Holiday Cheer from Andrew Grey and Amy Lane

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

THE NEXT two weeks were magical. That was the only way I could describe it. At work, things were as they had always been—well, almost. Georg and I had lunch every day with his colleagues, and I got to know all of them. He stopped by my workspace each day and gave me an update, which was nearly always the same: everything was progressing on schedule. On Friday afternoon, a week or so before Christmas, I turned to watch the work on the mirror. The machine continued its work uninterrupted. Final polishing was in progress to get the specifications of the glass exactly right. With each movement, the mirror got closer and closer to completion, and it got closer and closer to the time when I’d have to go home. The mirror was expected to be completed just a few days after Christmas, and then it would be packed and readied for shipment. At that point, I’d be packing and getting ready to be shipped home as well. The thought unsettled me more and more each day.

I had sent my supervisor my daily update and tried my best to work on other things, but my mind wasn’t cooperating. Giving up, I called Julie and talked to her for a few minutes. “Make the most of what you have,” she said after I laid out how I was feeling.

“It isn’t fair.”

“No one said life was fair. You can’t stay there, you know that isn’t possible,” Julie said gently.

“I know,” I told her. “Things are the way they are. I don’t have to like it, though.” There was indeed nothing I could do except feel time slip by. “Before you go, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. In my living room, there is a small Tiffany blue box on the top of my bookshelf. Please pack it and ship it to me the fastest way you need to get it here.”

“FedEx?” she asked. “I should be able to arrange that here from work.”

“Perfect,” I said and gave her the address here at the office. “Just let me know how much it costs and I’ll pay you back.” I recognized the sound that came through the phone. She’d smack me if I tried to pay her back. But still….

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow and text you the info.” She spoke more quietly. “I need to go before the spawn of Satan I work for hears me.” She hung up, and I went back to work.

“Are you about done for the day?” Georg asked, standing in my doorway.

“I guess.” I wasn’t being productive and figured I might as well put what I was working on aside rather than screw it up and have to redo everything later. That would be just my luck.

“Good. I’m done for the day and I thought we might take a ride.” Georg grinned, and I began packing up. It was nearing five o’clock anyway, so it wasn’t like I was heading out early.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I followed Georg out of the building and down to his car. For the past few weeks I’d basically been staying with him. After a few days we figured out that both of us wanted to spend as much of our time together as possible, so I checked out of my hotel and Georg gave me one of the rooms in his house, though I’d never actually slept there yet.

“We have a tradition in my family, and I’ve kept it up because, well, it’s something I did with my grandfather… sort of.” We got in the car, but instead of going toward Munich, we headed away from the city. The landscape got more and more rural as we traveled.

“You really aren’t going to tell me, are you?” I asked. Georg just looked over in the darkening car and smiled.

“It’s a surprise.” That was all he would say. We continued traveling and ended up passing through a minuscule town and then turning off the road and up a rather long drive. A house loomed in the distance with a few lights shining in the windows. “This is my family’s estate. The main portion of the building is three hundred years old, and just like the house in town, we never threw anything out. The building is closed for the season. We move the antiques and art to controlled storage for the winter.”

“Then why are we here?”

A man stepped out of a building next to the main house as Georg pulled to a stop. They spoke in German, and the man did a lot of nodding. “This is Werner. He’s the caretaker. This is Duncan.”

“Everything is ready,” Werner said with a very heavy accent.

“Danke,” Georg said and raised the window. He parked the car and we got out. “We’re going to cut a Christmas tree. One section of the property is planted with pines, and every year we plant a few more so we will always be able to cut our own tree for the house. Once we cut it, Werner will deliver it for us tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Georg popped the trunk and pulled out a handsaw. “Grandfather and I used to do this every year. It made the holidays special. Sometimes we had Christmas here, but it isn’t practical any longer.” Georg pulled out a long, heavy coat and handed it to me. I took off the lighter one I was wearing and put on the warmer one. Then I followed Georg across the land, which he seemed to know well, toward a stand of darkened trees. He handed me a flashlight and carried one himself.

“Isn’t Werner coming?”

“No. This we always did ourselves. For the past few years I’ve done it alone.” Georg waited for me to catch up and took my hand. “I tagged one a few months ago, so all we need to do is find it.” He practically raced across the open land as the last of the light began to fade. We turned on the flashlights, and I wondered if it wouldn’t have been more prudent to cut the tree in the morning when we could see, but Georg was determined, so we trudged on.

The stand of trees loomed over us, and Georg led us inside, weaving around the silent sentinels, shining his light here and there until he found the one he was looking for. “Are you kidding?” I asked as I looked up. The tree had to be twelve feet tall. Thankfully it wasn’t particularly wide or we’d never get it in the house.

“No. This is perfect.” He shone the light inside and shook the branches. “To get out any animals that might have made a home in it.” Georg shook the tree again and then moved the lower branches to the side, and I heard sawing from under the tree.

I moved in near him, holding the tree and shining the flashlight inside to give Georg extra light. As he continued sawing, the vibration went up the tree and into my arm. It took a while, but the tree began to tilt. I let it move slightly and held it in place until the trunk gave way and the tree toppled onto its side. Georg stood up with a grin.

“What do we do now?”

“Haul it back up toward the caretaker’s cottage, and Hans will handle it from there.”

“I wasn’t aware I would be used for manual labor. What if I pull a muscle or something?”

Georg moved closer. “I’ll take good care of you.” His tone sent a thrill up my spine. For that I’d haul the tree all the way back to Munich. Instead, we each grabbed a bottom branch close to the trunk, dragged the tree out into the open, and then steadily made our way across to the caretaker’s cottage.

“Did your grandfather drag the tree?”

“He helped,” Georg said. “He was funny about some things. He didn’t believe we should have jobs like regular people, but he wasn’t against work—he just felt it needed to be dignified somehow. Oh, and visible. If he worked, then others were going to see it so that his work would set an example. Grandpa could be a bit of an egotist.” Georg chuckled.

We stopped halfway back to rest, and I couldn’t help looking up. The clean winter air combined with the darkness of the country meant that sky was peppered with stars, millions of them, shining everywhere. “I used to hope that Star Trek would turn real so I’d be able to visit other worlds.” I didn’t look away but felt Georg get closer, and then he wrapped his arm around my waist. “They’re out there, I know it. We’ve found rocky planets like our own that orbit in the Goldilocks zone, the band around a star that allows for liquid water. So I know there is someone else looking up at these same stars from a very different angle and wondering if they’re alone or if someone else is out there.”

“You’re not alone, Duncan,” Georg said from behind me.

“Yes, I am. Though I’m here with you and I’ve been with you for a few weeks, I only have a few weeks more and then the mirror is done. You’ll ship it and me home, and I’ll go back to the same life I had, boring and alone.” Where this maudlin attitude came from I didn’t know. What I said was true, but I didn’t want to talk about that now. I still had two weeks or so and I was determined to make the most of them. “I’m sorry. I promised myself I wasn’t going to bring that up. Things are what they are and neither of us can change them, only make the best of what we’re given.” I couldn’t help chuckling. “I sound like a cheesy greeting card.” I reached for a branch on the tree.

“I wish I could change things,” Georg said, and I was grateful that I had made enough of an impression on him to be missed. He picked up his portion of the tree and we continued forward. “I learned long ago that there were things you have to accept.” We continued walking a few more steps and then Georg dropped his branch. The tree fell from my hands as well. I turned to Georg, ready to ask him what happened. He cupped my cheeks in his warm hands and kissed me within an inch of my life. “I don’t want you to go either. If things were different, I’d figure out a way to let you stay, but it isn’t possible. You have skills that would be a huge benefit, but in the job climate here, it would take months for you to get a visa, and immigrating would be….”

I didn’t get a chance to respond because Georg kissed me hard, taking possession of my mouth. His heat formed a bubble around us, a bastion against the impending cold pushing from all sides.

“I wanted you to know that I felt just the same as you,” he said. “Sometimes it is hard opening up when you know the door is going to have to close again.”

It was the same for me, and as Georg lifted his head, I rested my head on his shoulder, holding him as he held me. “We can only make the most of what we have.” It seemed strange to feel this way after just a few short weeks, but the heart wants what it wants, and for the next little while at least, I was going to let mine free. I’d deal with the fallout when it came. “Let’s get this tree where it needs to go so we can get somewhere warm and preferably horizontal before I start….” The urge to press Georg onto the ground was becoming a little overwhelming and frostbite on sensitive parts was not a welcome idea.

Georg nodded, and we picked up the tree and started walking faster and faster. By the time we reached the caretaker’s residence, we were practically running and laughing our fool heads off. We set the tree where Werner indicated and said goodbye to him before getting back in Georg’s car. Georg drove back toward the city, both of us still smiling.

“I’ve never cut a tree in the dark before,” Georg said.

“Then why do it now? We could have come in the morning,” I offered.

“Werner can bring the tree in for me then but he couldn’t later in the day. Well, he probably would if I asked, but I know that he spends Saturday afternoons with his children. His wife has them most of the time, so I don’t want to interfere.”

I sat back and rode quietly, watching as the lights of the city increased and then surrounded the car. It was obvious that he wasn’t going right back to his house, and we ended up at a small restaurant where we ate a quiet dinner and then drove home. I used the word “home” in my head. The drafty old place, as Georg referred to it, felt more like home than the apartment in Boston ever had. It would be strange returning to my solitary residence.

Inside the house, Georg led the way right upstairs, and he proceeded to give me a recap of the starry night sky we’d shared in the countryside, only this time I didn’t even have to open my eyes.

I WOKE to a resounding knock reverberating through the house. Georg was out of bed in a flash, pulled on his pants, and bounded out of the room within seconds. I wondered what was going on, but the bed was warm and the floor was not, as I’d found out in the middle of the night when I got up to use the restroom. So I stayed where I was until Georg returned and joined me on the bed. “Hans brought the tree and we got it in the stand. It’s in the hall and ready to be decorated.”

“What time is it?” I groaned and pulled up the covers. It was cold out there.

“Just before eight.”

I groaned again. “Don’t the branches need time to warm up so they fall into place or something?”

“Yes, they do, but I’ll have breakfast done in a few minutes, and then we can get the ornaments and decorate the tree.” He paused and sat near me. “For the past few years I haven’t had a real reason to do this. I put up the tree because it was what I’d always done, but this year I have you to share it with.”

“Okay. I’ll get up.” I timidly stuck a foot outside the covers and then darted off the bed, pulling on a robe as fast as I could to keep the important parts from getting too shriveled. Georg laughed, and that sound alone was enough to warm me.

“Come on, go get dressed, and then we’ll have something to eat.”

I hurried to the bathroom and got cleaned up. Then I got dressed. I thought Georg must be downstairs, so I went to join him.

The entire house smelled of pine, the scent hitting me as soon as I opened the bedroom door. I walked down the hall and took the stairs. The tree had been placed in the main hall in front of the stairs so they wrapped partially around it. The tree came within a foot of the ceiling and filled much of the space. It was very impressive.

In the kitchen, I sat down at the table as Georg set out his usual breakfast of coffee, rolls, cheese, and some yogurt. I’d never been much of a breakfast person, so coffee and a buttered hard roll were enough for me. I cradled my warm mug in my hand, sipping my wake-up juice slowly. Georg was as excited as I’d ever seen him, and that was saying something. I had to admit, his energy was contagious. He ate fast and then hurried out of the room.

I swallowed the last of my roll and followed Georg, carrying my mug along with me. I found him in the hall, setting down a stack of plastic packing tubs. He hurried back up the stairs and returned a few minutes later with more. “Grandpa used to keep all this in boxes, but I switched to these a few years ago. It helps keep any dampness away.”

“Do you need help?” I looked at the carefully labeled tubs and realized I would have no idea what was in each one.

“I just have one more trip.” Georg hurried away, and I stepped back and let him have his fun. When he came back, he searched until he found the tub he wanted. “These are the lights. Grandfather used to use real candles, but I gave that up. It’s too dangerous, and the last thing I want is for the entire house to go up in flames. The candles are traditional, but I think it’s one practice we can afford to do without.”

I pulled out carefully wound strings of clear lights, and after checking each one, I helped Georg string them on the tree. There were dozens of them, and he wound each string just below the tips of the branches so only the lights would show. He went up and down the stairs, using it as a ladder to reach the top of the tree. I fed him lights, and he placed them.

Once we had them strung, Georg opened the first container of ornaments and began unwrapping them from the tissue. I gasped when he handed me a blue glass ball painted to look like the night sky. “Like I said: no one ever throws anything out. These were hand-painted over a hundred years ago. My great-grandmother was very talented, and at that time, painting was an acceptable pastime for a lady of her standing. So she did a lot of these and gave them to family and friends for gifts. Thankfully she kept some of her favorites for herself.”

“It’s amazing,” I whispered, cradling the irreplaceable object in my hands.

“Put it on the tree,” Georg said, and I carefully looped the string around the branch. I unwrapped others and put them on the branches, spreading them around the tree while Georg added wooden ornaments with the patina of decades of hands and play. Beeswax ornaments and delicate straw items came next. I was scared to handle some of them, but Georg added them to the tree. The last items were delicate cut paper pieces, yellow with age.

The last item Georg pulled from the tubs was a star—brilliant, gold-plated, and stunning as hell. It wasn’t one of those new things, plastic and lit, but antique and as beautiful as anything I had ever seen. I stood at the base of the tree and watched as Georg placed the star on the tree.

“It’s the most beautiful tree I can remember in real life.”

“We did it together.” Georg came down the stairs and swooped me into his arms. He was like a kid, and his enthusiasm was infectious.

“What did you have planned for today besides constructing this masterpiece?”

Georg covered my lips with his, carding his fingers through my hair, and kissed my breath away. I clung to him and wasn’t about to argue in any way, shape, or form. Somehow, he propelled us up the stairs and into his bedroom. We tumbled onto the bed, clothing hastily discarded and, skin to skin, we let our bodies do the talking while our lips were otherwise engaged. Small moans filled the room and grew louder and louder as our lovemaking grew in intensity. “Georg, please…,” I begged into his ear, and he licked down my chest and belly. My muscles fluttered in excitement as he took me deep, encasing me in the wettest heat known to man. I grasped the bedding and let Georg take me where he wanted us to go.

“I have you for a few short weeks, so I intend to make the very most of that time.” Georg’s hot breath ghosted over my wet skin, and then he slowly took me between his lips. I threw my head back, moaned wantonly, and began the climb to heaven. I was nearly there when Georg stopped. “I want you.”

“I need you.” That was the only coherent thought I could muster. Supplies were by the bed, and when Georg entered me, stealing the breath I’d just been able to catch, I floated once again, flying higher than before until the wave of ecstasy broke and we were there, together, just the two of us, for what seemed like an eternity.

I knew I would give anything to have that bliss go on and on, but that wasn’t possible, and when I came down to earth, I held Georg and wished for time to stop.