'Tis the Season

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “But—”

  “No charge,” Estelle said, looking immovable, “or no deal. I’ll even do a gingerbread house for you, if you like.”

  “I—that would be wonderful.” Anna gave way before Estelle’s approach just as Sam had earlier.

  “If you need any other decorative items, things the guild can supply,” Estelle continued, “you have only to ask. As you can see, we have many lovely things.” She swept her arm around the room.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Anna knew that she had to be careful or Estelle would arrive with a truckload of crafts and insist on arranging them all over Sam’s house. “For now, the quilt and the gingerbread will do nicely.”

  “Then let’s get this folded up and in the bag for you.”

  Later that afternoon, after they’d brought the refinished sleigh bed home and she was helping Sam put it together, Anna found herself thinking about Hilary Schute, and wondering if she had indulged Sam in much the same way Estelle Terwiliger had today. Probably, since he seemed to enjoy that type of nurturing domesticity. That thought brought her back to Sam’s comment in the truck about her weaving, which had shown a definite direction in his thinking about her future. She decided it was time to clarify her views on the matter. “I really don’t think I could ever make my living as a weaver,” she said, handing him a rubber mallet to tap in the dowels.

  “Not now, with your schedule.” He attached the headboard to one side rail and picked up the footboard.

  “No, I mean that I have no desire to make my living as a weaver, even if I had all the time in the world.”

  He positioned the footboard and glanced up. “Why not? You certainly seem to be enjoying the loom.”

  “I am, but right now I’m weaving for enjoyment, creating projects of my choice without any pressure.” She braced the footboard for him.

  “And if it was your source of income, you’d feel pressured?” He fastened the footboard on both sides and moved to the last connection on the other side of the headboard. “How do you know if you never try it and find out? You might love weaving full-time.” He stepped out of the frame and reached for the slats that held the mattress and box spring.

  “I guess I don’t know.” Anna helped him fit slats across the width of the bed. “But I realized today that you seem to have that concept fixed as a definite point in the future.”

  “Give me a hand with this box spring, will you?” He seemed to be ignoring her comment.

  “I just don’t want you to have the wrong impression of where I’ll end up.” She helped him ease the box spring onto the frame, and together they slid the mattress in place.

  “Let me tell you what impression I have of you,” he said, walking around the bed. “Better yet,” he added, grabbing her and tumbling with her onto the mattress, “let me demonstrate.”

  “We haven’t even finished!” She laughed in spite of herself as he began undressing her.

  “Close enough.” He unhooked her bra and tugged at her sweatpants and underwear. Within seconds he’d pulled both past her ankles and tossed them over the side of the sleigh bed. “Now, about impressions. I love this one.” He massaged her breast with lazy circles of his palm. “When your nipple tightens, it makes a terrific impression on me,” he murmured into her ear.

  “Mmm.” She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. She also chose to ignore the little voice that reminded her he’d neatly avoided the discussion about her weaving.

  “Oh, my love.” He slid his arm beneath her and sipped at her uplifted breasts. “Talk about impressions,” he whispered against her skin.

  Her body heated as his gentle suction telegraphed passion down to the epicenter of her desire. Still clothed himself, he moved between her uncovered thighs and nudged the warm, moist spot there to encourage the tremors that would soon become an earthquake of sensation.

  “You make a few…impressions of your own,” she said unevenly.

  “You like that impression?” He rubbed the wear-softened denim gently back and forth and gazed into her eyes.

  “I do.” Holding his gaze, she reached blindly for the buttons of his shirt. She fumbled with the task as he continued moving sensuously against her. “I want you so much.”

  He smiled. “That’s the idea.”

  “Oh, Sam,” she moaned, wrenching the last button out of its buttonhole. “Sam, I need—”

  “Me, too.” He levered himself away from her. “I think I’ll take these off and impress the heck out of you.” He was breathing hard as he rolled away to strip off his jeans.

  “Egotist.”

  “We’ll see.” He grabbed a condom from the bedside drawer and before long he hovered over her, teasing her with small thrusts. “Impressed yet?”

  “Not yet,” she fibbed, gasping as he stoked the blaze within her.

  “Yet?” He pushed a little farther.

  “No.”

  “Sure takes…a lot…to impress you,” he choked out. “Here goes.” He buried himself with a groan.

  “I’m…impressed,” she whispered as he began a deep, penetrating rhythm. He brought her to the heights with long, sure strokes that coaxed murmurs and squeaks from the sleigh bed and cries of love from her.

  “And I love you,” he whispered, accelerating the pace. “More than anything…in the…world. Anna, now—yes!”

  For a sweet, measureless time they swirled in the eddies of their own creation. Then gradually contentment settled around them, and they were still.

  Sam propped himself on his elbows and smiled down at her. “I think we impressed each other that time.”

  “I agree.” She returned his smile. “You give a whole new meaning to the idea of a sleigh ride.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “That’s right. This was supposed to be a significant event, trying out the bed.”

  “It was pretty significant to me.”

  “Yes, but did you think about the bed while we made love?”

  “Can’t say that I did. Only afterward.”

  “Me, either. So much for the importance of atmosphere. I guess it just proves that when I’m loving you, I can be happy on any flat, relatively soft surface. But the bed is nice. I think we’ll go for lots of sleigh rides in the future.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Me, too. I wish we weren’t limited to weekends, though.”

  “That reminds me. What if I took some vacation time and spent the week before the tree cutting ceremony here?”

  “In this bed? Fantastic!”

  “In Sumersbury, crazy man.”

  “Darn. Well, having you in Sumersbury for a whole week is a start, and I’ll work on the rest.”

  “You’re a dreamer.” She reached up to kiss him lightly. “You’ll be very busy that week.”

  “Not that busy. I love your idea. I haven’t been looking forward to this whole shindig, but now I can hardly wait, if I can have you around for a week beforehand.”

  “Then I’ll do it. I can finish all the last-minute Christmas decorations then, and…see how I like being here for longer than a weekend.”

  His eyes warmed. “You’ll love it,” he said. “You belong here, Anna.”

  “In this bed?” she teased, partly to avoid agreeing or disagreeing with him. She wasn’t ready to do either yet.

  “That, too.” He leaned down to capture her lips once again.

  Eleven

  The Saturday after Thanksgiving, Anna took the Sumersbury exit off the turnpike and headed for her week in the country. She’d stuffed her car with supplies for Vivian and Jimmy’s visit the following weekend and last-minute purchases for Sam’s house — candles, lights, ribbons and ornaments. She’d found a good sale on poinsettias, and a dozen plants were propped in the back seat, along with rolls of rustic-looking wrapping paper to create make-believe packages under the tree.

  She planned to unload her personal supplies at her house before going over to Sam’s. He was too busy to spend any time with her
this afternoon, anyway. Their peaceful weekends had been usurped by the Christmas tree season.

  As she approached his farm, she heard chainsaws buzzing, and a large truck with a tarp-covered load of trees rumbled out of his driveway as she passed. For the next three weeks, crews would work every day cutting trees to be shipped elsewhere. Local customers arrived to dig or cut their own trees between seven in the morning and nine at night.

  When Sam had realized how little time he’d have to spend with her, he’d suggested she take a week during Christmas, instead. But she thought this week would be an excellent test of her endurance in the country. If she was ever going to live here full time, she needed to experience what it was like when Sam was otherwise occupied.

  Besides, she needed to finish the holiday decorating of his house. He’d also suggested she include Thanksgiving and the Friday after as part of her vacation, but she hadn’t been able to spare the time from her projects at work. As it was, she’d spent the morning tying up loose ends and hadn’t left the city until noon.

  During the drive to Sumersbury, she’d waited for the lift of spirits that she’d expected would accompany her vacation. Instead she felt ambivalent. Spending each night with Sam would be wonderful, but as luck would have it, her work in the city was becoming more interesting every day, and she’d had to leave several projects hanging until her return. Weaving had added a new dimension to her career, and she relished introducing her own creations into decorating schemes.

  She wasn’t ready to sort out what her renewed interest in design meant. Perhaps after this week, she’d be choosing between two appealing alternatives – a career in weaving and residing in the country year-round, or a continuation of the way she was living now, with her time split between city and country.

  Leaving her car in her driveway, she unlocked the house and carted her supplies inside. In the process she took note of what she’d accomplished in the past few weeks. By watching sales, she’d found an excellent buy on a floral print sofa and a burgundy Queen Anne wing chair. Sam had unearthed a couple of end tables that had been stored in his barn and were in amazingly good shape, and she’d found a brass lamp that looked far richer than its price.

  Upstairs she’d created a guest room for Vivian and Jimmy with a brass bedstead a client had wanted to sell and old barrels Sam had given her as nightstands. She’d used swags of decorative sheeting to soften the tall, narrow windows and covered the bed with an inexpensive hobnail spread and a generous array of accent pillows, including two that she’d woven the covers for herself.

  Just putting one or two of her woven items in a room made the decor come alive for her. If she stayed in interior design, her weaving would be what kept her fresh for the task. She wondered if she would ever have rediscovered weaving without Sam. Someday, perhaps, but maybe not before she’d left interior design for another career.

  After putting away her groceries, she locked the house and hurried through the cold to her car. The air smelled good, crisp with a hint of wood smoke, and the landscape reminded her of a hand-painted Oriental screen — soft beige hills, curving rock walls and dark tree branches leafless against a gray winter sky. Snow hadn’t hit Connecticut yet this year, and all the residents of Sumersbury anxiously watched the weather report each night. Nature had only a week left to make a Currier and Ives print of the countryside for the television special.

  She drove the short distance to Sam’s and parked in front of the house. His truck was gone, but she’d expected that. She started carrying poinsettias into the house.

  “Hi, Anna!” John called from over by the barn. He was supervising three boys as they wrapped heavy twine around trees to compress the branches and conserve moisture. A cache of trees was kept in the barn for local customers who didn’t want to cut or dig their own. “Sam’s out with a couple guys getting that pond filled,” John shouted across the yard. “Said to tell you he’d be back soon as he could. Need any help with that?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t have much.” She continued into the house with a poinsettia in each hand. She’d met John two weeks ago, when work at the farm had picked up and he’d put in some Saturday hours. They’d hit it off.

  John looked more like a Christmas tree farmer than Sam. For one thing, he was older than Sam by at least twenty years, and his weathered face exuded experience. Everyone knew when John was around. He delivered both commands and jokes in a booming voice that resonated out of his barrel chest.

  She finished carrying everything inside, hung her winter coat in the hall closet and breathed in appreciatively. At her instruction, Sam had set up undecorated trees in every room and a pile of boughs lay on a sheet of plastic by the door. Outside the evergreen scent was scattered by space and breezes, but inside the fragrance gathered in full force.

  The aroma of gingerbread mingled with pine. Anna walked into the kitchen to find an elaborate frosted and candy-coated house on the counter and a shirt box beside it. She lifted the cover and discovered neat rows of exquisitely decorated gingerbread Santas, trees, stars and bells, all with ornament hangers baked into the tops. Estelle should be allowed to sing the whole score of the “Messiah” in exchange for this.

  The back door opened and she glanced up as Sam came in and gathered her up for a bear hug. “Merry Christmas,” he said, pressing his cold cheek against hers. “I thought you’d never get here.”

  “Everything smells wonderful.”

  “Especially my decorator.” He nuzzled the curve of her neck.

  She shivered with delight at his caress and had the fleeting wish that he could make love to her this very minute. She wasn’t used to being around him without having him to herself. This week would be a lesson in patience. “How’s the pond coming along?” she asked, trying to forestall the urges of her body.

  “When I hold you like this, I don’t give a damn,” he replied. “Lord, you feel good. I love touching you.” He slid both hands up her rib cage and cupped her breasts.

  “I love it when you do.” She locked her hands behind his neck and gazed up at him. “But I think your work crews will miss you if we indulge in what I’m thinking about.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. But tonight seems so far away.”

  “We’ll stay busy.” She kissed him lightly. “I have plenty to do in here, and I’m sure you have plenty to do out there.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Thanks for setting up the trees and bringing in the pine boughs. And Estelle’s work is amazing. I hope you thanked her.”

  He grinned. “She’ll have her reward. The television people promised to interview her as the town’s holiday chairwoman and lifelong resident of Sumersbury. I couldn’t give Estelle a higher payment than national stardom, brief though it will be.”

  “You’ll be a star, too, you know. Ever thought of that?”

  “Not especially.”

  “Women from all over the country will see you in the middle of this romantic country setting and fall in love with you.” She smiled. “Offers will come pouring in.”

  “There’s only one offer I’m interested in.” He combed his fingers through her hair. “Only one woman I want to capture with this romantic country setting.”

  “I think she’s already half in the bag.”

  “That’s good. I—damn, I think John’s calling me.”

  “I think so, too. You’d better go.”

  He kissed her quickly and opened the back door. “Be right there, John!” he called. Then he turned back to her. “Before I forget, Tessie’s coming by with her loom this afternoon. She offered to help you if you needed her.”

  “I’d like that. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  “Will you decorate some of the trees today?”

  “I’ll probably get started. I have a lot to do.”

  “Save the big tree in the parlor, okay? I’d like to trim that one with you. We’ll play some carols tonight and get in the spirit.”

  “Aren’t you sick of Christmas trees by now
?”

  “Believe it or not, no. I love this.”

  “Then it’s settled,” she said, enjoying his enthusiasm. “We’ll decorate the tree together.”

  “And take a sleigh ride afterward,” he said with a wink. “Bye, sweetheart.”

  “Bye.” She watched him trot over to the barn and confer with John. In this fragrant, cozy house, held by his strong arms, it was incredibly easy to envision her life unfolding here, and some of her anxiety about the week ahead began to fade. Returning to the parlor, she hummed a tune while she unpacked candles and ribbons. She laughed when she realized the tune was “Sleigh Ride”.

  An hour later, when Tessie arrived with her loom in the back of a pickup, Anna was already excited about the results of her work. She’d found some old crockery in the kitchen and placed a poinsettia plant in each one. Then she lined them up on the stairway. The ruby glassware shone in the windows and on the mantel, and she’d arranged fir boughs and red velvet ribbon around the glassware.

  Tessie handed her an armload of fresh holly wrapped in wax paper.

  “Wonderful!” Anna exclaimed.

  “I sprinkled it down, and I’d keep it in water until a day or so before the filming,” Tessie advised. “Nothing looks worse than dried-out holly.”

  “It’ll be the perfect final touch.” She took the bundle into the kitchen and found a large mason jar to fill with water. “I really appreciate this.”

  “And I appreciate all the yarn you’ve been buying, even when your loom is in New York.” Tessie followed her into the kitchen. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “Of course I did. Your coaching has helped me through some tough projects this fall, and besides, you agreed to bring your loom over so that I could leave Hilary’s in the city.” She set the holly in a corner of the kitchen. “I’ll get my coat and help you carry it in.”

  Tessie was prepared with a ramp, as Sam had been, and the two women unloaded the loom with no trouble.

  “You’ve got a holiday project on this loom,” Anna said, feeling guilty. “I shouldn’t deprive you of time to work right before Christmas.”