by Ev Bishop
Sean had taken a throat-scalding gulp of coffee when she first started talking, but now, though his beverage had cooled to a drinkable temperature, he couldn’t swallow a mouthful. He set the mostly untouched drink down on the coffee table and began to pace.
He recalled how Bryn shifted away from him in the night and understood that his words had been as terrible a blunder as he feared—but it wasn’t his jest about marrying her that put her off. It was his thoughtless line about having a bunch of babies. He had inadvertently hurt her.
As he tried to think of the best way to apologize, he wondered how stupidly often people were hurt by other people’s casual comments and assumptions. Back when his sister had been undergoing treatment, he’d been enraged by people’s ignorance. How people who didn’t know Marnie had cancer would “compliment” her for losing so much weight and getting “so skinny.” There they were raving about how great she looked, when she wasn’t sure she was going to survive. One especially imbecilic woman had even said, “I’m sooo jealous.”
When Marnie, tired of bizarre weight-obsessed comments from people she barely knew, explained she wasn’t trying to size down, that she was sick, she had cancer, more than one person, instead of being embarrassed or apologetic, came back with some stupid line like, “Oh, well, you look great. I’m sure you’re going to win the fight.”
It had seemed almost unforgivable to him at the time—to be so obtuse and careless, so presumptuous that they knew someone else’s story that they didn’t even think before making such highly personal comments—and here he’d done the same rotten thing.
Bryn misunderstood his silence and put her mug down beside his. “Don’t feel bad. It’s okay. I knew it would change things.”
“No, you don’t get it. I was so ignorant—”
“But you weren’t trying to be ignorant. You just have the dream most of us have, a life partner, children…” Bryn’s voice was undeservedly kind and held that note of placid resignation that had chaffed him before. He was suddenly extremely glad that all of this had come up now, on day two of their acquaintance—so he could nip it in the bud right away.
“Listen to me,” he said, reaching out and gently taking her hands in his. She stared at him. “I’m so sorry my joking comment about marriage and kids was like acid in a wound.”
Bryn’s mouth flew open and Sean could almost hear her objection or polite lie that it was all right. “Let me finish, then I’ll hear you out.”
She seemed to deflate, shrinking away from him, even though he still held her by one hand.
“I really like you. Maybe for some people not being able to have kids would be a big issue. I get that biological urges are a powerful thing—”
“Are you saying you don’t want children?”
“No, I—”
“Exactly—and I always did too. Never imagined otherwise, in fact. So yes, I’m sensitive about it because I’m not in any position to make my own dreams come true, let alone anyone else’s. I’m different, defective—even my own family thinks so—and I’m sorry if you don’t think it’s a big issue, but I do. I…” Her voice petered out, then took on new strength. “I can’t date someone, chance falling in love, risk all that pain… Maybe it’s selfish of me to be so self-interested, but I just can’t be not enough for someone, not ever again.”
Sean was so stunned by Bryn’s flawed view of herself—that she was only of value in a relationship if she could be some sort of brood mare—that he didn’t know what to say. And then she was practically pushing him out the door.
“It’s almost three. Your cabin should be ready.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry, Sean, I really am. I thought I could talk about this, but I can’t. I don’t want to. It hurts too much.”
What could he do? Force her to talk to him when she didn’t want to? When it would, in her own words, hurt her? He left, sick at heart, feeling like a failure for not figuring out the right thing to say, the way to fix how Bryn saw herself and him—and them.
Two-bedroom Rainbow cabin, his for the week, was a wonderful blend of modern yet rustic, but he spent a restless evening, unable to enjoy it. The dinner he made with groceries he’d gone to town for after picking up his keys at the office went uneaten. All he wanted was to show Rainbow to Bryn, to see delight shine in her soft eyes, to have her fill his empty spaces with her kind little deeds and frequent laugh.
It was still early, just before eight p.m., when the idea hit. So he wasn’t great at expressing himself with words—no surprise there—but maybe there was a work around. He was, after all, very good with events, big and small. He bundled up, made sure he had his wallet, and jogged over to River’s Sigh B & B’s office. It was closed for the night, but he took the chance on appearing rude and knocked on the door to the main house.
After apologizing for disturbing them in their off hours for the second night in a row, Sean ran his plan by Jo and Callum. They gave him enthusiastic, smiling approval, and he burned back into town in his rental car, hoping to catch the stores before they closed, a man with a new mission.
Chapter 13
Bryn awoke slowly, luxuriating in the heavy cotton sheets and fluffy duvet, yet aware, even on the brink of consciousness, that she’d liked the bed better the night before. The night Sean had shared it with her.
Just that tiny thought made her tingle all over with tactile memories: the sensation of his limbs tangled with hers, his skin so rough against her smooth softness, the pressure of his mouth and—
She bit her lip, practically rocking on the mattress, as she relived his erection pressing against her through his boxers. Frustrated, she rolled over and tried to force herself back to sleep—but failed.
The dim blue light streaming through the window could be from a midnight moon shining on snow or from early dawn. It was impossible to tell which.
She shoved a pillow out of the way so she could see the bedside clock. 7:33. Not too early to get up, but early enough that it would make for a long solitary day. If only she could’ve slept until noon. Yes, it was a terrible attitude, but she couldn’t help it. It was December 21st. There were four more sleeps until Christmas, then seven until New Year’s Day when she had arranged to check out. That was a long time to holiday alone. Maybe she’d hang tight until Boxing Day, then head home and get some stuff done around her condo before she returned to work.
When was Sean due back to work? Was he staying through until the new year too, or—
Good grief! Could she give it a rest? Bryn mustered energy she didn’t feel and climbed out of bed. Steve heard her and zipped into the room, bouncing with glee as if to say, “You’re alive, you’re alive.”
He was impossible to be grouchy around and Bryn smiled a little. “Good morning to you too.” She let him outside for a few minutes, then called him back and filled his dish with kibble she’d picked up at the grocery store after she’d forced Sean to go “home” to his cabin. Steve happily crunching away, she hit the shower. She took her time moisturizing and applying makeup, not because she might bump into Sean, she assured herself, but because she had time, so why not?
It was 8:05 when Bryn told Steve she wouldn’t be long, then opened the cabin door and stepped outside. She was early, but not too early. Breakfast would be officially underway. She shoved her gloved hands deep into her pockets and hunched down in her coat, so its collar shielded her face and damp hair from the biting cold. She’d only taken three or four steps along the path when she became aware of her surroundings—and totally froze.
What on earth? An army of snow people—okay, admittedly a pretty silly, fun army, but still an army—posed along the path at intervals, big male looking snowmen, tiny child snowmen, lady snow folks… even a tiny snow dog. They all sported cheery holiday garb, toques and scarves, aprons or vests—and every single one carried a poster board sign with a personal message to her.
“Beautiful Bryn, be my skate date?” read one sign, and Bryn noticed the snowman had
real ice skates slung over his snowy shoulder and hockey sticks for arms.
Another sign, held by a snow woman holding a huge ceramic mug, said, “Coffee’s on, sweet but no sugar Bryn—but I forgot cream. Come by anytime—and bring cream!”
Hardly able to believe the sweet, silly scene before her eyes, Bryn meandered along the path, as sign by sign, snow creation by snow creation, Sean invited her to accompany him to each of the various activities on River’s Sigh B & B’s Christmas schedule.
It must’ve taken him all night and where had he found all the props? One ball cap sporting “farmer” snowman stood in a small pile of straw, carried a pitch fork and had a large blowup horse by his side, for Pete’s sake. His sign read, “Hey, Bryn. Please don’t say no to the hay ride, eh?” It was crazy. And hilarious. And… awesome.
One of the snow people near the end of the line had a tell-tale yellow stain midway up his base. Bryn suspected Steve immediately and the thought that he’d christened Sean’s work before she’d even seen it made her laugh. On a less romantic note, it reminded her to scan the path and surroundings for poop. Steve tended to have an evening constitution, however, and this morning proved no different. She was happy not to have to scoop and run back to the cabin or show up for breakfast with a poop bag in hand.
The last snow person wore a sweater like the one Sean had worn on their trek to find River’s Sigh. He had blue stones for eyes and was holding a large yellow envelope with her name on it. Something on the ground at Snowman Sean’s feet caught her eye. A toy truck was lodged on top of a chunk of wood that looked like a log, half buried in snow. A tiny sign beside it exclaimed, “Dammit!”
The guy was too much. This was almost… insanity. She couldn’t stop smiling though. She reached out, grabbed the envelope and found a note inside.
Dear Bryn,
I can almost hear what you’re thinking: This guy’s a lunatic.
Sean’s words were so close to what she’d literally thought that she laughed out loud.
But before you write me off (or call the police), let me explain the thoughts behind my madness. I had a great time with you and will always remember you fondly, whether you decide to see more of me or not. I wanted to do something equally memorable for you, something that would hopefully trigger that wonderful laugh of yours and make your pretty eyes sparkle.
Yes, building all those crazy snow people was a ton of work (thank you for noticing), but I suspect you’re used to doing a lot of work for people that goes unappreciated or unrecognized. You’re worth doing work for. (Also, I am kind of crazy, so I might as well tip my hand now.)
And regarding our last conversation… I don’t know a lot about your ex-husband other than the bare bones of what you told me, but I don’t need to know more. If he left you because you couldn’t have children and made you feel like you’re somehow damaged, he was not good enough for you, not the other way around. (Am I a bad person if I say I’m kind of glad he was terrible, though? If you guys were still happily married, I wouldn’t have a chance with you. If I even do have a chance, that is.)
Anyway, I’m not great with words…
I don’t know about that, Bryn thought, her eyes welling.
And I can’t promise we won’t hurt each other, but what if we don’t? What if we have a lot of fun… and maybe, just maybe, something more?
Seriously hoping you’ll take me up on at least some all of my signs,
Sean
I can’t promise we won’t hurt each other, but what if we don’t? The question hummed and danced in Bryn’s mind, making her heart race and her palms sweat.
She had meant every sad, pathetic word when she told Sean she didn’t think she could bear the risk of so much pain again—but maybe there was something worse: letting fear and self-loathing win and not taking a risk for something you really want.
She still couldn’t see what Sean saw in her, what attracted him—and who knew? Maybe spending more time with him would reveal that her initial feelings were due to alcohol and Christmas induced silliness. Maybe she was the one who would end it. Nevertheless, she found her stride quickening until she was almost running, reading each cabin’s cute little signpost until she found it: Rainbow.
I can’t promise we won’t hurt each other, but what if we don’t? She knew she was beaming as she reached out and knocked on Sean’s door…
Chapter 14
Sean woke before even a hint of sun kissed the navy sky, but he knew it was morning—or hoped it was. For the first time in a long, long time, he couldn’t wait to start the day. He was raring to go, in fact. Then he looked at the clock on the bedside table and laughed at himself. Whether he wanted to or not, he’d have to wait… at least for a bit. His crazy snowmen might have done the trick and thawed some of the hurt-caused ice Bryn had wrapped around her heart for self-protection, but he doubted she’d appreciate him showing up at her door pre-dawn.
He stretched out in the plush bed, thinking it was perfect except for one critical thing: it needed Bryn in it.
He grinned, recalling his surprise when she showed up at his door the morning before. A huge part of him, even while he crafted snowmen and made signs all night, hadn’t believed she would. But now here they were, officially seeing each other—and with a milestone behind them at that. They’d already survived the first big obstacles in their fledgling relationship: her insecurities and very sane desire to protect herself, and his stupid bumbling, over the top, much too enthusiastic pursuit.
They hadn’t touched a lot yesterday, but every look they exchanged and every laugh they shared as they talked and talked and talked felt like a caress.
And their first official “date” yesterday evening? It was like something from a Christmas movie. Callum’s athletic younger brother, Brian, who lived nearby with his pretty wife and two obviously treasured stepchildren, had transformed a small pond on his property into a rink, and Jo had arranged an official skating party.
White lights sparkled through the trees and guided him and Bryn and the other guests down a magical path and over a fairy tale bridge decorated with cedar boughs, ivy and branches of red-berried mountain ash. Sean had wished he’d had a notebook, so he could jot down ideas for Christmas party décor, but then Bryn had sighed softly and he was absolutely and thoroughly pulled back to the moment with her.
The pond was a silver mirror in the darkness, sheltered by a massive spruce tree covered in colored lights. It shone down on a full-size Santa sleigh, with gleaming scarlet sides and shiny brass runners. A burlap sack filled the space behind the driver’s bench, looking like it really did hold a special gift for every good little boy and girl in the world. Plunged into a snowbank near the sled, a rustic wooden sign read, “Reindeer Wanted.”
On the other side of the small frozen pond, a quaint shed with gingerbread trim, also outlined in white lights, announced itself as Santa’s Snack Shack. Sean figured it probably held gardening equipment when it wasn’t doing double duty as a hot chocolate and goodies station. A bonfire blazed nearby, surrounded by log benches.
“Oh,” Bryn gasped.
“Oh, indeed,” Sean whispered back. “But please don’t let this be the bar set in your mind for all our dates.”
“Too late,” she said and winked.
Christmas carols played softly in the deepening night from an unseen sound system, and once their borrowed skates were laced up, Sean stretched his gloved hand out toward Bryn. “May I have this dance?” he asked.
“You may,” she twinkled.
They were both terrible skaters, but that only added to the fun.
“You have to pick me up every five minutes,” she grumbled lightly at one point.
“Exactly my diabolical plan when I invited you,” he’d said in a sinister tone, rubbing his hands together. Bryn laughed so hard she promptly fell again.
At the door to her cabin when they’d returned late, exhausted from using their muscles in a way they normally didn’t, Bryn had raised her mouth to his an
d let him steal the sweetest kiss, tinged with traces of chocolate and marshmallow—and then she’d pulled away and said good night.
“I could stay,” he whispered. “I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Oh, I have no doubt you’ll be good,” Bryn whispered back, her double entendre obvious in her husky, humorous tone. “It’s me I’m worried about.”
That was too big a temptation to ignore. “Well, on that note, how can I say goodnight now?”
She rubbed a finger along his bottom lip, snatching it away just as he moved to lightly nip at it. “You know how some people eat a treat in three big gulps and other people savor theirs, saving it, then unwrapping it and taking a nibble, then maybe another nibble—and then by the time they actually let themselves enjoy it, it’s so intensely good it was worth the build up?”
Sean caught her wrist and lifted it to his mouth, pressing his lips against the cool strip of revealed flesh between the cuff of her jacket and the top of her glove. “I’m usually all about reveling in every moment and the postponement of gratification.”
She sighed very satisfactorily—and even remembering the sound now made him harden.
Sean’s mobile chirped, pulling him out of his memories of the night before. He grabbed the phone from the bedside table where it was charging. Bryn’s name showed in the notifier, along with a nameless number that he didn’t recognize. He stroked Bryn’s name, but the patchy service proved useless as ever. The message, whatever it was, wouldn’t open. Then he realized that if she was sending him any text at all, she had to be up and about because her phone wouldn’t have service in her cabin either.
He leaped out of bed and showered quickly—forgoing a shave because he liked the way Bryn couldn’t keep her hands off his rough stubble. As he headed out into the invigorating air, he couldn’t believe how this week that he’d dreaded all year—the Christmas season—had become the best time he’d had in years, maybe in his whole life.