Christmas at the Riverview Inn

This is goodbye, she told herself, because it didn’t really feel like it. It felt like a second chance and she needed to remind herself it wasn’t.

She blinked open her eyes and saw the fire was nothing but embers and bright sunlight was coming in through the big windows.

The sun was out. And long, long icicles were dripping from the roof down to the snow-covered ground. The mountains were blanketed in white.

She heard a very discreet cough, and her eyes flew to the edge of the fireplace closest to the door.

Patrick.

Patrick, who walked to the lodge early to light the fires every morning in the winter. He stood there in his thick deerstalker cap and his red and black checked winter jacket. He was pink-cheeked from the snow. Or from finding his granddaughter naked on the couch with a man who had once been like a grandson to him.

Oh god, please just let me die.

“The storm stopped around seven a.m.,” he said. “It’s nearly nine now. Unless you want everyone to know your business, you might think about getting up.” Then he started to blush. The tips of his ears got red. “I’ll give you some privacy.” He walked toward the kitchen and she immediately elbowed Cameron in the chest.

“Ouch,” he said, keeping his eyes shut and trying to pull her back into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nearly nine and the storm stopped two hours ago.”

His eyes popped open. “Shit. Is anyone here yet?”

“Patrick,” she all but wailed.

“Okay. Okay,” he said. They threw off the blanket and in the chilly air of the lodge they scrambled into their clothes. She covered her torn shirt with an old flannel shirt of Max’s that she found in the closet.

“I’ve gotta go to the bathroom,” she said. “Can you…?” She waved a finger over the empty wine bottle and the glasses and the remains of the demolished cheese boat. Condoms. There were condoms in that mess, too.

“I got it,” he said, and she ran for the stairs. As she hit the second floor landing she thought she heard him say her name, but when she turned he was already gathering up the mess and walking away from her.

CAMERON

He took a deep breath before walking into the kitchen. Cameron was a full-grown adult and so was Josie, but that didn’t make getting caught naked by a man he’d always considered a grandfather any easier.

He pushed open the door and found the old man standing at the coffee machine, watching as it gurgled and hissed.

“Hi Patrick,” Cameron said.

“Hello Cameron.” Patrick turned with a sparkle in his eye and Cameron found himself smiling.

“Probably not what you were expecting?” Cameron asked.

“Cam, I’ve been making the fire in this lodge every morning for years now and I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve caught some family member naked.”

“So nothing special then?”

“Well, I didn’t say that.” Patrick handed Cameron a mug.

Cameron set down the remnants of last night and took the coffee.

“I’m not supposed to have the high-octane stuff,” Patrick said. “But I figure if no one is here to see me, maybe it doesn’t count.”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

“Probably not.” Patrick took a sip of the brew made from Alice’s very good beans and smacked his lips with delight. “So?” he asked.

“So?” Cameron echoed, looking for the milk because Patrick made his coffee like tar.

“So that’s how you’re going to play this?” Patrick asked. “Like it’s no big deal?”

“There’s no other way to play it,” Cameron said.

“Says who?”

A thousand things rushed to his lips, but it was the truth that slipped out. “Josie.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “You made your move then?” he asked. “Stated your case.”

“It’s not that easy.”

Patrick nodded sagely and took another sip of coffee before he set it down. “Well, I can’t tell you your business,” he said. “I wouldn’t even pretend to know. But I will tell you what wasn’t easy…for me.” He pressed a gnarled hand to his chest, the wedding ring gleaming brightly against his wrinkled skin and oversized knuckles. A workingman’s hand with a ring he’d never taken off.

“Yeah?” Cameron asked.

“All those years me and Iris spent apart. Because I’d convinced myself it was too hard to figure out how to get back together. How to forgive her. And help the boys forgive. How to forgive myself. It was all too hard. And I’d give everything I have for just one of those days back that we wasted. Because what’s hard is loving someone when they’re not here to be loved.”

“Patrick,” Cameron said. “We were kids when I loved her. It’s not the same.”

“Yeah. You were kids. But even then we knew what you two were. What you meant to each other. And maybe you are just friends. But I gotta tell you, son…” When Patrick called him son it didn’t rankle like it did with Max. “I have not once gotten naked with one of my friends like you did with Josie.” He waggled his old man eyebrows. “I’ve got to go make a fire. If someone comes, you made that coffee.”