Winter Dreams

by Robyn Neeley

  Alice watched Casey cut the steak into bite-sized pieces. “So he still cares for you, does he?”

  Casey hesitated, then opted for telling the truth. “I don’t think so, Granny. At least, not the way he used to.”

  After watching her expectantly a moment, Alice said, “You’re right about one thing. If he doesn’t know the meaning of decency and honor, it isn’t because Jack Johnson didn’t teach him.”

  “True, Granny.”

  Alice focused her attention on grasping her own antique silver fork. “Hopefully, he knows how to behave the way a gentleman should.”

  Casey wondered what on earth Alice was getting at.

  “And just as hopefully,” Alice added in sharp tones, “you remember what I taught you about forgiveness and forbearance.”

  “Yes, Granny.”

  “Although I don’t have much hope of it. If you had, you’d have come home sooner.”

  Casey maintained her calm demeanor with an effort. Five years ago, she went to great lengths to keep her grandparents from knowing how deeply Kalin’s defection had stricken her.

  She smiled. “I didn’t know you missed me so much, Granny.”

  “Mind your tongue, young lady. I don’t like what that precious cooking school of yours has done to you. Why couldn’t you have gotten a job in Houston? You could have lived here.”

  “The best job opportunities in my field are in places like New York.” Casey knew better than to say more.

  “Hummph.” Alice stabbed a bite of steak. “What are you going to do about that young man?”

  “Kalin? Anything between us was over years ago.”

  Casey’s voice didn’t carry the conviction she wanted, and Alice looked her over from the top of her chestnut head to her polished loafers.

  “Try that on my rooster,” Alice recommended. “Well, that’s his lookout, but I can tell you this, Casey Gray. The two of you were good for each other. You had the determination and optimism he needed, and he gave you his imaginative outlook and showed you the beauty of nature. It’s a rare gift when two people are able to give to each other like that. Don’t throw it away lightly.”

  That was all Alice had to say on the subject, for which Casey was grateful. However, Alice had plenty to say on certain other subjects, and Casey soon discovered she’d rather discuss Kalin. Even the old-fashioned Christmas pudding served with a spring of holly didn’t distract Alice.

  Although Casey disliked hearing the things Alice had to say, she listened without protest, knowing Alice’s words were prompted by the older woman’s real love and concern for her granddaughter.

  “When you reach my age,” the old woman said in closing, looking sharply at Casey, “it’s ridiculous to pussyfoot around the subject of death.”

  Casey unlocked the front door to the old farmhouse and thought about what Alice had said. She was concentrating so hard she didn’t immediately notice the living room was occupied.

  A splash of colored light caught her eyes and she looked up, startled, to see a childhood vision rising out of the formerly dark corner of the room, just where she had always imagined it.

  A tall, light-dotted, glittering Christmas tree glowed like a thousand candles in the dark living room. For a moment, she stood and stared in disbelief, before she set her box on the floor and let her feet carry her toward the vision.

  She gazed at the star on top that glowed serenely down on the entire room, and let her eyes drift down the tree. The real fir tree perfumed the air with its scent. The branches were full and fresh. The decorations consisted of cut-out ball ornaments, old-fashioned aluminum icicles, a few wooden ornaments, and a real bird’s nest; all the things she had dreamed of one day putting on her own Christmas tree.

  Even the colored lights, the outmoded large bulbs that never blinked but glowed with deep, steady, comforting splashes of color amid the overall glow, were just what she’d wanted.

  At the bottom of the tree a white cloth flecked with bits of glitter picked up the glowing lights and reflected them back in tiny twinkles of colored brightness. Gaily wrapped packages waited, just the way she’d have placed them, on the tree skirt.

  Casey dropped her purse on the floor and reached out to touch the tip of a branch, crushing it in her fingers. The fresh fir odor reached her nostrils a moment later, and she reaffirmed the tree’s reality by tapping an ornament that had a Nativity scene inside it. It rocked on the branch and held her spellbound.

  All her thought processes shut down. It wasn’t important how the tree had gotten there, in the spot she’d always wanted it. She touched the tree once more and sank down on the floor to sit cross-legged before it.

  The packages beckoned, but Casey had no interest yet in reading the green and red cards attached to each one.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” a voice came from behind her.

  Somehow she wasn’t surprised to find she was not alone. “Thank you, Kalin,” she replied, still touching the tree.

  “I wanted to make you happy.” He knelt on the floor behind her. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “I’m not crying. It’s just … it’s the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen. Prettier even than the one at Dr. Johnson’s. I wish Granny could see it.”

  Kalin’s arms went around her. He sat on the floor behind her and pulled her against him, fitting her snugly between his legs. “You can leave it up until she comes home.”

  “She says she isn’t coming home.” Casey’s voice quivered. “Maybe I can take some pictures.”

  Kalin was silent a moment. “I’ll take some for you.” He kept one arm around her and used the other to tip her head back to rest on his shoulder. “Aren’t you even going to threaten me with arrest for breaking and entering?”

  “Maybe with entering, but surely not breaking. I expect you found the key Granny insists on hiding under the back steps.” She swallowed and nestled her head in the hollow of his shoulder. “I’d have given you the key myself for this. It’s so beautiful. I’ll never be able to thank you.”

  “You’ve already thanked me. Don’t you know that?” He pressed a kiss on the upper curve of her ear. “You used to wish so hard for a Christmas tree. Do you remember telling me all the things you’d put on it? You went into it in such detail I knew it was something that meant a lot to you.” He tightened his hold.

  Casey rubbed her forehead against his neck. “I never bought a tree for my apartment in New York.”

  “You have to start creating your own traditions sometime.” Kalin reached for a package. “You get to open a Christmas Eve present tonight.” He placed a long, slender box in her hands.

  Casey handled it with wonder, turning it this way and that to let the Christmas lights reflect off the shiny, foil wrap. “What are all the others for?”

  As her bemusement began to fade, her heart beat in a new rhythm that sent an intoxicating rush of anticipation roaring through her veins, and it felt full to the bursting point. How much was due to the feel of Kalin’s warmth against her back and how much to the Christmas tree, she could not have said.

  “The Twelve Days of Christmas, what else?” He nuzzled her ear and kissed her temple.

  She counted the twelve remaining packages as well as she could in the half-light created by the colored Christmas lights. “Thank you, Kalin. I don’t know what to say.”

  She swallowed hard, tugging half-heartedly at the ribbon on the small package. Suddenly her mind slipped into gear, and she recalled with relief the item she picked up on a whim in an airport gift shop the day she left New York.

  “Wait a minute. I have something for you.” She struggled out of his hold and got to her feet.

  When she returned to the living room, Kalin sat on the sofa and had laid the small package on the coffee table. She held out the shoe-box-sized pack
age she’d wrapped in red paper.

  Kalin pulled her to the sofa beside him and placed the small package in her hands once more. “Open yours first.”

  She switched on the table lamp beside them and admired the package. It had been professionally wrapped in silver foil. Excitement, fear, and longing all warred within her, and she scarcely knew which would win out.

  “Open it.” Kalin nudged her hand gently.

  She pried at the tape securing one end of the package, eventually pulling out a long, slim box, which in turn contained a jeweler’s case.

  “If this is a diamond bracelet … ” She lifted the lid.

  “My diamond bracelet days are long since over.” He chuckled softly against her hair. “I’m a starving author now.”

  He took the case from her strangely reluctant hands and opened it, lifting out a watch.

  She saw the half-circle at the top of the dial that contained either a sun or a moon, depending on the time of day, and her heart contracted with pleasure.

  “Oh, Kalin, thank you. It’s even prettier than my first one.”

  Kalin lifted her left wrist, kissed it, and fastened the watch on it. “I don’t care if it falls in the étouffée. I want to see you wearing it.”

  She promised he would. “Open yours.”

  He made short work of the wrapping and extracted what looked like a mallard duck decoy.

  “It’s a telephone,” Casey said, in case he missed that fact.

  Kalin’s expression remained bland. “I see that.” He turned the duck upside down and examined it.

  “It’s a life-like replica of a male mallard.”

  “I can see it’s a greenhead.” Kalin carefully turned the entire sculpture in his hands. “Is this some sort of revenge for making you learn to dress ducks?”

  “You don’t like it,” Casey said, hurt. “It even quacks instead of ringing.”

  He set the duck on the coffee table. “Come here. I’ll show you how I like it.” He pulled her against his side.

  “You hate it.” She shoved at him.

  “I almost bought one myself last year.” Kalin laughed and rubbed his nose against hers.

  Casey concentrated on the eyes that smiled into hers. She put up a hand to touch his face and trace the broad band of black above one of those brilliant eyes.

  “Kalin, I — ” She broke off and let her fingers run off his brow and into his hair.

  “Darling, you don’t have to say anything. Don’t cry.”

  She smiled. “Do you know, when I was in high school, I used to sit in class and fantasize about the way your hair felt, and the way your skin felt, and how you smelled when we were on a date as opposed to when you’d just returned from a two-day duck hunt.”

  Kalin interrupted by biting gently at her bottom lip. “Don’t waste time fantasizing about it, darling. Here I am.”

  His chest moved with silent laughter as he nibbled at her lips. She closed her fingers in his hair and tugged.

  “Stop laughing,” she commanded.

  “I smell very nice, don’t I? You’re the one who caught all the fish.” He sniffed her neck. “Yep. Eau-de-bass.”

  “You’re the one who handled them.”

  Choking with laughter, they mock-wrestled one another until Kalin trapped both Casey’s wrists. He pinned them behind her. For a long moment, they stared, gray eyes into blue, then Kalin reached for the lamp switch. The room fell into darkness except for the multi-colored lights on the Christmas tree.

  “Here I am, Casey. Smell me, taste me, feel me. Anything you like. I’ll try not to embarrass you.”

  She had no idea what he meant by that, but she found his invitation too tempting to refuse. If she went too far for him, he could stop her, couldn’t he? She leaned forward. She might never get this chance again.

  With the lamp off, the Christmas lights reflected from his eyes and highlighted the planes of his face in a pale, red glow. His lips met hers, slightly open, and she readily parted her own and touched his tongue with hers, an invitation he had no hesitation in answering.

  Kalin slanted his head to the side and fitted his body against hers, skillfully manipulating their positions so that they could stretch out together on the sofa. He let go of her wrists and ran both his hands down her sides, examining the way her waist curved in and her hips flared.

  “You feel so good.” He urged her closer.

  Casey deliberately entangled her fingers in the top button of his shirt. He didn’t protest, even when she casually moved down his shirt, unbuttoning each button as she went. The thick hair covering his chest called to her, and she speared her fingers through it luxuriously. Her nails raked lightly over his nipples and his breathing quickened, but he didn’t stop her.

  Emboldened, Casey scooted down to kiss his chest, enjoying the rich aftershave that reminded her of green forests. Kalin’s hands locked in her hair, massaging her scalp as he held her against him.

  Casey stroked her tongue over each of his flat nipples and felt rewarded when he groaned and rolled to his back so she could torment him with her wildly stroking tongue. Kalin shuddered and groaned and invited her to do it some more.

  Since he seemed so responsive to that, she moved up his body to kiss his mouth. At once, his arms went around her like steel bands, locking her there while he kissed her with satisfying desperation. She kissed him several more times, then stroked her hand down his chest for good measure. Kalin groaned her name and begged her not to stop.

  The muscles in his arms and chest grew hard and quivered, and when she smoothed her hand across his stomach, the effect was electrifying. His fingers dug into her shoulders. He breathed rapidly, and every other breath was a groan of pleasure with each new way she found to touch him. His pleasure fueled her own, and she found as much enjoyment in her explorations as he did.

  She drew back slightly to observe the results of her gentle teasing and saw his eyes slit open to stare back at her. His cheeks flushed, and his eyes glowed in the semi-darkness like dark sapphires.

  “Casey?”

  She smiled. “You look thoroughly debauched.”

  “Do I? That’s because you’re so thorough.” He reached up to frame her face with his hands. “Do you think you could kiss me some more?”

  She stretched out beside him in answer to his request and kissed him deeply. Kalin shuddered and encouraged her with his response to kiss him again and again. She smoothed her hands over his chest while she kissed him and gloried in the way he groaned and called her name.

  When her fingers closed over the zipper of his jeans, his hand covered hers. “Are you sure you want this?”

  Casey fought to ignore the chill that settled in her heart. “Granny said I should find out what’s holding you back from making love to me now that there’s nothing to stop you.”

  “She did, did she? I’d hate to hear what your grandfather would say to that.” He held her close, still breathing hard.

  “Well? What is holding you back?”

  Kalin laughed breathlessly and buried his nose against her neck. “Precious little. Don’t tempt me.”

  “Why not? I used to love to tempt you. You used to love being tempted.” Casey let her fingers wander down his chest once more.

  Kalin drew in a shaky breath. “You’re just as wanton as you ever were.”

  The words were spoken in jest, but they fell on Casey’s ears with the effect of a chilling arctic blast, withering her desire as if it had never flowered. She curled her fingers into her palm.

  Kalin appeared unaware of her withdrawal. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” He blew a lock of her hair off her brow. “One of my few cases is coming to trial the day after Christmas, and I’ll have to go back to Houston. How about coming over and sitting in the courtroom with me?”
<
br />   “I don’t think so, Kalin.”

  Something about her voice attracted his attention. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, thank you. What’s your trial about?”

  “Don’t do the polite bit on me, when it’s obvious I’ve said or done something. Whatever it was, I didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it.”

  Casey studied the way the Christmas lights reflected off the planes of his face. “I don’t like being called wanton when all I wanted was to kiss you and touch you.”

  Kalin lay in silence a moment, absently stroking his hands down her sides. He pulled her closer and cradled her head on his shoulder and combed his fingers through her hair.

  He sighed. “If it means anything at all to you, I respond to you exactly the same way you respond to me. All you have to do is touch me, and I’m ready to take you to bed.”

  “Is that what you were trying to prove? If you want to practice bedroom psychology, pick another victim.”

  He prevented her movement to roll to a sitting position. “The last thing you are is a victim, Casey Gray. You’ve allowed a lot of nonsense I said while I was angry to affect your entire outlook. What I want to know is why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why has it affected you like this? You would hardly look me in the face at Merrick’s party the other night. It was pretty obvious that you’d rather have faced an axe murderer than me.”

  Casey swallowed hard. His hands held her face tilted so he could look into her eyes.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Will you please let me up?”

  “It goes back to your mother and how you perceived her behavior. Or how your grandmother perceived her behavior.”

  She pushed away from him.

  “Have you ever talked with your grandmother about it?”

  “Granny doesn’t even mention my mother’s name if she can help it, and I don’t care to retard her recovery by forcing her to discuss something she’s made it clear is off-limits.”

  “Casey.” He tapped her cheek lightly with his forefinger until she looked up and met his eyes. “You need to talk to someone about it. I’m always here for you.”