Merry and Bright

Chapter Thirteen

DEACON

I waited by the car as Winter retrieved a covered dish from the backseat. Was I ready to go inside and meet a whole group of people at once?

Yes. Yes, I was. I’d prepared myself for this. I knew what to expect.

Was I ready to be the one who went up the steps first on my own?

No. I would wait for Winter for that.

He could be the one to knock, the one to greet them first. He was braver than me in that regard.

He was braver than me in a lot of ways.

I was ready to do this, though. I was ready to step out of my comfort zone and be Winter’s date for the evening. I wanted that more than anything. More than my nerves could stop me.

Winter closed the car door and, with a bright smile, held out the dish. “Can you please carry this for me?”

I took it. “Of course.”

That way he could knock on the door . . .

I was almost certain he had the same thought as me.

We went up the steps, and before he could knock, Hamish opened the door. “Hello and welcome,” he said. “Please come in.”

Hamish was wearing a pink Christmas sweater that was . . . Perhaps garish was a strong word.

“Love the sweater,” Winter said.

Hamish laughed. “It was the most perfectly hideous one I could find.”

Well, I’m glad it wasn’t a stylistic choice.

“Hello,” I said.

“Deacon, I’m so glad you’re here,” Hamish said. He looked at the tray I was holding. “Bring this through to the kitchen.”

There were a lot of faces.

Ten in total, and they all stopped their conversations to watch us, which is the part I hated the most.

“Guys,” Hamish said. “This is Winter and Deacon. Pretty sure you’ve met everyone before,” he said to Winter.

Winter gave a nod. “Yes, I think so.”

I put the tray on the counter, trying to avoid outright introductions. I knew they all knew who I was and that they knew I was autistic. Everyone in town knew. I knew that they knew. In a lot of ways, it helped me that they knew, but in times like this, it felt like a neon sign above my head.

If I hadn’t met them directly, I still knew who they were. It’s what happened in small towns; everyone knew everyone.

Gunter from the youth clinic and Clay Henderson from the sawmill.

Jayden from the diner and Cass from the bed and breakfast. Braithe was the schoolteacher.

Deputy Price, though he looked different.

I couldn’t recall ever seeing him out of uniform.

Soren the fireman and Doctor Rob. And Ren from the hardware, of course.

They were all standing around or sitting on the sofa, and they all smiled and waved, and said a greeting of some sort.

“Win, Deacon,” Gunter said. “Can I get you guys a drink?”

“Ah, a soda or a water for me,” Winter said. “I’m driving.”

“No worries.” He pulled a can of soda from the fridge. “Deacon, would you like a drink? Soda? A beer? Glass of wine?”

Oh.

I liked that he offered me alcohol. Not that I had ever drank much of it before, and I had no intention of drinking it now, but I liked that he offered it. It made me feel . . . normal wasn’t the right word. Included, maybe? “Just a soda for me too, thank you.”

Conversations around the room had begun again, our arrival not the spotlight it was a moment ago, thankfully.

Gunter handed me the can of soda with a grin. “Been busy at the clinic?”

“Yes,” I answered. Small talk . . . ugh. I didn’t enjoy it and wasn’t particularly good at it. I tried to be more conversational. “The colder months aren’t usually any quieter for us; typically, it just means that the cases we see and treat are different than in the warmer months.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Gunter replied. “Come on over to the living room, and we can chat.”

Winter gave me an encouraging smile, so I went with him over to the couch.

There were two spots available on the three-seater, so I deduced they were for us.

Winter gave me the end seat so I wasn’t between him and Braithe, as he and Jayden were talking about the annual Christmas fun day at the school—it had always been my favorite week at elementary school.

Making all the fun Christmas crafts and a break from the typical lessons.

I never performed in the class plays, but I did enjoy painting the backdrops and props.

Jayden was talking about his and Cass’s kids practicing for their class plays, Braithe laughing along.

By the fire, Deputy Price was talking to Soren and Clay about felling trees from roads, from what I could ascertain, and on the other sofa, Rob and Gunter were quick to include Winter in their conversation about the bookstore.

And me?

I was very happy to sit and watch.

Happy to sit this close to Winter. Our hips and thighs were touching. It didn’t bother me so much, like it might have if it were someone else. But this was Winter, and this was a smallish sofa and seats were limited. It couldn’t be helped.

And it was Winter. I trusted him, and . . .

It felt nice. A comfort, even. In this new-to-me social situation with new-to-me friends, having Winter beside me was a security I’d tried to convince myself I didn’t need, but clearly I did.

Because I felt safer.

Until Chutney saw me. She trotted over, wearing a sweater matching Hamish’s, and I gave her a pat. “Hello there,” I said to her, and she then jumped up on my lap.

Winter turned, surprised at seeing her little pink sweater. “Oh my goodness, what?” He gave her a pat, smooshing her little face. “Is she not the cutest thing ever? Look at her sweater.” Then his eyes met mine, wide with excitement. “I need to get sweaters for the boys.”

“Good luck trying to get a sweater on Bright,” I said.

Winter laughed. “Good point. Okay, so maybe one sweater for Merry.”

“Oh, Chutney, hop down,” Hamish said from the kitchen.

“She’s fine,” I said.

“She soon picked you out in the crowd,” Ren said.

It was hard not to feel special. Animals always liked me, and even as a vet, that was a flex. My dad always said it was my energy. Animals felt safe with me.

Winter gave me the brightest smile. He was so close. Closer than I would normally allow, but it was different with him.

I was different with him.

Having him in my personal space wasn’t a bad thing.

The way it was with my parents. I was safe with him; I trusted him.

Much like how Chutney felt with me. My body felt at ease, not tense and alert.

There was no pressure building up, needing an outlet.

There was no panic brewing in my belly. Even in this new environment: a strange house surrounded by people I didn’t know well.

I smiled back at Winter, and Chutney plonked herself down and closed her eyes. Conversation around me resumed, and I sat there, listening. Not actively involved but included all the same.

Dinner was laid out on the kitchen counter, a serve-yourself affair.

I stood beside Winter and he was so happy.

I’d been nervous all day about the food situation.

My list of dislikes was long, but I’d mentally prepared myself for what to expect and told myself whatever was served was fine, and I should expect foods I wasn’t familiar with, especially if I intended to go on dinner dates with Winter.

And I wanted to do that.

There were some dishes I wouldn’t eat, but there was a selection of roast beef, potato au gratin, green beans.

Food my mom served often, and I stuck to those.

Most of the guys’ plates were piled heaps, but I noticed Winter tried a little of each, and he plated his carefully, creating little valleys between small hills of food. No food touching other food.

Like mine.

And I noticed Braithe’s plate was similar.

I wasn’t the only one, the odd one out.

The table was set beautifully. A Christmas centerpiece of gold and garland, gold candles, and each setting had a gold Christmas cracker.

“This is so perfect,” Winter said.

Jayden and Cass were first to pop their crackers, taking out the paper crown and putting them on their heads. It was probably a bit childish, but it was fun. Everyone laughed when they popped their crackers, they wore their crowns, they read out the lame jokes.

Winter took his cracker and held it for me to pull apart with him. It popped loudly, and then we did mine. We wore our paper crowns, read aloud our silly little jokes, and not for one second did I feel out of place or overwhelmed.

Ren stood up at the head of the table and raised his wine glass. “To friends, old and new. To the family we choose. Merry Christmas.”

Everyone raised their drinks and chorused, “Merry Christmas.”

I looked at Winter and he was smiling, but his eyes were glassy. Was he sad? Was he about to cry?

I was shocked to see it, but he let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “Happy,” he murmured. “Just really happy.”

Oh.

Okay then.

Everyone else began eating, though I noticed Gunter was watching Winter and me. His smile was warm, and the way Gunter looked at Winter reminded me a lot of the way my dad looked at me.

I liked Gunter, and I was glad he’d befriended Winter.

Eating dinner was pleasant. General conversation, happy and decidedly normal. Soren asked Winter about the kittens he’d helped rescue, and Winter’s whole face lit up as he talked about Merry and Bright.

“Deacon named them,” Winter said.

All eyes went to me—the attention wasn’t great, but Winter’s gentle smile told me it was okay. “It was written on the box he brought them into the clinic in,” I explained, sure my face was red. “Christmas decorations, I believe.”

“Perfect Christmas names,” Deputy Price said.

“Ah, I love it,” Hamish said. “We should totally get a second dog. A little brother or sister for Chutney to play with.”

“We have an adoption drive in the new year, late January,” I volunteered. “The end of the holiday season usually has a high surrender rate.”

Hamish made an excited buzzing noise and gave Ren a wide-eyed grin.

Ren deflated. “Awesome.”

Everyone laughed.