Page 31 of Christmas Secrets

“Ye promise?”

“Aye, Ben,” she replied with an unusual meek attitude.

“Then tell me what’s up with ye and cooking?”

She stared at him.

“I mean it. No more hiding yer feelings, Dottie. I’m not a mind reader, ye need to tell me what’s going on. And if ye refuse, I will get my belt and ye won’t like that at all.”

She sighed and finally nodded her head. “I let things get out of hand, Ben. I resented ye fer talking me into taking lessons when I had told ye plainly not to depend on me fer cooking. It felt like ye ignored that and went right on with what ye wanted me to do. Nay, expected me to do. And I tried because I love ye too, and I wanted to please ye. But by doing so I was compromising what I had already told ye.” She glared at him then. “Admit it, ye wanted me to suddenly turn into a cook...to enjoy cooking like all the other women...and I was never going to be that woman. So, I did things I shouldn’t have, like ruining dishes on purpose so ye and everyone else would get the message. I didn’t mean to; it just became a habit and then I was stuck in a situation I resented.”

“I see,” Ben replied as everything suddenly fell into place. Something he had already been wondering about if he was honest with himself. Part of the blame lay at his feet.

Dottie shifted uncomfortably. “The only problem was, once I had everyone trained to think I was useless as a cook, I suddenly felt left out at the meeting. All hands were needed and I was ignored and shifted into the useless category by mutual unspoken consent. It felt terrible and I hated it. I’m not used to not excelling. So, my mouth ran away with me and the whole nightmare began,” she finished miserably. “I’m sorry, Ben.”

He gathered her in his arms and hugged her. “I’m sorry too, honey. This is partly my fault. I should spank ye fer sabotaging the food instead of just telling me, but I can’t bring myself to do it when I’m to blame as well. Plus, I don’t want ye to be bruised, yer little bottom is already deep red, yer thumbs are raw, and I think ye have suffered enough. After the holidays, we’ll sit down and figure this out together, I promise. Right now, I want to make love to my little wife,” he said hoarsely, standing up with her. He untied the one ribbon on the front of the negligee and let if fall off her shoulders, then turned her toward the bed.

Dottie scrambled into the bed, her roasted little bottom sticking up like Rudolph’s red nose. It put him firmly into the Christmas spirit. “Ho...ho...ho, here I come,” he faux caroled and slid in next to her.

“Hiya, Santa, I hope ye have a present fer me,” she giggled.

“One we’ll both enjoy,” he assured her.

And then there was no more talking.

His Dottie slept like an angel that night.

***

The Christmas partyat Neamh started at 2:00 p.m. and Dottie was very nervous. It was time to face the music, pay the piper, whatever you wanted to call it. Her deception with the Clootie Dumplings was now known among close family members. They would all be staring at her, disapproving of her, and whispering behind their hands when she came into the house.

She was sure of it.She was going to be mortified and humiliated, but she had it coming and had to endure it. The time of reckoning was upon her.

Ben had tried to reassure her that only a few knew, and they had already guessed that something was up with the lasagna. Her diligence in creating her illusion of a horrible cook had seen to that. Like his dad and Darro.

Dottie loved her father-in-law, but he could be a right pain at times. His garrulous ways generally kept everyone laughing except she didn’t want to be the butt, pardon the expression, of any of his joking comments. She was embarrassed enough as it was. She couldn’t help but lift her thumb to her lips once more. The one that didn’t have a broken skin sore on it that is.

Ben grabbed her hand and forced it into her lap. “Stop that right now, Dottie,” he scolded.

“I can’t help it,” she wailed, settling for just shaking her hands as Ben pulled the truck into Neamh and found a parking spot behind the barn. The front area was full of SUVs and trucks of people who had come to the party. Family and close friends only, but that was still quite a number of people.

“Put yer gloves on then,” he instructed as he turned the truck off. “Those flesh-colored ones I bought fer ye to wear. At least there’s a layer of cloth between yer thumbs and yer teeth.”

She glared at him. “I can’t wear those inside the house, people will think I’m weird.”

Ben shot her a stony glare, his eyes gleaming with a new steel she was beginning to worry about. “Ye will wear them, or ye will be sporting a red-hot bottom before we even get inside. And I’ll make sure to take ye into a bedroom every now and then and keep those wee globes nice and red,” he growled.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Dottie obeyed him and put the gloves on. They came up underneath the sleeves of her red Christmas sweater and they weren’t quite as awful as she thought they would be. Maybe she’d get lucky and everyone would be so focused on her horrible faux pas of the food variety that no one would notice. Worst case, she could always keep her hands in her jean’s pockets.

Since they had parked behind the barn, they walked around and entered through the back door. As they came into the festive kitchen, the party appeared to be in full swing. Christmas carols were playing in the background and the smells were heavenly.

Dottie’s stomach rumbled as she sniffed the air. Two huge roast turkeys with all the trimmings were sitting on the kitchen cabinet and Darro was slicing bits off of them with an electric knife. He placed the slices on two big platters while Lucerne chattered regarding the stuffing inside the birds.

Poppy was just taking pans of yeasty hot rolls out of the oven to go with dinner, her face flushed and her eyes bright. Even the Christmas biscuit jar was overflowing, its lid sitting on the cabinet beside it.

The bench style kitchen table was loaded with desserts of every kind, including her Clootie Dumplings. She recognized the dyed red string on the bags. Then she noticed there was another tray of Clootie Dumplings and again she wondered if they were Bens. Someone had made traditional Christmas pudding, and there were Christmas biscuits, huge iced cupcakes of all flavors, Christmas crackers, and many other special treats and snacks.

Poppy looked over at her and Ben and smiled. “Hello, you two, you’re just in time. Dinner is in 15 minutes. Everyone else is in the living room and dining room area.” She winked at Ben and smiled.

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