Page 20 of Codename: Dustoff

CHAPTERTEN

The Christmas Tree lighting was one of my favorite events. Growing up, the resort hadn’t yet been built, so the tree lighting happened in town square. But when the resort came, the town agreed to move the lighting to their property. There was more room, which meant more people could enjoy it.

Most of the vendors weren’t able to get into town, so the Christmas village was not much to write home about, but despite the headaches the snow brought it sure did make it seem like Christmas everywhere. Gemini and Finn must have kissed and made up, since he was at her stall selling spiked cider and other holiday themed spirits, while Gemini sold an entire bakery’s worth of holiday treats. The pair presently had their heads tipped together, laughing in that conspiring way that broadcast a couple’s intimacy.

Finn even co-opted the town’s snowplow to make sure that the entire area around the Christmas tree was fully accessible, including straw to soak up any melting water, anti-skid rugs that the resort used in the summer around their pools, and salted walkways. All of that additional effort meant that Amelia could join in the festivities without worry. Watching her laugh and carry on with Gemini at their booth, made it evident she was doing just that.

She saw me looking at her and grabbed another cup before approaching.

“I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

She handed me the cup in her hand. A cautious sip told me it was a hot chocolate with Baileys in it. Based on the slight flush across the apples of her cheeks, and the loose smile, hers had Baileys in it as well. The kids’ choir finished up its rendition of “Santa Clause is Coming to Town,” which typically signaled the arrival of the big guy to come plug in the lights. Unfortunately, Elmer Akins from Mammoth Slope had been playing the resident Santa for the last few years, and he along with our Santa costume were stuck with him on the other side of the bridge.

“It’s really no big deal, Amelia. I just wanted to make sure that you had what you needed for the weekend.”

“I know.” She sighed, taking another sip of her cocoa. “I shouldn’t have acted that way. Big stores and snow scare me. I had a really bad fall right when I first had my leg amputated, real bad—and everyone stared and gaped but didn’t offer any help. It was just—” She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her forehead as if the act alone could banish the memory from her brain.

My arm—the one that was missing—must have received some kind of directive from my brain to offer some form of comfort to her. I realized too late that she saw the failed motion, and blushed. She placed her hand on my shoulder, the one that had just misfired.

“Even those of us who have seemingly gotten used to this life, have moments where our bodies forget.” I try to cover my embarrassment with soft laugh that feels artificial even to my ears.

Rather than comment on the misfire, she looked up and me and cupped my face, running her thumb along my cheekbone. The pink in her cheeks deepened to red, as realization lit her eyes that she’d touched me in a rather familiar way. The moment she pulled her fingertips from my face, I felt their loss. Where she’d transferred some of the warmth of her fingertips just a moment earlier, suddenly felt the icy chill of winter.

“Sorry,” she stuttered, hiding her discomfort behind I sip of hot chocolate, “I have no idea what possessed me to do that.”

Her sweet smile, the perfect magic that was the tree lighting, my general attraction to her—whatever it was I couldn’t resist the siren call of her lips a second longer. Already short one arm, I tossed my hot cocoa as close to the garbage can as I could in the heat of the moment and kissed her. Kiss is the most boring word for something that lights you up from the inside. Feeling her soft mouth against mine was like the excitement of New Year’s Eve and Fourth of July, combined with the comfort of celebrating a special occasion with your favorite people. I didn’t want it to end. A bunch of snickering kids pulled me out from my haze. I’d forgotten the choir had been in the midst of wrapping up their concert.

“If you take his leg and her arm, they make a full person,” some little freckled face boy said, as he pointed toward us and laughed.

“He’s a kid.” Amelia’s hands tensed on my bicep, obviously feeling me fixin’ to give him an ear boxing. “There’s no point. Just ignore him.”

“Listen you little shit,” I snapped, losing my cool faster than I thought I would. “She lost her leg fighting for your freedom. You’re all of what, eight? So you don’t understand much of that implication. But when your mama picks you up I’ll be damn sure to tell her how you disrespected a disabled veteran.”

He shouldn’t get a pass just because he was a little punk. Just then she kissed me, and all thoughts of him flew out of my mind. In all the years since the accident there were few times I’d actually been upset and wished for my arm back. When my pa was dying, and I wanted to hold him so he wouldn’t be scared. Last summer at the wedding when everyone was dancing slow and close and I sat at the bar watching and wishing, and right now. Despite Amelia’s curly hair being tucked up into the hat we’d bought her, and her arms doing the hugging, I wanted a second hand to feel and explore. To enjoy the little shocks of pleasure each fingertip felt caressing down her coat. To feel her soft skin, hold her jaw while I kissed the breath right out of her, and enjoy the tingle of her hair in my hands.

“So—is this tree thing something that always happens?” She giggled, running her fingertips across her lips.

“Actually, no. When we were kids, they had a lighting in town square. But this?” He pointed towards the tree and all of the decorations. “This didn’t start till the resort came into town. If the bridge hadn’t been out, you’d have met Santa, the reindeer, gone shopping in Christmas village, and I believe I heard they were going to have a Ferris wheel and horse drawn carriages this year. Growing up though, we didn’t have much of anything in these parts. It’s nice though. I like it. What about over in Haven’s Cove?”

“There is a big lighting in the town square. It’s cute, charming. It was something we looked forward to when we were kids, especially. It was the only Christmas tree we’d have.”

I guess she and I had more in common than I thought we did.

“There’s poor,” she explained, “and then there is hill poor. We were hill poor. With eight kids on a miner’s salary, we were lucky to each get a new sweater my mom knit, or some school supplies from the church Christmas collections.”

Suddenly our entire session with Harry yesterday made sense in the most crystalline way.

“Wow. I can’t believe Harry was right,” I told her, unable to stop the entertained chuff at Henry’s spot-on assessment. “Your abject horror at the suggestion you’d need any kind of help. It’s kind of interesting that you learned to reject even before your accident.”

“I wonder if my coping strategy isn’t actually reject, like Harry thinks.”

She almost looked relieved. That look, the rounded eyes and the downturned lips that morphed into the barest hint of a smile, made me sad. It told me that she thought having a rejection mentality meant there was something wrong with her. Not just that she hadn’t ever learned another way to deal.

Of course thinking about her sent the largest lightning bolt of realization up to my head as well. I always had been the one forced to adapt. Even as a kid and in the most basic of situations. I had no mom, it was just me and my pa. While he worked to make sure I had a roof and food and clothes, I needed to learn to roll with the punches. Sometimes we’d only eat white bread and hot dogs till payday. Other times I’d have to go without a new pair of shoes because something happened with the truck, or taxes, or reduction in hours at the rail yard. Rolling with the punches was the name of the game in Barren Hill.

“I think it’s just more amplified,” I tell her, realizing she’s waiting for a response from me. “Because when you were a kid you hated having to depend on other people’s kindness to have your needs met. It became a source of shame. So now you equate shame with needing help.”

“If I hadn’t seen you in action in your restaurant, I’d swear you were some kind of therapist. My care coordinator is gonna flip when I tell her this!”

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