Stockings and Sugarplums (Hearts of Snow Lake)

by Ashton Cade

But with Liam, I have to know where he stands. I can’t just pretend he’s one of the good ones and go about my life blissfully unaware.

  He shrugs. “It’s a calling,” he says.

  “That’s a cop-out,” I grumble, realizing too late that I’ve said it out loud.

  He snorts. “It’s true though. I went through some rough times in my teens, and I realized the need for this kind of guiding hand in a lot of kids’ lives. Of course, the longer I’ve served, the more I realize we all need that in our lives. Support when things are hard, someone to turn to for advice, for counsel when you’re conflicted. I’m honored to be able to provide that service to the community.”

  Well, shit. He had to go and be noble on top of everything else.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  Chapter 2

  Liam

  “Split the leftovers?” Phineas asks, coming back to the table with two small pizza boxes. All I can do is smile and nod.

  “Sure.”

  It’s all I’ve been able to do all night with him. My face is starting to hurt from all the smiling, but I can’t seem to stop. I like being with him. There’s a depth to Phineas that intrigues me, and a sweetness that has me already smitten, if I’m honest.

  Dinner with him isn’t something I expected to happen today, but it was a pleasant surprise. Spending time with him always is.

  “When’s the next rehearsal?” he asks, splitting the remnants of the pizza evenly between the two boxes. We’ll both have a couple of slices to take home. Mom’s probably already eaten, but I can have it for lunch tomorrow.

  “Wednesday before Bible Study,” I say. It’s a few days away, and I’ve got to make sure I have all the parts accounted for and my i’s dotted and t’s crossed.

  “Want me to come work on painting before then, or should I just show up like today?”

  “Wednesday’s fine. I don’t think there’s too much to do with the sets, is there?”

  He shrugs. “Not for the bare minimum, but I assume you want these to look good, right?”

  I shrug right back. “Everyone’s going to assume the kids did it all anyway, I wouldn’t worry about putting too much effort into it.”

  “What’s the right amount of effort then?” he asks, smirking at me as we both work our way into our coats.

  “Whatever you want, I guess,” I answer, partially admitting defeat.

  He grins back. “So if I want to put in too much effort…”

  “I don’t know why you would, but knock yourself out,” I laugh, shaking my head. He’s not even a member of the congregation. I can’t imagine why Phineas would care much about the quality of our Nativity scene. It’s sweet though. I appreciate his help.

  “I’ll uh… see you Wednesday then?” Phineas asks as we step outside into the frigid night.

  “Take care,” I say, nodding before I pull my coat in a little tighter.

  The walk back to the church is much less pleasant without Phineas at my side. He did a remarkable job of distracting me from the bitter cold, but without him, there’s nothing to keep my mind off of it.

  Luckily, Snow Lake’s a small town, and the walk to First United Church of Christ is a short one. The parsonage is separate from the church but on the same plot of land, with a space of open grass and a little jungle gym dividing them. The porch light is on for me and the door’s unlocked, warmth and the smell of cinnamon greeting me the moment I walk in.

  “Someone’s home late,” Mom says, not wasting a minute before she descends on me with a curious look.

  “Went for pizza,” I say, holding up the box. “Have you eaten?”

  “Course I have,” she says. “Who’d you go with?” Leave it to my mom to start fishing for information right away, assuming I’m up to something.

  I shrug. “A volunteer that’s helping with the Nativity.”

  She nods, accepting the explanation too readily.

  “What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her. There’s something off about her right now, something sparkling in her eyes I can’t identify.

  “What, what?” she asks, playing innocent.

  I roll my eyes. “Something happened…” I mutter, watching her carefully.

  She can’t hide it; her mouth starts to curve and soon she’s smiling.

  “I was at the senior center today and met a wonderful man named Cooper. He asked me out to dinner tomorrow night,” she says, beaming.

  I can’t help smiling back. “That’s great, Mom, I’m happy for you.” It’s been almost three years since Dad died. It’s time for her to move on, especially now that she’s retired. That’s the only reason she’s living with me right now; I convinced her to give Snow Lake a try, to stay with me a few months to see if she liked the town before finding a place of her own.

  Seems like she might be warming up to the idea of settling down here. I’d love to keep her close, to know I have her nearby if I ever need her.

  “His wife died a year ago,” she says, smile not going anywhere.

  “You don’t have to look so pleased about that,” I say, arching a brow.

  Her smile slips a fraction. “Oh, it’s terrible, I know, but you know what they say honey, one person’s loss is another’s gain.”

  “I don’t think that’s what… Never mind. I’m excited for you. Do I need to threaten him to treat you right?”

  She snorts, giggling at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a respectable member of the community. He owns the feed store—or he did before he retired. I guess now he has a nephew running it for him or something like that. Not the most riveting subject,” she says, waving dismissively.

  “So tell me about your date.”

  There it is. I didn’t think Mom would let it go so easily.

  “It wasn’t a date,” I insist. “Just dinner.”

  “Oh, perfect,” she says, clapping her hands together gleefully.

  I’m both confused and worried. Mom loves playing matchmaker, so I don’t know why she’d be glad it wasn’t a date, unless…

  “No,” I say firmly.

  Her face falls, slowly pushing into a pout.

  “No what?” she asks, still playing that innocent game too well. Unfortunately for my mother, I know how she operates. I know she’s far from innocent.

  “Whoever you’re trying to set me up with, no.”

  “But you don’t even know who it is!” she insists. “My friend Annie has a son. She said he works in a charity, an animal shelter! Isn’t that sweet?”

  “Real sweet,” I agree,” but I’m not interested.”

  Mom’s pout grows more insistent, but I’m pretty immune to it by this point.

  “If you change your mind about the pizza, help yourself,” I say, dropping it off in the fridge before I give her a quick hug and retreat to my room.

  I’m sure the guy Mom wants to hook me up with is fine. I’m sure he is nice and sweet and all those other things.

  But he’s also not Phineas.

  What is it about the guy that has me completely wrapped around his finger?

  I’m attracted to him, that much is plain as day, but it’s more than that. It’s the way he looks at me, the way he jumps to help me whenever he’s got the chance. That’s not something I’ve ever really had before.

  Despite my mother trying to set me up at every turn since I came out at fourteen and she came to terms with it all, I don’t have a lot of experience. I haven’t dated a lot, mostly because of my own awkwardness about the whole thing. Looking for a boyfriend in seminary seemed like a hopeless endeavor, and once I became a pastor, that seemed to make me undateable to a lot of the gay community.

  I’ve never wanted to hide who I am just to get someone interested, so I eventually just stopped trying. I hoped that the right guy would be able to see past my profession and realize that I’m no different than anyone else, except that I come with a huge family in the congregation. But they’re loving and welcoming, accepting to the very end.

  Hoping doesn’t mean I
really thought there was a chance though. I’m still not sure there is. I like Phineas, but that doesn’t mean a lot. I don’t know if he’s gay—picking up on that sort of thing has never been my strong suit, though I know his brother is, and they’re identical twins—but even if he is, there’s nothing to say my feelings are reciprocated. Phineas has this air of cool sophistication and experience about him that I could never aspire to.

  In short, he’s way out of my league, possibly not even on the same team.

  Sports metaphors are also not my strong suit.

  I lie in bed for a long time thinking about our dinner at Nero’s, picking it apart, trying to see if there were clues I missed, something that could be interpreted another way. It’s possible he was flirting with me, but I can’t be sure. I’m not confident enough to get my hopes up in any appreciable way.

  When I wake up, the windows are frosted over with ice, the world blanketed in a fog of silver before the sun’s had a chance to cut through. I’ll need to salt the walks and make sure everything’s clear around the manger scene already set up outside. In past years, the church has done their Nativity play right there outside with the same ramshackle manger they’ve been using for who knows how long. This year, I’m hoping for a bigger turnout. I want to have refreshments and caroling along with the play, and thought it would all work out better inside.

  But that means building a new set, hence all the work.

  With the ten-pound bag of salt in tow, I head out across the lawn toward the front of the church. A shadowy shape moves in the fog, and it looks like it’s coming from the manger.

  My heart stops, visions of vandalism and destruction already popping up in my head unbidden.

  “Hey!” I call, dropping the salt. I rush over, careful not to slip, but there’s no one around.

  A closer investigation of the scene doesn’t provide any more clues, either. It doesn’t look like anyone was here. Everything looks just how I left it last night, untouched.

  I must’ve been seeing things in the fog. Or maybe it was a deer, bedding somewhere warm for the night. Could be all kinds of things, but at least it wasn’t vandals.

  Heart rate slowing back to normal, I set to work spreading out the salt and tidying up my church.

  Chapter 3

  Phineas

  It’s Wednesday afternoon—finally—and I’m putting all my ducks in a row so that I can leave to help Liam at the church. It’s only been a few days since I last saw him, but it feels like forever. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Liam… how his smile warms me up even when it’s snowing out, how his eyes draw me in and erase all my thoughts like my brain’s a freshly shaken Etch-A-Sketch.

  “Are you running out of here?” Paul asks, hearing my desk chair squeak across the floor.

  “You say it like I’m fleeing in the middle of the night,” I answer from within my office. Paul appears in the doorway, brow arched, lips curved into a smile.

  “So you weren’t going to sneak out without saying anything?” he challenges.

  I don’t answer. I was probably going to say something, but there’s no point arguing with him about it. It’ll just waste time.

  Time I could spend with Liam instead.

  “Where you off to?” my brother presses, though judging by his lingering smile, I think he’s got a pretty good idea.

  “Helping with the Nativity,” I mutter, wishing I had some cover story. It wouldn’t do me any good though. Liam would never corroborate a lie, and I wouldn’t put it past him to thank me for my help in front of my brother.

  I can see that deception blowing up in my face from a mile away.

  Paul grins. “With Pastor Liam?” he asks stepping into the office, blocking my way out.

  “Last I checked,” I grumble. “You don’t have to be so insufferable about it.”

  “I just want you to admit you’ve got a crush on him!” Paul cries, nearly pulling off offended, but I’m not going to let him turn the tables on me like that.

  “Why’s it any of your business?”

  He scoffs. “Like you weren’t all up in my business with Alton.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Why? Because you’re twelve minutes older? Because you think you know everything?”

  I frown. “Because he hurt you, you asshole.”

  Paul’s defensive stance softens, and it’s just enough for me to barrel past him.

  “Wait!” he calls before I manage to get my coat on. Damn winter. If it were any other season I’d just rush out without having to continue this little tiff.

  “I really don’t have the time or patience for this right now, Paul,” I say, not hiding any of my irritation.

  “I just wanted to ask you to take this to Alton on your way,” he says, making a face as he hands over a bag from the bakery. “He was going to meet me for lunch but got held up with a loan application. I was going to take that over to him when I got a chance, but—”

  “Yeah, I’ll take it.” He’s not going to have much chance to leave with me already gone.

  “Try to be nice, will you?” Paul implores.

  “No promises,” I answer, smiling at his annoyed huff. I love my brother, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop giving him a hard time. It’s what I do.

  The credit union where Alton works is more or less on the way to the church, so it’s not much of a detour to drop off my future brother-in-law’s lunch. And I really do need to try to get over my feelings toward him. He makes Paul happy, and that’s what matters. As long as he keeps doing that, we don’t have a problem.

  “Welcome to Snow Lake Credit— Oh, hi Phineas,” Alton greets me from behind the counter. It’s still a little strange to me how easily he can tell us apart. Even our parents struggle with it now and then. Alton has never mistaken me for Paul, or vice versa.

  “Working the front desk? I thought you were the branch manager.”

  He nods. “I am, but my tellers take breaks. What’s up?” He’s obviously suspicious of me, and not thrilled to have me standing in front of him.

  “Paul wanted me to bring you this,” I say, handing over the bag.

  Instantly, Alton’s whole demeanor changes, his face brightens, and he’s smiling ear to ear while he pulls out his goodies.

  “He is such a sweetheart. Thank you. Wait… Why didn’t he deliver it himself?”

  Damn it. I don’t know why I didn’t anticipate that question, but here he’s caught me completely off-guard, still without a plausible cover story.

  “I was already going out, on my way to the church to help with the Nativity set,” I answer, shrugging.

  Alton’s smile grows. “Pastor Liam?”

  I roll my eyes. “What is it with you two? It’s his first year here; I want to help. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”

  Alton nods, but his smile doesn’t change. “It doesn’t have to be. You’re right.”

  “You’re the last person I’m talking to about this. Enjoy your lunch,” I grumble, offering a halfhearted, half-annoyed wave on my way out.

  It’s bad enough my brother has to taunt me about my crush, but he’s got to get his boyfriend in on it too? That’s just not fair.

  Despite the cold in the air, it’s a nice day, the sky’s clear, the sun’s up, and the wind is minimal. It’s the kind of day that beckons you outside to revel in it while you can.

  There’s work to do, though.

  By the time I get to the church, rehearsal’s already happening. I sneak in and wave to my fellow painters, who are looking a little lost without direction. That’s surprising. I didn’t get the impression that my presence mattered one way or the other to them, but there definitely seems to be a bit of perk added to the group once they see me.

  “Hey guys, how’s it going?”

  “We didn’t know if you were coming,” one of the boys says.

  “Oh, yeah, I just had to run an errand, but I’m here now. Let’s get going.”

  And just like that
, they know what to do. I help open paint cans, but they don’t need real instructions. They remember the lessons from last time. So what were they waiting for?

  We’re painting for a few minutes before I see Liam look my way. He gives me a smile, and a little head nod before looking back at the kids.

  “I don’t want to be the innkeeper,” one of the boys says, flapping his script. “He’s mean!”

  Liam frowns. “Why do you think he’s mean?”

  “He made Jesus sleep in a barn,” the kid says, and I can barely hold my laughter.

  Liam crouches down, getting on eye level with the boy. “Why, though?”

  The boy throws up his arms. “I don’t know!”

  “Maggie, read your last line again,” Liam says gently.

  Maggie stumbles through sounding out the words she hasn’t memorized yet, her voice too quiet for me to make out a bit of it. I hope Liam’s got microphones planned, or little Maggie’s going to have to learn to project.

  “There was no room at the inn,” Liam says. “It was already full of people trying to keep warm, away from the cold,” he adds, waving toward the door. “He couldn’t just throw some of them out for Mary and Joseph, but he told them they could stay in the barn. It wasn’t much, but it would be shelter. It would be warm. If you ask me, the innkeeper sounds like a holy man, not mean at all.”

  The little boy considers it for a long moment, then finally scuffs his toe and nods. “I guess.”

  “So what do you say? Will you be our innkeeper? We can’t do this without him,” Liam persists. I’m not sure how true that is. It seems like any one of these kids could stand in place and shrug their shoulders when Ella waddles over with a balloon under her dress and point to the barn set. But it’s cute to watch him give his pep talk. He’s good at it.

  “Say yes, Scottie,” says one of the little angels.

  “Okay,” Scottie says, nodding.

  “Awesome! Can I get a high-five?” Liam asks, offering his hand. Scottie obliges, and they go back to rehearsal, that minor crisis averted.

  I really don’t know how he does it. How he manages to be so patient and understanding. How he can offer a lesson while still inching the kid in the right direction. I’ve never really given any thought to kids—you kind of need to have some expectation of a relationship to consider them—or parenting. Seeing Liam with these kids brings up ideas, though. They’re so cute. He’s helping them sound out words, explaining what different things mean, always patient, able to make it fun and engaging for them.