An Enchanted Season Part 28

Considering how her areolas had puckered, she couldn't blame him. Chuckling, she finished removing her undergarments and stepped carefully into the tub with him. The heat from the water was heavenly. Kneeling carefully, she scrubbed his abdomen with the sponge, then sat back and worked on his legs, taking her time to refamiliarize herself with every inch of his skin she could reach.

Her fiance had a decent body; working in the dairy had kept him reasonably fit, and there was just enough hair on his chest and legs to say he was a man, but not enough to suggest he was a beast. Some women liked their men to be downright furry; Rachel just wanted a little bit of curl on her man's chest, and not much elsewhere. The texture of Steve's spa.r.s.ely dusted skin was just the way she liked a man to feel: warm and silky in some spots, warm and crinkly coa.r.s.e in others. Perfect.

Leaning forward, she made him sit up, then wrapped her arms around him, kissing him somewhat awkwardly while she scrubbed at his back. Getting him to stand, she scrubbed the parts the water had covered, then urged him back down again, rinsing and using the sponge to trickle water over his body. Midway through her task, he stole the brown sponge from her.

Against her protests, he lathered it up again and scrubbed her in turn from neck to toes, shushing her mouth with kisses. Catching on to his silencing scheme, Rachel mumbled a few more protests, making him kiss her again. The water had turned too murky to rinse with, but she had antic.i.p.ated that. Standing, Rachel urged Steve to his feet, and with his help, lifted the final milk bucket over both their heads. It was still full of hot, clean water. Steve helped her pour it over both of them for a rinse while the tub drained at their feet.

Steve laughed when the last of the water was done dripping out of the can. "We still have soap on our bodies. I think we'll need to risk a brief shower."

Rachel nodded. It was now late; if any of the other guests had taken a shower, there might not be much hot water left, but it also shouldn't be a strain on the generator to siphon some from the tanks. Letting him pull the curtain into place, she turned and worked with the faucet, waiting until warm water spilled forth. The position left her bent over at the waist. She didn't know why she was surprised when he grasped her hips, but she was. Pleasantly, at least.

The sight of her stooped over like that excited him. Being bathed had been more sensuous, like a backrub, but this was just too s.e.xy to resist. Swaying closer, Steve teased her flesh with his own. He didn't have a condom handy, so he wasn't going to penetrate her...mostly wasn't going to penetrate her...she pushed back, slotting him into position, then into place with a soft, feminine groan. A spasm of l.u.s.t twitched through his entire body. Gritting his teeth, he held back, held himself still within her.

"Rachel...I'm not wearing a condom," Steve managed to warn her.

"We're getting married in less than ten days," she reminded him, grinning over her shoulder. "I won't tell if you won't!"

"Well, since not even the worst blizzard in the history of the whole Midwest would stop me from marrying you," he conceded, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in again, nice and slowly, "I think we can keep our mouths shut."

She turned off the tub faucet again to conserve the hot water; they could always rinse off after making love, but not if they ran out first. From the slow pace he was setting, she figured they'd definitely run out of hot water if she left the taps open. Not that slow was a bad thing...but it was getting cold in the bathroom without the shower running. Changing her mind, Rachel stood up, letting him slip free. Turning, she silenced his wordless protest with a kiss, looping her arms around his shoulders. "Let's finish rinsing off, then get dirty in bed, under the nice, warm covers."

As much as he wanted to just take her, Steve conceded not only the increasing chill in the air, but also the slipperiness of their location. Kinky was only okay if it didn't lead to a broken neck, in his book. "Alright. Rachel...I've been thinking," Steve added as she turned on the taps and lifted the lever for the shower head. "I kind of miss the way we used to, you know, court each other. Not that I'm aiming to be spoiled or anything, but I liked you pampering me just now, and I liked doing it to you last night."

Turning to face him, Rachel let the hot water rinse any lingering soap from her back. "I liked it, too. I missed doing things like that."

He nodded. "That's what made me think. What if we set aside one weekend each month, or a weeknight, whatever works with the rest of our schedule...and just make sure to pamper each other on that day?"

Considering the idea, Rachel finished washing off the soap, then shifted out of his way so he could rinse himself, too. "It's not a bad idea at all. But I'd rather spend one day on one of us, and the other day on the other person-the one being lavished with love can reciprocate if they want on their day, but it's their day."

"'Lavished with love,'" Steve repeated over his shoulder, twisting under the spray. "I like the sound of that. And a day apiece, that's good. Nothing too extravagant-we live in Iowa, so no buying either of us a yacht," he teased, making her laugh. "But little things, we can do that. Things we can do around the needs of the Inn. And we could even s.p.a.ce it out every few weeks between the two of us. Say, you get the first and I get the sixteenth of each month?"

Rachel thought about it as she twisted off the taps again. "No, that runs up against New Year's Day. That conflicts with our wedding, which is supposed to be about both of us. How about the fifteenth and the thirtieth? That way, it's separate from any possible holidays or anniversaries, and makes the days in question ours alone for a celebration."

Stepping out of the tub, Steve fetched a large towel from the stack on the shelves in the corner and enfolded her in it with a hug, before fetching one for himself. "I like it. The fifteenth and thirtieth it is. And you get the thirtieth, so I can spoil you before our wedding day." He paused, then added quietly, looking off to one side, "I wish we could still afford a big wedding, then I could've spoiled you on that day, too."

Tucking her finger under his chin, Rachel turned his gaze to her. "I'm marrying you. That's the important thing. If we can survive tornadoes and mortgages and once-a-century blizzards-and we have-then the rest of our lives will be good, and that's all I could ask for. So long as I get to spend the rest of my life with you."

Steve ducked his head, kissing the tip of her finger. "I don't deserve you, woman."

"Every fifteenth of the month, you will," she returned, grinning. "Now, dry off so the important bits don't freeze before we can get into bed. I'm still in the mood to start a family with you, mister!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Grinning back, he complied.

CROCHETING IN THE LIGHT OF THE FOUR VOTIVE CANDLES she had brought upstairs with her, Ca.s.sie blinked sleepily. The infant-sized jumper suit was almost done. Just a few more rows to finish the collar, and she'd be finished. Which was just as well, since she was almost out of pink yarn in the skein she had brought.

Pink.

Blinking again, this time to clear the sleep from her eyes, she grinned and crawled out of the quilt-covered bed. Padding out of her room, jumper and skein wadded in one hand, a candle in its gla.s.s holder carried in the other for illumination, she tapped lightly on the door across the hall from hers with a knuckle. Bella opened it after a moment, one of her dark brown eyebrows arched in silent inquiry. Still grinning, Ca.s.sie lifted the jumper into view, displaying it to her longtime friend.

For a moment, Bella squinted in confusion. Then her brow cleared, her eyes widened, and she smiled as well. Tipping her head to the left, she indicated Mike's door, there at the end of the hall. A nod and Ca.s.sie moved over to that panel, rapping quietly on the painted wood. It opened after a moment. Lifting the votive holder and the nearly finished jumper, Ca.s.sie displayed it to him as well.

He grinned and nodded, speaking softly. "Everything will be taken care of on my end. Don't worry. Just keep up your own work. I trust the snow will end in time for us to get going."

Ca.s.sie nodded, clutching the pink jumper to her chest with that same pleased smile. "Everything will work out, I'm sure of it."

"When does it not?" Bella murmured from the doorway of her room. "Good night, you two."

SOME OF THE SNOW HAD SWIRLED INTO THE TRENCH BETWEEN the farmhouse and the barn, and some of the snow had swirled away from the house, reducing the six feet of snow in the drifts around them to about five and a half. But it was still pa.s.sable when Steve slogged through the knee-high powder and wind-blown flakes on his way to help Pete with the morning's milking. The air was still bitingly cold, too, threatening to freeze him from nostrils to lungs with each cautious breath.

He wanted to be back in bed with his wife-to-be, but tending animals was a responsibility, with cattle to milk and chickens to feed. He did allow thoughts of last night's unfettered coupling to keep him warm, since the wind was blowing hard. Of how deliciously naughty it had felt to enter her without any protection...of how she had laughed at one point during a position shift when he complained about the cold drafts down his back, since the covers had also shifted.

Opening the barn door, he stepped inside, and heard an unexpected sound. The lowing of the girls in their stalls was joined by the bleating, higher bawl of a calf. Blinking, Steve closed the door behind him. There, in Ellen's stall on the other side of the barn, was a newborn calf! And a very tired but pleased-looking Pete, seated on a stool as he fed the hungry thing from the oversized baby bottle of colostrum they had collected.

The slats of the stall were angled wrong for Steve to tell if it was a future bull or heifer. Joining the younger man, he saw the gender. "A boy. Ah, well."

"Something you don't need in a dairy herd. Not when it's the offspring of one of these ladies," Pete agreed. "It's hard not to get attached to 'em when they're newborns. A girl, you could've kept. What'll you do with him?"

Steve always hated this part, but he knew he had to be practical. They had room for six cows, in the count of the stalls and the milking machine stations in the dairy; if the calf had been a heifer, they could've kept her. "Same as the last one, I guess. Raise to the point of weaning, then sell for veal, and keep the stomach for the rennet."

"Rennet?" Pete asked, curious.

"The stomach lining of a milk-fed calf has enzymes that help turn milk into cheese," Steve informed him. "A lot of the enzymes are vegetable-based these days, and we mix it in, but there's no sense in wasting the calf rennet, either. Didn't you ever read the Laura Ingalls Wilder books when you were going up?"

"Nope; I was more into books with talkin' animals. I figured you'd raise him for veal," Pete replied, getting back to the subject. He scratched the top of the calf's head. "That's why I resisted naming him. This is the part about dairy farming I don't like. The rest of it, I do. Much more than pig farming.

"I've been thinking, out here at night," he added, adjusting his grip on the bottle, tilting it higher so the calf could suckle the remaining milk. "I think I should go back to my uncle's place and hire on as a hand. He's always been grateful for the help in the summers. Joey's turning into a real good plumber, an' Dave's got an offer in the works for the garage of the dealership in the next town. It's time I did something with my own life, rather than just drift an' make trouble. An' I'm sorry I came here to make trouble for you an' Miz Rutherford. I shouldn't have done it."

"I think you just finished growing up, Pete," Steve observed softly. "And your apology is accepted. It takes a man to admit when he's been wrong. Anyone who can't do it is still just a boy, no matter how many years under his belt." From the shy smile Pete gave him, Steve knew his compliment had driven home. "But I'm not too sorry you three came out here. Dave helped with the generator, Joey with the plumbing, and now you with the calf. Was it a hard birth?"

"Breech, like you thought; her lowing woke me up," Pete admitted. "But it was easy enough to scrub up, reach in, and turn 'im around." He paused and laughed. "I almost went up to th' house to wake you up, make a city-educated boy like yourself learn how do it...but I thought of all that sloggin' through the snow you did yesterday, gettin' the spark plugs an' such, an' I didn't have the heart to wake you so early. Besides, it was an easy turnin' to do."

A yawn followed his words. Steve took pity on him. "Why don't you finish up with the calf, then go on back to bed for a nap? I'll do the milking and the mucking, then wake you up when it's breakfast time."

Pete smiled at him. "I'll take that offer. This little boy's almost done, anyway. Darn near drained Mama dry when he first latched on, too, so I thought I'd offer him what was in the bottle."

Nodding, Steve went to work.

THE WINDS CONTINUED TO SCOUR DOWN THE DRIFTS OF snow, but at least more didn't seem to be coming down from the thinning clouds in the sky. At the rate it was vanishing, somewhat slower than it had arrived, Rachel figured the roads should be reasonably drivable by Christmas morning. They couldn't get out to church for Sunday services, but that was alright, in a way; Ca.s.sie found a book of hymns in the small, family-style library the Inn boasted, and coaxed the others into singing carols with her. It filled the old farmhouse with joy and tranquility, that eight people, three with diverse faiths, could enjoy such a simple yet uplifting task together while they waited for the last of the storm to abate. And with the drifts gradually blowing away, they'd be able to go into town for Christmas services.

Mike suggested it to the others, in fact, the afternoon of Christmas Eve. After peering out at the rumpled, shrinking mound that was Joey's half-undug truck, he came back to the others. "I think," the dark-skinned man stated with a smile, "that we will all be able to go to your church tomorrow morning."

"'We'?" Joey asked, arching a brow his way. "Ain't you a Muslim?"

"Yes, but we do honor Christ in our own way. His birth is worthy of celebrating." Mike looked at Bella, who shrugged.

"I'm willing to admit he was special, even if I don't know personally if he was the Messiah my people prophesied, or merely a prophet of G.o.d." She looked at Ca.s.sie. They all looked at her. The faiths of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all shared common beliefs at their foundation, but Buddhism was different.

"What?" the vivacious blonde asked, glancing at the others in the front parlor. "There's nothing in the writings that say I cannot also revere Christ. Buddhism is an addition to one's faith. Besides, between Joey and Steve's trucks, and our Bug, we can make it just fine, I'm sure of it. And it'll be nice to interact with other people," Ca.s.sie added. "As nice as we've all been to each other, it'll make an equally pleasant change."

A beeping sound in the distance jerked Steve onto his feet. Dave looked up at him, curious. "What is it?"

"That's the generator's alarm." He grinned at the others. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have power! I'll just go shut off the generator, to conserve what's left of the fuel in the tank."

"If it wouldn't be too much of an imposition," Mike offered politely, looking Rachel's way, "could I possibly check my e-mail? I have some very important messages I've been waiting for."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt," Rachel allowed. "I'm glad you asked me this time around." She gave him a wry smile. "Steve and I were going to put WiFi into the house for our guests, but that got derailed by more important things last summer. Don't take too long; I still need to check and make sure we've enough in our bank balance to cover the mortgage withdrawal."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Bella offered, smiling. "'Tis the season for brotherhood, kindness, and miracles, after all."

THE CHURCH WAS CROWDED WHEN THEY ARRIVED THE NEXT morning. The sky was still overcast and the wind was still blowing, but the weather wasn't hampering travel anymore. In fact, it looked like the only people missing were Steve's parents, but they would've been gone through the whole of the holiday season anyway, including missing out on their son's quiet wedding. Steve and Rachel had urged them to go, however; a Caribbean cruise was an opportunity not to be missed. So, though both of them missed the elder Bethels, they had a good time greeting everyone in the community with hugs and introducing their three out-of-town guests, before settling into the padded pews for the service.

Steve knew the big miracles of his faith were worthy of honoring, but as Rachel snuggled into his side during the reading of the nativity scene, he thought that the woman at his side was his own personal miracle. She wasn't a large miracle, but she was his fiancee, his soon-to-be wife, a woman willing to stand beside him through thick and thin, and that was miraculous enough. From the way her hand crept up to cover her stomach, he could guess she was thinking about a different sort of miracle, the possible creation of life between the two of them. Happier than he had been in a long time, he returned his attention to the service.

At the end of the closing prayer, rather than giving the final parting words of peace and fellowship he usually did, Pastor Jonathan lifted one of his hands and said something unexpected. "And now, for the other thing that drew so many of you out here, despite the lingering snow and the icy roads. Not quite so important as the birth of Our Lord, but important enough to this community to make the effort to stay just a little longer. Will Steven Bethel and Rachel Rutherford please stand?"

Startled, Rachel and Steve exchanged looks before complying; they felt the eyes of the rest of the congregation upon them as they did so, as well as the warmth of everyone's smiles.

"As we all know, the Bethel Inn has. .h.i.t some hard times in recent months. Including to the point that this loving couple gave up their dreams of holding a big wedding, because they couldn't afford it anymore. Well, it being the season for miracles...and aided by the modern miracle of e-mail"-Pastor Jonathan chuckled-"we have managed to pull off a small miracle of our own. Steve, Rachel...if you will permit your friends here in the community to do so, we'd like to give you a big wedding day, right here, right now!

"We already have the civil paperwork from the county, since you picked it up last week...and our three newest guests managed to smuggle in your best outfits," he added, smiling and nodding at Bella, Ca.s.sie, and Mike, who gave unrepentant little smiles and waves to the startled couple. "And since everyone is already here, we all thought, why not celebrate not only a birth, but a wedding as well today? What do you say?" the pastor asked them.

Encouraging words were called out from the sea of faces lining the church. "Go on!" "Do it!" "Don't let 'er get away!" "Don't let him get away!"

Laughter greeted that last outburst; then the congregation quieted, waiting for their reply. Rachel glanced at their three conspirator guests, then looked up at Steve. "Well, you want to get hitched a few days early?"

"More than anything in the world," Steve agreed, before pulling her close enough to kiss. The sound of the pastor clearing his throat broke them apart. Keeping one arm around his fiancee's shoulder, Steve looked at the community members gathered in the church around them, warmed beyond words. "Thank you all for this incredible surprise. I-"

Several arriving figures at the entry doors caught his attention. And Rachel's. She squinted, then widened her eyes. "Mom? Dad?"

"We weren't sure we'd make it, the roads are that messy!" Rachel's mother called out from the back of the sanctuary, unwrapping the scarf covering her face. The others resolved themselves into Rachel's siblings. "Sorry we couldn't make it for the service."

"G.o.d forgives when it's with good intentions. You're just in time to get ready for the wedding. Everyone else, there will be a half-hour break while beautiful things are done to the bride, and the groom is wrestled into his suit," Pastor Jonathan joked. "Tea and coffee are waiting in the fellowship room. G.o.d bless you and hold you in His heart!"

A hand on his elbow distracted Steve from following Rachel as she made her way toward her family, somehow brought all the way out from Des Moines for the occasion. Turning, he saw it was Mr. Thomas Harrod, the mustached, stiffly postured bank owner. Fear raced through him. Didn't we have enough to pay the mortgage?

The older, graying gentleman cleared his throat with a touch of awkwardness. "My, ah, wife pointed out to me that our son, Richard, cannot make cheese. If he cannot make cheese, she cannot eat cheese. Not the Bethel Inn Blue Ribbon Cheese, at any rate. And then she gave me a half-hour lecture on how long the Bethel Inn has been operating, how prosperous it normally is, and...well, she made a lot of sense, once my ears stopped ringing.

"So I'm letting you know that I am going to give the Bethel Inn special dispensation, a full month's leeway in its mortgage payments. Of course, you didn't need it for this month," Mr. Har-rod added under his breath. "But the offer stands. My wife said, you don't make a business prosperous by trying to pretend your best clients aren't all that good...and your family has been very good to mine for a very long time. She said I owe you...and I find I'm inclined to agree."

"She did?" Steve asked, too startled to say anything else, though he did manage to shake the hand the bank owner offered to him.

"She did. That, and she called me nothing but Ebenezer this, and Mr. Scrooge that, for the whole length of the storm," he muttered, smiling slightly, wryly. "May your own wife not have quite so sharp a tongue, whenever she's upset with you. Or at least, may you give her no reason to use it on you."

"Thank you-and a Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Harrod," Steve enunciated carefully, making the man laugh. As the bank owner left him, a touch on his other elbow turned him back around. It was Mike; his two traveling companions had vanished, no doubt to bring Rachel her clothes.

Mike clasped his hands firmly, then nodded politely. "I just wanted you to know that Ca.s.sie, Bella, and I will not be returning to the Inn after the wedding. It's time for us to be on our way. But we enjoyed our stay very much, and we're very happy for the two of you. May the blessings of G.o.d-by whichever name you call Him-shine upon you and your new family like the Star of Bethlehem. Love is a miracle we must not forget to honor. It has been a pleasure seeing you honor that love with your wife-to-be."

"Thank you. Are you sure you cannot stay?" Steve found himself asking. "We've enjoyed hosting you very much."

"Alas, no. We have a long way to go, to get to our next destination," Mike demurred. "But it was good to see you and your impending bride getting a little good fortune back into your lives."

"Will you at least come back?" he asked next. He wanted to ask, Did you cause all of these miracles that have been happening? But there were too many people around, and Steve wasn't going to spoil it by looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. It was enough to know that subtle miracles had happened...like this big Christmas Day wedding everyone else had planned.

Mike merely smiled. "If we can, it would be a delight. Now, if you don't mind, I have your suit waiting in the men's room. I trust I will not have to 'wrestle' you into it?"

Steve laughed at that. "Believe me, I'm more than eager."

RACHEL GAVE HER SITUATION A LOT OF THOUGHT, AS HER two guests, her mother, and her sisters fluttered around her, helping her into her dress, then fixing her hair and face. It wasn't until they were almost ready that she had a moment alone with Ca.s.sie and Bella. "How did you do it?"

The two women exchanged looks before Bella asked, "Do what?"

"Steve and I had a talk the other night. About the one log in the front woodstove that just keeps burning. The spark plugs that were an exact match. The insulation that wouldn't run out. Having on hand the three helpers we needed to keep our inn running. And now, getting my family here in time for an unexpected wedding on the tail end of a big blizzard-Mike using my e-mail, and the pastor saying it was all arranged via e-mail!" She looked up into Ca.s.sie's blue eyes. "You somehow did it all, didn't you? Or at least had a hand in it. It had to have been you. How? And why?"

The two women exchanged looks. Ca.s.sie sighed and shrugged. "We do this every winter solstice, that's why. Northern or Southern Hemisphere, we seek out miracles that need to happen, and make sure they happen."

"Sometimes they happen on their own, and sometimes we just...help them along," Bella admitted with a shrug of her own. "It's been our joy, and our a.s.signment, for as long as we can remember."

"a.s.signment?" Rachel asked, confused. "From who?"

Both women just looked upward for a moment, then back at Rachel again with identical smiles. Ca.s.sie reached over to where she had laid her coat and m.u.f.f on the counter in the ladies' room, pulling a small, roundish, wrapped present out of one of her coat pockets. "Here. One more gift for the two of you. It's not frankincense, but then that fell out of fashion ages ago. And it's far more practical for you."

Curious, Rachel carefully opened the package. A bundle of pink fabric came out, resolving itself into a finely crocheted baby suit, the kind with little footies on the leggings, and little steel snaps up the torso. For a moment, she was confused at why it was such a practical gift...and then blushed bright red. Ca.s.sie grinned at her, patting her on the shoulder. Bella smiled and straightened.

"Don't you worry about a thing. When the world has reached its darkest point, just remember that the light will come back into your lives once again," the dark-haired woman said. "And now, we must be going."

"Wait-one question. If you're...you know, you," the bride-to-be asked, "the Three Magi...aren't you all supposed to be males? And why are calling yourselves a Buddhist, a Muslim, and a Reform Jew?"

"Because miracles happen all the time, regardless of whatever faith you follow," Bella told her.

"And gender does not matter," Ca.s.sie added. "Only love, unity, compa.s.sion, and brotherhood. So long as the teachings are good, does it matter who delivers them? Merry Christmas, Rachel."

"Don't ever forget how much you love each other-and have a good life together. That's an order," Bella added. She grinned. "Now, go and marry that wonderful man."

Rachel started to rise from the chair that had been brought in for her to sit in while having her hair and face done, then looked up at Ca.s.sie. "How long will that log burn?"

"Until the end of tonight. I was going to make it last eight days, but since you figured it out..." The blonde shrugged. "Well, some of the magic goes out of it when people do that."

"A little mystery in life is necessary, to slip the miracles through the cracks in people's attention spans," Bella said. "By the way, that idea you have, to pamper each other one day a month, that's a very good idea. I think we'll keep it in mind for our next visit, and suggest it to others in the future. Just make sure you don't forget to do so, hmm?"

"Yes, keep the love alive," Ca.s.sie agreed. "It'll light up your lives, even on the darkest of nights."

Rachel would have asked more, but her mother poked her head through the door, murmuring that it was time. She looked at Ca.s.sie, who lifted a pink-nailed finger to her lips, and understood the two women wanted her to keep quiet about what she had figured out. Deciding she would comply, Rachel nodded her head, acquiescing. One task at a time, as her groom-to-be liked to say...and that task was now for her to marry him.

Epilogue.