Chapter 4
Bea’s excitement over the pony had not dimmed from its initial silver shimmer before Austin announced that it was time to go to the dining hall for a bit of dinner.
“We need to put Cinders to bed,” said Clay. “She needs some down time so you don’t wear her out.”
“You can’t wear a horse out with love,” said Bea stoutly, her sweet face a little serious, even as it crumpled into a pout.
“You can’t, that’s true,” said Clay in calm agreement. “But we need to get some dinner before the snow gets too deep.”
“But I wanted to ride her.” Bea just about stamped her foot, and the pout deepened.
Ty had no experience with kids, none at all, so he wouldn’t have known what to do in a situation like this, or how to defuse the bomb that seemed about to go off.
He silently agreed that the pony had probably had enough for the moment, but he wouldn’t have had the heart to separate Bea from Cinders either. But Bill knew what to do.
“Honeybee,” he said to her. “This pony needs her rest and you need to give it to her. The needs of the horse come before the needs of the man. Remember?”
“Or the needs of a little girl,” said Bea, still scowling a bit, even as she pet Cinders’ neck. “But I did want to ride her.”
“In this snow?” asked Austin. “That doesn’t seem safe. I mean, is it?”
“Not as deep as it is,” said Clay as he put out the fire in the metal fire pit, which made the barn feel as chilly as Leland’s office. “We could tamp the snow down with one of the trucks, only they might get stuck, and the little tractor’s engine is on the fritz.”
Ty opened his mouth to mention, quite casually, that he was a whiz with engines, but perhaps the idea was to dissuade Bea from riding the pony in the snow, period, and that nobody would want his suggestion of him having a go at that engine.
Which, probably being a two-stroke, probably, would be easy for him to fix.
Instead of saying anything, he slipped into the clean, dry barn coat that Clay held out for him, and gratefully wrapped a warm, gray scarf around his head.
Following the others, he stepped out of the barn and into the blowy, snowy, deeply cold air, pausing as Clay secured the barn door, and trudged through the knee-deep snow to the main lodge, which he had passed on his way in.
Inside, only half the lights were turned on, so it was a little dim everywhere else but up front, near where the metal buffet tables were.
A single table had dishes and silverware on it, and he stood by, watching as things were set up, feeling idle.
Clay dashed into the kitchen to bring out a metal pan of lasagna, and Austin followed close behind with a covered plate of what must be garlic bread and a bowl of salad.
“It’s not very Christmasy,” said Bill as he sat down near one end of the table. “But there are fewer of us here, so it made sense to have this rather than turkey and fixings.”
“You can sit next to me,” said a soft voice at his side.
Ty looked down. Bea was looking up at him with earnest eyes as she slid her hand inside of his.
“Sure,” he said, again feeling somewhat afloat in his interactions with her, as he’d not had much experience with kids.
“Thank you for helping bring Cinders to me,” she said. “Cinders says thank you, too.”
She gave his hand a tug, then let go, peeled off her coat and slid off her boots, holding onto his arm at one point to retain her balance, like he was a person she knew, rather than someone she’d just met.
It was an act of trust, a small one, but his rush of gladness at being so trusted could not be stopped. So he didn’t.
“Take your coat off, young fellow,” said Bill, waving Ty over. “Take a load off.”
Ty thought to offer his help with the meal, but everybody was already sitting down, and the lasagna looked very good, and hot, and was all around tempting him to forget his manners. He ducked his head in thanks and sat across from Bill, with Bea taking the place at his side.
Clay sat next to Bill and Austin was on the other side, and for a moment, Ty let himself pretend that this was a little family that he belonged to. But that was nonsense, so he made himself turn his mind away and concentrated on the food in front of him.
The conversation focused on the food, passing the salt, asking for the salad dressing, and Ty let it swirl around him as he ate the lasagna and the garlic bread, and filled the corners of his stomach with salad.
As he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, which was really just a paper towel, he felt Bill looking at him.
“You’re staying with us tonight, I think, Ty,” said Bill.
“Do you have room?” Ty asked.
“It’s a resort, son,” said Bill with a laugh, low in his belly. “We have tons of room in this very lodge, but I think we’ll put you up in Leland and Jamie’s cabin, seeing as they’re in Chugwater and won’t mind very much.”
“Thank you,” said Ty. “I’ll call someone in the morning to haul my rig out of the ditch and be on my way.”
“On Christmas morning?” asked Clay, frowning. “Only emergency services will be on duty tomorrow. It’s fine if you stay a few days, ‘cause like Bill says, we have plenty of room.”
“Unless you need to be somewhere?” asked Austin.
Ty looked at the people around the table, who were looking at him with some concern in their eyes, as if they were worried he might simply tramp out into the snow and get himself lost along the way back to his rig.
He had no place to go. Seriously, no place. Other than turning in his rig, asap, and handing in his apartment keys at the end of the month, he had nowhere to be and no one to talk to.
But he couldn’t bother these nice people with his problems, so he simply shook his head and folded his paper napkin to lay it on his now-empty plate.
“Nope,” he said, doing his best to make his voice easy. “Nowhere to be.”
“Good,” said Bill. “It’s settled then. You’ll spend Christmas Eve with us.”
Beside Ty, Bea wriggled in her seat and then jumped up, grabbing Austin and making him stand up with her.
“It’s time for presents,” she said, her voice excited and high. “You promised presents, Dad!”
“One present is what I said,” he told her, looking down at her, his eyes dark and fond. “The rest in the morning. And besides, you already got your biggest present.”
Bea smiled up at Austin as he cupped the back of her small head, gently, letting the touch stay, the way a father would who loved his child.
“Let’s leave the dishes till morning,” said Bill, pulling on his down coat. “Then we can light the fire in the fire pit in the barn, drink rum and eggnog, and wait for midnight.”
“That’s when animals can talk,” Bea told Ty, her eyes serious.
“We’ll do the dishes now,” said Austin. “Or rather I’ll do them, so we don’t attract any mice. You all go on, but save me some eggnog.”
As Bea was tugging on Bill’s hand, urging him to go, the rest of them pulled on coats and scarves and, in a huddle, they stepped out of the dining hall and into the cold air. A wind was blowing and the air was thin, and as they walked along, Bill sniffed the air.
“The blizzard’s just about over,” he said.
“How do you know?” asked Ty through the muffle of his scarf.
“The wind,” said Bill, tilting his head back, pausing to look at the white, night-dark sky. “The wind is carrying it to the east. Which means we’ll have a white Christmas morning and nearly clear skies.”
They trudged through the snow and cold, through the darkness lit by the glow of the single light over the barn door, which came on as they neared the structure.
Once inside, Bea, without taking off her coat, raced to the box stall where Cinders was contentedly chewing on some hay. Clay went with her, taking her hand, getting her to slow down.
“Help me with this, young fellow,” said Bill. He took off his coat, hung it on a hook in the tack room, and crouched down next to the moon-and-stars decorated metal fire pit, and began arranging small sticks of wood amidst the dark gray ash.
“Sure,” said Ty, glad to be of use.
He helped build up the fire, then got the rum and eggnog from the small fridge in Leland’s office.
He poured out five glasses of eggnog and poured a little rum in four of the glasses, leaving a rum-less glass of eggnog for Bea.
Bill came into the office, took one look, and poured more rum into two of the glasses, taking one for himself and handing the other to Tye.
“Cheers,” he said. “Now let’s go sit by that fire.”
The fire was cheerfully flickering as Ty took a seat in one of the folding chairs.
With the glass of eggnog in his hand, he absorbed the gentle warmth, and felt his shoulders relax.
He didn’t have to drive anywhere tonight, nor the next day, and so could just let himself be, could let his troubles remain in the future, and did his best to pay them no attention.
Clay and Bea joined them around the little fire, and soon Austin came stomping into the barn, covered in streaks of snow, his cheeks red from the cold.
“Did you save any for me?” asked Austin as he took off his coat and looked into Leland’s office.
“There’s plenty,” said Clay. He hopped up from his folding chair, went to Austin, and kissed him on the mouth, letting the kiss linger.
Their fingers touched as Clay held the glass of eggnog and rum for Austin, and their eyes were closed, and the moment was soft. Bea jumped up and raced to them, throwing herself against both of them in a wide-armed hug.
In that stillness, while the flames in the fire pit flickered and danced, Ty felt Bill looking at him. And he felt a little foolish because of course these were Bea’s two papas, and they were gay and very much in love with each other.
He’d been a little blind not to see it right away, but then, as his life had been filled with more downs than ups since his dad died, it had become hard to see any beauty in the world.
But he could see some of it now, and there was, frankly, nothing more beautiful than the purity of the love he was seeing before him.