The House Guest by Paul Curtis (inspirational books for women .TXT) 📖

but Julie was holding back for some reason.
“Good night” Julie came in and closed the door.
“Nice evening?” I asked
“Yes very nice”
“Good meal? Good company?”
“Yes to both questions”
“But?”
“I really like him but I don’t know if I want to go through it all again”
“Nothing ventured nothing gained” I said
“I’ve done my share of venturing in the past and I haven’t yet gained”
“I’ll probably just screw it up again Harry so it’s probably best if I stop it before it starts”
She waved away any protest from me and went up to bed.
“Night Harry”
“Night Julie”
“That won’t do at all” I said myself.

The next day before Julie was up and about I sent a text to Paul from Julies mobile.
It was quite exciting I’d never done one before even while I was alive.
I was quite surprised that it was more difficult than it looked and really rather complicated to get the letter you wanted and then it kept changing the word.
I came very close a number of times to throwing the damn thing across the room.
Eventually I managed to write:
“Thank you Paul I had a wonderful time last night I really would love to do it again. Julie x PS Just ignore me if I play hard to get lol”
Within a couple of minutes I got a reply.
“I had a wonderful time too I will call you soon. Paul”
Then I quickly deleted my text to him and his reply and then put the phone back in Julie’s handbag with minutes to spare before I heard Julie coming down the stairs.

I felt very pleased with myself and my subterfuge and I thought it was just a matter of time before the two of them got together again, however when a week had passed and nothing had happened I was not so confident.
There had been a couple of texts which I didn’t get to see before she deleted them and there had been a phone call but it didn’t last long.
So it was to be another evening of chess and conversation.
I set up the board as Julie entered the room from the kitchen carrying a glass and bottle she opened a bottle of wine the first she’d had for several weeks.
I frowned at her and nodded in the direction of the wine.
“It’s ok I haven’t taken any pain killers for three days so this is by way of celebration”
“Excellent” I said “I wish I could join you”
“Bad luck” she said taking a long sip
“I would prefer Christmas ale”
“Oh don’t start on Christmas again”
“Why do you hate Christmas so much?” I asked
“How long do you have?” She replied without humour.
“I have as long as it takes I’m dead remember” I said trying to inject a little humour as I sat down opposite her.
“Where should I start” she looked around the room as if seeking inspiration.
“Christmas has been a disappointment all my life”
“I grew up with the constant disappointment of not getting the presents that I asked for” she said with a wry smile “Which I blamed Santa for”
I started to speak but Julie interrupted me.
“I know that’s very childish and pathetic” she even laughed a little.
“When did you stop believing?”
“I believed right up until I was seven, that was the year I discovered Santa Claus was actually my drunken father” She took a long drink
“So with a drunk for a father and a violent bully for a mother my childhood was just full of Christmas joy”
“Not brilliant then” I added
“Then three Christmas’s ago at one of our merry Christmas gatherings my own sister stole my husband and my mother took my sisters side” she paused thin lipped remembering the pain of it fresh as if for the first time she gathered herself then continued.
“My dear mother said if I’d kept him satisfied in the bedroom he wouldn’t have strayed”
“Not that he had to stray too far with my slutty sister sniffing round him like a bitch on heat”
“What did you say to your mother?” I asked
“I said that if she’d kept my father satisfied in the bedroom he wouldn’t have turned to drink”
“Oooh”
“I haven’t spoken to her or my sister since”
She took another drink.
“Then last year two weeks before Christmas a drunk driver ran a red light and broadsided me shattering my hip and putting me in hospital for months”
She reached out and grabbed her cane.
“And now I still have my trusty stick as a constant reminder of what Christmas means to me”
I wished I could have given her a fatherly hug but I couldn’t so we fell silent after that and concentrated on the chess for a while.

I was out and about in the garden early next morning it was less than a week before Christmas and I was beginning to despair that as far as we had come together it was not going to be far enough to save us both.
But it was more than that, when I started it was about helping Julie in order to cross over and be reunited with Rose.
I had come to care about Julie more than I thought possible and furthermore I had come to realise just how much I had wasted the final months of my own life.
I had brought her back from the brink and I resolved that I would succeed in opening her heart not for my own sake but for hers.
I transported myself to the sitting room only to find it empty but there was the sound of cooking coming from the kitchen and perhaps more alarming the sound of singing.
When I appeared in the kitchen I found Julie frying bacon and singing along to an Eva Cassidy song playing on the radio.
“Are you ok?” I asked with false concern.
“Yes why?”
“I thought you must have had a relapse and your hip was hurting”
“Very funny Harry” she said with a smile.
“Would you like some bacon? Oh I forgot you can’t eat can you I’ll have to eat it all myself then”
“You can be a very cruel young woman” I said indignantly and tucked the newspaper under my arm and withdrew to the sitting room.
After she had devoured her bacon, which not only could I not eat but perhaps worse
I was also denied its smell, she came into the sitting room and sat opposite me and we started a tug of war over the newspaper.
“You’re in a very playful mood today” I suggested after I had lost custody of the paper.
“I feel happy today, I don’t know why I just do”
As she was in a good mood I decided to chance my arm and enquire as to the state of play between her and Paul.
“Have you heard from Paul?” I said directly.
“Don’t start”
“What? It was an innocent enough question”
“Hmm, well as it happens he did phone me”
“Really?” I said keenly
“He invited me out for dinner on Christmas eve”
“That’s great”
“I declined his invitation”
“Why?”
“Look Harry I’m sure he really is a nice guy and I do like him”
“But?”
“But, I am finally getting my life back on course, and that’s due in no small part to you, and I don’t need any complications”
“That really is a shame” I said sincerely.
“I just don’t think I’m ready” She added
With that she handed me the paper and returned to the kitchen I left it ten minutes or so and then joined her just as Bruce Springfield’s gravelled tones emanated from the radio and I dueted with him in a fine rendition of “Santa Claus is coming to town”.
When we had finished more or less together I took a bow or two.
“Ha ha I do love a good Christmas song”
“Oh God protect me from the happy Christmas ghost” Julie was laughing.
“What is it with you and Christmas anyway?” she asked rhetorically.
Then she stood and looked at me, my portly build, white beard and the hateful red sweater, shaking her head despairingly.
“In fact come to think of it you even look like Santa in a rather jaded retired to the old folks home kind of way” Then she chuckled her rich velvet chuckle.
“Oh and why is that, just because I’m a jolly fat man with a white beard?” I said striking an indignant pose.
“No you have a fair point you would only qualify on two out of three” then her chuckle morphed into a full belly laugh and then I was laughing with her.
Our merriment was interrupted by a knock at the door and Julie was still wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes as she opened the door.
It was a smiling Paul Warwick who had knocked and his expression instantly changed to one of concern when he saw Julie’s tears.
“Is everything alright?” he asked with genuine concern.
Realizing what she was doing Julie quickly dispelled his concern with a tale about something hilarious on the radio.
Suitably reassured Paul’s smile returned to his face and briefly gathered himself before revealing the meaning for his visit.
“I know you said you didn’t do Christmas” He began.
“But as I said everyone has a little Christmas in their heart”
Julie was about to cut him off in full flow but he put his hand up to stop her before she could start.
“So with that in mind” he said ducking down to retrieve something from the floor.
”I thought of this”
He was holding in his hand a small live Christmas tree in a pot, complete with tinsel and Baubles standing about two feet tall it was even topped by a fairy.
“A tiny Christmas tree for someone with only a tiny bit of Christmas in her heart”
He said as he presented the tree to Julie.
“That’s so sweet” She said “Thank you”
“You can plant it in the garden after Christmas so it will keep growing and hopefully your love of Christmas will grow with it”
There were tears in her eyes again as she looked at the tiny tree and then Paul excused himself as he had some estate business that he needed to attend to which I later found out was delivering hampers to the homes of his workers.
Julie stood looking at the little tree with a silly grin on her face as Paul said goodbye and was heading up the path.
“I told you he was a nice man” I said.
“Yes” she said looking at me with tears welling up in her eyes.
“Oh God I can’t let him go I have to talk to him”
“Well run after him then” I suggested
“I can’t run” She said.
“Go and slow him down somehow”
Julie set off walking and I transported my self to the gate just as Pauls hand reached for the latch.
As he tried to open the gate I held it shut and no matter how much he shook it the gate didn’t move.
Julie was only a few yards away now.
“Paul!” She called.
Paul turned around to see where Julie was calling from.
“Hi, you appear to have a problem with your gate” He said just as I let go of the gate and the gate swung open
“That’s odd” he said.
“I’m glad I caught you” She said wincing a little at the effort of pursuing him.
“About dinner on Christmas Eve is it too late to change my mind?”

On Christmas eve I sat in the solitude of the cottage for what I hoped