Author's Note: Once again, the song Asher Jacobs sings/writes in this
chapter belongs to the very talented (and personal favorite of mine) the
GooGooDolls. It can be found on their album, Gutterflower.
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December 23, 2005, 915 AM, Asher's Childhood Home
Richie awoke to an empty bed. He was only slightly disappointed. From somewhere within the house, he could Asher playing her guitar. He followed the music, finding her in what she had referred to as the front parlor (the house had two parlors, the front parlor and the back parlor), surrounded by cardboard boxes, sitting cross-legged, bent over her instrument.
"You take a lot of chances with your feelings/No one really knows what you feel/And fiction is the only way you're dealing/You turn your pretty head if it gets real /// You take it so slowly/And your eyes look so lonely/And it's only when you think about me/Oh yeah/ When you think about me/You think about me. . ."
When Asher paused in her singing to make some notes in her notebook, Richie took the opportunity to kiss the top of her head. "Morning," he greeted sleepily. "How long you been up?"
"Couple hours," she shrugged. "Coffee should be done. In the kitchen."
Richie disappeared, only to return again with a mug of the steaming brown- black liquid in his hands. "Did you want some?"
"I had some tea earlier. I've been working on the chorus."
"Sounds good. What's with all these boxes?" He swallowed the welcome relief of the coffee.
"Christmas decorations. I found them in the upstairs bedrooms. I thought maybe we could find a tree today, and do some decorating?"
She looked so hopeful, that Richie had to smile. He had the impression that last year's Christmas had been somewhat of a disappointment to her. She still hadn't felt completely comfortable around everyone, and had spoken very little. Not to mention, Duncan had spent most of the holiday sulking, and Amanda and Nick had spent most of the holiday wound around one another. They had had a tree -freshly cut -but little on the decoration side. No tinsel, no lights, no glass balls. Just some old candles and holly berries, left over from the dark ages, no doubt.
"Sounds like fun. Shall we cut our own?"
"We have no choice in that," laughed Asher. "No tree market within a hundred miles from us. If we troop to the hill from last night though, we should find one of perfection."
"You'll allow a tree to be cut down from your precious first love, Asher?" Richie stumbled backwards in mock surprise, sipping some more of his coffee.
"Shut up, Ryan." But she was still laughing. "Just do me a favor, first. Take a shower. You smell."
"Would you join me?"
Asher raised her eyebrow suggestively, before Richie burst into laughter. When he offered his hand to her, she pretended to consider the offer, before lovingly placing her guitar off to the side, and placing her hand into his. They practically ran up the stairs to the bathroom.
December 23, 2005, 915 AM, Asher's Childhood Home
Richie awoke to an empty bed. He was only slightly disappointed. From somewhere within the house, he could Asher playing her guitar. He followed the music, finding her in what she had referred to as the front parlor (the house had two parlors, the front parlor and the back parlor), surrounded by cardboard boxes, sitting cross-legged, bent over her instrument.
"You take a lot of chances with your feelings/No one really knows what you feel/And fiction is the only way you're dealing/You turn your pretty head if it gets real /// You take it so slowly/And your eyes look so lonely/And it's only when you think about me/Oh yeah/ When you think about me/You think about me. . ."
When Asher paused in her singing to make some notes in her notebook, Richie took the opportunity to kiss the top of her head. "Morning," he greeted sleepily. "How long you been up?"
"Couple hours," she shrugged. "Coffee should be done. In the kitchen."
Richie disappeared, only to return again with a mug of the steaming brown- black liquid in his hands. "Did you want some?"
"I had some tea earlier. I've been working on the chorus."
"Sounds good. What's with all these boxes?" He swallowed the welcome relief of the coffee.
"Christmas decorations. I found them in the upstairs bedrooms. I thought maybe we could find a tree today, and do some decorating?"
She looked so hopeful, that Richie had to smile. He had the impression that last year's Christmas had been somewhat of a disappointment to her. She still hadn't felt completely comfortable around everyone, and had spoken very little. Not to mention, Duncan had spent most of the holiday sulking, and Amanda and Nick had spent most of the holiday wound around one another. They had had a tree -freshly cut -but little on the decoration side. No tinsel, no lights, no glass balls. Just some old candles and holly berries, left over from the dark ages, no doubt.
"Sounds like fun. Shall we cut our own?"
"We have no choice in that," laughed Asher. "No tree market within a hundred miles from us. If we troop to the hill from last night though, we should find one of perfection."
"You'll allow a tree to be cut down from your precious first love, Asher?" Richie stumbled backwards in mock surprise, sipping some more of his coffee.
"Shut up, Ryan." But she was still laughing. "Just do me a favor, first. Take a shower. You smell."
"Would you join me?"
Asher raised her eyebrow suggestively, before Richie burst into laughter. When he offered his hand to her, she pretended to consider the offer, before lovingly placing her guitar off to the side, and placing her hand into his. They practically ran up the stairs to the bathroom.