by S. A. Hunter
“Was that Damien?” Dad asked.
I got up off the floor. “He wants me to come to the courtyard.”
I changed into jeans and a T-shirt. I wasn’t the sort that could go out in public in my pajamas. I grabbed a jacket to head out. It was still unseasonably warm. It was supposed to get into the low sixties for the day. I went into the school and was met by Angela.
She surprised me in a heavy fur-trimmed coat. “Are you that sensitive to the cold?” I asked.
“Turn around,” she said.
I didn’t get a chance to ask why before she’d turned me around herself.
“Ang, this is for you,” I said, holding up the gift bag. I’d just barely remembered to grab both bags before I headed out.
“That’s sweet. This is for you.” A knit cap was shoved onto my head.
She proceeded to pull my jacket off. I tried to grab it back, but she swatted my hands away.
“This isn’t heavy enough. Trust me.”
“Ang, what are you—“ She lifted my arm and put it into the sleeve of a heavy down coat.
“These are my gifts to you,” she said, holding up the coat so I could put my other arm through.
“Thanks? But it’s supposed to be pretty warm today and—“
“These are my gifts to you,” she repeated, pulling up a hand and sticking a mitten on it. I started to take it off, but she stopped me.
“Wear them for me, please?”
Her request made me think of Noah asking me to wear his necklace, and I became uncomfortable. “Ang, they’re nice, but it’s too warm for them right now.”
“It won’t be in a minute. Now go to the courtyard and meet Damien.”
She turned me toward the door and pushed me through. I was immediately blinded by bright light. I had to cover my eyes. The brightness mystified me. I had no idea what could be causing it, and as I waited for my eyes to adjust, I realized that I wanted to zip up my coat as I felt quite cold.
I forced myself to look around, and it seemed my eyes were still messed up. I rubbed them to clear them, but everything was still brightly white. I went to the edge of the sidewalk and toed the snow. It was real. The entire courtyard had been converted into a winter wonderland.
I followed the sidewalk to the center of the courtyard. He was there waiting for me in a red Santa cap and coat. He held out his arms when he saw me. “What do you think?” he said.
I broke into a sprint and ran straight at him. He looked a little nervous as I barreled at him, but I stopped just short of knocking into him.
“You did this?” I said breathing hard.
“Yes?”
I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly. I started bouncing as I looked at all of the snow. “Oh, my gosh! I can’t believe this!”
He had put his arm around me and grabbed my waist to stop my bouncing. “Do you like your Christmas gift?”
I was beyond words excited. I pressed my forehead to his and couldn’t stop giggling. His mouth stretched into a wide smile.
“I did good?” he asked.
I pulled him into the snow. “You did amazing! Let’s build a snowman!”
“Really?”
I was already rolling the first ball. “Yeah, come on! Oh, we need a carrot for the nose. I’ll call Mom and ask her to bring one. This will be such a big surprise for them!”
He sort of froze. “I thought—“ he began, but I held up my hand to stop him so I could speak into my phone. “Hey Mom, can you bring me a carrot in the courtyard? You, Dad, and Cora should all come out here. Wear your winter coats.”
Mom sounded bemused, but she said she would come out.
I turned off my phone and continued rolling the first ball for the snowman. He didn’t join in. “What were you going to say?” I asked.
“I thought it would be only you and me.”
I stopped and looked around the courtyard. “This is too special to keep to ourselves.”
“Maybe but I was hoping to spend some alone time with you.”
I dropped my eyes in embarrassment. “We will. Don’t worry.”
“Is your dad coming out?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Then we’re never going to be alone.”
He was right. Dad did have a finely tuned boy radar. If we tried to slip away, he’d find us.
“I take it back. I like this boyfriend better,” Cora announced.
We turned to watch my parents and Cora join us. Angela was trailing behind them. “They said Sarah called them,” she said apologetically to Damien.
He nodded to let Angela know it was okay. Had he been keeping people out of the courtyard? I peered at the various entries and saw security stationed at each one.
“Let everyone come in to see this,” I said.
“But it’s for you,” he replied.
“And I love it. I’d love it more if I could share it with everyone.”
He grimaced and sent a text. I saw the security guards all check their phones. They moved away from the doors.
“Here’s the carrot,” Mom said.
“We’re not done rolling the snowman yet.”
“You got anything for the mouth and eyes?” she asked.
“I thought we’d find some rocks.”
“You finish rolling him, I’ll find some.”
With Damien’s help, we finished rolling the bottom of the snowman. We did the middle next and then the head. It was fun working with Damien, though I think Dad didn’t like how close we had to work. With all three parts of the snowman done, it was time to decorate him. I stuck the carrot in for his nose and turned to Mom to see what she had for the eyes and mouth. “Here we go,” she said, coming over and handing me some pebbles. I made the face and smiled back at it.
Damien took off his Santa hat and put it on the head.
“These should make good arms,” Dad said, sticking in two branches he’d found.
“He looks good,” I said.
“He looks lonely. We should build him a friend,” Dad said.
In answer, he got a snowball to the face.
Everyone turned to Mom who held another snowball. “Playtime’s over. This is war.”
I grabbed Damien’s hand and made a run for it.
Mom and Dad started pelting each other with snowballs. I was surprised that they’d restrained themselves this long. Whenever there was even a dusting of snow, they would find a way to clobber each other.
I pulled him down to crouch behind a trashcan right as a snowball splat into it.
“Am I allowed to throw snowballs at them?” he asked.
“If someone throws a snowball at you, you’re required to return fire,” I said, shaping a snowball.
“But they’re your parents.”
“Not right now. Now they’re the enemy.”
He still seemed really unsure. “The only person you can’t throw at is Cora since she’s got the walker, which is unfair since she will hit you mercilessly when you’re down.”
Angela let out a squeal from across the sidewalk. She’d gotten a snowball to the back of the head. She swiftly made a snowball and threw it at my dad who’d been the thrower of the other snowball.
I realized that I’d left Damien’s bag of candy out in the fray. I was afraid it would get a snowball or trampled.
“Cover me,” I said.
“Wait, where are you going?”
I broke cover and ran for the bag. Mom and Dad saw me and started firing. I got hit in the shoulder and the back.
He started throwing and pinned Dad down at least, but Mom got me on the thigh as I ran back.
The trashcan was no longer good cover as Angela had moved to flank us. I grabbed Damien’s arm and ran for cover in one of the corner gardens. He let out a shout as we ran. Angela must have gotten him. The shrubs and decorative trees blocked out the others. I hastily brushed off the snow-covered bench before collapsing on it. I was out of breath, and I couldn’t regain it because I was laughing at him.
Half of his hair had been plastered down by a snowball. The snowball was like a wonky beret. I reached over to brush it off, but the mittens Angela had given me made the job difficult. I pulled them off and used my fingers to comb out his hair. Damien, for his part, just stared at me. He seemed to have calmed down a lot quicker than me. He stayed still as I touched his hair. I realized we were alone.
I couldn’t look at his face when I pulled my hand away. I’d gotten my breathing under control, but my heart still pounded, but now for a different reason.
“What is that anyway?” he asked, indicating the gift bag in my lap.
“This is my Christmas gift to you.”
“Really? Let me see.”
I laid a possessive hand over it. “It’s not much.”
“It’s from you. That makes it great.”
His words made my face heat up.
“Do you like cinnamon?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then here,” I said. I reached into the bag and took out a piece of the cinnamon hard candy. I put it between my lips and leaned toward him.
He grinned and leaned over to take it from me with his mouth. His tongue swiped my lips as he did it. He chewed up the candy.
“Can I have another one?” he asked.
I could feel my face redden more. “Don’t want to ruin your lunch.”
“Just one more piece,” he said leaning closer towards me.
I leaned in too. His mouth tasted like cinnamon.
When we broke the kiss, I whispered, “Sorry.”
“For what?” he asked, playing with my hand.
“For bringing out everyone. It is nice when it’s only the two of us.”
He continued to massage my hand. It was funny how that seemed to calm him, but it totally flustered me. “Sarah?”
“Yeah?” I said, but my voice failed midway through the word.
“I love you.”
My heart started pounding again.
“I—“ My voice was still failing. I had to cough to fix it.
“Sarah, Damien, are you hungry?” Dad appeared between the trees.
I could feel my face burning up. Why couldn’t he have waited five more minutes before crashing our moment?
Dad’s face hardened as he noticed how close we were on the bench. He crossed his arms and planted his feet. He was not going to leave without us.
Damien was looking at the ground. There was a fine tension vibrating through him. He took a deep breath and stood up, looking straight ahead. I realized that he didn’t think I was going to say it back to him.
I jumped up and grabbed his coat sleeve. I put my mouth close to his ear. “I love you too,” I whispered then kissed him on the ear.
I turned to give Dad a challenging glare, silently daring him to scold me. Dad had uncrossed his arms and was staring at me in shock, appalled that I’d defied him.
I took Damien’s hand and headed out of the garden. “What are we having for lunch?” I asked placidly.
He avoided looking at my dad. He had the gift bag in his other hand.
“Lasagna. There’s plenty for everyone, but don’t you need to go home, Damien?”
Damien flinched.
“No, he doesn’t,” I said, glaring at Dad.
Dad was not cowed by me. “Damien?” he repeated.
“Not yet, but can Sarah come to Christmas dinner? You’re all invited.”
The invitation surprised both of us.
“Um...” I began not sure how to answer.
“Uh...” Dad said.
“No? That’s okay. I’m glad I got to see you.” He let go of my hand and backed away.
I turned and hit Dad in the arm. He glared at me and rubbed his bicep.
“Stay. It’s only fair if we feed you now if you feed us later.”
Damien looked up tentatively.
“You don’t have to,” he said.
“Don’t care, we want to,” I said.
“Well...” Dad began. I kicked him in the calf. “Yeah, it’ll be great. But have to see what Barbara says.”
Being reminded of Mom made me wince. I would not be able to bully her into going to dinner with the Wests.
We went back to the apartment. Other staff members were discovering the winter wonderland in the courtyard, but it was no longer pristine. We’d made a pretty big mess of it, but it was still snow and it still looked rather pretty.
When we got back to the apartment, Mom checked on the lasagna while we all made the table. Damien and Angela weren’t sure of everything involved in this chore. They could figure out the big things like plates, but laying the utensils and napkins threw them a little. I knew they couldn’t know where everything was in our kitchen, but they acted like they’d never seen salt and pepper shakers before when I put them on the table. Sure, they were a kissing Santa and Mrs. Claus, but still, when Damien asked what they were and I told him, he’d still looked at me blankly. Had they never used shakers before? Did they expect someone to appear at their elbow with a hand grinder and ask them to say when? Maybe that was a bit mean to think, but still, I liked our kissing shakers. Cora had bought them decades ago for her family table and now we used them at ours. They weren’t nice enough to be called heirlooms, but I hoped I was using them when I was serving Christmas dinner when I had a family.
Soon enough we were all nestled around the table. Mom had baked rolls and had made Caesar salad to go with the lasagna. We all ate and talked. It was a warm, friendly meal. When we were done, Dad sat back and patted his stomach. “That was wonderful, Barbara.”
She preened at the compliment.
“I have four different types of pie made up: Pecan, coconut, cherry, and lemon meringue. What would you each like?”
I realized that Dad had not told Mom about Damien’s dinner invitation, the coward. I followed Mom into the kitchen. In a low voice, I said, “Mom, Damien has invited all of us to his house for Christmas dinner.”
“And why would we want to go there?” she asked.
“Because I like him and his parents invited us?”
Mom froze at my words. “You told him yes?”
“We should go.” This seemed like a given to me. I knew my parents weren’t huge fans of the Wests, but rejecting a dinner invitation seemed petty.
“No, we shouldn’t. Sarah, I can’t believe you.” I was surprised by the dismay in her voice.
“Mom, they invited us. It’s polite to accept.”
“No, you do not need to accept an invitation just to be polite. You politely decline.”
“I want to go.”
“Do you?” She asked, and the way she asked it made my heart inexplicably begin racing.
She sighed and came over to give me a comforting hug. “You haven’t thought this through. You’re not merely going to have dinner with Damien and his family, you’ll be going back to the place where you were shot, where you were drugged, where you were kidnapped, imprisoned, and threatened.”
“But it’s his home. I can’t think of it that way.”
“But you can’t pretend nothing happened either.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Fine, you aren’t pretending, but you didn’t think about this. I mean really think about going to the West Estate.”
She had a point. Picturing the central staircase or the dining room had my heart racing. Mr. Jones was gone, but I couldn’t forget what happened.
Now that I’d thought about it, I couldn’t go. Not on my own. “But you and Dad will be with me. It won’t be so bad.”
“I don’t remember saying yes,” she replied.
“Dad said yes.” They had to come with me. I couldn’t go alone.
“I’ll have a word with your father,” she said. I winced, knowing the word wouldn’t be pleasant.
“If you and Dad are with me, it won’t be that bad. Please, we should go.” Sure, Damien and Angela would be with me, but they weren’t my parents. I needed them. I was going to crumble if they weren’t
there.
“You know I don’t respond well to guilt.”
“I’m not trying to guilt-trip you.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes, because if I were trying to guilt-trip you, I would say, ‘Don’t you want to see the Wests and thank them for letting us use their mansion in Hawaii, and you know flying us out and all?’” Mom’s eyes widened and her back-stiffened. I may have spoken a little too brashly. “That is if I were guilt-tripping you,” I tacked on at the end to try to nullify her ire a tiny bit.
She turned her back to me to slice the pies. She butchered the pecan pie. She had to scoop up the mess to get it on the plate. She didn’t have to tell me that the piece was for Dad.
We carried the pie slices in. I gave Damien and Angela their pieces. They’d both chosen cherry pie. I’d picked coconut. Mom gave Cora her piece of lemon meringue and practically dropped Dad’s slice of pecan in front of him, but Dad was being particularly dense. He didn’t notice Mom’s death stare or his mangled slice. I tried to mouth the word dinner at him to clue him in, but he didn’t get it. He misunderstood what I was mouthing at him.
“Sarah, you’re right. These are winners.”
I slumped in disappointment.
“May I speak to you in the hall, David?”
“Can I bring my pie?”
“No.”
Dad finally realized the peril he was in. He got up slowly and followed Mom to the hall. Angela and Damien had picked up on the tension.
“Is there a problem? Should we go?” Angela asked.
“Everything’s fine,” I said, but it was clear that I was lying, especially when Dad gave a muffled “Ow!”
He got up. “Tell your mother I’m sorry. I didn’t really think before I invited you over.”
“No, wait. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Cora’s face had brightened. “We’re invited to the West Estate?”
“Oh no,” I breathed.
Cora was waiting for one of us to answer her, but none of us knew how to reply.
Her face darkened. “We’re invited, but Barbara isn’t letting us go?”
“No, it’s not that,” I said wanting to defend Mom, but I couldn’t really follow up with the particulars about the bad memories of the attack. I didn’t want to make him feel guilty for trying to be nice. “There are other reasons,” I said, willing myself not to glance at Damien.