Delia concentrated her whole being on Theo, hoping the thought of him would help her relax into sleep. It wasn't until she heard Charlie's car pull into the driveway that she was finally able to drift off.

  As soon as she reached the beach, Delia saw Theo gliding through the shallows towards her. When he reached the sand, the fire burst into flames as if by magic. (Well, Delia thought, it's my dream and I can have magic fires if I want.)

  “How are you, Delia?” Theo asked. “It's been a long time.”

  It had been a long time and Delia was a little nervous. How would Theo react to her new look? He seemed to like her fine the way she was before.

  “I came when you called to me, but you never showed up. Why did you call me if you didn't want to see me?”

  “You weren't ready to really believe in me,” he replied simply.

  “But you're not real!” Delia exclaimed. “You're a dream … aren't you?” Delia asked tentatively.

  “I'm as real as you want me to be.”

  Delia shook her head, confused by his reply. “I just want … I mean, I wanted to see you because …,” Delia trailed off, not knowing how to say what she wanted.

  Theo smiled that beautiful, slow smile of his that always warmed her heart. “You look lovely, Delia.”

  “Do I?” she breathed.

  “Maybe. I'm not sure. Why don't you come a little closer so I can see better,” he teased.

  “I … I don't think I should.”

  “Afraid, are you?”

  “No … yes, yes I am,” she admitted.

  “Are you afraid Charlie would mind if we were friends? He'll never know unless you tell him.”

  “Oh, I wouldn't tell Charlie, not ever,” she said emphatically.

  “Then there's nothing to be afraid of. Come here, Delia,” he commanded, holding his hand out. As if to encourage her, Theo moved closer.

  Delia took a deep breath. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and stepped as close as she dared. Part of her wanted to reach out her hand to him and have him draw her in the rest of the way, but she knew that would be too dangerous.

  She didn't see Theo when she opened her eyes until he moved back in front of her. She guessed he had been walking around her, looking her up and down. She felt her face redden and hoped he would think it was from the heat of the flames.

  “I was right the first time. You are lovely.”

  Delia breathed a sigh of relief. “Then you like my hair? I don't look like a middle-aged woman trying to look younger?”

  Theo threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, yes. Your hair is very nice and I can see you've lost more weight by the way that pretty, pink nightgown hangs on you.”

  “What's so funny?” Delia asked, drawing herself up indignantly.

  “Because hair, make-up, clothes don't mean as much as the confidence you've gained over these last weeks and the good heart you've always had. Those are the things that make you lovely.”

  “You're beginning to sound like those women's magazines for housewives.” Delia was getting irritated. This wasn't what she wanted. She wanted Theo to tell her she was beautiful and that he had missed her. She wanted to see desire in his eyes and maybe even a little drool.

  “And you're beginning to sound like a prom queen who thinks the perfect manicure is the ultimate goal in life.”

  “I thought you understood me, understood what I need, but I can see now that you don't,” Delia replied coldly.

  “I love you, Delia,” Theo told her, shaking his head, “but you're not ready for me.”

  Delia stood stunned, unable to say a word as she watched him walk away.

  * * *

  The holidays were rapidly approaching and Delia was down to a size eight. She spent her evenings taking in her old clothes. She wasn't ready to buy new ones, yet, not until she was sure could keep the weight off.

  Charlie seemed different these days. He didn't spend much time at home, but when he was there, he seemed always on the verge of saying something. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't confide in Delia, and she began to worry. Was it possible that Charlie was involved with another woman?

  Delia shrugged off the thought nearly as fast as it came. Not stodgy, staid old Charlie. He was a homebody, more interested in darts and football and food than anything else. He was probably just putting in extra time at the plant to pay for Christmas.

  And so she dismissed Charlie from her mind to concentrate more and more on her appearance. With Charlie coming home late, Delia thought she might sign up for some exercise classes at the Community Center. She wanted to be a size six for her anniversary party and February first would be here before she knew it.

  In the meantime, there was Theo. She needed to show him that it was her appearance that made her feel more confident, not the things that she did for her family. Those were just things she did out of habit and duty. Not one of them had made any mention of her weight-loss or the other changes she had made. And if Theo didn't appreciate the effort she'd been making either, then she'd just conjure up another dream man. She'd give him one last chance tonight to come to her and make things right. If he didn't, goodbye Theo, hello Diego.

  Delia reached for the pink nightgown and was surprised to find it buried in the back of the drawer. She was even more surprised when she pulled it out to and saw that it was worn nearly threadbare. The pink had faded almost white, too. Delia bit her lip, unable to understand what had happened. Had she been wearing it so often trying to get Theo to come back to her that it was worn out?

  Disgusted, Delia threw it into the trash. She put on an old blue flannel, embroidered at wrists and neck. She had done the embroidery herself and was pleased with her handiwork. She remembered, now, how gratifying it had been to execute the intricate design.

  She climbed into bed, pulling the quilt over her shoulders. She had designed and sewn that herself, too. It had been a long time since she'd done any sewing or knitting or much of anything else except look in the mirror. Suddenly, Delia wasn't too happy with who she was becoming. She fell asleep feeling sad and a little bit lonely.

  To Delia's chagrin, she found herself back at the beach where Theo was already waiting for her. She wasn't sure she wanted to see him when she was feeling so low.

  “What's the matter, Delia?” he asked softly.

  “I don't know,” she replied, afraid to tell him how she felt.

  “Yes, you do. You just don't want to admit it.”

  Delia looked down at the sand, not wanting to meet his eyes. Waves of shock ran through her when she felt strong fingers lift her chin. “Theo?” she whispered. It was the first time she spoke his name … or at least the name she had given him.

  Theo took her by the hand and led her to a flat, rock covered in dried seaweed. “Sit down, Sweetheart, and talk to me.”

  Delia's senses were reeling. She remembered he had told her he loved her and then left her flat. Now, he was calling her sweetheart and looked for all the world like he meant it.

  “I don't know where to start or what to say,” she whispered.

  “What are you feeling right now?” he prodded gently.

  “Lonely, foolish, unhappy.” Delia shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “Frightened,” she added in a very small voice, looking past him at the foaming waves.

  She couldn't bring herself to meet Theo's eyes. Vaguely she wondered why she never saw his whole face, but by a trick of the light and shadow she could see, or maybe just sense, his smile, the look in his eyes, his expression.

  “Frightened? What are you afraid of?”

  Delia wasn't happy that he had picked up on the one thing she really hadn't wanted to admit. He had really liked her when she was more confident. Now that she admitted this weakness, he might leave her again.

  “Delia.” he shook her hands to get her attention. “Tell me,” he whispered, lifting her chin once more with his warm fingers.

  She felt herself mesmerized by the power in those eyes. She just wished she could tell what color they were. She took a deep breath, putting her trust in this man. Friend? Lover? She didn't know at this point what he was or would be to her, but right now, it didn't matter.

  “I'm afraid that I'm turning into someone that no one cares about or even likes.”

  Theo tucked a curl behind Delia's ear and caressed her shining hair. “Has no one ever cared about you before, Delia?”

  Delia shook her head miserably, upset when Theo laughed.

  “I have a very hard time believing that.” He shook her hands again. “Try again.”

  “Well, maybe they did, but they don't anymore. I feel like all I've done all my life is for other people.” Delia shrugged her shoulders again. “Now when I've finally done something for myself, nobody cares or even notices.”

  “Oh, I think they've noticed,” he smiled. “Maybe they're frightened by the changes, too.”

  “I don't understand,” Delia replied.

  “Delia, I think you've figured out that the obvious changes have had an effect on how you're treating other people. Yes, you gained some spark, some backbone, and that's a good thing.” He grabbed her shoulders and she could feel his fingers biting into her flesh, so intense were his feelings. “But where did Delia go? What happened to the woman who saw her family and friends as people to be cherished and not just burdens to be shouldered?”

  Before she could answer, Theo faded away and Delia buried herself in the blackness of sleep.

  * * *

  Delia woke the next morning feeling better. Careful not to wake Charlie, she slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Usually, she just went inside to get ready for work, but something stopped her this time. She turned and moved to Charlie's side of the bed and looked at the mound of blankets that covered him to his ears. She didn't want to disturb him, so she just let her hand hover an inch over his head, as if she could sense the thick, softness that used to be there with the palm of her hand.

  Shaking off the foolishness, Delia hurried through her morning routine. She had things to do this morning before she left the house. When she got into her car, she was carrying two large shopping bags full of gifts intended for family and friends for Christmas.

  Business was slow now that the rush for pies, biscuits and rolls for Thanksgiving was over, but Delia made it a point to greet the few customers that came in with a friendly smile. She wasn't sure if she could pull off the task she set for herself, or what the outcome would be, but she would start the day with a smile at least.

  Delia spent the afternoon returning all her carefully selected gifts. Luckily, she'd bought everything at the same department store, so she finished quickly. As she laid each item on the counter, she realized that she hadn't chosen anything with the person in mind at all. It was as if she'd only looked at the price tag. If it was expensive, she bought it.

  Once she was finished, and her credit card had a hefty available credit balance, Delia made her way to the fabric and craft store on the second floor. She took her time browsing through the patterns, carefully selecting yarn and thread and trims. She also bought a length of deep green velvet for herself, intending to make a simple jumper to wear for Christmas with the snowman sweater Charlie had bought her last year.

  For the next month, Delia sewed, embroidered, knitted, baked, made candles, sachets, and anything else she could think of to give everyone for Christmas. All the things she made had her personal touch. Every gift she wrapped held a personal note. Despite the fact that she wasn't getting much sleep, Delia never felt so good in all her life.

  The only fly in the ointment was Charlie. They didn't see each other much, but when they went to The Pub on Saturday nights, she often caught him glancing her way. It would have been nice if he were actually noticing her, but he always seemed to be looking at her as if he didn't know her.

  What if he actually had his eye on one of the young waitresses? Delia looked at Charlie through narrowed eyes. He was looking rather … healthy … if she had to put a word to it. Was it some sweet young thing that was making her husband stand straighter?

  Christmas was in a few days, and then he'd see. He'd see how nice she looked in the green velvet. He'd see how hard she'd worked to make it a Christmas no one would ever forget.

  * * *

  Then it was Christmas Day and Delia was up early to start cooking. She'd always made the same dinner as her Italian grandmother. They'd start with antipasto, stratcciatelle soup, then on to lasagna, sausage and peppers, chicken cacciatore, and big bowls of spaghetti. Dough had been rising all night, ready to be baked into round, crusty loaves of Italian bread. She'd already fried the dough for struffoli to be drizzled with honey and candy sprinkles and the cannolis to be filled after dinner.

  Charlie came down late and grabbed a cup of coffee with a couple of almond biscotti for breakfast. It had snowed last night, and he'd be outside shoveling for a while.

  Delia was glad he wasn't there. She had plenty left to do and didn't need Charlie under her feet. Still, it was odd that he wasn't pestering her for a taste of everything. At the very least, he would have made himself a tomato sauce sandwich.

  Delia pressed her lips together and went back to her cooking. This was not the time to be worrying about Charlie. There'd be plenty of time for that after Christmas.

  The table was set, the house decorated and the food was keeping warm in the chafing dishes. She took one last look around before going upstairs to get ready. The dining room really did look beautiful. It had been a long time since she'd really fussed with table settings and candles, but she thought she hadn't lost her touch.

  Delia didn't come downstairs until she heard Charlie open the front door and call out to their daughter and her husband to get in out of the cold. The three boys and their wives arrived soon after.

  Delia figured it was safe to go down. She could get lost in the flurry of hanging up coats and Christmas greetings. She hung back for a moment to allow everyone time to see the living room. Delia always left the tree trimming to Charlie. They had boxes of ornaments accumulated over the years and you couldn't go wrong with traditional family decorations.

  The squeals of delight coming from the room were a little over-enthusiastic for the same tree they saw every year. Delia hurried into the living room to see what all the fuss was about. She gasped in surprise as the scent of fresh pine reached her. The old artificial tree was gone and in its place was a real tree, the first one they'd ever had. Delia looked around for Charlie, but he was busy by the punch bowl filling cups with eggnog.

  She wanted to thank Charlie for the surprise, but all of a sudden felt too shy to approach him. It was nice to see the shabby old ornaments given new life against the glowing green of the tree.

  Delia accepted the cup of eggnog and waited for Charlie's traditional toast, but she was in for another surprise. After a whispered conference, Charlie handed the floor over to Chas, their oldest. With his arm around his beaming wife, he wished everyone a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, and his hope that the summer would bring them a healthy baby.

  Pandemonium broke loose as everyone laughed and hugged and cried. Everyone except Delia. This was a cause for celebration, but she couldn't help feeling that once again, fate had taken away her chance to shine. All those gifts she had painstakingly made, all her care to show this family that she was worthy of their love and attention, and nothing she had done would be noticed in the excitement over the baby. Oh, she was happy about it, of course. She just wished that they hadn't announced it today of all days. Even her anniversary party would be overshadowed by this news.

  Delia felt Charlie's eyes on her. In fact, everyone was looking at her, waiting for her reaction. Delia allowed the tears to come. Let them think they were tears of joy. Only she would know how alone she felt. She said all the right things, raised her cup to toast the expectant parents, and said she couldn't wait to be a grandmother. Only Charlie looked at her as if he could read her thoughts.

  Before she knew it, dinner had been eaten and everyone had praised the food and decorations. At least they had noticed, Delia thought grumpily. Then it was time for presents and she was almost afraid that everyone would think her homemade gifts were tacky.

  All the gifts she opened were obviously expensive, especially the deep blue brocade robe from Charlie. At least the scarf she had knitted him was cashmere and the colors he loved best. Delia was surprised, almost shocked, when Charlie thanked her and kissed her on the cheek. He seemed almost shy about the affectionate gesture, but Delia was comforted by his touch.

  Finally, it was time for everyone to leave and Delia wasn't sorry to see them go. It had been an exhausting day. Thank goodness they had all stayed to help clean up because she couldn't have faced it herself.

  Charlie closed the door behind the last of them and turned to shoo Delia upstairs. He assured her that he would lock up and make sure all the candles were snuffed and the fire properly banked.

  As Delia got ready for bed, all she could think about was how much she needed Theo to come to her tonight. She had wanted to go to him so many times over the last month, but she had been so exhausted what with making all those gifts. At least everyone seemed to like them, but she needed a different kind of appreciation tonight. She needed a man to make her feel like a woman, even if it was only in her dreams.

  She grabbed the first nightgown that she touched and put it on. Somehow she knew she didn't have to do anything special to make Theo come to her. Just as she knew that he had been thinking of her all this time.

  It only took moments for her to fall asleep and only a moment longer for Theo to reach out and take her in his arms. She was shocked at the solid feel of him and she struggled against him, afraid. But he called her name in that familiar voice and she felt that she could trust him with all that she was.

  He ran his hands through her hair and kissed her tenderly over and over until she sighed his name. She felt his chuckle against her lips, but didn't feel as if he were laughing at her. Her only thought was that she'd pleased him somehow and that made her happy, too.

 

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