The Alien Reindeer’s Bounty (A Winter Starr Book 6)

by Nancey Cummings

  “It’s chilly in here.” Patricia shivered and rubbed her arms.

  “This room is always drafty,” Odessa said. That was part of the charm of living in an older home. “I think I’m well enough to come down and eat with everyone.”

  “I should have come over earlier to help. I’m sorry about that. Hosting your first Thanksgiving is a lot.”

  “It’s not that—” Odessa struggled to find the words.

  Patricia gave her a pat on the leg. “He’s a nice boy.”

  “Please, no,” she groaned.

  “What? He is. You used to be so close and he’s very good looking.”

  “Not interested.” She tore a dinner roll in half and chewed. Patricia was right; the rolls were dry.

  “I know it’s heavy-handed, but your father and I want you to be happy.”

  “Can we really not do the you-should-be-dating talk? If I wanted to date, I’ll do it myself.” Single moms didn’t have a ton of free time, but she could find the time if the right person caught her eye. She had a few offers but had always declined. Besides, she had more to consider than herself. If she dated, they’d eventually have to meet Ruby. If the relationship didn’t work out, more than just her heart was on the line. So far no one seemed worth the effort or the risk.

  Patricia folded her hands elegantly in her lap. “If you’re feeling guilty about Jamie, you shouldn’t.”

  Oh boy. Patricia was determined to have a heart-to-heart.

  “I’m not—”

  “I know we don’t really talk about it, but who knows if you and Jamie would have made a go of it and had a dozen babies by now.”

  “Mom—”

  “He was a nice boy and the Beckers are good grandparents to Ruby, but you can’t live in the past. Or the might-have-been,” she said with sincerity. “Marianne agrees with me. We want to see you happy. You don’t have to worry about hurting them if you move on.”

  First, gross that her parents and baby daddy-in-laws sat around and talked about her love life. Second, did they really think she hid away because she didn’t want to hurt Jamie’s parents? The Beckers were good grandparents and had embraced a pregnant Odessa without demanding a paternity test. Ruby got all her looks from the Becker side of the family, but no one knew that until the little goblin arrived. They helped Odessa during her last semester of school, drove her to medical appointments, and made sure she had the supplies the baby would need. When the baby arrived, they changed diapers like champs.

  “I’m not hung up on Jamie,” Odessa said. “I don’t date because I’m busy.” And tired. She poured all her energy into keeping her goblin fed and clean, even if the cleanliness was a struggle at times. If Odessa had any energy at the end of the night, she’d rather clean the house than give herself a pedicure. Her vanity and physical appearance were at the bottom of a long list of chores.

  “If you want a night out, I’m more than happy to watch Ruby,” Patricia said.

  A night out would be a treat, but Odessa suspected that offer came with conditions. “I’m not dating Mads,” she said.

  “Why not? He’s back in town and interested. You’re young and beautiful. You run the family business now.”

  “Mom—”

  “You used to be so close. I don’t understand why you had a falling out,” Patricia said.

  Odessa slumped against her mother, resting her head on Patricia’s shoulder. “He went back to Norway and didn’t tell me. He just left. No text. No email. Nothing. Totally ghosted me.” Odessa always thought interpretive dance was a load of baloney, but she felt that words were inadequate to express how much his leaving without saying goodbye hurt. Falling to the ground like a broken puppet and beating her fists against the floor might convey all the emotions swirling in her.

  She hated this, feeling like she was eighteen with a freshly broken heart. The pain hadn’t healed, it’d just been buried, and Mads’ return dug up the entire mess. She might be able to move on if he explained why but until then, her anger and sorrow remained.

  “Well, Norway is very far away,” Patricia said cautiously.

  “They have the internet in Norway. It’s Europe, not another planet. He ditched me and hasn’t even bothered to say he’s sorry. I don’t see why I have to act excited that he’s back and piss all over myself like a puppy.”

  Patricia swallowed a laugh. “You kiss my granddaughter with that mouth?”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t make jokes when I’m pouring out my heart.”

  The older woman sighed and patted Odessa on the thigh. “You’re right and I’m sorry for meddling. Your father and I want you to be happy and Ruby’s been asking for a little brother or sister.”

  “Ruby also wants a pony, but that’s not happening either,” Odessa said curtly. Everyone had an opinion on how she lived her life and it was exhausting.

  “Pie? I feel like pie. I think we have a dozen or so.”

  “Heck yeah.” Burying her complex emotions in sugar and carbs sounded like such a good idea. Only—

  “He already left,” Patricia said, anticipating Odessa’s concern.

  “I hope he took a pie with him.”

  Chapter 9

  Odessa

  The sound of a snow shovel scraping against pavement woke her. Had to be her father but why he used a shovel instead of the snowblower, she had no idea.

  For a moment, irritation at her father coming over just to shovel her driveway rose in her throat like bile, but she forced it back down. Gerald wasn’t one for hugs or words of affection. He showed his love by doing. Her father loved her enough to get up early, dig his own car out, drive over, and then dig her out.

  Even though he knew she had a snowblower.

  That man.

  A warm smile stretched across her sleepy face.

  The storm must have finally passed, meaning her headache was finally gone. Hooray. The novelty of waking without a pounding in her head lifted her mood enough that she’d overlook her parents’ smothering. They loved her and would bury her under their love until they squeezed every gasping bit of love from her body. It was the Muller way. Patricia showed her love by micromanaging, Gerald always had something to fix or a project going, and Odessa expressed her love with food.

  Poor Ruby. That kid was going to need a therapist.

  Odessa rolled over and checked the time. Still early. She had to open the market at 8:30 and the Beckers would pick up Ruby at eight and keep her entertained for the day. Last year, Marianne took Ruby out shopping and the little goblin loved it.

  Pulling herself from the cuddly warmth of her bed, she dressed in layers and stumbled into the kitchen. By the time the coffee brewed, she was mostly awake. She carried two mugs to the cold garage, walked past the untouched snowblower, and opened the garage door.

  The man who had already cleared most of her driveway was not her father.

  “I have a snowblower, you know, but I’m not turning down free shoveling,” she said.

  Mads leaned against the shovel, hat, and coat discarded to the side. He gave her a long, heated look, like she was the greatest thing he ever saw and had not just rolled out of bed and put on yesterday’s clothes.

  Odessa handed him a mug, steam curling thick in the air. A strong gust of wind pierced right through her layers and scattered a dusting of snow back across the freshly cleared pavement.

  “Thanks.” He took a sip. She knew heavy cream and sugar wasn’t how he took his coffee, if his tastes hadn’t changed, but he made no complaint.

  “Do you ever wear a coat?”

  “Not if I can help it,” he said.

  She shuffled back into the garage, if only to get out of the wind. Mads followed.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said.

  “Go on, then.”

  “I thought you were aware of yesterday’s invitation. Gerald walked right up to my door and invited me, so I assumed it was intentional.”

  Intentional, probably, on her father’s part. Odessa took a sip of he
r coffee, letting the caffeine and sugar wake her up. “Wait, he knocked on your door? Dad said he was walking the dog.”

  “I’m renting the place behind you.” Mads pointed to the back of the house. A line of trees and a road separated her house from the lakefront cabin so often occupied by tourists.

  “So, we’re neighbors again.” Was that stalking? Was it weird that he moved in next door? Alarm bells should be ringing but instead, she had a warm, pleased feeling.

  “Is that okay? My uncle arranged it for me. I had no idea about,” he gestured broadly, “you.”

  “I could have reacted… better, so I should apologize for having a tantrum and putting you on the spot.” She rubbed the back of her neck, ashamed of her behavior.

  “Do not trouble yourself.” He watched her with a careful, guarded expression. Odessa waited, regarding him over the rim of her mug. At length, he said, “I owe you another apology for leaving you behind.”

  “I emailed you.” Faithfully once a week, even after it became obvious he’d never respond. She kept that up for longer than she wanted to admit.

  He ran his hand up the back of his head, making his hair stand on end. “I will be blunt.”

  Odessa steeled herself, expecting to hear how her youthful affection flattered him but he did not feel the same way or how he met someone and needed to make a clean break.

  “My father beat me.”

  Not expecting that.

  “What? Are you serious?” Memories of Mads’ evasive behavior about his father and the way he always hung around her house like a lost puppy resurfaced. He hated being in his house and spent every moment he could outside.

  Had Mads been too thin as a kid? Bruised? She couldn’t remember anything other than the scrapes and bumps they earned together.

  “I’m sorry, of course you’re serious, but why didn’t you tell me? You never said anything,” she said.

  “He hated this plan… place. My uncle’s work brought us here, but he hated every day. At first, it wasn’t so bad, but he drank.”

  “I remember.” Pieces fell into place. The raised voices that carried over the fence. Arne Sommerfeldt always scowling and smelling sour, like old beer. Mads had always hung out at her house. They played on her Nintendo. They had sleepovers at her house, watching movies in the living room until they crashed. “He hit you when we were little?”

  Mads shook his head. “No. At first it was just shouting and never being able to please him. He didn’t like my friendship with you but tolerated it early on. As we got older, he didn’t want us spending time together. He worried about mixing blood,” he said with obvious distaste.

  “He didn’t like me?” Mads’ father had never been nice to her, but he hadn’t been rude or cruel, either. Apparently, he saved all that for Mads, behind closed doors.

  “You were not from… where we are from, so no. He didn’t like you or anyone. He thought everyone here was primitive and uncivilized.”

  She knew her hometown was rustic but damn, they had running water, electricity and the internet—all the hallmarks of modern life. She lived in a small town in the country, not the 1800s.

  “I had no idea,” she whispered, horrified at what her friend experienced and the secret pain he lived with. Why didn’t he tell her? Why didn’t she notice?

  “That last night, when he found out I kissed you, he hit me.” Mads rubbed his jaw, as if remembering an old hurt.

  Odessa wanted to condemn Arne’s overreaction to a simple kiss but did not want to interrupt Mads.

  “He took away my means of communication. I tried. I wanted nothing more than to hear your voice again, but I was far from home.” He spoke in a hurried manner, gaining vigor as he finally unburdened himself of his father’s poison. “I barely spoke the language. By the time I finally got away from him, I had to complete my military service. I came back home as soon as I could.” He squeezed her hand, wanting more contact but fearing rejection.

  Shit. She hadn’t been nice to him. At all. He lived through that horror and when they were finally reunited, she’d been a brat about it.

  Odessa rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Mads. Coffee sloshed in mugs. Tears blurred her vision. She ignored her doubt and unanswered questions, like how he couldn’t email once in twelve years. All that could wait. He shared his vulnerability with her, and she refused to treat such a gift so poorly. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know. I should have known.”

  “I didn’t want you to know,” he murmured in her hair.

  “So stubborn.”

  His arms tightened around her and her heart felt lighter than it had in years. This was right. This was where she belonged.

  The door to the house banged open. “Mommy, I can’t find my yellow sundress. I want to wear my yellow sundress. Why are you hugging that man? Are you still mad at him? Are you dating?” Ruby made kissy noises. “Can I have pumpkin pie for breakfast?”

  Odessa pulled away. “Go inside, goblin. I’ll be there in a minute.” She wiped at her eyes. “I have to go. Work. Kid. Et cetera. Thanks for the apology and the shoveling.”

  A smile stretched across his face, softening the sharp features. A bit of coffee glistened on his bottom lip.

  She wanted to lean in and brush her thumb against his lips. Better yet, lick up the coffee.

  “We have all this pie. Why don’t you come by tonight and help us out? Not like a date but pie and coffee. Not a date.” She held her breath, waiting for his response. Asking someone out was nerve-wracking and Mads had done it twice.

  “I like both those things. Count on me,” he said.

  She really hoped she could. It was just pie and coffee. Ruby staying the night with her grandparents took some of the pressure off, so the evening could be two old friends reconnecting over pie and coffee.

  “I should go and make sure Ruby eats something besides pumpkin pie for breakfast,” Odessa said, slipping back inside.

  The woman from the coffee shop, the one Jayson grabbed, stopped next to Odessa. “Hey, you know that guy, right?” she asked.

  Odessa paused from her task of sorting out the bad apples from the display. “Jayson? Unfortunately.”

  The woman wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Ugh, no. I mean the other one. The hot one.”

  “Mads?”

  “Yeah. Do you know him? Is he single? I saw him give you his number, so maybe he isn’t, unless you’re seeing him now, then I’m sorry. I’ll back off, but is he… single?” The woman bounced on her toes, waiting for answers.

  Odessa wiped her hands on her jeans and stuck out her hand. “Odessa. You are?”

  “Oh, Alyse.” She shook Odessa’s hand with enthusiasm. “So, are you dating him?”

  “No.”

  “Do you mind if I ask him out?”

  “I honestly do not care what Mads does while he’s in town.” She lied. She cared. A little. She felt possessive of him, even though she had no right.

  “Is he in town for long?”

  “I don’t know,” Odessa said.

  “Is he single? Divorced? Kids? Does he drink? Smoke? Drugs? Mommy issues?” Alyse went through the questions rapid-fire, like she was reading off a list. Then, “Daddy issues?”

  “Look, I don’t know. We were friends when we were kids, but I haven’t spoken to him in a decade, so I really don’t know. Sorry.”

  Alyse frowned. “He’s just so amazing and good-looking. If he’s single, what’s wrong with him?”

  “Probably the same stuff as anyone else.” Odessa didn’t like the backhanded implication that there was something wrong with her because she was single.

  Calm down. The lady was talking about Mads. Stop being so self-centered. Besides, her own single status had everything to do with being too busy to date. No other reason.

  And that reason wasn’t that she was hung up on a six-foot-plus Norwegian with honey-brown eyes and a smile that made her feel like the most important person in the universe, because it would be sad to have put
her love life on hold for an old crush. Sad and pathetic.

  “Huh. Okay,” Alyse said. “Does he like food? Should I bake him some cookies? Or a pie. No, everyone is making pie. I need something to stand out.”

  Odessa resumed sorting the apples. Customers picked through the display and knocked apples to the floor all the time, bruising them. No one bought bruised apples unless they were bundled together at a discount price. They might not be pretty, but the apples still tasted sweet and cooked just fine in a pie.

  “Or a tart. I can make an apple tart.” Alyse grabbed an apple. “Does he like apples?”

  “I really don’t know.” The Mads she used to know had been a bottomless pit of hunger. He ate, constantly, and hadn’t been too picky about what. Sharing that information with Alyse, however, seemed too close to encouraging a conversation, and Odessa wanted the woman gone.

  “Does he prefer pumpkin or sweet potato pie?”

  “Is there a point to this, or are we planning the menu for your soiree?”

  Alyse blushed and looked down at the ground. “He just seemed nice, like someone worth knowing.”

  Odessa thought back to the early days of their friendship, when Mads only spoke a few words of English. They watched so much TV—too much, really—partly because the winter kept them cooped up and partly for Mads to learn the language. He insisted on holding her hand all the time, even when they were just sitting on the living room floor in front of the television.

  They had been inseparable. He climbed through her bedroom window after their parents went to sleep and they giggled and whispered stories until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Her favorites were grisly ghost stories and Mads had wild stories about men who changed into animals, like reindeer, that she had never heard before. They were probably Norwegian folktales or Laplander—or was it Sami?—but she could never find the stories again in any books.

  How bad had living with Arne Sommerfeldt been? How did she never notice that her best friend never wanted to go home? Mads said his father had only been physically violent after they moved away, but abuse took many forms. Verbal and emotional abuse hurt just as much as a punch. Worse, perhaps, because there was no bruise and it left the kid wondering why they felt so bad when “words will never hurt me.”