CHAPTER 14 - CHRISTMAS CODA
She opened her eyes, reluctantly awake. It had been coming for a while, consciousness slowly rising, putting a nose into the world, and then sinking back into oblivion. But she could sense it happening, every rise getting a little closer to emergence, every sink a little harder to embrace. It was inevitable that at some point, consciousness would shed the clutches of her sister unconscious, and demand attention. And it had just happened.
Her body lay still, shrouded in the warm blankets. Her eyes might have been open, but there was no need to move just yet. She studied the dark wooden panels of the roof above her, simple and understated yet solid, dependable. Her first conscious breath, a recognition of need to acknowledge the new day. In a moment her senses were alert, taking in a multiplicity of things in the cocooned world around her.
That musky, earthy scent, the smell of a night's sleep, of bodies ranged in comfort. It wasn't unpleasant, in fact it was more than that, it denoted comfort and family. She remembered her nana's house had that smell, a lived-in smell that pervaded and told her she was home. But there was a note here that had not been present in that beloved grandparent memory. Something was new, or not new, but more recent…not as strong as it should be...
Golden blonde strands shifted on the cream-colored pillow as she turned her head, seeking out what was missing. The smell had alerted her, and her eyes confirmed it. The body that had lain so close by her side all night had gone. There was a significant space, an emptiness that at the same time was filled, a full space, a real space. It contained the essence of her, though she was gone.
In her place, on a pillow the twin of her own, was a white lilly, its delicate petals stretching toward her hand, inviting a caress. Soft hairs of the flower tickled her fingertips, nature's kiss. Around the stem was a carefully wrapped piece of light card, bound by a glittering yellow ribbon. Unwrapped, it presented its gift:
The light called and I answered
Tiptoes frozen on a hardwood floor
Brushing past a curtain layered
Departing unseen past a guilty door
I sit now on a ground unknown
Pen to paper in a different world
To the ends of the earth I will have flown
From the love I left in bedclothes curled
As darkness falls, I will return
To you an offering of silence owed
And as the logs in hearth do burn
In your arms, will shed my load
Brittany sighed, smiled, then chuckled deep in her chest. "My writer," she murmured in amusement. They hadn't discussed it, this little excursion of creativity, and in the winter cold she might have worried. But Santana had learned her limits in the time they'd spent together, and she wouldn't stray beyond the places they knew. In the meantime, Brittany settled back against the pillows, spreading her long limbs across the bed and feeling every nook and cranny of space. This was hers…'ours,' she thought happily.
Time passed. The Lioness didn't care how long. She was hibernating and nothing would drag her out before she was ready. Except that…a new scent. This was one that actually caused her to raise her head, eagerly seeking its source. Cinnamon. Warm dough rising. In a moment the heavy covers were thrown back and Brittany's lithe limbs launched her forward to the kitchen, where she found another offering. Cinnamon buns from the oven, cooling on a platter and ready for tasting. Beside them was placed a dark green mug with hot chocolate cocoa powder awaiting the water and milk that would give it life. Brittany flicked on the switch for the water jug to boil and took her first good look around the wide room.
Glowing hot embers in the fireplace demanded the attention of the fat wooden logs in the basket next to it. They greedily began consuming the fuel as Brittany added it, building slowly to a toasty warmth throughout the cabin. As the water jug bubbled she took in the cold winter light shining in cracks from behind closed curtains, her beloved books lining the walls, the door leading to the bathroom where, in candlelight, she had made love with Santana in deep, hot, soap-sudded bathwater the night before. She shuddered slightly, her skin breaking out in goosebumps, as she replayed those memories.
It didn't take long to shift her gaze to her favorite feature, the mid-size tree sitting happily in a bucket filled with wooden logs around the base, holding its proud stem aloft. She drifted across the carpet to it, inhaling deeply of its natural scent, feeling the rush of memories long ago that came floating to her mind. Her fingers stretched out, lightly experiencing the gentle prick of pine needles, the sensation as they brushed along her palm. Tinsel glittered in the light of the fire, ornaments of all shapes and sizes poking faces from hiding places to say hello. A delighted smile crept across Brittany's face, almost unnoticed.
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A whicker, shifting hide, a body heaving to its feet. Brittany waited as shaky steps brought a shuddering foal towards her, carefully watched by its mother in the deeper darkness of the stall. It had been four hours since the Lioness had awoken, four hours without Santana and the absence was starting to ache. In a way she almost resented it, this need for the other woman that made her restless even when she had every reason to be content. She had never been needy before. It was embarrassing…and essential. When Santana was with her, she felt whole.
So, as a distraction, she sought out other warm bodies, visiting Artemis and her foal Pollux, a late addition to the ranch's herd but now growing nicely. Brittany perched on the stable step, bringing her face to a level with Pollux's bowing head. Unlike most young horses, Pollux wasn't shy. Brittany had been his since birth and the familiarity between them was indissoluble. Leaning his long face over her right shoulder, he nibbled softly at her ear as his warm body pressed into her embrace. She giggled, then pushed him away to walk over and greet Artemis. Only a slight snort was the animal's acknowledgement before she returned to the much more interesting activity of munching hay. Brittany didn't hold it against her. She stroked the coarse hide for a few minutes, letting the relative silence soak into her skin, before returning into the cabin.
'Music, I need music,' she thought. Grabbing a remote she switched on the stereo, releasing the melodious notes to flow quietly into the air. 'I'm not going to sing,' Brittany promised herself, but couldn't stop the hum that arose every now and again as songs reached their familiar refrains.
With music as motivation, she was ready to face the open air. Wrapping a heavy blanket around her shoulders for warmth, she stepped lightly to the front door, opened it slowly and winced as a harsh white light assaulted her vision. Blinking her streaming eyes, she took a deep breath, coughed once at the flood of cold filling her lungs, and stepped onto the porch.
Brittany never tired of the view in this valley, but winter produced a particularly spectacular vision. The wide, swift flowing river that cut its way through the rows of trees had solidified, its icy surface now a slippery crystal white. 'If only I could ice-skate,' the Lioness thought ruefully. The normally exceptionally coordinated woman turned into a jelly puddle on small moveable objects such as skates or metal blades. She wasn't suicidal!
Beyond the surface of the river ran trees coated in glorious white, their seasonal gowns collectively dazzling her eyes. And in between her vision and those objects, filling the air, were tiny flakes of snow. They fell everywhere, coating and disappearing and coating again. It was poetry. Each flake was the softest diamond, the rarest pearl, a thing of exceptional beauty that defied description.
And then there was gold. A flash on the edge of her vision. Turning her head she looked harder and wished for a moment that the snowflakes would clear. Something was moving out there, and the thrill running down her spine gave her a sense of what she would see. It had been two years and more since that encounter by the lake, the full moon reflecting itself on the surface. Since then, through her convalescence, through Santana's patience and care, into her almost miraculous recovery, the animal whose image and name she bore had never returned, or at least not that she had seen. But here, among the falling pearls, the lioness was back.
Flitting among the trees on the edge of the frozen river, the large cat slinked close to the ground. Sometimes she paused, as if looking for something, at other moments disappearing from view. Brittany sucked in air, realizing she had been holding her breath. Finally, as if sensing her yearning, the lioness broke cover and approached the ice, stopping at its edge and raising her heavy head. Their gazes caught, the woman and the animal, in greeting.
Brittany felt as it she wanted to cry, but that didn't seem appropriate. Now, as it had been over two years ago, she desired to know how she could approach, commune with the lioness in some way. But nothing suggested itself that might not drive the animal away. She watched as the head lifted further and, across the flake-riven sky, came strange sounds. There were chirps, whistles, and gentle rumblings. It was unlike anything Brittany would have expected from a large cat, but by the open mouth of the lioness and the sheer unusualness of the correspondence, it could have come from nowhere else. She listened intently to this language that she didn't understand, but that bound her to the animal opposite.
She didn't know when the notes moved into a lower register and died away, but she felt the encroaching silence in its absence, crowding in on her ears, almost roaring. As the lioness turned and treaded heavily back into the trees and out of sight, Brittany felt warmth starting at the small of her back and spreading through her body to every extremity. The cold was banished and she sat stunned, motionless, just feeling.
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She had no concept of how long she sat there, on the porch with the snowflakes falling all around her, listening to the silence and the echo of the lioness. But the light was failing, and her awareness of the surroundings was returning. The warmth in her body had dissipated; she was cold again.
Rising to her feet, Brittany stretched languidly, the blanket falling from her shoulders as she did so. Music continued to play through the open doorway.
Movement again. This time from the direction of the road leading out of the valley. Decidedly human. And definitely hers. The Lioness was off and running in an instant, bounding down the steps and along the uneven pathway, sure-footed and swift. Within seconds she had caught Santana up in her arms, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around with a spontaneous joy she rarely showed. Santana was breathless when she finally regained her feet. The raven-haired beauty's cheeks shone red in the cold Montana air.
Brittany's arms had not left her waist after putting the Latina down, and now drew her close, seeking the smaller woman's lips with her own.
"I missed you," Santana murmured happily against her mouth.
"Not as much as I missed you," Brittany grinned, her ice blue eyes flashing. "Come on, let's get you warm. You must be freezing. What possessed you to go out writing on a day like this?"
Santana just shrugged lightly. She knew she didn't have to explain. Brittany knew her quirks all too well.
Entering the cabin, they closed the door and Santana sank gratefully into the couch by the fire as Brittany stoked it with more large logs of wood. Despite Santana's protests, she moved next to the kitchen to cook up a chicken stir-fry with fresh vegetables in a light sauce. The delicious smells filled the room and the hissing of the pan almost drowned out the music emanating from the stereo. Santana dozed as Brittany cooked. The Lioness's heart swelled with every glance she allowed herself towards the Latina.
Filling two plates high with piping-hot food, she carried them across the room, rousing Santana with a gentle peck on the cheek. They sat on either end of the couch, watching each other as they ate, comfortable in the other's gaze. The fire popped and crackled behind Brittany's shoulder.
She could feel Santana's contentment. As the smaller woman lowered her empty plate to the ground and sighed, Brittany couldn't restrain herself. She leaned forward, grabbed her by the wrist, and drew her full length down on top of herself, nestling Santana within her long arms. The Latina murmured as she kissed the woman beneath her, slow and deep and passionate. Brittany massaged her back, drowning down her length and back again.
Resting her head on Brittany's shoulder, her lips against the Lioness's neck, she whispered, "I love you."
Brittany thrilled at those words. It was as though someone had switched a light bulb on directly above her head, showering her with golden rays. Any residual heaviness lifted from her heart, and it soared, singing into the winter night, filling the cabin. Her eyes closed, as though she couldn't bear the happiness, and when they opened her sight was filled with glittering tinsel.
Shifting so that Santana drew away from her body, Brittany took her warm hand and drew her to the pine tree. Kneeling down among the presents carefully wrapped and placed, small treasure boxes, Brittany put her head on the ground underneath the outspread branches and flipped a switch on the wall next to her. In an instant, bright lights of different colors glowed with life, their rays reflected on her smiling face. She gazed up into the dark green and inhaled. The pine scent encompassed her senses and she closed her eyes, enjoying the play of the lights on the backs of her eyelids. She felt Santana slide in beside her, lay her arm over her waist and press her soft body into her side.
"Every year I'm thankful I get to do this with you."
Brittany hummed. "I know. But even if I wasn't here…" she hesitated, "I'd always be with you. You'd know I was there. You'd feel me."
Santana's lips played a soft tune under her ear.
"Merry Christmas, my Lioness."
"Merry Christmas," Brittany whispered back.