“Which do you believe about your roots?” He watched as she reverently tied the wool scarf around the wolf’s neck. Now it had a human touch and wasn’t just a wolf, but a lupus garou calling the pack together. If he didn’t know any better, CJ would say she was reaching out to the pack, the symbolism so vivid with the wolf wearing her family’s tartan. She and her sisters were welcoming the pack into their space, their home. They were ready to stay. If it wasn’t for the problem with the Wernicke brothers.
“I believe that we are the son of the earth, the wolf, with allegiance to the pack.”
His pack now, he hoped. “Let me take some pictures of you and the wolf.”
“You should be in them too.”
Another car slowed down to see their creation and CJ smiled. Then he realized it was Brett and waved to him to park.
“What are you doing?” Laurel asked.
“It’s Brett. John must have called him to come by and get a really good shot of it before the wind gets to it. He can take a picture of both of us.”
Grinning, Brett got out of his truck and pulled out his camera.
CJ was certain his brother would never have believed he’d be creating snow art after their conversation tonight. He was sure to suspect more was going on between CJ and Laurel.
“Bertha’s husband called and said you needed me to take some pictures of the two of you. Says this has to be the winning snowman of the season.” Brett motioned for the two of them to get closer to each other.
CJ was already standing right next to Laurel, and he couldn’t get any closer.
“We need more energy in the picture,” Brett said.
“Should we both get a snowball and throw it at him?” Laurel asked CJ.
“Great idea, only don’t throw it,” Brett said.
Laurel laughed. They posed a number of ways, including one where CJ wrapped his arms around Laurel and felt her trembling from the cold. He leaned down and kissed her nose, then turned to smile at the camera. “Okay, enough pictures. Laurel’s cold and you’ll take pictures all night long if we let you. You’re as bad as Jake.”
Brett smiled. “Night, folks.” And then he quickly left them alone.
“Do you want some cocoa and cake before you go home?” she asked CJ.
“Yeah, it was the main reason I came over tonight.”
She laughed, and he considered taking her hand as they walked back to her house, but he decided it was time to show her just how much he wanted to be with her, that there were no hard feelings about her comments concerning his father, so he wrapped his arm around her waist. He pulled her close—to warm her up too. She snuggled against him, showing she was just as happy with getting close to him.
He smiled down at her. She was the most beautiful she-wolf in the world: her nose, cheeks, and lips rosy from the cold, her red hair flying in the breeze, her green eyes bright and cheerful. And she didn’t look the least bit sleepy. It was only a little after midnight.
“Do you have anything we could watch while we’re drinking our cocoa and eating our cake?” He wasn’t about to give up the opportunity to spend more quality time with her if she was willing.
“Yeah. How about something…Christmassy?” Laurel asked.
“Sounds good. What did you have in mind?”
She unlocked the door. “I have some oldies—but they’re my favorites: Miracle on 34th Street, It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol, and some others. You choose, and I’ll make the cocoa.” She removed her jacket, took his, and hung them both on a coat rack.
“My brothers and I love A Christmas Story. It reminds us of ourselves when we were that age.”
“Your father didn’t want to give you a BB shotgun because you might shoot your eye out?”
“Nah, back in our day, we grew up with the real thing and used rifles for protection as young as eleven years of age.”
“What part reminds you of your childhood then?”
“Doing something dumb when trying to please Dad and cursing when it went all wrong. Then Mom washing out our mouths with soap.”
Laurel smiled at him as she mixed cocoa into the milk in the saucepan on the stove. “It’s a wonder you didn’t go blind.”
He laughed. “Yeah. So we really love that movie. What about you? Which is your favorite movie and why?”
“Oh, I love all of them. Even The Snowman. You know, that animated one? I could watch it over and over again. I listen to the beautiful music and dream I have a snow buddy like him.”
“Ah, but he was an only child and didn’t have any brothers and sisters.”
“Still, I missed the snow and building snow sculptures.”
“Do you always create wolves? As good as you are at it, you must have made them before.”
She stirred the cocoa. “A few times.”
“Here I thought I was going to be teaching you how to make your first snowman.”
Smiling, she poured cocoa into snowman-decorated mugs. “So what was your favorite gift ever for Christmas?” She sliced off a couple pieces of cake, put the mugs and plates on a red-and-green Christmas-tree platter, and carried it into the living room.
He wanted to say his best Christmas present was that Laurel would be here for the holidays. But what if she didn’t remain here? What if he was moving a little too fast?
“My first rifle,” he said instead.
She shook her head and set the tray on the coffee table. “Men and their guns.”
“Having my first rifle was a sign of manhood. I helped hunt for food and protected my family. What about you? What was your favorite Christmas gift?”
She sat on the sofa and took a bite of her cake while he crossed the floor to start the movie.
“Well, a cloth doll Ellie made me. The button eyes were askew, the hair—her own real hair—shed everywhere until Missy was bald, but she was the most special doll I ever had.”
“Do you still have her?”
“No. In one of our moves, a box was misplaced. I swear Ellie got rid of it because she didn’t want to be reminded of her earlier creations.”
“Does she still make them?”
“No. She made one for Meghan, but she wasn’t into dolls and it disappeared long before that. I think Ellie had something to do with her doll’s disappearance too. She couldn’t get to mine because I kept her with me always, until we moved that one time. Ellie likes to try new things all the time. She never really gets good at anything hobby-wise because she doesn’t spend the time to learn any particular craft.”
“What about yourself? Do you like to make things?”
“Snow wolves?”
“Yeah, that’s sure to be a winner.” He joined her on the couch.
“So what’s the worst Christmas gift you ever got?” she asked.
“Chicken pox.”
She laughed.
He loved hearing her laugh and seeing her happy. This was a much better way of ending the night. “No kidding. And then my brothers all came down with it, but after Christmas. I was the only one lying on the couch, itching to pieces and sicker than a wolf, while everyone was opening gifts.”
“You poor thing.”
“It was the worst Christmas ever for me. I was running a fever, and for the first time ever, I didn’t even want to open gifts. What about you?”
“I don’t think anything could be worse than chicken pox on Christmas, except for measles on Valentine’s Day. I was dating a wolf, but he wouldn’t come near me for Valentine’s Day. And then I guess he felt guilty about it and couldn’t face me, so he didn’t come to see me for a couple of weeks after that. That was it for me. I never saw him again. My choice.”
“Had he ever had measles before?”