“Sorry, miss, didn’t mean to take you by surprise,” he says loudly, since I’ve absolutely not rolled down my window. “I’m Dan, the property manager, you Holly O’Brian?”
Oh, Dan. Dan is who I booked this rental through.
I roll my window down to confirm that, yes, I am Holly O’Brian, to which he responds with a silent head nod. He meets me at the back of my car and offers to help me with my things.
“Watch your step. Even though I’ve shoveled the walk and salted the stairs, I’m gonna need you to go slow and hold onto the railing.”
His voice is brusque, but his words show care. And I do take it extra careful; last thing I need is a trip to the emergency room because my clumsy ass fell down some slippery steps. Dan takes a few minutes to show me the basics of the little house: where the wood is, how to start a fire, the thermostat in case I don’t want a fire, linens, etc., etc.
“My wife and I live next door, but even that’s too far for you to be trekking out to,” he tells me, back at the front door.
“Oh, that’s alright, I think I’ll be just fine,” I assure him.
He pauses, looking me up and down, then, apparently deciding not to say what he’s thinking, gives me a nod and heads out.
“Our number’s on the fridge, my wife’s name is Sasha, call us if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” I watch him head away from the door and trudge through the snow, wondering if he’s trekking home.
Oh, well.
I shut the door and lean my back against it, taking in the place. There’s hardwood floors throughout with thick rugs scattered and mismatched across the area. The fireplace is big, taking up most of one wall, the rest of the space covered in a couch and two leather chairs. There’s a small television on a table in the corner next to the fireplace and I wonder if they even have cable here, and on the coffee table, little wooden games and puzzles. Through the living room is the kitchen and it’s small, with pine-knotted cabinets, but has everything one could need. Off the kitchen is the staircase and up the stairs are two rooms, one of which is the master bedroom and, yes, there is a window seat with a cushion and a plethora of throw pillows, and I cannot wait to curl up there. I brought a bag of books, never wanting to be without reading material. There is one shower, and it’s upstairs, right next to an old, deep tub.
Yes, I am going to be just fine here.
First thing I do is put away all my food. I may have overbought just a tad, but I really didn’t want to have to go into town for anything, and I figured I could just take what I didn’t eat back home with me. Next, I grab my laptop, my cell phone, and a book, and settle into the sofa with a blanket. Dan had started a fire in the fireplace before leaving, so the room is toasty warm already.
Thirty minutes later, I’m hungry, so I fix up some cheese and crackers, and go back to my sofa. Thirty minutes after that, I’m thirsty, so I get up to get a big glass of water. Thirty minutes after that, I admit to myself I am bored. I’d read nearly half my book and could hardly tell you what’s happening in the story. Maybe I’m not so much bored as I am distracted. What was supposed to be a quiet getaway for myself was perhaps going to be a test of my mental fortitude. Could I make it three days without obsessing over thoughts of Dean Slade and all the drama he’d brought into my life? We shall see.
Once I discover there is Wi-Fi and cable, I am much better off. I settle in for a marathon of The Crown on Netflix and eat ‘til midnight, where I pass out on the couch in front of the fire and under a fuzzy blanket.
I wake with a crick in my neck and an ache in my back, but no headache. Score one for fresh, mountain air. Outside, everything is white. I can feel just how cold it is out there when I press my hand to the window and decide to go ahead and stick to my plan of staying inside today.
It’s Christmas Eve. No doubt there’d be an endless loop of sappy, Christmas movies on television, and I wanted no part of that. I opt, instead, to start the day with a warm bath and oatmeal. I was feet up in one of the chairs (the one that faced the front window), the world’s fuzziest socks on my feet, when I see someone headed towards the front door. It isn’t Dan, because this person is smaller, but I couldn’t figure anything else out about the person because he or she is covered head to toe in winter gear.
The voice in my head says, be alert, this is a stranger, and you are in the middle of a snowy forest.
But then I hear, “Holly? It’s Sasha, Dan’s wife, I’ve just brought some fresh bread over, hopefully it’s still warm.”
She speaks to the closed door, but when I hear “fresh bread”, I hop out of the chair and open the door wide.
“Hi.”
“Well, hello,” she greets me back.
I invite her (and the amazing-smelling bread) in from out of the cold. She’s a couple of inches taller than me with dark brown eyes, dark skin, and hair even curlier than mine poking out from under her beanie.
“So, I’m Sasha,” she reintroduces herself.
“Holly. Not to be weird, but that bread smells incredible.” She laughs at my response, but I honestly cannot take my eyes off the wrapped-up loaf in her hands.
“Well, enjoy,” she says, passing the loaf off to me. “How was your night? Did you stay warm enough?”
“Oh, yes,” I tell her, waving her further in to the kitchen, where I peel back the bread’s wrapping and stick my nose right up against it to take a whiff. “It was perfect.”
I straighten up and smile at her. “Would you like a piece?”
“Oh, no, I’m good, thanks,” she pulls the beanie off her head and her hair does a boing move that I’m very familiar with.
“You, too, have the curse of the curl, huh?” I say, gesturing towards her hair.
“It is a curse and a blessing, isn’t it?” She takes a seat at a barstool, but leaves her jacket on. “So, honestly, my husband was kinda worried about a pregnant woman staying here all alone and sent me over to check on you.”
“Oh.” I pause mid-butter and look at her. “I’m fine.”
She bites her lip, chewing on her words.
“Go ahead, ask away,” I encourage her.
“Is, uh, he not around?” We all know who she’s referring to when she says ‘he’.
“He’s a Marine,” I say, and then stumble, because…why did I even say that?
When Sasha’s face gets soft with (misled) understanding, I know why I said it.
“Ah. That’s rough.” She thinks she’s commiserating and now I feel like crap. “Dan was Air Force, I know how it is. The moving, the separation, it takes a toll on you.”
“Mmhmm,” I agree because, I’m sure she’s right, I just wouldn’t exactly know from personal experience.
“Anyway, that was super nosy, sorry. But it’s why Dan sent me over…cuz I’m nosy.” She stands, smiling unapologetically, pulling orange gloves from her coat pockets. “But, if there’s anything you need, just give us a call.” She nods towards the slip of paper stuck to the fridge with their number on it.
“Yup, I will. And thank you so much for the bread, really.”
“You’re very welcome.”
She leaves and I eat all the bread.
Christmas Day, she’s back, and this time she’s brought Dan. Remember that time I went to Big Bear to get a change of scenery and be alone? Oh well, maybe she brought more bread. I answer the door, not embarrassed that it’s three o’clock in the afternoon and I’m in sweats and a t-shirt, my coziest cardigan keeping me warm. I haven’t washed my hair since I got here and somehow, that’s made it more manageable. Even so, I’ve got it braided and in a manageable state.
“Hi, we brought you cake. I know it’s probably more traditional to eat pie on Christmas, but I’m, like fuck that, I want chocolate cake,” Sasha says as soon as I open the door.
“Yessss, gimme, gimme,” I respond, wiggling my grabby fingers out in front of me. She hands me the giant slab of cake and I book it straight to the kitchen for a fork. Sasha follows me and settle
s onto a bar stool, while Dan shuts the door.
“I hope we’re not imposing,” Dan says, joining his wife. “We won’t stay long, just wanted to check everything was good here.”
“And bring you cake.”
I’d made it upstairs to sleep in the bed last night and I slept like a rock, didn’t wake until almost eleven o’clock.
“Everything’s great, thanks,” I manage to say around a mouthful of cake. “Ohmygod, this is so good.”
Dan watches with wonder in his eyes.
“What? Haven’t you ever heard the expression, eating for two?” I grumble.
He chuckles silently and looks away.
“You gonna hear from your man today?” Sasha asks and I freeze mid-chew.
“Ummm, no, probably not.” It’s true. There is probably a one percent chance that Dean will contact me today, so I’m not technically lying.
“Sasha said he’s a Marine,” Dan joins in.
“Mmhmm,” I finish chewing and swallow the giant bite of cake on a dry throat.
“Where’s he at?”
Well, crap, I was about to dig myself into a big ol’ liar hole of my own making.
“I’m not actually sure,” I tell them. “To be honest, we’re not exactly…together right now.” I can’t help but confess. You just don’t lie to people who bring you cake on Christmas.
“I knew it,” Sasha says, slapping Dan on the arm.
“Not sure that’s something to be excited about, Sash,” Dan tells her, eyeing me.
“It’s complicated,” I shrug. “So, how’d you two end up out here? Do you live here year round?”
“Really? It’s like that, huh? I bring you bread and cake and you’re gonna pull a change of subject just when things are getting good?” She shakes her head, “Whatever.”
I watch as Dan wraps his hand affectionately around Sasha’s neck and completely ignore the jealous twinge in my heart. Do not feel it one bit.
“Let her be, baby.”
“It was a one night stand, he was home on leave or whatever, and we got together, I got pregnant, then I had to tell him over Skype while he was overseas somewhere, and now he’s back, like, temporarily, I’m not really sure, but I’m not sure he actually likes me, I mean, he came over drunk last week and we did it again, but then he completely disappeared on me, and so I came up here on a whim to kinda clear my head.”
Well. Chocolate Cake Confessions, take one.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Sasha responds, rubbing her hands together, a twinkle in her eye
“I’m gonna…go somewhere else,” Dan says, rising from the stool and backing out the kitchen.
“I’ll be home soon, honey, I just gotta sort Holly here out, mmkay?”
I should maybe be embarrassed. I mean, that’s more than I’ve probably said to anyone on the subject, even Maya, at least all at once, anyway. But I’m not; I feel lighter after sharing the load with Sasha.
“I’ve got that kind of face, you see, that makes people want to share. I’ve also spent years perfecting the blank, non-judgmental look, watch.” She gives it to me and I have to admit, she’s good. “Alright, let’s start from the beginning. And move to the couch, bring your cake.”
So I spend the better part of the next hour with Sasha, hashing and rehashing my and Dean’s relationship from the beginning. She ooh’s and ahh’s and gasps at all the right parts and you know how sometimes, someone comes along in life at just the right time? That’s Sasha. I booked a last-minute rental in Big Bear, wanting to be alone, and ended up with Sasha and Dan. And cake. That’s so much better.
Chapter 16
Dean
“Well?” Dixon asks, stoking the fire.
“Well, what?”
“Man, I ain’t never seen you like this, and we’ve been through some shit.”
It’s true. Dixon and I served together for years before he nearly lost his life on one of our missions about five years ago.
“Well?” He repeats.
“It’s nothing, man, just shit in my head, you know how it is.”
Dixon had a rough time after months and months spent recovering in a hospital, but now? He’s married, got a little kid, and runs an outdoor excursion camp in Northern California, which is where I hooked up with him after leaving Holly’s that morning. We’re currently in the middle of the Sierra Nevada’s, where he led a group of veterans on a backpacking trip. In the snow. I’m not exactly a veteran, not yet, anyway, but when I explained to Dixon some of what was going on with me, he thought it would be a good group for me to join. We’ve been hiking for three days, staying low enough to where we could hike through the snow in just our boots, but high enough to feel like we’d gotten sufficiently far enough from civilization.
We’d set up camp about an hour ago, shoveling out a spot for tents, starting a fire, and bundling up. Now, I was sitting on a rock, staring at trees, trying to achieve the objective I’d come out here with: getting my head straight. When I leave here to go back home, I want to have a plan, I want to be able to talk to Holly about our situation, I want to figure out what it is I want. Jesus, I sound like a whiny fucker.
“Yeah, I know how it is because I worked it out and am looking at all that in my rearview, so believe me when I say, man, it’s gonna eat you alive until you deal with it.”
“Well, seeing as that’s why I’m here, Dixon, to deal with it, maybe you should let me be to do just that.”
“It’s a woman, isn’t it.”
I turn my head towards him slowly.
“I fucking knew it. Dean Slade is being taken down by a woman.”
“Fuck you.”
He just laughs.
“Well, tell Uncle Dixon all about it. What’s she do, where’d you meet?”
Fuck it.
“I met her at a bar, took her back to her place, and got her pregnant.”
That shuts him up.
“Seriously?”
“Yup. And she’s a librarian.”
“A what now?”
It’s my turn to chuckle because, out loud, it just didn’t sound real. “Yeah, man, she’s a librarian at the local high school. She’s good, cool, not asking me for anything.”
He takes a minute to absorb my words.
“Is that what’s bothering you, that she doesn’t need you?”
“What? No,” I assure him, but…shit. Does that bother me?
“Then what is it, you in love with her?”
“Dude, I barely know her.”
“Don’t call me dude, I’m not a fuckin’ dude.”
I throw a rock and think. But nothing makes sense in my head.
“I’m thinking of getting out,” I finally admit.
“Whoa. Man, aren’t you, like, just a few years away from full retirement?”
“Three, yeah, but…I don’t know…I can’t keep going the way I’m going.” And that’s the first time I’ve admitted that out loud.
“You sure you don’t wanna hang on just a few more years? That’s a big deal, man.”
This, I know. Retiring at twenty years has been my plan for a very long time, probably ever since I reenlisted after my first tour. Career military is the path I’ve been on for the better part of the last sixteen years and nothing has veered me from that path. Until Holly O’Brian, anyway.
“Man, I’m gonna have a kid,” I remind him.
“Yeah, so? Lots of enlisted guys have kids. And being a Raider isn’t your only option, you know. Man, with your experience, you’d have no problem finding something stateside to ride out your last few years.”
Staying on base was one of the things I’d been considering and exploring already.
“Yeah, I hear you. It’s just, every time I see my niece and nephew, they’re hardly recognizable; it seems like they age ten years with each visit. And they barely know me; it’s like starting over every time I’m home. And in a few years, if I wait to retire, I’ll have a three-year-old kid, I don’t think I want to be a stranger
to that kid.” Plus, I’m really fucking tired.
Well, damn, if that isn’t what’s at the crux of all this.
“I get that, you know. I can’t imagine missing out on the last two years of my son’s life.”
A son. I could be having a son. Or a daughter. With crazy red hair and green eyes.
“I think I need to go home.”
Dixon smiles big. “Gotta say, I’m enjoying this, seeing the sensitive side of Staff Sergeant Slade.”
Smug bastard.
“Don’t push me off, I got a kid to take care of.” He says, laughing, while backing away from the edge of the mountain.
“Asshole,” I mutter, standing up to go back by the fire.
Chapter 17
Holly
Sasha sent me home with a pie. She said, after thinking on it, traditions should be honored, so she made me an apple pie.
“It seemed like the kind of pie people eat on Christmas,” she says. We exchange phone numbers and emails and hug tight (Sasha, not Dan, he wasn’t much of a hugger) before I make my way slowly down the mountain.
“No faster than fifteen, you hear?” Dan orders right before I got in the car. “Take it especially easy on those curves; you good with the drive?”
I assure him that I’m good and begin my descent back into the city.
I pull into my driveway in the dark, unload the essentials, and leave the rest for the morning. I’m dead tired and just want to be inside in my pajamas. Mr. Bubberchop nearly takes me out when I come in the back door, he’s so happy to see me.
“Hi, kitty boy,” I greet him, dropping my stuff on the kitchen floor to scoop him up. “Did you miss me?” I snuggle my face into his fur while he purrs and butts his head against my chin. I’d paid Estrella twenty dollars to come and feed him and scoop his poop while I was gone.
“Let me put some food away, Bubber, and then you and I can snuggle on the couch,” I tell him. The light on my answering machine is blinking, but I figure it’s nothing that can’t wait until morning.
I spend the next day unpacking, doing laundry, checking emails, and finishing up another book project (hello, fancy stroller, come to mama), then wake bright and early Friday morning, ready for my ultrasound.
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