"Shalom," she breathed into the metal box, before closing the door. Inside the stove, the log slowly caught fire, burning with a steady golden light. The Franklin stove was as far as one could get from a menorah, but in a storm like this, it was just as important to warm the body as to warm the spirit.
This had to be the snowstorm to end all snowstorms; by the time they reached the front porch of the converted farmhouse, it was nearly three steps shorter than it should have been, and all of them were chilled to the bone, shivering inside their clothes. A pink-clad figure met them on the porch, dusting each of them off in a fluttering bustle of pink-gloved hands before allowing them into the house, so that the caked snow on their clothes wouldn't melt and soak them into a worse chill, or so Cassie chattered. The boys accepted her fussing with wide eyes, and Steve with an impatient sigh, wanting only to rejoin his fiancee. Bella accepted it with a roll of her eyes as she finished coiling the last bit of rope.
As soon as they were inside, Rachel met them with a tray loaded with steaming mugs. The spicy scent warmed Steve's heart just as much as his lungs. As soon as he had shed his outer coat and his gloves, he wrapped his hands around the almost-toohot mug, letting the heat sink into his chilled fingers. For a moment, he wanted to tell her how much he loved her. It felt too awkward, though. Professing his love in front of strangers was bad enough, but in front of three unwelcome guests, boys who would snicker and make fun of his feelings...he couldn't do it.
Mike came down the stairs, dressed in a deep brown sweater-vest, tan shirt, and chocolate trousers. "I'm glad to see all of you made it back safely. Allah's blessings upon you, and those of the Prophet Emmanuel."
Pete blinked and frowned at him. "You ain't a Christian?"
Bella smacked him on the back of the head with her muff. "No, he isn't! And neither am I, though I'm willing to admit your Christ was probably a True Prophet of God, if not the Messiah."
"God is God," Cassie interjected smoothly, favoring Pete with a smile. "Whether you dress Him up in an aba, a sari, or a three-piece suit, God is God."
"And this time of the year has been set aside for the celebration of kindness, tolerance, unity, and brotherhood," Mike agreed as he finished descending the last few steps. Reaching for one of the mugs, he lifted it from the tray in Rachel's hands. "A toast: to the enlightenment that comes from opening our minds to knowledge. May we all know the Creator a little better, through getting to know each other."
Bella plucked a mug from the tray, holding it high. "May we all enjoy the comfort of a solid roof over our head, good food in our bellies, and friendships--both new and old--warming our hearts."
"To peace, in this holiest of seasons," Cassie agreed, taking the second-to-last mug. She looked expectantly at Steve, who realized she wanted him to add a toast.
"Uh...to finding these two young gentlemen alive."
"And to making it back alive," Joey added, clinking his mug against his friends'.
David blinked, then nodded. "To being rescued, even when I made an a--" He caught Bella's pointed glare and changed his wording. "A donkey of myself."
"To, um...tolerance, and the holiday spirit," Pete agreed.
"To a Merry Christmas, a happy hajj, and a joyous Hanukkah," Rachel offered. Then blinked and looked at Cassie. "Um...what celebrations do Buddhists hold at this time of the year?"
"The day the Buddha began his search for Enlightenment, but that was earlier in the month," she dismissed with a smile. "I'm perfectly fine with the idea of toasting happiness, merriment, and joy, since you're all safe and sound."
"Then to happiness, merriment, and joy," Rachel allowed, clinking her mug with the others.
"Good! Now it should be cool enough to drink," Mike told the others, smiling. They lifted their mugs to their lips, finding the cinnamon-laced apple juice just on the tolerable side of hot.
Rachel lowered her mug and gestured everyone into the front parlor. "Come, sit! Shed a few more layers as soon as you've warmed up enough. If anyone needs a hot shower, we have three of them available, but the water tanks can only reheat so much at one time."
"That's assuming the power doesn't go out," Pete muttered, taking a seat on a padded calico footstool. "Storm this bad'll probably knock out a substation somewhere, plus all them power lines coming down."
"Naw, the county got smart along this stretch of road, an' buried all the lines," Joey reminded his friend, stretching out his legs. He'd claimed the rocking chair in the corner by the stove. "Power'll only go out if the substation goes. Of course, that makes it a pain in the b--uh, backside when it comes to findin' the road if the drifts get deeper than the ditches, since there's no poles to watch for."
"Well, if the power goes out, we've got a portable generator in the lean-to, just off the mudroom out back," Steve told the others from his seat on the sofa, freeing one hand from the mug of cider so that he could tuck his wife-to-be closer against him. Having cheated a frozen, swirling death, he appreciated Rachel a whole lot more today.
"Speaking of which...shouldn't at least one of you gentlemen cough up a credit or debit card, so that our hostess can register you for your stay?" Mike inquired gently, giving the three boys a pointed look.
"You can't be serious about that," Dave scoffed.
"Quite serious," Bella stated before Rachel or Steve could speak. "Two of you owe your very lives to Mr. Bethel and that rope of his that guided us safely back to this shelter."
They looked at each other, then Joey grumbled under his breath, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. "You can put it on mine, Miz Rutherford. I'll beat it outta the other two later."
Pete snorted. "As if you could!"
"Let us not test that theory in person," Mike chided them. He turned to their hostess, who had leaned fully into her fiance's side, her slippered feet curled up next to Bella's hip. "So, what shall we be having for our lunch?"
"Tomato soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, and steamed vegetables," Rachel replied promptly. "With more cheese smothered over the top."
Dave scratched his chin. "Well, if it's the Bethel Inn cheese, I suppose I could stomach 'em..."
"It is," Rachel promised, reluctantly uncurling from Steve's side to take the credit card Joey extended her way. There was a credit reader in the kitchen she could use to bill him with. Credit wasn't quite as good as debit, since it wasn't an instant transfer of funds, but it would have to do.
"Well, in the meantime, why don't we play a game?" Cassie offered. "Something to warm us up in both body and mind, like charades!"
The others groaned, but conceded the idea. With the snow swirling outside the house, the front room was cozily warm in contrast, thanks to the cheerfully burning woodstove. Bella volunteered to go first, rising to her feet and holding up three fingers.
"Okay, three words," Mike agreed.
She held up two fingers, and Joey said, "Second word."
Two more fingers, and Pete offered, "Two syllables?" Bella shook her head, so he changed it to, "Two letters?"
A nod and a tug of her ear, then a fluttering of her fingers, her thumbs intertwined, forming the shape of a bird. Steve narrowed his eyes. "Sounds like...dove--of!"
The black-clad woman nodded, unbuttoning her overcoat. Naturally, she was wearing an all-black ensemble of wool slacks and an angora sweater underneath. She held up her first finger after passing her coat to Dave, who draped it over the arm of his chair, and then she held up four fingers.
"First word, four letters," the dark-haired youth offered, and received a nod.
A tug of her ear, and she stretched her hands out, as if expanding something. Steve tried to guess it. "Sounds like...stretch. Expand?"
Bella shook her head twice. Mike tried a guess next. "Lengthen?"
She swirled her fingers, encouraging that line of thought. Pete blurted out, "Long?"
Grinning, Bella tugged on her ear and pointed to him.
"Wrong, bong, thong," Dave muttered.
"Song?" Steve asked, and rec
eived a sharp nod, three fingers, and then seven more in reply. It popped into his head. "'Song of Solomon'?"
"You got it!" Applauding him, Bella reseated herself on the other end of the couch. "Your turn, Mr. Bethel!"
"Steve, please," he urged. Thinking for a moment, he rose and began his own charade attempt with a smile and six fingers.
By the time Rachel returned, the others were laughing at her betrothed, who was flapping his elbows and making faces.
"Six words, Miz Rutherford!" Joey gasped, wiping at the tears in his eyes. "We can't figure it out!"
"One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," she stated, and grinned as the others gaped. "He did the exact same one when we first played charades together at a party back in college."
"Cuckoo?" Mike snorted. "He looked more like a drunken chicken! No offense meant."
"None taken," Steve agreed, straightening with a grin. He took his fiancee's hand and kissed it impulsively, remembering that party and how she had found his silliness endearing rather than off-putting. "Your turn, love."
"HEY."
The soft-spoken word turned Steve's head. Pete stood in the doorway to the mudroom, watching him tug on his boots. "What do you want?"
"That gal, Bella, is right. I owe you my life. Me an' Dave both do." He scratched at the back of his head for a moment, then asked, "You gotta go milk your cows, right?"
"That's right," Steve agreed. "It's almost time for their afternoon milking."
"Well, I can help you. I've done it before, at my uncle's place," Pete offered with a diffident shrug. "If nothin' else, you'll need help clearin' a path to th' barn."
Steve hesitated only a moment before nodding his head. "There's only the four of them that need full milking; one of them's at the first-milk stage, so that'll need to be set aside; there's a bottle of colostrum started in the dairy's fridge. But the offer is appreciated. Get your things, and put them on in here. I've already strung a rope from the house to the barn, so we'll be following that from here."
Nodding, looking relieved at having his offer accepted, Pete vanished from the doorway. Steve finished settling his snow boots on his feet, and hoped that this peaceful coexistence would continue. The two boys did owe him their lives, true, but he didn't do things like that to hold any favors over the heads of others. He had done it because it was the right thing to do.
STEVE GROANED AS HE SETTLED BETWEEN THE FLANNEL sheets next to Rachel. It had been a long day, and he was tired from slogging through the snow. The radio on the far side of the bed from him played softly, letting them know there was still electricity to the house. Rachel had picked a classical music station, something soothing, relaxing.
"How are the cows doing?" she asked him. "Do you need to watch Ellen yet?"
"If this one's anything like the last five calvings, she'll have two more days to go before she's ready to drop. Butt first," he added, gesturing with his hand. "But she'll drop. Probably the night before Christmas Eve."
"And unless a miracle happens, this storm will keep the vet away for longer than those three days," Rachel sighed, twisting onto her side so she could snuggle close. "You'll have to start sleeping out in the barn tomorrow night, just in case...and I'll miss you."
A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. He twisted his head, kissing her dark hair. "Actually, Pete is going to be sleeping out there. We'll trade off during the day, but he's volunteered to watch during the night. He's had to turn breech-birth calves half a dozen times before, with his uncle's guidance. And he says the cot we have out there is nicer than having to doss down in the hay like at his uncle's place. I made sure he had extra blankets. He'll be fine."
"It's a nice turnaround from him and his friends coming here to bully us earlier," Rachel sighed. "And it takes one of our worries off the mind. Depending on whether or not the credit companies can give us a fast turnaround on processing Joey's card before noon, we should have enough in the bank for the automatic withdrawal of the mortgage. If not..."
"If not, then there's nothing we can do about it. Except pray for a miracle that Mr. Harrod gets that stick unwedged from his butt," Steve muttered.
Rachel shoved at him lightly for the vulgarity, and he kissed her on the lips to soothe her protest. It had been a while since they had last kissed in bed. Stress had taken its toll on their urge for intimacy, submerging their desires under the weight of their worries. With some of that weight lifted, and with memories stirred of how they had first gotten together, Steve felt his body quickening with a half-forgotten thrill of desire. So what started out as a simple, loving kiss grew a bit warmer.
His hand slid from her shoulder to her breast. Rachel sucked in a startled breath, pulling her head back. He hadn't touched her like that in a few weeks, and truth be told, she hadn't been in the mood for it herself. Until now, that was. Brown eyes stared at hazel for a long heartbeat, then they both squirmed under the covering quilts, Steve removing his pajamas, Rachel her long-sleeved nightgown.
Shoving the garments under their pillows so they could be found again, Rachel squeaked when Steve pounced on her, his hands just a little too chilly for comfort. He tickled her ribs, making her giggle, then muffled the noise with his lips, recapturing their kiss. She returned the favor, brushing her fingertips over the hairs dusting his chest. He retaliated by cupping her breast.
The soft, moaning sigh that escaped Rachel's lungs made Steve remember that sound, back when they had first been intimate. It reminded him how much she had enjoyed the way he had stroked and savored her curves. The last time they had made love, he had only played with them a little, wanting to move on to the rest of her body. Only he hadn't really moved on to the rest of it. Not her legs, not her arms...
I've been neglecting her, he thought, pulling back from their kiss. She gave him a puzzled look, so he gave her a reassuring smile in return. I should not neglect the woman I love.
Catching her hand, he brought it to his mouth, nipping gently at her skin. From the flush of her cheeks, she still enjoyed having her fingers nibbled and licked. That made him dredge through the rest of his memory, recalling every little caress she had ever enjoyed at his hand. The suckling of his lips at the soft inner bend of her elbow. The lapping of his tongue over the tender flesh of her wrist. The worshipful caress that palmed the outer curve of her breast.
Rachel moaned again, enjoying his touch. She couldn't remember the last time he had pampered her like this. As he worked his way down her torso, teasing around her nipples rather than going straight to their crinkled tips, she knew she would reward him once he was done with her. It would be rude to interrupt him before he was done, after all.
When he kissed her belly, she giggled. It was too ticklish a sensation not to react--mainly because he lapped like a kitten around the rim of her navel. But rather than continuing on to her core, he squirmed into a lump under the covers that had enough room to nibble on the soft skin of her thighs. Aroused more than she could remember, Rachel moaned softly with each breath. With their room on the ground floor, she didn't fear the softer sounds of lovemaking. Only if he provoked her into a loud cry would she worry, though they had invested some of their renovations in filling the spaces between the walls with plenty of insulation.
Oh! Oh...there... Her breath groaned out of her when she felt his tongue tickling the edges of her folds. Hands curling into the feather-stuffed pillows, Rachel twisted, arching her hips up and splaying her knees out. There, there, there...ohhh, yes, this man deserves a big reward for thi--wait, he's stopping.
Disoriented by the sudden cessation of pleasure, she lifted her head, feeling him squirming an arm up the length of her body--and not to grope her breasts. He batted instead at the edge of the covers, lifting them up. A moment later, Rachel heard a deep inhalation. She giggled, divining his problem.
"Can't breathe down there, my love?" she asked her lover, amused.
"No, I can't," came his half-muffled reply. "A little help with the air, please?"
"And let myself
freeze from the cold draft?" she joked, shifting the bedding so that it formed what she hoped was an adequate tunnel.
"I'll make sure you're kept nice and warm," Steve murmured, returning to his task. A moment later, he paused in his savoring to add, "Mm, tasty."
That made her laugh. It was what he'd first said about her recipe for cider, and for the first meal she had made for him...and the first time they had made love. No, she didn't mind the cold, after all; not when he resumed flicking his tongue between her nether lips, sending a flush of pleasure out across her body.
He knew her very well. In fact, Steve could usually make her climax within minutes once he began tasting her down there. This time, he took his time, using his knowledge to tease, not just to please. A flick here, a suckle there, a bit of lapping, a swirling lick. Gentle stroking from his fingers, counterpoint to the nibbling of his lips. One of those fingers slipped inside, carefully twisted around, and pressed upward in a fluttering movement. Stars exploded silently behind her eyes, making her cry out.
When he added an equally rapid flicking of his tongue to the peak of flesh overlooking his finger, Rachel shattered deliciously, arching her neck and twisting her body, before relaxing gradually under the easing of his touch.
Steve couldn't breathe; her brief writhe had been just enough to collapse the tunnel of the bedcovers that had been providing him with fresh, cool air. Squirming carefully up the length of her body, he poked his head out with a gasp of relief, flushed from the heat the two of them had generated under the thickly layered quilts. He grinned as he gulped in the crisp, cool air. In fact, he was surprised he still fit in the bed, given the dreamy, dazed look on his fiancee's face.
What a way to make a man feel ten feet tall! Damn, I've missed totally scattering her wits like that. What a fool I was, letting the grind of daily life drive our love down into something ordinary...