Blooming
A new year brings freshness to the world and a start of all things new.
"I'm quite sure that you're supposed to pluck off a berry each time a kiss is given and once the mistletoe has no more berries then the kisses must stop," Bog murmurs.
"Are you saying that you want the kisses to stop?" Marianne questions with a giggle.
With a huff, Bog pulls the giggling female against his taller form and silences her with a deeper kiss. He quickly plucks the dangling plant from the overhead cabinet and places it into his pants pockets. Far be it from him not to get a few tricks in himself.
"I'm just saying what is traditional," he corrects once he releases the dazed woman. "Now, as I was saying before you played a fairy game, tomorrow is another community dinner."
"Sombreville sure loves their community dinners," Marianne comments.
"Mom says it's a way for mothers to make sure their bachelor sons are eating properly at least a few times out of the year," Bog chuckles. "It's actually true since most of the youngish residents don't eat a proper meal each day thanks to a hectic work schedule."
He grins at Marianne's laugh and pointed look and continues his task of washing their breakfast dishes. Only a week and it felt like she has always been by his side, cooking with him and drying the dishes he just washed. Of course, the added bonus of Dawn's Christmas gift definitely spices things up with a surprise kiss every so often and he didn't mind those kissing boughs dispersed around town so much anymore.
"So, what's the agenda for today? Do you need to go to work?" Marianne asks.
"Not today. It's kind of a day for everyone to relax between the holiday rush and the business of the new year. Though, most of us usually clean our houses on New Year's Eve," he mentions. "It's a lot easier since Foret Lodge gets a thorough cleaning once the spring thaw starts and it'd be too much to do it all at the same time."
"You don't have to ignore your usual activities on my account, Bog," she remarks. "I'm quite sure I told you that before."
Bog freezes at the slight warning in her tone and a shiver races up his spine. His mind offers him a vivid reminder of the feisty girl's temper from their argument a few days ago when he had mentioned about taking off work while she was in town. It wasn't as if he is trying to be irresponsible, he just wanted to be with her while she was here but she had made it clear in no uncertain terms that she respected him for who he was and if he tried to be someone that he wasn't then he would become someone that she didn't know.
It's nice that she views him with high regard but he still feels like sulking about the events that happened next. The argument, or more precisely Marianne's rebuke, had unfortunately taken place in city hall and Griselda had been nearby. After cackling at the sight of her tall son cowering in front of the five-foot-four woman, the mother put her two-cents in and carted the younger woman off for a girls' day.
He's still too terrified to inquire what that all entitled since Thang reported that both Stuff and Plum had accompanied the pair.
"I wasn't planning to," he defends, holding his soapy hands up. "I figured that I could drive you to Mom and Dad's to get your car and you could spend the day at the ski resort if you liked."
"And if I wanted to help you clean? It'll get done much faster that way," she comments.
"Ah...I mean, if you want to...well, that is...you really want to help me clean my house?" Bog stammers. "It is your vacation, wouldn't you rather do something fun?"
"I think spending time with you is very fun," Marianne purrs, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I have to go back home next week and I want to spend as much time with you as I can, as long as it doesn't interfere with your life here."
"Even cleaning my house?" he questions incredulously.
"Even cleaning your house," she repeats. "Besides, the faster that it is done then the faster we can do something more enjoyable...like sleighing."
"You just like me for my horses," Bog accuses, smirking at her laughter.
"You need a garage," Marianne grouses.
"So I've been told," Bog mutters, sighing as his back snaps.
Her own stretching to relieve her back's complaints keeps her from enjoying the sight of Bog's lean body stretching but she too sighs in relief once the tension leaves. Everything was going fine. Kitchen, bathroom, Bog's office, both bedrooms, and even the attic were swept, wiped down, and organized in quick order with both of them working together but then came the living room.
First order of business was to undecorate the Christmas tree and return the plant outside before it started thinking that spring had come early. The problem was that moving it directly outside might send the hibernating plant into cold shock and the only solution is to move it to an unheated outside building. That, however, presented a problem itself with the fact that the only outside building that Bog has on his property is the barn. A trip made harder by nearly three feet of snow and a potted plant that must be carted because it's too heavy to be carried.
"Maybe we should have moved the tree after we cleaned the living room or hitched one of the horses to pull this thing into the barn," Marianne murmurs.
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," Bog chuckles.
"So what's going to happen to the tree now that Christmas is over?" she questions.
"I'll take it back to Thomas once it's done acclimatizing and he'll put it back into its place at the Angler's farm," he explains before noticing her confused look. "Oh, I didn't explain it fully, did I? Thomas only sells the live trees as a rental and once it's done bringing joy then it goes back to the field. When a tree gets too big, he usually donates it to the Foret Lodge to be replanted there and in return, he gets to browse through the Fraser firs in the forest for any young ones healthy enough to survive life as a temporary Christmas tree."
"That's really ingenious," Marianne comments. "I can definitely see how that is helping the environment without sacrificing people's joy with Christmas trees. Pity that they don't have something like that in more areas...then again, a two hundred pound tree would probably cause a lot of trouble in an apartment building."
Laughter rings through the air once more as the duo secure the potted tree's position in the tack room before making their way back to the house. The living room soon sparkles with freshness under their cleaning assault and Marianne chuckles as Bog grabs her into an impromptu victory dance over their battlefield. A vicious sound, however, breaks through their merriment.
"What is it?" Marianne asks as Bog checks his beeper.
"There's a multiple vehicle accident," he murmurs. "Grab your coat and I'll drop you off when I pick up Dad."
"How about I stay here? I'll get all this in place while you're gone," she comments.
She watches as Bog worries his jaw as he dons his coat and tries to squash her own worries down. It wasn't that she thought that he didn't trust her, really she didn't, but she didn't want him to think that she is a child to be monitored. One over-sheltering well-meaning man in her life is enough. Finally, he sighs and pulls her into an embrace.
"I might be gone for a few hours and it gets a bit isolating here, especially without transportation," Bog warns. "Are you sure that you'll be fine?"
"I'll be fine," she reassures. "If it gets too much then I'll head to Griselda's."
"That's too far to walk in this weather," he mutters.
"You said that Fairy could be mine whenever I'm here," Marianne reminds. "And I did notice her saddle in the tack room."
"You can ride?" Bog questions in surprise.
"Of course," she remarks, mentally thanking Stuff and her Fell pony. "Now, get out of here and go save lives."
A knee-weakening kiss later, Marianne watches Bog's truck pull out of the driveway and down the snowy lane before turning to face the piled-up furniture. Time to get to work.
Bog sighs as he parks his truck in the driveway and leans his head back after stopping the engine. It's times like these that make the job rough.
"Thank God that no one died, though," he mutters.
Pulling himself out into the cold evening air, he blinks in shock at the lights inside his house before laughing at himself. He couldn't believe that he actually forgot about Marianne staying with him. His humor increases as he grabs his mother's New Year's present off the passenger seat and heads toward the front door, which opens just as he reaches it.
"Just in time for dinner," Marianne announces. "I made country-fried venison steak with potatoes and green beans."
"A guy could get used to this, you know," Bog murmurs, dangling the mistletoe over his head.
He laughs as Marianne drags him inside before pulling him down for a kiss. A tantalizing taste of something sweet makes Bog pull her back into his embrace for another kiss. She definitely doesn't mind if her moan is anything to go by.
"Tastes like...chocolate," he hums.
"I also made dessert, a chocolate mousse," she chuckles. "Griselda might have mentioned that it is your favorite."
"You're spoiling me," Bog warns with a chuckle. "It's going to be even harder letting you go home next week. Let me get the horses fed..."
"I already did that," Marianne admits, blushing at his surprised look. "You were taking so long to get back and well...I hope you don't mind."
"Mind? I might have to lock you in the dungeon so I can keep you," he teases. "I'm going to take a quick shower to get all this grime off. Here's a present from Mom or more precisely from A.C. and Maya. It should be adequately chilled but you better put it on ice to make sure."
"So, that's what was in the box," she murmurs, accepting the bottle. "Griselda mentioned that she received a package from your younger siblings but she said that she'll open it later when you dropped off Loch."
"It's genuine Champagne from France," Bog announces, tapping the label. "The pair must have figured Mom might be more forgiving toward them for missing the holidays if they sent a few bottles along with their souvenirs. Wait, when did you talk to Mom? She didn't mention anything."
"You better get your shower or the food will get cold," Marianne remarks.
Bog chuckles before dutifully obeying the house's new mistress and sighs as the hot water runs over his sore muscles. A few minutes with Marianne and he managed to forget about how tired he is. Such a pity that this won't last much longer.
Shaking the saddening thoughts away, he quickly washes and dries himself before donning his bathrobe from the linen closet. The fresh smell surrounding the plush blue fabric alerts him to Marianne's other activities today and a quick glance into the enclosed laundry hamper reveals the absence of dirty laundry.
"You didn't have to do laundry, too, you know," he comments as he pokes his head into the kitchen.
"You were gone too long," she mutters. "Now, go get dressed or are you planning on eating in your bathrobe?"
Bog doesn't respond to the question verbally and instead sits down while her back is turned. He grins widely as Marianne nearly stumbles as she turns around to place the food on the table.
"You're so bad," she chides, her face a becoming shade of red.
"No, I'm evil," he laughs.
The snapping fire accompanies Bog's tale of the five-car pile-up and the ensuring trouble to get the mess cleaned. What a way to end the year but at least no one was hurt badly. She can tell that the rescue still has Bog a little worn and Marianne curls tighter against his form to comfort him. It's definitely a good thing that she took Fairy to Griselda's for dinner ideas that Bog would love.
"That explains why it took you more than a few hours to finish the job," Marianne comments.
"In a way, it's a good thing that one of our own was involved in the accident because they knew what to do to keep it from being worse but this is getting out of hand," Bog mutters, taking another sip of the Champagne. "This is the worst rental-related accident that we've had and now five cars are headed to the scrap yard. Valeburg can't keep ignoring their problems and pushing them onto us. Every time one of the rentals need the road-side assistance that they paid extra for, the Valeburg garages are always closed or too busy. Especially when there's been an accident."
"But they're not too busy to benefit from the repercussions," she remarks, remembering the pregnant bill from the rental company. "I still can't believe that they tried to blame me for the truck's breakdown. It's terrible that they're the only rental service in the area."
"I'm planning on bringing the matter up at the next town meeting," he comments. "There's not much that we can do but we can try and make Valeburg be held accountable for the bills that result from their carelessness. A hurting pocketbook always seems to make people pay attention. Oh, and before I forget, thanks for fixing my mother's car."
"I thought you said that she didn't tell you anything," Marianne points out.
"I said that she didn't mention talking to you today, not that she didn't tell me anything," Bog corrects. "She did tell me that you looked at her car that day I had to work a few days ago and that she sent Stuff into Valeburg to get the parts you needed to fix it. She was gloating about a phone call from Sam's Garage today about them being able to schedule her in after two months of waiting and her getting to inform them that it's already fixed. In fact, she told me several things before shooing me out of the house abruptly with the bottle of Champagne, saying that it was late and I should get home. Considering that the steak takes a little while to cook, she didn't happen to call here when Dad and I got there, did she? And maybe have agreed to stall me until it was nearly done?"
"Maybe," she admits with a giggle. "So, what else did Griselda tell you that I'd done?"
"About what you've done, not much else. She did mention something that I think we need to have a talk about," he murmurs, moving his attention away from the crackling fire. "It's something that I've been thinking about, too."
Marianne looks up to him at his serious tone before sitting up fully and setting her stemless flute glass on the coffee table. If Griselda mentioned to him something along the lines that the older woman had also discussed with her today then this is definitely not the time to be distracted. Kind of hard to do with Bog's lean and lanky form in his nightclothes but she'll try to manage.
"What is it, Bog?" she questions.
"What are we, Marianne? I know what I want us to be but I need to know what you want us to be," he states seriously.
"That's an easy answer. I'm quite sure that I love you," Marianne murmurs, silencing his beaming smile with a finger. "But we're going to have to take a moment and look at this without feelings. I live hundreds of miles away from here, where I own a business and have a contract-obligated job. We both work like crazy and in only three weeks, we've only managed to talk on the phone seven times. It will be a long-distance relationship with few times of contact and even fewer times of visits."
"I love you, Marianne. Even if we had to resort to writing letters and I go bankrupt from postage stamps, I'd still want to be in a relationship with you," Bog remarks.
Joining his laughter, Marianne grabs the mistletoe from its position on the coffee table and throws it into the fireplace. She laughs more when Bog's confused expression turns surprised when she straddles his lap.
"Why do I need a kissing plant when I have full privileges to kiss my boyfriend whenever I want?" she asks as the cuckoo chimes twelve. "Happy New Year, Bog!"
Tea Blend.