Blame It On The Mistletoe - A Novel of Bright's Pond by Joyce Magnin

the clear blue sky. "Oh, it's such a nice day, I might see if I can talk Zeb into taking a walk in the woods."
    "Ohhh, sounds romantic."
    "Maybe. That's up to Zeb."
    Ivy stood up. "What's wrong, Griselda? Zeb giving you a hard time again?"
    "Not really. Well, no more than usual. It's me this time. Have you ever been in love Ivy?"
    Ivy looked at me for a long minute. "Me? Well, I never told no one, but yeah, I was in love, long time ago."
    "How do you know?"
    Ivy let air escape her nose. Mickey Mantle sidled up next to her. "As much as I hate saying this, the answer is . . . you just do. It's a feeling, but it's more than a feeling. It's like an allergic reaction."
    "Do you lose your appetite and feel all scatterbrained?"
    "Yep. Is that what Zeb does for you?"
    "Used to. Not so much anymore. Zeb and I have been going together for so long the feelings are more like the feeling of slipping on a pair of old, comfy sneakers. You know how they fit you just right."
    "That's love," Ivy said.
    "But am I IN LOVE?"
    "Then who is making you feel all squishy and lose your appetite?"
    I didn't say anything. I just looked into her eyes until she saw the truth.
    "Cliff Cardwell. Why Griselda Sparrow, you have fallen head over heels in love with that aviator fella."
    "I'm not so sure." I patted Mickey Mantle's head.
    "Sounds like he got your engines started."
    "That's just it. Maybe I'm love with the aviator, the flying, not the person."
    "You better figure this one out. And with Christmas coming? Whee doggies, Griselda, Christmas is way too romantic and wonderful to spend it with the wrong fella."
    "I know."
    I gave Mickey Mantle one final pat. "I'll see you later."
    The air felt crisp and turned steadily chillier the closer I got to the Full Moon. It was after the lunch rush, so Zeb should have a little time. I had no clue what I was going to say to him. I just wanted to see him and hoped with all my heart that nothing would interrupt us this time.
    I was right; Zeb was sitting at a booth eating a sandwich. It wasn't too often I saw Zeb eating any of his food.
    "Hey, Zeb," I said.
    "Grizzy, join me. Hungry?"
    "No, not really. I just wanted to stop by and say hi. I just came from Ruth's. She had exploding cranberry sauce."
    Zeb laughed. "Exploding cranberry sauce. I'm not even going to ask."
    "Ah, she's just so excited about Thanksgiving. She's trying all these crazy recipes."
    "Oh, boy. It should be interesting."
    "You're coming, right?"
    Zeb took a bite of his sandwich. Swallowed and looked me square in the eyes. "That depends. Is Cliff coming?"
    "I don't know. And . . . and why should it matter?"
    "It just does."
    Dot passed by. "Coffee, Griselda?"
    "Maybe just water."
    "Suit yourself."
    "Zeb," I said. "I want to be honest with you. I think I'm feeling confused or something. I like Cliff, I'm not going to lie about that, but not in the way you think, at least I don't think so. He just makes me feel different."
    "Different?"
    "It might just be the flying. I really love to fly that airplane."
    Zeb finished chewing his sandwich and then gulped down a glass of milk. "Are you in love with him. Just tell me. I can't stand being on the outs like this."
    My eyes closed for a breath. Then I looked at him and then I looked away. Dot placed my water in front of me.
    "I'm not sure," I said. "Maybe. Maybe not."
    Zeb tossed his napkin into his plate and stood. "Then I guess I won't be coming to Thanksgiving."
    My heart started to race. "I'm sorry, Zeb. I just want to be sure."
    "I doubt you'll be sure by Thursday."
     

     
    I went to church that Sunday but my heart wasn't in it. Pastor Speedwell was talking forgiveness in such a way that I think he made everyone in the room feel guilty. Even me. Mostly I felt guilty about Zeb and Cliff. I sat in the pew and prayed through pretty much the entire service. I asked the Good Lord to help me figure out my feelings. I prayed that God would make my choice so clear that I couldn't possibly be wrong.
    Ruth, who