by Susan Shay
“Oh.” Lame answer. Is it for me? she wanted to ask, but her tongue would only form the words hold me, and no way she would beg for that.
He walked around the table to place the gift in the higher branches of the tree as if it were an ornament. When he was sure it wasn’t going to fall, he moved back to her side and took her in his arms. Finally. She snuggled against him, the perfect fit—as if he’d been created with her in mind.
As naturally as a flower turns toward the sun, he covered her mouth with his. He stroked her tongue, taking the kiss deeper until her knees lost their strength, and if her parents hadn’t been in the next room, preparing to come in at any minute, she’d have pulled him to the floor.
Just as they’d done in his house the last time they were together.
She thought longingly of the bedrooms upstairs. Unhappily, there were no fireplaces in those bedrooms. In fact, there was no heat up there at all, which meant they had to sleep under several layers of quilts anytime they were there during the winter. Not exactly conducive to wild lovemaking, but it wasn’t impossible either.
Much too soon, Dad and Jazzy came back into the room. Feeling as if she were losing a vital part of herself when Spencer broke their kiss, Bella stepped away from him. But she couldn’t go far.
Jazzy spread out the tablecloth she carried, then demanded Bella help her straighten it. While Dad set down the family heirloom china, Jazzy went back for the good silverware.
Bella gritted her teeth as she watched her twin move around the table, to the kitchen and back, in an unusual show of home keeping. She was practically bustling.
When she’d done everything she could to look like Martha Stewart, even carry in the side dishes and light white tapers she’d placed in pewter candlesticks with a long match, Jazzy dazzled them with a smile. “Looks like we’re ready.”
“Great.” Dad reached for the light switch and turned them off. “All right, honey. Bring it in.”
Apparently, Mom had accepted the fact that they had no choice about a visitor for Christmas, and made her annual dramatic entrance, carrying a crown roast filled with stuffing on a huge silver platter. After pausing in the doorway, she swept to the table and set it in the center between softly glowing candles.
Dad opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass for each of them, and with a glance out the window said, “None of you were planning to drive later. Right?”
Spencer gave a bark of laughter, but Jazzy and Mom just chuckled softly at Dad’s annual joke.
As everyone started eating, Jazzy glanced across the table at Spencer. “So…why are you here?”
Unable to believe her sister would ask such a rude question, Bella couldn’t find the words to admonish her. Heads together, Mom and Dad talked softly, missing Jazzy’s missile.
Spencer set his glass down and gave Jazzy an easy smile. “I couldn’t get through Christmas without being with Bella.”
“You sure made it through the last—how long?—without seeing her.” Jazzy took a long drink of her wine. “And you didn’t seem to be suffering much when I saw you yesterday.”
He blew out a soft sigh. “I was with Karla, my godparents’ daughter. She was helping me with…a Christmas gift.”
Surprise flashed in Jazzy’s eyes. She lifted one eyebrow then glanced at Bella before stabbing him with her gaze again. “Really?”
“Really.” He tipped his head toward the tree. “It’s in the upper branches.”
Finally one corner of Jazzy’s mouth tipped up. “Score.” Then she leaned back in her chair, a full smile spreading across her face. Can you believe this guy? she whispered to Bella in her mind. According to Doc, he spent all of last week and part of the one before working to secure new leases for their oil company. Missed several holiday parties, too. And now he’s driven all this way to be with you.
If he’d waited only a couple of days, you’d have been back in Dallas. Easy access. Putting her fingers on her temples, she massaged the ache their twin speak caused.
Maybe he didn’t want to wait.
A smug look curved Jazzy’s lips and brightened her eyes. Any idea why?
No. But I’m glad he’s here, Bella answered.
What about that woman he was with? His cousin?
His godparent’s daughter. Bella lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. Who cares who he was with? He’s with me now.
Being with her had to be important to him, didn’t it? The long drive, after the trip he’d just returned from, and impending weather would have been enough to stop most men. But even with his close knit family, Spencer was here with her. The thought thrilled her, sending a buzz jangling along her nerves.
Mom glanced down the table. “Did you park out back, Spencer?”
He shook his head. “No. My car’s out on the county road, somewhere between here and town.”
A frown of concern puckered Mom’s brow. “You walked in this weather? Why, that’s dangerous. People freeze to death in temperatures this low. How far did you walk?”
Spencer chuckled. “Far enough to give a snowman frost bite. Luckily I was prepared.”
“You knew you’d be running into weather this bad, and you came anyway?” Shock sharpened Mom’s voice.
Spencer refocused his gaze, settling it on Bella. Summer heat slid down her spine. “I couldn’t make myself stay away.”
****
We were almost finished eating when we lost power. Not that it’s unusual for the electricity to go out at the farm. Any kind of inclement weather can send darkness crashing in on us. That’s why we kept several hurricane lamps and a supply of lamp oil handy.
Luckily, I’d thought to add candles to our holiday table, so we weren’t flailing in the darkness when it happened. Once we were over the initial surprise, we finished eating and started cleaning up—not an easy task without light.
After helping carry in dirty dishes, I started washing with water from the huge kettle Mom kept heating on the stove while Bella and Spencer dried. Mom and Dad put away leftovers and straightened up the living room.
I hated being the only one alone on a holiday like this. I’d never felt so desolate in my life. And watching Bella and Spencer only made it worse. The more I tried not to, the more I missed Doc.
A rogue thought attacked me. If Spencer had come, why hadn’t Doc come with him?
Anger sizzled along my nape while my crippled ego curled in my belly, firing me with energy so I practically scrubbed the pattern off the china. My assigned chore was completed in record time.
While Bella and Spencer messed around, spending more time touching one another when they thought I wasn’t looking than drying dishes, I moved through the kitchen, putting away condiments and candle sticks. Then I stormed to the living room to carry the chairs back where they belonged, and I would have moved the table back, but Dad stopped me. “That’s too heavy for you to lift. Let Spencer and me do it.”
I started to argue. “It’s not too heav—”
“Yes, it is.” Dad’s voice was sharp. A tone I hadn’t heard from him since high school. “Lifting things that are too heavy might keep you from having babies—”
“Mark!” Mom’s shocked yelp stopped his tirade.
Dad stopped practically mid-word, and I was glad he had. No way I wanted to discuss reproduction and whether lifting heavy weights could make a woman sterile—which I firmly doubted, but Dad, undoubtedly believed.
Thankfully, Mom was there to change the subject. “Remember the year we came down for Christmas, and were snowed in for days?”
“Yeah,” Dad answered, a half smile creasing his face. “The girls were just little, and both of your parents were still with us.”
“That was…quite a Christmas.” Mom glanced at me, then at the floor as if by looking at me, she might let the dark family secret escape.
I remembered that Christmas very clearly. Bella and I were nearly three, and the full moon was almost upon us. That was when Grandma Maleva took me aside and taught me about
my heritage.
I learned how to control my gift rather than letting it control me. And I’d learned that year just how wonderful being a werewolf could be.
Grandma Maleva and I’d grown closer than any grandmother/granddaughter pair I’ve ever known.
I only wished she were there with us that night. Maybe she could have told me how to expend some of the energy building along my muscles. What I really needed was to go out for a run. But with the snow coming down like it was, Mom would never let me out the door. And if I could get past her, Dad and Bella would be there to block me.
As if I could get into trouble. Who’d ever heard of a wolf freezing to death? Or getting lost in the snow? But trying to convince my family of that was a practice in futility.
I didn’t bother to try.
Still hoping to work off the blistering energy, I carried in several armloads of wood, used some of it to pile the fire high, swept up the wood dust and tossed it in. I went through the French doors, kept closed to encapsulate the living room heat, and up the stairs to my bedroom, built alongside the chimney for a modicum of heat. I quickly found I couldn’t stand being caged there, and jogged back down.
Finally I grabbed my jacket, went onto the screened front porch—the width of the house—and prowled. I walked the length of the enclosure again, and the entire time, I thought of Doc. I could envision his eyes as easily as I could blink. The memory of our night in his bed was as alive within me. To conjure his scent, I only had to take a deep breath. Now if I could only make him appear, too, life would be perfect.
But there are some things even a werewolf can’t do.
The front door squealed in protest as it opened. Spencer stepped out on the porch, tucked his hands in his pockets and moved close enough to me he wouldn’t have to yell over the blizzard. “Want me to tell you why he’s not here?”
I wanted to act as if I wasn’t sure who he was talking about, but I’ve never been able to pretend to have a feather brain. I stopped pacing and stared out at the storm. “I guess.” My voice was so husky, I wasn’t sure he’d heard me over the wind.
Leaning his shoulder against the door frame, he watched me. “He was on duty at the zoo. And even then he might have come, but there were several emergencies. Then the wolf cub you got to start eating suddenly took a turn for the worst. He didn’t feel he could leave her.”
My heart thumped with pain as I thought of the small animal. “Poor baby. Is she going to be okay?”
Spencer shrugged, a look of sympathy on his face. “I don’t know. He promised to call when he knew something, one way or another.”
“If he can get through. We usually lose phone service not long after we lose our power.”
“He can always call on the cell.”
“Hopefully.” I forced myself to smile. “Reception isn’t always the best here.”
“Kind of like where I’ve been for the past few days.” He matched my smile then touched my arm. “Aren’t you freezing? What you’re wearing isn’t heavy enough for this weather.”
Although the gift is mine, its secret was Bella’s to share with Spencer, or not. I couldn’t tell him that frigid weather was the least of a werewolf’s worries. “Now that you mention it, it is a bit nippy.”
He chuckled at my lame joke then turned with me toward the door. When we went inside, Bella sat on the hearth, watching the door. “Are you okay?”
I glanced at Spencer, wondering if there was something he hadn’t told me. “I think so. Why? What’s going on?”
“He told me about the wolf pup.”
I sat by her on the hearth. “I’m fine. I just hope Doc doesn’t have to miss Christmas.”
“Are you kidding?” Spencer rested his hand on Bella’s shoulder as casually as if she were an extension of his body. A part of him. “He never misses anything. If he has to work on a special occasion, Mom makes sure somebody takes him dinner and keeps him company.”
I could only hope it wouldn’t be Spencer’s godparent’s daughter.
Glancing around the room, I realized Mom and Dad weren’t there. “The ‘Rents head for bed?” I asked, using the shorthand name we’d teased them with when we were kids.
“Yeah. I think all the firelight and candlesticks got to them. They snuggled on the couch for a few minutes while you two braved the elements then decided to go to bed.” A naughty grin curled Bella’s lips. “Told us we should make pallets here in the living room, since upstairs we’d probably freeze to death. Then they shut the door.”
“Sounds like a Santa thing to me,” I said, referring to Dad’s old excuse for putting us to bed early—so he and Mom could head for theirs on Christmas Eve. I always blamed Christmas lights for stirring up Dad’s libido.
Bella and Spencer chuckled then glanced at one another. I could almost hear their thoughts. What excuse can we use to sneak away?
I didn’t have a wrapped present to give Spencer the next morning, but I had an idea for a gift he’d like better, and that would mean more to him than a new tie or belt—time alone together with Bella.
I feigned a yawn, then leaning close to the firelight, glanced at my watch. “Wow. I can’t believe how tired all that cold air made me. I think I’ll head for bed.”
My words took a moment to register with Bella. Clearly her mind was someplace else. Finally she asked, “What?”
Spencer gazed at me for a moment, gratefulness in his eyes. “Please don’t feel—”
I did my best to look coy, but brazen is more my thing, so I winked at him. “Thought I might try to give Doc a call.”
He tossed my wink back at me, put his arm around Bella and pulled her against him. “That’s a great idea.”
I lit another lamp and said goodnight. After going through the French doors into the frigid air that filled all but the heart of the house, I made my way up the dark stairs. I checked the house phone that sat in its niche in the upstairs hall, but as I’d expected, found it dead. I pulled out my cell, but there was no reception. I walked the length of the corridor, frustration filling me. Still none. I went into my room and Bella’s. Nada.
Finally, in the large, extremely cold room across the hall from mine, I got a tiny bit of signal. Setting down the lamp, I quickly called Doc.
“Hello?”
The static was so bad, I could barely hear him. “Doc?”
“Jazzy?” The noise grew worse, but his voice was like a damper to my exasperation. “—can hear me…a mer—”
I’d lost him.
The quelling of my fiery energy left me almost languid. I picked up the lamp and went to my room where I put on a pair of sweats, unfolded an extra quilt and crawled into bed.
The next morning, the worst of the storm had past. Flakes the size of quarters still fell, but without the ferocity of the night before. I quickly dressed and went downstairs, where I found myself all alone.
In the kitchen I flicked on a light switch but found the power still off, so I got out Grandma’s old enamelware coffee pot, filled it and set it on the stove. Thankfully, Grandma always cooked with gas, but if she hadn’t, I’d have made my brew in the fireplace. Coffee is a necessity of life.
While I waited, I carried wood to the living room and built up the fire. Maybe I could have the room comfortable, and the icicles melted from the tree, by the time the rest of the family got up.
There wasn’t much to do once I had the fire going strong, so I ran back upstairs for Grandma’s journal. I lit my lamp and set it on the dining room table. After pouring a cup of coffee, I read until Mom and Dad got up.
When I heard them stirring, I hurried to my room and packed away the diary. On my way back down, I tapped on Bella’s door. “Merry Christmas.” Then I scooted back to the living room. Whether or not she was alone was TMI—too much information—and none of it mine.
By the time I got back to the living room, Mom and Dad both had mugs of coffee and were all but mainlining it.
“Morning,” Mom murmured, cup at her lips.
Dad gave Mom a startled glance then shrugged. “I’m fine. Or I will be when I have one of those rolls Mrs. Newkirk baked for our breakfast. But no. Your mother—”
Mom made a face. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mark. Go ahead. Eat Christmas breakfast before everyone is down.”
“Everyone should be down by now,” Dad grouched, then glanced at the stairs. “Think I ought to go wake that…”
“I’m sure he’ll be down soon.” No matter what Dad said at this point, Mom would take the opposite side. Good thing he’d had his Christmas Eve last night.
“Good morning.” Bella came into the room, and in a few moments, Spencer followed her.
“Finally.” Dad’s whisper was loud enough for the Newkirks to hear next door.
Mom rolled her eyes. “Come on, guys. There are hot sweet rolls in the warming oven. We’d better eat them before they dry out.”
“How in the world did one of the Newkirks get over here in this snow with hot rolls?”
Mom shrugged. “I don’t question their generosity. I just appreciate it.”
We each took a roll then went back to the dining room table. The spicy sweetness of the rolls struck us dumb, so we ate in silence. I forced myself to quit after the third roll, as did Mom, but Dad, Spencer and Bella had no such compunction. Dad fell out after the next round, and Spencer after the next, but Bella lasted through six.
We all watched in amazement as she all but licked her plate. And when she finally finished, she had syrupy cinnamon on her nose and chin. She glanced at her audience with a shy smile. “Well, that was good.”
I laughed at her. “You’re going to have to wash off a few layers of sugar before we can open presents.”
She flashed me a smirk then with the dignity of a queen, left the room. The rest of us moved into the living room. Dad threw some wood on the fire while we settled in.
We took turns with our presents because Mom believed that the gifter enjoys seeing them opened as much as the giftee enjoys unwrapping them. To put it mildly, our Christmas mornings are known to be drawn out celebrations. That Christmas was no exception.
