My heart zipped with panic. “River! We said no gifts!” I shook my head, fingers running over the paper on the box. “I didn’t… I don’t have one for you.”
“Would you just open it, woman?”
I shook my head, pinching his side before I pulled at the first shoestring, and then the other, freeing the hold on the box. I peeled back the newspaper carefully, and then opened the box — the one that had held the space heater his dad bought for us when our heater broke.
Inside the box was a beautiful blanket.
It had the look of a quilt, with “patches” covering every inch of it, though they weren’t actually stitched on. It was the pattern, but it gave the look that each little square had been sewed and stitched together. The blanket was every shade of green and red imaginable, with little scenes playing out in each square — Santa on his sleigh, presents around a tree, baby Jesus in the manger, a snowman with a carrot nose. On and on, every square telling a story as I peeled the blanket out of the box, unfolding it as I did.
The blanket was massive — the largest one I’d ever seen. And it was heavy, lined with fleece. I marveled at the pictures and the colors as I pulled it out, until the entire thing rested in a heap over my lap, River’s, and the empty box between us.
“It’s beautiful,” I said with a smile, holding it to my chest. “And so warm.”
River smiled, setting aside the box between us and wrapping us both up in the new blanket. Its warmth was instantaneous, and it seemed to hold our body heat underneath it like a sauna. I cozied up inside it, tucking the edges under my legs and bum before leaning into River’s embrace.
“I know it’s not much,” he said, shaking his head. “And maybe I shouldn’t have spent the money I did on this blanket. I’m sure we could have used it for something else. We need milk and bread. We’re almost out of coffee. Hell, most importantly, we need another space heater while we wait for old man Lonny to fix our heat.” He pulled back, tilting my chin until our eyes met. “But I wanted you to have this blanket. I wanted you to have a gift to open on Christmas, because you should, and because you deserve it.” He swallowed. “You deserve so much more.”
I framed his face, shaking my head, but before I could speak, he continued.
“I know this isn’t what either of us pictured when we thought of our first Christmas together. God knows I wish I could give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of, Eliza. I wish I could give you the house and the yard and the big tree and the kitchen of your dreams. But, take this blanket as a promise. This is my promise that I will work hard, all my life, to give you everything I can. I will do everything in my power to get you that house, to shower you in gifts, to make all your dreams come true.” He leaned in to press a kiss to my lips, long and slow. “And I will never stop fighting for us.”
Tears flooded my eyes again, but this time from a completely different emotion. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his lips to mine, kissing him over and over, again and again.
“You silly boy,” I said through a mixture of laughter and tears. “You are the only gift I have ever wanted or needed. You are the best gift I have ever been given.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry that I lost sight of that.”
“One day, you’ll have it all,” he promised me.
But when I patted the spot next to us on the couch and Moose hopped up to sit on the other side of me, I wrapped that blanket around me and River a little tighter, leaning into his warm arms and feeling his lips press against my hair. And I knew one thing to be true.
“I already do.”
Moose licking my face brought me back to the present, and as if he had also been in that memory with me, he nuzzled into the blanket, letting out little playful snorts as he rolled around in it.
I laughed, patting his belly, my eyes tracing over the little scenes on each square just like they had all those years ago.
“I can’t believe you still have this,” I said, glancing up at River. His eyes were on the blanket, too, though he wore those bent brows just as fiercely as before.
He said nothing.
“I still remember when you gave it to me,” I said with a smile, running my hands over the fabric. “God, I don’t think I would have survived that cold Christmas without it.” I chuckled. “And we used it every year after that. Do you remember? It was our tree skirt one year, if I remember right.” I shook my head. “I used to love pulling it out every year, having it on the couch for us to cuddle under.” My heart squeezed. “I think it’s my favorite gift I’ve ever received.”
My eyes found River’s then, and he was watching me with a sort of glaze over those green irises. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard in his throat.
Then, abruptly, he stood.
“I’m going to bed.”
I blinked, mouth hinging open as I scrambled to my feet, too. “Wait,” I started, but when he turned to look at me, I found I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t claim that it was early, since it was well after ten now, and if I knew anything about River, it was that he got up early. And I couldn’t ask him to stay up and help me decorate, knowing that was the last thing he wanted to do.
But I wanted him to wait.
I just couldn’t figure out why.
“You can have the bed,” he said when I didn’t speak. “I’ll take the couch.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the sofa, Eliza.”
I swallowed, nodding. “Okay. Thank you.” Then, I chewed my lip, looking behind me at the open boxes, the Christmas Blanket spilling half out of the bigger one. “Would it keep you up if I stayed up a little while longer?” I asked, facing River again. “I really would like to decorate, if that’s okay.”
River’s eyes flicked behind me, his jaw tense again. “You know I can sleep through a hurricane.”
“Or in this case, a blizzard?” I joked.
He didn’t laugh.
“Come on, Moose,” he said, patting his thigh. Then, his eyes met mine. “It’s too cold to take him out tonight, and there’s no telling if I’d even be able to get the door open with the snow right now. I’m going to lay some newspaper out in the bathroom for him. Just let me know if he does a number two and you see it before I do.”
“I can clean it up,” I offered.
“No need,” he said, turning his back on me. “He’s my dog.”
The truth of that statement stung like dry ice on a wet tongue. I watched Moose follow him back to the bathroom, and when the door closed with a snick, I winced as if he’d slammed it.
River got ready for bed quietly — so quietly I didn’t even realize he had laid down on the couch while I’d been unpacking all the items from the two boxes. It wasn’t until I turned with the Christmas Blanket draped over my arms and found him lying there, his feet hanging over the arm of one side, arm resting over his eyes on the other, that I realized he was no longer in the bathroom.
He had a blanket that only covered him from his shins to his armpits, and the pillow shoved under his head was small and not nearly as fluffy as the two he’d left for me on the bed. But by the sound of his breath, he was already asleep, and I remembered with a smile that that man could sleep anywhere, anytime, through anything.
I set the blanket aside, carefully taking the first string of lights from where I’d set it on the stone edge of the fireplace. I plugged it in, smiling when the cool blue bulbs came to life. The crackling of the fire and the quietness only fresh falling snow can bring was my only comfort as I strung those lights, and then the white ones. I wrapped the silver garland around next, and then I carefully placed each ornament.
As I decorated, my thoughts ran wild.
It was so strange, being back in this town, in this cabin, back with River. It was like the last four years of my adventures around the globe had been a dream, and I’d just woken up back in my own bed, in my own home.
Except it wasn’t my home at all.
Not anymore.
But why did it feel that way? Why did I feel such warmth and comfort in the same place I’d felt so stuck in?
I found myself wondering more and more with each new piece of decoration what my life would have been like, if things would have been different. Holding that Christmas blanket, it was hard to remember the bad times. It was hard to remember the fights, the weeks of silence from River, of him not letting me in and me fighting for him to try for us.
How did we go from that pure, innocent love, to practical strangers living under the same roof?
How had he gone from the man swearing he would fight for us, to the one telling me I should go on without him?
How had I gone from the girl who had all she ever needed in her husband and her dog, to the woman who needed more to feed her soul than this small town could ever provide?
My mom used to always quote Woody Allen.
If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.
I thought I understood that when I was a little girl. I thought even more so when I was a young woman, a young wife.
But now, thinking about the plans I’d made, the way those plans had fallen apart, the path life had led me on that I never would have imagined… I think I finally truly understood it.
I must have been God’s favorite joke.
River let out a loud snore, and I suppressed a giggle, watching as he flopped around a few times in his attempt to turn into a more comfortable position. Moose flopped around in his own bed on the floor next to the couch in solidarity, ending up on his back with his legs spread, belly up.
River’s breathing smoothed out again after a moment, heavy and steady, and I watched his chest rise and fall with each breath. In his tossing and turning, the little blanket that couldn’t have been doing much anyway had wrapped around his legs, covering nothing more than one thigh and calf.
I smiled, chest aching in a most unfamiliar way as I unfolded the Christmas Blanket, spreading the massive thing over where he lay. It covered every inch from his toes to his shoulders, and I tucked it around him a little for good measure.
My throat was tight as I looked down on him — the stranger, the man I once knew better than I knew myself.
How had we lost a love that was so true?
And who were we now, on the other side of that loss?
Those questions kept me awake long after I climbed into his bed that night — into sheets that smelled like River, my head resting on pillows that I knew without looking were the ones we’d bought together.
That night, I dreamed about all the places I’d been in the last four years. I dreamed of Italy, and Canada. Of Scotland and Japan. I dreamed of the south of France and the U.S. Virgin Islands and the stunning coast of Australia. Only instead of being on the ground, I was flying over every place I’d explored, pointing at the different landmarks with an ever-extended finger.
And I wasn’t flying in a plane.
I was sitting cross-legged on a magical Christmas Blanket, floating over the cities and mountains and beautiful rivers.
And there beside me, holding my free hand as I pointed out everywhere I’d been with the other, was River.
I woke the next morning to the smell of a strong pot of coffee brewing and the sweet sound of bacon sizzling.
I reached my arms up overhead, toes pointed toward the foot of the bed, letting out a giant yawn as I stretched. When my eyes finally cracked open, I found a slobbering Moose staring at me from the side of the bed.
I chuckled, “Morning, Moose.”
His tail wagged even more excitedly when I plopped my feet on the floor, and instantly, I reached for the pair of socks I’d stripped off in the middle of the night, along with my big sweater. Even with that and my sweatpants, I was freezing.
I took my time petting Moose, making sure to scratch his butt and behind his ears and under his collar like I knew he loved. Then, I looked out the window at the blinding blanket of white.
It was difficult to tell just how much snow had fallen because it was still falling — or maybe what had already fallen was just being blown around by the wind. I couldn’t be sure, but it was easy to see the conditions hadn’t improved much. It was cloudy and windy and there was definitely no way I was getting to my parents — at least, not anytime soon.
I made a pit stop in the bathroom, brushing my hair and my teeth before I made my way into the kitchen, rubbing my hands together.
“Hey,” I said, leaning a hip against the counter. “Merry Christmas Eve.”
A sort of grunt was the gist of the response I got from River, who was flipping bacon in a sizzling skillet on the stove.
Shirtless.
And somehow, he seemed to be… sweaty?
There was just a light sheen of gloss over his chest, his arms, his abdomen — all which were bigger than I ever remembered seeing. He’d always been more of the lean variety, thanks to years of playing baseball, but he’d filled out. The ridges of his abs were thick and cut, his biceps round and full, chest puffed without trying.
Those lean lines and edges led all the way down to where a pair of black jogger pants hung on his hips, and I’d have been blind not to see just how well fitted they were in certain areas.
When my eyes made their way back up to River’s face, he was already looking at me.
Which meant he’d definitely caught me staring.
“Aren’t you freezing?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
I thought I saw a little smirk at the corner of his lips, but he turned back to the bacon before I could be sure. “Just worked out. Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“You didn’t,” I said, ignoring the little visions frolicking in my head at the thought of what kind of workout he’d done. Then, I walked over to the pot of coffee. “This did.”
“Help yourself. Mugs are up there.” He nodded toward one of the cabinets before taking the bacon off the skillet and setting the strips on a paper towel-covered plate. He reached into the fridge next for the carton of eggs, setting six of them on the counter and dropping the first two into the still sizzling skillet.
I added a touch of sugar to my coffee once it was poured, and as soon as I took the first sip, my chest warmed, and I sighed with relief. “Thank you,” I said, tilting my mug toward him.
A nod was my only response.
For a while, I just watched him cook the eggs, heart warming a little when I realized he was making two of them scrambled, the way I liked them, while he made the rest sunny side up.
He remembered.
I sipped my coffee, wrapping my hands around the mug to soak up all the warmth I could. “You’re a pretty great host for someone who wasn’t expecting anyone.”
A shrug.
“Did you see the tree?”
A nod.
“Well, do you like it?”
“I liked it just as well before.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “You’re such a Scrooge. Come on, you know it’s pretty. You picked out half of those ornaments. And I even hung up your favorite wreath,” I said, pointing to the front door. “Provided, it’s on the inside when it should be on the outside, but at least we can see it this way.”
River finished the last of the eggs, and then he served up my scrambled and a few slices of bacon on a plate and handed it to me. “I didn’t make toast.”
I chuckled, taking the plate. “Thank you.” Then, I nudged him. “See? See how easy that is, those two simple words? You should try them sometime.”
He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling before they found mine, and then he plastered on the fakest smile I’d ever seen. “Thank you, Eliza, for decorating when I didn’t ask you to.”
“And for doing it quietly, as requested,” I added. “You’re welcome.”
River made a noise under his breath, piling up his own plate as we both made our way over to the table he’d been reading at the night before. The metal of the folding chair was cold, even through my sweatpants, but the coffee was still hot enough
to help when I took another sip, and Moose curled up right on top of my feet to help the cause — though I was pretty sure he just wanted some bacon.
Which, of course, I slipped to him under the table when River wasn’t looking.
River stopped long enough to pull on a long-sleeve thermal before joining me at the table, and I was thankful for his new muscles being covered again. I found them far too distracting — though I’d never admit that to him.
“So,” I said after a stretch of silence. “What’s that you’re working on?”
I nodded toward the mess of saw dust and wood in the middle of the cabin over by the bookshelves.
“Boot barn,” he said, shoveling a heap of eggs into his mouth. He washed it down with a big pull of coffee. “Making it for Mrs. Owens. She’s giving it to her son as a wedding gift.”
“I really like the color of the wood.”
“Cedar.”
I nodded, sipping my coffee with my eyes on the project. “So, is that what you’re doing now? Woodwork?”
River shrugged. “Sometimes. More of a hobby than anything.”
Of course, I thought. He’d been that way ever since I’d known him. River hated school, hated tests, hated anything that required studying or long-term dedication. He was smart as hell, and skilled, but when it came to applying himself… well… he just didn’t. He preferred one-off projects that he could do in a day or two and be done with.
“I guess as long as it pays the bills, right?” I said.
Another shrug. “It doesn’t.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a hobby, like I said. I’m doing it as a favor to Mrs. Owens.”
I shook my head. “River, you should charge for work like that. It’s… I mean, the materials alone have got to be expensive.”
“Mrs. Owens has done a lot for me through the years,” he said, his eyes finding mine. “For us, if you remember.”
I shut up at that, because I did remember. Leila Owens was the one who gave me the job down at the supermarket fresh out of high school, and she’d let me take home “expired” food more times than I could count, knowing that River and I didn’t have much.
The Christmas Blanket: A Second-Chance Holiday Romance Page 4
