Do You Feel What I Feel. a Holiday Anthology Read online

  Three hours later, her house glistened like a Christmas ornament. As Carol looked around the living room, the absence of seasonal decoration hit her. She usually spent the holiday with family, so she didn’t own any herself. This year, they decided to go to Disneyworld together, and Carol had politely declined.

  Fuck! Where do I get a decent tree this late? A panicked phone call to Pamela didn’t help. After Carol had explained her predicament, Pamela had laughed so hard that her wife took control of the phone.

  “What’s going on with you, Carol?” Mary asked. “Every day Pamela comes home from work and tells me more bits and pieces of your love story. It’s like a soap opera.”

  “It’s not a love story! Not really.” Carol didn’t have the patience today to be her friends’ entertainment. “And don’t change the topic. I desperately need help. Where can I find a last minute tree and decorations?”

  Mary gave the location of a tree lot in her neighborhood and promised Carol some leftover decorations from her own tree. “And Saturday you can both come over for dinner if you want to. Just in case you’re not too occupied with each other.”

  Carol sighed. “Oh no, don’t you start again. We’re just friends, and I think we’d love to come over if Laura hasn’t planned anything else. I’ll let you know. And thank you. See you later.”

  After one look at the overflowing parking lot in front of the supermarket, she detoured to a local organic grocery store. She’d rather spend more money for better quality food, and the added benefit of fewer frantic shoppers was a bonus. When she finished there, she was happy to find that the tree lot was surprisingly well stocked. The seller reassured her that she wasn’t the only person to wait until Christmas Eve to buy a tree.

  Half an hour later, Pamela handed her the box of decorations with a wink.

  Carol rolled her eyes. “Please stop it, Pam. I’m nervous enough about tomorrow. This will be just a lovely few days with a good friend.”

  Pamela nodded. “I know, C. That’s what you both agreed on. But I still think you’d be happier in the long run if you told her how you feel. After reading most of the postcards and listening to your stories, I really believe she is feeling more than friendship as well.”

  Hope surged in Carol, closely followed and smothered by a familiar mixture of fear and insecurity. “How can you know what we feel for one another? I’m not even sure of my own feelings.” She turned to the car and busied herself with wedging the box on the backseat without disturbing the six-foot tree sticking out of the back of the car. “Okay, I think I might have developed a stupid crush since she started sending the postcards,” she admitted.

  Pamela opened the door of the other side of the car, felt her way around the tree, and pulled the box while Carol pushed. “Yes. I noticed. If you want my opinion, I think the advent calendar was more than an elaborate apology. And I’m convinced that both of you are way past a crush stage, but we’ll see. Whatever you decide to do, a least you’ve got your friend back.”

  After jamming the box into the open space, they ducked out of the car. Carol went to the back of the vehicle and tried to adjust the tree, even though it fit perfectly. “I’m afraid of risking our friendship,” she whispered.

  Pamela joined her and took Carol’s hands away from the tree. “After twelve years, I’m sure you couldn’t. Go home and don’t over think it. Have fun with your tree and our ornament collection.”

  Carol hugged Pamela. “Thank you.” She wasn’t talking about the decorations alone, and by the squeeze she got back, Pamela knew that.

  After the Christmas tree stood tall and proud in one corner of the living room, Carol opened the box. Several strands of lights were tangled together with various ornaments stuck in between. Nothing seemed to match and the whole mess looked as if someone had swept up the remnants on the day after Christmas and put the box out on the street. She might have neither experience nor her own traditions, but Carol liked to think she had better taste than that. The lights might be salvageable, but the rest of the decorations were a loss. She found a ball of a golden ribbon and contemplated adding simple bows. Then her gaze returned to the stack of postcards on her mantelpiece. She grinned. It might be a bit too much, but then again, it might work.

  Just as she’d attached the last piece of ribbon to a postcard and hung it in the tree, the doorbell rang. She hadn’t received the last postcard yet, so she rushed to the door without a second thought. Rather than the courier she expected, Laura stood on her porch. She’d arrived one day early. In shock, Carol almost slammed the door in her face.

  Laura slowly took in Carol’s old jeans, bare feet, and hair—which Carol could feel sticking out in every direction. Laura’s smile was as beautiful as it was genuine. “Surprised?”

  When Carol didn’t react, Laura’s smile faltered.

  “Not a good idea?” Laura asked.

  Carol shook her head and couldn’t help but smile back. “Surprised, yeah! What a great idea. Come in!”

  Carol stepped aside to let Laura enter, and the close proximity sent heat to her cheeks. To hide the obvious signs of her embarrassment, she hugged Laura and hid her head in her hair. This wasn’t helping the heat situation, but it felt right. By the way Laura was pressing her head onto Carol’s shoulder she must be feeling the same.

  The moments she spent in Laura’s arms made her forget her surroundings. A gust of wind reminded Carol of the open door. She struggled to regain her composure and tried to switch from hopeful would-be lover to friend. All she could manage was hostess mode. She showed Laura the bungalow, made small talk about the countless restorations she had done over the past few years, and finally showed Laura the guest room so she could freshen up. Even as she said it, she could hear her mother’s voice in her head. Freshen up? Who actually says that? Carol hastened to her own bedroom to shower and change. This superficial politeness was not the way it should feel between friends. She hoped cooking dinner together would help.

  “I love what you’ve done to the tree,” Laura said as she entered the kitchen. Her short hair—still damp from the shower—looked even darker than usual, and she had changed into comfortable clothes similar to what Carol was wearing. “What are we cooking?”

  Carol smiled at Laura’s choice of words. With a limited travel budget in their earlier years, they had become quite adept at cooking together in small and badly equipped kitchens in cheap hostels all over the world. “I expected you tomorrow, so nothing fancy, I’m afraid. Salad and homemade tomato soup sound okay?”

  Laura chuckled as she took the cutting board from Carol and helped herself to one of the knives from a large wooden block. “Perfect. I still crave fresh vegetables after a long flight. It must be the dry air or something.”

  The familiar routine of chopping and cooking relaxed them both, and by the end of it, they were chatting comfortably as they had always done.

  Carol opened one of the South African merlots they bought together, gave a healthy portion over the onions and garlic sizzling in her pot, and then added the thyme they had collected on a Greek island and the fresh chopped tomatoes she’d bought earlier that day. She showed the bottle to Laura. “You want a glass?”

  “Really? You trust me with that?” Laura grimaced.

  “Well, you had a whole bottle after running around in the heat all day in the vineyards. I bet today you don’t have heatstroke.” Carol poured them both a glass and took them to the comfortable breakfast nook. She wasn’t ready to leave the sanctuary of the warm kitchen, and the dining room seemed too formal for their small meal. And for their reunion.

  “Okay,” Laura said. “Just give me some water to go with it, and I promise not to puke on you again.”

  Carol laughed. “Deal.”

  Laura followed her with the salad bowl. “I really like your place. It’s cozy, feels like a real home.”

  Carol busied herself with seasoning th
e soup and dividing it into two bowls. “I had a lot of free time to work on it last summer.” As soon as she said it, she regretted mentioning it.

  Only a short pause of the sound of wooden spoons clicking against the salad bowl indicated that Laura heard her. Just as Carol wondered if she should press on or retreat from the topic of conversation, Laura stepped directly behind her and squeezed her shoulder.

  “Not now, okay?” Laura said softly. “I promise, we’ll talk.”

  Carol leaned back into her and nodded. She had missed their interaction, the easy way they read each other when they were close.

  After dinner, Laura took their glasses and stood up. “Can we sit next to the tree?”

  Carol followed her into the living room, started a fire, and lit several candles before plugging in the tree lights. The effect was very romantic, and she was suddenly reluctant. What kind of signal is this? Do we even need signals?

  Laura held out her hand and drew her down on the sofa next to her. She played with Carol’s fingers, obviously unwilling to let go as she stared at the tree. Finally, she started talking, her voice low. “I missed you this summer. That’s why I split up with Jenny. I constantly compared everything about her to you. We had some major arguments about it, but I finally realized that she couldn’t compete with you. None of them could, over the years.”

  As Carol started to answer, Laura squeezed her hand as if asking her to wait.

  Laura continued, “Retrospectively, I guess I just fell for her because I was jealous of your relationship. I’m sorry it didn’t work out, by the way.”

  “What relationship? With whom?” Carol was confused. She hadn’t been on a second date for years, let alone shared something remotely close to a relationship with another woman.

  Laura didn’t look at her. “You never told me her name. But when you wrote about looking for another job and if it was better to sell or rent your house, I put two and two together. You wouldn’t move for a fling.”

  Oh shit! That’s what went wrong. Carol felt the blood rush from her head and explode in her heart. She took a deep breath. Slowly, the shattered pieces realigned, and she noticed Laura’s hand trembling over hers. She turned her own and squeezed Laura’s firmly. “I’m an idiot. We’re both idiots.”

  That made Laura raise her head and meet Carol’s gaze directly, but she didn’t comment.

  Carol shook her head. “I wrote about all that because I was thinking about moving closer to you. And can you imagine my disappointment when you wrote to me about a new girlfriend, your soul mate?” Carol knew she sounded bitter.

  “Wait…you mean…” Laura visibly paled. “I had no idea. And I was too afraid to ask you directly about her. I didn’t want to stand in your way to happiness. But…” She frowned. “Why didn’t you just tell me what you wanted?”

  Now Carol couldn’t hold Laura’s gaze. “Because I was insecure. I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me near you when you didn’t react to my hints. I guess I was too cryptic, I’m sorry.” She tried to remove her hand, but Laura held fast.

  “Oh no, C. You’re right. I was an idiot. I turned away from you at the slightest sign of an obstacle rather than just talking to you. There was no one else for you, yet I ran out and found a rebound relationship. I’m sorry.”

  Carol shook her head. “We should stop apologizing. I went through an emotional rollercoaster last year. I’ll try to be clearer when communicating what I want and need, not only to others, but to myself as well.” She grimaced. “I’ve really done a bad job of that recently. I want you in my life, your friendship…no. You mean too much to me. And I’m grateful that you did all this to rekindle our connection.” Carol gestured with her free hand toward the tree decorated with the postcards. “I couldn’t even think of dating anyone else after Greece. Our last holiday was just too perfect, the weeks with you on the small boat made me long for more of it, but I guess I ruined it.” Her heart raced, and she had to look away so that Laura wouldn’t see the tears that filled her eyes.

  Laura intertwined their fingers and used her other hand to lift Carol’s chin. “You didn’t ruin it.” Her voice was soft and warm, like the light from the flickering candles. “Without the fear of losing you to someone else, I wouldn’t have realized how much was at stake.” She leaned forward slowly, giving Carol enough time to move away.

  Carol smiled and closed the distance herself. The kiss was as sweet as she remembered. The wine and tomato couldn’t mask Laura’s taste. Soft reassurance led to tender re-acquaintance and finally to passionate explorations.

  Gasping for breath, Carol stood up and tried to pull Laura with her, their hands still clasped firmly together. “Bedroom?”

  Laura just shook her head and pulled her back down. “I want to stay close to your tree.” She let go of Carol’s hand to unbutton her blouse. Her fingers trailed from Carol’s collarbone to the swell of her breasts. “We’ve made love on worse surfaces than your sofa.”

  Carol laughed. They really didn’t need a bed.

  Cold morning light filtered through the fog outside the window. The candles had burned down hours ago, and only a few glowing embers remained in the fireplace. But the warmth of the tree lights and the naked body snuggled against her own, chased off any lingering doubts Carol had about her feelings.

  Laura stirred and slowly opened her eyes; a content smile spread across her face.

  “Merry Christmas.” Carol traced the smile with her finger. “Do you want to unwrap your presents?”

  Laura laughed softly and ran her hands all over Carol. “Merry Christmas! And no. Everything I wanted is unwrapped already.”

  They kissed, and Carol pulled the quilt snug around them.

  “You know, this was not what I planned when I came here.” Laura sighed and rested her head on Carol’s shoulder. “After your e-mail on Thanksgiving when you mentioned that your mother was after you again for still being single, I had this idea of asking you out on a date and wooing you properly for weeks before we end up together…again…well, here on your sofa.”

  “Weeks?” Carol tried to turn so she could get a better look at Laura. “This would be difficult to do cross-country.”

  “Yeah, well, the conference I was talking about? There’s more to it.” Laura took a deep breath and continued very fast as if she was afraid of an interruption. “I’m meeting with an old friend from med school. He has offered me a partnership in his practice when I asked him about job opportunities here.” She looked up, her eyes shifting rapidly from left to right as she tried to hold Carol’s gaze at such a close distance. “Would you date me, to find out if we could have a real relationship? I think we can have more than a holiday romance.”

  Carol grinned. “No.”

  “No?” Laura’s voice was much higher than usual.

  “No. I won’t date you. I know enough about you. I’ve seen you happy and sad, hungry and pissed off. I’ve smelled you after a week of hiking and held you when you were ill. And I know how you take care of me when I’m at my worst. We’ve even puked on each other. What more do you think we can learn?”

  A radiant smile swept over Laura’s face as she listened to Carol. “I love you, you know.”

  Carol couldn’t stop herself from kissing Laura again. And again. And again. They had kissed a thousand times before, but now it felt unbelievably better. This was what she had hoped for last year, but even in her wildest dreams, she hadn’t imagined the surge of real happiness that flowed through her. “And I love you, too. Thanks for the best Christmas ever.”

  WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS

  by Lyn Thorne-Alder

  “Three days in a cabin in the woods. At Christmas time. With all of our parents. What could possibly go wrong?” Joan folded another sweater into their suitcase and set it on top of the set of rowan stakes.

  “Oh, come on. It won’t be that bad.” Elena tossed her cargo pa
nts on the pile and, after a moment of contemplation, added the soft velvet pants Joan had given her. “Your parents are mellow and kind; it’s only my dad and the stepmonster we have to worry about. And your mother seems to have a calming effect on everyone she encounters.”

  “You shouldn’t call her that, especially considering.” Joan checked her spare holdout pistol before she added it to a side pocket; the ammo went into another. “Your parents are perfectly nice and human.”

  “I don’t know.” Elena tossed her ugliest sweater atop the pants. “She might have fangs. The way she smiles,” she demonstrated with a wide, tight grimace, lips closed, “you’d never know.”

  “May I remind you…” Joan picked up Elena’s sweater and folded it, adding it to the side of the suitcase. “This was your idea. Don’t forget the flare gun and the lighters.”

  “Already packed.” Elena dumped her duffle bag on the bed. “Along with Tedwithle’s Compendium of Rare and Mythic Creatures, the bottled holy water, and that weird formula you whipped up for those banshees last month.”

  “Just in case we encounter a banshee in the Adirondacks?” Joan smirked affectionately at her wife.

  “Just in case it turns out that the stepmonster is a banshee. Look, I know it was my idea, but it was really Dad’s idea, okay? He’s been all moping about lately, and he wants to have Christmas as a family.”