“What’s this?” she asked as I laid the locket in her hand.
“I know you aren’t much for PDA, and I know that I am working on a lot of things in my life right now, but I wanted to tell you that you are beautiful. I have been so used to being oppressed, and not allowed to speak my mind since meeting my soon-to-be-ex-husband. But since I met you, I have become stronger, and bolder, and I want to start following my heart instead of being told what is right for me. And my heart wants you. Sarah, will you be my girlfriend?”
Her tears started flowing again as she threw her arms around me, clasping the locket in her hand, and I held her there for a while until her sobbing stopped. I took the locket from her hand, putting it on her, and hugging her again.
“Oh, no! I didn’t end up making any dinner,” she said, stepping back and wiping her tears on her sleeve.
“I was here for you, not the food,” I smiled, “How about I order some pizza?”
She squealed, “I’d love that! But I need to make something. It’s Christmas Eve.” Sarah ran to her fridge and swung open the door, her eyes darting around, looking for something to make.
I took off my jacket and hung it by the door, then pulled out my phone to look up the number for the pizza place. “What type of pizza would you like?”
“Cookies!” she yelled happily.
“What?”
“I’ll make cookies tonight. I still have a roll sugar cookie dough.”
“Oh,” I laughed, probably harder than I should have.
“What? You don’t like sugar cookies?” she asked coming back to stand in front of me, dough in hand.
“Of course I do,” I smiled waving my phone at her, “But I had asked what kind of pizza you wanted.”
She looked at the phone and then back to me, giggling, “Oh! That’s funny. No, not a cookie pizza. Actually, I like meat lovers, with extra bacon.”
“Sounds perfect to me.”
Sarah threw a dozen cookies in the oven, and they were finished just as the delivery man showed up with our large pizza. I tipped him a bit extra because of the snow and the fact that he wasn’t wearing a heavy enough jacket for the weather. Plus, it was Christmas Eve.
Sarah turned on the game console and put in a DVD that turned the TV screen into a looped video of a crackling fire. Even though the fire was digital, it added a sense of warmth to the room. We were both curled up on the couch, and neither of us really touched our pizza. Instead, we delved into deeper questions about each other, sort of like a session of the Twenty Questions game.
I found myself asking more and more questions as we went along, because, although I had been so drawn to her, I realized that I knew very little about her. And as our questions game went on, I was happy to find that I liked her even more with every answer.
Sarah was 27, she loved cats, and was an only child. She liked modern art, cake decorating, and used to have a stamp collection until she lost it during her last move. She had never really dated any other women before me, but had known she liked girls since she was 14.
She had an almost, sorta, kinda girlfriend in high school. They were both cheerleaders, and they would often kiss behind the bleachers late nights after the games. But when Sarah tried to go public about their relationship, the other girl laughed in her face and told everyone she was crazy, and that she was just obsessed with her. After that, and after she had heard her father rant about “fags” when a news article came out advertising a local Pride parade, she decided to focus on work and school instead.
But then, she said, when I came to town, she could tell I had been through pains of my own, and that just maybe, I could help her heal past hers. She said that she could see that I was strong, and she had felt drawn to me because of it. I took her hand and placed it in my lap, wrapping it up in both of my hands.
I didn’t feel strong. I still had no idea where I was going to work or live, and the idea of filing those divorce papers gave me a stomach ache. I was terrified. But, I could tell by the look in her eyes that she meant what she said. And I thought, at least in those few moments, that maybe I could be strong.
When it was my turn, I told her how much I loved classic novels and cozy mysteries, and that I listened to rap, but on rainy days I liked to listen to smooth jazz. I told her about growing up in Maple Creek, and about California, and about Hector. I skipped the part about my parent’s death, because I wanted to keep the mood up.
After our conversations, there was one thing that we definitely agreed on: the sugar cookies tasted best when kissed off each other’s lips.
Chapter 23
“So what’s in the bag?” she asked, bringing it into the living room after putting our dishes in the kitchen.
“Oh! I completely forgot about it. That’s just another little gift I got you.”
“Another gift? Can I open it?”
“Yes, of course.”
Her dainty fingers rustled through the tissue paper, carefully unwrapping the ball of soap. She held it to the light.
“It’s a bath bomb,” I explained, “It made me think of you.”
“Mistletoe kiss?” she asked. “It’s perfect! Would you like to try it with me?”
“With you?” I asked, my hands getting sweaty at the thought.
“Mhm,” she smiled, “But, before we do that, I need to give you your gift.”
Sarah pulled a thin green folder out of her black duffle art bag by the front door and thumbed through the papers inside. She then pulled a single sheet from the back of the folder and handed it to me. The page looked like some sort of flier. It read:
Valentine’s Art Show
Debut Artists:
Lin Zhu
Nicholas Lowery
Emily Heart
“Debut artist?” I smiled, “What is this for?”
“A few times a year I coordinate a gallery exhibition at the library downtown. It’s nothing too fancy, but it’s a lot of fun. People in the town enter for a chance to get their art hung up there, but I get to choose a few spotlight artists if my students show particular talent. I chose you to have a spot for your work at the upcoming show,” she explained, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.
“I’ve never been in a real art show before. This is so exciting! Thank you so much,” I said, hugging her and looking back over the paper.
“Now,” she said, holding up the bath bomb, “How about a nice hot bath?”
My stomach fluttered and I bit my lip, “Um, yeah. Sure. I’ve never tried a bath bomb before. Sounds fun.”
“Come on,” she squealed, taking my hand and pulling me from the couch.
We dashed up the stairs, giggling like schoolgirls as we reached the bathroom. It was decorated simply, like the rest of her house. There was a silver soap dispenser on the sink beside a fake plant in a clear vase. There were some white towels folded on a rack over the toilet, and the shower only contained a bar of soap, a bottle of two-in-one hair wash, and a pink razor. The shower curtain that she pushed aside was a plain light blue cloth.
Sarah turned on the water and put the plug in the tub, then placed the bath bomb on the sink, and started to undress. Her black hoodie brushed up her body and off her shoulders, and she dropped it to the floor beside her. Then, she hooked her thumbs into the elastic band on her sweatpants, and they slipped gracefully down her hips and joined her hoodie on the floor.
Her skin was like soft ivory against the black lace of her panties and matching bra. The lace trim perfectly framed her lovely lush breasts, and firm cheeks. Her stomach was soft. It wasn’t flat, but her curves were smooth like the strokes of a paintbrush.
She leaned over, running her hand under the faucet, and I couldn’t help my eyes from wandering some more, up and down her legs and her back. She was like a work of art. And, to my surprise, I became immediately aroused, my own panties becoming increasingly wet and warm. My thighs began to tingle. “Oh, sorry,” she said, bumping into me as she stepped back, “I just got so excited, and here I am,
throwing my clothes off like a whore.” A blush flushed over her face and chest.
“Don’t be sorry,” I assured her, “I’m excited, too.”
I reached down to pull up my turtleneck, but my hands froze. I was suddenly very self-conscious. I didn’t have the curves that Sarah had. I was flat-chested and kind of boney, with a bit of a tummy on me. And I wasn’t as neat with my bikini line as she was. I was mentally beating myself up over not taking more delicate time to prepare for our date.
“May I help?” Sarah asked, reaching down and unbuttoning my slacks.
I smiled awkwardly, and my heart was beating itself against my chest so forcefully that I was afraid she might hear it. But I continued with the motion I had started. With shaking hands, I lifted my shirt over my head, dropping it to the ground beside me to join her clothes. And my pants followed.
My bra and panties were both cotton, and not matching in color, or pattern. I gazed down at the floor, too afraid to meet eyes with Sarah and see her reaction. Suddenly, her fingers were under my chin, and she lifted my head, and planted a soft kiss on my lips.
“Beautiful,” she whispered.
Sarah then reached over to turn off the water and unwrapped the plastic from the bath bomb, “Ready?”
“Ready,” I said, feeling more relaxed.
She leaned over and dropped the bath bomb into the water, and it immediately began to fizz and fill the tub with a bright green foamy color and little bits of red glitter. The bathroom was filled with the scent of cranberries and sugar.
“Wow, so cool!” Sarah laughed.
Then, she turned back to me with a more serious expression. I took a deep breath. I knew what came next: I had to get completely naked. Sarah took my hands and placed them behind her, on her bra clasp.
“Are you sure you are okay with this?” she asked looking deep into my eyes.
I was nervous, but I definitely wanted to continue, “Yes.”
My fingers fumbled with the clasp until it popped open, and she slid the straps down her shoulders. Her breasts were perfect and round. I wanted to touch them. I ran my fingertips across her back and up over the side of her breasts. As I did, she reached behind me, and undid my bra as well, caressing my nipples gently with her thumbs.
We both dropped our panties, and she stepped into the bathtub, offering me her hand to help me in. The water was actually really hot, but the foamy bubbles felt amazing on my skin. We sat facing each other, caressing one another’s legs and arms, and exploring one another with our fingertips in the sloshing silence of her bathroom.
The touching led to more sweetly soft kisses, and the kisses eventually led to me cuddling in her lap with my back against her bare chest. Her legs were on either side of me, and I laid my head back against her shoulder. The water was at the edge of the tub, and I kept especially still to keep it from spilling over.
Her hands were wrapped around me, and I felt so calm, and so secure, that I thought I might fall asleep right there in the tub with her.
“So,” Sarah finally spoke, “I know this is really early to be asking this, so feel free to say no, but tomorrow my parents are coming over to visit me for Christmas. I know you are busy at the B&B, but do you think you could stop by tomorrow? I’d like for you to meet them.”
I thought back to the last girl she tried to be more public with, and the way she had been humiliated. I didn’t want to do that to her, too. And I was trying to take my relationship with her more seriously. I’m getting a divorce, and soon I won’t be married…I reminded myself.
“Yes, I’d love to meet your parents,” I nodded, sloshing the water out of the tub as I turned to look at her.
“Thank you,” she said kissing my sweetly, “I’m so excited for Christmas, now.”
After our bath, we both dressed, ate some more pizza because we were actually hungry then, and I went back to the B&B. I could barely sleep that night. For the first time since I was little, I, too, was excited for Christmas Day.
Chapter 24
Christmas morning at the B&B was bright and festive. The breakfast table was filled by the new guests, so John and I took some food to the living room to munch on. One of the visiting families, a mother, a father, and twin teenage boys, were all dressed up in their Sunday best to include suits and ties, and the mother wore a red holiday dress. The other guests, an elderly couple and their special needs daughter, were happily dressed in comedic ugly sweaters of bright green with real light-up lights woven into them.
Aside from a few pleasantries, the guests each kept to their own group over breakfast. Once they had all left to go see their families in town, Margaret and I cleaned up, which went a lot faster than I had expected, even with the mountains of dishes. Perhaps it was my festive cheer that made the chores go faster. After everything was back in order again, Margaret, John, and I convened to the living room for presents.
For John and Margaret, I had made them each hand-painted Christmas cards earlier in the month: a gingerbread man for Margaret, and a snowman for John. Each of the cards had a hand-written message in it, thanking them for their hospitality.
John gave Margaret a new cooking apron that was decorated with daisies, which made me smile at the thought that he probably got her the sunflower one she was always wearing. For me, John had bought a warm red hat with a gigantic puffy fluff ball on top that was nearly the size of a grapefruit. It made me laugh.
Margaret gave John some paperwork that said she had paid to upgrade his phone plan to allow international calls, so that he could call Kiuchi more often. It brought a tear to John’s eye, and he hugged her tightly. Then, Margaret handed me a packet of paper with a red bow stuck to the top corner. It read ‘Job Application.’
“I’m getting older, you know,” she said, leaning forward and whispering like she was telling me a secret, “You have been such a wonderful help to me and John. I’d like for you to keep on working here. You will be an official employee with a real salary.”
“Oh my goodness! Thank you so much. I’d love to work here,” I exclaimed, throwing my arms around them both.
“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Margaret said with a small sigh.
Soon after presents, Margaret started the fire in the living room fireplace and sat down with her knitting. John sat in the dining room and started texting, who I assumed was Kiuchi, based on his blushing and smiling.
I went upstairs and got cleaned up into some slacks and a cream sweater. I put on a dash of makeup, then bundled up to head over to Sarah’s house for Christmas afternoon. I was both terrified and excited to meet her parents.
When I arrived, there was a shiny black truck parked out on the street in front of her house. Sarah opened the door for me, excitedly, within moments of me knocking on her door. Her usually quiet haven wasn’t quiet anymore, though. There were pops and crackles coming from the kitchen, and a low rumbling voice coming from the living room.
“Is that Emily?” shouted her father from the couch.
“Yes, daddy,” she answered, helping me with my coat.
“Oh! Emily, how mice to meet you,” Sarah’s mother shouted from the kitchen.
Everyone seemed much happier than I had expected. There wasn’t any twinge of sarcasm in their voices at all. At least, not that I could tell.
“Everything going okay?” I whispered to Sarah.
“Yeah, of course,” she said with a smile. But it wasn’t an intimate smile like the night before. She looked at me the same way she did when I took her lunch to her at the school a few weeks before. I could feel my heart sink. I had a feeling there was something she wasn’t telling me.
I hung up my coat and new hat by the door, and Sarah took me into the kitchen where her mom was cooking some sort of stir-fried vegetable dish. Her mother looked kind of like a librarian. She had thick glasses that covered almost all of her face, and her gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She was wearing a dark green cardigan over a white turtleneck and black slacks, and the way she wore the
outfit really outlined her pear-shaped figure.
“I’m so glad you were able to join us for Christmas, Emily,” she said without looking up from the food she was cooking.
“Thank you, I’m glad to be here with Sarah,” I said, a little hesitantly.
“Do you need any help, mom?” Sarah asked, dipping her finger into a plastic bowl with what looked like some sort of cake batter in it, and licking it off of her fingers.
“Yeah,” her mother said, “I need you to get out of the kitchen and stop sticking your fingers in the food.”
Sarah giggled, and walked out of the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow her into the living room.
“Hey, whatcha doing?” Sarah asked her father, taking a seat beside him on the couch.
“Just staring at this dumb fire,” he grumbled, pointing to her TV, “I can’t believe you don’t have cable.”
“I have some video games if you wanted to try that,” she said, starting to get up from her seat.
“What am I? 12?” he huffed.
Her father looked older than I had imagined he would. His hair was thinning, but he still appeared to trim it into an almost military-style haircut. He wore a green plaid shirt and a pair of jeans, and his face was frozen in a grimace.
“Sorry,” he said, softening a bit and turning to me, “I’m just really hungry. I hate waiting for food. It’s nice to meet you, Emily. I’m glad Sarah finally has a friend.”
“A friend?” I asked, and I looked to Sarah.
Sarah’s eyes were pleading, and my eyes darted down the chain around her neck. She was wearing a green v-neck sweater that allowed the pendant to rest perfectly on her chest. Except, it wasn’t her locket that was on the end of the chain. Instead, it was a silver crucifix. My chest felt tight all of a sudden.
“I see,” I continued, “Well, I’m glad I could stop by, but unfortunately I can’t stay. It was nice to meet you.”
I walked straight to the front door and grabbed my coat and hat off of the hook, throwing them on as I walked out the door. As I closed the door, Sarah caught it and stepped outside with me and closed the door behind us. She was barefoot, and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm.
Maple Creek Page 9