Do You Feel What I Feel. a Holiday Anthology Page 9

  Cal was sprawled all across her, her hair spread out over Hekate’s breasts and the blanket, her face buried in the crook of Hekate’s neck. She felt very warm and incredibly soft. As Hekate took in the novel sensation of waking up so close to each other, Cal started to move, stretching as much as she could without releasing Hekate. She made a contented sound.

  Hekate tried not to sigh, forbidding herself to move. The war had made her cynical, after all, and she thought that probably this would be over in a second. Cal would fully wake and give her a shocked look. She would blame yesterday’s sleep deprivation or the adrenaline of battle. She’d do her mightiest to act as if this had never happened and be quick to leave the hotel. It was quite possible, after all, that only Hekate felt as if the world had changed. It might still be the same world for Cal, who hadn’t seen Kerry kissing her girlfriend on the street. Hekate didn’t even know if she should tell her about all that.

  Then Cal was moving, apparently trying to find a more comfortable position on the pillow.

  Her breath tickled against Hekate’s throat.

  “I think I like Christmas the best of all the human holidays,” she muttered lazily.

  Hekate snorted a surprised laugh.

  “You don’t even know what it celebrates.”

  “No,” Cal agreed, her voice muffled. “But I like the part with the gifts.”

  Hekate smiled.

  A bell chimed above the door when Hekate pushed it open. A slow workday lay behind her—most workdays were slow now that the clean-up of the war was finished. Still, it had been a long war; some had thought it wouldn’t ever end. So many had died, and entire clans had gone down. So Hekate glowered at the human women at the closest table when they looked up, just out of principle.

  The women answered by giving her a cheerful wave.

  Her lips twitched after all, at that.

  It was 1996. The LGBT Coalition took over this Charlestown pub as it did every other Tuesday, and the first couple of members had already trickled in. The guest of honor was probably here already, in the back room, preparing their handouts or whatever they’d brought for their speech. Some activist from the West Coast had been scheduled for tonight, Hekate was reasonably sure.

  “Haven’t seen you in a while,” the bartender said as she handed Hekate a Diet Coke. Anna still sported a proud purple Mohawk, though these days it was streaked with green for flavor. Her presence probably meant that Kerry was around somewhere as well.

  Hekate sank on the bar stool, accepted the proffered bottle, and gratefully took a sip.

  “I’m hard to keep away,” she replied.

  It was good to belong.

  SNOW, WITH A CHANCE OF LOVE

  by B.A. Caldwell

  Britt Keller looked around her apartment, which appeared as if a hurricane had blown through it. Couch cushions askew, shelves emptied, papers and books littered the floor. The place was torn apart. Britt raked her fingers through her short brown hair and scanned the room for the hundredth time. She had searched everywhere, in every nook and cranny of her 600-square-foot apartment.

  She picked up one of the couch cushions and put it back where it belonged. After plopping down on it, she huffed out a breath. How could it have just disappeared?

  A whine came from the corner of her apartment, the only corner untouched by the chaos she had created. George, her dachshund-terrier-mutt, stared back at her from his cozy dog bed.

  “Well, you were no help, Georgie. Just sleeping away in your bed, while I did all the heavy lifting.”

  He perked up his ears, jumped out of his bed, and trotted over to her.

  Britt leaned down to give him the requisite scratch behind the ears—George’s favorite—when she spotted it.

  The missing library book.

  In George’s bed.

  In tatters.

  “George Tiberius Keller!” Britt exclaimed.

  He stopped in his tracks and adopted a guilty look.

  She retrieved what was left of the Multnomah County Public Library’s copy of RJ Cruse’s newest mystery novel. George had obviously been thorough in his attentions to the book. The cover was riddled with bite marks; one corner was completely chewed off, and many of the pages within were shredded.

  Britt shook her head. “Mystery solved, I guess,” she murmured.

  George whined and rolled over on his back, clearly still angling for some petting.

  Sighing, she scratched his belly.

  “You know I can’t stay mad at you, Georgie. I guess we’ll call this your early Christmas present since now I’ll have to pay to replace this.” She shook her head. “I didn’t even get to find out how it ends.”

  It took an hour to straighten up her apartment. This was definitely not how she had planned to spend the first Saturday of her winter break. Her plan had been to curl up with the last hundred pages of her book and a cup of tea. She deserved it. The past two weeks had been a flurry of final exams and papers and presentations. She was only one semester away from finishing her graduate degree in chemistry, and this term had been her toughest yet. She had dutifully focused on her schoolwork instead of delving back into her book, though she was dying to see how it ended. Even when she thought she would pull her hair out from the stress of studying for her organic chemistry final, she had not even touched the novel.

  The ruined book sat on her kitchen counter for the rest of the day. Britt felt guilt every time she passed it. Her mind concocted reasons not to go into the library to explain about the book. She dreaded the idea of having to talk to her.

  By midafternoon, she knew she could put it off no longer. She would have to walk the two blocks to the library branch and fess up. She would have to talk to Dream Librarian, as Britt mentally referred to her—the librarian who flustered her and made her heartbeat quicken every time she visited the library.

  She would put off the trip indefinitely, but the local weather forecasters were predicting a big snowstorm. At first she thought they were probably just making a big deal out of a few possible snowflakes, but now all signs pointed to actual snowing, sometime today. Britt, like most other Portlanders, had a love/hate relationship with winter weather. While the usual forecast called for rain, rain, and more rain, the occasional snow or ice could really throw the city into a panic.

  She wanted to stock up on some fun books and DVDs from the library before the snow arrived, so Britt bundled up in a knit cap, a raincoat, and a scarf and gathered the book remains and her wallet.

  “I’ll be back in a little bit, Georgie,” she called as she exited her apartment. “If you get hungry, there’s an organic chemistry textbook by the couch that I never want to see again.”

  It was a short walk to the library, and the predicted snowflakes were already coming down. While Portland’s skies were their usual gray, the wind was crisp and cold, even for December. Britt wrapped her scarf more securely to keep out the chill and thought about how she should handle the book situation.

  Option 1: Shove the ruined book into the book drop with an apology letter attached to it.

  Option 2: Tell the librarian a harrowing tale about how she had lost the book while on a jungle safari. With wild, book-stealing orangutans! Or while saving some sick people in a remote and dangerous land…somewhere. Clearly, this would need more fleshing-out.

  Or option 3: Don’t take the book back and never explain what happened to it. Never use the library again. Move to a new city, and change name.

  Britt could almost hear Grandma Evelyn tsk-tsk-ing at her. Honesty is the best policy, Britt!

  Humiliation is the best policy in this case, thought Britt. She sighed as she reached the entrance to the library and went in.

  In contrast to the cold dreariness outside, the library was warm and cheerful. Colorful displays of picture books adorned the children’s section to the right of the entrance. The
walls were painted a sunny yellow, and flyers on the community bulletin board advertised things such as “Computers 101 for senior citizens” and “Book Babies Storytime.”

  Britt decided to pick out her blizzard entertainment first. She grabbed a few more mystery novels and a couple of holiday movies on DVD. Best to be safe in case of a prolonged snowy spell. She glanced outside, where the snow was coming down significantly faster than when she had walked in. No more delaying this.

  She walked up to the circulation desk and was relieved—and, truth be told, maybe a bit disappointed—that she wasn’t there. Perhaps she wasn’t working today. Perhaps Britt would be spared having to humiliate herself in front of the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.

  No. Such. Luck.

  Just as Britt arrived at the desk and was reaching into her messenger bag to pull out the book, Dream Librarian came out of the staff office and headed directly toward her.

  Britt froze, staring at her. “Anne M.” read the nametag attached to the librarian’s cardigan. Somehow this woman with the blonde curls down her back and large blue eyes made even a simple cardigan look hot.

  “Hi there, how can I help you?” Anne the Dream Librarian asked.

  Britt the Speechless said nothing, making Anne give her a curious look.

  Option 3! Get out now! Britt’s brain was yelling.

  The librarian still gazed at her, cleared her throat, and tried again after an awkward pause. “It’s Ms. Keller, right? What brings you in today?”

  Britt forced herself to unfreeze and take a breath. Get it together, Keller! It’s not like you haven’t seen beautiful women before, and specifically this beautiful woman, pretty much every time you’ve visited the library branch in the past few months.

  “My dog,” were the words that finally emerged from Britt’s mouth.

  “Your…dog?” asked Anne, her brow crinkling.

  “Yes, my dog.” The tightness in Britt’s throat eased up a little. “His name is George. After George Washington, because he swallowed a dollar bill the first day I brought him home from the humane society.”

  Anne nodded understandingly, as if people came into the library every day to talk to her about their dogs.

  “This is a picture of him.” Britt pulled out her smartphone instead of the damaged book and showed her a photo that she had snapped of George last Halloween.

  The corner of Anne’s mouth hitched up. “Is he wearing a Star Trek uniform?” Amusement colored the librarian’s voice.

  A warm glow filled Britt inside for having made her smile.

  “Yes, George is a Star Trek fan from way back,” Britt said. “Sci-fi in general, actually. Last year he dressed up as Dr. Who.”

  At that, Anne let out a soft chuckle.

  “So…you have an adorable dog who loves sci-fi. I admire his taste.” Anne smiled, and Britt admired the dimple that appeared. “Does that mean you’re looking for books about dogs? Or the latest season of Dr. Who?”

  Britt enjoyed making Anne smile, but it was time to come clean. “Actually, he may turn out to be more of a mystery lover than sci-fi fan. I guess they taste better.” Sheepishly, she pulled the tattered copy of A Hot Night for Murder out of her bag. Several pages fell out, landing in front of Anne on the desk.

  “Oh, I see.” Anne picked up the pages full of bite marks. Her expression went from bemused to concerned.

  Britt wished she could do something to bring back the grin.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I left it sitting where he could get it. I’ll pay for a replacement.”

  “I appreciate that you brought this in and for being honest,” Anne said. “You would be surprised by how many people make up fantastical stories or just move away without returning items. I’ll go ahead and give this to our processing department, and they’ll add the fine to your account.”

  The relief must have been evident on Britt’s face, because Anne smiled reassuringly.

  “I promise this is not the first bibliocide by canine I’ve seen in my five years as a librarian. Just remind George that book eating is beneath an officer of Starfleet.”

  Britt laughed. “Thank you for being so cool about it. I thought maybe I would lose library privileges for life or something.”

  “Contrary to the popular stereotype, we librarians aren’t just here to glare at you while saying ‘shhh.’” Anne was smiling again, and Britt felt as if she could gaze at that face all day and never get tired of it.

  “I’m glad.” Britt knew she probably had a goofy grin on her face, but she couldn’t help it. “I’ll keep these on the highest shelf.” She indicated her stack of books and DVDs.

  “Glad to hear it,” Anne replied. “You must be doing what everyone else today has been doing, getting ready for the snowpocalypse.”

  “Of course, gotta be prepared. You never know how long you’ll be shut in, in this town.” Britt handed over her stack for Anne to scan.

  “Well, as a recent transplant from California, I’ll have to take your word for it.” Anne scanned the items and handed them back. “I’ve never even seen snow before today.”

  “You’re kidding!” Britt exclaimed.

  “It’s true. I love Portland, and I’m glad I moved here, but it’s been a lot of adjustment. First time using public transit, first time owning a bike as an adult, and now, first snow.” She pressed her hand to her lips as if she had said too much, and her cheeks turned a delightful pink.

  “Well, stay safe, Anne.” Britt was loath to end the conversation, but she still needed to get to the grocery store before snow started shutting down everything in the city. From the looks of the flakes coming down and the fact that it appeared to be sticking, it wouldn’t take long to send Portland and its residents into a full-blown panic.

  “Thanks, you too, Ms. Keller,” Anne said.

  Britt turned back before she headed out into the cold. “It’s Britt.” She smiled and walked out before she could say anything foolish. I’ll keep you warm came to mind.

  It took another hour and a half for Britt to take the bus up to New Seasons Market to pick up a few snow-day provisions. The store was packed with people who had the same idea; though by the looks of it, Portlanders’ idea of essential provisions included a one-to-one ratio of beer to food.

  On her bus ride back to her apartment, she checked the weather forecast on her phone. Up to twelve inches of snow predicted for the night, with more tomorrow. In some places that would be considered a light dusting. In Portland, it meant roads, transit, and businesses could be shut down. The bus she was on already had its snow chains on.

  When she disembarked a block from her apartment, it was dark and the library’s lights were out. She started walking toward her building, but a flicker of red caught her eye.

  Across the street, Anne was standing at a bus stop in a coat that was clearly not meant for snow and a thin red scarf flapping in the wind. She noticed Britt staring from across the street and she gave a small wave.

  Britt waved back and then hesitated. She wanted to offer Anne a coat or warmer scarf or something but didn’t want to come across as pushy or creepy, so she made herself turn toward her own building. I’m sure her bus will be here any minute.

  When she entered her second-floor apartment, she was greeted by exactly three happy barks from George.

  “Hi, Georgie.” Britt absently scratched behind his ears. She walked into her small but cozy kitchen and began emptying her bag. After putting the groceries away and stacking her library items on top of the fridge, where they were safe, she peeked out the window to see if the bus had come by yet.

  It hadn’t. It was getting darker, the snow was still falling, and Britt could see that Anne was shivering from all the way across the street. There were hardly any cars on the road at all now, let alone buses.

  Mind made up, Britt grabbed her coat, scarf, a
nd hat, and then an extra coat and George’s leash. “Come on, Sir George, let’s go for a little walk.”

  As soon as they exited and George set a paw on the snow, he made his feelings about that weird cold stuff clear. He immediately turned around and began tugging the leash back toward the safety of their home.

  Ignoring him, Britt crossed the road with reluctant dog in tow.

  Anne’s head came up. She looked wary for a moment before seeming to recognize her.

  “Hi, Ms. Kell—um, Britt,” she said, teeth chattering.

  “How long have you been waiting for your bus?” Britt asked.

  “Oh, about thirty minutes or so,” Anne replied and sniffed.

  “I brought you this coat, because yours looks like it isn’t made to handle more than a slight autumn breeze.” Britt held out the coat.

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly take your coat—”

  “How far is your commute?” Britt cut in, still holding out the coat.

  “Beaverton,” said Anne with a sigh.

  “Beaverton? That’s at least an hour ride, plus whatever you have to walk from your stop there. You’re going to need this coat. Please.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.” Anne took the coat and put it on. They were about the same size, but Britt’s bulky coat seemed to engulf her. “Thank you, this is much better already. I’ll bring it to the library with me tomorrow if you want to come get it back.”

  Britt hesitated again. This whole thing was wrong. It was freezing outside, dark, and there was no bus in sight. Then she noticed Anne’s feet.

  “What are those?” She stared at the ballet flats. “I thought librarians were all about sensible shoes! Your feet must be frozen.”