“About the same.” Twenty-four years ago, when Sabra was still toddling around in diapers, Nils and Marjorie had put up a manufactured home across the front yard from the farmhouse. Marjorie worked wherever she was needed. She raised goats and chickens and she ran the farm’s fresh flower business. She sold gorgeous bunches of them at local markets and also to several florist shops in the area. “She runs me ragged.” Nils put on a long-suffering look.
Sabra smiled at that. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Humph,” said Nils, meaning yes. He liked to play it grumpy sometimes, but everyone knew how much he loved his wife.
“I missed her this morning when I drove in.” Sabra gestured toward the two guest chairs opposite the desk. Nils followed her over there and they sat down.
“You know how she is,” said Nils. “Up with the roosters, ready to work.”
“I know. I’ll catch her this evening.”
“Come for dinner?”
“I’ll be there.”
He reached across the short distance between them to put his wrinkled, work-roughened hand over hers. “How’re you holdin’ up?”
Her throat ached, suddenly, the ache of tears. She gulped them down. “All right.”
He shook his head. “Pumpkin, you were his shining light.”
She sniffed and sat up straighter. “No. Mom was that. But he was a good dad. The best.” And I should have been here for him.
Nils gave her hand a squeeze before pulling back. “So. We’re gonna talk business now, is that it?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Good. When are you coming home to stay?”
That lump in her throat? It was bigger than ever. “Well, I, um...”
Nils got the message. “You’re not coming home.” He said it flatly, his disappointment clear.
“I just, well, I hope you and Marjorie will stay on.”
“Of course we will.”
“We’ll change our arrangement. I will drive up every couple of weeks, to keep on top of things. But you’ll be running the place. Both you and Marjorie will be getting more money.”
“Pumpkin, I got no doubt you will be fair with us. That’s not the question. It’s about you.”
“Nils, I—”
“No. Now, you hear me out. You are a Bond, a farmer to the core. You were born to run Berry Bog Farm. I just want you to think on it. You belong here with us. Won’t you come home at last?”
“I’m just, well, I’m not ready to do that and I don’t know when I will be ready.”
What she didn’t tell him was that she was considering putting the farm up for sale. She would tell him, of course, as soon as she’d made up her mind.
Right now, though?
She felt she ought to sell, that she would never be able to come back and live here, that just showing up every few weeks to go over the books and handle any necessary business was almost more than she could bear. There were far too many memories here, from happy through bittersweet all the way to devastating.
So yeah. She ought to sell. If she did, she would see to it that Nils and Marjorie were provided for. But no matter how much she settled on them, they wouldn’t be happy if she sold the place. The farm was their home.
And really, she couldn’t stand the thought of that, either, of letting the land that was her heritage go.
Which left her in a bleak limbo of grief and indecision.
Later, in the evening, after dinner with the Wilsons, she trudged upstairs to her dad’s room and tackled packing up his things. As she cleaned out his closet, her thoughts turned to Matthias. She missed him. She ached to have a long talk with him, to feel his muscled arms around her. Life would be so much more bearable if she could have him near.
She paused, her head in the closet, one of her dad’s plaid jackets in her hands—a Pendleton, red and black. Adam Bond had always been a sucker for a nice Pendleton. Shirts, jackets, coats, you name it. He had a lot of them. They were excellent quality. People knew he liked them and gave them to him for Christmas and his birthday.
A sob stuck in her throat because he would never wear his Pendletons again.
Backing out of the closet with the jacket in her hand, she sank to the edge of the bed, putting her palm down flat on the wedding ring quilt her mom had made before Sabra was even a twinkle in her dad’s eye.
Idly, she traced the circular stitching in the quilt, thinking of Matthias—his blue, blue eyes, his beautiful, reluctant smile. The way he held her, sometimes hard and tight, like he wanted to absorb her body into his. And sometimes so tenderly, with a deep, true sort of care.
Really, it wouldn’t be difficult at all to track him down. He worked for the Department of Fish and Wildlife locally and he had a big family in Valentine Bay.
Would he be angry with her for breaking their rules?
Or would he hold out his arms to her and gather her close? Would he say how happy he was that she’d come to find him? Would he promise her that eventually this grayness would pass, that things would get better and life would make sense again?
She laughed out loud to the empty room, a hard, unhappy sound.
Because she was being sloppy and sentimental. She wasn’t going to contact him. She and Matthias had what they had. It was tenuous and magical and only for Christmas.
No way would she ruin it by trying to make it more.
That July...
Matt had two remaining relatives on his mother’s side of the family—Great-Uncle Percy Valentine, who’d given him the cabin, and Percy’s sister, Great-Aunt Daffodil Valentine.
In their eighties, the never-married brother and sister lived at Valentine House on the edge of Valentine City Park. Matt found his great-aunt and uncle charming and eccentric, sharp-witted and no-nonsense. Daffy and Percy came to all the big family gatherings. But Matt made it a point to drop by and see them at home now and then, too.
He always brought takeout when he came. This time, Daffy had requested “Bacon cheeseburgers with the works, young man.”
Matt knew how to take an order and arrived bearing grease-spotted white bags from a Valentine Bay landmark, Raeleen’s Roadside Grill. He’d brought the cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings and milkshakes—chocolate for him and Daffy, vanilla for Uncle Percy.
Letha March, who’d been cooking and cleaning at Valentine House for as long as Matt could remember, answered the door and ushered him and Zoya into the formal parlor, which contained too much antique furniture, an ugly floral-pattered rug, and his great-aunt and uncle.
“You got Raeleen’s!” Daffy clapped her wrinkled hands in delight. “You always were my favorite great-nephew.”
“Aunt Daffy, I know you say that to all of us.”
Daffy patted his cheek and smiled up at him fondly as Percy bent to greet Zoya. Letha got out the TV trays so they could chow down right there in the parlor the way they always did.
As they ate, Uncle Percy reported on his progress with the search for Finn. Percy, who often referred to himself as “the family sleuth,” had been in charge of the search from the beginning. He worked with private investigators, a series of them. Each PI would find out what he or she could and turn in a report. And then Percy would hire someone else to try again. Each investigator got the benefit of the information his predecessors had uncovered. For all the years of searching, they hadn’t found much.
But Percy would never give up. And he and Matt had agreed that when, for whatever reason, Percy could no longer run the search, Matt would step up.
“So there you have it,” Percy concluded. “As usual, it’s not a lot.”
Matt thanked him and they made encouraging noises at each other in order not to get too discouraged. No matter how hopeless it seemed sometimes, the worst thing would be to give up and stop looking.
Daffy slipped Zoya a French fry.
“Now tell us what is happening in your life, Matthias.” She and Percy always called him by his full name.
Same as Sabra did.
Sabra.
He’d been thinking of her constantly. He wanted more time with her, wanted to take it beyond the cabin, make it real between them. They could go slow. She was in Portland, after all. They would have to make some effort to be together.
But he was willing. He wanted to be with her. Whatever it took.
“What is that faraway look in your eye?” asked Uncle Percy.
Matt shocked the hell out of himself by telling them the truth. “I’ve met someone. Her name is Sabra Bond. Born and raised on a farm near Astoria. Now she manages a restaurant in Portland. She has dark hair and big brown eyes and she’s smart and funny and tough and beautiful. I’m crazy about her.”
He told them how and when he’d met her and about the two Christmases they’d spent together at the cabin. He even explained about the agreement—just the two of them, just for Christmas, no contact otherwise.
“But you want more,” said Aunt Daffy.
“I do, yeah.”
“It does my old heart good,” said Uncle Percy, “to see you coming back from all you’ve been through.”
Daffy gave a slow nod. “You are truly healing, Matthias, and that is a beautiful thing to see.”
Uncle Percy reached over and clapped a hand on his arm. “Finding yourself, that’s what you’re doing. Didn’t I tell you that you would?”
“Yes, you did.”
“We’re so happy for you,” cried Daffy.
“I just... I’m not sure how to try for more with her, not sure how to ask her, not sure what to say.”
“Just speak from your heart,” advised Daffy. “The specific words will come to you, as long as you show your true self and tell her clearly what you want.”
Percy added, “Be honest and forthright and it will all work out.”
Later that night, at home, Matt considered taking Percy’s advice to heart immediately. How hard could it be to find her, really? Online searches aside, there were only so many farms on the outskirts of Astoria.
But then, well, no.
Stalking the woman wasn’t part of their deal.
Being patient wouldn’t kill him. He would wait for Christmas and pray she showed up this year, too.
Matt marked another X on his calendar, bringing him one day closer to seeing her again.
That September...
“Come on, man.” Jerry tipped his head toward the dark-haired woman three tables over. “She’s a knockout and she likes you. What are you saving it for, I’d just like to know?” It was yet another Friday night at Beach Street Brews and as always, Jerry was after him to hook up with someone.
Matt wondered why he’d come. “Cut it out, Jer. Let me enjoy my beer.” Matt needed that beer. He also needed not to be hassled while drinking it.
A week before, his brother Daniel’s wife Lillie had given birth to twins, Jake and Frannie. The twins were fine, but two days after the birth, Lillie had died from complications mostly due to lupus. It was a tough time in the Bravo family.
And the last thing Matt needed right now was a night with a stranger.
Jerry poured himself another glass from the pitcher on the table between them. “This is getting ridiculous. I’ve gotta meet your holiday hookup, see what’s so special you’re willing to go all year without—”
“Drop it, Jerry.” Matt turned and looked his aggravating friend squarely in the eye. “Just let it go.”
“I don’t get it. That’s all I’m sayin’.”
“Yeah, well. You’ve said it. Repeatedly. I heard you. Stop.”
“It’s not healthy to—”
“That does it.” Matt shoved back his chair. “I’m outta here.”
“Aw, c’mon, man. Don’t get mad.”
“You have fun, Jerry.” Matt threw some bills on the table.
Jerry looked kind of crestfallen. “Listen. I’m sorry. I’ve got a big mouth, I know. I should try to keep a lid on it.”
“Yeah, you should—and you’re forgiven.”
“Great. C’mon, stay.”
He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Gotta go.”
“So...maybe I should make a move on her?” Jerry gave the dark-haired woman a wave.
Matt just shook his head and made for the door.
Three months left until Christmas at the cabin. Losing Lillie really had him thinking that life flew by way too fast, that everything could change when you least expected it and a man needed to grab what he wanted and hold on tight.
This year, if Sabra showed up, he was not letting her go without asking for more.
December 23, two years ago...
She was already there!
Matt saw the lights gleaming from the cabin windows at the same turn where he’d spotted them two years before. His heart seemed to leap upward in his chest and lodge squarely in his throat. His pulse raced, gladness burning along every nerve in his body as he rounded the next turn and the turn after that.
The front door swung open as he rolled into the yard and pulled to a stop behind the Subaru.
Sabra emerged dressed in a long black sweater and leggings printed with reindeer and snowflakes, knee-high boots on her feet. Her hair was longer this time, the dark curls loose on her shoulders. He couldn’t wait to get his hands in them.
Shoving the car into Park, he turned off the engine, threw the door wide and jumped out to catch her as she hurled herself into his outstretched arms.
“At last,” they whispered in unison.
And then he was kissing her, breathing in her sweet, incomparable scent, going deep, hard and hungry. She laughed as he angled his mouth the other way and she jumped up, lifting those fine legs and wrapping them good and tight around him, her arms twined behind his neck.
He was halfway up the steps, devouring her mouth as he went, before she broke their lip-lock and started to speak. “I’m so—”
“Get back here.” He cradled her head, holding her still so he could claim those beautiful lips again.
Before he crashed into her that time, she got a single word out. “Zoya?”
He groaned, gentled his hold and pressed his forehead to hers. “See what you do to me? I almost forgot my own dog.”
She took his face between her hands and offered eagerly, “One more kiss?”
He gave it to her, long and deep, turning as he kissed her, heading back down the steps. She dropped her feet to the ground at the back of the vehicle. He let her go reluctantly and opened the hatch. Zoya rose in her crate, stretching and yawning. “Sorry, girl,” he muttered. Behind him, he heard Sabra chuckle. “C’mon out.” He opened the crate and helped the husky down to the ground.
“Zoya! It’s so good to see you.” Sabra knelt to greet her, scratching her ruff, giving her long strokes down her back as Zoya whined and wriggled with happiness. “I’ve missed you so much...”
Matt waited impatiently for her to finish her reunion with his dog. When she finally rose, he reached for her again.
She danced away, laughing, her gaze on the tree tied to the roof rack. “I swear, you found a thicker tree than last year. So gorgeous...”
“Just beautiful,” he agreed. He wasn’t referring to the tree. Catching her elbow, he pulled her close again. “So then. Where were we?”
Those dark eyes held a teasing light. “We should bring it in, put it in water and—”
With a growl, he covered her sweet mouth with his, taking her by the waist and then lifting her. She got the hint, surrendering her mouth to him as she wrapped her legs and arms around him again.
He carried her up the steps and in the door without stopping that time, counting on Zoya to stick close behind. As soon as they cleared the threshold, Sabra stuck out a h
and and shoved the door shut.
Reluctantly, he lifted his mouth from hers, noting that not only had she gotten the fire going, she’d set out water for Zoya. The dog was already lapping it up.
“Oh, I cannot believe you’re actually here.” Her smile could light up the darkest corner of the blackest night.
“It’s been too long,” he grumbled.
“Oh, yes it has.” She caught his lower lip between her pretty teeth and bit down lightly, sending heat and need flaring even higher within him.
“That does it,” he muttered. “We’re going upstairs.”
“Yes,” she replied, suddenly earnest. “Now, Matthias. Please.”
He told Zoya to stay and started walking, carrying her up there, kissing her the whole way.
At the bed, she clung to him. He started undressing her anyway, pulling her long sweater up and away, not even pausing to give her lacy purple bra the attention it deserved, just unhooking it, ripping the straps down and whipping it off her, revealing those beautiful high pink-tipped breasts. “Everything. Off,” he commanded, peeling her legs from around him, setting her down on the mattress.
She didn’t argue. He stripped and she stripped. In a short chain of heated seconds, they were both naked. He went down to the bed with her, grabbing for her, gathering her close.
This was no time to play.
It had been way too long and he couldn’t wait. Lucky for him, she seemed to feel the same.
“Hurry,” she egged him on. “I have missed you so much...”
He touched the heart of her: soaking wet, so ready.
“Yes,” she begged him. “Please. I want you now.”
With a groan, he stuck out a hand for the bedside drawer.
She curled her fingers tightly around him, bringing a rough moan of pure need from him as she held his aching length in place. He rolled the condom halfway on and she took over, snugging it all the way down.
That did it. He was not waiting for one second longer.
Taking her by the shoulders, he rolled her under him, easing his thigh between hers and coming into her with a single deep thrust.
Same Time, Next Christmas (The Bravos 0f Valentine Bay Book 3) Page 11