her life and until now hadn't really missed it. But the way Harry spoke made it sound like he was talking about a friend, not just a God.

“And while we're on the subject, you need to stop blaming God for the accident.”

She jerked her head and stared at him. “We've had this conversation.”

“And we're having it again.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And if I don't want it again?”

“Too bad.” He held her gaze. “It's not God's fault. He loves you.” He ate a little and she could almost see the cogs turning in his mind. “You have what the shrinks call survivors guilt. You survived the accident when Sue died and think your punishment is not to walk. You seriously need to stop living in the past and blaming yourself, the driver, God, and me for you being in that chair.”

“Blame
you
?” She put her fork down and raised an eyebrow. “How is it your fault?”

“I blamed myself for a bit,” he said, honestly. “After all, you and Sue only came to London to see the play because I was in it.”

“It's not your fault or…” She sucked in a deep breath, realizing it wasn't her fault Sue died either. And she knew deep down, God wasn't spiteful and wouldn't have put her in the chair on purpose. “I am so sorry.”

“Forgiven. You need to eat before it gets cold.”

She folded her arms across her middle and scowled. She couldn't believe the audacity of the man. First, he asked her out on a date, and then used said date to have a go at her. But he was right. She sighed.

“And you sulk. Way too much. Now, eat.” He didn't speak until she'd eaten five mouthfuls, his intent gaze never leaving her face. “Eva, your name means life. Did you know that?”

She shook her head, putting her fork down again.

“But you're not living. You're existing. OK, you're in a wheelchair, but you are better off than some people in your situation. You can talk, move your arms, and eat without help. You can do most things by yourself. You can even work.”

She pushed her hand through her hair. “I can't walk.”

Harry sighed in exasperation. “Has anyone out and told you that?”

“A broken back means that my legs won't work.” But even as she spoke, she wondered, because she
could
move them, but wasn't saying as much.

“Then I am making you that appointment to see Darrell. He'll give you the truth either way.” He sucked in a deep breath. “There's a verse in John chapter six that talks about life and the flesh.
The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you—they are full of the Spirit and life
. And another verse in Hosea chapter four about being stubborn.
The Israelites are stubborn, like a stubborn heifer. How then can the Lord pasture them like lambs in a meadow?
Both remind me of you.”

She didn't say anything, just looked at him and then down.

He grabbed her hand across the table, leaned forwards and kissed it, taking the sting out of his words. “Now eat up and all of it, before the food gets cold. I didn't bring you here to waste money. There are far more effective ways of doing that than on a decent meal and good company.”

Eva picked up her fork. Something resonated within her. He knew all her shortcomings, yet he was still here with her and tossing in the odd compliment. And he'd kissed her.

“You're worse than my mother,” she said half teasing.

Harry grinned. “I think all mothers are the same. You should hear mine.” He put on a mock female accent. “I don't care if you are a famous actor, Harold; you are not getting down from the table until you have eaten all your greens.”

She giggled. “She sounds like my mother. We should get the two of them together. They'd have a field day.”

He grinned. “They probably would.”

“Stubborn heifer, huh? Is that your roundabout way of calling me a cow?” She picked up her glass, sipping her juice.

He laughed. “I believe you used the term cow first.”

“I did no such…” She broke off. “Oh, right, when I did your makeup the term bossy cow was mentioned.”

He nodded as he turned his attention to the food on his plate.

Eva finished her meal and looked at her watch. “It's gone seven. You're going to be late.”

“I know. But my makeup girl is second to none and pretty speedy.”

“Really? Do I know her?”

Harry signaled for the bill. “No, and you don't want to. She has no self-esteem, a foul temper, she's not very polite at times—”

At that, Eva threw her serviette at him. “You better watch it, mister. She might send you on stage looking stupid—with one pink eye and one green one.”

“No, she won't, because I trust her.”

“Glad to hear it.” She slid into her jacket and pulled her gloves on.

He handed over enough cash for the meals and a tip and stood. “Let's get this show on the road.” He did up his coat.

“By the way, you still owe me a new mirror.”

“Yes, I do, and I am really sorry. April tore me off a strip during the interval. Said I can keep the line on the condition we use a cardboard prop from now on and sound effects.”

“It was funny though.”

He tilted his head. “Funny? How is me being yelled at funny?”

“No, the scene itself. It came over the speakers.”

Harry pushed her outside the restaurant and then stopped. He moved to the front of the chair and hunkered down. “There is something I've wanted to do all day.”

“We're going to be late, and you're making a scene.”

“Two minutes and I'm not on until the third scene anyway.” He looked at her.

“OK. What do you want?”

“This.” He leaned forwards, slid a hand around her neck, and kissed her.