by Kris Calvert
I could only stare into his face as I contemplated everything he’d just said. It was only then I realized just how alone in Winter Lodge we were.
“Who’s even here to take care of us?”
Cecil cocked his head and raised one eyebrow. “Well darlin’, I hate to break it to you, but you’re lookin’ at it. The kitchen is stocked with tons of party food—really stocked, but when the first flake fell, I sent everyone home. The party was cancelled and there was no reason to keep anyone else here at the lodge. We are,” he paused, “all alone.”
“I see,” I said, raising a suspicious eyebrow of my own. “You mean to tell me, a snow storm is upon us and it’s just the two of us?”
“That is the long and the short of it. So, if you have any bags you’d like me to get from your car, I’m more than happy to accommodate you and your, you know, needs for the next few days.”
“C’mon, Cecil. You know we can’t do this. What would it look like? You and me, alone. Staying together at Winter Lodge without a proper chaperone. My mother’s likely to have an apoplectic fit, and you know it.”
“Fine,” he quipped. “You need to leave now, Mimi, because by the time you make it halfway down the mountain, you’re going to be out there in the dead of night with plenty of ice and snow. Just take care around those hairpin curves.”
“Oh for the love of Jesus. You know I’m not leaving,” I droned.
“Then for the love of Jesus, stop talking about it. I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”
“Fine,” I said, throwing myself into a chair across the room, slouching into the leather and kicking off my heels in either direction, devil-may-care.
“That’s my girl.” With a wicked smile plastered across his face, he sauntered across the room with a newfound confidence, taking my nearly empty bourbon glass with him. “I’m fixing you another drink, I’ll get your suitcase from your car and then—”
“Then what?”
Handing me the second glass of bourbon, he replied. “Then I’m going to make us dinner.”
“Cecil Winterbourne,” I chided. “You’ve never cooked a day in your life.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mimi. A lot,” he said, opening and closing the front door in a single fluid motion.
I watched a dozen or so snowflakes sweep into the room, quickly dissipating in the warm air and felt a rush of cold air make its way across the floor to me.
Cecil had always been a stubborn lunkhead around me. Even though I sympathized with his impending plight, I had a hard time believing there was more to the twenty-year-old man I’d always considered a boy than what I already knew.
He returned promptly, slamming the red door. With care, he placed my train case and suitcase on either side of him. “What do you have inside this thing? A dead body? Were you planning on moving in? Ooooor…” he said, dragging out the word as if he’d solved some major clue in a mystery novel. “You were fully aware of the weather report and drove up here anyway hoping to find me all alone and contemplating my very existence before shipping off to war.”
I stared at him, knitting my brow in contempt. “You know Cecil, you’ve always been that fella.”
“What fella?”
“The one who thinks he’s so smart and so funny.”
“Of course I’m funny. I’m funny as hell.”
“Nope,” I said, taking another sip of bourbon. I’d lost my inhibitions quickly, and my mind was slowing. My mouth however, was speeding up. “You’re not funny. Not funny at all.”
Cecil pointed to me, his eyelids heavy with alcohol. “That’s a load of crap and you know it, Mimi. I’m hilarious. In fact, I’m watching you smile at me right now. You’re smiling on the outside and you’re laughing your butt off on in inside. I’m certain of it.”
I shook my head no. “Not laughing.”
“Liar.”
I gasped, splaying my hand across my chest in playful jest. “Cecil Winterbourne. How dare you call me a liar?”
“Oh,” he sighed. “I dunno. Something about you lying to your parents about where you planned on being this Christmas. How you’re going to lie about why you stayed here with me. Maybe how you lie to your mother all the damn time just to keep her happy.”
Suddenly I wasn’t feeling so playful anymore. I took a long sip of my bourbon, laying my head against the back of the chair, letting out a protracted sigh.
“There it is,” he said.
I allowed a few moments to pass before saying anything. He’d cut right to the heart of me. The question was, did I care that he knew me so well? I decided to play it off, act a fool—as if I had no idea what he was referring to, hoping it would shut him down. “There what is, Cecil?”
Staring at the rustic chandelier that hung from the tall ceiling, I heard his footsteps on the pine floor until he stopped and stood behind me. Peering down, he braced his hands on the back of my chair, bringing his face so close to mine I could feel the warmth of his rosy cheeks radiating onto my skin.
“The truth, Mimi,” he whispered. “You despise the idea you can’t be yourself or act in the fashion you choose because your mother wouldn’t approve.”
I swallowed hard and lied. “My mother doesn’t control me.”
Cecil backed away and I raised my head up to stare into the roaring fire, ready to defend myself. Instead, I attacked. “Anyway, look who’s talking. You’re afraid to go home and tell your parents you’re leaving. Why is that, Cecil? Is it because you think your father will try to pull some strings to keep you stateside? Rich boy, son of bootlegger gets special treatment? Or maybe because you’ve been dying to leave Kentucky to see more of the world and you don’t know how to tell your parents that the bourbon business isn’t for you.”
Cecil downed the rest of his drink and unbuttoned his shirt another notch before completely dismantling his tie and tossing it on the coffee table. “If you were a man, I’d punch you right in the mouth.”
Twisting my face into a smug expression I replied without hesitation. “Go for it.”
“Jesus. You might be the most frustrating woman in the world, Mimi.”
“Marilyn.”
Cecil shook his head at me and turned his attention to the window. “Wow. It’s really coming down out there.”
I stood, joining him at the window. “I’ve never seen snowflakes that big.”
“Me either,” Cecil agreed, pointing to my car. “It’s really sticking.”
My new car was covered. The air filled with so much white, it was hard to see very far into the distance.
Without saying a word, we both walked to the front door, throwing it open for a better look. It fell like feathers from the sky, gently floating to the ground without the aid of wind. The air was damp and smelled of the magic only found in the falling snow. It was a different kind of quiet. It was a silent night just before Christmas.
“I’d say we’re gonna have near perfect conditions for a sleigh ride on Christmas Eve.”
The very thought of traveling through the snow-covered woods made me smile. No people, no parents, no judgement.
Turning to Cecil, I dropped my head. “I’m sorry I said all that.”
He shrugged. “I’m sorry I called you out on your mother.”
I took one step closer to him. “What do you say to a truce? As long as we’re here, we commit to nothing but honesty where nothing leaves this lodge and everything we do or say is just between the two of us—now and forevermore.”
“I’d say you just described a perfect scenario for my last few days on American soil.”
I nodded, giving him an honest smile. “Shake on it?”
Cecil pointed above our heads without looking and raised one eyebrow. “Kiss.”
I looked above us, and hanging from a tree limb bowing over the door, now covered in snow, was one tiny sprig of mistletoe tied with a blue ribbon.
I gasped and looked back to him. “Did you seriously plan this?”
He shook his h
ead. “But I’ll take fate over a plan any day of the week. Especially when it comes to you, Mimi.”
A chill ran raced through my body and I shivered. Cecil wrapped me up in a bear hug and I crossed my arms in front of my chest, allowing him to enclose me completely in his warm embrace. Finally taking a deep breath, I felt my body relax. Dissolving into him was effortless and I melted like butter on a warm biscuit.
“Let’s get you inside by the fire,” he mumbled into my exposed neck. “You’re not even wearing shoes.”
I giggled, realizing he was right and before I had a chance to make a move, Cecil swept me up in his arms to carry me over the threshold and out of the snow.
I looked up to him, his snow covered head and rosy cheeks making him look like an angel.
“Mimi.”
“Yes.”
“I’m gonna kiss you.”
I closed my eyes and nodded. “Okay.”
At first a short peck of his warm lips met mine, but then he came back for more. A second and longer kiss made my stomach flip and I found myself gripping his neck in approval, drawing him closer to me.
Pulling away before I wanted it to end, he looked me in the eye with a crooked grin and asked, “Do you know what I want?”
I shook my head, still all a titter from the kiss.
“I want dinner. Are you hungry?” he asked.
I couldn’t hide the shock on my face. He’d just kissed me, passionately. Little Cecil Winterbourne—a man six years younger than I gave me possibly the best kiss of my life and all he had to say after is he’s hungry? I replied with the only word I could think of. “Sure.”
Cecil carried me across the threshold, closing the door behind us before setting me down in front of the fireplace in a cozy chair. He covered my feet with a blanket and stood back to look at me, his hands hanging from his hips as if he were inspecting his handiwork. I brushed a stray hair from my face and smiled at him, doing my best to hide the heat I still felt in my cheeks, then noticed my lipstick smeared at the corner of his mouth.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he said.
“Do what?” Uncontrollably, I closed my eyes, reliving the moment in my head. I’d never given a thought to kissing Cecil Winterbourne or what it might be like until tonight. And now, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Cecil gestured with his head to the door. “Carry someone over the threshold.”
“Oh,” I said, fingering the corners of my mouth, hoping my own lips weren’t a mess.
“It just hit me that I might not ever get that chance again. I mean, who knows what could happen to me?”
I swallowed hard. I thought we were playing coy but Cecil was truly baring his soul.
“Don’t talk like that.”
Cecil pulled a footstool from the corner and turned off the overhead chandelier in the big room, leaving only the Christmas tree in the curl of the staircase and the fire to light the room. Sitting in front of me, he took my feet in his hands and began to rub them with care, staring into my face without shying away.
“I have to be realistic, Mimi. I know when I leave there’s a possibility I won’t be coming home. I understand that. I think I’ve even made peace with it.”
The feel of his warm hands on my feet, the way he caressed my ankles all the while never taking his gaze from my eyes was more intoxicating than the bourbon.
I had an uncontrollable urge to be near him. To touch him again, even if it wasn’t his lips. Sliding my hands under the blanket, I lifted my skirt, popping the garters to my stockings.
“What in the world are you rootin’ around for under there?” he asked, his voice sultry and condescending at the same time.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I slid the blanket away from my feet and under my chin before pushing the nude stockings down enough for him to clearly see.
Giving the silks only a fleeting glance, he immediately looked back to me. Slowly, he ran his strong hand up my calf, giving it a squeeze, before curling his fingers around the lacy top of the first stocking, now ruched just below my knee. “You are full of Christmas surprises, aren’t you?”
I cocked my head, allowing the smile I’d been trying to contain to curve across my lips.
He leaned in to remove the second silk stocking, bowing his face to meet my bare leg. The fire danced in his eyes and the glow of the room made me feel as if I was in a dream. It was the kind of magic I’d read about in books, but never thought I could experience myself.
With one lingering kiss to my shin, a charge erupted in my body and I visibly flinched. Cecil did not.
“Mmmm,” he moaned as he pulled away, caressing my leg in his strong hands. “Know what this makes me wanna do?”
I bit my lip in anticipation of his next move. “What?”
“Take a big ole bite out of one of those turkey legs in the icebox.”
“What?”
Cecil stood, placing my bare feet one by one on his footstool. “Yeah. I told ya. I’m hungrier than a bear. Wanna eat?”
I dropped my feet to the floor—the cold wood bringing me out of the fantasy and into reality. “Sure. Why not?”
Cecil held out his hand to me, pulling me from the chair. “Let’s go, Mimi. I said I’d take care of you and I’m going to live up to that promise tonight.”
I nodded, wrapping the blanket around me. “Do you mind if I change first?” I asked, cocking my head in the direction of my suitcases still sitting by the door. “I’m really dressed for a party and not—you know—”
He hurried to pick up by bags. “Of course. Where are my manners? I’ll put you in the master bedroom. I think you’ll be very comfy in there, Miss Richardson.”
“You should take that room, Cecil. After all, it is your house.”
He shook his head. “I want to stay in my own room.”
I followed him up the winding staircase, knowing I’d want to stop at the top to see the Christmas tree in its entirety. I’d done it since I was a child.
“Are you sure?” I asked, still reluctant to take the biggest, most beautiful bedroom in the lodge.
Cecil stopped in his tracks and turned to me. “I’m sure. I have lots of grand memories of this place. I’d like to leave it exactly how I remember it as a kid—in my own room.”
Placing the suitcases on a valet in the corner, Cecil turned on a single lamp, setting the beautifully rustic room aglow. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a single dead animal to be found.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
Cecil hung out at the door. “I’ll see you downstairs in a few. Washroom is right there,” he said pointing to the closed double doors I could only assume led to a bathroom as beautiful as the bedroom. “Take your time.”
I gave him a nod and he shut the door.
Barefoot and staring at myself in a full-length mirror, I sighed. “You’re a prize idiot, Marilyn,” I hissed under my breath.
Reaching behind me, I began to unzip my dress as I walked toward the bathroom. I would wash up, change and try to act like a normal human being and not some suddenly star-struck girl who drops her stockings for the first man who rubs her feet.
I opened the double doors, swinging them inward and flipped the switch on the wall, only to be met with two red and glowing eyes. A blood-curdling scream erupted from my mouth and I jumped out of my own skin, plastering myself against the bathroom wall.
Perched on a mantel high above the bathtub was a stuffed wolf—teeth bared, snout wrinkled in a snarl—it was ready to attack. Its body attached to a wooden stand by only a hind paw, the animal looked as if it was leaping into the air ready to eat anyone stupid enough to use the bathroom. I’d nearly wet my own pants.
“Not funny, Cecil!” Placing my hand on my chest, I felt my heart race.
Catching my breath, I could hear him laughing outside my door. It didn’t matter that he’d practically seduced me with his kiss and charm just moments before. Cecil Winterbourne was ten years old, all over again.
Dinner co
nsisted of turkey, Kentucky country ham and biscuits, sweet tea and red velvet cakes by the fire. There was no way we’d even have a chance to sample all the food that had been prepared for the party.
Cecil didn’t want to eat in the dining room, citing it was too formal for just the two of us. I whole-heartedly agreed and we decided upon a picnic on the same blanket I’d shed my stockings under as our table.
Now in a pair of dungaree sailor pants that buttoned up the front on either side of my hips, I wore a white blouse and a cozy old sweater I’d brought for bed, knowing Winter Lodge got drafty at night. Cecil lost the uniform, opting for khaki pants and a blue cardigan.
With a full stomach, I leaned back against one of the leather couches and sighed. The front windows of the lodge were covered now, the panes icy with a layer of snow. The grandfather clock in the corner of the great room rang out in song, chiming twelve times.
“Wonder what it’s like out there,” I said, cocking my head to one side.
Cecil glanced at his watch before following my line of sight to the window. “I suppose it looks a lot like Christmas Eve.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he replied filling our original bourbon glasses with a nightcap. “Here.”
“I can’t eat or drink anything else, Cecil.” I closed my eyes, pulling my sweater around my shoulders tightly to ward off a chill.
“It’s late. Why don’t you let me put you to bed?”
“I’m a little drunk and a lot tired, but I am fully capable of putting myself to bed, Cecil. I’m not a child.”
“I didn’t say you were a child.”
“No, you said you wanted to put me to bed.”
“Whatever. Now you’re just acting like a child.”
“Hey,” I said, my mind dizzy from the last drink of the night. “I’m six years older than you. That’s a long time, little boy.”
“C’mon, Mimi,” he said, pulling me from the blanket by my hands.