by penny watson
Andi brought the pipe close to her face and inhaled. A clean, spicy fragrance filled the air. “I don’t recognize this scent. What is it?”
Dietmar answered, “This is made from cypress, a Mediterranean tree that was used to build boats, maybe even Noah’s arc!”
Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed at the toy with complete awe. “This is so cool. What a wonderful idea.”
“Didi and I have been working on a dozen prototypes this year. I’d like to get at least five manufactured for this upcoming holiday.” Sven scribbled some comments in a notebook.
“Here. Try this one, Andi. Close your eyes.” Dietmar placed another toy in front of her. It felt like loops hooked together, and it made a lovely sound when she shook it. She noticed a fresh, earthy fragrance.
“This is cedar, isn’t it?” She recognized the scent she associated with Sven.
“Ja! And I like the sound of the rings as they move. It’s like wind music in the trees, right?”
She gently placed her hand on top of Dietmar’s. “Yes. Like music.”
“My friends will be so happy when they experience these toys,” he said. He pushed them into a pile on the table.
Andi caressed the silky wood. “My mother is blind, Dietmar.”
His head snapped up. “She is? Since birth?”
“Yes. And she would be charmed by these designs. She loves exploring interesting textures, scents, and sounds. My Uncle Dominic plays the flute for her every night. She adores music.” Andi sighed. “This is so inspiring. These creations are precious.”
Dietmar pushed the rings into Andi’s hands. “You must give this to your mother. She will like it, ja?”
Andi shook her head. “I can’t take this. It’s your prototype.”
“No. I insist. It will make your mother joyful on Christmas morning. You must give it to her.”
Sven nodded at Andi. “Take it. We’ll make more. This is important to Didi.”
She trembled as she clutched the toy. “Thank you, Dietmar. My mom will be thrilled with this. It’s lovely.”
Didi’s hands reached to her and hovered over her face. “May I?”
Andi was used to her mother touching her face, in an effort to gage her emotions. They joked about it at home. Is this Andi’s angry face or happy face?
“Go ahead.”
His miniature elfin fingers glided over her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. I wonder what he sees.
He stopped suddenly and leaned back. “Do you have a favorite Christmas memory? A favorite gift? Tell me.”
She wasn’t expecting that question. A barrage of memories assailed her. She closed her eyes and remembered. “I was ten. We found a cast-off tree behind our building and rescued it. Hannah, my sister, and I made ornaments with construction paper and glitter. We had a turkey from the community center.” She opened her eyes and found Sven watching her. “That was the year I got my first writing journal. I thought it was the greatest gift ever. Just a little notebook, you know? But I held onto that thing like it was a diamond tiara.”
“That sounds like a special gift.” Didi was patting her arm. Her throat felt scratchy. She ignored it.
“Silver sparkle in the dark tree
Silver glowing in the sky at midnight
Silver eyes waiting for magic
Silver wishes come true with the sunrise.”
“Oh! That is so beautiful. What is that? A song?” Didi’s face lit up with a huge smile.
Andi bit her lip and whispered, “My first poem. I wrote it on Christmas Eve when I was ten. In that little notebook.”
Sven spun her chair to face him. His eyes raked over her face. “Thank you for sharing that with us.”
She shrugged. “No big deal. Just my first attempt at poetry.”
“It’s a very big deal. The poem is heart-felt and special. It doesn’t matter that it was your first poem. Or that you were ten. It captures Christmas magic perfectly.”
He leaned close to her and kissed her deeply. God help her, she wanted that kiss to go on forever.
News flash…You can’t have it all. The story AND the kisses. What are you going to do, Andi De Luca?
“I hear smooching sounds.” Didi giggled.
“You’re right. Guilty as charged. I like kissing Andi a lot,” Sven said.
“Maybe kissing Andi is your favorite gift.” The little elf boy wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.
“Maybe you’re right.” Sven brushed a thumb over her cheekbone and she barely suppressed a shiver.
Andi cleared her throat. “And maybe you two need to get back to work. I could use a hot shower sometime soon.”
Sven shot her a worried look. “I’m sorry. We lost track of time. Are you feeling okay?”
“Sure. Just a little bit tired, I guess.”
“We’re almost done. Just a couple more minutes.” Sven kissed her gently on the forehead, and Andi melted inside.
For the next fifteen minutes, Dietmar and Sven discussed their options and what would go into production for the upcoming Christmas holiday. The little elf was filled with enthusiasm. Sven encouraged his outside-of-the-box ideas and treated him with respect, in spite of his young age. Natascha brought cookies and snacks and laughed with Sven as they reminisced about the past.
At first, Andi joined in the conversation. But after a while, she sat silently and absorbed the atmosphere around her. Had she ever been anywhere that felt so warm and safe and sweet? No. Nowhere like this. With the sounds of Christmas carols serenading them and the scents of cinnamon and cloves drifting from the cozy kitchen, this elfin cottage felt like a slice of heaven.
Like magik.
As Sven and Andi finally prepared to leave, he turned to the young boy and slung his arm around his shoulders.
“So what’s your secret, Dietmar? You always know it’s me when I arrive. Is it my lumbering footsteps? What gives me away?”
“It’s your scent. You smell like fresh cedar.”
Sven caught Andi’s eye. “Does Andi have a fragrance, too?”
“I’m afraid of the answer. Probably Yeti fur.”
Didi laughed. “Ja! I do smell Yeti. You two had some trouble at the gate?”
“You could say that. I’d rather not talk about it.”
Dietmar cocked his head to one side. “You smell like lily of the valley.”
She stilled. “Lily of the valley? Those are my favorite flowers.”
The elf nodded. “Do you know what they mean? Those flowers. They are quite poisonous, but also so sweet and pretty.”
“What do they mean?” She dreaded the answer. Was she poison?
“The return of happiness.” Dietmar graced her with an exuberant smile, and Andi’s heart lightened.
The return of happiness? Was it possible?
Sven slid his arm around her waist. “That’s a nice sentiment. I totally approve.”
It took all of her willpower not to collapse against him.
Who was she? The poison hiding behind a cascade of innocent looking blossoms?
Is that who she wanted to be?
Sven gathered her in his arms as they said their farewells and hustled her back onto the sleigh. “I’m sorry I took so long. But Didi has been such a huge help. I wanted to make sure I got his toys in the queue.” He cupped the back of her neck. “Andi, you look like you’re about to pass out. I need to get you home straight away.”
She clung to his side. Her voice was frozen. The trip to Sven’s cottage passed in a blur of lights and snowflakes and the sound of Christmas bells somewhere in the distance.
Who was she?
Cutthroat reporter for The Scoop?
Her family’s saving grace?
Sven’s sidekick?
All the possible headlines that had been floating through her head melted away in a river of guilt.
Andi reached inside herself and found something she thought had withered away years ago.
Her heart.
Sven was worried abou
t Andi.
She’d been a pretty tough cookie throughout this entire ordeal. She’d survived severe turbulence, a frost flower attack, hypothermia, and a Yeti mauling. On top of finding out that Santa Claus was real.
But sometime following their visit with Dietmar, she’d clammed up and adopted a haunted look in her eyes.
Had he pushed her too far? Was this too much for her to accept? Had she finally settled into a state of shock? He found it hard to believe that the intrepid reporter would succumb to shock, but anything was possible.
Over the last hour, he’d personally scrubbed her in the shower and shampooed her hair. Washed out the scent of Yeti fur, rinsed away the blood and ash, bandaged her cuts, applied salve to her wound. He’d combed her hair until it shone like a sheet of silk.
She’d said nothing, not a word.
Maybe it wasn’t shock. Maybe the fact that she’d finally let down a wall—and shared her first poem—was too overwhelming. That poem was sweet and innocent, the ramblings of a little girl who needed something to believe in. And that young, vulnerable child was still alive inside of Andi De Luca. Sven was determined to help her turn around her professional future and reignite her creative dreams. Even if she fought him, kicking and screaming, the entire way.
He wrapped her in a thick terrycloth robe and settled her onto a sofa in front of the living room fireplace. The flames heated his cottage and cast a glow on her honey skin. At least she was warm and safe. He hoped somewhere inside of her she knew that.
He kneeled on the floor and lifted her foot. “Are your feet still cold? I have loads of socks knit by my niece, Gabi.” He offered her a basket of striped stockings.
Andi pulled her troubled gaze from the fire and looked down at her feet. “Peppermint socks?”
Finally! She speaks. The tiny smile that lit up her face calmed Sven’s nerves.
“You like the red-and-white stripes? Gabi and Kiana could knit a bunch for you to take home. Maybe you could get some extras for your nephews and Hannah, too. What do you think?” He slid some on her bare feet.
She wriggled her toes in the thick socks and turned back to the fire.
“Is Gabi an elf? Is that why she wasn’t at the gala?”
Sven nodded. “Yeah. She stayed home with their snowman. According to Oskar, she had an exam at Magik School. She’s the most gifted bändiger in Glasdorf.”
Andi bit her lip. “Your family history is quite something. Dad’s Santa. Brothers all involved in Christmas production. Elves and magik snowmen. Yeti at the gate.” She reached into the pocket of her robe and removed a tiny camera. She placed it on the side table.
Sven froze. “What is that?”
“My spy-cam. I was supposed to take pictures of the elves. For my huge exposé about Santa Claus and the North Pole.”
His jaw tightened. Holy shit.
“But I got so caught up in our trip around Glasdorf, I forgot to actually take any pictures.” She shrugged. “Some reporter I am.”
He remained silent, waiting for her to finish. Have I been totally wrong about her?
“You told me your heart isn’t in the toy business anymore. But I beg to differ. What I saw today was spectacular. You and Dietmar created something really special, really touching.”
Sven was confused by the change of topics, but he slowly nodded. “Thank you. I’m not so jazzed about churning out the same train model #74 that Klaus Enterprises has been making for generations, but I am excited about the innovations for multi-sensory toys. I’m glad you liked it.”
Andi pulled her gaze away from the fire and finally looked him in the eye. “I loved it. I love that you think about what will make children happy. I love that the elves are like family. I love that this place smells like cinnamon and gingerbread. I wish Hannah and the twins and my mom and dad and Dominic could see Glasdorf. Just for a moment. It’s better than the princess bed.” Her voice broke. “You make dreams come true.”
“Silver wishes come true with the sunrise,” he whispered.
She smiled. “Too corny? I guess it’s not bad for a ten-year-old’s debut poem.”
“I love your first poem.”
“I love…that this place exists. It’s the opposite of almost all of my stories, you know. The ones about people cheating and lying and swindling.”
“Andi—” Sven reached for her hands.
She shook her head. “No. Let me finish. Okay. This is hard enough.” She blew out a long breath. “I’m not doing the story. I…I can’t do the story. It’s not fair to your family or the elves. You have something untouched by the rest of the world. Something filled with goodness. You deserve your privacy, safety, and security.” She fiddled with the bathrobe belt nervously. “I mean, this story would be huge for me. A ton of money. A ton of exposure. But…I can’t hurt you like that. Not only would it be devastating for everyone who lives in Glasdorf, it would crush the dreams of a million little kids. I just can’t do it.”
Sven released a huge sigh of relief. “I knew you would do the right thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this business anymore. I’m turning into a god-damned softie.”
“I think you’re a gorgeous, sweet, kind-hearted softie. And a damned fine poet.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You know what I’m giving up, Klaus.”
He brought her knuckles to his mouth and kissed them reverently. “I know. Thank you.”
Tears leaked down her cheeks. “I better get a really kick-ass present from Santa this year. Really kick-ass. Like a Lamborghini or something.”
“I personally guarantee a Christmas to remember.” He took her hand and rubbed it against his beard. “I’m sorry you had to make that choice. And just for the record, I think it’s time for you to revisit the idea of writing for a more reputable newspaper—”
“Not now. I don’t want to talk about it now, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay, not right now. But later. We’re going to talk about it later.”
“Just curious. What happens when a Suddie finds out about Glasdorf and they’re not trustworthy? What then? Death by frost flower? Yeti brunch? Torture with non-stop Celine Dion Christmas music?”
“It has happened. Sometimes a Suddie finds out about us and has to be silenced.”
Andi blanched.
“No. Not like that. The elves use their magik to judge them, and if they find them untrustworthy, they…strip their memories.”
“Jesus.” Andi shot upright. “What does that mean?”
“It basically removes all your memories about Glasdorf. Santa. The elves. To protect us.”
“Any side effects after that…um…procedure?”
“Sometimes a person will suffer from headaches for a few weeks afterward.”
“Don’t let them do that to me, Sven. Please. I don’t want my brain fried by a bunch of wacked-out elves.”
“They won’t. I know you’re telling the truth. They will, too.”
“I…I don’t want to forget you. If they strip my memories, I’ll lose all of this. You. And me.” She buried her face in her hands and wept. Huge wracking sobs. “I want to remember. I need to remember.”
The scrappy New Yorker was sobbing. It was like a dagger in his heart. Sven sat down and pulled her onto his lap. He cradled her head against his chest and tried to whisper reassurances.
“Baby, don’t cry. You’re killing me. I promise it will be okay. No one will touch your memories. Not unless you want them to.”
“Why would I want them to?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to erase the less-than-pleasant stuff we’ve just gone through. The plane ride, storm, frost flowers. The Yeti? Do you want to keep them all? Even the bad ones?”
“Of course. You take the bad with the good. That’s how you know the good is good.” She sniffled. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”
Sven kissed her wet cheeks, the tip of her nose, her stubborn chin. “You’re making perfect sense. I don’t want you t
o forget me, either. Maybe this hasn’t been the smoothest start to a relationship, but there’s no way I’m letting you go.”
Andi’s bathrobe gaped open. Sven’s breath caught in his throat. God, she tempted him. All lush curves, honey skin, and hair like silk. Irresistible in every way.
He knew exactly how to make her tears disappear.
He kissed her neck. Tugged at the sensitive skin with his teeth. Sucked hard enough to mark her. Like he’d been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on her at the New York Public Library.
He’d finally marked his woman.
His breath was coming in shallow pants. “Tell me if you want me to stop. Is this too much? Do you need to rest—”
Andi shook her head. In one smooth movement, she unbelted the sash on her robe and let it fall open. “I need you. I want more memories with you. Please.” The tears on her lashes glittered in the firelight.
He was mesmerized by the sight of her full breasts, her aroused nipples, the sleek curve of her shoulders. Teased by the knowledge of what was hidden below the bottom of the robe.
“I want you, too.” He gently placed her on the couch, and stood. Unbuttoned his shirt and flung it to the floor. Kicked off his boots.
“Don’t forget your pants.” Andi’s tears were drying up.
“I won’t forget my pants.” He shucked off his Carhartts.
“And your boxer shorts.” Her eyes were wide as he slid the shorts down his legs. She offered him a wobbly smile. “You look like a lion, with all that scruffy blond hair.”
He growled at her.
She ran her hands over his thighs, squeezing his muscles. She cupped him, stroked him. Then leaned forward and nuzzled the hair cradling his erection. Sven’s eyes drooped.
“Andi. Jesus.”
Her kisses felt like fire. Her whimpers inflamed his soul. He stood perfectly still and watched this exotic princess work her magic.
Finally, he pulled her upright, and she hooked her arms around his neck.
“Did you like that? My golden lion?”
“Hell, yeah, I liked it.” He filled his hands with the weight of her breasts, ran his rough fingers over the silk of her skin, pinched the hard nipples until she sobbed with pleasure.