by Lacey Silks
“You think the way to balance my life is to touch me?”
“You didn’t have any objections last night.”
“I thought I was dreaming.”
“Whoa! I didn’t know that. I… I thought you wanted me. In fact, you begged for it.”
I begged?
“I did want you.” My hand flew to my mouth. “In my dream. It was a dream.”
“Felt pretty real to me. You played footsie, then grabbed my hand and brought it to your boobs to squeeze them. What was I supposed to think?”
Oh, my God! Did I really do that? I felt my cheeks heat.
“Do you have dreams like that often?” he asked.
Yes.
“No, of course not!”
“Do you know how cute you are when you’re angry? Almost as beautiful as when you come.”
“Dave, what you did was wrong. I wasn’t conscious.”
“You were conscious enough to beg for it.”
“I didn’t.”
“I wish I had a recording.”
“Do you?”
“No, Millie. I was a bit caught off guard when you started rubbing your feet on mine. You know what that means, don’t you? As far as I’m concerned, you knew exactly what you were doing and you were trying to seduce me.”
“What? You have some nerve.”
“And you have a strong grip, sugar.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not sweet.”
“Well, it’s been some time since I tasted you—“
“—Enough! Why didn’t you mention anything this morning?”
“And ruin all the fun while watching you remember?”
“I thought I was dreaming.”
“You know, repeating that doesn’t make it true. When did you switch from sexy lingerie to grandma panties?”
“They’re my sleeping underwear, and they’re comfortable.”
“Are you saying your pretty black lace when we were together wasn’t comfortable?”
My mind drifted to that time in the past. “You’re not allowed to think about me that way.”
“You can try to stay away from me, but you can’t control what I think and whom I fantasize about. So if I want to think about my dick inside you, or my hands combing through your hair as an orgasmic breath leaves your lips, that’s what I’ll do.”
The image he forced into my mind was so vivid part of me wanted it to come true. The door opened right in the middle of our bickering, and Justin peeked outside. Thank my lucky stars he did, because arguments like those between us usually only led to more kissing.
“Are you two done? Because breakfast is getting cold.”
“Almost,” I said and I pulled Justin to me, pressing my lips to his, kissing him hard on his mouth. The look on Dave’s face was priceless. He didn’t know whether to punch his brother or tear me away from him.
I pointed up with pride saying, “It’s tradition.” And with that I walked back inside.
Chapter 4
Okay, so maybe pissing Dave off the day before Christmas wasn’t such a good idea, but as the hours after breakfast passed and we all got to work preparing for that evening’s dinner, his spirit seemed to lift. He helped Parker make popcorn garlands for the Christmas tree. Justin and Mr. Mayers were already on wine glass number I lost count, while Dave chugged on a glass of water. They had this thing where if two of them were drinking, the third one stayed sober — just in case someone needed a driver. It didn’t matter that we were in the mountains and the likelihood of anyone driving anywhere was smaller than a meteorite striking earth. The Mayers men wouldn’t break their rules.
I pushed the cranberry and bread stuffing into the turkey, almost all the way up to my elbows, and saw a chuckle escape from Dave’s mouth across the room. I gave him that look, silently asking whether he’d like to feel me stuff him, but I didn’t say anything, because, well, inappropriate comments and all. I wasn’t sure why a vegetarian would be given this task, but I couldn’t complain. And if they didn’t all try my new quinoa salad with baby tomatoes, chickpeas, and cilantro I’d stuff that down their mouths myself.
The best things about being part of this family were the holidays and that feeling of belonging I’d been searching for my entire life. It was something I’d never had before I came into their lives, but craved more than air. Soon enough the smell of apple pie drifted through the cabin, and we were able to put the bird in. We peeled potatoes, April cooked the frozen pierogies she’d bought, and made red borscht. She still held on to a recipe from her mom. April might have been eight when their mom passed away, but Mrs. Mayers had left a mark on her daughter more permanent than a tattoo.
By early afternoon, all the salads were ready in the fridge, the fish was fried and set in the warming drawer, and the bird was marinating in its juices. Another hour and it would be ready.
And with one audible crack, the Christmas tree lights flicked off, the hum of the oven silenced, and the kitchen lights went out. Dave reached for his back pocket, scrolled through his phone, and frowned.
“The power lines are down.”
“How long do you think it will be?” I asked.
“The last time I looked at my résumé, fortune teller wasn’t on there.”
But asshole was?
“Sorry,” he mumbled. Yeah, Dave was still upset about the kiss I gave Justin that morning.
“Someone should check on Mrs. Bowers.” Mr. Mayers said.
“I thought that grumpy lady died last spring?” I said. Though it would make me sad to hear, I was sure someone would have told me about the funeral. Despite her moody tendencies, she’d always be part of some tender memories. Mrs. Bowers must have been at least a hundred years old. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating, but she definitely resembled a corpse.
“Nasty rumor.”
“Well, I can’t drive, and neither can Dad; so that leaves you, Dave.” Justin raised his glass of wine.
“You can’t send him out there alone. The power’s out and you know how bad the cell phone reception is in the mountains.”
Why was April looking at me? Oh, no. I pursed my lips. “Why don’t you help out your brother, then?”
“I can’t leave Parker.”
“He’s with family – sure you can,” I argued. Why was she still trying to fix me up with her brother?
“Well, I have to get my hair done before this evening, do my nails, and get the garnishes ready.” She walked over to the counter and started wrapping fruitcake before coming toward me. She handed me the package, saying, “Mrs. Bowers loves fruitcake.”
I sighed.
I’m taking fruitcake for the fruitcake.
There was no way she’d give up. And maybe the trip would give me the time I needed to make amends from this morning and apologize for being a bitch to him the past year. Yeah, that would definitely take some time. Christmas wouldn’t feel right if we started off on the wrong foot, with hurtful feelings inside.
“Fine, I’ll go with Dave.”
While probably not happy that my hand had to be nearly broken from the twist for me to agree to be alone with him, I saw his mouth curve slightly. Yes, I was not only being apprehensive of being alone with him, but more so because of where we were about to go. The Bowers property would always be special to both of us, and he knew it as well.
“We shouldn’t be long. A couple of hours tops.”
I was going to argue that Mrs. Bowers lived only fifteen minutes from here but that would mean I’d have to start talking to him right away. Instead, I grabbed my jacket and put on my winter boots. April winked my way before I headed outside, and I only shook my head at her persistence. The day for redemption would come. I could feel it in my bones.
The roads were slick, and Dave’s grip on the steering wheel frightened me. As a cop, he was a very good driver – excellent, actually – and to see him concentrating on the road so hard freaked the shit out of me. I held onto the se
at as he maneuvered through the snow, his knuckles whitening with every small turn he forced the four-wheeler through. The flakes were a good quarter-sized, and the further away we drove the more of them fell from the sky. Half an hour later, way longer than it should have taken us to drive there, we finally pulled up to Mrs. Bowers’ house and knocked on the door.
“Who’s there?”
I pictured a mean old witch behind the door, her gray hair tucked into a messy bun and a pair of tiny glasses falling off her nose.
“It’s Dave and Millie, Mrs. Bowers. We just wanted to check up on you.”
The door opened wide. “Who the hell asked you to?” she barked.
Merry Christmas to you too!
“The power went out and we were worried,” I said as we followed her inside. She didn’t even wait for us, but we already knew she wouldn’t. That’s how it worked with Mrs. Bowers. She’d insult you over and over again for no reason. She was just a grumpy old lady. Taking in her loneliness and sadness, my heart broke for her. When her husband was still alive she used to be so much brighter, and her spirit was like a kind uplift of wind under a plane’s wings just before the perfect landing. Her positive attitude was contagious. We hadn’t known Mr. Bowers for long before he passed; his health was the reason we used to visit the couple in the first place.
Sometimes I thought she was so sad because she’d already lost all her family members and didn’t have anyone. She still had the mind to take care of herself – well, at least most of the time she did – but it must have been lonely living there on her own. You’d think someone like her would be more grateful for visitors. When we came to the family cabin in summertime, stacking her pantry shelves with canned goods so that she wouldn’t have to go get the groceries, she was still an ungrateful little hag. The boys would cut enough wood to last her all winter, and April and I would get the jars ready with pickled tomatoes, red cabbage, and salads. The only person she seemed to tolerate was Parker. She absolutely beamed when Parker came to visit.
Yet something drew me to her. Over the past few years, I’d begun to understand her sadness more and more. Maybe it was the memory of this place and what it meant to me. It felt like ages ago when we used to hang around here all summer long. Being here now, especially with Dave, brought too many emotions to the surface.
“Did you get the generator going, Mrs. Bowers?” I asked.
“Do I look like Einstein to you?”
I laughed. She might have been a sad little lady, but she was definitely a funny one.
“I’ll get it started.” Dave went to the garage, and I added some wood to the fireplace.
“We brought you some fruitcake. It’s in the kitchen.”
“So I can break the teeth I don’t have?” she asked.
“Well, next time I’ll blend it for you into a shake, then.”
She smiled. Oh, my God, what a rare sight that was!
“You remind me of me,” she said.
No, I don’t.
“Why?”
“All feisty and ready to take on the world.”
“Oh, I don’t know. The world is a pretty big place.”
“Well, take it from this old woman. The smallest people can make the biggest difference.”
If I had to bet, I’d say that this was her way of thanking us for coming over.
“So, are you two back together yet?” she asked. I didn’t think she’d remember. She’d lost memories over the years, and it was never clear which ones would remain the next time we met.
“No.” I shook my head.
“You’re a fool, then.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Again, you’re a fool for thinking so.”
“Why? I don’t see a bachelor here for you.”
“Oh, he was here. He’s just six feet under.” Her eyes held true sorrow. “Left me way too early.”
From what I remembered when we were teens, Mr. Bowers was even funnier than she was and they were in love for over sixty years.
“But you’re doing great. I mean, look at you.”
Oh, the lies that could come out of my mouth when there was a need.
“Well, if we’re looking at the same thing, then you’re a good liar, Millie. Since I wasn’t strong enough to bear children, we didn’t have any. Tom left me too early, and now I’m all alone. If I had children, they’d probably be here with me. Take it from me: loneliness isn’t fun.”
“Why don’t you go to a nursing home?”
“And join all the whacks? I haven’t lost all my marbles yet, and I think you’re missing the point I’m trying to make. Besides, Jacques here is better than old smelly people.”
The tabby cat jumped up onto her lap and curled into a ball.
“I have a family,” I said, suddenly feeling her loneliness sink into my bones.
“What happens when Dave gets married?”
My heart broke at those words. Somehow I’d always imagined Dave as a bachelor. He might date and see other women, but I didn’t think he’d ever marry. Was there wisdom in her words? Did she know something I didn’t?
“Justin will, too. And even though April has a kid, she’s bound to find someone as well. What about you? Who are you going to share your life with?”
“Ahm, I’m still young.”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
I’ll get a cat. But could I really see myself like the picture in front of me? Old and gray, sitting in a chair with a cat in my lap?
“Look, it’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is. I remember you two painting my barn in the summer then running around through the wild flower fields, chasing each other, frolicking upstairs in the attic.” She wiggled her thick gray brows.
Oh, the attic! She couldn’t have known about the things we’d done there, could she?
“You loved him so much, and that boy was crazy about you. He still is. If that kind of love can’t last, then the devil has possessed you,” she hissed. “One day you’ll realize it, and it will be too late.”
Chills covered my arms. She then leaned in closer, and I felt like I was listening to some sort of a wicked prophecy of a witch. “And you’ll be old and gray, sitting in a shack few know about, your feet stinking of age because you can’t reach down to wash them yourself, thinking about how your soulmate is sharing someone else’s warm covers. In the daytime, as you stare out the dusted window, you’ll think about him sitting somewhere at a family table listening to his kids tell him about their day; and you’ll think to yourself, I should have listened to that old hag.”
Oh, my God! That wouldn’t be me. That couldn’t be me!
“Make things right before it’s too late, child. Otherwise you’ll end up dying and no one will even know it.”
Dave came inside just in time. I threw a few more pieces of wood into the fireplace and cut the fruitcake into smaller portions, setting a plate near Mrs. Bowers. We wished her a Merry Christmas and even invited her to join us but she refused, of course. We knew she would; she did each time we invited her over. This time, though, she actually said a thank you on our way out.
I couldn’t get out of there soon enough. And worst of all, I couldn’t get her warning message out of my mind.
Chapter 5
“Stop the car,” I said.
“I can’t, sweet pea. If I do, we won’t get it going again.”
“I don’t care, just stop the frickin’ car!”
He put the brakes on. I opened the door and jumped out.
“Millie, what’s the matter with you?”
Dave was out, following me through knee-deep snow. I could barely breathe. Everything had been so clear to me that morning. My path, my fearless life I was happy to go through on my own, my being the strong woman who didn’t need a man in her life, were set and simple. I didn’t need anyone to betray me, hurt me, or disappoint me ever again. I turned around and bumped right into him. The snow was still falling but at a lighter pace.
“Do y
ou think I’m sad?”
“Where’s this coming from?”
“Dave, do you think I’ll end up like Mrs. Bowers? A sad, lonely old witch who has… nobody?”
“You’ll always have me, Millie. And April and Justin. No matter what happened between us, we’ll always be a family.”
Those perfect eyes wouldn’t leave mine. He wouldn’t let go, not this time. They were like the sun, melting my frozen inner core. But I was afraid that wasn’t enough. Yes, at one point in my life that’s what I’d believed, as well: that we’d be one happy family. Unfortunately, things didn’t work out between me and Dave; and now April was stuck with a best friend because I was Parker’s godmother.
I felt my chest tighten and my cheek sting. Was that my conscience slapping me silly, or a cold winter’s gust?
“I won’t have anyone washing my stinky feet.” I felt tears crisp in my eyes. The first one fell and froze on my cheek.
“Millie, stop it. Don’t let her get into your head.”
He took me into his arms and just held me as I cried. I had no one. No parents, at least not the ones I could be proud of or depend on, and no real family. The last link to my blood relative had been broken seven years ago.
“Please, baby. It’s Christmas. You have April and Parker, Justin, and my dad. And you’ll always have me.”
“You’ll get married, and so will Justin and April and I’ll be all on my own.”
“Honey, you’re going to pass out if you don’t stop this panic attack.” His arm kept smoothing gently over my back. “Holidays have a way of bringing out a lot of emotion; you know that better than anyone.”
“I’ll have dirty old stinking feet.”
The air wheezed in and out of my ever tightening lungs.
“Hey.” He lifted my chin with his finger. “How about I promise to come wash your feet whenever you need me to? What do you say?”
I pulled in a sniffle. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course I would. Baby, just please come in the car, and let’s get you warmed up by the fireplace, okay?”
I nodded and followed his guiding arm. It was comfortable and so familiar; it made me realize how much I actually missed him. With a few forward and back sways Dave managed to get the car moving again. When we pulled up to the cabin, candlelight shone through the windows. We’d be having Christmas Eve dinner in the dark tonight.
