The mid December rain hit the windshield as Shannon drove towards the school, the cold grey sky dampening her spirits as much as the rain soaked her car. The little sports car cornered easily as she turned onto the next street. Boone was in a bit of an overworked panic, what with all the Christmas orders, and had sent her to pick Andrew up after school.
In her endeavour to find something constructive to do with her time, she'd started to promote Boone's side business, her results even more successful than either of them could have imagined. She'd gotten him several catering jobs and the word of mouth had spread from there. Though completely untrained, he had a natural flair for cooking, though he preferred baking, and had asked her to focus more on that. He'd even taken a cake decorating course at a local skill sharing workshop.
She was looking forward to Andrew's Christmas vacation time. They'd bonded even more since summer. She'd actually come to enjoy conversing with the boy, so much older than his nine years. Boone had done an amazing job with him while she'd been gone, not that she'd doubted him for a second. He'd raised such a great kid.
She pulled up at the curb in front of the school, only just a few minutes late. He came running out the front door, pelting through the downpour, his yellow slicker standing out against the depressing monochromatic colours caused by the overcast sky.
He pulled the door open. "Hey Shan," he greeted her, sliding into the seat, putting his backpack on the floor between his feet.
"Hey." She responded, checking her mirrors and pulling away. "So how were the huddled masses today?"
"I wish dad'd let them skip me again. I so want out of this place. They're all so juvenile, at lunch today, Pete put pudding in Laura's hair. What's up with that? Why did they all find it so funny? Well all of them except Laura." He shrugged.
"I don't know, bud. We can talk to Boone again if you want, but he seems pretty determined. Even if he does let them move you ahead, it'll still be a couple of years till you can go to high school. Why don't you wait till the end of this year? Maybe when you're ten he'll reconsider. He doesn't do it to be mean; he's just concerned about how different you already are." She didn't really get her brother's objections to fast tracking their son a little quicker, if she was Andrew, she'd want to get out of grade school as quickly as possible as well.
"Yeah, I guess." He allowed. "What'd you get him for Christmas?"
"A new leather jacket, some of those deadly dull non-fiction books he likes to read, oh, and I found one of those vintage Beatles' tee-shirts he loves, I ordered it from e-bay, it should be here any day now. And some new jeans, after last week he's going to need them." She laughed and shook her head at the memory; he was such a clumsy oaf. "What about you?"
"Well…that's what I need to talk to you about." He answered hesitantly. She glanced away from the road for a second, curious. "I got him a snowboard."
The car swerved slightly into the oncoming lane, thankfully there was no opposing traffic. "He'll break his fucking neck, are you nuts?" She pulled the car back between the yellow lines. Just last week she'd been in the kitchen when she'd heard the crash and thud from the hall. She'd rushed out to find Boone lying on the carpet, a small curio table in splinters, all the items it had displayed in pieces around him. She'd idly wondered how old the table had been, almost none of the furniture in the house had been chosen by them, having come with the place when they'd bought it. Her favourite piece was the queen sized sleigh bed in their bedroom. When she'd asked him what had happened he'd just shrugged and said he'd tripped, looking extremely embarrassed. As he'd sat up, she'd picked pieces of potpourri out of his hair.
"Shit." He'd exclaimed looking down at his right calf. The right leg, why was it always the right leg? There was a three inch piece of glass protruding through the denim of his jeans, a blood stain spreading.
"Jesus Christ, Boone." She'd stared at the offending object while he reached down; grimacing as he'd pulled it out.
"Would you get me a towel, please? I don't want to bleed all over the carpet; I'll never be able to get the stain out." He'd asked as he clamped his hand down over the site.
She'd run to the kitchen grabbing a towel and returned to him. While she was gone he'd pulled his pant leg up and had his hand wrapped around his calf, the blood seeping through his fingers. Boone had removed his hand just long enough to press the fabric of the towel against the wound. She'd caught a glimpse of it, a three inch incision, bleeding freely.
"You're going to need stitches in that you know." She'd commented.
"No, no fucking way. I am not going to a hospital. You'll just have to tape it up for me." He'd dismissed her observation, knowing full well that she was right, but still unwilling to seek medical attention. He didn't trust any doctors except Jack anyway, once a guy brought you back from the dead, you tended to have faith in him.
She'd managed to tape it up pulling the sides of the wound together, eventually stopping the bleeding. He'd cursed about the ruined pants; they'd been his favourites, before clearing up the mess he'd caused.
"He's not that bad. And I figured if he took lessons he'd get it down pretty quick. He's great at following instructions, and you know what a perfectionist he is." Andrew jumped to Boone's defence.
"I guess," Shannon answered, still more than a bit skeptical. "So why'd you want to talk to me about it? Wait, where the hell's he gonna go snowboarding around here?"
"Well, that's the part I needed you for. I figured we could all go away on a ski vacation." He threw the idea out.
"There's no way we're going to get him to go away now, he's up to his ass in baking." She'd woken at 3 a.m. last night to find herself in bed alone and had padded down the back stairs looking for him. She'd found Boone in the commercial kitchen, dressed only in a tee-shirt and boxers, sneakers on his bare feet, slicing apples, spice bottles opened, one of them overturned, the industrial mixer churning out yet another batch of pie crust. He'd started browning some ground meat for tortieres, and had pie pans lined up on a side counter. She'd taken a deep breath in exasperation and had turned everything off, pulling him, protesting all the way, back to bed. She'd snuggled up against him, burying her nose in the cinnamon scented strands of his hair.
"No, I didn't mean for Christmas vacation. I know there's no way I'd get him out of the kitchen just now. I figured we would go for March break." He clarified.
Shannon smiled at the idea. She hadn't been skiing in years, the last time had been three years ago in St. Moritz, and she wasn't sure Boone ever had, she tried to remember if there'd ever been a school trip to Tahoe that he'd gone on.
"I like it." She nodded in agreement. "You're a smart kid, great idea. So you need me why?"
"I've got everything prearranged on the web, but I need a credit card number, and I only have Boone's. He doesn't think I need my own separate account, I've got a card, but it's still his account. I don't want it to appear on one of his statements, you know how he logs on and checks them every day. Do you have one that he's not going to look at till after Christmas?" Andrew asked hopefully.
"I think I can arrange something. Where were you planning on taking us?" Shannon was amused that her nine-year old son was planning a family vacation. She knew he had the money for it, he was as careful with a dollar as Boone was.
"Aspen." He provided tentatively.
"Aspen?" Shannon laughed that it was both so close and still far enough away that they'd have to fly. "You're going to get Boone on a plane for a vacation?" He'd never had a problem with flying before the crash, but having seen his reaction to having to fly to Pittsburgh this past summer, she knew he had one now. She'd never actually been on a plane with him since the crash, but could easily picture the total spaz attack he probably pitched. "Okay, kiddo, let's deal. I do this for you and you get to sit next to him on the flight. I'd rather it be your arm he crushes than mine."
"Deal." Andrew spat in his palm and held his hand out for her to shake. It was a private joke they shared, Boone would have had a fit if he knew they did something he'd find so gross and disgusting. She took her right hand off the wheel, spit in it as well, and shook on it.
Returning home, they found Boone sitting at the kitchen table holding his head in his hands, the phone and a pad of paper on the table in front of him.
"Hey, baby, what's wrong?" She kissed him. Andrew just looked concernedly at his father, he'd gotten used to how intimate they were with each other; it didn't skeeve him out at all anymore when they kissed or caressed each other in front of him. Actually he found it somewhat reassuring, it was kind of cool having two parents again after all the years alone with just Boone, their obvious love for one another encouraging his fervent hope that she wasn't going to disappear again, and send his father back off the deep end.
"Four dozen, they want four dozen more, what am I going to do? I can barely keep up as it is, stupid church sales, stupid Christmas, whatever happened to people doing their own baking?" Boone cried.
"Boone, is the word "No" simply not in your vocabulary? Christ you're a patsy." She shook her head.
"Well you'd know all about that now wouldn't you?" He shot back bitterly, still absorbed in his dilemma.
"Jesus, that was ten years ago, move on, get over yourself." Shannon dismissed his attempt to dredge up the past.
"Boone, why not just hire some help?" Andrew asked his dad, it seemed like the perfect solution. And it meant that Boone would finally jet back a little, he always got so overstressed before the holidays.
"I just might have to. God, but I don't want other people messing around in my kitchen." He sighed.
After Andrew went to bed that night, she came back down to the kitchen, finding him sitting in the same chair he'd been in that afternoon, he'd turned it sideways to the table, obviously deep in thought.
Shannon watched him for a bit, just taking in the line of his jaw, his hair curling around his ear, the slight flush of his cheeks. "Boone?"
"Hmmmm?" he continued to stare into space.
"I love you, you know." She moved to stand in front of him, as he frowned up at her.
"I know that." He smiled. "Where's this coming from?"
"I just don't think I say it enough." Shannon reached out and ran her fingers through his hair.
"They're only words, anyone can say them, but I know you really mean them though, I feel it every minute of every day." He closed his eyes briefly and ghosted his mind across hers, sharing his own love for her with her. She shuddered at the depth of it.
"Come here," Boone pulled her into his lap. She sat down straddling him, and kissed him, circling her arms around him neck. "So, Jacques Pepin, what have you decided?"
"I called Terry, to see if he can work some time in around school hours, he's coming in tomorrow afternoon. I'll have to see if I can work with him. I would have called Shelly, but I figured I'd get along better with a guy than a chick." He didn't look happy about having to ask for help, he hated appearing dependent.
She wasn't sure about his logic there; he wasn't exactly the most macho guy, and it was baking, she'd just assumed he go for a female assistant. "It'll work out, but hon, you have to start saying no if it's too much. I know how much you don't want to disappoint people, but there's only so much Boone Carlyle to go around, and I want as much of it as I can get, in fact, I think right now," she started working her hips against him, "I'd like one hundred percent."
"I have more work to do." Boone protested.
"Yes, you do," she slid her hand down between them.
"Shannon, stop." His eye lids fluttered, threatening to close, as her hand brushed over the zipper of his jeans.
"Okay," she moved to get off him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her in tighter, rising from the chair and carrying her up the back stairs, her ankles linked behind his back.