Christmas Lights: An Owatonna Christmas Novella

by RJ Scott

  “Coach maybe? Like Dad?” I said in simple terms. “Find a team close to here and do that.” I glanced up at Jacob, who was focusing very hard on me. “We can build that house we talked about, Jacob, the one with the pond and the hot tub, and then all you guys can come visit us at Christmas and in the summer.” I waited for Jacob to agree, but he changed the subject.

  “What about you, Ben? What will you do?”

  Ben glanced at Ethan. “Travel all over Canada, to all the tiny nooks and crannies, all the way up to the ice, and over to Vancouver Island, see some bears on Prince Rupert Island.” He seemed to be looking for something from Ethan. “Adopt some kids, make a family.”

  Mine sounded kind of lame against that. Of course I wanted a family, kids, adoption or surrogacy, or whatever we could do. But between us, Jacob and I would make a permanent future, and if that was here in Minnesota, then I could go with that because there was no way I was spending years on the road with hockey to then be away from Jacob after that. I wondered if he knew how much I loved him and how long I saw us together and also whether he felt the same way. I knew he hated that we were apart, but he had his whole life on his family’s farm ahead of him, and maybe he thought I wouldn’t want that or that a coaching career wouldn’t fit in with that.

  “We could have some kids here, don’t you think, Jacob,” I began. “We could teach them to skate on the pond. I could coach them, and we can extend the house to add a wing or two. I just need a good contract offer, six years, maybe four mill or five a year, and we’d have the money to make a good life for a whole team of kids, actually probably more money than we need if we’re careful.”

  Jacob’s eyes widened, and he coughed, and I genuinely think I caught him off guard. “Extending the house, kids, coaching, okay, then.” He pulled me close and hugged me tight, and I loved the way he held me, as if he was never going to let me go.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you right back,” he replied, and his expression was so intense and focused, and for a moment I thought he was going to say something profound, and then Scott snorted a laugh.

  “I’m going to take up baseball and play for the Nats,” he announced, and the ramped-up emotion in the room dissipated immediately. “But meanwhile, can we watch the freaking film?”

  I wriggled back into Jacob’s arms, and he leaned his chin on my head, and for a few moments, we watched the action on the screen, but I couldn’t sit still.

  “Sorry,” I whispered and glanced up at him, catching his thoughtful expression.

  “What for?”

  “For mapping out our entire lives with kids and room extensions and money.” Money was a sore subject between us, particularly because he wouldn’t let me help pay for his dad’s operation, but I’d learned that pride and Jacob were so closely entwined it was difficult to separate them.

  “I liked you mapping things out,” he said after a moment’s pause where I imagined every kind of worst-case scenario. “You know that for me, what we have is forever, right?”

  “Back at ya,” I said and snuggled into him. “I could stay here all day with you. We wouldn’t have to move at all.”

  “What about food?”

  “Someone will feed us eventually, and we may even get beer as well.”

  “And the bathroom?”

  He had a point. “We could have five minutes where we both use it and then come straight back to this chair.”

  “And showers?”

  “You’re overthinking this—”

  “And the cows, you have to remember the cows.” He was laughing now. I could hear it in his voice.

  “We’d invent a machine that did everything for us, took care of the cows, moved the hay and whatnot, and did everything else you do.”

  He snorted a laugh then. “NHL star invents automated farmer, I can see the headlines now.” He waved a hand in the air, imagining the title of the news report, and I struck a pose, trying to look completely serious, and when that didn’t work, I stole Scott’s glasses from his face and put them on.

  “Do I look serious enough to invent a robot farmer?”

  “Give them back, asshole,” Scott interjected and flailed to get them off me, but Jacob held him off and kissed me soundly before finally handing them back.

  Then he cradled my face in his hands.

  “Do you think we can step outside?”

  Chapter 8

  Jacob

  The Minnesota winter met us at the door. The air was so cold it felt as if it could snap like peanut brittle. Ryker shuddered the moment his flesh—which had become accustomed to desert heat—felt the cold still air moving over it.

  “I hope we’re not going to be out here too long,” he said, wrapping his arms around his middle.

  “No, not too long.” I stepped up beside him, draped my arm around his shoulder, and tugged him into my side. “Better?”

  “Mm, yeah. You’re like a big Bunsen burner.” His curls rested on my shoulder as we gazed out at the pond, the soft glow of the moon making the thousands of skate slices show up in stark relief to the darkness of the frozen water below. I pulled my gaze from the pond and peeked at my man. Mom’s lights glowed brightly, lighting Ryker’s curls in shades of red, yellow, blue, and green. I buried my nose into his hair, just for a second, to get my thoughts in line.

  I’d gone over this moment so often in my mind, but things had been different in my fantasies. Better. I’d had his ring for one thing. No one else had been around for another. The sounds of our friends now arguing over what to watch next, Big Trouble in Little China or Remo Williams, leached through the old door. Our future house was under construction in my fantasy proposal and the farm was thriving. Yeah, a fantasy for sure. Reality sucked.

  “I loved the way we OU Eagles boys are making our families come to life. Sure they might be unconventional families, but they’re families all the same,” Ryker said as I sniffed his hair and daydreamed of the life I so wanted to give him. He lifted his head to peer at me.

  “Yeah, families and futures. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about…”

  “I’m sorry if I put you into a scenario that you didn’t want to be in or even think about yet. Kids, dogs, that kind of thing.”

  There were so many things I wanted to say. None of them seemed adequate. “No, your dreams are perfect. Really.” I released him slightly, just enough so that I could face him, my hands resting on his sweet, high ass, his fingers up by my ears. I looked down on him, his chin up, eyes sparkling, Mom’s Christmas lights glowing on his face, and my words got jumbled up. “I’ve had dreams too. Every single one involved you. There’s not a future scenario of my life that doesn’t include you.” He smiled softly, his fingers playing with the fine hairs on the back of my neck. “I had this all planned out, but life kind of tromped all over my carefully detailed designs.”

  “Dad says something about the best-laid plans of mice and men often going awry.”

  “Your dad quotes Robert Frost in one breath and Herb Brooks in the next. He’s awesome.”

  “Yeah, he really kind of is.” He rose up to kiss my stubbly chin. “So is this going anywhere, or are we just out here to see whose balls crinkle up in the cold first?”

  That made me smile. He made me smile. And laugh. And cry. And love. Fuck, so much love.

  “There’s a purpose, just chill.”

  “If I got any more chill, I’d be a snowman.”

  “You’d be the cutest snowman ever.” I dropped a kiss to his brow. “I just… there’s so much I had planned out, you know me. I dislike not having things ready ahead of time. But things have gone… well, not right. And while I hoped this moment would be different, better for you, I guess I have to admit to myself that I might not ever be able to give you the best in life. I love you so much, Ryker, and I want you to be my husband, but I’m not sure that I’m the best choice for a spouse.”

  “Whoa, slow down, back up.” His light brown eyes rounded. “Did you jus
t ask me to marry you, then tell me that you’re not good enough to marry me all in the same breath?”

  “Yeah, well, no.” His eyebrows beetled. “Okay, yes, mostly I was giving you an out. Nothing is going the way I planned, Ry. I’d hoped to have our home all laid out, maybe even the basement in before snow fell, but there was no money. I’d hoped to have a ring for you, and I did, but there was no money for the tractor, so I sold it. I’d hoped for so much for us, for you, but now there’s nothing. There’s nothing but my mother’s ring, and that’s not really suited for a dude. I’ve got nothing to offer you. Why are you even here with me?”

  “Okay, first of all, stop it. Second, where’s the ring?”

  “In my wallet. I’m kind of embarrassed to—”

  “Dude, so lame. You ask me to marry you, and you don’t even show me my ring?”

  “Ryker, it’s my mother’s ring. She took it off this morning and told me to give it to you. Your ring, the good one, the expensive one, I had to sell off to—”

  He went to his toes, his lips covering mine. I stiffened at first but then slowly melted into the kiss, my hands roaming up and down his back as he licked into my mouth, his fingers tight to my skull.

  “You’re such a rockhead at times,” he gently scolded when the kiss broke. “How many times do I have to tell you that all I need is you? Now, show me my damn ring, or I will throw your big ass out into the snow and take it.”

  I had nothing sensible to say, not a damn thing. I reached back, pulled out my wallet, and opened it gently, fishing the thin white gold band out with my pinkie. Ryker’s eyes lit up as if he’d been handed the Hope diamond.

  “Okay wow, that’s so pretty with the Christmas lights shining on it.” He slipped free of my arms and held up his left hand. It was shaking. “Put it on me.”

  “It’s not going to fit.” I felt foolish again, but he shook his head, curls bouncing, so strong was his head movement.

  “Don’t care if it fits or not. I want you to slide it onto my ring finger as far as it will go. And I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that—”

  “That I love you more than anything on this planet. That you’re my life and love. That I hope I can make you happy and that I want to know if you’ll marry me? Did that cover it all?”

  “Yes. Ring, please.” He wiggled his fingers. So I slipped the borrowed ring onto his ring finger. It went to the first knuckle. “I’ve dreamed of this moment forever.” He looked up from his hand to me. “I would love to marry you.”

  I gathered him up for a kiss that went on and on and on and on. “I’ll get you your own ring back, I swear.” That was a promise I intended to keep, no matter what. I’d sell off my truck if I had to; didn’t matter. Ryker’s ring belonged on Ryker’s finger. But for now, Mom’s ring and Mom’s lights seemed to have been enough to make it official. Ryker was mine now, and I was his, and the future seemed just a little brighter than it had this morning, so I kissed him again just because I loved him so damn much. We kept kissing until the guys rolled out onto the porch, yelling their congratulations as they hugged and slapped our backs. Okay, yeah, maybe life would all work out just as Ryker had dreamed it would. It was Christmas after all.

  We were at the airport before dawn the next day saying good-bye to Ben, Ethan, Scott, and Hayne. There had been promises made to do this again, and then of course there were weddings to attend in the future. Ben and Ethan’s was this summer, so we’d for sure meet up in Canada for that if we couldn’t find the time beforehand. We hugged and kissed cheeks and poked fun at each other.

  Fingers meshed, Ryker and I stood inside and watched our friends take off. I glanced over at my fiancé, who was still half-asleep by the looks of it. A soft red ember of love and want unfurled inside me. He’d taken my mother’s ring and placed it on the necklace he wore around his neck, something his baby sisters had given him last Christmas, with crossed hockey sticks. Seeing that ring lying against his skin moved me in ways I’d never imagined. I led him outside and to my truck, kissing him into a stupor before we rattled toward home. Mom had insisted we come for a big holiday breakfast today, even though the holiday was now over. Ryker napped on the way home, his head bobbing as I softly sang along to some Brooks & Dunn.

  We’d no sooner pulled up when Mom appeared on the front porch, her hands clasped as we slid from the cab and made our way to her.

  “Welcome to the family,” she gushed, throwing her arms around Ryker. She sniffled a bit as she clung to him. Ry patted her back, grinning awkwardly at me. Finally, she released him and grabbed me for several kisses to each cheek. “We’re both so thrilled for you boys. Come on inside. I made a big breakfast. Your father and I have a few things we’d like to discuss with you.”

  Taking Ryker’s coat, I paused long enough to hang mine and his in the closet by the front door, then bent down to untie my Redwings. Ryker had kicked off his sneakers and was in the kitchen, shaking hands with my father when I showed up. Both men smiled at me. Dad limped over, gave me a brief hug, and then waved at the buffet my mother had made. Eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, coffee, and big homemade cinnamon buns for dessert. Breakfast dessert. Could be a new trend.

  We sat down and dug in after Dad said a quick grace. When everyone had full plates and steaming mugs of freshly brewed coffee, my parents gave us both a look. It was the parent look. The one that said they had wisdom to impart. Given that we’d just gotten engaged, I assumed it would be sage wisdom about marriage, how it took two to make it work, how it was the little things that you argued about, how hard it was to keep a marriage thriving, that sort of thing.

  I was buttering my toast when Dad cleared his throat. I glanced up from toast prep.

  “We’re selling the farm,” Dad said. No preamble, no warming us up, no gentle introduction to his thoughts, just BAM right in the face.

  “Dad, no, we’re not selling.” I sighed, having had this talk with them monthly over the past two years. “We can turn it around.”

  Mom spoke up, something she rarely did when we two men started butting heads. “Jacob, no, there is no turning it around. We can’t make the mortgage payments and pay for your father’s surgery. Also, we had a call last week from Roger Thompson with Agra-World and he put an offer in to us.”

  “You never told me that.”

  Mom and dad exchanged pointed looks, but it was Mom who gave the killing blow.

  “We’re meeting him tomorrow to start the paperwork.”

  My knife sort of slid from my fingers, hitting the table with a soft thud. I looked from Mom to my dad. He nodded. My gaze flew to Ryker, who was sitting beside me, mouth open slightly, his coffee cup frozen halfway to his lips.

  “But…” I stammered, my thoughts all over the place. “But no, don’t sell. Dad, Mom, we can do this. I just need to buckle down and—”

  “We’ve buckled, Jacob. There’s no way to tighten our belts anymore. Son, I am sorry, I know farming is your life, but I can’t manage with this hip any longer,” Dad confessed, and hearing him say that drove home the fact that this was really happening. “If we sell, I can get that new bionic hip. We’ll have money for a small place in town, and you’ll have the cash you need to pay off your student loans, buy back Ryker’s engagement ring, and move out there to the desert to be with your fiancé.”

  My appetite, which had been so strong all morning as I’d done chores with Mom, faded. I placed my toast on my plate.

  Mom gave me a reedy smile. “Honey, we know this is a shock, but is it, really? We’ve been struggling for years to turn a profit. There’s just no money in farming anymore, and we’re not getting any younger. If we sell now, we’ll be set for retirement. And you can move on with your life. It’s time, Jacob. You have Ryker now, and your life isn’t here on this dying farm. It’s in Arizona with your future husband.”

  “But I love this farm,” I said, wincing when I heard how childish I sounded. Yes, it had been my dream to farm this land as generations of my family had before me, but
what about my folks? They had nothing now but crushing debts. If we sold, they could have a secure future with a nice nest egg for their golden years. What kind of son would I be to deny them a life free from pain and struggle?

  “We know you do, son,” Dad said.

  I swallowed my emotion. “But, I love you too. I understand. I do. Ryker and I will be fine, won’t we, babe?” I looked at him and he nodded in earnest.

  Ryker nodded in silence. Mom reached across the table to take his hand and mine. Dad coughed. I suspected to cover what might be something emotional taking place.

  “We know you will be. Now, we better get to eating before it all gets cold and I have to feed it to the chickens,” Mom joked, but her eyes lacked humor. So we talked of other things while we ate, news and movies, hockey, inconsequential stuff. Light chitchat to help cover the fact that the Bensons were going to toss in the towel. A small part of my heart was breaking. Another family farm gone. A win for agribusiness. A loss for the small farmer.

  We left my parents’ house around noon for the cabin. Ryker had today to spend with me. Then I’d be taking him to the airport tomorrow for a ten a.m. flight that would wing him back west. We took the Polaris so that I didn’t have to talk to him on the ride home. My stoicism was tolerated until we stepped into the cabin, which seemed quiet now that the guys weren’t filling it.

  “You want to talk?” Ryker asked, tossing his coat to the couch. I shook my head and slumped into the sofa, letting my head drop to the back. He sat beside me. I continued staring at the old barn boards on the ceiling. “You want to cuddle, then talk?”