Chapter 8 Ben
Iwas pulling the ham out of the oven when my phone dinged with a text message from Ella.
I set the sizzling pan on the stovetop, shook off an oven mitt, and leaned over and picked up my phone. Roger that. Dinner is just about ready. I hope you’re hungry.
FAMISHED. Amended updated ETA: three minutes. These little rugrats will just have to cry it out.
I grinned and set the phone down. Thoughts of Ella’s visit kept me distracted for most of the afternoon.
I had a lot to do in preparation. Sure, I could have thrown in a couple of frozen pizzas and called it a night, but after all her talk of visiting with family and then opening presents with my parents via FaceTime this morning, I was more than a little homesick, so I decided to make a full-blown Christmas dinner with some of my favorite Hawaiian dishes.
I got to work plating them while I waited for her to arrive.
As promised, just a few minutes later, car lights splashed across the front windows. I went to the door to greet her. The outside lights were on, shining like a halo around Ella’s truck. She swung her door open and all but fell out of it.
Okay then.
She leaned into the back for the dogs. I expected them to zoom around my yard, but they dropped from the cab and stayed by her side. Maybe she didn’t want them running around in the dark. I swear I heard howling a few nights ago.
Together, they made their way toward the porch. The dogs dragged their paws. It looked like Ella was limping. Shit. They were exhausted. I should have expected this after all the holiday antics Ella described. Now I felt like a selfish asshole for asking her to come over.
I’d put a couple of towels on the front mat earlier for her to use on the dogs, and I leaned down and scooped them up before opening the door and stepping out onto the porch.
Ella mounted the stairs and flashed a wide grin. “Merry Christmas!” She looked ready to fall asleep standing, but her tone was so bright and cheerful that my regret eased a little. She sounded like she wanted to be here.
“Merry Christmas,” I said.
The dogs picked up their pace and loped toward me. I squatted down to greet them and then used their nearness to towel them off for her.
“Thanks for that,” she said.
“You’re welcome. You looked like you might be limping.”
She made an annoyed sound. “Oh, I’m limping. I pulled my hamstring snowshoeing after I left here the other day, spent yesterday building snowmen and drinking too much spiked egg nog, and then today running around and not eating or drinking enough, so really, I brought this on myself.”
I finished with the dogs and stood. “There’s aspirin and water inside. And food.”
Her expression filled with longing. “Food?”
“And beer.”
Now she looked like she might be drooling. “Beer?”
I laughed and let them in. Got to appreciate a woman with her priorities in order.
The dogs sniffed their way toward the sitting room, where I had a fire going and their makeshift beds already set up, a rawhide waiting for each of them. It worked out well the last time they stopped by, and if it ain’t broke…
Ella took off her winter jacket and boots to reveal a pair of black leggings and an oversized white cable-knit sweater that fell halfway to her knees, completely obscuring her athletic frame.
Her hat followed, and she ran her fingers through her hair and dragged her long locks up into a messy bun.
Small tendrils slipped free to frame her face.
She brushed them back on reflex. I had to fight a sudden urge to reach out and pull them free again.
“Long day?” I asked when I realized I was staring.
She met my gaze and nodded, smiling like she wouldn’t change a thing about it.
“Thank you for stopping by,” I said.
“Thank you for having me. Megan looked like she wanted to verbally punch us all in the face when she left Mom and Dad’s, so I’m more than happy to give her extra alone time.
And as much of an extrovert as I am, I’m beginning to understand why she needs it.
There were a lot of people at Christmas this year.
This’ll be a nice, quiet way to end the day. ”
I frowned. “Oh. I had an evening of death metal planned.”
She cocked her head sideways. “I didn’t know you were into Nickelback.”
I clutched my stomach and gagged.
She looked at me with an innocent expression, but I could see the threat of laughter in the twitch of her lips and the gleam of her eyes.
I shook my head. The woman was incorrigible. “Come on. Food is this way.”
I led her toward the kitchen, where I’d spread out a small buffet of caramelized ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, sliced pineapple, green bean amandine, sweet onions, cranberry sauce, poi, and for dessert, haupia – all of my favorite comfort foods.
Well, minus the laulau, which I couldn’t make because it turned out that taro leaves were hard to come by on short notice in Maine this time of year.
The grocery delivery service I used didn’t even know what they were when I called earlier.
“This is all I’ve ever wanted,” Ella said, elbowing past me to grab herself a plate and spoon a hefty amount of stuffing onto it.
“By all means, help yourself.”
Her head whipped up, an apology written across her face.
“I’m just teasing, Ella.”
“My bad,” she said. “I’m so tired that I can’t understand tone anymore.”
I joined her in the buffet line. “This is poi,” I said, pointing to the bowl filled with purple. “People tend to either love it or hate it. I made two-finger poi because consistency can sometimes be an issue, and added a little sugar to cut back on some of the earthiness.”
“Oh, I love poi.” She reached out and dropped a healthy dollop onto her plate. “I had it when we visited the islands when I was in high school. Is that haupia?” she asked, pointing with the serving spoon.
I was taken aback for a second. “Uh…yeah.”
“Yasss.” She pushed her potatoes aside to make enough room for two pieces of dessert.
If she ate all the food on her plate, I’d be hella impressed. It had grown to linebacker-sized proportions.
We sat down at the folding table I’d set up in the dining room and tucked into the feast, chewing in a companionable silence that was punctuated every now and then by her sounds of appreciation and compliments over the food.
She absolutely demolished her dinner. There wasn’t a scrap left when she was done.
“You’re going to have to roll me out of here,” she said, leaning back.
I pushed back in my own chair. “I’d have to stand to do that, though.”
I ate too much trying to keep up with her. I’d have to tell my ex-teammate, Shaun, that I’d met a woman who could probably out-eat him. Then again, maybe not. He might try to fly out here and challenge her, knowing his competitive streak.
She opened her mouth to say something, but her words were cut short by a loud, echoing burp in a deeper register than I thought she’d be capable of hitting.
She clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her next words. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Where did that even come from?”
I laughed at her. I couldn’t help it; the shocked look on her face was priceless.
She pulled her hand away and grinned at me, cheeks coloring.
“Surprise burps are the worst,” I said. I hoped she wasn’t that embarrassed. I had an ex-girlfriend break up with me once after she farted in front of me.
Ella’s gaze slid back to the buffet. “I think it made room for another piece of haupia.”
Right. She had a huge family. They probably still had burping competitions. Judging by the sound she just made, she probably won them.
I thought she was kidding about the haupia at first, but then she heaved herself out of her chair, plate in hand, and limped toward the kitchen. I stood and followed her, carrying my plate to the sink. No way did I have more room. I was a little scared of what might happen if I burped right now.
“Then again, maybe not,” she said, gazing down at the delicacy, hand on her stomach, expression wistful. Her eyes rose to mine. “Can I take some with me?”
“Absolutely,” I told her. “Take the rest. My present to you.”
“Thank you. Oh! That reminds me. I brought you a present.” She joined me at the sink and set her plate in it. “I left it in the truck. Be right back.”
She turned and made her way toward the front door, her limp visibly worsening with every step. I followed after her. Hamstring injuries could have a lengthy recovery process if you let them get away from you. I knew from experience.
“Do you want me to go grab it for you?” I asked.
She dropped the boot she was trying to lift onto her foot and looked at me with a mixture of pain and relief. “Yes. Thank you. It should be the long narrow package in the middle front seat.”
She dug her keys out of her jacket pocket and handed them over to me. I slipped on my boots, unlaced, and stepped out into the chill of the night.
The interior of her truck was riddled with the detritus of the day.
Bags full of Christmas presents were stacked floor to ceiling on the front passenger side.
With so many family members, it must take hours to unwrap together.
No wonder they all stayed over. If they had started opening any later than nine a.m., they’d still be at it.
I snagged the gift-wrapped rectangular present from the middle seat and headed back.
Narrow floor-to-ceiling windows framed the front door.
Ella stood outlined in the right one, the interior light shining from behind her, throwing her figure in shadow.
Her messy bun was bathed in a corona of red-gold.