Christmas Coda 33

Ryo and Kai from Blood Red Butterfly

 

 

Ryo had probably had worse Christmases. He couldn’t remember one though.

First, he had to work. That was a drag, but he was new man on the totem pole at Barton and Ross Investigations, so fair enough. He was the guy pulling stakeout duty on Christmas morning. Somebody had to be. Too bad because it was his and Kai’s first holiday as a couple, but he could wait a few hours to see what goodies Santa brought him. Except what Santa had brought seemed to be strife and unhappiness.

Ryo shifted position behind the wheel of the sedan. His butt ached from sitting for hours. Though not as much as his heart ached.

You were supposed to be honest with the people you loved, right? You didn’t tell them lies to keep the peace or make life easier on yourself. So when Kai had started in about how Laurel and Ojiisan were forcing Kenji to spend Christmas with them, Ryo had intervened.

“Dude, you have to think about what’s best for Kenji,” he had said.

“I am thinking of that!” Kai had snarled. He was pacing up and down the living room floor, past the towering Christmas tree piled with gifts and toys for his little son. “It’s our first Christmas together.”

“Yeah, so you’ve said about a dozen times now. But if Kenji wants to be with his mother and Oji--”

“Laurel’s lying!”

“Dude.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s my turn. I’ve waited and waited for this.” Kai’s fox-brown eyes glittered dangerously in his pale, furious face.

No wonder the kid was scared of him.

But Ryo did not say that. There were some truths you could not ever share. Instead he said, “Look, what do a few hours matter? He’ll be here the day after Christmas, right? He’ll love it. He gets two Christmases for the price of one.”

“It’s not the same! This was our first Christmas. You’re not going to be here. Now Kenji’s not going to be here.” Kai whirled away again and started another lap of the festively decorated room. 

He’d gone all out. It looked -- and smelled -- like Santa’s Village in there. Garland and candles and a couple of life-sized reindeer statues. Whatever. If it made him happy, it made Ryo happy.

But then disaster. Laurel had called to say Kenji now wanted to spend Christmas day at home. He was worried that Santa might not find him at his father’s or some such excuse. The thing was, Kenji didn’t really need an excuse. Not in Ryo’s opinion. If he was happier waking up Christmas morning in his own bed, well, he was the little kid after all. Kai was just going to have to swallow his disappointment.

But he had not swallowed his disappointment. He had been ranting and raving for nearly an hour when Ryo had made the mistake of trying to reason with him.

In Ryo’s opinion, not only was it not fair to blame Laurel and Ojiisan for this change in plans, it wasn’t healthy. Yes, it was Kai’s turn to have Kenji spend Christmas -- more than his turn -- and yes, Kenji would have had a great time. He usually ended up having a great time, even if he always arrived shy and uncertain and a little reluctant. But that was beside the point. The kid didn’t want to be there. And that wasn’t anyone’s fault.

Or even if it was partly the fault of Laurel and Ojiisan for those years of keeping Kai from his son and creating this unnatural tension…there wasn’t any point dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. Right?

“It seems to me like you’re more concerned with what you want than what Kenji wants,” Ryo said.

Kai had gone perfectly silent and perfectly still. When he turned, his face was bone white and his eyes were red and glowing. Okay, not literally red and glowing, but if Kai had been drawing himself for a manga -- Blood Red Christmas -- his eyes would surely have been red and glowing.

“What?”

Ryo said, “All I’m hearing is how disappointed you are. You’re not five years old, Kai. So next year, maybe he’ll be ready to spend Christmas Eve over here. And in the meantime you’ll have the day aft--”

“Get out!” Kai had yelled. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Gee, it was practically like old times.

Except… “It’s my house too,” Ryo had pointed out. Loudly. “So you get out.”

“Fine! I’m going.”

And he had. Stopping only to grab his car keys, he had flung out of the house and driven away into the rainy gray afternoon. Without so much as a jacket.

“Good!” Ryo had yelled as the front door slammed shut.

Peace and quiet at last.

Ryo got a beer out of the fridge and made himself a sandwich. Maybe after lunch, he’d have a nap. He would be working all night and it would be wise to take advantage of this lull in the storm. But he couldn’t sleep. Every time he glanced at that giant Christmas tree sparkling and alight, the embodiment of all Kai’s anticipation and hopes over these past weeks, his heart felt heavy.

He hated Kai being so hurt and disappointed, and maybe that was one reason he hadn’t been patient enough. He couldn’t fix this and so he wanted it not to matter so much to Kai. He wanted him to be reasonable and wise. But Kai was not reasonable and wise. Well, sometimes. But he was also headstrong and impulsive and emotional.

Kai did not call and he was not home by the time Ryo had to leave for work.

Ryo didn’t think he was in the wrong, but he did think he could have handled things better. Anyway, he hated quarreling with Kai, and quarreling during the holidays added a special level of awfulness to it. So he scrawled SORRY xoxo on a post-it-note and left it stuck the fridge door.

 

Rain drops hit the windshield. A gray Toyota splashed past Ryo and parked half a block up. The taillights went out.

That would be Ellison, Ryo’s relief. He checked his watch. Nine thirty. Shift over. And not a peep out of his phone all night. He checked his messages to be sure. But no. Nothing. Not a word from Kai.

He started the engine. He could always drop by his mom’s and spend Christmas morning there. If Kai wasn’t home…well, that was going to be pretty damned depressing. Or if Kai was there but still wanting to fight, that would be worse.

 For a few moments he sat watching the rain, car engine idling, then he drove home.

* * * *

Kai’s car was in the garage, so Ryo knew he was back. That was a relief. More of a relief than he wanted to admit, in fact.

The house was so quiet, he thought Kai must still be sleeping. And that could either be a good sign or a bad sign. There were no lights on, no music. The Christmas tree was a dark form in the gloom.

Ryo tiptoed through, heading for the bedroom, stopping only to plug in the Christmas tree lights. In the sudden dazzle of blue and red and green and gold he was startled to spot Kai huddled on the sofa. Kai looked straight at him. His eyes were dark in his haggard face. He said nothing.

“What is it?” Ryo went over to him, sitting down on the sofa, pulling Kai to him. He was thinking death and disaster at the least. Their earlier quarrel was forgotten.

Kai shook his head, but he leaned into Ryo. He was not crying, but there was something so sad, so heartbroken in his silence, that tears would have been a relief.

“Tell me,” Ryo said softly.

Kai moved his head in negation again, but he said into Ryo’s chest, “If you’re not on my side, then I have no one.”

“I’m always on your side. Always. You don’t want me to lie to you, do you?”

He felt Kai swallow. Kai said in that same smothered voice, “I don’t know. No. Only sometimes.”
Ryo smiled faintly.
Kai said, "I do want what's best for Kenji. But if I don't push this -- he's my son. He doesn't know me. I don't know him."
"I know. But you can't force it." Ryo kissed the top of Kai’s head. He smelled like he had been out in the rain for a long time. He felt chilled. His own Ice Princess. But now he knew the ice was a thin and too fragile shell. “I am always on your side. I guess the truth is, I can’t stand it when anyone hurts you. I didn’t want it to matter so much to you because there isn’t anything I can do about this situation.”

“I don’t need you to do anything except…"

"Except what?"

"Be the one I matter to.”

Ryo’s heart squeezed. “Kai-chan. You do matter. You matter more than anyone or anything.”

And that was the truth. Ryo wasn’t even asking for it to be true in reverse. Because if that wasn’t what love was about -- putting someone else first -- what was it?

He held Kai quietly, safely in the soft, prism of many-colored lights, and it was enough.

 

 

 

 

Advent Calendar Day 17

Today's Advent Calendar is another photo that I hope will inspire you to write something of your own. It can be a jokey try or a serious try. That's up to you. You can use my characters (GULP) or your characters. Whatever inspires you is fine by me on this rainy December morning.
 
On offer is the "winner's" choice of audio, print or ebook from my backlist. But the real giveaway is simply the pleasure and satisfaction of taking a few moments to do something creative during this hurried, harried time of year.

So here we go again, Write a paragraph or so about what you imagine is in that box. Who is giving? Who is receiving ....?

Advent Calendar - Day 16

I'm working on another couple of codas, but I decided I probably needed a couple of health and welfare days where I did not put my creative brain to use. So today's calendar is again looking at Christmases past. Only instead of childhood, I'm thinking of adolescence.

How did Chrismtas change once you were in your teens?

When you're a small child, it's all so simple. People know exactly what to get you, and you are in the delightfully uncomplicated situation of not needing to reciprocate. Ever. At all. It is enough to merely show your delight. Even showing disappointment is still acceptable in very small child cases. And of course most of us still believed in every holiday-related fantasy. Not only believed, were untroubled by thoughts of unlicensed flying reindeer, small foreign peoples forced to work in a sweatshop with only gumdrops for payment, and strange bearded men observing us while we were sleeping and waking. We were immune to calories and indifferent to alcohol.

Even from a religious standpoint, well, it's all about Baby Jesus. The promise and not the pain.
But then came adolescence.

In adolescence we know some hard truths. Starting with the Fat Man. And what is worse, if you're a kid of my generation, were the advertisements that began to skew our expectations and understanding of what Christmas should and could be. We began to compare our holidays with those of friends. We began to measure our real life against the life on TV and the movies. We began to want and wish for things that Santa could not deliver: friendship, popularity, romance...etc.

Maybe our family didn't celebrate Christmas.

Heck, sometimes we had to WORK on Christmas.

We began to reject traditions and it was still a bit too soon to have anything to replace them with.

Or was it?

What was Christmas like in your teens? Were the holidays full of teenaged angst? Or were they still merry and bright? Share a holiday memory or two.

Today's randomly selected commenter wins their choice of story or collection from my audio backlist. 

Advent Calendar - Day 15 - EXCERPT

Today we have an excerpt from one of my personal favorites, Snowball in Hell. I'm not sure if it really qualifies as a "holiday" story, but the holidays are certainly an important part of the novella. Anyway, here's a bit of bittersweet vintage mystery from the 1940s.

BLURB:

It's Christmas 1943 and the world is at war. Journalist Nathan Doyle has just returned home from North Africa--still recovering from wounds received in the Western Desert Campaign--when he's asked to cover the murder of a society blackmailer.

Lt. Matthew Spain of the LAPD homicide squad hates the holidays since the death of his beloved wife a few months earlier, and this year isn’t looking much cheerier what with the threat of attack by the Japanese and a high-profile homicide investigation. Matt likes Nathan; maybe too much.

If only he didn’t suspect that Nathan had every reason to commit murder.

EXCERPT:

Spain proffered a pack of Camels. Nathan took one, and Spain leaned forward to light it for him. Spain’s hands were large and well-shaped. His lashes made dark crescents against his cheekbones. As though he felt Nathan’s stare, he raised his eyes -- and Nathan couldn’t look away.

He stared into Mathew Spain’s long-lashed hazel eyes, and he realized with sudden terrible clarity that Spain knew all about him. Knew exactly what he was. Knew it as surely as though Nathan’s ugly history were an open file on his Spain’s tidy desk. In fact…Nathan glanced at Spain’s desktop as though somehow the explanation could be found there, because how did Spain know? How? Had it become that obvious? Like a scarlet letter branded into his skin -- or the mark of Cain?

Hot blood flushed Nathan’s face, and just as quickly drained away, leaving him feeling light-headed. He drew back, drawing sharply on his cigarette. He sat very straight.

Spain flicked his lighter closed, put it away. He seemed to be in no hurry.

“Why am I here?” Nathan asked, blowing out a stream of blue smoke. His voice was just about steady.

Spain watched him, eyes very direct between his straight, black eyebrows.

“Why didn’t you mention you were with the Arlen kid on Saturday night?”

“I wasn’t with him,” Nathan said. “I ran into him at the Las Palmas Club. We had a drink together.” He shrugged.

Spain leaned back in his swivel chair and rubbed his chin. “Listen, Sir Galahad, it might interest you to know that the lady in question didn’t mind throwing you to the wolves. She said it looked to her like you were pretty angry with Philip yourself. Like you were mad enough to kill.”

“She doesn’t know me very well.” Nathan studied the ashes on his cigarette.

“Did she threaten to kill her husband and Pearl Jarvis?”

“She might have.” Nathan smiled wryly. “I wasn’t listening that carefully to tell you the truth.”

“Why’s that?”

 Nathan said slowly, “I went there for a few drinks and some laughs, but after I got there…I realized that really wasn’t what I needed.”

“What did you need?” Spain asked -- and Nathan, for the life of him, couldn’t think of how to answer.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them looked away.


* * **

Christmas coda here.

Advent Calendar Day 14

Today we're sharing holiday cocktails. Post the recipe to your favorite holiday cocktail below and I'll randomly select three commenters to receive your choice of an audio book download code.


Actually one of my very favorite holiday drinks is just hot cocoa with a dollop of whipped cream and a splash of peppermint schnapps. But if you want to get fancy...

Espresso Martini Recipe

Ingredients

1 1/2 ounces vodka
3/4 ounce Kahlua coffee liqueur
1/4 ounce white crème de cacao
1 ounce cold espresso

Preparation

1.Pour the ingredients into a cocktail shaker with ice.
2. Shake well.
3. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Christmas Coda 32

Carey and Walter from Slings and Arrows

 

 

“Everything is not a joke,” Walter said.

Which was a clue to how tense he was about the upcoming Christmas dinner with his father and his father’s new wife. Walter usually liked Carey’s sense of humor.

“I don’t think everything is a joke,” Carey said, surprised.

“Of course you do.” That was so unfair it almost seemed like Walter was trying to pick a fight. Which really was out of character.

Carey didn’t enjoy confrontation and he sure as hell didn’t want to fight with Walter, so he was quiet. Walter turned away and walked to the frost-edged window of the apartment, staring bleakly out at the night. In the raw silence, Carey could hear the departing wail of distant train.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go,” Walter said finally.

“Go?”

“Come. To Christmas,” Walter said tersely. He turned to face Carey, his gold-rimmed spectacles glinting blankly, his expression withdrawn.

It was unexpected and painful. So painful that it took Carey a moment to say, “Look, Walt. I…know how to act in public. I’m not going to chew with my mouth open or talk about what we do in bed.”

Walter’s expression went tighter, closed like a fist.

“I don’t…understand,” Carey said at last.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Walter said with the same cold preciseness he used to use back when he’d been Dr. Bing’s teaching assistant rebuffing all slackers and goof-offs. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to come with me. You can go to your parents, correct? They’ll be happy to have you stay for a few days. We both know you’ll have a better time there.”

Carey swallowed. He was afraid the sound was audible. But Walter’s expression did not change. He was not going to relent. He did not want Carey to go with him. It was that simple. Simple as an arrow through the heart.

Carey said stiffly, “In that case, maybe I should just leave tonight.” He couldn’t imagine lying next to Walter in that perfectly appointed bedroom with all this between them. Hurt. Anger. Bewilderment.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Walter said.

* * * * *

Was it over?

Carey wasn’t sure.

They had been together for a little under a year. Walter loved him. He loved Walter. There was no question of that. There was no question that they were happy together. But Walter could be odd. Odd and hurtful. And Carey wasn’t sure that love was enough.

Four months ago Walter’s father had abruptly remarried. Walter had attended the small, private civil service without Carey. It had sort of bothered Carey, but he had understood. There was no love lost between Walter and his father.

“Believe me, you don’t want to go,” Walter had told him at the time.

“I want to go if you want me there.”

“I don’t want you there,” Walter had said.

That was Walter at his most bluntly honest, but Carey had forbore to take offense. The little Walter had shared about his childhood had been alarming to someone who had grown up in a big, noisy, affectionate clan like Carey’s. No wonder Walter had a few, well, intimacy issues.

When Walter had returned, he had said the wedding went smoothly and that he thought his new stepmother would suit his father. Carey had not pressed for more information. He was not sure he wanted to know.

But this was Christmas. Their first Christmas together. This mattered to Carey. Not least because they had both been invited to spend it at Walter’s family estate. And they had accepted. Together. As a couple.

Otherwise they could have spent it at Carey’s family -- where they would always be welcome with or without formal invitation -- together and as a couple.

Instead they would be celebrating Christmas apart. And Carey wasn’t completely sure if they still were a couple or not. Was Walter ashamed of him? Did Walter really think Carey would make inappropriate jokes or use the wrong fork or…

Or was it something else?

Something even worse?

Who knew with Walter?

This time Carey didn’t feel like being understanding or patient. It took him less than fifteen minutes to pack his suitcase (later he discovered he’d forgotten his toothbrush) and headed straight for the front door.

Walter was still staring out the window at the black and starless night. He didn’t turn around and he didn’t say anything to stop Carey.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” Carey said bitterly. He regretted that crack later, but at least he refrained from slamming the door.

* * * * *

Christmas day passed without a word from Walter.

Carey had told himself he wasn’t expecting to hear from him, but the letdown was something akin to discovering Santa had skipped your zip code. His family showed unusual discretion and tactfully didn’t ask.

It was a nice Christmas. It was a Christmas like all the Christmases that had come before it. And probably all the Christmases that would come after. The thing that would have made it different, remarkable, memorable was Walter.

“Maybe next year,” his sister Susan said, and Carey smiled noncommittally.

He stayed over the weekend. Walter wasn’t flying back until Monday anyway, so there was no reason to hurry home.

On Monday Carey debated staying over another night, but it was starting to feel like he was hiding out. If he didn’t go home, he needed a reason, and that reason would have to be there was something seriously wrong between him and Walter.

If he went home now, they could pretend it had just been an ordinary, run-of-the-mill argument. Carey wasn’t sure he was ready to face it being more than that. Once he’d stopped being so angry, he’d started missing Walter. He still loved Walter. Doubts about the future didn’t change that.

But sooner or later they were going to have to face it. Whatever it was.

* * * * *

The minute Carey unlocked the front door, he knew Walt was home.

The apartment was silent, but the silence had a living, breathing quality. Relieved, Cary pushed open the door and walked inside.

There was a neat tower of expensively wrapped red and green parcels on the chrome and glass coffee table. His own gift to Walt, a plum-colored cashmere pullover, hung over the arm of the sofa. All other signs of Christmas had been cleared away. Walt was in the kitchen making a grilled cheese sandwich.

He looked up at Carey’s entrance. “How was your family?” he asked.

“Fine,” Carey said. “How was yours?”

“Fine.” Walter was unsmiling and serious. But that was usual for Walt.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?” Carey asked.

“It was all right,” Walter said politely. “How was yours?”

Carey opened his mouth. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t play the game, couldn’t be a part of this. He wasn’t built like Walter. His former relief that everything could go back to normal vanished -- because this was not normal.

“I missed you,” he said. “But I guess I better get used to that.”

Walter’s pale, bony face reddened. “Carey --”

Carey waited but Walter didn’t go on.

Carey let out a long weary sigh. He hadn’t realized how tired he was. It was the effort of holding back all that sadness and worry. But there was no holding it back now. “That’s what I thought,” he said.

“What did you think?” Walter turned off the stove and came across the kitchen to Carey, but Carey put a hand up to stop him. Walter did stop. He looked stricken.

“Carey,” he said in a very different voice.

“I don’t know any way to explain it that I’m not going to sound childish or petty,” Carey said. “But this isn’t about where we spend the holiday. Or how we celebrate, except that holidays are for spending with the people we love.”

“Next year we’ll spend it with your family,” Walter said quickly.

“No. I don’t think we will because…” Carey swallowed but made himself go on. “I’m not sure we’ll be together next year. I don’t think we will be.”

Walter put a hand out to grip the back of one of the kitchen table chairs--as if Carey had punched him. No, more like as if Carey had delivered some mortal blow. “Of course we’re going to be together,” Walter said. He sounded almost frightened. “I love you and I know you love me.”

“I do,” Carey admitted. “But I just spent the five most unhappy days of my entire life. And I don’t even know why.”

“Why what?”

“Why it had to be that way. You shut me out -- and not the first time -- and there’s no debate, no discussion. It’s just the way it is. And then when you decide to open the door again, everything goes back to the way it was. Except now I’ll be waiting for the next time the door slams.”

“It’s not like that,” Walter said. “If I’m…if I’m closing doors, it’s to protect you.”

“Give me a break, Walt,” Carey said, surprised to find himself getting angry.

“It’s true.”

Carey shook his head and turned away. Walter caught his arm. “Wait.”

Carey stared at Walter, seeing the jump of his adam’s apple jump, the little nerve pulsing in his cheek. He seemed unaware his fingers were digging into Carey’s forearm. Walter kept himself in tight check all the time. Only with Carey did he ever let his guard down.

“I love you and I don’t want to lose you,” Walter whispered.

It killed him to hurt Walter. “I love you too, but we’re already losing each other if we can’t be honest.”

“Wait. Listen to me,” Walter said. “Just…listen.”

Walter didn’t go on, but Carey listened anyway. And he did feel like there was some kind of plea in Walter’s struggling silence.

“Walt,” he said helplessly. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to see me like they do,” Walter burst out. “I don’t know why you love me, but you do. And I don’t want you to stop. I know it’s not logical. It’s not rational. But I don’t want you to change toward me.”

Relief washed through Carey. This was one explanation that had not occurred. Maybe it should have, knowing even the little he did about Walter’s childhood. He was still a little angry, but now it was on Walter’s behalf. “I’m not going to change.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do.”

Walter shook his head. “Sometimes, even now, it’s a struggle for me not to see myself like they do.”

“You have to have some faith in me.”

“I do. This is about not having faith in myself.”

Carey said carefully, “But it’s also about not having faith in me and what I feel for you. I don’t want a stack of expensive presents. I want you. All of you. The good and the bad. The real you. Isn’t that how you want me?”

Walter said instantly, “Of course.”

“Buying a bunch of presents is like something your dad would do.”

Walter looked startled and then dismayed. “It wasn’t like that. I just want you to feel appreciated.”

Carey started to smile. Relief and happiness were filling that hollow ache he’d had for the past five days.

Watching him, Walter smiled tentatively in response. He drew Carey toward him, and this time Carey yielded. 

He said softly, “Okay, well as far as making me feel appreciated, I’ve got a couple of ideas…”

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

Advent Calendar Day 12

So did you all enjoy yesterday's fabulous coda? ;-D  No? But seriously there will be a coda in that spot shortly. I am now done with my holiday shopping. Round of applause please?

I caint heah you.

I CAINT HEAH YOU!

I am feeling happy today -- and even better, I am conscious and mindful that I am happy. In addition to finishing up the trial (and errors) that is Christmas and holiday shopping, I am starting a new non-fiction project next year (too early to discuss) and making other plans and devising strategies. This is that time of year. I'm on vacation but I'm not really on vacation. I have audio files to listen to, covers for translations to arrange, ads to run, etc. It never stops once you become your own publisher.

The other thing I did yesterday was sign up for two services that I think will improve the quality of life around Chez Lanyon. One is Farmbox Direct. And the other is Blue Apron. I think they will both result in us eating healthier and more delicious foods. I guess they probably are a little bit pricey but I look at it two ways: what is the point of working all the time, if we can't afford some quality of life improvements around this joint? And two, if we are eating smarter and healthier, it is worth every penny.

If you have your health, you have everything. One of my grandmothers used to always say that. When you're kid, it's highly amusing. As you get older, you realize there is something to it.

Anyway. That was yesterday. Today IT'S RAINING. It's pouring. My old man is snoring. I am happy. It is going to be a day of sitting in front of the fire and writing codas or listening to audio files. Haven't quite determined which yet. I have a birthday party to go to this evening. I am starting to unwind a little -- and there are still technically three weeks to go before I am back to work on Winter Kill.

 Today, I thought we could perhaps share our favorite holiday play lists.

Here's the one L.B., Harper, and Joanna (and me) came up with for the Comfort and Joy anthology. Do you have a Christmas or winter holiday play list? Do you have a favorite Christmas song?

PLAY LIST:
"It's beginning to look a lot my Christmas" by Michael Buble  (Joanna Chambers)
"Brothers and Sisters" by Twin Atlantic (Harper Fox)
"Nothing Like You and I" by the Perishers (LB Gregg
"Baby, It's Cold" by Dean Martin (Josh Lanyon)
"Tu Scendi Dalle Stelle" by Friar Alessandro (Josh)
"White Winter Hymnal" by Fleet Foxes (Joanna)
 "Stay for a While" by Nikhil Korula Band (Lisa)
The opening of Bach's Christmas Oratorio (Harper)


The giveaway today will be three print books from my print book catalog -- meaning one print book each to three lucky commenters. Remember you can contact me for your winnings through my website contact page.

You're still welcome to comment even if you already own everything in my catalog. I really do enjoy reading your comments. The one on holiday traditions and the impromptu storywriting were fantastic.

Christmas Coda 31

Con and Wes from EVERYTHING I KNOW

 

 

“What did you want for Christmas?” Wes asked.

It was asked absently, almost in afterthought as they were having a late dinner the week before Christmas vacation began. Wes was working more overtime than usual trying to finish up a couple of construction projects before the year’s end -- and since he always worked a lot of overtime, Con felt like they’d barely seen each other in weeks.

Of course that was as much due to Con’s schedule as Wes’s. Between school and the regular drives up north to visit his mother…

“I want to spend Christmas together,” Con said.

Wes’s smiled, his brown eyes warm. “We’re definitely spending Christmas together.”

But they already knew that. They were having Christmas dinner at Wes’s mom. Lizzy would be back east spending the holiday with her mom and Grammy Angie, so it was just Con and Wes -- and Wes’s mom and Wes’s job.

Con understood. They both lived busy lives. He just wished sometimes it could be him and Wes. Just the two of them. But even when it was just the two of them, like right now, Wes was often distracted, preoccupied with work. He was a workaholic.

Which Con respected. Even admired. But…

Wes leaned over -- Con craned to meet his kiss -- and Wes’s affectionate expression changed. “Hey,” he growled. “What are you doing up?”

Con sighed inwardly.

“I want a drink of water,” Lizzy said from behind him.

Con and Wes drew apart again. Lizzy padded across the kitchen floor in her pink nightie and fluffy pink robe, heading straight for Con.

“Do you think Connor is a drinking fountain?” Wes was still trying to hang onto the forbidding Pappa Bear voice, but Lizzy just giggled and reached out for Con to pull her onto his lap, which of course he did. She smelled like bubble bath and little girl.

 “You’re supposed to be in bed,” Con told her as Lizzy made herself comfortable.

She gave him a look of sweet understanding. She had both of them wrapped around her littlest little finger. And well she knew it.

“How about a tune-up for that death trap you drive?” Wes suggested.

It took Con a second to remember they had been discussing Christmas presents.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said uncomfortably, picking his fork up again. They having a casserole. Wes was a master of casseroles. He had a casserole for every occasion -- and occasions no one other than the Campbell Soup people ever conceived of. This one had ground beef and noodles. Actually, they almost all had ground beef and noodles. Con chewed and considered.

He didn’t want to reject a potential gift if that’s what Wes wanted to give him. And it wasn’t really about the money because they had had several talks about money, and Wes had done his best to reassure Con on that score. It did continue to bug Con that he was always in the position of “taking.” But in their last conversation, Wes had asked him to please stop talking about “taking,” and Wes had been serious.

“You don’t talk about giving and taking in a relationship. Not like that,” Wes had said, as though he actually had experience at relationships.

But then again, remembering some of the problems with Eric, maybe Wes was right. Maybe his instincts were the truer.

“I know I don’t have to,” Wes said now. “But I worry about you driving back at night and breaking down on the road somewhere.”

This was delicate ground. Once before Wes had offered to loan Con the money for car repairs and he had declined. When Wes had pressed him, Con had gotten snappish. That was before the big talk about giving and taking.  

“That would be a thoughtful gift,” Con said, making an effort.

Wes’s mouth firmed like he was trying very hard not to make any sound or expression that would lead Con to think he was being laughed at. “Okay, we’ll see what Santa thinks,” he said briskly. He looked at Lizzy. “Speaking of Santa, I think he’s checking his list right about now.”

“Ha ha ha!” Lizzy chortled.

Or maybe it was “Ho ho ho!”

* * * * *

“Well, what are you getting Wes?” Pip asked.

They were on the playground, gazes trained on the two-legged whirlwinds kicking up sand and filling the air with shrieks. The kids were always wild in the days before the winter break.

“Not sure. He’s not easy to buy for.” If Wes needed something, he bought it. And he bought the best he could afford. But he didn’t go in for a lot of toys and gadgets. Unless the toys and gadgets were for Lizzy. Lizzy was Wes’s weakness. And Miss Lizzy was the original material girl.

“Surprise him,” Pip advised. “Go for something totally romantic.”

Con assented noncommittally. He’d feel silly trying to buy Wes a romantic gift. Like what? Wes was so…pragmatic. Plus, Wes didn’t like surprises. No, Con would be getting Wes some kind of gift certificate -- if he could think of something both inexpensive and personal enough. His own finances were severely limited. Of course you didn’t have to have money to give someone a wonderful Christmas gift, but you did need time, and he had as little of that as he did cold cash. It was frustrating because it was their first Christmas together. He’d have liked it to be special.

Of course just the fact that it was their first Christmas made it sort of special. And hopefully there would be other Christmases.

“Robin, stop throwing sand,” Pip shouted. In normal tones she said, “Do you think he’s going to ask you to move in?”

“I don’t know.” Con doubted it. Not in the short term anyway. Not that Wes was rigid exactly, but he had everything just the way he liked it in his life. He was not particularly adventurous and he was definitely not experimental.

“You’re spending a lot of time together.”

“Yeah, but he said early on he didn’t want to send any confusing messages to Lizzy.”

“That was in the beginning. You guys have been together for a couple of months now.”

“I don’t sleep over there on the nights Liz is home. Which is still most nights.”

As though choreographed, they turned their backs as a gust of wind sent a small dust devil skipping and hopping toward them. Or maybe that was just a very sandy kid wishing to lodge a complaint.

When they turned to face the yard again, Pip said, “If he asked you to move in, would you?”

“Yeah.”

Pip threw him a curious look. “You’re that sure?”

Con nodded. He was. Yes. He loved Wes. But he knew what Pip was really saying. Wes was older, he had a kid and a job that took up most of his time and attention. He was a passionate and attentive lover, but he was not Prince Charming. Pip thought Con deserved Prince Charming. She thought he deserved moonlight and roses and champagne. Wes was fine for now, but Con would be settling for less if he moved in with Wes. That was Pip’s view.

But as much as Con would have liked moonlight and roses and champagne, he understood Wes. He was like Wes in a lot of ways. He liked security and stability and he understood all about responsibility and commitment.

He didn’t think moving in with Wes would be “settling.” He also didn’t think that would be happening any time soon.

* * * * *

“Con,” Wes said abruptly.

Con looked up. It was Thursday night and they were having another late dinner at Wes’s. He’d be heading home after dinner because Lizzy was not staying over at her mom’s after all. It was disappointing, but it couldn’t be helped. Tomorrow night wouldn’t work because Con would be driving north to visit his mother. In fact, that’s what he’d mostly been thinking about, that he should have let Wes take his car in for a tune-up because the engine was making that weird ticking sound again.

At the grim expression on Wes’s face, the tuna casserole he’d just swallowed seemed to lodge in his throat. “What’s wrong?” he got out around the lump of tuna and noodle.

“I think I made a mistake,” Wes said.

“About what?” Con tried to sound neutral but, given the precarious start to their relationship, maybe his instant anxiety wasn’t unreasonable. Or maybe it was just that tuna casserole didn’t agree with him. One casserole too many?

Wes was still gazing at him with that uncharacteristic mix of unease and worry. “I wanted to surprise you, but I just realized maybe…”

“You made a mistake?”

“Maybe.” Color rose in Wes’s face. “The thing is, we haven’t had a lot of time to ourselves, and you’ve been working so hard, I just thought maybe you’d like something…different. Something more…”

Wes seemed to be waiting for Con to fill in the blank. Con said cautiously, “More…different?”

Wes gave a tiny shake of his head. “Romantic,” he said in a pained tone.

“Romantic?” Con echoed in astonishment.

Wes went redder. “Yeah. I thought what you said about spending Christmas together, and I thought if we went away somewhere for a few days where we wouldn’t have any interruptions--”

“We’re going away for Christmas?”

“If you want to,” Wes said. “I probably should have asked. I know I should have asked. I know you’re not crazy about surprises.”

“I’m not?” Con felt like laughing and he wasn’t even sure why. “Where are we going for Christmas?”

“Hawaii,” Wes said. “Blue water, white sand.”

“Moonlight and roses?” Con suggested. “Champagne?”

“Er, sure. If that’s what you want,” Wes said, but he was starting to smile too, looking more like his usual assured and capable self. “I want our first Christmas together to be…”

Con missed the rest of that. Our first Christmas together. Those were the words he needed to hear. Everything else was fine by him.

He glanced over his shoulder at the empty hallway, and then leaned forward. “It already is,” he said.  

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advent Calendar Day 10

Morgan Studios licensed thru Shutterstock
 

Day 10? Ten? Is that possible?

I do intend to write some codas in here. The skipped days are day I intend to go back and write codas. But in the meantime, I am Christmas shopping. Shopping, shopping, shopping. I am almost -- almost -- done. I still have to buy for my father and one of my nephews. My father is easy. He needs everything and he is grateful for anything. He stops to appreciate the wrapping paper.  That's my dad. My nephew... Well, he is always polite. But there is a difference in the politeness of someone who has received exactly what they want and someone who receives what they didn't want. :-D

Anyway, this puts me in mind of many other Christmases and holidays. And so today's Advent Calendar is about you. Share with us your earliest Christmas or winter holiday memory. How far back can you remember?

I think my very earliest holiday memory is of the Christmas tree in our house in Glendale. I must have been...hmm. Maybe three? No, probably two. New house, new baby. That's right. My sister would have been a newly born baby. Just three months old. I remember walking around the tree and accidentally knocking off a very fragile red glass horn ornament. There were two of them. Er...one of them.

Anyway, I remember the wonder and the horror of those fragile little ornaments. :-D I remember being totally confused by the holiday. Though not as confused as I was about Easter (where I continued to check many days afterwards to see if more chocolate rabbits had mysteriously arrived during the night).

How about you? Share with us your earliest winter holiday memories. And three random commenters will be picked to receive an audio book download.

Advent Calender Day 9 - Excerpt

I was Christmas shopping yesterday, so I didn't have time to do much on the Advent Calendar, so we're going to just go with an excerpt. This is from Icecapade. It was part of Carina Press's His for the Holiday anthology. I did that one with LB Gregg, Harper Fox and Z.A. Maxfield. :-)

We'll keep it simple today. One randomly selected commenter will win a copy of Icecapade to keep or to have gifted to a friend.

BLURB:

On the eve of the new millennium, diamond thief Noel Snow seduced FBI special agent Robert Cuffe, then fled into the dawn. Now a successful novelist, Noel uses his capers as fodder for his books, and has modeled his hero's nemesis (and potential love interest) on Cuffe. Though he leaves Robert a drunken phone message every New Year's Eve, Noel hasn't seen or heard from him in a decade.

So he's thrilled when his former lover shows up at his upstate farm one Christmas Eve. Elation quickly turns to alarm when Robert accuses Noel of being responsible for a recent rash of diamond heists. Robert is all business and as cold as ice: it seems his only interest in Noel is to put him behind bars.

Innocent of the crimes, and still as attracted as ever to the oh-so-serious lawman, Noel plans a second seduction—providing he can stay out of jail long enough!

EXCERPT:

 

When he finished tying a neat mountain climber’s knot, he started to move away. Robert hooked a hand beneath his arm. “Hold it.”

He reached for Noel’s waist and double-checked the knot.

“It’s not Everest you know.”

“I know. It’s at least twenty feet down and there’s loose rock and ice.”

Noel nodded. “If this keeps up, I’m going to start thinking you care.”

“Always the wiseass. Just watch what you’re doing.”

“Piece of cake.”

“Please be careful,” Francis said as Noel squatted on the ledge.

“It’s okay, Francis.” Noel swung a leg over the edge. He kept his gaze trained on the tree the rope was tied to.

Mind over matter. You know what you’re doing. You’ve done it hundreds of times.

He ignored that sickening shift, the conviction that his equilibrium was sliding out from under him. His gaze dropped to his gloved hands gripping tightly to the outthrust rock. Snow dusted the black wool and he could see every sparkling crystal blazing like diamonds in the sunlight.

Slowly, cautiously, he felt with his right foot for a toe hold. There was another disorienting slide, but he knew—logic told him—that regardless of the message his body was sending, he was perfectly all right. He was not moving. The hillside was not moving.

A hand clamped down on his wrist.

Noel looked up.

Robert was leaning down, his head blotting out the sun, throwing his face in shadow. Even so, Noel could make out the predatory gleam of his eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“Huh?” Noel was confused. “Nothing’s going on.”

“Bullshit.” Robert leaned closer as though trying to read his face. “There’s something wrong with you. There’s a problem with your equilibrium, isn’t there?”

Talk about lousy timing. “It’s no big deal. All I have to d—”

“Get up. Get out of there.” The hand locked around Noel’s wrist, tightened. He couldn’t free himself without struggling and no way could he afford any fast moves balanced as he was.

“What is it? What’s happening?” Francis asked, looking worriedly from Noel to Robert. Daisy trotted up and down the opening, whining, Even the llamas were gargling at him. In another time and place it might have been funny.

Or…not.

“Change of plan,” Robert said, brisk and businesslike. “I’m climbing down and Noel will hang onto the rope.”

“The hell.” Noel’s normal pragmatism gave way to affronted male ego.

Infuriatingly though, the rope looped around Robert’s large gloved mitt was already being retracted. He held his other hand out. His own balance apparently unshakable. “Come on, Noel. Let’s not waste any more time. You trying to climb down there is a very bad idea and you know it.”

Noel. It sounded natural coming from Robert. It sounded…nice. Which didn’t change the fact that he was totally incensed at being treated like he was helpless.

“No way. I can handle this. I just have to go slow. I’ve still got more experience than you have.”

“You have no idea of my experience. Now get up here.”

“You won’t fit through this opening.”

Robert laughed. “Now you’re being rude because you’re pissed off.”

Partly. Not entirely. Robert was going to be a tight fit. If he was in the least claustrophobic, it would be a no go.

“Chop chop. Little lost llama is waiting.”

“Oh for—” Noel slapped his gloved hand into Robert’s and let himself be drawn the rest of the way up. That change in angle and speed of movement sent his stomach plummeting and his balance skittering away. He had to close his eyes for a second, and that—as always—made it worse.

He stumbled up over the edge as Robert rose. Noel reeled into Robert’s solid chest. A hard supportive arm fastened around him and for a moment he leaned there while the world went spinning away. He could feel Robert’s heart pounding against his own through the canvas of his field jacket and the leather of Robert’s coat.

After a few seconds he became aware of Robert’s lips moving almost soundlessly against his ear. “If you think the earth moved just now, imagine what’ll happen when I fuck you.”

Noel’s head snapped up. He stared in wide-eyed disbelief. Had Robert…had he really whispered that or was Noel dreaming? Maybe Noel had slipped and knocked himself out because there was absolutely nothing to read on Robert’s face. Nothing but that funny glitter in his eyes.

Maybe Noel was finally losing it.

Or maybe Robert really had made the most astonishing statement Noel had ever heard.

 

Advent Calender Day 8

Today's Advent Calendar giveaway requires more effort from you, Dear Reader. You see below a photo of a holiday scene.

Write a paragraph on what you think is happening in that scene. You can use my characters or make up characters. You only need to come up with a paragraph, but if you get inspired, go for it. It can be funny or serious or whatever you like. I will choose based arbitrarily on what appeals to me most at that particular moment. Have I stressed UTTERLY ARBITRARY enough?

Your winnings: your choice of either an audio, print or ebook from my backlist.

Here is your writing prompt. Dazzle me. Dazzle my readers. We had 700 views yesterday.