December 24th
Gene pulled the minivan into the side parking spot and turned off the engine, then faced Sarah. It was the first chance they'd had to be alone together since his return earlier that afternoon. "How was the Vespers service? Sorry I got in late. Everything was delayed, it's a mess from Texas to Omaha. I snagged the last flight after the front came through."
"It was sweet. The wise men had new robes made for them by the quilting club, and the three year olds were a flock of sheep. Evan's mom made sheepskins for them to wear with little tails, they were adorable. Jay made a good Santa Claus, as usual," Sarah said, and gave him a smile. "Were you able to get the food donation to Pastor Ron?"
Gene nodded. "Loaded everything into the basement just in time. It's all set up to distribute right there in the kitchen. The kids at the supermarket helped me pack it in the stockroom, and they're all sworn to secrecy. There's enough for everyone. Rick's doing the toys this year."
"The kids will have plenty of goodies, then," Sarah said, and stretched a little. "He always buys more than enough." She hesitated. "Can we talk?"
"It's warmer in the house," Gene said—a weak joke, but the best he could do under the circumstances.
"Yeah, I know, but we have company and I want this to be just between you and me. Is that all right with you?"
Gene understood why she asked. She knew about his dislike of confrontations in enclosed spaces. "It's okay. Go ahead, I'm listening."
"Okay." She hesitated. "I just want to say I'm sorry about the fight we had." She put her hand over his. "I know you were trying to protect me. I didn't mean to hurt you. I lost my temper and it didn't do either one of us any good. I shouldn't have let my feelings get the better of me."
Gene looked down at her hand. She'd used lotion on her skin, but it was still a little reddened from the cold, and her cuticles needed to be trimmed and moisturized too. She always gets chilblains when winter comes, he thought. She'll wear paper tape and salve on the cracks clear through to April. "You're asking a lot when you want me to step down," he said aloud.
"I know," she said. "You're the only one who's ever offered to take things on for me. I don't always know how to handle it." She sounded ashamed, and worried. Gene's heart expanded with love. He leaned in and kissed her lips, warm and a little chapped from the cold air.
"I accept your apology," he said. "Here's mine. I'm sorry I got you so upset. That wasn't my intention. It's just . . ." He sighed softly. "Sarah Jane, you've been hurt enough. I don't like seein' you get hurt again, because I love you more than my life. This situation has plenty of variables for pain and misunderstanding in it. I'd rather not see you take it on, but if it's your choice, then okay. We'll deal with things as they come up." He took a breath. "I promise not to make executive decisions if you'll do the same."
Without a word Sarah put her hand to his cheek and returned his kiss. Gene felt the softness of her lips on his and savored the little shock of delight he always knew when she did this.
"Kiss and make up is the best part of this," he said when the kiss ended. She gave his cheek a caress.
"Yeah, it is," she said, her smile a glimmer in the soft darkness. "There are a few leftover cookies. I saved them for you."
"Eeeexcellent," he said, and Sarah laughed a little.
An hour later Gene stood in front of the TV with cold beer in hand. The lamps in the windows glowed, their soft light added to the bright blaze from the fireplace.
"Lady and gentlemen," he said, "welcome to the seventh annual showing of our favorite Christmas movie—"
"Your favorite movie," Sarah said loudly. Gene ignored her.
"—so by popular demand, without further ado I give you . . ." He started the DVD with a flourish. "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians." He moved to the couch and dropped into a spot beside Sarah as she rolled her eyes and groaned.
"Good grief," Wilson said. "That dreck is on disc now?" He propped his feet on the coffee table and snagged a bowl of popcorn.
"Hey, it's got Pia Zadora in it," House said. Gene nodded his head.
"Exactly," he said. He and House saluted each other with their beers. Gene noted House's gaze didn't slide away; it stayed steady for just a moment, a silent flicker of apology in his vivid gaze. Gene dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment and knocked back some Yuengling. It tasted like heaven after a day filled with bitter coffee and greasy fast food. We'll see how things go, he thought. He wasn't quite ready to let House off so easily, but he didn't want to start a feud either. He'd observe how things progressed over the next couple of days.
"Nice. She's all of six years old," Sarah said with considerable sarcasm. "Way to go, guys."
"Yeah, you perverts," Wilson said, and almost dumped the popcorn bowl as House pushed his legs off the coffee table.
For the next hour and a half the comments and snark flew, as beer and snacks were consumed in prodigious amounts. As usual Sarah fell asleep halfway through, her head on his shoulder. Gene was tired as well, but he enjoyed this ritual too much to give it up for a little extra rest. Besides, he could sleep in. Sarah rarely did, she liked to be up early to do stockings and make cinnamon rolls for breakfast, but she would catnap later in the day and he would make sure she got plenty of extra sleep on the weekend. He slipped his arm around her waist and breathed in the warm sweet smell of her, familiar and yet still exotic. Her thick curls sparked in the flickering light of the fire, auburn and roan, copper and bay all mixed together. He never tired of the array of colors; they were as much a part of her personality as her smile and her silver laugh.
Once the movie was over Gene switched to satellite and tossed the remote to House. "Newbie's privilege," he said, "No porn, but anything else is fine."
House thumbed through the choices and settled for a Firefly marathon on the Science Channel. Gene finished off his beer and listened to House and Wilson trade snark, amused at and familiar with the male mindset behind the comments. On his schedule, it was a rare night when he got the chance to hang out with guys. He'd hoped to have another evening with his younger brothers in Nebraska earlier in the week, but it hadn't been possible. This was the next best thing and he was going to enjoy it while he could.
Eventually the lateness of the hour took its toll. Wilson was the first to leave. "Okay, I'm done," he said, and got to his feet. He saluted and turned toward the stairs, a bit unsteady after several beers, but still able to move in the right direction. "'night."
They watched him make his way to the second floor. Silence fell, punctuated only by the muted sounds of special effects violence from the television.
"Your wifey talked with me this afternoon," House said at last. Gene looked at him in mild surprise. He didn't think the man volunteered personal information very often. There had to be an ulterior motive for this comment.
"So you know about the offer," he said. "What do you plan to do?"
"I'd . . . I'd like to accept. But only if you're not going to beat me to a pulp every time my shrink and I have difficulties." There was a touch of defiance in the statement, but it was obviously sincere. There was something else behind it too, something Gene knew all too well himself; the sound of someone who'd endured more than his share of beat-downs. His resentment faded a bit. He didn't push for it all to go away; it would in time, but for now, a little was the best he could do.
"I won't." Gene eased his arm around Sarah. She stirred a bit and snuggled into him. "When I was a kid my old man smacked my mom around on a regular basis," he said softly, and kept his voice low. He didn't want Sarah to be a part of this conversation if he could help it. This was between him and House. "There was nothing I could do about it. When someone causes my wife trouble or pain, I have a hard time being reasonable."
House looked away. "Ah." He fidgeted. "I didn't want her fired. That was . . . unexpected."
"I could have told you the old farts at Mayfield have no sense of humor," Gene said dryly.
House snorted. "Bastards." He rubbed his thigh with an absent gesture; his lean fingers moved lightly over the gully just visible under the fabric of his jeans. "I . . . I really want to work with her."
"Then do it and don't fuck around," Gene said. He didn't make it a direct confrontation, but it wasn't just a comment either. He gently set Sarah aside and got to his feet, then gathered her up in his arms. She stirred and yawned.
"I c'n walk," she mumbled, and lay her cheek to his shoulder. Gene nodded at House.
"Good night," he said. "Bank the fire down before you go, if you would. See you later this morning." He turned away and left his guest to the quiet darkness of the empty living room.
When they reached the bedroom Gene lowered Sarah to the bed. She blinked and yawned, stretched a bit, felt around for the blanket. Gene pushed her hands down gently and removed her sweater. He eased her arms out, then her head. She yawned again and smiled up at him, her sleepy face flushed and beautiful in the firelight. "I c'n do the rest," she said, her soft voice not much more than a murmur.
So he left her while he banked the fire and replaced the screen, shucked off his own clothes and put on a tee shirt and flannel bottoms, and brushed his teeth. By the time he returned to the bed, her jeans and bra had joined her sweater in a little heap on the floor, and she wore one of his tee shirts. She opened the bedclothes so he could climb in, and turned toward him as he moved close to her.
"Heard you talkin' with Greg," she said. "Give him a little time. He doesn't know what to think or do right now."
"Yeah, I know." Gene tucked a curl behind her ear. "He'd better not be fuckin' around, that's all."
"Give him some time," she said again, and pulled the sheets and quilt up over her head. Gene chuckled.
"Little hothouse flower," he said, and kissed the top of her head. "Get some sleep. You'll be up in a few hours."
"I don't know what you're talkin' about." She snuggled a little closer. "'night. Love you."
"Love you too," he said, and closed his eyes as he eased his arm around her waist and settled in.