by M K Hardy
A frisson of excitement passed through Brooke. “I just want to be close to you,” she murmured. “However and whenever I can.” To her surprise—and disappointment, at first—Holly pulled back, sitting up.
“If you’re sure of that,” she said, “grab some candles. And come to bed.”
December 26th
Holly’s bedroom was different in daylight. Last night, in the dark, she’d registered only romantic light and shade, soft blankets, and Holly—Holly’s mouth, Holly’s hands, Holly’s skin. Now the morning light was filtering through the gap in the heavy curtains, Brooke’s eyes had begun to adjust, and she could make out light, softwood furniture, storage boxes and general clutter, a laundry basket, an alarm clock, a rather dusty bedside lamp. The candles had burned down, and the power was back on judging by the flashing 00:00 on the clock. She had no idea where her phone was, so her best guess at the time was “after dawn”, and Holly’s warm weight behind her, an arm slung around her middle, did little to persuade her to further investigate.
Instead she turned over slowly and focused her gaze on Brooke, marvelling at the sweep of her lashes and the curve of her lower lip as she pouted a little at the disturbance to her sleep. Brooke smiled, reaching out to trace a finger over her cheek as hazy memories of the night before filtered back to her.
She hadn’t been sure what to expect with Holly. She’d tried to prepare herself for last-minute nerves, for uncertainty, perhaps even tears or panic. But there’d been none of that. Apparently, when Holly decided something she jumped in with both feet, and last night had been no exception—her only concern had been her sleeping daughter down the hall, prompting shushing, hasty muffling, and at one point a descent into giggling, which was as likely to wake Maya as the noise that had preceded it. All in all, it had been unexpected, exciting, and had made things feel even more real—though Brooke still felt like pinching herself now, in case this turned out to be a dream.
Rather than risk disrupting the reverie, however, she instead leaned in to place a light kiss on Holly’s lips. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted Holly to wake or not, but either way Holly stirred and returned the embrace, her arm tightening a little around Brooke’s waist. After a few sleepy kisses, though, Holly stiffened and pulled back, eyes flying open, then squinted across at her.
“What’s—”
“Shh,” Holly cut her off, reaching to touch a finger to Brooke’s lips. She glanced to the side, as though this would help her hear what was happening outside the room. Moving like she thought she was in a Mission: Impossible scenario, Holly rolled out of the bed, apparently entirely unselfconscious about her own nakedness as she moved on tiptoe around the room. She gathered their discarded clothes and dumped them unceremoniously on a chair. Then she pulled open a drawer in one of the big dressers under the window and rifled within for some items of clothing, two of which she then tossed Brooke’s way: a T-shirt, and some loose pyjama shorts. The room was still chilled from most of a night without heating, and so she pulled her own matching outfit on at speed before diving back beneath the covers.
“It’s only a matter of time,” she warned.
“Oh, do you want me to move to the spare room?” Brooke offered, secretly praying the answer would be no. If this room was cold, the other bedroom was sure to be freezing, and it didn’t have a Holly in it to snuggle with.
“Only if you want to. But I’ll understand if you do,” Holly added. “Maya won’t…make assumptions. I don’t think. But you know how kids can be with innocent questions. And she will climb in between us.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Brooke said, nervous and hopeful all at once. “But if she asks anything awkward, I’m going to pass it straight to you for an answer.”
Holly turned a little to look at her companion. “And what would you like me to say?” she asked quietly. “If Maya were to ask, say, whether you were going to be staying over again? Or, I dunno… If she asked if we were dating?”
Brooke raised her eyebrows. “Would she?”
“I don’t think so. But say she did. What should I tell her?”
“Um, you could tell her she’s hopefully going to be seeing a lot more of me…and yeah,” Brooke said, equally shy now, her cheeks a little warm, “if she asked if we’re dating I guess you should say yes. If you want to.”
Holly smiled, and Brooke grew warmer still. “What about Boston?” she asked, her hand seeking Brooke’s beneath the covers. “What about Noelle? This place, all the bad memories it holds for you…it’s our home. I can’t leave, not right now, not any time soon.”
“I know. I wouldn’t ask you to. And I think…I think it’s time to give Noelle another chance. My company has a branch in Chicago; I could see about transferring there, at least for a few months. Then I’d only be a few hours away, and we could…see how things go. Whether it’s possible to replace bad memories of a place with good ones.”
These words seemed to touch Holly, though not in quite the way Brooke intended, for her eyes grew bright with tears. When Brooke moved to comfort her, completely bemused, Holly melted willingly against her, though at the same time she shook her head as though to ward off the sympathy. “It’s okay,” she murmured, “it’s fine.” She sounded decidedly reluctant to go on but couldn’t quite leave the moment hanging without resolution. “Chris used to say something similar,” she confessed at last. “About rewriting good moments over bad ones. And being here, now, like this…”
“Oh.” Brooke’s stomach clenched in sympathy and she leaned down to press her lips to the top of Holly’s head. “I’m not trying to… I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for. If this is too fast or whatever. I don’t want you to feel weird.”
“Mm, no, don’t say that,” Holly said, shaking her head again, looking back up at Brooke, eyes still bright, but her cheeks dry, and rosy from sleep. “I’m going to feel weird. It’s okay for things to be a little weird. As long as they also feel right.”
Brooke smiled, but before she was able to reply they heard a door creaking open and the pad of small feet approaching. “Mom, my room is really cold. Can I come in with you?”
Holly shot Brooke a “told you so” look. “Mhm, okay, but don’t you dare put those feet on me.”
“But you’re so war—oh, hey Brooke, awesome!”
The rest of that day was surreal, but good. Maya was overjoyed to have Brooke around and luckily didn’t ask any awkward questions about what she had been doing in her mother’s bed. They had French toast for breakfast and then settled in to play games and spend time together, just the three of them. When the evening approached, Brooke needed to think about heading back to the B and B—she hadn’t brought a change of clothes with her the night before and there were travel arrangements she needed to deal with. Holly tasked Maya with some food prep so she and Brooke could have a few minutes alone together, though they spent several of those merely embracing, reluctant to let go now they had finally found each other.
Eventually Holly pulled back, resting her forehead against Brooke’s. “We’ll see you again before you have to leave, yeah?”
“Of course,” Brooke said. “I’ll come by for lunch before I head to the airport?”
“Yes, good. Because I don’t think I’d hear the end of it from Maya if you didn’t say a proper goodbye.”
Brooke chuckled. “I bet.” Then, after a moment, she spoke again. “Thank you for this—all of it. It was…incredible.”
“You think this was good, just wait till next year,” Holly said with a grin. “I have three hundred and sixty-four days to come up with the perfect present.”
With a shake of her head Brooke pulled Holly close for a brief but passionate kiss. “No need,” she murmured, pressing another kiss to Holly’s cheek, inhaling the scent of her, feeling her warmth. “I’ve already got everything I want.”
Three Hundred and Fifty-nine Days Later
“Try it now?”
“Hang on… Nope, nothing.”
Holly gave a growl of frustration. “Why does nothing ever just work? It was fine back at the old unit.”
“I dunno what to tell you, boss,” Travis said, popping his tousled head round the door. “Maybe something shook loose in the trip?”
“A hundred yards down the street?”
The youth shrugged. “Was it strictly the best idea to plan a shop move for December 20th?”
“Well, I didn’t though, did I? I planned to move on December 15th, which should’ve been absolutely fine. Aurgh!” Holly punctuated her words with a thump on the counter beside her. “Okay. All right. Let’s take a break.” A cheery ring sounded from the front of the shop. “Oh, the doorbell works. Well. What a relief.”
At least her visitor put a smile on her face. “Hey,” Brooke said, leaning in for a brief kiss. “How’s it all going here?”
“Awful. You? Kids at Highfield yet?”
“No, thank God—we’re nowhere near ready. Margie’s doing her thing but honestly I don’t know if we’ll be done in time.”
“You need help? I could phone Mom and Dad and Angie…”
“No, no, she’s pulled in the whole crew—she’s got Phil wrangling the caterers, and the bridge club are on supply room organisation.” Brooke gave a rueful smile as she shook her head. “Honestly, I had to get out of there before she fired me. Don’t even ask me how, but she would’ve.”
Holly’s smile widened into a broad grin at this. “And what about you?” she asked. “All ready for your classes?”
“Absolutely not. But hey, as long as the kids have a good time…”
Holly couldn’t have been prouder. Brooke had not only experienced a change of heart about selling the bakery; she had reconsidered the fate of the other two buildings as well, eventually deciding to turn down Heartspring’s offer in order to invest in Highfield and instead develop it into a community arts centre. And so, they found themselves, a year on, with Holly relocating Buns ’n’ Roses to the larger Main Street unit, expanding to include a café space, while Brooke awaited her first “youth residential”. After a summer of sedate weekend courses and workshops mostly attended by rich old folks, Highfield Art Collective was preparing to receive a coach of high school kids from public schools all over the state—mostly kids currently in the care system—ready to spend their Christmas break making art together, with Brooke herself as one of their tutors.
It might not have been the Christmas Holly had imagined when dreaming of spending the holiday with Brooke, but now it was fast approaching, she found she wouldn’t have it any other way. Providing it didn’t drive them crazy first.
“You staying for coffee? I’m sorry to report there are no pastries as yet. Taylor broke the ovens.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah, you know what you did, saboteur.” Holly directed her words at the comically affronted young man. “Caffeine, stat.”
As Taylor sloped off to the coffee machine (which, mercifully, was operational), Holly turned back to Brooke and stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around her neck. “How are you doing? Really?” she asked, more quietly now. After all, even without the stress of a brand-new community venture, this time last year Brooke had been dragged back here against her will, trying to figure out how to grieve for a woman who’d tormented her all through her young life.
“I’m okay. Looking forward to Christmas Eve with you and Maya,” Brooke replied. She placed a light kiss on Holly’s cheek. “And the relative peace and quiet.”
“Mm, me too.” Holly’s fingers scratched idly at the nape of Brooke’s neck. “Have I told you this morning yet how much I love you?”
“Only twice. You’re falling behind.”
“Hey, cut me a break, it’s been a stressful day!” Holly grinned again, lifting back onto tiptoes to touch her lips lightly to Brooke’s once more. “I love you. A lot. So much.”
“I love you too. You’re amazing,” Brooke said. “And I know you can do this. But… Do you want me to call Jim to come take a look at the ovens? He still owes me a favour for helping him with his search rankings.”
“Oh my God, would you? Forget what I said before, that wasn’t love: I didn’t know what true love was until this exact moment.”
Brooke chuckled in the low, throaty way that still made Holly squirm. “I’d do anything for true love.”
About the Author
MK Hardy is the pen name for two geeky women living in Scotland. They’ve been writing partners since 2005 and life partners since 2008. When they’re not typing frantically at one another they like to walk the dogs, cuddle the cats, drink cocktails, sing songs, and play boardgames.
Email: [email protected]
Facebook: www.facebook.com/mkhardywrites
Twitter: @mkhardywrites
Other books by this author
Chasing Ghosts
Also Available from NineStar Press
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