MAGPIE

  Bill arrived at nine o’clock the next morning, excited to spend a day in my kitchen, listening to music, sipping Prosecco and creating epicurean delights that would later delight dear friends and family. I’d been up for several hours, having prepared the kitchen for our culinary marathon. A silly mood overcame me, and I pulled out a dated Christmas sweater, hoping to encourage the spirit of the season. Knowing the kitchen would become too hot for a sweater, I hung a crisp white blouse on the door handle to my bedroom for a quick change.

  Bill’s arms were brimming with brown paper bags and a huge bunch of flowers when he arrived, so I quickly ushered him into the house and helped unload the bounty. The flowers were nothing short of spectacular; I’d have to rethink where to place mine. One bag contained three bottles of wine and another held several brightly wrapped packages.

  “What’s this?” I asked demurely.

  “Oh those? Just a little something for Cody,” he joked as I moved in to slug his arm. “Ouch! What was that for?”

  I stepped in a little closer and kissed him on the cheek—an apology of sorts. He held my chin and stared into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Saying nothing, his kissed me on the mouth with a mixture of heat and tenderness.

  “Wow, what was that for?” I whispered with my eyes half shut.

  “Does a simple boy need a reason to kiss a beautiful girl?” Bill turned on his heels and put the bag of presents on the dining table. He stacked the wine on a small, artsy rack Tina had given me a few years back, and asked, “Have any coffee?”

  I was miffed by the way he brushed off the beautiful kiss we shared, but I quickly decided not to dwell on it. Overthinking had always gotten me into trouble, and I wasn’t going to let it spoil the day.

  “Of course I do, I’m a java junky.” Passing over my green mug, I grabbed one from my earthenware set and poured him an almost full cup. I knew he took cream and sugar and left enough room for his liking.

  The breakfast bar had been transformed into a Thanksgiving War Room, holding the primary menu, with a scattering of recipes from foodie websites I’d printed out the week before.

  “Holy cow, Mags.” Bill was nothing short of impressed.

  I smiled, having conquered the first of many prep day battles.

  I mixed a couple of mimosas, adding interest with a splash of pomegranate liqueur and topping the concoction with plump blackberries.

  Clinking our glasses, we said in unison, “Cheers!”

  ***

  Bill and I didn’t stop until the last dish was dried and put away. We’d done very well for a day’s work and had completed everything on my list: A perfectly executed vat of butternut squash soup; twelve baked sweet potatoes that would be twice baked and properly dressed tomorrow; roasted red and yellow beets, the main ingredient for an arugula, goat cheese and roasted beet salad; two dozen honey-glazed whole-wheat dinner rolls (from scratch, of course); and a huge loaf of bread that we left out to dry for the stuffing we’d prepare tomorrow. Bill demonstrated his expertise with a knife and chopped all the remaining vegetables, storing them in plastic containers for the final product the following day.

  Satisfied with our work, we plopped on the sofa; herbal tea had replaced Prosecco, and we sipped in silence. I hadn’t noticed that Bill was holding my free hand until I got up to feed Cody.

  Groggily, Bill asked, “Where you off to, honey?”

  “Poor Cody has been drooling over the smells coming out of the kitchen all day; if I don’t feed him soon, he’ll really begin to protest, probably aimed at you.” I kidded. After I poured the kibble, I noticed Bill was up from the sofa, looking for his coat.

  Joshing, I said, “Oh no you don’t! Sit back down, we haven’t discussed the contents of the bag that has been sitting in full view of me all evening.”

  “Mags, I’m afraid if I stay, I won’t be able to control myself. Seriously, the time we spent in the kitchen today might as well have been time spent in the bedroom. If I may say so…I’ve been horny as hell since walking through your front door.” Bill was more animated than usual, and I sensed an intensity that hadn’t surfaced until now.

  A slow sigh escaped my mouth as I recalled how we navigated the small kitchen, pressing against each other as we slipped by to get to the other side. I closed my eyes, visualizing our hands kneading the bread dough, and inhaled deeply.

  Shaking me from my suggestive trance, Bill asked, “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine. I just hate awkward moments like these.”

  I moved to fetch Bill’s coat when he took my arm and pulled me back. He kissed me hard, and I returned it. We stayed locked right where we stood, kissing deeply and exploring each other’s bodies, as much as we could through our heavy clothes.

  Pulling back just a bit, I murmured, “Stay, Bill, please.”

  With no further words, Bill led me to the bedroom, where he slowly began undressing me. I’d wanted to shower after a hot and sweaty day in the kitchen, but the urge to remain in Bill’s arms outweighed anything else.

  Devouring my naked body with his eyes, he began to undressed himself. I attempted to unbutton his shirt, but he moved me to the bed, standing over me while removing the rest of his clothes. The full moon shining through my window, I traced his muscular body with my eyes. Bill was exceptionally handsome and, as expected, built to perfection. He moved confidently and gently eased himself on top of me.

  Lost in the moment, we kissed softly, exploring each other. Bill’s mouth moved from my neck to my breasts, tickling my nipples with his tongue. Moaning and twisting, I was unable to hold back. His tongue traced a line to my navel and continued in a straight line to my very wet and swollen pussy. I spread my legs with anticipation and lost all control when he found my throbbing clit. With amazing proficiency, he flicked, sucked and licked me until I came with a ferocity rarely experienced. I shuddered with a mixture of ecstasy and pleasure, verging on pain. Before I could catch my breath, his stretched cock found me, moving with a masculine grace I’d never experienced.

  Bill’s orgasm mirrored how he made love—assertive and to a degree, refined. Our relationship transformed that night: Formerly agreeable companions, we’d turned a crucial corner, converting to red-hot lovers.

  A few minutes passed when he leaned up and smiled, saying nothing. I smiled back and, in one swift move, flipped me over, so I was sitting on top of him. Still wet with his cum, I rubbed against his spent cock, slowly at first, feeling it harden with each motion. He made no attempt to move; he was my sex toy, and I played freely. I came for a second time, collapsing on top of him. Moments later, I slid off to one side and lay there, extremely satisfied—sexually and emotionally.

  Stroking my hair, he instinctively began twisting a few curls, and whispered, “Good night, beautiful Maggie.”

  I nuzzled into his chest and said, “It has been, hasn’t it?”

  My feelings of appreciation and affection welling, I remembered it was the day before we’d be celebrating Thanksgiving with my closest friends and family.

  BOOK 4

  Winter

  CHAPTER 10

  Winter’s Solace

  As children, Katie and I drove our folks crazy for the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Their tolerance for our restless antics withered like December’s daylight. By the time winter break rolled around, Mom and Dad had given up on any semblance of household structure and played along with our childish enthusiasm. We drove around surrounding neighborhoods every night in search of the best Christmas lights and front-lawn decorations. When they dried up, Dad trolled country roads looking for old barns outlined in soft, off-white lights and brightly lit Christmas trees framed by large farmhouse windows.

  Katie and I anticipated the end of those outings almost as much as Christmas morning. Mom made hot cocoa and topped each mug with mini marshmallows, while Dad set out to decorate our own house, and though we never won any prizes, we delighted in his creations. Looking back, Norman Rockwe
ll could have found his inspiration for his holiday art from our small, Western Slope town and all the genuine people who enriched its charm.

  When Jack and I were married, I attempted to replicate my childhood Christmases by bringing out some of the old decorations my parents divvied up between Katie and me. I followed Mom’s recipes to a T and made a beautiful Christmas quilt designed after my grandmother’s that won First Prize at the Saint Mark’s Catholic Church Holiday Bazaar shortly after World War II. I played Christmas carols sung by the likes of Gene Autry, Andy Williams, Perry Como and Doris Day. But it wasn’t until Michael was born that Christmas took on a whole new meaning in the Garrett household.

  Jack and I’d kept some of the old decorations, but made it a point to create new ones each year. Cranberry and popcorn garland draped our old oak handrail; silver and gold snowflake cut outs dotted our windows; and tree ornaments—made from anything and everything—cluttered every branch of our fresh-cut tree.

  One year, Katie gave us a Christmas cookie cookbook, a familiar fixture on the kitchen counter from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. Plopping Michael on the counter, I’d begin the ritual of making cookies for every member of our family…and then some. I’d find cute tins on sale at various shops throughout the year, but it was the goodies inside the containers our relatives longed for. Over time, Michael took the lead and developed a few recipes of his own. By the time he was twelve, I’d backed off altogether and assumed the role of dishwasher, but mostly head taster. Torn and tattered, my treasured book was no longer usable, yet I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

  Year after year, love and laughter engulfed the Garrett holidays; moments held together with unbreakable family ties. When Jack and Michael died, so did our holiday traditions—paraphernalia forever stowed in plastic storage boxes in the farthest corner of the basement; memories tucked equally as far.

  ***

  Three weeks before Christmas, Carrie called. She and her new husband had originally planned a Christmas holiday at Disney World, which had cut into my winter break with Timmy and Lisbeth. I accepted their plans with resignation, recognizing that the Garrett connection to Michael’s family was ebbing. Carrie’s call made me wince and, before I answered, I braced myself. I didn’t expect what I heard and secretly rejoiced as she asked if I were willing to watch the twins for a week while they honeymooned in Mexico. The call was awkward, but we moved through it; I needed time to deal with their new arrangement.

  My grandkids were scheduled to arrive on December 21 I was ecstatic and made three frantic loops around my house before I was able to stop and think about what needed to be done in the upcoming weeks. The first thing I did was make a list:

  Tree—real or fake?

  Decorations—buy new?

  Cookies—find the cookbook and fix it!

  Xmas eve get together—call Katie!!

  I hadn’t celebrated Christmas in my home since Jack and Michael died. I either drove to Mom and Dad’s, weather permitting, or hung out at Katie’s with her friends. The first few years I stayed at home, not wanting to see anyone who’d be tempted to say, “Don’t worry, it’ll get better over time.”

  How the fuck would any of you know?

  After seven years though, I missed it—Christmas music blaring throughout the house, smells of pumpkin bread wafting from my kitchen, and decorations adorning every square inch of my home. I was determined to bring Christmas back with gusto.

  Having a little over two weeks to get the house in order didn’t make me flinch one bit. Any other time, hives would have broken out over fifty percent of my body. I knew Katie would be on board with planning a Christmas Eve gathering and wouldn’t balk at shopping for gifts ordinarily impossible (or too expensive) to ship to California, giving me added comfort. Playing it safe, however, I took the day off so I could get a head start.

  It was the first Friday in December; three and four-day weekends were common around the office. I opened my laptop to logon to my work’s private network and quickly drafted an email to my boss, letting her know I’d be taking a personal day. A second request for five vacation days over Christmas followed, and I tossed in the fact that my grandkids would be visiting, hoping to cajole a little empathy. I didn’t expect a personal response; she’d approve my request electronically and ask about their holiday visit sometime in late January.

  I made a mental note to re-insert “look for new job” on my crumpled list that I’d tacked to the kitchen bulletin board after retrieving it from the trash...on more than one occasion. The need to move on professionally no longer was driven by fluctuating conditions (or emotions); I’d hit a wall under her leadership and I knew it was time to make a change.

  Next, I called Katie. It was a little after ten o’clock, and I hoped she was still awake. Surprisingly, the late sleeper picked up on the first ring and, before she could say anything, I yelled, “Guess who’s coming for Christmas?”

  “Hmmm—a boyfriend?” Katie said in a teasing sort of way.

  “Nope! One more try.”

  “Well, in that case… the twins?”

  “You got it! I was sure the twins would never come for Christmas, but Carrie and her new husband are taking a honeymoon. Totally works for me!” I was pacing my kitchen floor and could hardly contain my excitement.

  Katie piped in, “So, what’s the plan, sis?”

  ***

  I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to bother Bill this late, so I texted Daniel,

  Today, 11:07 PM

  MAGS: U up?

  DANIEL: Ya, reading, what’s up?

  MAGS: Great news! gkids coming for xmas!

  DANIEL: I’m so happy for you! i know u miss them

  MAGS: Ya, I’m so excited I can’t sleep

  DANIEL: Hmm…

  MAGS: Hmm indeed

  Daniel and I hadn’t exchanged texts, calls or emails recently. He’d met a wonderful woman online, and I’d been dating Bill exclusively since the night of our drive to the hills. Still, it warmed me to connect with him. Aside from well-needed orgasm, I missed Danny’s voice and way with words—sexual and otherwise. I considered him to be a good friend, and I didn’t want to lose track. I felt a pang of guilt after sexting with him.

  For a man who’d never laid eyes or hands on me—hell, who’d never laid me—Daniel was a master. We’d stopped swapping pictures months ago yet I was able to easily recall his cock while listening to him describe kissing and licking me all over. I came hard and so did he. We said our goodbyes, and as I turned over on my side, I pulled my duvet up under my chin to keep the December chill out and Daniel’s heat in.

  I woke to Cody’s hot breath in my face. Year after year, he’d pounce on the bed with puppy-like enthusiasm, rousing us early in the morning, which amused Jack more than me. Silly canine antics slowed after our bed for two became a setting for one, and I often wondered if Cody sensed it would hurt me too much to keep it up. Anthropomorphizing our dog used to make Jack laugh; now it just makes me wonder if I’m losing my mind.

  “Cody, get your stinky breath away from me!” I pushed his face gently away and sat up, scanning the floor for my slippers. “What’s all this about, buddy?”

  We made our way into the kitchen and, horrified, I realized I’d forgotten to feed him last night. All the commotion of the twin’s trip for Christmas interrupted my routine and poor Cody was the unsuspecting victim.

  “I have no excuse, buddy, I’m a terrible mom! I am going to make you eggs for breakfast, maybe even some bacon! Does that sound like a plan?” Words meant nothing to Cody; my inflection, on the other hand, made him and jump and twirl as if he were a pup.

  I figured I’d break my routine of eating oats and join Cody. I scrambled four eggs and fried four slices of thick cut bacon causing Cody to drool uncontrollably; I kept my excess saliva in check. Just as I sat down to enjoy the scrumptious concoction, my phone buzzed with a call. It was Bill, and my heart leaped. I’d grown so fond of him.

  We decided to let our rel
ationship develop slowly. We didn’t force anything and took our time getting to know each other. Bill and I talked openly about our past lives, yet I hadn’t disclosed my virtual relationship with Daniel. There were a few opportunities early on, but I just didn’t know how to explain it. I held this secret very close and I didn’t share it with anyone, even my sister.

  Exuberantly, I answered, “Hey you, how are you this fine wintery morning?”

  “Wow! What did you put in your coffee?” Bill said jokingly.

  “What do you mean? I’m always this chipper.” I was grinning from ear to ear, waiting for the chance to tell him about the twins.

  “I will admit you are a cheerful gal, but there is something going on and I want in.”

  “Bill, I am so excited, my grandkids, the twins, are coming for Christmas. I got a call from their mom yesterday, and I haven’t been able think straight since, I am ecstatic!”

  Sensing my growing excitement, Bill interjected, “Hey, slow down! Tell you what, why don’t I bring you a latte, and you can tell me everything in person? Maybe I can keep you from falling off the barstool.” We laughed together, and I asked him to give me thirty minutes.

  Thirty-three minutes later, Bill knocked at the side door. After the first night we spent together, an ease set in that eliminated the need for his front door calling. I waved him in, and he gave me a big hug and a sweet peck on the check.

  “Morning, sunshine,” he said as he fluffed my tousled hair. Patting my ass as I moved passed, he mumbled, “Mmm, love your bum, it’s so…round.”

  “My ‘bum’ is off limits and my hair doesn’t need any more volume, thank you very much. And I hope, for your sake, ‘round’ is a compliment,” I kidded. “Thanks for the latte, by the way.”

  “Oh, but it is…” This time, he squeezed my ass with purpose.

  Another peck and I said, “Off limits…for now, mister. So here’s the list I’ve made so far…” I went right into planning mode, which tickled Bill, and he leaned in with genuine interest.