Page 102 of The Twelve Months of Christmas
Dylan had been warming to her and was only trying to make her feel like one of the gang, she decided. Boys were famous for doing goofy and socially inept things to get a girl’s attention. The same method probably applied to making points with stepmoms who were doing their best.
“You’ve been a damn good sport,” Travis continued. “I hope you’ve been having some fun.”
“I have,” she said. The state park was a lovely one, Banks Lake providing a blue oasis in the middle of the summer barrenness of rock and desert, and although she’d have preferred to shower in an en suite bathroom, taking advantage of a rainforest showerhead, she really couldn’t complain about the facilities. “Tomorrow I intend to catch a fish. But you’re cleaning it,” she added. The very thought of cleaning a fish made her stomach queasy.
“You catch it, I’ll clean it,” he promised, and opened the tent flap for her.
She ducked under it. “Home sweet home.”
“Any place you are is sweet,” he said.
“You’re only saying that ’cause it’s true,” she joked.
“You know it. Are you having fun? Really?”
“I am,” she said.For the most part. Sort of.
“You scored points with Mom.”
She smiled. “That I did. For a minute there I thought she was going to rush over and lay a Gene Juarez gift card at my feet.”
He chuckled. “If that’s what you want, I will. Come here, you.”
Of course, she came.
Much later, it was time to crawl into the sleeping bag. Ready for a night of blissful dreams, she pulled it open. That was when the bliss ended.
“Snake!” Sunny gasped, falling back and crab-walking as far away from the thing as she could.
Fast as she was going, her heart was racing even faster. She was going to have a heart attack right there in the tent. All she could think was snakebite. Dylan’s words rang in her head.Remember that movie, Dad, where the girl got bit by the snake and almost died?
Travis jumped between her and the snake, shining his flashlight on the reptile. “What the...?” Then he swore. “It’s okay, babe.”
“Don’t touch it,” she cried as he reached to pick it up. It would bite him. He’d make her a widow before he even got to see his baby.
“It won’t bite.” He held up the thing and it hung there like...
“A rubber snake,” she said in disgust. “Boy, Dylan got me good.”
“Dylan’s going to get it good,” Travis growled.
“He was just joking around,” she said, defending the boy. “Kids go overboard.”
Travis shook his head. “He can’t be doing stuff like this anymore. He about scared the shit out of you. That can’t be good for the baby.”
“I’m barely pregnant. I’m sure the worst that will happen to the baby is that she’ll grow up to hate snakes.”
She. Listen to her, betraying her secret hope that they’d have a girl. A wicked stepdaughter replacement.
“I’m having a talk with him tomorrow, anyway,” Travis said.
True to his word, Travis escorted his son from the kid tent to theirs first thing the next morning to apologize to Sunny. Even as they approached, she could hear Dylan protesting, “But I didn’t do it, Dad.”
The flap flew open and father and son entered, son’s face red with humiliation and father’s red with anger. The tent lost its cozy feeling and turned claustrophobic.
“I didn’t do it, Sunny,” Dylan said, and dashed away a tear sneaking out of one eye. “Honest.”
“Oh, come on, give it up, Dylan,” Travis growled. “You were priming her all day.”
