Aqua - Christmas in New York City (Aqua Romance Travel Series) (7 page)

“Fine. Not a problem.” He coughed and waved her off. “I’m not needing you to look after me.”

Not that you’d ask.
Casey placed the gift on a side table.

He coughed again. “What will you do if you don’t have kids?”

“Continue my life.”

“Selfish.” He held the platter of crostini in his hand and the crumbs fell onto his lap and the floor below.

“Strange comment coming from the man who didn’t want me.”

“I wanted you, just not when we were that young.”

“And Mom?”

“Look,” he plonked both elbows on the counter and leaned toward her. “You were an accident but we raised you. We gave you a roof over your head.”

“I need to know, Dad, was Mom upset?”

“No.”

“But it changed her life.”

“What kid doesn’t!”

“When did she want kids?”

He shrugged.

“Dad, tell me. I want to know.”

He waved her off. “It’s so long ago.”

“I need to know the truth.”

“She loved you.”

“I know, but, did she want to have children?”

For the first time ever, Foster hesitated. He prided himself on shock value, but of his own creation. When his statement was the truth, it took on more of a fatalistic nature and he wasn’t in control of the outcome.
 

“Dad! Did Mom want children?”

“No.”

THE FROSTED hills folded into one another as the road twisted through the countryside toward Trish’s house. Casey pulled on the bow and unwrapped a low cylindrical gift shaped like a drum. “So why did you say this would be good for the drive?”

“You’ll see,” Harry said with a wide grin.

Inside were piles of tissue paper and as she dug deeper, she felt a firm, heavy object. One more layer of parchment paper and she held a dark loaf in her hand.

“Happy fifteenth day of Christmas,” he said.

“What is it?”

“Panpepato,” said Harry. “An Italian cake.”

“What’s it made of?”

“You’ll have to eat it to find out. There’s a special ingredient.”

Casey took a bite. “It’s gingerbread.”

“There’s more than that.”

“Cinnamon.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuts.”

He nodded. “Have another bite.”

“Chocolate.”

He smiled.

“Honey? Cloves? Tell me!”

He chuckled. “Can’t do that. Have another bite. You’ll figure it out.” And with that, he held out his hand for a piece.

Casey had finished half of the loaf by the time they pulled into Trish’s driveway. Everyone was still at work or school and the St. Bernard barked and lunged at his chain. They walked a large circle around him and headed for the woods. It was the annual tradition of vine-hunting for Casey’s Christmas wreath.
 

Within minutes, they had cut enough vines and laid them out on the back picnic table. They twisted a few vines together and then layered them, thickening the strand.
 

“Now, let’s bend it,” said Casey.

“Won’t it break?”

“Look,” she pointed toward the vine creeping around the corner of the house. “We’re just replicating what nature does.”

Harry held out the vine, about a foot in diameter. “Let’s make it bigger.”

They added a number of vines to lengthen it and then wove additional pieces till it was thick enough, sticking in fresh cedar sprigs and dried berries.
 

Casey pulled a long length of red velvet ribbon off of a spool, placed the two loose ends together and folded it to find the center point. Their hands met repeatedly as they bunched small loops together until they had formed a large bow. At the base, Casey braided stalks of dried roses that Harry had given her and then she fastened the bow.

Harry pulled a long string out to loop around the top and the rope became lodged between their arms, and for a moment they were stuck. They looked at each other, a raw energy rising to the surface. “We better not.” Casey tugged at the vine and loosened it. “They’ll be home any minute.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders and worked his cold hand up her shirt.
 

“They’re Finnish. Dinner at six, sauna at seven.”
 

“We’re just replicating what nature does.”

Casey and Harry were on the floor when they heard Trish’s voice, and rose quickly and adjusted their clothing, their breathing heavy. Casey’s legs were shaking and she unwrapped the panpepato and bit into the last piece. She chewed, then stopped and held her hand on her cheek.
 

“What?” Harry had an unusual smirk on his face.

A strange look crossed her face. “I bit into something hard.”

“You found the special ingredient.”

“What is it?”

“Your gift.”

Casey pulled a foil wrapped shape out of her mouth. Harry slapped his hands on his shins and couldn’t stop laughing. “I was wondering how long it would take!”

“That’s why you kept saying, ‘Have another bite’.”

“My mom always buried something in the panpepato for me.”

Casey unwrapped the foil slowly, until a small diamond pendant appeared. She held it up into the winter sun, and a clear light shone through it, as bright as the snow around her. “It’s beautiful, Harry.”

“You are beautiful.” He kissed her. “They match the earrings from Day 14.”

“I thought so.” She wondered, if there was a ring to match the rest of the set.

IN THE sauna, Harry dipped the ladle into the bucket and poured some water on the rocks. The water burst into steam with a sharp cracking sound and long drawn out hiss. Instantly the heat in the sauna rose and steamed cedar and lavender wafted in the air.
 

Trish and her husband, Osku, talked about the Finnish custom of steam bathing, the karate tournament their son was in and the new school their daughter was attending. As they discussed how valuable the curriculum was, Harry kept watching Cassandra, the perspiration forming into a thick band of sweat between her breasts, her thick lips pursed together as she blew on the bangs plastered to her forehead.
 

Harry handed Casey a glass of cool water, surprised at the longing in his body with the slightest brush of her hand. All the while the hosts kept talking, he held in a desire that was inappropriately growing given the company, and he clamped his hands onto the water cup, imagining it was Cassandra’s body.

Cassandra took another swig of cold water and then doused some over her head. “I’m really heating up,” she said.

Harry grabbed her hand. “Come cool off.”

“Where?”

“Outside.”

The moment the door opened, a wall of cool air seeped into her pores and she felt like she could breathe again. Elated at the release, she leaned over the railing and Harry scooped up a fistful of snow and placed it on her bare back to cool her. A squirrel sprung to a nearby branch overhead and dropped snow on her arm; they counted the seconds till it melted.

When she walked down the stairs and first stepped into the snow, an electric energy shot up from her heel to the tip of her head. She bounded over the hard surface, till she was standing at the base of a tree and Harry bunched snow together in his hands and packed it into a thick ball. He tossed it high against the tree trunk and the snow shattered down on them, each flake tingling their bodies. It was an electrifying sensation and Casey followed suit, lay down on the snow at the base of the trunk and tossed a snowball. She felt her whole body tingle under the shower of snowflakes as if her body was smoldering.
 

Harry looked at her tracks that led to the tree. It was primal, their bare bodies, Casey writhing in the snow with delight as big flakes fell onto her body. She opened her mouth
 
and stuck out her tongue to catch a flake. Her nipples were drawn firm against the cold and an excitement rippled under his skin and spread to his groin.

He dropped to his knees, crunched snow in his fist and ran a single edge along the base of her breasts. Thin shards of ice had formed on the tip of her hair, but her body was warm to the touch. She pressed a cold palm against his warm inner thigh and interchanged a thick pack of snow for the warmth of her body. In response, he spread the curves of her flesh till he found a spot warmer than her body melting the snow. At the slightest pressure, she heaved her body toward him and pulled him into her. He lifted her small body into his big hands and pushed her against the tree trunk. They abandoned all resolve, their bodies steaming from the sauna, their passion setting them on fire.

The sauna door creaked open and Harry stopped for a moment and they both listened, panting against their bodies to break the sound, kissing and licking silently as the current of desire kept rippling. A calm patter of snow fell around them and Casey felt a tingle of the cool flakes against her warm skin. She leaned back and opened her arms and mouth to the sky. It was so raw that Harry reached out for her breasts and pulled her towards him, their bodies coming together again, melting the snow.
 

They heard quiet footsteps and saw two figures walk toward the main house. Light from the backdoor flooded the backyard and then the door closed and darkness returned. Casey and Harry turned over in the snow, and let the dark forest receive their voices, and the tall pines swallow their desire.

THREE DAYS later, the hospital called. Casey had just given Harry his gift of tickets to the Annual Winter Solstice Celebration.
 

“You’re like La Belafana,” he said.

“Wait, wasn’t she a witch?”

“A good one.”

“I like the notion of Santa better.”

“She’s special to Venetians though. She only arrives to us by boat.”

They were talking of traditions while their hands were dipped in water, washing pieces of salted cod till they had removed surface sodium, and then submerged them in a container.
 

“So why can’t we just buy fresh cod and make the same dish?” Casey rubbed her nose with her forearm. “I mean, if your ancestors had refrigeration, they would have preferred that over this method.”

“I always asked my mother the same thing.”

“She said?”

“It’s tradition. That’s what makes holidays so special.”

“I could think of other traditions that are more fun to uphold.”

“It wouldn't feel like Christmas if I didn’t go to the deli three days before Christmas and choose the salted cod.” He recalled one year when he came back with meat that was yellow and his mother returned to the store with him, showing him the creamy white flesh, the light-colored skin, the proper thickness of the filet.
 

“Just think, women have done this for centuries.”

“And now we have refrigeration!”

It was the last time she joked. The phone rang and Casey answered it, her face turning pale, water dripping onto the floor from her limp hands.
 

CASEY TURNED the pages of the magazine, put it down, then picked up another one, tapping on the chair as she aimlessly flipped the pages. Harry put his hand over her restless fingers. “This is precautionary,” he said with confidence.
 

“The tests I had last week were routine procedure. They never call that quickly with results unless they find something.”

“It might not be anything serious.”

“But if it is.”

“Then we change our plans. You do the surgery now rather than in the spring.”

“Good thing we did the twelve days of Christmas already,” she said in a brave voice.

“We still have three more to go.”

She bit her lip. “Really, I’m not feeling very celebratory.”

“Okay,” he said in a soft voice.
 

Earlier, her eyes had scouted the waiting room. A couple sat with heads bent together, a mother held her daughter in a strained embrace. Casey looked toward the window where a woman sat all alone, her eyes closed, rocking to the music from her iPod.

Casey wondered if life had been simpler before Harry? If there was no one to live for, major illnesses didn’t matter as much. On the ship, she had it all figured out. She decided to start her Chair position during the fall term and then give the university notice so they could fill her classes for the winter. Recovery was a long process and she would take that time, directing academic requirements from her home office as required.

It felt good to have the decision made. It wasn’t something she wanted hanging over her head whenever she started dating again. It was bad enough to decide when to get more intimate, when to trust a guy with family issues, without bringing up the subject of health. Getting a guy to stay nowadays was bad enough without a health issue to make him run. And if she told him too early, it could dampen a romantic momentum. If she told him too late, he would question why she held back this information. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to him if the guy had developed feelings. It’s what happened to Harry or he wouldn’t be with her right now. Who would be with a woman who had both breasts removed?

Casey looked down at her chest and felt disconnected, as if she were drifting away from her body, away from who she was. She thought back to the previous night when Harry ran his finger softly along her breasts. Now she would feel as if he was touching a stranger. Even when back in the comfort of their own home, if he leaned down to kiss her nipple, she’d feel too vulnerable after being poked and prodded by doctors all day long.

“If something happens to me.”

“Don’t talk like that, Cassandra.”

“It’s important to me.”

He nodded his head, obliging.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a sealed envelope with his name on it. Harry reached out slowly, and when their fingertips touched, he grabbed her hand tightly and held on.

For a moment, she longed for Roger. Not because she missed him but because he would have stepped in and told her what to do, been so belligerent about it that he didn’t give her much of a chance to say anything else. He would have made the decision for her.
 

Although she wanted the choice to be hers, at this point, she was too exhausted to think. Harry ran his finger softly along hers. “We’ll know the right thing to do.”