by CJ England
"I think what my husband means...” Amy laughed as she slipped a hand into the crook of Givré's arm, “...is his talent is in his genes ... in his blood."
"Oh.” The woman fanned herself and then grinned. “I'd love to quote you on that, but I don't think my publisher would let me. I, however, and most of the female population of the world would love to know exactly what is in your ... ummm ... genes."
Amy chuckled at the confused look on her husband's face. “Sorry, that information is proprietary.” She leaned up and kissed Givré's cheek, and then whispered, “But I have to say that the talent you have in your pants is pretty damn fine too!"
His dark eyes flared as he finally understood. “Is that so, ma ange. Perhaps I can show you this talent ... later on tonight?"
"Bet on it!"
"Is it true that Givré proposed to you on Christmas day?"
Amy smiled and held out her beautiful wedding set. The snowflake engagement ring had been joined by a gold wedding band that was also circled with tiny snowflakes. Givré wore a larger, matching one. “Yes ... he is very romantic."
The woman sighed. “He is French."
Amy stared up at her handsome husband. “He's more than just French.” Her dimples flashed. “He's a real man!"
Givré's eyes darkened at their secret code for I love you, and with a muttered apology to the reporter, he swept Amy into his arms and kissed her. Deeply and lovingly, as if it were the very first time. Their breath mingled, their hearts beat together in the rhythm of love. Flashbulbs went off and every woman who watched sighed enviously.
"Je t'adore,” he murmured hoarsely. “Let us leave now. Go home and faire l'amour ... make love until the Christmas bells ring in the morning light."
Amy sighed, burying her head in his chest. “We've been through this before. We can't leave until after the presentation."
"They can do without. I want you to myself."
"Givré, you can't be selfish. People have come here to see this. We can't disappoint them."
His eyes narrowed. “Then it must soon be over. I am impatient to feel your body beneath mine."
She flushed and looked over at the reporter who was pretending not to hear a word. “Can we just keep that between ourselves?"
He laughed, the sound deep and masculine. “After all this time, you are still shy, my bride? After all ... it will be a year that we have been married when the clock chimes the Christmas hour."
Suzanne gasped and they both turned to her. “That's right. You were married on the same day as he proposed. Now that is romantic."
Givré lifted Amy's hand to his lips. “I could not wait a moment longer to make her mine. I had gotten the license earlier that week, just in case."
"It's like a fairytale, isn't it,” the woman marveled.
Amy nodded and pressed her cheek against Givré's hand. “Yes, in every way.” And the reporter was right. It was a fairytale, starting with the wedding. Amy wasn't sure how he'd done it, but on Christmas night, she found herself in her beautiful white dress standing at the footbridge with her handsome snowman. Givré had cajoled a store owner into opening so he could get a second tuxedo and through Julie and Sophia, he had invited all Amy's closest friends.
They spoke their vows as the magical Christmas snow floated lazily down upon them, and candles held by the guests, glittered in the darkness. When Givré took her face between his strong hands and kissed her lovingly, Amy knew she'd finally come home.
They took their honeymoon in ... of course ... Paris, waiting until the springtime, so Givré could once again, sit by the river Seine and paint the beautiful scenery.
It had taken that long to get proper (fake) papers proving his identity. He had kept the name Beauchamp as his surname and Amy had gladly changed hers to his. He chose the name she had given him ... Givre ... to be the one placed on his birth certificate. They also decided that he shouldn't lose his ancestry, and so he'd made himself his own great-great-great grandson. He often chuckled at the irony of claiming to carry his own blood in his veins.
They'd decided to stay in Aspen. Amy continued with her ice carving. The award and the romantic tale of her very own Christmas spirit was such good publicity, she had to take on more employees to keep up with the demand. Givré helped out when he could, but she encouraged him to paint right away. Realizing the apartment was too small, they bought a larger house with a studio for him.
It wasn't long before it was known that Amy wasn't the only artist in the family. A reporter from Artists Today, a well known national magazine, happened to see him painting in the town square and did a short article on the ancestor of Jean-Marc Beauchamp.
The picture Givré allowed him to take was printed in the magazine and wire services from all over the country picked it up. Art aficionados drooled over it, calling him the reincarnation of his ancestor, along with a few even more flowery compliments. Even critics of Impressionism didn't have much negative to say. They too, knew genius when they saw it.
Just a few weeks ago, the proprietor from one of the largest galleries in New York had come to call, and when he left, Givré was standing speechless with a contract in his hand for three exclusive showings over the next two years.
Now, as Amy looked up into the ebony eyes of the man she'd fallen for, she thanked God all over again. “You know, Suzanne,” she said as she turned to the reporter. “It was all because of the Christmas spirit.” She looked back at Givré. “My husband showed it to me and I've never forgotten what he's taught me."
"Attention!” The master of ceremonies voice came over the loud speaker. “Will the award winners please come forward?"
Givré sighed. “I suppose this is it."
Amy grabbed his hand. “It will all be over soon.” Together, they made their way to the stage.
"I still would rather be home in bed with you, Ami."
She giggled. “Shhh.” Standing on tip-toes, she kissed him. “I love you very much!"
His eyes flared with heat. “You are not getting rid of me so easy.” Surprising her, he lifted her into his arms, and walked up the stairs of the stage. The crowd applauded wildly.
"Let me down,” she hissed.
"Certainement,” he retorted with a grin as he let her slide to the floor. “We will stand together."
Moments later, the lights went down and J.D. Dallas was again standing before them. “Hello folks.” He grinned at Amy and Givré. “Looks like Déjà vu this Christmas eve. Last year these two were on the stage, as well."
He turned to the audience. “This year, with the urging of some of the artists of the community, the Aspen Art Foundation that puts on the Aspen Wonderland Festival Awards, decided to add another category of winners. For the first year, we are including, The Rising Star Award, given to the best new artist of the year.” He turned and beamed at Amy and Givré.
"This year the award goes to a virtual newcomer in our community, but his talent is as old and impressive as the paintings he creates. I give you Givré Beauchamp and his beautiful work ... Mon Ange Affectueux or in English ... My Loving Angel."
With a flourish, he swept the covering from the painting and the crowd gasped in pleasure.
It was a painting of Amy. She wore a pale blue flowing gown, and her hair was down around her shoulders. She sat in a field of white flowers that made it look as if she was sitting in a drift of fragrant snow. Her arms were raised to the sky, hands outstretched, as if she were touching something beyond sight. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were parted in a slight smile. She was overwhelmingly beautiful and her expression was one of utter happiness.
Above her, so small you had to lean close to see it, was a single exquisite snowflake just touching the tips of her fingers.
The painting was full of light and color, yet it had a mystical quality seen in so many of Givré's first Paris paintings. Looking at it and the woman who'd inspired it; it was easy to see his loving touch on both of them.
Amy stroked his arm. “It's lovely
, Givré. A wonderful surprise."
Seeing the tears in her eyes, he pulled her into his arms. “Does it make you sad, or happy?"
She touched his cheek. “To know that is the way you see me? I can't think of a more beautiful compliment."
He bent and brushed his lips over hers. “Merry Christmas, ma ange ... It was painted for you."
A tear traced its way down her cheek. “For me?"
"Oui! We still have the statue you carved of me in your studio icebox.” He used a finger to lift the tear from her soft cheek. “You said it was my Christmas gift from you. This Christmas I wished to return the favor. Comprenez-vous?"
"Oh, Givré. Are you sure?"
He smiled. “I will allow them to show the painting in New York so all can see what a beautiful wife I have, but then it is coming home with us. I will hang it above the fireplace, so we can both remember our first Christmas together."
She leaned up and kissed him, brushing her tongue against his lower lip. “Entre deux coeurs qui s'aiment, nul besoin de paroles."
He caught her to him; his own eyes were suspiciously moist. “Two hearts in love, need no words.” He kissed her again. “But it was your words that brought us together ... forever. You can say them as often as you like."
Amy smiled. “I love you, Givré ... my real man. Forever."
"Je t'aime, Amy, my angel in the snow. Forever."
Their lips met in another loving kiss. Then together, they turned to face the audience and their future. It would be as cool and perfect as an ice sculpture and as beautiful and mysterious as an impressionist painting. But most importantly, it would be filled with the true magic of love and the joy of the Christmas spirit, each and every day of their lives.
The End
And so I'm offering this simple phrase, to kids from one to ninety-two
Although it's been said, many times, many ways ... Merry Christmas to you.
'The Christmas Song'
As a fun extra ... continue on for a French Translation Guide and the delicious recipe for
Frosty's Butterscotch Cookies
French Translation Guide
Affamé ... Hungry
Ami ... Amy
Amour ... Love
Amoureux ... Lovers
Arrêtez ceci ... Stop this
Baise ... to fuck
Beautés Colorées ... Colorful Beauties
Belle ... Beautiful
Bon ... Good
Café ... Coffee
Certainement ... Certainly
C'est impossible ... It is impossible
C'est la vie ... It is life
Chocolat ... Chocolate
Comprenez ... Understand
Damnez-le ... Damn it
Déjà vu ... Already seen
Entre deux coeurs qui s'aiment, nul besoin de paroles ... Two hearts in love need no words
Eperdu ... Distraught
Faire l'amour ... Make love
Fini ... Finished
Fou ... Crazy
Franc ... cent (form of money)
Froid ... Cold
Givré ... Frosty
J'aime faire l'amour avec vous ... I love making love with you
Je t'adore / Je t'aime ... I love you
Je promets ... I promise
Je suis dans l'amour avec vous ... I am in love with you
Je suis désolé. Pardonnez-moi ... I am sorry. Forgive me
Je vous veux ... I want you
Joyeux Noël ... Merry Christmas
Les snowmen ... snowman
Le temps d'arrêt, ainsi moi peut défaire le mal ... Stop time so I may undo the wrong
Ma amour ... My love désolé
Ma ange ... My Angel
Ma cherie ... My darling
Mademoiselle ... Miss (title)
Magnifique ... Splendid
Mangeur d'homme ... Man eaters
Magicien ... Magician
Mauvaise humeur ... My tantrum
M'épouserez-vous ... Will you marry me
Merci ... Thank You
Merde ... Shit
Merveilleux ... Marvelous
Mon Ange Affectueux ... My Loving Angel
Mon Ami doux ... My sweet Amy
Mon Dieu ... My God
Mon Givré beau ... My Handsome Frosty
N'est pas ce vari ... Isn't that true
Non ... No
On pardonne tant que l'on aime ... Where there is love, there is forgiveness
Oui ... Yes
Parfait ... Perfect
Réchauffeur ... Warmer
Rien n'est impossible ... Nothing is impossible
Remerciez un dieu ... Thank God
Si belle ... So beautiful
Spécial ... Special
Très bon ... Very good.
Très important ... Very important
Triste ... Sad
Trou de cul ... Asshole
Un vrai home ... A real man
Vous ne serez pas ... You will not be sorry
The translations in this book came from the AltaVista—Babel fish Translation Program
babelfish.altavista.com/
The author used this program in good faith and is not responsible for any mistranslations in the story.
Frosty's Favorite Butterscotch Cookies
Ingredients:
1/2 cup Butterscotch chips
1/2 rice crispies
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 tablespoon baking soda
1/4 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup butterscotch chips
1/2 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup white sugar
1 Egg
1/2 cup butter, softened
3 to 4 tablespoons of your favorite brewed coffee
Instructions for “Cookies in a jar":
Layer ingredients in a quart mason type jar, in the order given above. Screw the lid on the jar, and cover with a circle of holiday fabric or a paper doily. Finish with a yarn or ribbon.
Baking Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, cream 1/2 cup butter or margarine. Add 1 egg and 2 to 4 tablespoons of cooled strongly brewed Frosty's Favorite Butterscotch coffee. Add all other ingredients and stir until blended. Drop dough by spoonfuls onto an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for 12 minutes until edges are lightly browned. Remove from oven and cool on a wired rack.
(Contributed by my number one fan ... Pat Sager ... who is just as sweet as any Christmas Cookie)
AUTHOR INFORMATION
CJ ENGLAND
cjengland.com
CJ credits her passion for writing, to her second grade sweetheart, Steven, a blond haired cutie with dimples, who dumped her for a girl who could swing on the monkey bars. She wrote her first story about love and loss after that tragic episode.
CJ says her hope is that her books will spark the imaginations of her readers. And that somewhere, in their hearts and souls, they too will begin to believe that anything can happen ... if you Follow your Dreams.
Look for these other titles by CJ England:
Luck is a Lady
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If you liked this book, why not check out some of the other titles at Forbidden Publications. We offer a wide variety of books for all your reading pleasures.
www.forbiddenpublications.com
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