Christmas Lights: An Owatonna Christmas Novella Page 4

  She snickered, as did I. I kind of suspected Benoit, Scott, Hayne, and Ethan really had no desire to wash off teats or shovel cow manure. They were city boys, like Ryker. I adored them all but they didn’t know a dairy milking cluster from a marble cake.

  Should prove to be an interesting evening in the milking parlor.

  Chapter 5

  Ryker

  I could never have imagined a worse scenario than five men in a cow barn who shouldn’t have been anywhere near the barn or the animals. Everything started okay. I mean, we all listened intently to what we were being told, but maybe I wasn’t listening as closely as I could have been, because I couldn’t stop staring at the way Jacob’s lips formed the words ‘teat dips’ and ‘important’. It was me who fucked up first, tripping over a shovel, and it was Scott who got the brunt of my stupidity and ended up face planting in cow shit. Add in Hayne completely losing it and crying with hysterics as Jacob’s mom marched Scott off for a shower, and I thought maybe we’d reached our limit on stupidity.

  How wrong could one man be?

  A cow kicked out at Ethan, who jumped back and flattened a newly clean Scott, right back into the shit, and what had been kind of funny the first time around now descended into halfhearted recriminations that were in danger of becoming more, as we were tired and cold. Friendship and camaraderie stopped at the level of cow shit, it seemed.

  This was not the way I’d envisioned us all joining together and helping Jacob. Things were certainly not the way I wanted this Christmas get-together to start.

  In the end, Jacob sighed, thanked us all so politely that it put Benoit the Canadian to shame, and ushered us all out into the snow, with Scott plodding back to the house, Hayne scampering after him, torn between laughter and sympathy, and the rest of us deciding to wait for them before heading out.

  It was dark, freezing, but we bundled up and waited, and I really had hoped it would be all six of us who went to the cabin.

  “I’ve got some last chores to handle,” Jacob announced as we were getting ready to leave. I didn’t know if it was his tone of voice or the half smile he gave me, but there was something wrong, or rather, there was something off with my boyfriend. Earlier, he’d been cheerful to get the tree with me, and if not happy, then he’d at least indulged my need for a tree. He hadn’t been angry that I’d made the cabin into a dollar store wannabe Aladdin’s cave, and he’d enjoyed exchanging frosty kisses, but this afternoon he’d been…

  Wrong.

  The Jacob today versus the Jacob from yesterday was like the man I’d known just before his final exams, the one who wouldn’t admit to anyone that he was scared to fail and only gave in and shared his fears when I found him nearly-catatonic, staring at a textbook in the library. I resolved to talk to him later, but it wasn’t the time. For now, it was my job to make sure that Scott, Hayne, Benoit, and Ethan all made it to the cabin alive. It was certainly a cozy trip. Hayne sat on Scott’s lap, holding on for his life, his hood falling down, and his curls bouncing as we passed over every hole and lump under the snow. Ethan was wedged by the door, humming under his breath nervously, and Benoit sat in the back, the only one whooping at every dip and dive while gripping bags and a selection of hockey gear. Crazy-ass goalie. We at least made it to the cabin in one piece, a combination of me following what trail I could see in the headlights and the fact that the old truck seemed indestructible.

  We lost Hayne immediately, with Scott stumbling after him, vanishing into the trees.

  “Oh my god,” Hayne said on repeat. “I need my paints… this is just…”

  We left them to it, the rest of us heading into the cool cabin. Jacob had shown me how to start the stove, and that was my priority. Then I lit the small lanterns in the food prep area and finally turned back to face Ethan, who appeared to be struck dumb with shock, and Benoit, who grinned so widely I thought it must’ve hurt. At their feet was a tumble of bags and sticks, and Ben had already taken off his huge thick coat, then taken out one of his jerseys and pulled it over his sweater. I could tease him about the team, but anyone who played on the Raptors had no place teasing anyone about anything. Nope, I knew it was going to be everyone else explaining to me, nicely of course, about how shit the Raptors were. I seriously didn’t have to be told that. Only I also felt incredibly protective of my team because we’d begun to bond a little. Not much, but enough now that Aarni was gone that there was some cohesion in play. After all, I was part of the hottest line in Raptors history. Not that this was saying much.

  “Tell me there’s a pond, and that it’s frozen over and we can get out there tomorrow.” Benoit demanded, and side-eyed Ethan

  His enthusiasm was infectious. “Oh yeah, there’s a pond, a big one, solid ice,” I explained, and we exchanged high fives.

  “What is”—Ethan waved at the ceiling, the dangling cheap-ass decorations twisting in the multitude of tiny breezes that came in through cracks, and the rising heat from the stove—“… this?” he finished.

  “Christmas!” Ben exclaimed and hurried over to the tree, poking at it and twisting it slightly. “Perfect,” he announced and then yanked Ethan closer. “Look at that bit there. I bet some animal rubbed close to the tree and took off the growing part. Look,” he was demanding and pointing at the bare spot that I loved, and finally Ethan seemed to relax, which I think was helped by Benoit kissing him soundly.

  Cue the arrival of a frozen-to-the-core Hayne, who carefully placed a box on the table and flicked it open, pulling out a smallish canvas, one of five I counted, and then spread out his paints. He did all of this while we watched, all of us knowing better than to interrupt his artistic flow, even though we’d lost the table for now. I knew that the scent of the oils and the splashes of color in his hair would be a sensory reminder of us all living together in Owatonna, and I craved that connection as much as I craved candy.

  We independently bundled everything into the two other rooms, neither as big as ours but both with solid beds and mattresses that I’d sent money to Jacob for. He’d wanted to argue with me, even over FaceTime I could tell that, but when I pointed out that it was entirely my idea to get us all together rather than have the cozy twosome he’d suggested at first, he’d backed down. Damn, stubborn man.

  I showed everyone where things were, which took all of ten seconds, and then we left Hayne painting away, and the four of us piled into Ethan and Benoit’s room, sprawled on their bed passing Cheetos around and drinking hot coffee, sharing memories, shooting the breeze. But even though I loved seeing them, all the while I listened out for Jacob coming in.

  Everyone had reluctantly gone to bed before he turned up, and I’d wavered from worry to annoyance that he had to stay out so late to work, and then the minute I saw him I felt such love that I stumbled a little, right next to Hayne’s icy masterpiece, which he’d propped up to dry.

  “Jeez, are you okay?” Jacob asked me with concern.

  “Me?” I thumbed my chest and went to his side, cradling his cold face, pausing to push his hood down and pull off his beanie, flattening his hair which spiked up comically. “You’re so cold.” I took off his gloves and held his icy hands in mine, then tugged him toward the stove. “Why were you so long?”

  “Extra time,” he joked. “You know what it’s like.”

  I helped him out of his coat, which was damp with snow, and hung it close enough to the stove that I hoped it would be dry by the morning. Then I made him sit on the chair, and pulled out the stove kettle to boil water and make the best hot chocolate I could without milk, whipped cream, or marshmallows. We didn’t talk while I did that; I let him have his peace as he appeared oddly reserved and mesmerized by the flames in the stove.

  My instincts told me something was wrong, but maybe now wasn’t a good time to ask if everything was okay. What if a cow had died? What if a shit ton of milk had soured? Not that this was likely. After all, it was as freezing out there as a goddamn refrigerator. But what if he’d just overworked himself to the point
that he couldn’t move at all? I shuffled a chair close to him and handed him his chocolate.

  “Drink this,” I demanded. “It will warm you up.”

  “Did everyone get in here okay?” he asked after a few moments of sipping the hot drink, and I wondered if maybe he was thawing from the inside out.

  “Hayne did art, Scott was in charge of handing him paints, Benoit poked at the tree, and I really think Ethan went into shock, muttering something about the Bahamas. Not that I was entirely listening. Then we sat around and talked hockey, about all the college games we played when it was about the sheer honest fun and not just work. That was all good.”

  He looked at me over the rim of his mug. “Are you not having fun with the Raptors, then? I thought that was the point of you having the career you dreamed about?” I couldn’t make out his tone, and I blinked at him. Was that some kind of criticism or…? “Sorry,” he apologized immediately. “What I meant to say was I hope that you’re enjoying your work with the Raptors. It just came out wrong.”

  Very wrong. Yet another indicator that things weren’t entirely on an even keel here.

  I held his free hand and squeezed it to reassure him.

  “I love what I’m doing,” I reassured him. “I’ve always wanted it, and yeah, it’s not easy sometimes, but I wouldn’t switch what I’m doing for the world.”

  There. Was that enough reassurance to quiet his fears that I wasn’t happy? I hoped so because I assumed he was worrying about me. He did that a lot.

  He smiled then and shook off my hold, taking his mug to the tiny sink and putting some water in it to soak.

  “I’m really happy it’s going well for you,” he said with his back to me. I crossed over to stand behind him, sliding my arms around his middle.

  “I love you so much,” I murmured, kissed that space between his shoulder blades, and inhaled the scent of my man, who’d worked so hard. He turned in my hold and looked down at me, cradled my face in his large hands and kissed me so deeply it took my breath away.

  “I love you more,” he announced, then winked at me, and just like that, calm, happy Jacob was back, and I laced my hands around his neck and held on tight.

  “Want to go to bed?” I lowered my tone and waggled my eyebrows.

  With a contented sigh, he pulled me close. “Yeah. Always.”

  When I woke up, Jacob was gone, but I knew that was going to be the case. For such a big guy, he had this way of moving silently around places and always refused to wake me up when we were together. I was disappointed because I kind of wanted to be woken up, just so I could hug the warmth of him, all sleepy and cozy in bed, but instead I woke up to his cold side and the chatter of my friends outside in the main part of this tiny cabin. When I joined them, it was to see Ethan in charge of breakfast, which mainly consisted of bagels, pots of cream cheese, bacon bits that were fairly unrecognizable as such, chocolate, jelly, coffee, and a pile of confectionary that had come from god knows where. Hayne had cleared half of the table, but we didn’t stand on ceremony, and I actually ended up eating my body weight in bagels while sitting cross-legged on a cushion by the stove. I had to hand it to Ethan. He was one bossy fucker, but he really knew his way around this makeshift cabin-in-the-snow kind of thing.

  Turned out Ethan was also in charge of the snowman, which according to Ben was something we had to do. Working as a team, we ended up with a close approximation of a yeti-sized shape next to the cabin, using some of the cheap Christmas decorations to make him look handsome. Ethan’s words, not mine.

  “Yep, that is one gorgeous snowman,” Ben teased Ethan, which somehow meant we ended up in a snowball fight, Hayne passing on the game and heading inside to paint, and Scott and me against Ben and Ethan.

  “This is not a fair fight,” I announced when Ben dodged a volley of snow we’d catapulted at him. He was way too fast and slick at avoiding us, but it seemed Scott and I were as devious as each other, calling Uncle on the fight and then shoving Ben into a hole and pelting him from the top.

  Tired, happy, and laughing, we headed back inside, water hot, coffee on, just in time for Jacob to appear again. He seemed happier this morning, high-fived and hugged everyone, listened to our stupid snowball stories, and even complimented our weird-ass snowman. Also he had a rucksack of decorations that he’d brought back with him, which included the lights he’d mentioned, large colored bulbs on thick cord, and a collection of glittery things that his mom said would suit the cabin.

  I rummaged through the bag, finding treasure after treasure, laying the lights out to see if they worked, and then I found something that made my heart fill with emotion. Made of two wooden pegs and painted cardboard, with a fluffy woolen nose in bright scarlet, it was clearly a homemade Rudolph, and when I turned it over in my hand, I saw a scrawl that said Jacob.

  “Oh wow.” I handled it like the precious object it was, part of the childhood of the man I’d fallen in love with, and my chest grew even tighter. I knew that my dad had a collection of the stuff I’d made as a kid, he and Mom both, but I hadn’t seen any of it for a long time, and anyway, those were my creations. This was Jacob’s past I had in my hands, and it was special.

  “I was six,” Jacob said and reached out to touch it with a soft smile. “I remember my mom cried when I brought it home and that she put it right at the front of the tree, made this huge fuss about what I’d done. Every Christmas it came out, but for the last couple of years, we haven’t… yeah.”

  He didn’t finish the sentence, and abruptly that wistful sadness was back, which I attempted to kiss away.

  “Get a room!” Scott announced and jumped on us.

  “Asshole,” I yelped and shoved him away, holding the peg reindeer protectively to my chest.

  “What you got there?” Scott asked and peered at my hand, but for some reason, I didn’t want him to see. I wanted it to just be me and Jacob and the tiny reminder of him as a boy, and I didn’t want it ruined.

  “Nothing to do with you,” I snarked and pushed him again, which as usual ended with us wrestling, me one-handed until Jacob helped me out and the whole thing finished with me and Jacob both sitting on Scott, laughing so hard we were crying.

  Hell, it was good to have everyone here.

  Chapter 6

  Jacob

  They said they wanted a shinny game, and so they were getting one. Just as soon as I got the tractor engine put back in place. I breathed a sigh of relief when it was settled and off the engine hoist. Hours of work lay ahead yet, but things were looking good. Maybe we could avoid rolling hay bales through snow and ice and cow shit today. What a novel idea!

  Wood stove roaring in the corner, I gathered up my tools and got to work. I’d moved away from my warm boyfriend at quarter after two, leaving him and everyone else sound asleep to come here to wrap up this job. I’d filled a thermos with disgusting instant coffee, skipped eating, and crept out the front door, wishing against wish I could stay in bed, cuddle with Ryker, and enjoy Christmas morning, just this one time. But cows do not milk and feed themselves. There’s no such thing as a day off for people who care for animals. No vacations either. We had never had family holidays like so many other kids did. No trips to Disney World. There was no one to tend to the cattle, and we simply couldn’t afford it. That trip to Canada where I’d met Ryker had set us back financially. I thought, when the nights were cold and long and sleep eluded me, that even with a small bursary, the trip had been another step the money issues we now were buried under.

  I refused to dwell on the ring. I’d have to come up with something else to give Ryker, but I had no idea what. It was Christmas Day. I had nothing for the man I loved. Nothing. Unless he could enjoy the sounds and sight of a working tractor, he’d get nothing from me. It made me sad and mad, both emotions vying for that gold medal. Right now, anger was winning. As I worked and ratcheted and skinned my knuckles more times than I could count, my resentment for this damn tractor and this farm grew. By the time my mother, dressed for
morning chores, arrived with more coffee and an egg sandwich wrapped in foil, I was seething.

  “Take a break and eat, son.” She walked over to me, holding out the food and drink. I waved her off. “Jacob, you have to eat. Now take five minutes and—”

  My greasy fingers slipped off the wrench, and my knuckles raked over the engine block. Again. This time I didn’t just cuss. I whipped the wrench across the equipment shed and rounded on my mother. It was ugly. I was ugly.

  “Jesus Christ, Mom, I don’t have five minutes! I don’t have one minute! This fucking farm is sucking every second of my life away from me. I don’t even have time to spend with my friends or my boyfriend because of this miserable place. So stop trying to make me feel better because there is no feeling better until I can get this fucking tractor running and do chores!”

  She stood there, chin high, eyes dewy, shoulders back, the lines in her face that she shouldn’t have at such a young age deep as she glowered up at me.

  I lowered my eyes to my bloody knuckles. “I’m sorry, Mom, so sorry. I don’t know where that came from. I just…” I glanced at her. The anger was still lingering in her jaw, but her blue eyes were softer now. “It’s Christmas, and I don’t have anything for Ryker. How do I face him? He’ll have gifts for me, the guys will all have gifts for each other, and there I’ll stand, stinking of cow shit and grease, with nothing but a measly apology to give him. There are days I hate this farm. I hate being poor. I hate working on secondhand equipment all the time. I hate not knowing if the milk check will cover the two mortgages. I just…” I ran out of venom then and dragged myself to the rear of the shed to pick up my wrench. Unable to look at her, I went to work.

  “You will look at me, Jacob Benson,” she said after a moment of utter silence passed. A green log in the stove cracked like a pistol. I lifted my gaze from the engine and looked right at my mother. “You are never to speak to me in that tone of voice ever again, nor are you to use that kind of language in my presence. Do not ever think that you’re too big for me to wash your mouth out with soap. Do you understand me, young man?”