Page 42 of Cascade

“Ooooh, yes please,” I say, melting into the sheets as he works his strong hands along my muscles. I feel the tension melting away and I drift off to sleep as soundly as I had in those first days when I was mindlessly screwing him all over town. Whatever release I once found in just blindly demanding a passionate need, I now am getting through this intimate silence. This togetherness.

“Time to go, babe,” Archer kisses my shoulder and offers me a cup of coffee in bed. I squint to try and see the clock, but I can’t.

“What time is it?”

“It’s like 7, but you said you wanted to get back to the hospital and I have this logistics meeting with the Acorns about being the Claus.”

I take the coffee in bed and blow on the hot liquid, relishing the feel of the warm mug in my hand. Is this really my life now? Of him bringing me coffee in bed, seemingly happily? “I can’t believe I just slept with Santa,” I joke, braving a sip of the hot coffee and moaning as the flavor and caffeine warm all of my cells into full awareness.

“Opal, god. It’s the Oak CreekClaus,”he says, stripping out of his gray sweatpants and sliding his slim hips into a pair of dark jeans. “I’m a little late, and Ed’s going to flip out if I don’t get my ass in gear.” He tugs on a green sweater and my eyes linger on the strip of belly skin until he adjusts and yanks it down. “Call me with an Abigail update and then we’ll go pick out a tree for Oscar to destroy.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Archer

I REALLY DO get a thrill from this Claus business. There’s something really magical about being the hero to every kid in town. It’s meant that Christmas Eve is kind of a blurry whirlwind the past few years, but I always make it to my parents’ house in time for competitive card games.

This year feels different, though. I feel distracted throughout the logistics meeting, as the retired engineering professors all map out best practices for order of operations and print out a route sheet for me.

Opal keeps texting me updates on Abigail, who is going out of her mind with boredom a month in to hospital bedrest.Blood pressure seems stable today,Opal texts.Getting magnesium drip just in case. Prevents seizures.

Seizures is a scary word. Has to be, right? I start to regret agreeing to perform this task again this year, but Levon claps a hand on my back when he catches me staring at my phone. “Good deeds make a good distraction when things are hard,” he says. He squints to read Opal’s text. “You know, Mary Pat had pre-e with one of our boys. She came through in the end. Hunter’s family is in good, safe hands.” I feel a lump in my throat.

I’m grateful when Levon declares that Operation Oak Creek Claus is a well-oiled machine. He snatches the route list from the printer for me, grabs the garment bag with the costume in it, and shoves me out the door back toward home. I’m sure that he’s right about the distraction. Once I slip into the costume, I know I’ll be focused on the task at hand, trusting that the rest of my family will figure out everything else. They’re good at that.

I enter through the side door and toss my garment bag on the table, ready to take Opal out to chop down a last-minute Christmas tree for the living room. I grin, thinking of all the ways the cat will drag needles and sap through my house. Watch, he’s the kind of cat who will just sit under the lights and groom himself. Either way, I know Oscar will like to see a little festivity around here.

I look into the living room and all those thoughts go out the window when I see Opal sobbing on the floor, cradling Oscar on her lap. “Shit,” I mutter, hurrying over to them. “What happened, Precious?”

The cat vomits and meows, like he’s in pain. Not good. “Does he have a virus or did he maybe eat something?” I squat down on the floor next to them and try to pet Oscar, but he groans. I didn’t know a cat could groan, but this one just did. It pulls at my heart strings to see this feisty guy so down.

Opal points at the paperwhite we had brought from Abigail’s shower. Oscar must have tipped it over and dragged it around before nibbling on the stem. I pull my phone out of my pocket and look up whether these flowers can make a cat sick. “Oh shit, baby,” I say, looking at the flashing warnings all over the Internet. “Paperwhites are really poisonous for cats. Like really bad. We gotta get him to the vet, sweetheart.”

Opal starts rocking and muttering. “No, no, no, no, no.” She sobs a little and just lets the tears roll down her face. “This can’t be happening.”

“I’ll get his carrier, ok, and one of his toys.”

“No, you don’t understand,” she says. “Abigail’s water broke. I just came home to change so I can go be with her until the baby comes. I don’t know what to do!”

I chew on the inside of my lip for a minute, drag my hand through my hair. I have about three hours before I need to suit up to start my early Claus rounds. Surely that’s enough time to get the cat to Aneke and get her started with…whatever helps a poisoned cat. I remember that it’s Christmas Eve and I’ll need to call Aneke and figure out what sort of emergency vet is open. Opal and Oscar are both crying, and it makes it hard for me to think straight. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” I say, tugging her so she stands up. “I’m going to take the cat to the vet, you’re going to go to the hospital and—“

The back door to my house opens and my brother Fletcher cuts me off mid-sentence. “What in good god is going on with this family?” He bursts into the kitchen and looks at me, Opal, and the crying cat. “Seriously, where is everyone? Who is this?”

“Fletcher! Yes. Fletcher can help.” I rush over to my brother, who is hauling two duffel bags and shivering in a light sweatshirt. “What, did you just get here from the airport?”

“Nobody was there to get me,” he yells. “Nobody is answering their phone!”

“Opal,” I turn back to her. She’s standing in the kitchen blinking away tears, not sure what to do with herself. “Babe, go get your bag and head to the hospital. Between me and Fletcher we will take care of the cat.”

“But what about your Santa stuff?” She hugs her arms around her waist and shifts her weight from foot to foot, nervously. “I couldn’t handle it if I knew you let down all those children. I don’t even know how far you have to go to get to an emergency vet and—“

“Fletcher will be the Claus,” I say, the idea forming as it falls out of my mouth in real time. “I know I make a lot of questionable decisions,” I say to him, “but this is an emergency, bro. You gotta step up and be the Oak Creek Claus so I can take care of Oscar so Opal can go catch Hunter’s baby.”

Fletcher sinks into a chair at the table and starts tugging on his artfully tousled hair. “You’re going to need to back up a minute,” he squints at me. “Are you high?”

But Opal seems satisfied with this plan, enough so that she starts gathering the things she will need to meet my family back at the hospital. “They’re going to start a Pitocin drip if I don’t get there soon, and I know Abigail wanted the opportunity to labor naturally…” she rummages around for different lotions and a sack of tennis balls, and I decide that she’s all set enough that I can fill Fletcher in on the past month of family emergency.

“Nobody seriously told you, man? Abigail’s been in the hospital since Thanksgiving.”

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