Chapter Fourteen
It had been many a year since I’d been woken with kisses.
The odd thing about these kisses was that they were exceptionally wet and the kisser had liver breath.
Rolling my head side-to-side did little to dissuade the kisser.
She remained standing on my chest, four little feet on my pectorals as her tongue slipped into my ear.
With a yelp, I threw my arms over my face.
Anders, the toasty warm hunk next to me, flopped to the side with a grunt.
He tumbled from the bed to the floor with a Scandinavian curse, stripping the coverlet from me as he went.
Della leaped down to chew on his ear or whatever she was doing that was making the man squeal and cuss simultaneously.
“Is this the normal wake-up routine for you two?” I asked while moving to the edge of the bed to gaze down at Anders lying on the floor with the duvet wrapped around him and Della sitting on his chest, wagging her tail joyfully.
“Not usually,” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “I think she is just showing off for you. This is the first time we have had an overnight guest.”
I was ridiculously happy to hear that this camper was not a rolling sex van. “Well, I’m honored to be the first.”
He gave me a steamy look that made my dick twitch. Della yipped. “Yes, right, I hear you. Let me walk her around the camper to piddle then we can roll back into bed.”
I nodded but slapped around on the counter for my phone.
“Oh, it’s eight-thirty already. I have to pick up Gilda for church at ten.
We’d probably skip it, but it’ll be a longer service today as Christmas is this Friday.
Pastor Pete will do a shorter one on Christmas Eve and on the Sunday after. He’s pretty flexible.”
“Oh well, then we should get some breakfast so you can be there to pick her up on time,” he replied, slowly sitting up so as not to send Della tumbling. The dog jumped to the floor anyway and began going in happy circles.
“You could come with us,” I offered while checking for any texts from Gilda.
Nary a one. Which was not unusual. She was with her friends.
Dear old Dad was the last thing on her mind, but I did send her a good morning note on Messenger to remind her to be ready at ten.
“We’re not super religious, but Katie had always wanted Gilda to know what a good religion was, and she found that with Pastor Pete.
This way she can make up her own mind about faith, God, and whether she buys into it or not.
” I glanced up from my phone as I rested on my elbow.
He looked pensive. “Seriously, you do not have to come. We usually just do the big days.”
“I’m not sure I would enjoy it. I have bad experiences with bigotry in the church.”
“I get that. This church is super accepting. The pastor and his partner Nigel are both queer, so there is no hate preached. Only love, acceptance, and the good things that Christ preached.”
“Ah, that sounds nice. I’ve not been to Mass for years. Perhaps I will go with you if you don’t think it will set tongues wagging?”
Della began sniffing at the door. “No, well, yeah, it will, but I suspect tongues are already wagging. Franny has called me out on my long lunches.” Anders gave a short chortle as he pushed to his feet. “And I might have told Gilda that we were special friends.”
“That’s lovely, truly. I’m fine with Gilda knowing and the people of Grouse Falls seeing us together. I’m done hiding who I am and who I care about from the world.” He slipped his feet into his fuzzy sheepskin-lined boots and snapped the leash onto Della’s collar.
“Good on you. I’ll let Gilda know you’ll be with us. Afterward, we can spend some time in the basement of the church perusing the crafts and baked goods on sale for the Christmas Bazaar a day early. Oh! And there’s a sledding event with hot cocoa behind the church that we can do if you’d like?”
His smile lit up the camper. “Sledding! Yes, I would like that a great deal. It’s been so long since I rode a sled downhill. Thank you for inviting me, Mitchell. And for being such a good man.”
He opened the door before I could reply.
A gust of cold air blew in, chilling me through the sheet, and out into the winter morning he went with his min pin.
There I sat, staring at them as the door slammed shut, feeling all kinds of weird about what I had just set into motion.
Showing up at Sunday services, Christmas service at that, was sure to start the gossipers gossiping.
The Woolverines would be agog. Still, even knowing that would happen, I was okay with it.
I just had to check with Gilda to be sure she was cool with Anders coming with us and what that might say to the townsfolk.
My phone buzzed just as Della started barking at something outside. Anders was saying something, but what it was, I couldn’t make out. The notification was from Gilda. Just a thumbs up. So she was up. Good. I sent her a smiley face and added that Anders would be joining us.
YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!—G
Okay, that was a pretty solid reply in the positive. A reply that made me happy as a bird with a French fry and that was darn happy.
Are you two boyfriends yet? You can tell me.—G
I rolled my eyes at my nosy child.
We’re friends. Close friends. Go shower!—M
She replied with a line of winking emojis. I fell back into bed, phone resting on my chest, and snickered at the sound of a man loudly encouraging his dog to hurry up and poop.
***
“Okay, I’m possibly reconsidering this whole thing.”
My sledding buddies both started cheering me on as I eyeballed the steep as hell hill that the entire congregation, plus most of the citizens of Grouse Falls, were racing down.
“Dad, seriously, this is not that big of a hill,” Gilda said, hair windblown, cheeks red from the cold, her nose running slightly.
“This hill is called Satan’s Mountain of Death,” I told Anders, who seemed to be enjoying my reticence to sled just a bit too much.
We were both ignoring Alfred and Arne in thick black coats standing down by the peanut vendor.
They were sipping cocoa and were not going to ruin this day Anders had whispered to me when they’d filed in to sit in the back pew an hour ago.
For a man who had been reluctant to attend services, Anders was now having the time of his life.
Pastor Pete and Nigel had welcomed him into the tabernacle with open arms. Pete hugged Anders several times with the warmest of thanks for his generous donations over the past few weeks.
When we were freed to find a pew, Anders confessed he had started sending donations to the outerwear drive as well as the newly formed Teen LGBTQ Fellowship Group that was slated to begin in January.
Gilda had already signed up to be one of the leaders of the social group.
That was news to me. Was that her way of saying she was queer?
I desperately wanted to ask but didn’t as it was up to her to tell me in her own time and way if she was or was not under the rainbow flag like her father.
“No, Anders, it isn’t. It’s Bateman Hill,” Gilda hurried to correct me and then waved at her friend Kimmie as she bounded up to join us.
“Batman Hill because you need a superhero to ride down with you to ensure you don’t die,” I mumbled into the scarf wrapped around the bottom half of my face. Anders howled with glee.
“Okay, why don’t we double up and ride down?
” His offer sounded feasible. We did have a big enough sled that we’d rented from the Ladies Church Auxiliary for five dollars.
They were selling hot chocolate at the bottom of the mountain of death for two dollars and roasted peanuts for four bucks a bag.
After the bazaar cash that Anders had dropped, they should be well set for the year.
He’d been so thrilled to see his decorated eggs on sale among Franny’s crafts that he went on a spending spree that had netted him bags and bags of baked goods, doilies, crocheted critters, holiday door hangers, and a huge polar bear that he gave to Gilda.
I had to pull him out of the basement to ensure there were things left for the next four days of the sale.
“Come on, Dad. It’ll be spring soon,” Gilda teased.
“See, the thing is that if I ride down then I have to walk back up,” I explained just as a family of four went flying past. I poked at my little dad tummy hidden under two sweaters and a coat. “I’m not sure I can make a second trip. Too many cookies over the years.”
“You lie on the sled and I will pull you up,” Anders offered before waving at Nigel and Pete trudging back up the snowy hill. “I’ll be your Saint Bernard.”
“Will you have brandy around your neck?” I asked and got a wink from my super-close friend.
“No, but I will have a kiss when we reach the top,” he answered, which made the girls giggle. My face grew warm under my scarf.
“Well, if there’s a kiss for each ride, then okay.” I gave his hand a quick squeeze. The two girls hooted.
“Come sit between my legs.” Anders placed our plastic toboggan on the snow, sat his tasty ass on it, and patted the space between his thighs. I glanced around nervously to see if anyone was giving us dirty looks, but everyone was enjoying the sledding.
“Don’t get fresh,” I playfully warned, maneuvering myself over the long black sled and dropping down to rest between his legs.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be steering us,” he said just as my daughter shouted something and shoved Anders and me over the crest of the hill. With a shout of pure terror, I grabbed Anders’ knees as we sped down the hill ala Clark Griswald in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.