One Charmed Christmas

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One Charmed Christmas Page 21

by Sheila Roberts


  He considered that. “Okay, and what do you do when you get sick?”

  “I go to urgent care. Or the emergency room.” She’d been there more times than she cared to remember.

  “I have a car and I can drive fast. I can have you at the emergency room in no time.”

  “How about if I couldn’t breathe? What would you do then?”

  His brows drew together. “Are you planning on not being able to breathe anytime soon?”

  “You never know. It’s happened.” Okay, time to tell him. Let him know up front what he might be getting into. “I had asthma bad when I was a kid. I can remember some really scary trips to the emergency room.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  “My doctor said I’m one of the lucky ones and I outgrew it. But I read online that only a third of the people who have it as children do outgrow it. The symptoms can return in adulthood.”

  “But you’re symptom free.”

  She nodded. “So far.”

  “Maybe for the rest of your life.”

  “Maybe,” she conceded.

  “Still, health is a big concern for you.”

  He said it so kindly, was being so understanding, unlike her last boyfriend, who’d told her to get over it and quit being so paranoid. Unlike her family, who all loved her but, when it came right down to it, didn’t take her concerns seriously. Even Sierra, close as they were, didn’t understand about that shadow of fear that lurked at the edge of her life. Not being able to breathe was a terrifying experience, one that was hard to forget.

  “It is,” she said.

  “Understandable. You went through some scary stuff as a kid. But maybe, instead of a doc who has his nurse take your body temperature, what you really need is someone who can keep tabs on your emotional temperature.”

  Now, there was an interesting thought.

  He smiled down at her. “Doctors are arrogant asses. You don’t really want to be with one.”

  “I don’t, huh?” she said. Maybe she didn’t.

  “Anyway, I’ve got something a doctor doesn’t have,” he continued.

  “What?”

  “My own chocolate company. And you know, chocolate makes everything better.”

  He had a point there. Maybe what she really needed was an almost psychologist who owned a chocolate company.

  That maybe leaned closer to for sure when he strolled back to her room with her and kissed her. He had a magic mouth, and his fingers slipping through her hair lit up her nerve endings like holiday lights.

  “You are a good kisser,” she murmured when they finally came up for air.

  “I’m a good everything,” he replied with a grin. Then he gave her nose a playful tap. “Try and dream of me, okay?”

  “I’ll give it my best shot,” she said.

  It wouldn’t be hard. She was warm all over, and boneless. Human syrup, that was what he’d turned her into, she thought as she let herself into the room.

  But the euphoria faded at the sight of her sister. Sierra had left a bedside light on, but she was laid out under the covers, facing away from Sierra. Asleep?

  “Si?” Sophie whispered.

  No answer.

  She crept to the bed and leaned her sister’s direction. “Sierra? Are you okay?”

  Again, no answer. It was a stupid question, anyway. Sophie already knew the answer. Her poor sister.

  Maybe she was wrong about Mark. Maybe things were fine between them and he really had to work. And needing to talk didn’t necessarily mean needing to split up.

  And maybe Santa didn’t wear red.

  Sophie dreamed that night, but not about Trevor. She dreamed Mark was on the ship with them, wearing red underwear and a Santa hat and chasing all the college girls around the ship. Sophie found him at the stern of the boat with an older woman, who was dripping with diamonds, telling her how beautiful she was.

  “I love older women,” he said. “I love all women. Except my wife.”

  “You rat!” she’d said, and pushed him overboard. Ha ha. Drowned rat.

  14

  The ship’s next port of call was Baden-Baden, a spa town in Baden-Württemberg, southwestern Germany, near the border with France. Catherine fell in love with the park-lined Lichentaler Allee, the town’s central promenade, and the Trinkhalle with its loggia decorated with frescoes.

  “You have to taste the water,” Denise said to her when they all stopped at the mineral water fountain. “It’s supposed to have curative powers.”

  If only Catherine could substitute those waters for chemo. She gave it a try. And shuddered.

  “What does it taste like?” Sophie asked her.

  “Dirty socks and salt water.”

  Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Eew. Just. Eew.”

  “Think of all the curative powers,” Denise said to her.

  “Eat chocolate instead,” Trevor joked. “Antioxidants.”

  “You’ve kept us well supplied in those,” Denise told him. “You marvelous man, you.”

  “Uh-oh, I’ve got competition,” Charlie joked.

  But it looked like some of the competition was dropping out. Arnold had fallen away from Denise’s side and was strolling with the group of women he’d sat with at dinner the night before. Denise didn’t appear to be missing him.

  The Christmas market wasn’t huge like the ones in Cologne and Heidelberg, but it was Catherine’s favorite. The wooden booths were all trimmed with greenery and festive lights, and good smells danced on the air along with conversation and laughter of the many shoppers. Tiny snowflakes began to float down like little fairies, adding to the magical atmosphere.

  She treated everyone to Lebkuchen hearts and she and Denise took a selfie next to a life-size wooden nutcracker soldier in his guard booth. She managed to take the walking tour of the city also, and then was pooped.

  But after a nap when they got back on board the ship, she was ready for another gourmet meal in the dining room and some more dancing in the lounge. One more day, she thought as she and Rudy swayed on the dance floor. Why did such wonderful times have to fly by so quickly?

  “I can’t believe it’s already almost at an end,” she said to Denise the next morning as they dressed for their tour of the Black Forest.

  “I don’t think everything’s at an end,” Denise said. “I guarantee you’ll be seeing more of Rudy.”

  Not once she told him what her new year held. She was going to have to tell him. Tonight, she thought miserably.

  Tonight was still a long way off. She’d focus on enjoying today.

  Everyone who had signed up for a bus ride into the Black Forest disembarked the ship to find buses waiting for them. Catherine, Denise and their new friends boarded a bus and clumped together, occupying seats toward the front, Catherine and Denise seated by each other and Rudy and Athena behind them, the rest of the gang in seats on the other side of the aisle.

  It was fun to watch romance blooming between Sophie and Trevor, who were laughing about something as they got on the bus, and Catherine was also happy to see Harriet slide into a seat next to the young man named Hugh. He slung an arm around her as soon as she settled in and she seemed pretty happy about it. Catherine couldn’t help remembering an old rock and roll song that advised if you couldn’t be with the one you loved to love the one you were with. Maybe not such bad advice for Harriet.

  Love was a bit like those old choose-your-own-adventure books Catherine’s kids had enjoyed growing up. One choice took you down one road, another choice took you in a different direction. Remember that, she advised herself. Rudy was a lovely adventure for the moment. She didn’t have to feel badly that this adventure was bound to end. She’d get through chemo and radiation and then she’d choose another adventure, take an enrichment class at her local community college, learn to line dance. Surely her
story wasn’t over yet.

  “It’s so green,” Athena said to her father as the bus wended its way up a mountain road past pines, beech and elm.

  “It makes me think of the Cascades,” Denise said to her. “Let me tell you, there’s no place like Washington.”

  “Never seen much of it,” said Rudy.

  “You’ll have to come visit,” Denise said. “We could show you around,” she added, and Catherine wanted to kick her. She was only making things harder.

  “I’d like that,” he said.

  “Me, too,” said Athena, and Denise rolled her eyes.

  Yes, the guard dog. But after talking to her, Catherine understood. Athena was dedicated and loyal, and hopefully, whatever lucky woman her father wound up with would appreciate that and understand that father and daughter came as a set.

  They finally reached their destination, which was nothing more than a few houses in the middle of nowhere camped around a huge tourist trap. But it was a pretty tourist trap, a large Alpine lodge that, on one level, offered an entire floor of cuckoo clocks and other souvenirs for purchase. The lower level held restrooms and a sort of cafeteria, which was where the visitors would see a Black Forest cherry cake being assembled and then have an opportunity to enjoy a slice.

  First it was time to watch a demonstration on how cuckoo clocks were put together. Catherine wasn’t as interested in that as she was checking out the clocks for sale, and she eventually wandered off, leaving Athena and Rudy to listen.

  The shopping area offered clocks of every imaginable size and price range. Catherine was almost overwhelmed by the selection. Many were styled to look like chalets, with figurines in traditional German garb coming out from inside the clock and circling the miniature balcony to go back in again. Some clocks were carved to represent sawmills, some to look like barns. But the one Catherine fell in love with was a simple, dark wood clock, embellished with carved leaves and birds, with heavy pine cone pendulums, a simple little cuckoo coming out of a tiny door to count the hours.

  “I love this one,” she said to Denise, who had joined her.

  “Sweet and simple.” Denise checked the price tag. “Not a bad price, either.”

  “Do you ship to America?” Catherine asked the salesman.

  “Oh, yes,” he assured her.

  “Then I’ll take it,” she decided. Every time that little cuckoo popped out she’d remember this trip.

  Rudy and Athena joined them. “Did you find something you like?” he asked Catherine.

  “I did,” she replied.

  “I wonder if you’ll like it as well as the clock I bought for you,” Rudy said.

  “Oh, no,” Catherine began, horrified at the thought of him making such a large purchase.

  “You’ll want this one,” Athena said. “He bought me one, too.”

  The minute Rudy produced the little gift bag, Catherine knew what would be in it. Sure enough, it was another charm—a sterling-silver cuckoo clock with tiny, swinging pendulums. How could she refuse, especially when Athena herself was on board with her father’s gesture?

  “Thank you,” she said. “It’s very kind of you.” Even though his daughter had warmed to her, Catherine still felt like a bit of a gold digger and decided she needed to curb the man’s generosity. “But you really don’t need to,” she added.

  “I know. I want to.”

  “Let’s make this the last one, then,” she said.

  Silly thing to say. This was their last stop. The next day they would be disembarking and the magical adventure would be over. Catherine’s smile suddenly tasted bitter. Tonight he’ll talk about seeing you in the future. Tonight you have to tell him what your future holds.

  * * *

  After seeing the clocks, it was on to the cafeteria where the cake demonstration would be held. Sophie’s mouth was already watering as the group of friends settled at a long table near the stage up front where a thin, swarthy man wearing an apron and chef’s toque was setting up his supplies.

  “Is that whipped cream?” she wondered, taking in the giant bowl of white fluff. “Cardiac arrest in a bowl.”

  “But you’d die with a smile on your face,” Sierra said.

  At the rate she was going Sierra was going to eat herself to death. She’d insisted she didn’t want to talk about Mark anymore when Sophie tried to see how she was doing that morning, so Sophie hadn’t pushed. But she was worried all the same.

  The cafeteria filled quickly, with not only people from their bus but from buses sent from other river cruise lines, and soon the room was almost roaring with conversation. Until the chef began his demonstration. Then an awed hush fell over the room.

  Layers of chocolate cake, sprinkled with Kirshwasser, a cherry liqueur, and spread with cherry jam and cherries—the cake was a work of art. And, oh, the whipped cream. The entire huge bowl of it got used.

  As the baker created a chocolate snowstorm, grating chocolate on the top of the cake, Trevor leaned close to Sophie and whispered in her ear, “See? Everything’s better with chocolate.”

  And with Trevor, she thought. She only wished her sister was enjoying the day more. Sierra had been a sport, coming along on this final outing, even managing a smile when one was called for, but Sophie knew her heart wasn’t in it.

  “We have slices for sale for any of you who would like to enjoy one,” the chef finished, causing a stampede for the serving area.

  “You don’t have to call this pig to the trough twice,” Charlie said, getting up. “Let’s go check it out.”

  “You two stay put. This one’s on me,” Trevor said to Sophie and Sierra, and joined the others in the race for cake.

  “Think we should make that for Christmas this year?” Sophie asked Sierra, trying to keep her sister focused on happy thoughts.

  “Do you see our brother being happy if we don’t have red velvet cake?” Sierra replied. “Some traditions you can’t break.”

  Mark liked red velvet cake, too. Was her sister thinking that? Sophie hoped not.

  Trevor returned with their cake, three plates on a plastic serving tray. “Those pieces are ginormous,” Sophie said, looking at them. “I’ll never be able to finish mine.”

  “I will,” said her sister, taking one. “And I’ll eat what you don’t want of yours. Thanks, Trevor.”

  “You girls probably need something to drink, too,” he said. “Coffee or hot chocolate?”

  “Chocolate,” Sierra said for both of them.

  “Good choice,” he approved, and went off again.

  Sophie couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She hated seeing her sister bottling up all her misery. It was always so much better when you could talk about your troubles, feel like someone was sharing the load. When it came to problems, big sister Sierra had always only shared so much. Then she went all stoic...and ate everything in sight.

  “What makes you think I’m not?” Sierra demanded, and stuffed a monster-size piece of cake in her mouth. She chewed and groaned in ecstasy.

  Sophie wasn’t impressed. Every woman knew how to fake it.

  “The way you’ve been eating. You’ve practically single-handedly emptied the cookie bin. Last night you inhaled more at the buffet than Charlie. You took a chocolate overdose in the lounge, and now you’re going to eat a slice of cake the size of the Texas panhandle with enough whipped cream to frost Mount Rainier.”

  “So what? Eating makes me happy. I deserve to be happy.”

  Yes, she did. No sense arguing that point. “I know you only eat like this when you’re upset. You don’t know that you and Mark are through,” Sophie said gently.

  “You’re right, I don’t know. But I know.” Sierra shook her head. “I’ve been in denial, probably for the last year, and I wish I’d never bought this stupid cruise.” She made a face. “Th
at didn’t come out right. I’m glad you’re with me and I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

  Sophie was having a great time. When she wasn’t feeling guilty about it or feeling badly for her sister.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been more supportive.”

  “You have been. You’ve been trying to cheer me up, and you’ve been buying me presents at every port of call like you’re a trust fund baby.”

  “But here I am, partying away when your heart is breaking. You have a really selfish sister.”

  “No, I have a really good sister,” Sierra said, nudging her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

  “Me, too. And I’ll always be with you.”

  “Which is probably more than I can say for my husband.” Sierra stuffed another giant piece of cake in her mouth.

  “If he doesn’t want to stay, then he’s a fool,” Sophie said vehemently. “Just remember that. And he doesn’t deserve you and you’re better off without him.”

  Sierra stared at her plate. “I wish I could feel that way.”

  If only Sierra was jumping to conclusions. But that last text from Mark sure hadn’t looked encouraging. And no “I love you’s,” no “I miss you’s.”

  Trevor was coming their way, bearing three mugs of hot chocolate, grinning like he thought he was Santa Claus. She tried to imagine him ever pulling the stunt Mark had pulled, leaving his wife to take a dream trip without him, and couldn’t. He was simply too good-hearted.

  “Here you go, ladies,” he said, setting the mugs down in front of them. “Drink up.”

  Sierra took a sip of hers. “It’s delicious.”

  “How’s the cake?” he asked, pointing to her half-consumed piece.

  “Amazing,” she said.

  “We are going to completely clog our arteries,” Sophie predicted. But sweets were her Achilles’ heel and she couldn’t resist taking a bite of hers.

  “Oh, who cares?” said her sister. She stuffed more cake in her mouth, closed her eyes and chewed. Then groaned again. “Chocolate orgasm. Better than sex.”

 

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