Blue Christmas (The Moody Blue Trilogy | Book One) (39 page)

She turned to face
Sergio, her intense exterior completely softened now. “And I don’t think for a
minute your trip to Florida was a coincidence. I think God sent me an angel in
my time of need. I really do. Thanks for being there for me, Sergio.”

He stood up, pulling
her into a bear hug. “I am so proud of you, Hannah. I knew you had it in you.”

Kylie piled into
the hug. “He’s right, Hannah. Maybe the reason you had to go through all this
was to find out who you really are. Find out just what you’re made of. I don’t
know much about the prayer stuff, but if that’s what it took, then all I can
say is . . . amen, girlfriend!”

Chapter 27

“
W
ell, that was . . .
different,”
Hannah muttered as she slid into her seat beside Kylie in the large auditorium.
Well over a hundred UNC students filed into the old lecture hall, climbing row
after row up the creaking wooden steps. Far below, in the “pit” on the first
level, the professor thumbed through his briefcase retrieving a stack of
papers.

Seated only three
rows from the top of the auditorium, Kylie handed Hannah a cup of Starbucks.
“But you did it, Hannah. You did it!” she whispered, excitement threading her
words. “From the minute you left the apartment, you were cool as a cucumber.”

“Yeah, yeah. No
big deal,” Hannah shrugged, popping open the lid on her vanilla latte.

“No big deal? Are
you kidding me? You rocked, girlfriend! They pelted you with questions. You
ignored them,” she continued, doing her best animated sportscaster impression. “They
hurled assaults like missiles. You ignored them. They scrambled after you in
their mysterious black sedans, tailing you every step of the way to campus. And
like the champ, heading into the ring to face your opponent, you—”

“Okay, okay! I get
the picture!” Hannah laughed, crossing her legs.

“You were
amazing,
”
Kylie whispered loudly.

Hannah smiled mischievously
and blew on her latte before taking a sip. “I
was
good, wasn’t I, Kylie?
Who knew I had it in me?”

“You were better
than good. You were
killer
good.”

Hannah slid down
into her seat, settling in for the class. “Thank goodness the campus security
refused to let them follow us any further. You have no idea how scared I was! I
was terrified to open my door this morning!”

“I know you were
but you did it. You
did
it, Hannah. And now it won’t be so hard the next
time. Or the time after that. Until they finally get the message that they
can’t offend you any more. I’m telling you, you knocked ’em dead. You were
incredible.
I am so more proud of you!”

“Ladies and
gentlemen, welcome to Advanced Literary Communications. My name is Dr. Stafford
and I’ll be guiding you through these next few weeks of journalistic
excellence—”

“Just think, Kylie,”
Hannah whispered out the side of her mouth, her eyes never leaving the
professor. “This is our last semester. The last time we ever have to put up
with any more of these dumb welcome speeches. The last time we have to load up
on textbooks and homework and all-night cramming for impossible exams . . .”

“I know, but it
kind of makes me sad in a way,” Kylie answered discreetly, opening her new spiral
notebook to the first page.

Hannah turned to
face her. “Are you crazy?”

“Not at all. Come
on, admit it. You’ll miss this campus. The sun coming up as you go to those
early labs. The cute frat boys—they may be snobs but they’re still hot. The
smell of freshly mown grass on the commons . . . or leaves
burning in the fall . . . homecoming . . . the
band playing the fight song at football games . . . the student
center—”

“The sticky buns
at The Bakery.”

“The pizza at Vitto’s.”

“As my assistant
hands out your syllabus for the course work, I’ll ask you to open it to page
three where we’ll go over the objectives for our time together these next few
months.”

After the
overview, the professor began his lecture, lulling most of the class to a
drowsy early morning nap.

Hannah tried to
keep her mind on the lecture, but found herself doodling in the margins of her
paper. She propped her elbow on the corner of the desk, resting her chin in her
hand. She hoped the professor would assume she was taking copious notes. Not
that he would care. This was, after all, college.

Sometime later, a
strange sound roused her from her artwork. She stole a glance at Kylie whose
jaw dropped, almost disappearing into her blue turtleneck. Slowly she turned to
face Hannah. Her lips moved. She was trying to say something.

Hannah’s brows
knitted the question.
What?

Kylie motioned her
head toward the front of the room. There was panic in her eyes. Hannah was
afraid to look.
More reporters? More cameras?

Without moving her head, she let
her eyes crawl toward the main level. Two campus security guards stood at the
door as if on patrol, their hands folded behind their backs. At the podium
stood another, his back to the class as he talked privately with the professor.
And beside him—

It can’t be . . .

Hannah froze. Kylie
groaned next to her, trying unsuccessfully to verbalize something. Hannah
groaned in return. Somehow, they understood each other.

The fourth man
shook hands with the professor. They chatted out of earshot. It was obvious
they’d met before. Then, the men in the pit of the auditorium turned around as
the professor moved to speak to his assistant. Hannah slid down in her seat, trying
to hide her face under her hand. She peeked through a slit between her fingers,
watching the scene unfold below. The assistant looked through the papers on her
desk. She pulled one from the pile and handed it to him. He ran his finger down
the sheet of paper then returned to the guard and the man standing next to him.
They conferred. Then they all looked up.

“Is Miss Brooks
present today? Hannah Brooks?”

Whispers swept
through the room. Hannah felt her face glowing. Her pulse pounded in her head.
She started to perspire.

“Hannah Brooks?”

“Hannah, do
something!” Kylie hissed.

That was all it took. The students
turned en masse to look at them, along with the men down front. Hannah watched Kylie’s
face wilt with guilt; the realization of what she’d done washing over her.

Great. Why
don’t you just turn a spotlight on me, Kylie?

Kylie offered a
weak smile and mouthed, “Sorry?”

Hannah looked back
down to the front of the room. The professor nodded agreeably to the guy in the
ball cap, and sat down on the stool beside his podium. Dr. Stafford boasted a
conspiratorial smile. He was enjoying this.

The guard stood
aside. The fourth man took off his ball cap and his sunglasses. A collective
gasp arose from the room. The whispers grew louder.

“Hannah?” he
called up to her. “Dr. Stafford—who happens to be a friend of the family, by
the way—has allowed me a few moments of his time—
your
time,” he corrected,
waving his hand across the room, “to do something I should have done a long
time ago.”

She couldn’t bear
to look up. Kylie’s elbow struck her in the ribs. She groaned but kept her face
hidden behind her hand.

This isn’t happening.

It’s just a
dream.

It’s just another
one of my stupid dreams.

Hannah could hear his
footsteps creaking as he began slowly climbing the steps, one after another.
“And I know this isn’t the normal way to handle this sort of thing, but then—well,
nothing has ever been normal between us, has it?”

A few catcalls pierced
the air. Others shouted to quiet their class members.

She couldn’t stand it. She had to
look. She lifted her head only enough to see over her fingers.

And there he was.
Jason McKenzie, his hat in his hands, his forehead scrunched up like a little
kid begging to be heard. When their eyes met, the crease in his brow deepened,
but a hint of a smile touched his lips.

“See, I owe you a
huge apology, and it just can’t wait another minute. And I need all these
witnesses here to hear what I have to say so they can vouch for me in case you
don’t understand me.”

He continued
slowly climbing the steps, his familiar smile breaking through the walls of her
heart.

“Now, I’ve allowed
the, uh . . .
circumstances
to disorient me the past few
days. I got confused about things. About the past . . . and some
of the people in my past. I think you know what I’m talking about. I was
distracted. Like I took my eyes off what was important and lost my way.”

Hannah bit the
side of her lip. She hoped it would stop the trembling. Her eyes burned. She
could hardly see now. Kylie’s sniffles only made it worse.

More steps. More
creaking.

“And then, it
suddenly dawned on me.” He was only three steps below her now. “Like somebody
took the blinders off my eyes. And I knew exactly what I wanted.”

Two steps away.

“
Who
I
wanted.”

“Ahhhh,” the class sighed
in sympathetic unison, laughter crackling across the room.

“Isn’t that
sweet?” someone sneered on the far side of the room.

Jason didn’t even
blink.

“Who does this guy
think he is?”

“You dufus!” A
girl shot back from five rows down. “It’s Jason McKenzie!” She turned back
around, her face bright with anticipation.

“What’s he got
that I don’t have?” It was the football player just across the aisle from her.

Kylie let out a
huff. “A limo, a couple of mansions, and millions of fans. Okay? So shut up!”
She looked back to Jason and plastered a smile on her face. “Go ahead.”

Jason smirked at Kylie.
The dimples beside his mouth seemed to pull his smile even wider. He nodded his
head in gratitude toward her.

She nodded back. “You’re
welcome.”

The class laughed
then slowly hushed.

He took the final
step, standing directly beside her on the aisle. “The thing is, Hannah,” he
began, slowly dropping to one knee. He reached for her hand, covering it with
both of his. Hannah cried silently, her shoulders shaking. She blinked, feeling
the tears run down her face.

Jason smiled at
her, but this time it was a serious smile. Hannah noticed the slight tremble of
his chin, a glistening in his eyes. He cleared his throat, never taking his
eyes off her.

“Hannah, I won’t
even begin to make a lot of promises to you. You know what my life is like.
Don’t you?”

She nodded, a
knowing smile trying to form.

He continued. “But
I know—
I know
that I can’t even think about another day if you aren’t a
part of it.”

Another “ahhhh”
echoed across the room.

“So what I’m
saying to you, what I’m asking you in front of all these people here with God
as my witness is this.”

He stopped.

She waited.

“I want my
Christmas present back.”

The question pushed
her brows upward.

“What?” a voice
shot from behind her. “What kind of stupid line is that?”

“Smooth. Really
smooth, Blue man,” the football player mimicked.

“Shut up!” shouted
a chorus of female voices.

Jason nodded,
tuning them out. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Hannah. You
remember, don’t you?”

Her head tilted as
she searched for his meaning. She had no idea.

Then it came to
her. She nodded, a laugh and a tiny sob escaping at the same time. “Yes,
Jason,” she whispered. “I remember.”

“
You
were
my Christmas gift. And now I want you back, Hannah. I don’t know what tomorrow
will bring, or the day after that. But I know that I want you there, with me,
all the way.” His face melted into a huge smile. “I love you, Hannah Brooks.”

“Oh, please tell
me he’s
not
gonna sing to her.”

“I will never
ever hurt you,”
a falsetto male voice sang, teasing them.

The women shouted
again. “SHUT UP!”

More voices joined
in.
“I will never make you cry . . .”

The room swelled in
chorus as the class teased them with a miserable rendition of the
Blue
hit song.

I will never
leave you all alone,

Just take my
hand,

Baby,
understand,

I want nothing
more,

Than to love
you

Forever.

Jason looked around at the
impromptu choir surrounding them, then back at Hannah. He laughed as hard as
Hannah had ever seen him laugh. When he looked back at her, he shrugged,
holding up his hands. “Couldn’t have said it better myself!” he shouted over
the singing.

Hannah shook her
head, surrendering to the surreal scene absorbing them. She looked at Kylie for
support and found her singing along as they continued to repeat the chorus. She
looked down at her professor who seemed to be enjoying a good laugh along with
the three security guards. Hannah joined the laughter, blown away by the circus
around her. It felt like she’d been transported into a melodramatic scene in some
ridiculous cheesy movie.

Then, scrambling
to her feet, she fell into Jason’s arms, laughing and crying all at the same
time. “I love you, Jason McKenzie, I love you!” He drew her into his embrace,
kissing her passionately to the roaring approval of her classmates. Their cheers
rivaled that of any Tar Heel touchdown, except this touchdown had its own theme
song.

I will never
ever hurt you,

I will never
make you cry . . .

Epilogue