Christmas Medley, page 7
“Yes, she is, and she’s really good with children.”
“They all are,” said the widow, handing out stalks of alfalfa hay to several waiting children.
They crowded against the fence, holding out their hands, squealing and giggling as the gathering reindeers’ noses and tongues slathered against their open palms to get at the treats.
A year-old and barely weighing fifty pounds, Baby was still the runt of the herd. She was covered in fur from her nose to her hooves. Her winter coat had grown out, turning a light shade of brown with white tufts of undercoat peeking through. For now, her head between her ears was smooth. If she did grow antlers, they would begin as tiny hairy buds in her second year. Even if Baby never grew her antlers in, she was still the cutest thing Sam had ever seen.
Mrs. Jensen pulled a napkin from her coat pocket and unwrapped it. She nudged Sam, handing her a biscuit. She recognized it as one of the special batches of low-starch high-fiber biscuits the widow baked in her kitchen as special treats for the reindeer.
Sam knelt down, extending her hand so it was palm up inside the fence. Baby turned her way, nose sniffing high in the air as she no doubt caught the scent. She pranced to the fence, stomping her hooves and nuzzling Sam’s hand until she relinquished the treat.
The reindeer petting and feeding had been the culmination of the evening. Jensen’s Christmas Farm officially closed their gates at six p.m. on Christmas Eve to allow the volunteers time to spend with their families, the visiting children to get home and nestled in their beds, and for the reindeer to prepare for that evening’s flight. At least that’s what Ransom announced over the P.A. system as she bid everyone have a safe night and invited them to all come back again next year.
The resurrection of the reindeer farm had been Nic’s doing. No, not just a return from the dead, thought Sam. Thanks to Nic, the farm, the widow Jensen, and even the sleepy little town were thriving with new life and new purpose. It was the town locals who volunteered to put on the tree lighting, cookie-decorating classes, and other shows throughout the month of December. Others, like Ransom, volunteered on weekends and in their spare time to do odd chores and tend the reindeer. As a result, their little town had been officially put on the map as a historic mining town and must-see tourist attraction on the way to the reindeer farm.
“I expect you back here for Christmas dinner tomorrow,” said Imogene through the driver’s open window.
“You’ve already given me enough food for a week.” Sam’s gaze wandered to the bag of groceries on the seat beside her.
“Most of that’s for the puppy. Believe me, if she’s anything like her father, she’ll eat you out of house and home.”
Sam smiled at the little blonde ball of fur curled up between her side and the bag of groceries. Her fingers ruffled her fur as the puppy busily gnawed at a piece of rawhide she had clutched between her two front paws.
“Really, you shouldn’t have.” Even to her ears, Sam could tell her protest sounded half-hearted, at best.
“Nonsense. How’s it look, a vet not having any critters of her own? Given a choice, I wouldn’t allow you to care for my animals.”
Sam outright laughed at the widow’s words. It was no secret that she spent at least three days and nights out at the widow’s farm. Most of the locals still called her Doc Sam, but during the holiday season, she also found herself being called the reindeer doctor.
“Besides, she’s got Tiny’s genes. She’ll make you a good guard dog. She’ll be good for car rides and house visits. Train her early and she’ll follow you everywhere. Keep you from getting…”
Lonely. The unspoken word hung in the air between them. It was like a punch to Sam’s stomach, reminding her of her loss. Looking into the widow’s eyes, she knew Imogene still felt a similar loss for Mr. Jensen. Sam’s wounds, if not deeper, were still fresher.
“I’ll be back for Christmas dinner,” she said.
Sam balanced the paper grocery sack in one hand and the squirming puppy in the other as she opened her front door. She placed the puppy upon the floor and, one-armed, shucked off her coat, hanging it on the rack beside the door. Her boots quickly followed, leaving her in jeans and heavy thermal socks. The puppy immediately went for the boots, tiny teeth gnawing at leather and shoelaces.
Sam left the red scarf wrapped about her neck. It was the one thing of Nic’s she still had to prove that she’d been real. She wore it constantly and she wasn’t certain if it still carried Nic’s scent or only what Sam imagined Nic had smelled like. She brought the end of the scarf to her nose and sniffed. She smelled pinecones and cinnamon and something else. It was that something else that made Sam believe Nic’s scent still lingered. It smelled like baking cookies and Christmas.
Sam unpacked the groceries, folding and putting the paper bag away in the cabinet. She padded into the living room and paused in front of the fireplace. She bent low, stoking the burning embers back to life, and added another log before replacing the fireplace screen. She lit candles above the mantle and opened a brightly colored bag, placing a handful of store bought cookies on a plate.
She turned and looked at the small tree in the corner. It was artificial and she’d thought long and hard about putting one up this year. After all, she was hardly home and there was that larger than life tree at the Jensen farm. But, in the end, she couldn’t resist. She’d decorated it with tinsel, garland, lights, and balls.
She plugged in the extension cord and stepped back, absently picking up a cookie and biting into it as she admired the lights. She frowned, running her tongue over her teeth as she held the cookie away from her and eyed it suspiciously.
Doesn’t taste right. She wondered if she hadn’t picked up sugar free by mistake. Problem was, no matter what brand she tried, none of them tasted the way they used to. She returned the cookie to the plate and brushed her fingers against her slacks.
She bent down and picked up the puppy, holding her as she grabbed a blanket from the back of the recliner and sat down, draping it over her legs. The puppy curled against her, snuggling down against her camel-colored sweater. Last year, it had been snug on her. Now it hung looser. She wrapped the puppy in the excess material, fingers absentmindedly stroking through soft fur as she watched the twinkling lights through heavy-lidded eyes.
†
The sound of jingling bells pulled Sam from slumber. She absently reached for her cell, sliding her thumb across the screen. The ringing persisted. Bleary eyes open, she frowned as she stared down at the black screen.
Eyes wandered. The fire had burned low and the twinkling tree lights looked dimmer in the early morning light. The puppy was at the door, loudly yipping. Sam yawned and stretched, wincing at the crick in her neck. She moved on stiff legs to the front door, slipping her feet into fur-lined moccasins before turning the knob, expecting to see Mattie on her front porch.
She blinked against blinding sunlight reflecting off freshly fallen snow. She brought a hand up, shielding her eyes. Her eyes traced over a dark shadow on the lawn. Sam’s mouth dropped open. She tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words.
It was Nic. The wind was blowing through her golden blonde hair, lifting the strands off her broad shoulders. She wore a form-fitting red coat and matching red pants with white cuffs tucked into black boots. Sam automatically moved forward, the puppy toddling behind her, down each step.
She was swept up into a strong embrace, the breath knocked from her lungs. Lips were everywhere, upon her cheeks, her nose, and her mouth. Her lips fell open and she felt Nic’s tongue slip inside, threatening to devour her. Beneath her talon-like grip on Nic’s upper arms, she felt the blonde shiver.
Nic’s lips left hers, moving, trailing a line of kisses to her ear. Sam heard her inhale deeply, as if she could breathe in Sam’s essence.
“You came back,” she said, fingers desperately touching everywhere she could reach to be sure Nic was real.
“You finally believed in Christmas.” Nic’s voice, at her ear, was full of husky emotion.
“I believed in you.”
Lips were upon hers again and Sam became lost in heady sensation. At last, they broke for breath, leaning back so that only their foreheads touched together. Sam clutched the front of Nic’s coat in her grasp, afraid that if she let go, her knees would buckle.
After long moments of breathing into each other’s mouths, a grin broke out on Nic’s face. Sam felt her lips curl into an answering grin. Trembling fingers came up, capturing Nic’s face in her hands. She kissed Nic, taking her time, turning the tone of their kisses from desperate and frantic to slow and seductive.
As their lips parted, Sam looked beyond the gorgeous woman dressed in the Santa suit in her front yard. She had seen the sleigh before, but in her excitement at seeing Nic, she hadn’t truly registered its presence. Neither, it seemed, had she comprehended the sight of the two animals hitched to the front.
“Is that…?”
“Jingle and Belle,” Nic said.
The two reindeer looked balefully at Sam and stomped their hooves in the snow. They each wore harnesses and had blankets draped over their sides with their names embroidered on them.
“Those don’t belong to Mrs. Jensen, do they?” Sam asked, already knowing that she didn’t recognize them from the widow’s farm.
“No.”
“You didn’t steal them from someone else’s reindeer farm?”
“Nope, came by these honestly.”
The little golden lab had toddled in the snow, falling over several times, before she reached the sleigh. Jingle had her head bent low. The puppy looked up at the deer, leaning so far back she fell on her butt. Jingle bent low until they were nose-to-nose and sniffed deeply, causing the puppy’s fur to ruffle.
“Better bring her in before they decide to eat her,” Nic said.
“I might be scared of that if I didn’t know reindeer are ruminants. She’s in no danger of being eaten.”
“Still might make a good chew toy.”
“You should be more scared for your reindeer,” said Sam.
The puppy had latched onto one of Jingle’s antlers and was gnawing at it like it was a piece of rawhide. Sam laughed and went to pick up the little lab. As she did, she extended her hand, palm up. Both reindeer snuffled her hand. She squealed in delight as Belle licked her.
“Did you bring me a present?” asked Sam, spying the empty bags in the back of the sleigh.
“I thought we’d start with a ride.” Nic picked Sam up, puppy and all, lifting her up onto Jingle’s back. “After, perhaps, we can go inside and I can unwrap my Christmas present in front of the fire.”
“Christmas. It’s Christmas Day.” Realization dawned. “You said that wherever you are on Christmas Day…”
“I’m bound to stay in that realm until the next season. Believe me, Sam, I’m fully aware and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Nic reached out, playfully tugging at the red scarf draped about Sam’s neck. The action caused her to bend low upon Jingle’s back. Nic pulled her into a kiss; a searing kiss that warmed her from her lips all the way to her toes. As the kiss ended and she drew back, inhaling deeply, she caught the aroma of freshly baking cookies.
End
About the Author
Del Robertson
Del confesses to having an endless fascination of history, fantasy, mythology, and all things bizarre. She blames at least part of this on being raised as a military brat. Having lived all over the world has exposed her to many different people and cultures. It is from these past travels that she draws the characters who populate her stories. Del currently resides in Texas.
Del’s books include:
Taming the Wolff
My Fair Maiden
Malodorous
Maybe This Christmas
Jen Silver
Chapter One
This was a seriously stupid idea. She didn’t know why she’d let herself be talked into it. The mulled wine had a synthetic, metallic taste to it. Most of the stalls were selling the same tat. It would be the last time she promised herself. Visiting the Christmas market a month before Christmas. Not even to please her best mates.
“Hey, Jonesy, keep up.”
She hated when they called her that. She had a perfectly usable first name, but they had to use the derivative of her surname, like they were still on a netball court in high school, and that was thirty years ago.
“Emma, my name is Emma,” she muttered to herself as she quickened her pace to catch up to her two friends, almost bumping into Rosie when she stopped to look at yet another tasseled hat stand, this one featuring characters from Sesame Street.
“No, you don’t want a Miss Piggy hat!” Rosie’s partner, Lesley, pulled on her arm, steering her out of range of the hats.
“But…I really like the Big Bird one.”
“You’re not six. And you have loads of hats at home. Let’s find the Dutch section. I hear they’ve got great crepes.” Lesley succeeded in getting Rosie to move on.
Emma trailed behind, feeling like a spare part, as usual. This time last year when they had visited the market, she’d been happily partnered up as well. Or so she thought. The love of her life for the last two years had decided to tell her on Christmas Eve that it was over. Another reason why she shouldn’t have come today. But the shops started their Christmas displays right after Halloween, so she’d already had a month of not being able to avoid painful memories wherever she looked. Rosie and Lesley were only trying to help her get over the heartache.
“Time to forget the bitch and move on.” Les’s forthright pronouncement, delivered to her at regular intervals over the past year, hadn’t succeeded in making it any easier for her to “move on.”
She tried to get into the spirit of the day and let Rosie take a photo of her standing next to a giant bratwurst. Emma didn't even like spicy meat and wouldn't consider eating a sausage of any description nowadays even though she was a lapsed vegetarian.
Standing by the bratwurst, trying to keep a cheesy grin on her face while Rosie fiddled with her iPhone, Emma thought she caught a glimpse of her ex through the crowd. A swirl of green and red dyed hair was just the kind of thing Bernie would do at this time of year. “Cheers the patients up no end,” she would say. Green for St Patrick's Day, orange for Halloween. Other times of the year her hair would be whatever color took her fancy. Emma had told her on numerous occasions that frequent dyeing would destroy the roots. Maybe that was why she left.
When the woman with the red and green bob turned her head, Emma could see it wasn't Bernie and she let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Sausage posing over, they continued browsing through the market. Les pulled Rosie away from another hat stall, this one featuring variations on the Angry Birds from the popular app game. Emma enjoyed flinging birds at egg-stealing pigs as much as anyone, but Bernie had been obsessed with getting three stars every time and scoring the highest points. Emma couldn't compete and gave up trying. Maybe that was another reason why Bernie left.
Emma thought of the Christmas presents she hadn't been able to return still sitting in a box at the back of her wardrobe. One had been an Angry Birds watch that Bernie admired. Emma remembered thinking as she bought it that the watch was more suitable for a child than a forty-four year old nurse practitioner, but she was looking forward to seeing the smile on her girlfriend's face when she opened the present on Christmas morning.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” she muttered.
“What did you say, Jonesy?”
“Is it time for lunch yet?”
“Soon. Just another street to go.”
†
It was a relief when Les decided she’d had enough of wandering around, dragging Rosie away from another hat stall, and announced that they might as well go to the tapas bar. This was the carrot they had lured her with when she said she didn’t want to come this year. Lunch with a glass or two of red wine and her favorite tapas dishes and she was persuaded.
Emma heaved a sigh of relief as they sat down at their table, shedding coats and scarves.
“Come on, Jonesy, it wasn’t that bad. Got you out in the fresh air.”
“Sure. If you can call breathing in mulled wine fumes fresh air, while pushing through crowds of zombies mooning over all this stuff that’s supposed to represent German Christmas traditions. Where do Angry Birds and Sesame Street fit in?”
“Lighten up, sweetie.” Rosie put a menu in front of her. “This will cheer you up.”
Emma did feel cheered once they had polished off their selections of tasty Spanish fare and a bottle of merlot. She and Les waited by the door as Rosie went upstairs to go to the loo before they headed back to the train station.
“Don’t tell Rosie,” Les said, pulling a plastic bag out of her rucksack. Emma laughed when she saw what was inside.
“I didn’t see you buy that.” A big yellow bird face was staring up at her.
“I managed to slip away while you two were gobbling up the tasters on the cheese stall.” Les tucked the bag away again.
“You’re a big old softie, aren’t you?” Emma punched her on the arm.
“Well, you know what they say…butch on the streets…”
Rosie reached the bottom of the stairs as they finished the line together, “…femme between the sheets,” and burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, my love. Come on, we can just make the next train if we hustle.”
†
Emma awoke with a start. The train was pulling into the station and Les was grinning at her as she stood to retrieve her bag from the overhead shelf.
