Frosty ... The Real Man

by CJ England

  He held her tightly. “And me, Ami? What do you feel for me?” He waited, but got no answer. Her body slowly relaxed and he knew she had fallen asleep. Copious tears filled his eyes and streamed down his cheeks as he felt the call from above. Whatever she might have felt for him...

  It was too late.

  * * * *

  When Amy awoke she could tell by the light flirting through the window that she had slept for several hours. Yawning, she shivered under the heavy covers. Why was she so cold? Givré's body heat always kept her warm, even though he was cool to the touch. She reached out a hand but found nothing. Scooting over, she gasped as she rolled into a pool of water.

  Hurriedly, she turned on the lamp and threw back the covers. Fear shot through her at the sight that met her eyes. Her sheets were drenched, water standing in puddles between the wrinkles. Slowly she leaned over and her numb fingers picked up two shiny black rocks. Her heart stopped. They were the same black stones she had used to make her snowman's eyes. Realization made the room spin. Givré was no more. He'd melted in her bed like the snowman he'd been created from.

  "No, no, no,” she moaned. She squeezed her eyes closed. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be gone. She was having a nightmare and very soon, she'd wake up and be in his arms again, holding him, loving him. She opened her eyes and waited, staring at the sodden bedclothes. After several minutes ticked by, tears welled up in her eyes.

  It was no dream. He was really gone.

  A whimper escaped her and she bit her lip until she tasted blood. It couldn't be! She wouldn't accept it. She couldn't lose him. In a panic, she scrambled off the bed. She pulled on the closest bit of clothing she could find, which happened to be Givré's tuxedo jacket. Then, curling her cold fingers around the two stones in her hand, she ran from the room.

  New snow blanketed the town on this early Christmas morning, but Amy couldn't see it through her tears. She stumbled barefoot out of the house and down the icy walk to where the remnants of the other two snowmen still stood. She fell to her knees in the snow and grabbed up an armful. “I've got to get you back,” she sobbed wildly. “Where are you? Please, Givré. I need you."

  Out of her mind with grief, she set about remaking her snowman. With fingers numb from the snow she piled snow, carving and patting until the figure stood tall before her. Her lips were blue with cold and her hands shook badly as she started the detail work. Again, she imagined him in her mind, starting at his toes and working her way up. There was no laughter, no jokes this time, as she formed his shaft and balls. Only silent tears that froze on her cheeks as she wept them.

  By the time she got to his face, she was reeling from cold and fatigue. With her fingernails she lovingly crafted his features, praying again and again for him to come back to her. The last stars of the night watched, as she carved out the eye sockets and put the same two stones in place. Then with a flick of her nail, she gave him the cleft in his chin that she loved nibbling on.

  She took a step back and cried out from the pain in her feet. They felt like chunks of ice as she again went to her knees. Looking up at him, more tears filled her eyes. It was close, but her numbed fingers couldn't give him the detail that she wanted. Would this image be enough? Was there any chance at all of getting him back?

  Struggling to her feet, she staggered back over to her snowman. Trying to remember the words she'd said before, she reached up and laid her icy lips against his frozen ones, whispering ... “I wish you were real. Please Givré. Come back to me."

  She laid her head on his chest, shivering so hard, she ached, but she waited, hoping beyond hope that it would work. Seconds went by, then minutes, then a half hour ... without any change.

  With a moan, Amy sank to the ground at the snowman's feet. The knowledge that she'd failed was too much for her. She burst into tears as she wrapped her arms around the figure. “Please, Givré,” she wept brokenly. “Don't go.” She laid her head against his icy knees, her tears dotting the carved snow of his feet. “I'll not make it without you,” she cried, knowing it was true. Without him, she wasn't whole.

  She continued to cry, her broken heart falling to pieces like the snow falling from the sky. Slowly, she began to sag to the ground as a great tiredness came over her. She clutched at her snowman's feet. “Please, Givré,” she pleaded one more time. “I need you. I want you.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “I ... love ... you."

  There was utter silence in the yard. The only sounds were the snow falling and the soft shallow breaths that shuddered in Amy's chest. The morning sun finally peeked over the horizon, its light touching the frozen woman lying with her arms clutching protectively around a snowman.

  Suddenly, warm arms wrapped around Amy's frozen body. She moaned as even warmer lips covered her icy ones. She wanted to open her eyes, but she couldn't. They were too heavy, too weighted down by sorrow. Then those lips hovered over each eye, breathing the warm breath of life down on her frozen skin. Slowly, with great effort she opened her eyes.

  It was her snowman who held her tightly in his arms, his loving face gazing down at her. She wanted to smile, but she couldn't. Instead, her eyes filled again with tears. “Giv ... ré?"

  "Oui ... ma ange."

  "Don't ... leave..."

  He crushed her to him. “Never again, Ami. Never again."

  She tried to speak, but a shudder wracked her body. With a curse, he lifted her and walked, gloriously naked, up the walk and into her house. He didn't stop, but continued straight to the shower, turning it on to a warm temperature. He looked down at her pale face and his own eyes smarted. He'd come so close to losing her, he wasn't going to let her die from pneumonia now. Quickly he peeled the ruined tux jacket off of her.

  Stepping into the shower, he held her under the spray, being careful not to immerse her hands or feet. He didn't know how long she'd been out in the snow, but her features had the pinched look of hypothermia and her extremities were dead white. Soon she began to cry again, this time from the pain as she began to regain feeling in her hands and feet.

  "Shhh,” he soothed, as he carefully, massaged the affected areas. “It will soon be better, cherie. Do not cry. I am here."

  "Givré,” she whispered as she tucked her face into his neck. “If this is a dream ... I don't want ... to wake up."

  He kissed the top of her head and moved so more hot water could spray down on her. Her moan of delight made him smile. “I am no dream, Ami. I am here. Do not weep so."

  "But you left me,” she sobbed, all the pain and fear again welling up in her. “I can't go through this again."

  "Shhh, shhh, amour,” he murmured catching her salty tears with the tip of his tongue. “I will not leave you ... not until we are old and gray."

  Amy blinked up at him, hearing his words, but afraid to believe them. “I don't ... understand."

  "I will explain everything. But first let us make sure you are well. How do you feel?"

  She wriggled her fingers cautiously. “They're sore, but not too bad.” She moved her feet and grimaced in pain. “Ouch! I think I should stay off of them for awhile."

  Givré swore in his own tongue. “You should know better than to go outside in such a way. What were you thinking?"

  Amy's eyes filled again. “I wasn't thinking. I was trying to find you."

  His eyes darkened and he bent to kiss her. When his mouth touched hers, all thought of being cold or in pain disappeared. He was real and he was back. She didn't know for how long, but she would take whatever he would give her. When he broke the kiss, she glanced up at him through her eyelashes. “I love you, Givré. More than anything or anyone."

  Dark eyes swirled with emotion and he crushed her to him a second time. “Do not forget that thought, ma ange.” He lifted her out of the shower and wrapped her in a towel before sitting her down on the sink counter. Quickly he dried himself. “Let us get you into a warm bed."

  She nodded and then blinked. “My bed is wet.” Her eyes misted. “You melted all over i
t."

  He frowned at her words. Wrapping a second towel around her shoulders, he kissed her gently. “Do not move. I will start a fire and be right back."

  Amy could hear him moving around, but the warmth of the bathroom lulled her to sleep. She bit her lip again, wincing at the bite mark from earlier. She was abruptly terrified that she was imagining everything.

  "Givré?” she called out, panic in her voice.

  He appeared instantly, standing at the door dressed in a pair of navy sweatpants. “I am here, Ami.” Lifting her, he carried her into the living room and settled her on a thick pad of blankets near the fire. Quickly, he finished starting the fire, and then turned back to her.

  "I have warm clothes for you, cherie. Let me help you.” Efficiently, he helped her into a warm pair of teal sweatpants and matching shirt. Then he pulled out a pair of his own thick wool socks and gently put them on her painful feet. “Is that better?"

  She nodded.

  "Wrap this around your wet hair,” he ordered, giving her a dry towel. “I will make us both something hot to drink."

  She grabbed him as he moved to stand up. “No!” Her voice still held remnants of fear in it.

  He sat back down and gathered her against him. “Be easy, Ami. I am not going anywhere, this I swear to you."

  She buried her face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. “Is it you? Is it really you?"

  He chuckled. “It is I.” He kissed her gently. “Do you feel better now? Warmer?"

  Amy nodded, her mind more on him than on herself. “What happened? Where did you go?"

  He leaned back against the couch, and began to dry her hair with the towel. “I didn't want to leave you, ma ange.” He sighed. “One minute I was lying in our bed, still buried deep inside of you, then next thing I knew, I was weeping, feeling my tears wet the bedclothes beneath me. Then I was back in the sky ... back in limbo.” His handsome face hardened. “I could only watch when you awoke to find me gone. I ached to be with you, but I couldn't."

  Amy felt tears start again. “I couldn't believe it. We were so happy, and then ... you were gone.” She looked up at him. “I couldn't bear it. I had to see if I could get you back."

  "And almost killed yourself doing so.” He glared at her. “Do you know how it felt to watch you and be unable to do anything about it?"

  She stared at him in confusion. “But you did ... you came back."

  "Cherie ... as I watched you struggle I cried out to God to be able to help you. I received no answer at first, but eventually my shouts were heard."

  "Heard?"

  "Oui ... An angel of the Lord appeared. He asked me what I wanted. When I told him I loved you and wanted to go back to you, he told me that my loving you was not enough.” He shook his head and pulled her long hair away from her face. “I was furious ... frightened ... éperdu. I begged him to let me go to you. I told him I would do anything; make any sacrifice necessary to make sure you were all right."

  A single crystalline tear rolled down her cheek. “What ... what did he say?"

  Givré shrugged. “He was sympathetic, but still, he could not do anything. He believed that I loved you, yet it was not to be."

  "I don't understand ... you did come back."

  Lifting her gently, he cradled her in his lap. “It was not I who brought me back, ma ange. I was willing, and that too is necessary, but you had to want me as well."

  Amy stared at him in shock. “But I did want you with me. Our time together was so special, so precious. I almost died when I lost you."

  He bent and caressed her lips with his own. “But you did not say the one thing that would keep me with you. And because of that I was sent back to the sky."

  "I still don't understand."

  "Ami ... there is magic in words, just as there is in the first snow on Christmas day. You built the snowman out of that magical snow. And then ... when you lay sobbing in the snow, thinking you had lost me forever, your heart finally opened up. You let love chase away your fear."

  Suddenly, she understood. “I said that I loved you."

  He smiled broadly. “Oui ... and it was those magical words that brought me back to you. Love is stronger than anything, Ami. You loved me enough to open your heart to me. I am Christmas spirit no more. Truly I am ... a real man."

  Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his groin and he laughed. “I am the same man that came to you before, Ami. I kept the form that you created for me ... in all ways."

  She burst into happy tears, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight. “You can stay? Forever?"

  He laughed, his joy shining in his dark eyes. “As long as you will have me. I love you, Ami. We were meant to be together. Perhaps it was why I was made a Christmas spirit ... so I could wait for the one who completed me."

  "I can't believe it. I was so frightened. I thought I'd lost you."

  "Have no doubt about it. You did lose me. If you had not shared your heart, I would not be here now."

  Her throat closed at the thought that her cowardice had separated them. “I'm so sorry!"

  "On pardonne tant que l'on aime,” he whispered. “Where there is love, there is forgiveness."

  "I love you, Givré,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his throat. “I was just too afraid to say it."

  "I knew that you cared, ma cherie, but I was not sure how much."

  "You were the brave one.” She grinned at him. “You told me you loved me in front of hundreds of people."

  "And I will say it again...” He bent and kissed her deeply. “And again ... and again.” His hand stroked under her sweatshirt to caress her side, and she felt for the first time that he'd lost the cool chill of the snowman form. Instead his hand was warm and soothing on her skin. Suddenly, he stiffened. “Mon Dieu,” he groaned. “I almost forgot!"

  He jumped to his feet and sped back to the bathroom, leaving Amy blinking behind him. She heard him rummaging around and then he came back out, carrying the sopping tuxedo jacket. She shook her head. “It's too late to fix it. We put down a cleaning deposit, so don't worry."

  Givré rolled his eyes and swore under his breath. “I do not worry about the jacket. I must look in the bedroom. It better be there."

  "What?” she queried in confusion. “What better be there?"

  Ignoring her, he disappeared into her room. “You had to choose my jacket to wear? I do not wish to go back outside in this cold for searching."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Her answer was more French curse words and she frowned. What was going on, now?

  "Ah ha!” He gave a shout of triumph. “I have found it!” He appeared in the door. “You are forgiven for ruining my coat."

  "Thanks,” she said dryly. “I'm so glad."

  He strode over, his eyes alight with happiness. With a deep masculine laugh that showed his satisfaction, he sat down, tumbling her to the blanket beneath him. He rubbed his whiskered chin gently against her. “I was worried that I had lost your Christmas gift."

  She went still. “You ... bought me ... a gift?"

  Givré nibbled on her lower lip. “Oui ... I prayed that a miracle would happen and I would be able to be with you on Christmas morning.” His warm tongue eased between her lips, and she shivered at his deep kiss. “You are that miracle, Ami."

  "I didn't get you anything.” Her face drooped and then just as quickly brightened. “But I'll give you the Christmas spirit carving. It's not much, but it was done with love."

  "What is this?” He reared back and stared at her. “You are fou ... crazy. I will accept the gift because you carved it with love, but you gave me life, ma ange. What gift could be better than that?"

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I love you. So much."

  "And I love you.” His face turned serious. “We fell in love very quickly, Ami. But I know it is real. I wish to be with you always. I do not ever want to lose you."

  "You won't.” She brushed the hair from his face. “I want to be with
you, too."

  He nodded. “Then I ask you this ... Ami.” He lifted his hand and opening it, held out a small black jeweler's box. With a finger, he flicked it open and the contents shimmered in the firelight. “M'épouserez-vous ... will you marry me?"

  Amy's eyes filled with tears. She stared down at the ring and her hand went to the diamond snowflake at the hollow of her throat. They were an exact match, the ring only being the size of a dime instead of a quarter. The wonder of it filled her heart. “You bought this for me ... at the same time?"

  He swallowed, his own emotions swirling in his coal black eyes. “I loved you then, Ami. I love you now.” He pulled the ring from the box, and slipped it on her finger. “Will you be mine ... forever?"

  Amy smiled, her joy threatening to burst out of her. He wasn't perfect, but she wasn't looking for perfect. She wanted a real man. One who made her heart race and her toes curl. A man who loved her and wanted to treat her right. Knowing that she had finally found the love she was looking for, Ami looked up into Givre's smoky eyes. There could only be one answer.

  "Oh, yes!"

  Epilogue

  Later on, we'll conspire, as we dream by the fire

  To face unafraid, the plans that we've made, walking in a winter wonderland

  'Winter Wonderland'

  "Well, Givré.” The woman reporter looked up from her notepad. “May I call you Givré?"

  "Of course, Mademoiselle, please."

  "You have certainly taken the Aspen community by storm and there are rumors that you will be having an art show in New York very soon. How does it feel to be called...” she checked her notes ... “a breath of fresh air for French Impressionism?"

  Givré smiled. “Ms. Mendelson...” He smiled sexily at the blushing woman. “Suzanne ... I care not for labels. It is the art that counts."

  "But you must be pleased with how well you've been received. Didn't the critics say you were a worthy vessel for your ancestor's genius?"

  His smile grew wider. “Oui ... my talent is how you say ... in my pants."

  The reporter's mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?” Her eyes dropped to his tight fitting trousers.