Winter Hearts

by A. E. Radley

  Jess shrugged and Nat let out another chuckle. “The perfect all-American boy.”

  “Exactly. My parents were smitten with him and I can’t blame them. By comparison, I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps, running the farm, and just being a homebody. Jeremy had these grand plans and intentions, so losing him was like…” Her enthusiasm faltered. “It was like seeing every star in the sky go out at the same time.”

  “It’s no wonder your parents couldn’t deal with that.” Nat laced her fingers together and looked down at them, twiddling her thumbs. “So, everything I did was the opposite of helpful. Instead of pushing you guys together, my stupid plan shoved you further apart.”

  Jess nibbled at her lower lip as she pondered Nat’s words. “At the very least, it’s going to make for one heck of an awkward Christmas Eve tomorrow.” Nat grimaced, but Jess reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “It’s okay. If my parents leave, they leave. Whatever happens, I’ll be here with you.”

  “Okay.” When Jess drew her hand down along Nat’s arm, her fiancée responded by letting go of her own fingers and reaching for hers, instead. There, in the just-warm-enough greenhouse, smelling of earth and life, even in the middle of winter, Jess kissed her. “Maybe this isn’t the best place to do this,” she murmured when they parted.

  “Probably not. Let’s get inside.” Nat tilted her head toward the door and they stepped outside together. As Jess turned to close the greenhouse door, she heard Nat gasp. “Look at that!”

  Jess spun and looked at where Nat pointed, in the sky just above the trees. Streaks of white descended among the multitude of stars for a brief moment. And then, nothing.

  “What was that?”

  “You’d probably call it a shooting star, but that’s the remnants of the Geminids Meteor Shower. They’re usually done by the seventeenth or so of December. It’s nice if you can get a peek at them.” Jess glanced at Nat’s upturned face, so beautiful in the distant light.

  “So maybe,” Nat said, “Jeremy’s death was like every star in the sky going dark, but at least his life was like one of those meteors – brilliant and fleeting, and you’re lucky you got to see it.”

  “Yeah.” All it took were those words to have tears building in Jess’s eyes again. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  Nat turned to her, blinking. “You know, I once read something to the effect of ‘Grief is just love with no place to go,’ and I think that’s true. You will always love him and what hurts about it is he’s not here to receive it, and you can’t change any of that.”

  “That…” Jess dragged in a shuddering breath. “That sounds about right.”

  And if she had thought she’d wrung every last tear from her soul, she found out at that moment how wrong she was as she fell into Nat’s arms and let them flow.

  CHAPTER 8

  Nat knew they’d hit bottom last night, but at least she and Jess had come to an understanding. Even now, they lay together in bed, limbs entangled, breathing matched. She used her fingers to gently push the hair away from Jess’s face and then placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

  Slowly, Jess opened her eyes and smiled at her. “Hey,” she mumbled, her voice rough with sleep.

  “Hey back.” Nat gathered her close and sighed. “What do you think today’s going to be like?”

  “Like any other Christmas Eve, except with my parents calling for a ride to the airport.” Jess nuzzled her hair. “You got to me, Nat, if that helps at all. You made me talk about Jeremy and how much I miss him, and I have to say I feel better for it.”

  It was something and Nat nodded. “I guess parents are a tougher sell.”

  “A little bit, yeah. That’s okay, though. Once they leave, we’ll do our own thing and move forward from here. That’s all we can do.” Jess finally rolled aside to get out of bed and, with reluctance, Nat did the same.

  Once they were dressed, Jess cracked the door open and Nat saw her brow knit. “Do you smell what I smell?”

  Nat tiptoed across the bedroom to join her fiancée. Sure enough, her nose picked up a familiar, savory scent. “Is that bacon?”

  “And coffee.”

  “Well, the pot comes on every morning at five, anyway.”

  “Yeah, but the bacon?” Jess nodded toward the staircase and led the way.

  Nat couldn’t fight the rising sensation of dread in her stomach. If the Morgans were still here, that meant a confrontation. One, she realized, she should have expected but hadn’t prepared for regardless.

  Sure enough, Mrs. Morgan was in the kitchen, moving around with familiarity as bacon sizzled in a cast iron pan on the stove. The back door opened as Jess and Nat stood there, watching while Mr. Morgan walked in, kicking snow off his boots.

  “The chickens are fed and watered,” he told them, unfurling the scarf from around his neck. “That Orpington one sure is sociable. What’s her name?”

  “Essie,” Nat answered automatically. “Esmerelda, but we call her Essie.”

  Mr. Morgan nodded. “Well, she’s a good hen. All of them are. Here are this morning’s eggs.” He set the basket on the counter next to where his wife was working, and she turned and smiled at him.

  Smiled.

  It was the first smile Nat had seen cross the woman’s face since they arrived a few days ago. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Nat ventured, still not quite sure she wanted to step into the kitchen. The scene was just too surreal, especially after the pain everyone had expressed last night and blamed on her.

  “I think I’ve got this under control, but thank you, Natalie. Why don’t you just wash up for breakfast?” Something in Mrs. Morgan’s tone was kind, lacking the usual hard edge, and Nat slid a glance to Jess.

  They left the kitchen and took turns in the downstairs bathroom, jostling each other in the small space as they washed their hands. “What’s her deal?” Nat muttered from the side of her mouth.

  “I don’t know, but just go with it.” Jess pulled the hand towel off the rack, gave her hands a cursory drying, and then offered it to Nat. “My mom has always played things pretty close to the vest. She’ll show her hand when she’s ready. But I’ll tell you this much – she’s not going to hold back.”

  That didn’t sound promising, and Nat swallowed as a hard lump of nerves formed in her belly. It didn’t leave much room for the bacon and eggs Mrs. Morgan served them, but Nat still picked at it, trying to wash everything down with sips of coffee in the process. This time the tense silence was accompanied by glances between the Morgans that left Nat wondering what she could expect.

  “The roast is already in the oven,” Mrs. Morgan said, finally breaking the silence. “I take it you still do Christmas Eve dinner early and then a special dessert and some presents?”

  “Yeah, I haven’t changed any of the traditions I grew up with.” Uncertainty tinged Jess’s voice, so Nat reached beneath the table to give her hand a squeeze.

  “Good. You two might not have a healthy respect for your elders, but at least you have some for tradition.” Mrs. Morgan steepled her fingers together, elbows braced on either side of her empty plate. “The thing is, I know you meant well, Natalie.”

  Jess held up her hand and said, “Please, stop.” The gesture and command both surprised Nat, who’d already prepared herself for a scolding. “Don’t give her a hard time, because you’re right. She did have good intentions. But the truth is, I’m glad she did it. I miss Jeremy so much. Heck, all of us miss him more than words can express. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m still here, though.”

  Nat heard tears thicken Jess’s voice, and she turned to reach for her, arms settling around her waist.

  “It’s just,” Jess said, pausing and sniffling, “just that it also hurts that you couldn’t stand to be here more than you wanted to be around me. Why haven’t you ever been able to tell me how you felt?”

  “Honey.” Now it was Mrs. Morgan’s voice breaking. “Because if I did, I don’t think I’d ever stop crying. There are
still times I think I’ll never run out of tears for your brother.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t and no one should expect you to, but could you at least see that what you did hurt me when I needed you the most?”

  It was the most Nat had ever heard Jess talk about her feelings to another person, and she gave her a squeeze to encourage her. No matter what happened now – even if the Morgans stormed out and never returned – Nat and Jess would always have each other.

  “Yes, we handled everything so badly and I knew it back then, but I couldn’t…” Here, Mrs. Morgan also choked up and, when her husband reached for her, tears began flowing down her face. “I couldn’t ever find the courage to admit it. So, I’m telling you now that I failed you as a mother.”

  Nat blinked to keep her own tears in check. As it was, both Jess and her mother were crying, and Mr. Morgan looked like he was on the verge of it.

  “I love you, Mom!” Jess wailed before pushing herself out of the chair and into her mother’s arms.

  “I love you too,” Mrs. Morgan sputtered back, voice muffled by Jess’s hug.

  And then Mr. Morgan was there, too, hugging them both and gruffly echoing the sentiment.

  Nat felt that knot in her stomach loosen and then, finally, uncoil. The apologies were going around now, from mother to daughter to father, and it was all Nat could do to keep from joining in. With each breath she took, she wondered what would happen next.

  And then the Morgans turned and extended their arms to her.

  This time, she let the tears come.

  While Jess took her parents to visit Jeremy’s grave, Nat put the finishing touches on dinner preparations. When the Morgan family returned, she had every Christmas light glowing, inside and out, and the candles lit.

  Mrs. Morgan pulled her into a hug almost as soon as she hung her coat by the back door, and then stepped in to help serve dinner.

  For the first time, they shared a meal full of chatter and laughter. Sure, there were some tears, but they were tears of happiness as the family talked about some of the more memorable moments in Jeremy’s life.

  When they’d cleared the table and headed into the living room, Nat handed a present to each person. The tearing of wrapping paper, followed by “oohs” and “aahs” made her smile. This was what the holiday season was supposed to be about – loved ones gathered together to share and create special moments they could hold onto through all the years.

  As Nat opened the gift Jess handed her, she heard Mrs. Morgan ask, “So, when and where is this wedding?”

  Oh. Yes. They did have to figure that out, didn’t they?

  EPILOGUE

  The cold days became warmer, bringing more of those juicy, pinkish crawling things Esmerelda loved to dig out of the ground. Then the colors of the world changed from green to brilliant ones, like the glowing thing in the sky that warmed her during the day and disappeared when it got dark.

  And throughout those brilliant, fiery-hued days, the featherless ones toiled beneath the trees just beyond the fence. There were rows of white things place out there and then a day when more featherless ones than Esmerelda had ever seen in her life gathered in a crowd. They sat in those white things, while her keepers stood beneath a tall, arched thing covered in flowers, held hands, and talked to a woman in a suit that was as dark as the night sky.

  The flock of tall creatures made a lot of noise that day and into the night. Even as Esmerelda followed her friends and sisters back into their own little house, squabbling with them about who should go first, she heard the way the featherless ones shouted.

  Surely it wasn’t that important.

  She was, after all, just a chicken.

  UNTITLED

  Author’s Note

  One day, I was listening to StoryCorps on NPR. As one woman told a story that had me breaking down in tears (as so many of the stories often do), she shared the quote, “Grief is just love with no place to go.”

  Perhaps you’ve even seen this circulating online through the years, because it is, most definitely, a true statement that gets to the heart of the matter.

  So please take a moment to visit allmylooseends.com/2014/03/lights-wink/ which is where the original quote was first published by Jamie Anderson, author of the blog, All My Loose Ends. She deserves full credit for this beautifully insightful statement.

  ABOUT JEA HAWKINS

  Jea Hawkins writes sweet and spicy contemporary lesbian romance. She writes paranormal romance and urban fantasy as Lucy True. Her historical / contemporary romance, As Long As Love Lasts, has been nominated for a GCLS Literary Award.

  Regardless of genre, if love conquers all, then she’d like to think her heroines can rule the world one day. An east coast transplant to the Midwest, she loves to write about complicated women and settings that feel like home.

  Personal addictions include genealogy, autumn, cozy sweaters, hot chocolate, and the Sims 3. She’s both an avid reader and gamer, and hopes readers don’t mind a few geeky references here and there in her work.

  CHRISTMAS IN ANGEL VALLEY BY CARA MALONE

  NOVEMBER 23

  “I wish there was a better way,” Ashley said as she slid her apron across the prep counter. “I’m sorry.”

  “Can’t you stay until the end of the year?” Serenity Ryan asked, her heart trying to climb its way into her throat. She glanced through the open door that led to her bakery’s shop area, where half a dozen customers were milling about, looking in the display cases and impatiently waiting to be served.

  Christmas was the busiest time of year for the Sugar Plum Bakery and it was frantic enough without Serenity’s only employee defecting to work for the competition on the day after Thanksgiving. Serenity wondered if it would help to drop down on her knees and beg, but Ashley was shaking her head.

  “I know the timing is bad,” she said. “It’s just that Abbott’s Grocery offered me full benefits as a bakery manager and, frankly, more money than I know you could afford to give me. I have to think about my kid – I want to give him a good Christmas.”

  “I understand,” Serenity said. “Come here.”

  She opened her arms and Ashley closed the space between them in the small kitchen. They hugged, then Serenity smiled and tried not to look too lost. She’d run the Sugar Plum Bakery for five years, and for the first two, she’d been the owner, baker, clerk, head of marketing, accountant, and janitor. She’d done it all before and she could do it again.

  “It’s for the best,” she assured Ashley, “and I’m sure you’re going to make a great bakery manager.”

  “So you’re not mad?” Ashley asked bashfully.

  “No,” Serenity said. “If I were in your position, I’d sell out to Abbott’s, too.”

  Ashley laughed and as Serenity walked with her to the front of the shop, she said, “You know, I’m sure they’d hire you, too… if that’s what you wanted.”

  “Over my cold, delicious ice cream cakes,” Serenity said with a smirk.

  Ashley opened the bakery door, the bell above it jingling, and a cold gust of late November wind blew into the shop. The sky was overcast and the clouds were full with snow. If Serenity were to lean out the door and look up the street to the left, she’d be able to see the imposing, blocky structure of Abbott’s Grocery at the edge of town.

  She didn’t do that, though. She didn’t want to see it.

  “I’ll talk to you at your parents’ Christmas party next week, right?” Ashley asked.

  “Can’t wait,” Serenity said. “That’ll be just enough time for you to learn all of Abbott’s secrets and share them with me.”

  Ashley laughed and stepped onto the street, then Serenity let the door swing gently shut behind her and turned to face her waiting customers. She felt a moment’s trepidation – Ashley had handled everything at the front end of the shop for the last three years.

  But then Serenity put on a smile and said, “Sorry for the wait, everyone. Who’s next?”

  “I need a dozen Danis
hes, dear,” said Mrs. Thomas, standing nearest to the counter. “Harry and the kids are shopping til they drop in Granville and I promised to have snacks at the ready when they come back.”

  Serenity went behind the counter and grabbed one of her signature purple bakery boxes, then went to the display case and started carefully packing it with pastries. While she worked, she asked, “Are they buying anything in particular or just enjoying the spectacle of Black Friday?”

  “Harry wants a new TV,” Mrs. Thomas said. “The better to watch football on.”

  “And the better for you to watch your soaps, right, Brenda?” Serenity asked. It was strange to call her that – after spending a year in her French class, Serenity would always think of the woman as Mrs. Thomas, no matter how many times she had to be chastised to use her first name. Brenda was retired now and she came by the bakery often. Serenity tucked the lid into the purple box and slid it across the counter, saying, “That’ll be twelve dollars.”

  The bell above the door jingled again as Mrs. Thomas was digging the money out of her cluttered purse, and when Serenity looked up, she saw that it had begun to snow – big, dime-sized flakes falling outside the bakery window. Jimmy Olsen, who lived down the street from Serenity’s parents and often came into the bakery to pick up orders for his mother, waved to her as he got in line behind the other customers.

  Mrs. Thomas paid and said she was looking forward to the annual Ryan family Christmas party, then headed for the door. Serenity waved her next customer over, thinking maybe she could manage the holiday rush alone after all. It was just the price of being a small business owner, and if anything, she liked the challenge of doing it all, and doing it well.