Since then, the dreams were not as vivid, but they frightened Ruby enough to crawl into Odessa’s bed.
“Is your night light working?”
“He unplugged it,” Ruby said.
“The bulb probably burned out.” No nefarious mischief necessary. “Go to sleep and I’ll fix it in the morning,” Odessa said.
“Can you sing me a song?” she asked, voice already drowsy.
The only thing that came to mind was a Corinne Bailey Rae song from way back. Amazingly, she remembered most of the words. Well, the chorus. She repeated that a few times before Ruby drifted off.
Chapter 8
Odessa
“Set the cheese plate out on the table, please, Ruby,” Odessa said, her attention focused on wrapping brie in puff pastry. The recipe she found on the internet looked fancy as all get out but seemed easy until she tried to cut out leaves to decorate the top. The leaves looked sad, too thin and narrow, but she didn’t have enough dough to try again.
“Why is the cheese red? It looks gross. And smells gross.” Ruby poked the sliced Wensleydale, then stuffed a cracker in her mouth. “I don’t like it.”
“It has cranberries in it.”
“Ew.” Ruby wrinkled her nose.
“It’s sweet and fruity with honey undertones,” Odessa said. At least that’s what the wrapper said. She grabbed a wedge when it arrived at the store earlier in the week.
“Mom, you’re being weird about food again.”
“Just bring it out, okay? You don’t have to try it but don’t say it’s gross until you do try it,” Odessa said. Ruby had to pick today to be obstinate. It’s like her child enjoyed acting out in front of Odessa’s parents, just to make her look bad.
That wasn’t true. She still felt rattled from yesterday and the heat of the kitchen compounded her headache. A sense of dread and not being alone in the house woke her that morning. She grabbed the baseball bat at her bedside—don’t judge, a girl needs easy access to her pummeling equipment—and eased out the bedroom door into the hall. Her heart pounded while she tried to listen for anything out of the ordinary, but she couldn’t hear anything other than the wind and the tapping of tree branches against the windows. With her day starting on that rough note, her temper frayed, and everything just felt like poking a grumpy bear with a stick.
She wanted to reach out a paw, grab that stick, and maybe commit a little mauling.
“I like string cheese,” Ruby whined. “Why do we have to be fancy?”
Odessa held her tongue because snapping at her kid was the opposite of helping.
“You know, that’s an excellent point,” Patricia said, sensing the need to intervene with her granddaughter’s mood. She finished loading the dishwasher and started the cycle. “Why don’t you put some string cheese on the plate, Ruby?”
Her daughter pulled out a handful of individually wrapped string cheese and shoved it on the carefully arranged cheese plate. Ruby took it out of the kitchen, proudly announcing that she helped.
“You have a temper today,” Patricia said.
Odessa focused on finishing the brie. What did her mother expect her to say? Agree that she was cranky and needed a nap?
A nap sounded so good, actually.
“Hey, Mommy, I wanna decorate the tree. It looks stupid,” Ruby called from the living room.
“Watch your mouth, goblin,” Odessa said. The undecorated tree sat in the corner of the living room, waiting for ornaments and tinsel. “We’ll decorate tomorrow. The Ministry of Christmas says the first day you can put up the tree is the day after Thanksgiving.”
“I don’t think there is a mini-tree of Christmas.” Ruby strolled into the kitchen, chewing on a stick of string cheese. “I think you’re pulling my leg.”
“Oh, do you? Ask your grandpa when he gets here.” The Ministry of Christmas was a tall tale her parents used as an excuse for why their tree went up late or they never played holiday music at home until after Thanksgiving. As an adult who worked retail, she completely understood the need for the holiday to be contained and resist the creeping of Christmas music and decorations in the stores before Halloween. As a kid, though, she had grown so excited at the first glimpse of candy canes and tinsel.
“Don’t worry. I fixed the tree. It’s not so stupid now.”
“I don’t like you saying that word, goblin. What’s a better word to use?”
“Fine, the tree is silly.” Ruby rolled her eyes. No need to wonder where she picked up that habit.
Typical Thanksgiving morning. Odessa spent last night baking rolls from scratch and that morning peeling and chopping vegetables for the sides. In past years, her parents hosted. The Beckers—Ruby’s other grandparents—spent the day with their daughter and grandkids in Boise.
Thanksgiving had always been just the four of them. Her mom cooked up a storm and Odessa arrived early to help with peeling, chopping, and anything else Patricia needed an extra set of hands for. Unfortunately, aging plumbing put their kitchen out of commission this holiday while repairs were made. The work—new plumbing and a new floor—should be finished by Christmas, which meant Patricia and Gerald arrived at her house slightly after the crack of dawn that morning.
Ruby buzzed with excitement and, honestly, so did Odessa. She never had a chance to entertain and couldn’t wait to try the sage, sausage, and apple stuffing recipe she found online. She wanted to feed good food to the people she loved and have a nice day. Simple goals.
So far, she’d been run off her feet and the kitchen felt like a sauna with the oven running since dawn, even with the windows opened. She needed a shower and a minute to catch her breath.
Or that nap.
At least she got Ruby to eat something that looked like a proper breakfast—a bowl of oatmeal with half a sliced banana. Usually getting that kid to eat when she was excited was a battle but the novelty of having breakfast with Grandma and Grandpa won out.
The knock sounded at the door, moments before opening. “Grandpa’s back!” Ruby shouted. “Grandpa! Michigan!”
Her parents brought their dog and Gerald took Michigan out for a walk. Michigan was a well-behaved dog, generally, but tended to be underfoot in the kitchen. At seventy pounds, the black lab mix could do serious damage with her constantly wagging tail.
“Dessa? Where do you want the pies?” Gerald appeared in the doorway, carrying a shopping bag filled with several varieties.
“I told you to bring a dessert,” Odessa said, turning to her mother.
“I did.”
“A pie, Mom. A single pie.” Her mother always brought too much food. Why bring one pumpkin pie when you could have sweet potato, pecan, and apple?
“Because we need one in every flavor, honey,” Patricia said, echoing Odessa’s thoughts. “Life would be so boring if we only had one pie.”
“And who is going to eat all this? There’s four of us, not an army.” Odessa turned her attention back to the oven. The brie was browning nicely.
“I invited Mads. He’s a growing boy. I’m sure he can eat an entire pie all by himself.”
“You did not invite that man.” Odessa grabbed a towel and wiped down the counter.
“Don’t take that tone with your mother,” Gerald said, unloading the surplus pies onto the kitchen table.
“This is my house and I get to have a say in who is invited to sit at my table and eat my food.”
The doorbell rang, cutting off what Gerald was about to say. Odessa swallowed her desire to argue with her father. She paid rent and was a grown woman who should be able to control who came and went into her home, but whatever. Autonomy? Who needed that when she had parents who thought they knew better?
Odessa took a deep breath. Picking a fight wouldn’t help anyone. She grabbed a stack of dishes from the cupboard and shoved them at Gerald. “Be useful and set the table.”
“Why is it cold in here? You’re not having trouble paying the heating bill, are you?” Gerald abandoned the dishes and opened th
e door to the basement stairs.
“Yes, I pay my bills, Dad.” Odessa rolled her eyes, desperately wishing she had been able to utter that phrase and avoid sounding like a brat. “It’s warm in the kitchen.”
“I’ll just go take a look.” He vanished down the basement steps.
“I pay my bills, honestly,” Odessa said, turning to her mother for support.
Patricia lifted the towel covering the basket of rolls and grabbed one. “Be nice, honey. Your father means well,” she said, chewing around a mouthful.
“No, he doesn’t. He acts like I’m still a kid he can boss around.” Yup, she was back to sounding like a brat, but she would embrace it. “And you’re not so innocent either.”
“Me?”
“I don’t appreciate your matchmaking.”
“I’m not matchmaking,” Patricia said.
“And now you’re lying.” Standing in her kitchen, eating the rolls Odessa put in the oven at seven o’clock that morning and—
“The rolls are dry, honey.”
“Argh! Get out.” So much for a peaceful holiday. Surely Patricia knew about the blowout Odessa had with Mads at the store. Patricia and Gerald had their network of spies and knew everything that happened in her life, usually before she did. It was annoying but predictable. “I just want to eat too much food with my family. I don’t appreciate you inviting strays.” That move was manipulative at best and Odessa chafed at anyone telling her what to do; she always had.
“I should go.” Mads stood in the door, holding a bottle of wine.
Well, fuck.
Shame at being caught mid-temper tantrum rushed over her but she owed him nothing. She stubbornly lifted her chin.
He looked good; too good in faded jeans and a slim-fitting V-neck sweater over a white button-down shirt. The navy blue of the sweater brought out the warmth in his eyes.
Mouthwatering, that’s what he was. Who wouldn’t want such a morsel at their dinner table?
Odessa brushed flour dust off the front of her worn T-shirt, acutely aware that she had her lank hair back in a sloppy ponytail, her legs needed shaving, and the red polish on her toenails had mostly flaked away.
“No, Mads, honey,” Patricia said, taking the bottle. She turned to Odessa. “Why don’t I finish up in here and you go take a shower?”
Odessa looked around, searching for a reason to refuse. “Fine. Everything is ready and keeping warm. The turkey needs to be carved, then we can eat.”
“Mommy! Michigan ate the stinky cheese,” Ruby screamed from the living room.
True to her word, the entire plate of cheese was gone, along with the crackers. The string cheese had been spared. Michigan stood with her head bowed, looking ashamed but still licking her chops.
“What happened?” Odessa asked.
Ruby shrugged a shoulder. “I dunno. I went to help Grandpa and the cheese was gone.”
“You were supposed to put the cheese on the table.”
“I did.” Ruby pointed to the empty coffee table.
“The dinner table, goblin.” Odessa couldn’t decide if Ruby misplaced the cheese on purpose or if she had honestly misunderstood. Either way, the empty plate was the natural outcome of a perpetually hungry dog and an unsupervised appetizer.
She rubbed her forehead, slightly grossed out by how greasy her skin felt. At least the dog didn’t eat the wrapped string cheese. She did not want to know what the plastic wrappers would do to a dog’s digestive system.
“Mommy’s getting a headache. Her eye is jumping around,” Ruby said.
Odessa pressed two fingers under her left eye. Sure enough, she felt the unwanted twitching that happened when she got stressed.
“I’ll take care of this,” Mads said, grabbing the dog by the collar and leading her to the backdoor. “You should rest.”
“That’s a good idea. Take a shower and lie down,” Patricia said, pushing Odessa toward the stairs.
“But dinner—”
“Will be here when you feel better.”
“It’s just a headache,” Odessa said, already giving in. She’d feel better after a hot shower and a change of clothes.
Mads
Uninvited.
Unwanted.
Mads watched from the back porch while the dog snuffled along the ground.
While walking his dog, Gerald had cornered Mads and invited him to dinner. He had not been trying for an invitation and sensed that to refuse would have been rude, so he accepted.
He saw now that the correct action would have been to politely decline.
His mate ignored the gift he brought. Stress and exhaustion radiated from her, tainting the atmosphere of the house. He wanted nothing more than to ease her burdens but knew she would reject his offer to assist. She had also grown angry at his invitation to dinner. The two rejections told him that she had moved on and no longer had a place for him in her heart.
He wanted to pursue her, to chase her to the brink of their endurance. It was a primitive response when courting. No doubt his father would sneer, call it degeneracy, and pin the blame on courting an uncivilized human. Meanwhile, Odessa would call his behavior stalking.
He ran his hand up the back of his head in frustration.
Stalking would drive her away. He knew that. He knew better. She wanted space. He had to give her that.
Perhaps he should resign himself to an existence without his mate. What kind of future did he offer? If they returned to Reilen, she would be viewed, at best, as simplistic and child-like. At worst, she would be little more than a pet and he would be the deviant that mated the family pet. They would have to remain on Earth, him a fugitive and Odessa hidden like a shameful secret.
He rejected the thought. There was nothing shameful about his love for Odessa. The only shame came from how he accidentally initiated the mate bond then slinked off-planet.
He worked too hard to return to Earth to give up so easily.
The evergreen in the corner of the living room proudly displayed his first gift, the cut-glass star ornament and remained otherwise bare. His gift was the only one worth displaying. That gave him hope.
Odessa wanted an explanation. His apology alone had not been enough. He wanted to tell her everything, to lay his heart bare and confess how he fought his father, how he suffered in the education camps where the authorities tried to break the mating bond, and how he spent every day in the last ten years counting down until the moment he could return.
Those words could never leave his lips. Mads rubbed the star-shaped scar at the base of his skull.
If he could not tell her, then he could show her.
If she ever stopped running away.
The door opened and the dog dashed to the calf, dancing around her with excitement. Her red curls sprouted in every direction and she laughed with glee as she accepted the puppy kisses. She then threw a ball. The dog chased.
Ruby’s aura had the same golden cast as her mother’s. Mads enjoyed watching the colors of joy and enthusiasm shift through her aura.
“My mommy doesn’t like you,” the calf said.
“No, I don’t think she does.”
The dog returned and dropped the ball at Ruby’s feet. She tossed it and the dog gave happy chase.
“Why?” she asked.
“We used to be friends. Sometimes you get mad at your friends.” Sometimes you fall in love with your friend and keep secrets from them to protect them, but you end up hurting them.
“That’s dumb. Mommy doesn’t get mad unless you did something bad.”
“Rest assured, she is justified in her dislike.”
The dog returned and dropped the ball at his feet. He ignored the pleading eyes. The dog nosed the ball and whined. With a sigh, he threw the ball and the dog took off so fast she nearly flipped over in excitement.
“Have you told Mommy that you’re sorry and won’t do it again?”
He shook his head. “I have not.”
“That’s dumb, too.” Her tone
implied that she thought Mads particularly lacking. “Aren’t you cold?”
“I like the cold.”
“Mommy’s mad at Grandma too. Called her an ‘interfering old woman.’” Ruby’s voice deepened as she mimicked her mother.
Mads pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh. “Do you think that if I apologize, she’ll forgive me?”
Ruby nodded, her curls bounced with the force of her zeal. “One time, Mommy and me were painting our nails and I spilled the bottle and it went all over the kitchen table. I told her I didn’t mean to and she wasn’t upset.” She smiled brightly. “You should do that.”
“Thank you for the sage wisdom.” He did not place much hope in a simple apology, but it was a good place to start.
Odessa
This freaking day. Her parents weren’t normally so… extra. They were supportive and adored Ruby but when they thought they knew best, they went into smother mode.
The hot shower worked wonders on the tension in her shoulders and neck. She took two over-the-counter pain relievers, dressed in comfy black leggings and an oversized green sweater, and went to lay down on the bed, just until the dizziness passed. Stress rarely made her fall apart—she managed a grocery store, for crying out loud—but today hit all her buttons. The combination of a headache, lack of sleep, the sweltering heat—how was the rest of the house so cold when the kitchen was a furnace?—and the noise from too many people demanding her attention packed a punch.
And Mads got to see her in all her sweaty, grungy glory. Delightful.
Not that she cared what he thought of her, because she didn’t.
A knock sounded at the door. Odessa adjusted the damp washcloth over her brow. “Come in.”
“I brought you a plate,” Patricia said.
“Thanks.” Odessa sat up in bed, not feeling particularly hungry but food might help. She accepted the plate and popped a small piece of turkey in her mouth, suddenly ravenous.
The Alien Reindeer’s Bounty (A Winter Starr Book 6) Page 7
