Silver Bells

by Ev Bishop

  Here it was, just three sleeps before Christmas and rather than wishing the time away, he was desperate to slow it down, to hang onto it. He hoped above hope that Bryn was already at the dining hall, waiting for him, as eager for another day together as he was.

  Chapter 15

  The sun was shining merry and bright, making the whole world a crystal-white wonderland, and the wintery air carried the lovely scent of fresh hay. Whiskey and Schnapps, two gorgeous thick-legged cinnamon-colored horses, stood patiently in front of a shiny blue sled. A young family tumbled down from the plump hay bales, chatting excitedly and thanking the driver.

  Anticipation thrilled through Bryn. She’d never ridden in a sleigh before—and Steve shared her delight. He romped and frolicked around her and Sean’s legs like a dog possessed, and maybe he was. Maybe the Christmas spirit was affecting them both. She’d rarely felt… whatever it was she was constantly feeling the past few days. She couldn’t stop smiling and she was so consistently… warm. Sean, the sight of him, the sound of his low, rumbling laugh and the sensation of his hand so often wrapped around hers, kept her in a constant flush of heat.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  “Right now?”

  “Yes, like right this instant.”

  Bryn glanced down at their interlocked fingers. Each of them wore only one glove, so that they could have skin to skin contact. She recalled their other, longer bout of skin to skin contact that first night and her face flamed.

  “No,” Sean corrected. “Now, I want to know what you’re thinking this instant.”

  She laughed, Steve bounced higher, and the horse closest to her nickered softly.

  Then Callum was there, helping her and Steve up.

  “We really appreciate you arranging for us to have our own personal hay ride—not that one with a group wouldn’t have also been fun.” Sean hefted himself in beside Bryn, then tucked a furry wrap over their legs and made sure Steve was snuggled securely at their feet.

  “It’s my pleasure,” Callum said. “After all, there are hayrides and then there are hayrides.”

  Sean laughed and Bryn shook her head, then adopted a prim British accent. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, but let me remind you, Steve, my chaperone, is very strict.”

  Hearing his name, “strict” Steve popped up and skipped maniacally about on the hay bales.

  “Oh yes, he is formidably stern all right,” Callum agreed, grinning. “You two haven’t missed an activity yet. You’re worth a little spoiling. I noticed you signed up for ice fishing too.”

  “You bet. Wouldn’t miss it,” Sean said. “It’s super fun to be on the sit back and enjoy yourself side of events for once.”

  “I’m embarrassed to say how much I’m enjoying the pampering,” Bryn added. “You and Jo better be careful or you’ll be stuck with us year after—” She broke off, a fresh blush burning her face, one not caused by the sensation of Sean’s long leg and hip pressed alongside hers. She and Sean hadn’t spoken seriously about the future, if they even had one. It was very early days, after all. The last thing she wanted to do was get her hopes way up.

  Too late, her brain said meanly.

  “I can think of worse things,” Callum said, appearing oblivious to her lame, overly eager, transparent hope. He gave Whiskey and Schnapps each a carrot, then stepped out of the way. The quiet, friendly driver, who owned the team, made a clicking sound. The horses sprang forward with light, joyous steps, the bells on their harnesses jingled, and the hay-filled sleigh glided into motion.

  “Hey, don’t you dare feel self-conscious,” Sean whispered, his breath warm on her ear. “I’m already planning future visits here with you too—and if we ever do get married, I’m thinking we’ll need to have a winter wedding with silver bells as decorations. They appear to be a theme for us.”

  Initially Bryn had found the way Sean seemed to read her mind, to know when she was getting nervous or negative, a bit unnerving. The more time they spent together, however, the more she got used to it, even appreciated it.

  He wrapped his arm around her beneath the blanket, then slipped his hand up the back of her jacket and hooked his thumb through one of her belt loops. She nestled closer, grateful for the bells, the swish of the snow, and the horses’ pounding hooves. All the combined noise might, just might, keep the sleigh’s driver from hearing her own racing blood and fevered heartbeat. She was falling too hard, too fast. Was she a total fool?

  “Hey,” Sean said. “It’s not foolish to bask in this.”

  Bryn gave him a sharp look. Maybe he was a literal mind reader, not just a figurative one. “Hey yourself,” she said, intentionally echoing him. “Come here.”

  Sean leaned in obediently, and she put her hands around his neck and kissed him soft and slow.

  “Yeah,” he said when they finally broke apart, “I feel like that too. Exactly.”

  They burrowed deeper into the blankets and Steve jumped onto Bryn’s lap, then demanded an ear rub by bumping her hand repeatedly until she complied.

  Sean laughed. “It’s like he’s saying you’ve given me enough attention and it’s his turn.”

  It was exactly like that and Bryn was happy Sean was the kind of person who found it funny and cute, not intrusive.

  The horses picked up speed until Bryn felt like they were flying. Beyond them, the sun glinted off white-capped mountains, like every summit was studded with diamonds. On either side of them, forests of snow-robed conifers protected them, ancient and serene, acting as a wind break. Above them, the sky—the deep and endless sky—was like a promise. It witnessed all things and experienced every kind of weather, yet remained undaunted and beautiful in every season.

  “I never want to forget any of this, not one second,” Bryn said.

  “We won’t,” Sean replied. “I promise.”

  *

  The twenty-third of December caught Bryn by surprise. How could there only be two more sleeps until Christmas? How could she have already known Sean for four days? How could she have only known him for four days? It felt like they had just met—which was basically true—but also like she’d known him forever. And she wanted to know him forever longer.

  “I need to go into town today,” she announced, helping herself to seconds of something called “Wife Saver” by Jo and “Strata” by Callum, a delicious concoction of eggs, sausage and cubed French bread. “And I should call my mom and dad, see that they got to my sister’s all right.”

  “What a coincidence,” said Sean, grinning. “I also want to go to town and I should see if my family is living it up safely in the sun.”

  “Do you want to go by yourself, or together, or—”

  “Together, for sure. If that works for you.”

  Bryn nodded, ridiculously pleased by the notion of shopping and running errands with Sean, even though, considering the activities of their past few days, it should seem sort of blah. Instead it felt… seductive and momentous somehow, like they’d been teasing their appetites with fun appetizers and now they were moving on to the stuff of real meals.

  “And I was wondering… may I take you out for dinner tonight?”

  Why, after all the time they’d been spending together, would this be a question that made her face heat with pleasure?

  “I’d love that,” she said softly—and remembered the dress she’d brought. “Is it okay if we come back here to get ready before we go out though?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Bryn fetched Steve, whom Jo had kindly volunteered to watch while they were out. Then she and Sean each took a few minutes on the office phone.

  They drove her car into town, and Bryn tried to be chatty on the drive, she really did, but her conversation with her mother had brought her down. Her mom was happy to hear from Bryn and had apologized for what, after thinking about it, must’ve been a “disappointing surprise.” Bryn accepted the apology in the spirit her mom intended it, but then accidentally ment
ioned Sean—and called him “really nice.”

  “Oh dear,” her mother said, like Bryn had said she’d contracted walking pneumonia or something. “Have you told him, this Sean person… your… condition? I hope you don’t get hurt again.”

  Her condition. It wasn’t like she had some infectious terminal disease—and yes, she had told Sean. But it was also true that they hadn’t talked about it in depth, or discussed how it might affect a long-term relationship or possible marriage.

  I hope you don’t get hurt again. She believed her mom really meant that. She knew she did, actually. What her mother didn’t seem to understand was how she hurt Bryn. How the way she acted like Bryn’s being hurt was inevitable because no one could ever love her if she couldn’t bear children was a reoccurring wound. It hurt just as much, maybe even more, than Brad’s rejection ever had.

  “It’ll be fine, Mom,” she’d ended up saying lamely, then wound the conversation up quickly.

  “Bryn? Hello? Hey, Bryn?”

  “I’m sorry, what?” Bryn glanced away from the road, met Sean’s concerned gaze, and scrunched her nose apologetically. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I was out of it for a second.”

  “So I noticed.” He patted her knee, then left his hand resting on her thigh. She tried to put her focus back on the road. At least the highway was maintained today—well cleared, salted and graveled. “Are you okay?” he asked a few minutes later.

  “Yeah, fine.” She fiddled with the heater dial on her dashboard, then sighed and found herself telling Sean about her inner conflicts with her parents and her oh-so-prolific baby-producing siblings. They were almost at the four-way stop leading into the heart of Greenridge when she finished. She’d blathered at him nonstop for almost twenty minutes—no, she’d complained at him. How mortifying! She was not that kind of person. Or she didn’t want to be, anyway.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, coming to a full stop and checking the traffic before proceeding through the intersection. “You must think I’m horribly negative—”

  “Furthest thing from it actually.” Sean’s tone brooked no argument. “And I know I’m eventually going to love your family because they’re a part of you and they created you—but I also want you to know whenever they hurt you, intentionally or not, I’m going to think they suck.”

  Bryn giggled. “Okay… I admit that sounds pretty good.”

  “I’m serious. I’m sure you’re right, that they love you—what’s not to love, after all?”

  Bryn rolled her eyes.

  “But I saw all that stuff you packed for them—and it wasn’t just store bought whatever to fill space under a tree. You baked goodies, brought games to build fun memories with, chose gifts that would have sentimental meaning.”

  Bryn couldn’t deny it, but she didn’t really see how that made her a super hero or anything.

  “You are thoughtful and kind… and not having children to add to the fray? Who cares? You’re still you, whether you procreate or not. The only shame is that they know there’s a physical element. Too bad you couldn’t really throw them for a loop and say you chose not to have kids.”

  Bryn laughed—bitterly, she admitted it. “They’d never believe that in a million years. I remember pushing a pram with great seriousness when I was just three-years-old. I was one of those lame girls who took care of her dolls like they were living people. I planned how many kids I was going to have—three boys and three girls—and named them, created baby books for them, sewed them new clothes all the time…”

  Sean made an odd coughing sound and looked out the window. Bryn felt an old familiar surge of despondency. He did think she was broken and messed up—but then he turned back to her.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice husky. “You weren’t lame at all—and giving up that dream… it must’ve been so hard for you. It must’ve hurt so much.”

  She bit her lip so hard she felt sharp, white pain. “It did,” she said tightly. “It does.”

  It was a relief to have to focus on the road, to have other traffic demanding her attention.

  “We never really talked about the having children issue,” he said as they stopped at another light. “I guess because we’ve just barely gotten together.”

  “You said you wanted them.”

  “I think it’s more that I, like a lot of people I guess, just always sort of assumed I’d have them eventually. I always knew I wanted to get married. I’ve always wanted a long, loyal marriage, something my parents didn’t get because my dad died so young. Children seemed like a foregone conclusion.”

  “You can’t say you’ve just magically changed your mind.” Bryn spiked the gas a little hard as the light turned green.

  “It really, honestly, wouldn’t be a deal breaker for me. Even now, so early on, not knowing where you and I are really going to go from here, I can say that. Also, I wouldn’t be opposed to adopting.”

  “You don’t care if your child isn’t your biological offspring?”

  “Nope—but if that’s an important factor to you, I get it.”

  “But how can you be so sure it wouldn’t matter? What if you didn’t have feelings for the child right away?”

  “I’ve heard that can happen even with your blood children, and maybe for some people it would be a problem.” He shrugged. “I know how I feel about my niece and nephew, though—and I think, even if love didn’t come immediately for some reason, it would show up eventually.”

  Bryn kept her gaze fixed intensely on the road, although there was no one in her turning lane and no one directly behind her.

  “Meanwhile, I’d be there, being Dad, supporting you and our family. I’ve always thought the actions of love are more important, maybe more real, than fuzzy feelings anyway.”

  Shaking her head, overwhelmed with a flood of confusing thoughts, hopes and other miscellaneous emotional mess, Bryn pulled into Greenridge’s shopping mall parking lot and found a pull-through spot. “This… is a lot to take in—and a pretty crazy serious talk for the stage we’re at in our relationship.”

  “Yeah,” Sean said contemplatively. “I wanted to tell you all this—the stuff about being angry at your family for not valuing you more and the kid stuff—before, like on day one, right when it came up, but it did seem too early.”

  Bryn turned the car off, but they lingered a moment, seatbelts still on. “And it doesn’t seem too early now?” She knew her tone sounded slightly mocking and that she was compensating for how out of her depth she felt.

  Sean turned to her and his face, which had been so serious and empathetic, split in a wide, teasing grin. His eyebrow rose. “Too early? Now? What are you talking about? In days, it’s like our fifth anniversary already. Keep up, woman.”

  Something light and buoyant went poof inside Bryn. That’s the only way she could describe the ballooning happiness. Poof! Sean hadn’t said it would be easy to figure out the family thing. He’d even, at his most serious, shown he realized that they might not be a lasting couple… but she believed his words and his unspoken sentiment.

  If and when a time to discuss a family—their family—ever arose, they’d figure it out. He really didn’t see her as defective or broken or somehow less than other women. Her infertility wouldn’t be, as he called it, a “deal breaker.”

  They bought some grocery treats together, planning a little Christmas Eve snack night to take place after their ice fishing gallivant, and purchased a massive round of triple cream brie and a bottle of port to contribute to the River’s Sigh feast.

  Sean left her for a bit to check on the status of his truck’s parts, and Bryn used the opportunity to buy a string of lights and some little bells for the tree they were going to get. Then she came across a fresh flower vendor selling cute little balls of mistletoe tied up with plaid ribbon that she absolutely couldn’t resist.

  When they rejoined each other, it was back to River’s Sigh to get ready for dinner.

  Bryn straightened her hair, abandoning h
er usual ponytail, and wore her new dress—a little black number that she never would’ve bought in a million years except for her friend Kelli’s absolute insistence. As she primped, she actually felt… pretty. And then Sean saw her. He took in the dress’s low neckline, plunging back, and flirty skirt with appreciative eyes. Then he gave a low whistle. She felt… beautiful. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her shoulder, then the back of her neck, then her earlobe…

  “We don’t have to go out,” he whispered against her skin.

  “You might not have to, I might not have to,” she whispered back. “But this dress? It is not a staying in kinda deal.”

  They visited a little Indian place where they munched on crispy pakora and sipped apple cider while they waited for their main courses: spicy chicken tikka for her, creamy butter chicken for him. And in some weird way, in this unfamiliar town and new-to-her restaurant, hours from her condo, her job and her regular life, Bryn had the strangest feeling of being home.

  In bed later that night, Bryn thought back over the week and tried to pick out a favorite moment, the one that she’d treasure most, regardless of what the future held. She was surprised to single it out immediately and without question. Even with all the romantic contenders—that sweetly sexy first night, the enchanting walk to the magical pond and skating under the stars, the dreamy hay ride—there was no competition. She prized their conversation in her cramped car above all—and how it freed her.

  Chapter 16

  Christmas Eve dawned cold and clear, and Sean couldn’t bundle up and get out of Rainbow cabin fast enough.

  He recognized the euphoric feeling rioting through him, the same way a person can always find a light switch in his own home, no matter how dark it is. He was falling in love with Bryn—or, more accurately, was already in love with her. He loved her. Couldn’t imagine not spending every day with her. Was he nuts? Possibly. Did he care? Not one bit.

  He whistled as he took the trail to the parking lot. There wasn’t a soul to be seen by the van, however. He’d beaten everyone else in the ice-fishing group to the meet up spot. He was about to jog over to Trout to surprise Bryn when two icy hands slid up the back of his jacket, beneath his shirt.