CHAPTER ELEVEN
KATY
In the afternoon, Katy invited Marcus over to visit Mama Muni’s family.
“It would be a shame to come all the way here and not see how they do Christmas,” Katy said.
Marcus grimaced as though he still had indigestion.
“Is there something wrong?” Katy asked.
He hesitated. “I just…don’t believe in Christmas anymore. This is a bit overwhelming for me.”
Feeling sassy, she winked at him. “I also don’t believe in Santa, but here you are, playing him.”
“I’m not exactly giving out money left and right.”
“But you will, at the end of your contest, right?”
Katy went to find Mama Muni in the kitchen and asked if she could use any help with their nativity scene.
After she answered, Katy translated for Marcus. “She would love the help.”
Mama Muni led them to a corner of her house.
“So we need to take the pieces out of a box?” Marcus asked.
Katy shook her head. “We’re building it.”
Mama Muni handed them blocks of wood and tools. She gave them pictures of what she wanted the figurines to look like and let them loose.
Katy smiled to herself as she watched Marcus glance from the picture to the wood and back.
“It doesn’t have to be Tiffany-worthy,” she said.
“I know. It’s just been a while since I’ve been in shop. Are you sure she can’t just buy a set from Walmart?”
“Well, first of all, there is no Walmart here, and second, she likes to be creative and compete. This is like the Olympics of Christmas contests.”
Marcus smirked. “No pressure, huh?”
Katy shook her head.
Several minutes later, they were in the thick of making the nativity pieces. Katy put the finishing touches on Mary and looked up. She caught Marcus staring at her. Immediately, he lowered his gaze, busying himself with Joseph.
Katy smiled to herself, a warmth spreading in her chest.
Mama Muni’s children helped too, but they were easily distracted, until they got to two sheets of plywood, which would be the mural painting behind the nativity scene. They fought over who got to apply the first brush stroke of blue paint. The younger of the two, Filipo, got his way
“She wants a beautiful mountain scene at twilight,” Katy translated.
“Easy peasy,” Marcus said, rolling his shirtsleeves up. “Allow me.”
Katy glanced at his biceps and looked away. It was hot in the house all of a sudden.
With broad strokes, Marcus painted a midnight-blue background. Katy worked alongside him and the children, painting stars, trees, and green touches on the mountain range. One of the children painted a shooting star. Their contributions were simple…and couldn’t have been more perfect.
When it was all done, they stepped back to admire it.
Marcus glanced over at Katy. “You have paint on your nose,” he said.
She touched her nose.
He laughed. “You got more on it.” Grabbing a rag, he came over.
She held her breath as he wiped her nose gently, in rhythmic strokes.
Their eyes met, and a banked fire glowed in his.
“Thanks,” she said, her cheeks warming. The expression in his eyes made her squirm and flattered at the same time. All her life, she’d been used to being in the background. He made her feel as if she was in the spotlight.
Then, as quickly as it flared, the light in his eyes dimmed. He stepped back and cleared his throat.
“You’re welcome,” came his formal reply. He looked around at the mess. “What next?”
“After clean-up?” Katy glanced outside. “Let’s catch a posada.”
***
MARCUS
That was a close call.
After cleaning the paint off her nose, Marcus had wanted to kiss Katy. She had looked so adorable.
Heaven help him, but Katy was proving to be such a distraction. He wasn’t looking to date anyone, thank you. Especially one of his charity contestants. Their entry needed to stand on its own merit.
He shook his head. Would you listen to your stuck-up rules made on the fly?
Marcus fell back as he followed Katy down the streets of Antigua in search of this posada. Soon, Marcus discovered it was found not only by sight but by sound.
Amplified by a speaker, a man sang along with a choir of children. People carried statues of Joseph and Mary on a platform, lit up like the Walmart blue-light special. They swayed as their bearers walked them down the street, surrounded by a sea of celebrants.
Katy was up ahead, glancing back at him. She waited until he could get caught up, standing directly behind her. They couldn’t move, not with the throng crowding them. When someone jostled, he put out an arm instinctively to protect her. He ended up standing right behind her, her back warm against his chest.
In the dark, the sensation was tantalizing.
Unfortunately, it was time to move on.
“They’re going to three houses,” Katy explained.
The first house had a Nativity scene with a garland of colorful beads and a yellow church as a backdrop. Mary and Joseph were dolls, dressed in native Guatemalan costume. The house owners laid a buffet for the procession-goers: tamales, steamed corn pouches called chuchitos, fruit punch, white milky horchata, and crunchy cylinder pastries called barquillos.
They moved on to two more houses, each procession growing larger as the night progressed.
“They are singing from a prepared script,” Katy said. It was all in Spanish, so Marcus couldn’t follow too close, but he caught a word here and there that sounded familiar.
At the last house, everyone took their time dispersing. The streets were still clogged when Katy and Marcus left.
Boom. Someone shot a piddly little rocket into the sky. More firework explosions followed.
“What do you think of Guatemala-style Christmas?” Katy asked Marcus before they parted at her homestay.
Marcus shrugged, determined to not sound too eager. “It’s interesting. ”
“Volcanoes more your style?” Katy said.
“Sure.”
“Good.” Her eyes danced. “We’re going to roast hotdogs over a volcano.”