“I don’t know how I’m going to eat lunch today,” Dahlia Black said as she glanced up from her book as her boyfriend Fletcher Harris entered the library. When she’d first moved in with him a little over six weeks ago the room had been an office, but they’d converted it to a library since they both loved reading. Now this cozy little room, with the fireplace, the big bookcases, and the overstuffed leather armchairs was her favorite.
Well this room and the bedroom they now shared.
Since she had cooked them a Christmas morning breakfast of pancakes, waffles, French toast, eggs, bacon, and sausage, Fletcher had insisted on doing all the cleaning, so she’d come in here to read.
“Might not have to worry about it,” Fletcher said as he added another log to the fire.
“Why not?” They were supposed to be heading to her parents’ house for Christmas lunch, and for the first time in eight years she was actually looking forward to it.
“Blizzard warning,” Fletcher replied. “If you want to go we better get dressed and get there quickly, and we better pack a bag because if we go we’ll probably get snowed in for a few days.”
As much as she’d been looking forward to celebrating with her big loud family, three over protective big brothers, their wives, kids, two equally protective older cousins, their wives, and her parents, plus Fletcher’s sister and her husband, and a few family friends, she didn’t want to be stuck there for a few days.
“I’d rather stay here with you,” she said, standing and crossing the room so she could wrap her arms around his wait and rest her head against his chest. Fletcher had been everything she had needed these last few weeks, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that without his love and support she wouldn’t be making the progress she was in dealing with her ptsd and survivor’s guilt.
Fletcher’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close, and she felt him touch a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.” Ironically it would be the first Christmas she wouldn’t have spent with at least some of her family. Even though she wouldn’t return to River’s End, her parents, and sometimes some of her siblings would fly over to San Diego to spent the holidays with her.
“I have one more gift,” he said.
“We exchanged gifts already.”
“But this one I was going to give you tonight.”
“Well you better show it to me now and not make me wait until tonight,” she said with a laugh, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder.
“Come on my impatient freckles.”
Fletcher took her hand but instead of leading her back to the huge Christmas tree in the open plan living area he led her to the back door and handed her her coat.
“We’re going outside?” Dahlia asked.
“To my shed,” he corrected, holding out her scarf as she shrugged into her coat.
“You made me something,” she squealed in delight, handmade gifts were her favourites.
Once they were both rugged up, he took her hand again and led her through the backyard to his wood working shed down the back. As soon as he opened the door and she stepped inside she saw what he had made her.
In the middle of the room stood the most gorgeous rocking horse. It was big enough that she could ride it even as an adult. The colors he’d chosen to paint it were some of her favourites, beautiful pastel pinks, purples, greens, and blues, and the mane and tail were soft, flowing white locks.
“Fletcher … its … gorgeous doesn’t seem like a good enough word.” Tears blurred her vision as she turned and threw herself into his arms, kissing him fervently.
“You helped me make it,” he told her.
“I did?”
“Yep. Remember when you first came to stay here and you helped me with a project, well this was it, I wanted to make you something special, and I know you like horses so I hoped you would like this.”
“I love it!” she said emphatically. “But, not more than I love the sexy man who made it for me. I think its a good thing we’re not going to my parents house today because I’m suddenly filled with the urge to go back to bed.”
“Oh you are, are you?” Fletcher laughed as he swung her up into his arms. I guess you want to ride the rocking horse later.”
“There’s something else I want to ride first,” she whispered in his ear before her lips found his. As she kissed him Dahlia knew that while hard days might still come, she was alive, she was in love, and she had a made who would do anything to make her happy.
This was definitely the best Christmas she’d ever had.