12 Days of Christmas

by Lyle Dagnen

DAY 1

Tomorrow would be Epiphany. It was a day that signaled a revelation, something that had not been known before. The revelation that was building in her mind was that she would truly never be with him again, that he really was cutting her out of his life forever. She had come to the tree every night since Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve had concluded. She had chosen to sit in the cold, black air and wait. She waited alone; no one joined her. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, the city workers would come; they would shake the snow off the limbs of the tree. They would collect the outdoor lights, fertilize the tree, pack wood chips at the base and the tree would be just an evergreen tree by a bench in the park. Tomorrow morning she was suppose to wake up, go on with her life, as if Danny had never been a part of it

*** They were neighbors, their parents' acreage was bordered by a large stand of trees at the far side of both properties. They had discovered one another in their childish attempts to build a tree house in one of the larger trees. He was ten, she a gangly squirt of five, but she was one tough kid for a girl. Soon, he knew in his ten year-old heart, that she thought of him as her hero; she would do anything he asked her to do, up to and including stealing her dad's hammer to work on the tree house. Nothing would keep her away, even when he tried to scare her with stories of haunts in the night. The summer she was five he had read his books to her, Tom Sawyer, Star Wars, Star Trek, it really made no difference to her as long as he was reading the book to her. ***

DAY 2

For eleven nights she had been here; she had not cried a single tear. As the minutes of day twelve ticked away she could feel tears burning behind her eyes, clogging her throat, making it hard to breathe. She did not like to cry, she was trying desperately not to cry. She had sent a message by his best friend, telling him where she would be, that she should be waiting on him each night. It had snowed day ten, still she had been there. Tonight was the icy chill that arrives after a large snow fall that seems to set the snow and make it last for a while.

He had wanted her to forget about him, to move on without him, to abandon him was what she thought. How stupid could he be? He had been strong, big, powerful. So much of her life had been built around Danny and all that he was. He had joined the Navy so he could be a SEAL. He had become one; being blown up has a way of changing all of that. At first, his parents had followed his wishes. They told her he was MIA, presumed dead.

DAY 3

*** When she was fifteen and he was twenty was the first time he had called her jail bait. She certainly wasn't a gangly kid anymore; she was a beauty, some would have said a woman full grown, but the age was dangerous for him and he knew it. She had turned when she heard him, she had smiled, he had shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them off of her. They had talked about the fun they had had as children in the tree house. She talked about the times she had been there without him.

“I missed you, Danny,” she had said softly.  “I did not understand that you had outgrown the tree house.”  She blushed as she continued her story, “I came here waiting for you to come back and talk to me, to tell me what you needed to improve our house.”  She had laughed softly. “I was such a dorky kid.”

“Nah, Jail Bait,” he had joked. “You were just young.”

“Jail Bait?” she had questioned.

“Yeah, if I ask you out they'll put me in jail.”  He had leaned against the tree trunk and smiled at her. He hated the thought of some guy her age taking her out. But he knew that he could not take her out on a date.

DAY 4

She had told him that her English teacher wanted her to write about her best childhood memory. She had told him she was writing about the tree house. He had smiled because he was a part of her best childhood memory. She had mailed him a copy of her English paper and sent a short letter but he had not responded to it. He had kept the English paper. ***


DAY 5 - rated PG13-R-ish

Her cards, her notes, her messages on his phone all stirred his memories of her deep in the heart of his soul. He could feel the touch of her hands on him, the feel of her breath on his neck just before she sucked his skin into her mouth to taste him. He thought about her and the images of the way she looked when he filled her with him, her gasp with pleasure, watching her fall apart as he thrust into her. It was as if he had marked her soul and made her his. He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts. He wasn't going to see her, even though he was just about through with all therapy. He was even working and going to school. He was not going to that tree. The only thing he did was avoid her. Did he miss her? Hell, yes. He missed her so terribly that it was a physical pain deep in his gut. He'd never stopped loving her and he never would. But he was not what or who she had fallen in love with. His greatest fear was that she would grow to not love him, worse, that she would pity him.

Regardless of his intent, he had gone to the tree, just one night, just to see if she was there. She was. He watched her, longed for her, willed her to leave and not come back. Then on the night it snowed, he went back to the park; surely she would have stayed home. There she sat, snow coming down, it was cold but still she waited. He had hidden from her; he did not leave until she did. He had returned the next night; he came tonight thinking it would be the last time he would see her. He could almost feel tears forming in his throat. How in God's name did she do this? It was freezing. Then at midnight she had looked up at the tree, he could see it coming. Her head fell back, she started to shake, she was crying. Not silent crystal tears, but tears that spoke of someone broken in little pieces, someone who hurt so badly that it seemed they would never recover. With everything in him he had tried to turn and walk away; he could not do it. So, he came to sit on the bench, she had won the tug of war on his emotions and resolve. She was so damn stubborn.


DAY 6

He closed his eyes at the remembered feel of her silky hair as it filled his hand; the feel of her back, even though it was shaking almost violently. She did not stop crying. He knew she could not stop. He had seen this once before; he knew to wait until the storm began to calm. It was past one a.m. when she finally was able to begin to stop crying. She allowed him to dry her face with the hand that still wore a brace. She did not flinch or pull away. She refused to look at him.

“You can leave me now,” her voice was faint. “I'd hate to stress you out and make you stay.” Still a tear slipped out of her eyes. As she would have said she had cried until she was a mess.

“Why won't you look at me?” he asked, watching her turn her head away. “Kelly, look at me,” he tried to command her.

“I can't look at you,” she still had not recovered her voice. “I can't see you and let you walk away from me. So I won't look. You can leave me and I just won't see you.”

She was giving him an out; letting him have it his way. She was not being disobedient, he understood that — she was trying to keep herself from being more destroyed than she already was. When he had touched her, he could no more leave her than he could change anything he had done to her. He had broken her heart, he had listened as it crumbled to dust. She closed her eyes, still turned away from him. He moved closer to her, putting his arm around her. She could feel his warmth, she covered her face with her hands. He pulled her against him, holding her tightly in his arms.


DAY 7

“Kelly,” he said her name.

That wasn't fair, she thought; he wasn't playing fair. He'd established the rules and now he was breaking them. She tried to take a deep breath but her lungs would not allow it, so she sort of hiccuped a breath.

He was trying to turn her to face him. “Kelly, look at me.” It was more a statement than a request. “You win. I can't do this anymore.”

She turned, looking at him, staring him in the face. She was furious. “I win!” her voice rasped. She was looking at him but was she ever pissed at him.

He was the happiest man on the face of the earth. If she could get this mad at him it meant she didn't pity him. He smiled but she was still mad and he knew that he was going to get a blast from her temper. She rarely ever got mad, almost never at him. But she was angry and she was letting him have it. He didn't correct her or stop her. He had this one coming.

“I win!” She was getting her voice back because she had raised it to a louder sound. “I win!” she shouted again. “You break me in little bitty pieces, ignore me, and tell me I win!” She had jumped up off the bench and was leaning down nose to nose with him.

He was grinning like an idiot, she was yelling at him. God, he loved her so much. “Yes” he stood using the cane that he had to help with balance. “You win!” he said again and was amazed that she allowed him to put his arms around her.

He stood holding her, kissing the top of her head. She needed a hat on, she was cold; he'd tell her that but not right now. Slowly her arms came around him, almost as a reassurance that he was real, that this wasn't a dream of some kind. He could feel the anger drain out of her; he always held her when she was mad — she couldn't stay mad and accept an embrace. Her hold tightened — she held him.

“Why don't we go somewhere and get some coffee or hot chocolate,” he had dropped his head to speak softly to her.... DAY 8 “I still have the place we picked out before you left. It's almost two o'clock in the morning. We could go to our place.” she offered. She had made the small, ground level apartment into a home. He took in the things that were his, the things he liked and had moved to the apartment they had planned to share when he came home. She had made a place for him to come home to, to share with her. Taking off coats and all the winter gear took a moment or two. she went to the kitchen; she began to make coca. Make it, not open an envelope.  “I get the real stuff,” he teased putting his arms around her and pulling her back against his chest. She leaned back into his embrace. “You always got the real stuff from me, why would I change? Just because you treat me like crap does not mean that's how I'll treat you.” A low blow, it was great. He would allow this, she needed it, he had to admit that even he needed her smart ass mouth right now. It was bringing them to the normal that they would establish.  He could tell she was smiling by the way she relaxed against him. Finishing the coco, setting the heat under the pan, she turned to him. She wanted him to kiss her, he wanted more than anything to feel her lips against his. He wondered if she still tasted the same. His hand held her face, his other hand twisting in her long hair to hold her in place. Gently he covered her lips with his then he moved back.

DAY 8

“I still have the place we picked out before you left. It's almost two o'clock in the morning. We could go to our place,” she offered. She had made the small, ground-level apartment into a home. He took in the things that were his, the things he liked and had moved to the apartment they had planned to share when he came home. She had made a place for him to come home to, to share with her. Taking off coats and all the winter gear took a moment or two. She went to the kitchen; she began to make cocoa. Make it, not open an envelope.

“I get the real stuff,” he teased putting his arms around her and pulling her back against his chest. She leaned back into his embrace.

“You always got the real stuff from me. Why would I change? Just because you treat me like crap does not mean that's how I'll treat you.” A low blow, it was great. He would allow this, she needed it, he had to admit that even he needed her smart-ass mouth right now. It was bringing them to the normal that they would establish.

He could tell she was smiling by the way she relaxed against him. Finishing the cocoa, setting the heat under the pan, she turned to him. She wanted him to kiss her, he wanted more than anything to feel her lips against his. He wondered if she still tasted the same. His hand held her face, his other hand twisting in her long hair to hold her in place. Gently he covered her lips with his then he moved back.

DAY 9 

“I've missed this,” he whispered. Then he took her mouth with a demanding fury that had built in both of them. Tongues tangled, she moaned deep in her throat, biting his lower lip, almost as if she could consume him. There were all the months he had been deployed, then the time he had forced the separation. It was a long kiss, probably one of the most satisfying kisses of all time. He rested his face in her neck, nipping and biting, trying not to leave marks on her. She was trying to catch her breath, pressing her hips against his. He was hard and ready; she knew that she was ready for him. In the past he would have turned her in the direction of the bedroom, or taken her on any convenient flat surface. There was still an awkwardness there between them that had not been there since the first time he had made love to her.

“If cocoa gets a kiss like that, what does it take for me to get lucky?” She was teasing but she could feel the tension return to his body. “Okay,” she whispered, “what do I need to know? Don't you dare pull away from me.” She was holding him. She had always had some kind of hold on him, physically and mentally, even when he had tried so desperately to stay away from her, when she was so young and they had not yet started to date.

“You always talked about how beautiful I was,” he held her face in his hands. She accepted the brace as natural. “I've got scars from the wounds. They aren't pretty.” He was not smiling. He signaled her to check the cocoa. This was a necessary conversation but he was looking forward to the cocoa and they did need to talk.

“So you have a bozo idea that a few scars are going to make me run for the door? If you remember I have the smallest boobs in the world and you didn't get out of bed when you saw them.” She poured the steaming, fragrant chocolate in the cups and added marshmallows. Setting the cups on the countertop, getting out chocolate chip cookies full of pecans, the midnight feast was set. Man, he loved pecans. He smiled. He was a happy man.


DAY 10

“Kelly, listen to me. There are a great many things different now,” he held up his hand to silence her. “You are going to have to learn how to put me together if I need help. You're going to have to learn how to help me if I need help, and I will. You've always been so damn stubborn.” He shook his head as he drank the cocoa. “Damn, but this is good.” His tongue slipped between his lips, removing the taste of the cookie and cocoa as he watched her watching his mouth. Her lips were parted, she sucked her lower lip into her mouth.

He leaned in to kiss her. “Can I stay or are you going to put me out in the snow?” He was enjoying the way she stood, moving between his legs to put her arms around his neck. The way she sucked his bottom lip between her teeth as she kissed him before she thrust her tongue into his mouth, tasting of cocoa and cookies, reminded him of all the reasons that he loved her.

“You can stay,” she kissed him with all the love she had stored in her heart.

In their bedroom, in their bed, the memories of their love making became real again. He was changed physically, but he was still Danny. He had been such an idiot to think he could do without her. He'd think about that later. Right now he was going to make her shout his name. She could feel the heat build deep inside her as she reached the place that she lost who she was, becoming a part of him. She felt herself shatter into a myriad of light in his arms. He joined her as he felt her come to pieces in his arms. He rolled them to his side taking her with him so that she faced him. She placed her nose in the middle of his chest breathing in the scent of him.

DAY 11

“I'm really sorry that I hurt you,” he whispered. She was silent. ”Damn it, Kelly,” he raised up on his elbow, “say something. I didn't forget you. How could I forget?”

“You said you wanted me to forget, to go on without you,” her voice was so soft.

“Will it help if I tell you that I wasn't thinking straight at the time?” His hands roamed the silky feel of her skin.

“I'm not saying anything,” she whispered, he could feel her breath against his chest, “just that I love you.”

He kissed her, “Will you marry me, like we planned when I asked you the last time? Are you going to razz me about this or are you going to marry me?”

“Yes” she said simply, moving into his caress and his kiss.

“Yes what? Marry me or razz me?” he was smiling at her.

“I'll marry you.”

“How long will this last?” he asked.

“The marriage or the razzing?” she responded.

“The razzing?”

“I ought to make it last over a year,” she retorted. “But I really am way too happy to keep it up too long.” She paused. “My heart really did break, you know.”

“I know that.” He held her close to him. “How about if I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you?” He felt himself grow rigid against her hip. He was surprised to be ready for her again. This time it was going to last longer. He began to nuzzle her neck, kissing behind her ear. She wiggled under him again. “You are one amazing woman.” He covered her mouth in one of those forever kisses. Once again their souls met in that place where stars sear the soul with passion.


DAY 12

As they lay together, coming back to their senses, he reached into the pocket of his pants laying on the floor, retrieving a box that he had purchased before he was hurt. He had thought he would never be able to give this to her. When he turned back she was asleep. He kissed her gently, wrapped her in his arms falling asleep beside her.

He woke feeling her fingers lightly tracing the bullet wound scars, her lips kissing the burn marks as if she could magically make them disappear. She was not revolted, she loved him. He reached for the tiny box on the table, sitting it unopened on his chest where she liked to bury her nose. She grew still, she looked at him, then back to the box.

“Open it,” he whispered.

He smiled because her hands were shaking. She stopped breathing when she saw the emerald set in diamonds.

“Breathe, Kelly.”

In the box were two wedding bands, and an engagement ring.

“It's a set,” he teased. “Kinda like us.” He was smiling again, he couldn't seem to help it.

“Oh, Danny,” she whispered, “we've always been a set, we're made for each other. I love you.”

He slipped the engagement ring on her finger, shut the box, put it in the drawer by the bed.

“Come here.” He pulled her into his arms. That was their last coherent thought as the sunlight broke through the curtains, heralding a new day. Epiphany.