Frances laughed. “Yup, you do know her. It’ll be nice to have your help, thank you.”
“Go ahead and tease,” Chris said. “I just know I’m going to be spending Thanksgiving with the two most important people in my life.” Chris shoved another forkful of food into her mouth.
Her affectionate words made Frances’s heart glow.
* * *
For Chris, the days sped by at lightning speed. True to their words, Frances and Mary Jo complemented one another’s cooking and baking and delivered a huge, delicious meal at Thanksgiving. Chris spent several days feeling awkwardly full. After a week of leftovers, she finally swore off turkey until next year.
Fortunately there were no emergencies, so Mary Jo was able to spend the whole day at Frances’s house. She went home with Chris that night, and for the first time they woke up in each other’s arms the next morning, leaving Chris happy and satisfied.
On Christmas, Frances spent the entire day at Chris’s house.
Chris was aware that Frances missed her late husband Fred every single day, and his absence affected her more on Christmas than any other time. With that in mind, every year since his death, Chris made it a point to arrive at Frances’s farm early on Christmas morning, feed the horses, and load Daisy, Frances, and a bag of wrapped gifts into her truck, driving everyone back to her house.
While Chris tended to her own chores, Frances made breakfast, and they unwrapped presents while they ate.
This year, in the Christmas spirit, Chris decorated her house lavishly with lights, mistletoe, and candles. The loveseat was pushed aside to make room for a six-foot-tall Blue Spruce tree that she, Frances, and Mary Jo had spent the week before decorating with strings of popcorn, cranberries, pinecones, and other homemade ornaments. When it came time to take the decorations down, Chris would set the tree outside, ornaments and all, to give the birds a treat.
“It’s too bad Mary Jo couldn’t spend today with you,” Frances said over a cup of coffee.
It was two o’clock in the afternoon on Christmas day. A foot of snow had fallen overnight. Temperatures had plummeted into the twenties. Snow blown by an unrelenting north wind lined the windowpanes, and drifted against the doors.
Chris sat with Frances in front of a well-stoked fire, the tired dogs at their feet. Earlier, she had put on her snowshoes to take the dogs for a run around the pond. Having eaten the biscuits and other treats they’d found in their stockings, the dogs seemed quite content to nap inside after playing in the snow a couple of hours.
“I know,” Chris replied, shrugging. “But she doesn’t get to see her parents that often, so I can’t blame her.”
“When will she be back?”
“In a couple of days, I guess. She’s staying at their place in Honeoye and going to work from there.”
“I do hope she’s careful. That’s a long drive back and forth, especially in this weather and on all those paved cow paths.”
“Doc insisted she take her vet rig instead of her own truck. That thing weighs a ton and handles well in the snow. I think she’ll be okay.”
“Is she going to keep her apartment?”
Chris grinned and looked at Frances.
At times it was hard for Chris to talk. She had difficulty expressing herself clearly when it came to her feelings. She couldn’t seem to find the right words. But she was no longer uncomfortable answering Frances’s questions regarding her relationship with Mary Jo. If Frances wanted to know something, she just asked. What had surprised Chris was finding out that Mary Jo and Frances talked about the relationship more than she’d imagined.
She envied Mary Jo’s ease and her confidence in conversations about her own life as a lesbian—unfamiliar territory to Chris, whose tendency was to hold her cards close to her vest and deal with things privately. She purposely gave most people the impression that the protective walls she kept around her emotions were impenetrable. The impression helped disguise her insecurities around people in general.
“Her lease isn’t up until August. I guess we’ll see where things stand then.” Chris hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
Matters had moved so fast between her and Mary Jo. She wondered if her feelings might not have blossomed, or even changed, if they’d taken it slower. Probably not, she admitted. The connection she felt with Mary Jo went further than sex, but damn… that woman could take her places!
Mary Jo stimulated her mind as well as her body, Chris thought, the missing link with Sky and the other women she knew from Angie’s Bar. Why did she have such a problem with commitment in the past? She could only assume her hesitation was due to a residual lack of trust.
Her pensiveness must have showed, because Frances cleared her throat to gain her attention. “Follow your heart, Chris,” she said. “It won’t ever let you down.”
“Hmm, someone else told me that.” Chris peered over the rim of her raised coffee cup. “I love you, you know.”
“I love you, too. Now tell me what Mary Jo gave you for Christmas.”
“I have no idea. She said she didn’t want to give it to me until she got back.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah, huh. That’s what I said. My present to her is hanging on the tree.”
“What? That envelope?”
Chris smiled. “Yeah. It’s the breeding certificate for Ruby’s foal.”
“You’re giving her Ruby’s foal?”
“Yeah.” Chris had racked her brain for weeks, trying to think of something special to get Mary Jo for Christmas. When it finally came to her, she almost couldn’t stand not telling Mary Jo right away, but she didn’t want to ruin the surprise.
“Oh, Chris, that’s so generous of you. She’s going to love it,” Frances said, her eyes sparkling merrily. “When are you going to tell her?”
“I guess when she gets home.” Chris missed Mary Jo a lot. She didn’t just miss her in the bedroom, though. She loved the way Mary Jo’s eyes flashed when she was excited, how she absently tucked her hair behind her ears, and how she poked the tip of her tongue out the side of her mouth when deep in thought. And the most endearing to her of all: how Mary Jo managed to make her laugh.
She’d spent so many years alone with only the dogs and horses to occupy her life. At the time it had seemed natural, but looking back, those days seemed empty to her. Without realizing it, she’d been a hollowed-out woman stumbling along without purpose. She guessed she’d been waiting for Mary Jo all that time and just hadn’t known it.
Once again, Frances interrupted her brooding. “I can see how much you miss her. Mary Jo’s vibrancy, her energy, and her great sense of humor are treasures. But the biggest gift she has given me is putting that big spark of light in your eyes. For that, I’m eternally grateful.”
“She’s special, isn’t she?”
Frances’s expression gave her the answer.
Later that evening, after Chris drove Frances and Daisy home, she returned to her quiet house. Her dogs had stayed put, content to remain sleeping in front of the fire while she made the quick trip down the road and back.
She let the truck glide to a stop in front of the garage as she watched the snowflakes filling the night air. The wind had subsided, but not entirely, keeping the flakes airborne a bit longer as they headed downward to join the many that had already fallen.
Chris got out of her truck and listened to the night. The sound of the falling snow seemed like soft static in the air. Other than a horse’s muffled snort, the barn was quiet.
She lifted her face to let the snowflakes tickle her as they floated down. “Silent night, indeed,” she murmured.
Shoving her hands deep in her pockets to ward off the cold, Chris felt contentment blanket her. The only light from the house was the flickering glow of the fireplace, making the night seem even darker. The snow’s whiteness illuminated itself and little more. She couldn’t even make out the silhouette of the barn. She took a deep breath and welcomed fresh, cold air into her lungs.
Ten minutes later, the bitter cold drove her inside. The snow muted her movements as she walked to the house and up the porch steps. She took one more look behind her at the falling snow before she opened the door. The dogs met her as she came in, greeted her briefly, and returned to their beds by the fire.
Chris hung her long, fleece-lined Outback coat on the wall peg, traded her boots for moose-hide slippers, and went into the kitchen. She decided to try fighting off the threatening nostalgia with some wine.
She took her glass and a half empty bottle into the living room, plopped down on the couch, and poured a full portion. Sadie jumped up beside her, turned a few circles, lay down, and made herself comfortable. Chris stared into the fire, one hand holding her wineglass, the other absently stroking the little dog.
Before long, the wine was gone. She got up, threw a couple of logs on the fire, and contemplated going upstairs to bed. Reluctant to brave the cold sheets, she returned to the couch. She swung her legs up and pulled the comforter over herself and Sadie, who tucked in behind her knees.
Sleep came quickly, thanks in part to the wine, but mostly because she was bored. And lonely. And missing the woman who made her complete.
Chapter 23
Mary Jo had been enjoying Christmas at her parent’s house, but early that evening, she’d had to rush out to an emergency call: A horse pulling a sleigh full of people down an icy road had bolted. By the time the driver managed to stop him, the horse was lame and bloodied. Mary Jo spent a couple of hours diagnosing and treating the horse for a pulled muscle in his shoulder, along with several minor cuts on his legs that she’d stitched up.
Rather than make the long drive back from Cohocton to Honeoye on treacherous, snow-covered roads, she had turned her truck in the direction of Chris’s house. She called her parents on the way to describe her plan and promised to visit them again within the next few days.
When she let herself into Chris’s house, it was well past midnight. She figured Chris would be upstairs in bed, sound asleep. Quiet for once, Cedar and Cagney met her at the door, wagging their tails. She greeted them softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
Mary Jo smirked, feeling devilish as she tiptoed through the house and up the stairs. She couldn’t wait to see Chris’s face when she woke up to find her sleeping next to her in bed. Her gleeful musings disappeared abruptly when she saw the empty bed, the covers undisturbed.
“What the…? Where in the hell is she?” Mary Jo muttered, frowning as she stood in the doorway of Chris’s bedroom with her hands on her hips. She looked down at the two Labs who had followed her upstairs.
“Okay, what’d you girls do with your mom?” she asked. “A reindeer better not have run her over on the way back from the barn.” The dogs just wagged their tails faster.
Mary Jo decided to go back downstairs to look for clues. She was halfway down when she spotted an inert form on the couch and saw Sadie poke her head out from under the comforter.
She descended the remaining stairs. Within a few short moments, she was kneeling next to the couch where Chris lay sleeping. As she listened to Chris’s soft breathing, she carefully brushed a lock of hair off her brow. She never grew tired of looking at her. Her friend. Her lover.
The reflection of the fire on Chris’s smooth, attractive face accentuated a peace found only in sleep— that is, if bad dreams left her alone, Mary Jo thought.
She knew the façade Chris wore in public hid the true person beneath. The woman seen by the average person at any given time was the one she’d met earlier that summer. Better than anyone, except possibly Frances, she understood there was more to Chris Martel than the tough exterior she showed everyone else. Chris was passionate and caring, and liked to laugh. Mary Jo loved to see her throw her head back and laugh with abandon.
When Chris settled those sky blue eyes on her, Mary Jo felt like her lover could see right into her soul, and that she was the most important person in the world. When they made love, Chris’s caresses made her skin burn with passion and sent all her senses reeling. She had fallen head over heels in love with Chris, though to date she hadn’t said it. Other than her parents, she had never professed love to anyone.
She touched Chris’s cheek with the back of her hand. “I love you, Chris,” she whispered, leaning forward to tenderly brush her lips against Chris’s temple.
Chris’s eyes slowly opened, and a sleepy smile grew on her face as she became more awake. “Hey,” she said, her voice still rough with sleep. “What are you doing here? I thought you were staying with your parents.”
“Want me to leave?” Mary Jo started to get up.
Chris’s arm shot out from under the comforter. She grabbed Mary Jo’s sweater and pulled her close. “Nah, since you’re here, you might as well stay.” Chris leaned up on her elbow and gave Mary Jo an affectionate kiss. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, babe.” Mary Jo wiggled her eyebrows. “I don’t have to be in until ten o’clock tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s a nice Christmas present.” Chris’s eyelids drooped.
“We’ll talk about presents tomorrow. Right now, I’m ready for bed. Are you going to join me upstairs, or stay in that tight little cocoon you’ve got going there?”
Chris yawned. “Bed sounds nice, especially with you to curl up next to.”
Mary Jo stood up, grabbed Chris’s arm, and pulled her to her feet. “Come on. You’re not allowed to fall asleep until we’re upstairs and I’ve got you wrapped in my arms.” Truthfully, she didn’t give a damn where they slept, as long as they were together. But why let a perfectly good bed go to waste?
* * *
The next morning, Chris painstakingly pulled herself from a tangle of arms and legs. Careful to not wake Mary Jo, she crept out of bed.
Mary Jo’s arm slid out of the covers and swiped back and forth, clearly searching for Chris without success. From the depths of her pillow, her muffled voice grumbled, “Where are you going at this ungodly hour?”
Chris pulled the covers back over Mary Jo. “I’m going out to feed the horses. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when I come back in.”
Deep, even breathing signaled Mary Jo had already fallen asleep.
Chris went downstairs, let the dogs out, and made a pot of coffee. After the dogs returned and ate their breakfast, she pulled on her coat and led them out.
Her nose tingled when she inhaled the crystal cold air. The sun had not yet risen. Millions of stars flickered overhead, Venus accompanying a bright three-quarter moon. She paused to gaze at the sky before continuing down to the barn.
Morning was her favorite time of day. Everything started fresh. Although she repeated the same routine week in, week out, she never grew tired of it.
Chris fed the horses and doled out large portions of hay. She was nearly finished cleaning Top Hat’s stall when Mary Jo came into the barn. Looking up from sifting a fork full of bedding, she watched her sidle hesitantly toward the stall.
“Hey, why’d you get up?” she asked. “I’m almost finished here, and in a few minutes, I would have been in.”
“That’s okay. I wanted to spend some time with you before I had to go to the clinic.”
Chris evened the bedding out and came out of the stall. “Hattie’s due in two weeks.”
“Lovely. I hope she’s an easy foaler.” Mary Jo didn’t try to hide her sarcasm. She wasn’t sure her heart could take a repeat performance of the last disastrous encounter with Top Hat, especially if the high-strung mare was in the middle of giving birth.
“Knock on wood. She’s never had a problem with me. I have to move her to one of the foaling stalls in a few days.” Chris threw her manure fork in the wheelbarrow and pulled Mary Jo close. As they shared a kiss, she said, “Good morning,” against Mary Jo’s lips. “I could get used to these kisses before dawn.”
“Good morning, and me, too.” With a gleam in her eyes, Mary Jo suddenly asked, “Want your Christmas gift?”
“Of course.” Chris played at searching Mary Jo. “Do I have to look for it?”
Mary Jo giggled as Chris patted her down until searching hands reached under her sweater. “Okay, stop. Shit, you’ve got cold fingers!” She grabbed Chris’s hands in both of hers. “I hope you like it. Now close your eyes, and no peeking.”
Chris could barely stand the suspense. Before Bill and Frances came into her life, Christmas meant very little. While she had received gifts from her family in her youth, the true meaning of the holiday didn’t exist in her parents’ house because of the hell she lived in all the other days of the year. She had always managed to sneak out to the barn afterward to lavish her best friends with treats and affection.
“Keep your eyes closed, Martel,” Mary Jo said. “Now hold out your right hand.”
Frowning, Chris shut her eyes. She felt Mary Jo push her sweater sleeve up a bit to expose her wrist.
“Don’t look.”
Despite the warning, Chris peeked. Mary Jo bent over and pulled up the right leg of her jeans. She removed something tucked inside her sock and straightened up.
Chris quickly closed her eyes.
Steadying Chris’s arm, Mary Jo placed something on her wrist. “Okay, you can look.”
Chris opened her eyes and stared at what Mary Jo had done. Tears brimmed and ran down her cheeks. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her other arm while gazing at the bracelet on her wrist. It was made of braided horsehair, and in the middle sat a heart streaked with black, white, gray, and brown that seemed to include all the other strands of hair.
Fingering the bracelet, she looked at Mary Jo. “It’s beautiful, babe. Thank you.” She closed the small distance between them and embraced Mary Jo in a tight hug. “I love it,” she mumbled into her neck.
“I had it made for you. All the horsehair is from horses in your barn. I spent hours scouring the barn for long strands of horsehair. Doing that without your knowledge was nearly impossible. Several times, I came to the farm on a Thursday morning, knowing you’d be at Frances’s house. After collecting what I could find, I’d race over to join you guys for breakfast.”
Laurie Salzer - A Kiss Before Dawn Page 23