Christmas Angel

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  “Do you have specific questions or shall I talk?”

  He’d forgotten his purpose for coming, so took another sip, collecting his thoughts. “I can’t think what to ask.” The chink of cup against saucer captured his attention. Sophie sat with her cup in her hands cradled on her lap. When their gazes met, she put it down.

  “How about I give you a little information about myself and we’ll go from there?”

  She waited for his nod, took a few edibles onto a plate, and then sat back. Dean fought the urge to check whether anyone eavesdropped. The chairs and tables were well spaced. As long as they didn’t shout, neighbouring conversations didn’t carry far, blending into a murmur. Chances were, their own words would only add another undercurrent. Still, he was glad when Sophie adopted a calm, quiet tone, loud enough for him to hear but intimate.

  “I’ve always been bisexual and always been monogamous. I’ve never been with two people at the same time. I mean…” Sophie shook her head. “Well, I never had two in a bed either, though I meant I’ve never been in two relationships at once.”

  “Same.” No reason for him to tell her that, but he threw it out there before getting to his most important question. “You’ve had no doubts?”

  “About my being bisexual?”

  “No. Well, yes, that, but being monogamous.”

  “No. That’s a common mistake. Some bisexuals are in an open relationship, that is true, but it’s not what the majority of partners will allow and it may well not be what the bisexual person in the relationship wants.”

  Her words echoed his feelings so closely, he couldn’t help wondering whether Candice had prompted her. Probably not.

  “My current boyfriend is straight but I’ve been with a bisexual man and we were both committed solely to our relationship while it lasted. I can see that surprises you.”

  God save him from observant women. “I suppose it does. It’s not what most of us imagine.”

  “Reality seldom is.” Sophie nibbled a wrap so small, it amazed Dean she put half back on the plate. “Let me guess. You think a man hearing his girlfriend is bisexual leaps at the chance of jumping into bed with two women.”

  “I wouldn’t say…” Dean’s voice trailed away. “It’s one scenario.”

  “Seldom the case.” Sophie was smiling. “Often it interferes with any chance many, if not most, bisexual women have of having a serious relationship with a man. Oooooh a threesome is not the turn-on people sometimes assume. Not for me. Candice has mentioned abandonment issues with you?”

  Dean nodded.

  “Men get those feelings of insecurity, too. So do bisexual women. Being bisexual is worse than being gay in many ways. Or let me phrase it a way I find more comfortable. I believe I would find it easier. There would be no need to explain my sexual attraction to the person I was attracted to, do you see?”

  He could understand that much at least, too well. Unease crawled like a tapeworm in his intestines as he inched towards acceptance.

  “The only person who can understand me well is another bisexual person, but even then, the other person may suffer from feelings of insecurity. I’m bisexual and yet I want monogamous relationships. And I’m not alone in that.”

  “There are others?” Dean felt stupid the moment he asked. There must be…he’d covered this, and he was one of them, wasn’t he?

  “Many. Trust me. You are not alone.”

  He didn’t argue. She was right. Hearing that helped in a way inexpressible.

  “The trouble arises because many people assume bisexuality means multiple partners. I had extremely successful relationships with men and with women, but not at the same time. And before you say they couldn’t have been successful because they didn’t last, we broke up for reasons that can cause any relationship to disintegrate.” Sophie still smiled that smile—the one that came across shy of smirking. “Only once was disloyalty an issue, and it wasn’t me.” She gave a tilt of her head as if she had seen a question in his expression.

  “Okay.” Dean chewed a small muffin made for garden gnomes. “But there must be a few bisexuals in ménage relationships. I mean, I’ve known a woman living with two men and the children are by both men, although the two men don’t have sex. I’m guessing as many pairings as I can envision, there are more I can’t even dream of.”

  Sophie nodded. “I know a woman living happily with a man and a woman and they are all three as good as married. I’ve been friends with three homosexual men living together. Given the inaccurate portrayal that all gay men are promiscuous, most assume that one, if not all three, sleep around outside of the trio.”

  “Not the case,” Dean finished the statement for her.

  “No. The three men are faithful within the relationship. You’ll find as many bisexuals are desirous of monogamy, as there may be polyamory.”

  Though only recently learned, he understood the term. The philosophy of being involved with more than one person at the same time—in the past he would have thought Sophie talked of cheating. He’d have been wrong. In polyamory, everyone involved was aware, but neither could one call it an open relationship as it involved specific parties. He’d read up on one actress married to an older man, who had a younger man with whom she also had a relationship, the three aware.

  “Although people use that term to distinguish relationships with more than one partner that does not have to include sex, and I think sex is your main concern here.”

  That sounded like a question so Dean nodded.

  “If what springs to your mind is images of a bisexual person lying in bed, with a person of each gender blocking the draughts from either side of the room, then you’re under a common misconception.” Sophie poured them both more tea. “I’ve known a bisexual person be with two people of the opposite gender at the same time. Others wouldn’t even entertain the idea.”

  Dean blinked and Sophie’s smile bloomed; no doubt, she noticed she surprised him.

  “So my…” Dean came to a halt, glanced around and, despite feeling foolish for doing so, he lowered his voice, though no one looked close enough to overhear, and none paid attention. “My wish to be monogamous isn’t uncommon for someone who’s bi? Candice is right?”

  “Yes, she is.”

  Had Candice sent him here, knowing he needed to hear it from someone other than her; to have it confirmed by another bisexual? To hear Sophie say so helped more than it should. He took a deep breath. Others felt the same way. They coped. Had happy relationships. Maybe things would work out for Jay. For Dean, too.

  “You’re not really telling me anything Candice hasn’t gone over. I’m not sure it solves my problem.”

  “Then let me say this. Think of it as…as a potential to be with either gender. If I was with a man now and the relationship failed, I will be open to going with either a man or a woman next. My next relationship will revolve around an attraction for a specific person regardless of their gender. As long as said person was so inclined, of course. I’ve no more chance with a straight female or a gay man than anyone else not of a suitable sexuality. And some bisexuals are celibate, because they have yet to meet the right person, they are struggling with their feelings and so choose to be, or they wish to focus on other things instead of a relationship. A bisexual person has the potential to be alone, single, married, faithful, disloyal, the same as anyone else.”

  “That…makes sense.” More than he had expected it to. “Candice could have explained.”

  “She could have. I surmise she wanted you to have it confirmed by someone who understands how you feel. Someone you may believe more than you’ve wanted to believe her.”

  A strange moment passed between them. Understanding by telepathy, maybe.

  “I was one of Candice’s patients a long time ago, but long enough to know how you’ve felt sitting opposite her.” Sophie signalled a passing waiter and asked for more tea. She waited until he walked away before asking, “Dean, what’s troubling you?”

  He wasn�
�t sure he could tell her and yet…To embrace his sexuality, shouldn’t he have the balls to discuss it?

  “I never realised I was bisexual. Not on any real conscious level. Not until…” He hesitated. Sophie’s silence and patience acted as encouragement. “Not until I fell in love.”

  “With a man? I’m presuming,” she added. “Only because I can’t see why it will be an issue otherwise.”

  He nodded. “With a man. With my…best friend. I can’t help wonder now if I always loved him. Didn’t want to admit it, maybe.”

  “That’s possible. I can only recommend you talk to Candice. I don’t want to dish out advice, along with French Fancies…” She held out the plate, so he took one small cake. “God, when did I last see these things?” She shook her head, expression full of amusement. “I don’t want to hand out goodies with advice that might do more harm than good. I can only explain bisexual relationships to you in a way I hope you’ll understand.”

  “You have. I just…” Dean shook his head. “I fear needing a woman someday.”

  “No, you don’t. You fear being unfaithful.” Sophie bit into the pink icing on the small cake. “Is this a real fear or a ‘what if’?”

  “I…” A real fear, surely? “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Sophie ate the other half of the cake, licked her lips, and set down the plate. “Now I really need that tea. Ah, here it comes.” She nodded to the waiter, who poured, both she and Dean silent until they were alone.

  “You understand what I’m saying. Everyone starts relationships with the best of intentions, or at least I like to think most of us do. Many of us are carried away with the idea of a happy ever after, which some of us find and some of us don’t. People find happiness with the least likely person, or someone they never imagined they’d settle with. The point is…none of us knows. Dean, your sexuality doesn’t come into this. Not really.”

  He was frowning at her. The cake, half-melted by the heat of his fingers, smelled sickly. He wrapped it in a napkin, ready to tell Sophie that made little sense, but she spoke even as their gazes met.

  “If you’re seeing Candice or asking me whether your bisexuality will make you more likely to cheat, I don’t think either one of us can tell you.”

  “So…” All this time wasted. “No answers.”

  “Dean, we can’t give you answers when you’re not asking the right question. The question isn’t whether you’re bisexual. The question comes down to whether you’re a person likely to cheat, at all.”

  * * * *

  A car swept across Dean’s path, shattering his internal monologue, silencing all the questions causing his head to hurt. The vehicle came so close he took a step back, and opened his mouth to swear, jaw snapping shut as he caught sight of the driver. April stared ahead, fingers tapping the steering wheel. When she looked over, he retreated further, fearing to see her head revolve.

  “Get in.”

  Was she kidding? Apparently not. Dean dithered, but curiosity won. He took hold of the handle, opened the door, and slipped into the passenger seat. The click of the seat belt as he fastened it, barely reached his ears before she tore off. Dean shut his eyes; never a fan of April’s driving.

  “I saw you come out of that fancy hotel. Saw you go in, too.”

  What the hell? Was she spying on him? Stalking?

  Her chin jutted forward, appearing as tense as her grip on the wheel. Rubber squealed on tarmac as she took a sharp corner at speed, the flow of the traffic one-way and marginal. She got near no one and not once did she lose control.

  Dean lifted an eyebrow. Her skill had improved, but he didn’t like the angry display. He curled his grip around the inside door handle, swaying as April chose the nearest exit. What was their destination?

  Maybe they had none. Nothing specific. April focused ahead, her expression one he recognised. She wanted to talk.

  Not yet. The path she wove with the car didn’t strike Dean as meaningless and she drove so close to the speed limit he didn’t want to distract her from the road ahead. He didn’t want to be in the car, didn’t want to go back to the garage. Didn’t want to go home. He wanted to talk to Candice but she wouldn’t see him until the day after next, one day before Christmas Eve. Sophie had put so many thoughts in his mind, he wanted to discuss them, but Candice would insist he take his time so wouldn’t bump his appointment even if he begged. He couldn’t face Jay until he calmed. Might as well see what April had to say, not that she’d given him much choice.

  At last, she slowed. The scenery had changed. They passed along roads with more trees, until April pulled into a space in a small car park overlooking a green field. People walked dogs and pushed prams. The engine ticked as it cooled. Should he wait for the accusations to start, or jump ahead?

  “I’m not—”

  “I know you’re not cheating.”

  Candice wasn’t the only woman who could silence him.

  “I don’t know why you went there and I don’t care. That is…” Her fingers danced against the steering column. “I do care. If it affects my brother in any way, but that’s not why I’m here.” She shook her head. “I need to talk to someone and I can’t…There’s no one else.” When she gazed over, her eyes were big and bulbous, brimming. She said the last thing he expected her to. “I need your help.”

  Chapter 13

  “I had my doubts but great job on the turkey.” Eleanor Reid eyed the sliced meat on her plate, poking at it as if she hadn’t given it outstanding approval.

  Jay suppressed a grin while Dean flashed a smile. Three long years. Jay’s mother had at last allowed Dean to help with the dinner. Not only that. She allowed him to supply the main component. Having cooked the bird at home before packing it up, whisking it along, and laying said poultry out on a platter, Dean hadn’t let her inspect the turkey before he took it to the table. Praise from Eleanor Reid over a meal was praise indeed.

  The last five minutes had passed in awkward anticipation, everyone munching on Christmas dinner and watching his mother’s changing expressions. Seemed she might never say a word when she, at last, nodded. The relief spread around the table similar to a Mexican wave. His father had announced the meal as ‘fine grub’ and now dished out second helpings.

  “Hand over the spuds.”

  Jonathan took the serving bowl from April and heaped out three potatoes. As he speared a fourth, his wife said, “Not too many, dear.”

  He pulled a face as everyone stared in his direction.

  “Cholesterol,” Jay’s mum explained.

  “Not bad. Just a little elevated,” Jonathan elaborated. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Best nip it in the bud.”

  “It’s Christmas Day,” Jonathan complained.

  “Overdo things now and you’ll regret it in January.”

  “God, you sound…” Jonathan didn’t finish that sentence, but his gaze flicked to April. He stopped at four potatoes, but took an extra spoon of stuffing when Eleanor dashed back to the kitchen, muttering something about cranberry sauce.

  “Bit late.” April glowered at the dish of red jelly as it landed on the table.

  “Well, someone might have mentioned it,” their mother snapped.

  “Clearly, no one wants it if they didn’t think to ask.” April hated cranberry sauce, but the level of animosity in her voice made even their father pause in the act of smothering his dinner in gravy.

  “No need for sarcasm.” Eleanor had stopped eating and sat, elbows on the table, always a bad sign. “Try to do something about your mood. It is Christmas.”

  Jay looked at Dean who flicked his gaze sideways and studiously forked delicious turkey into his mouth. The only sign Dean found this as awkward as Jay did was his eyes going wide. Jay loved his family but some days he wondered why Dean put up with them. Must be love.

  His mother wasn’t wrong about April’s mood, though. Whatever had upset her infected the day.

  “There is. Nothing. Wrong. With my. Mood.�
� April emphasised each word.

  “Well can’t say as I noticed a change,” Jonathan piped up, snatching the last potato and inadvertently earning the wrath of mother and daughter. “Can’t let it go to waste,” he said, slicing the potato in half as Eileen stared, her lips compressed. He appeared oblivious to April glaring daggers.

  “Thanks, Dadddd.” April dragging out the word got his attention, but Jay took his father’s expression as one of confusion.

  “Someone have cranberry.” His mother sounded desperate, so Jay took a spoonful when no one else made a move. When his mother took a serving to put on her own plate, Jay pushed his helping under a few unwanted sprouts. Though he disliked the vegetable almost as much as he hated cranberries, she always piled them on his plate.

  A glance at Dean and, yes, the man smirked. For a few minutes, they ate in silence. This was turning out to be a fun day.

  His mother rose.

  “Where are you going, Mum?” April tapped the tip of her knife on the edge of her plate, the movement rhythmic, irritating.

  “To get dessert.”

  “We’ve not eaten all the veggies.”

  “No…but then no one will have room for dessert if they eat all this.”

  “I suppose that’s my fault.”

  The three men stayed silent as mother and daughter confronted each other, one sitting with a dangerous weapon and a glare, the other standing and glowering with nuclear power.

  “No. It isn’t. Not that I wouldn’t have appreciated a call—”

  “Of course. I’m so thoughtless.”

  Jay’s face tightened as he struggled to stay expressionless. A sharp impression he likened to shock went through him when Dean whispered his sister’s name. April stared at Dean before glaring again at their mother. Jay frowned at Dean, who glanced at him, before sipping from his wine glass.

  What in the world? Why had Dean butted in? Since when did Dean try to help April?