Chapter 6 #3
"What about Shawn?" asked Clayton. His heart ached at the thought of doing that to a kid.
"We'll let him open a present each morning and afternoon until you get there. He'll have time to play with everything he's getting, and it'll be great. We'll save the Xbox for last when you get here, okay?"
"Okay," said Clayton. His throat felt thick and once again, his eyes felt hot, and all of his feelings rushed at him, each one of them aching with how important this was, that this Christmas be the start of something new for him and Sarah and her little family.
Then he realized Kyle was watching him with wide blue eyes, and he swallowed, blinking fiercely.
"You all get some rest, and I'll call you in the morning," he said to Luke.
"Sounds like a plan," said Luke. "But seriously, Christmas will wait. There's no point in you driving on roads that are less than optimal."
"Okay," said Clayton again. "Talk to you tomorrow."
"Okay, bye," said Luke.
Clayton clicked the phone off with his thumb and handed it to Kyle, who stood there with it in his hand for a minute, before nodding.
"Are you hungry?" asked Kyle.
"I don't know," said Clayton. "I bought a tuna sandwich, but I forgot to eat it. It's probably frozen in the car by now."
"What have you eaten today?"
"Some beef jerky, some powdered donuts," said Clayton. "Mostly I drank coffee."
Now Kyle shook his head, as if in dismay over Clayton's lack of sense, and Clayton got the feeling that Kyle was about to go into babysitting mode. Which would be okay. Clayton found himself almost leaning in to the litany of care and generosity that he was sure Kyle was about to deliver.
"I'm going to show you to the guest room, and then you can take a shower while I heat up some beef soup with noodles. It'll help you fall asleep."
"How's that then?" asked Clayton.
"You will have a full stomach, you'll have eaten some protein instead of just sugar," said Kyle.
"Got any goat's milk?" asked Clayton before he could stop himself.
"As a matter of fact, I do," said Kyle with a lift of his chin. "I stocked up for this blizzard so I wouldn't run out."
Clayton nodded and then held out his hand as if to tell Kyle that he could lead the way. But then Kyle pointed at Clayton's feet, and his lace-up work boots that were dripping melted snow on the braided rug.
Obediently, Clayton undid the laces, and then carried the boots to the little mat by the door where Kyle's own boots were. Then, sock-footed like his host, he followed Kyle down a short hallway that went between the kitchen and the decorated living room.
There, Kyle switched on the lights. The guest room was small, but the bed looked soft, with a line of fluffy pillows leaning against the wooden headboard, and a snowflake decorated quilt over what might turn out to be a pile of thick, woolen blankets. He'd be as warm as a rabbit in a winter den.
"That's the guest bathroom there," said Kyle, pointing. "Plenty of towels and whatever you need. Where's your stuff?"
"In the car," said Clayton. "I'll go get it."
"You will not," said Kyle, sternly. "You are the guest. I'll go get it, you take a shower, and after we'll have some soup, okay?"
"Can I even argue with you about this?"
"Maybe another time," said Kyle. "For now, you need to do as you're told. You've got circles under your eyes that are so dark it looks like somebody drew them with black ink."
Clayton nodded, and Kyle went out of the guest room.
Clayton could hear him stomping on his boots to go out in the snow and cold once more, and slowly took off his socks and started unbuttoning his flannel shirt.
Then, when Kyle dropped off the green duffle bag, he closed the door behind him as he left.
Clayton reached out a hand.
The bag was ice cold to the touch, and he shivered, thinking of Kyle braving the storm so his guest wouldn't have to.
Well, with a host as nice as that, with such beautiful blue eyes, Clayton was going to be as obedient as he ever had been.
He started shrugging off his clothes as quickly as he could, grabbed his toiletries from the duffle bag, and started the shower.
Stepping into the stream of hot water, he sighed.
Maybe his Christmas plans weren't going as he'd thought they would, but maybe they'd turn out all right after all. And how could they do otherwise, in a house like this, which looked and smelled just like Christmas? Everybody he knew was safe at home, and as for Kyle—
Clayton closed his eyes and turned his face up into the warm water that was coming down like a comforting rain.
He didn't know what to make of Kyle, but everything about him had been good, so good, that arriving at the small house overlooking the South Platte River was like its own kind of miracle that Clayton had not been expecting.
Maybe that he didn't even deserve. But he'd find out soon.
After all, he was stuck in this little holiday box of a house that seemed stocked to the roofline with a sense of wonder, of warmth, of welcome.
Well worth the twelve-hour drive in a blizzard, for sure.