Sleigh Ride
by VATERGrrl
Laura was pulling a chair up to the kitchen counter when Cory and I came downstairs, and I put my hands on the back to stop its forward progress.
"Laura, sweetie, why don't you and Daddy go sit down at the table, and I'll fix the cocoa for you?"
She pouted, looking up at me with big green eyes. "But I wadda helb you."
Hearing her congested little voice, I felt instantly bad about my decision to send her out with Cory that evening after a light dinner just so I could get some last-minute stocking and Santa gifts wrapped up and hidden away. Although I'd bundled her up to the point that she resembled the kid brother in A Christmas Story, and my logical mind told me that the cold virus had been incubating silently for days, out of my control, my maternal side still felt the sting of failure.
"Why don't you go get the milk out of the refrigerator for me, then, sweetie." I suggested, and Laura let go of the chair to dash over to the fridge, struggling to open the heavy door that was crowded with various doodles and paint handprints, one enhanced with construction paper feathers to resemble a turkey. The half door over the freezer had been taken over with poetry magnets, a gift from Tom and Heather, and Cory rearranged the little rectangles every week to spell out some new message. The current "poem" read: I'll take care of you, get me some coffee.
"Oh, that's romantic." Looking back at Cory, who stood leaning against the wall between the kitchen and the dining room, I pulled subtly on the bottom door, where Laura was already tugging with all her might, and it opened just enough for her to sneak in and pull out the half-gallon of milk. The carton wavered precariously in Laura's hands, and I reached down to steady it for her.
"Good job, Laurie." Together, we got the carton onto the counter, then I poured three cups of milk into a sauce pan, setting the pan on a back burner to heat.
"Now, maybe you can go help Daddy find a box of tissues. I think he needs one." Cory, going along with the premise, proceeded to make a slurping noise with his mouth, dragging his shirt sleeve under his nose. His blue eyes sparked at me, but I could tell that he, like his daughter, was feeling the effects of a busy day and a cold. His smile was just a bit slower to appear than usual, and if I looked hard, I could see faint purple shadows under his eyes.
"Yub. I really do deed a kleedex. Cad you fide be ode, Bug?"
Laura nodded enthusiastically, dashing out of the kitchen on her mission. Once she was gone, Cory sniffled for real, a deep inhalation that told me more about his health than he'd likely intended to reveal.
"Here, have one." I plucked a paper towel off of the roll and handed it to him, assuming that he would rather use that than gum up a pristine hanky.
Cory folded the towel in half and blew heartily, swiping at his nose then repositioning the towel for another blow. By the time he'd blown clear, Laura was back, a box of tissues clutched to her chest.
"I foud theb, Daddy." A telltale streak of moisture shone on Laura's upper lip, and Cory pulled a few tissues from the box. "Sounds like maybe you need them more, littlest." As I watched Cory coax Laura to blow her nose into a clutch of tissues, then gently wipe her nose and lip for her, I felt my eyes well up with happy tears. Cory just seemed to take naturally to kids, and I'd always known he'd make a great father, but watching him with our own daughter, the warmth and patience with which he helped her, still astounded me.
"Okay, you two, now I really do need you to go sit down." I motioned to the pot, which was making bubbling noises, and reached into a high cupboard to take out three mugs. One was a small ceramic cup with Sesame Street's Bert and Ernie on it, and the other two were from universities our friends had either attended or visited for conferences.
"Cor, do you want the UPS mug, or the MSU?"
"Oh, Moo U, absolutely." He pointed to the mug with a green stylized Spartan helmet on it. "Go, State."
Cory started to walk with Laura to the dining room, but turned to ask me something. "Can we drink our hot chocolate in the living room, instead? If we're real good? Please?"
I considered his request for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, but you two are responsible for any spills."
"Yay!" My husband and daughter proclaimed in unison, clapping their hands together as they were two four year olds, not a child and a grown man. Maybe it was just the magic of the holiday that did it, or perhaps the cold virus they'd caught was making them both giddy.
Once I'd finished adding the cocoa powder to the heated milk, putting a handful of marshmallows into a bowl, and pouring hot chocolate into three mugs, I placed everything on a large wooden tray and brought it into the living room, which glowed with the reflected light of the Christmas tree, standing tall and ornament-heavy in the corner. Cory's attention was focused on Laura, who was transfixed by the sparkle of the lights reflected in the window, but he looked up at me with a smile when I set down the tray on the end table beside him.
"Thanks, Lynn." Cory reached out automatically to give the little mug to Laura, but hesitated to take one for himself. Instead, he scrambled to take his handkerchief out of his pocket, inhaling in sharp little gasps before releasing a semi-muffled sneeze into the tartan. "Huh-chmmmm."
"Bless you." I took my own mug off the tray, my eyes never leaving Cory.
"Thags, sw - huuuuh." He doubled over as a series of three sneezes assailed him. "Huh-shhh! Chhh-hooo. Huuuh-chihhhh! Oh, jeez, excuse be. Here I thoughd I'd be - Huh-chhh! Esh! Eshhhh! Thoughd I'd be tagig care of Laur - huh-shhhh!"
Cory sniffled hard and thumbed tears from the corners of his eyes. "I didud wad you to catch this thig."
"Cor, if I get sick, I get sick. I can't burden you with all the responsibility of taking care of Laura when you're sick, too."
Cory started to protest, but I placed my open palm against his mouth, silencing him. "Let me take care of you. I'd like to do it."
He sighed, his breath hot against my hand, and I made a mental note to find the thermometer and take his temperature later on. Before I could take my hand away, however, he gave it a quick kiss, then forced a weak smile for my benefit.
"Let me put on some music." Cory left Laura's side for a moment to pop a CD into the player across the room, and in a moment, I heard the now-familiar strains of "Christmas in the Northwest" wafting out of the speakers. Every year for the past seven years, local musicians had recorded a compilation of best-loved Christmas carols and a few new tunes, including the title track, as a benefit for Children's Hospital, and every year, Cory bought a copy for me. I loved the Brothers Four rendition of "Some Children See Him," but Cory argued that the instrumental version of "Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella," was better. We both agreed, though, that if we heard the Manheim Steamroller version of "Deck the Halls" one more time, we'd deck the synthesizers, instead, to put them out of our misery.
"What did they do with the cover this year?" The other tradition with the CD was to take a photo of Santa Claus doing something "Northwest," and they'd posed him waterskiing, standing under an umbrella, and sail boarding for prior CD's. This year, Santa was at the helm of a sleigh powered entirely by ducks, who each wore a fur-trimmed red hat.
I put my hand in front of my mouth to preserve the sip of chocolate I'd taken. "Oh, my."
"Yep." Cory drank a bit of his cocoa. "I heard from the marketing department that they were considering slugs, but the hats kept slipping off in the slime."
"Eeew!" Laura and I chanted in unison. My husband grinned and waggled his eyebrows, downing more of his drink.
"Anyway, the wards look great, and this afternoon Mr. Smart came by with one of Santa's helpers for the kids who can't be with their families for Christmas." Like "Christmas in the Northwest," local philanthropist and Cadillac dealer Phil Smart's visits to the hospital were another tradition, and the kids just loved it. Cory had even pressed Tom into service a few years in a row to be a "signing Santa" for Deaf children at the hospital clinic, since most of Santa's helpers at the malls were well-intentioned but knew little or nothing of American Sign Language.
While Cory and I had been talking, Laura had drunk down all of her chocolate, and I noticed her beginning to droop against Cory, her eyelids heavy. He turned to her and gathered her up in his arms, and she instinctively looped her own arms around his neck.
"Okay, bug," he whispered, his voice rough and hoarse. "Leds ged you to bed." Laura snuggled into him and closed her eyes, trusting him to carry her up the stairs. He did so, moving slowly and deliberately, placing her in her small bed and arranging the covers over her.
"Dow, do you deed Bister Liod?" Laura's comfort object was a plush Nala, but she had been too young to know that Nala was a girl when she christened the toy "Mister Lion." Cory tucked the animal in with Laura, who pulled it to her and smiled sleepily.
"Okay, sduggids, Bobby ad I will led you sleeb." Cory backed out of the room, and I stepped to one side in the doorway so he wouldn't bump right into me. He closed the door only part of the way, so a little light came in from the hallway. We'd found out from sad experience that Laura was still afraid of the dark, so leaving the door a bit open gave both of us enough privacy to get through the night.
"Now, to get you to bed." I led Cory by the arm to our own bedroom, turning back the covers on the large pine bed and waiting until Cory had climbed in to drape the flannel sheet and log cabin quilt over him.
"Oh, thag you." He pressed the back of his head into the pillow, then expelled a cough into his fist. Away from his daughter, Cory finally allowed himself to give in to his own exhaustion, sneezing freely without bothering to cover or stifle. "Heh-shooo! Uh- shooo!"
"Ghesundheit." When Cory made no move to take a handkerchief out of his pocket, I rummaged around in my nightstand drawer for one, then cupped it to his nose.
"Blow, sweetie." Cory looked at me with one eyebrow quirked, as if he could not quite believe I was doing it, but then he placed both of his hands over mine and blew until I could feel a faint warmth in my palm. I pinched his nose to make sure no mucus was going to seep out the sides of the cloth, then pulled the handkerchief away, folding over the damp part and revealing a dry section.
"Need another go?"
Cory nodded and propped himself up on his elbows, taking the hanky out of my hand and releasing an even bigger blast into the cloth. When he was done, he tossed the handkerchief into the open hamper near the bed, then rolled over on his side to face me.
"I'm sorry if I'm ruining this holiday for you." His voice was an octave deeper than usual, bringing his usual tenor down to a low baritone.
"No, Cory, not at all," I said earnestly. Good heavens, how on earth could I tell him I enjoyed taking care of him, caressing his over-warm forehead, holding a handkerchief to his nose, making sure he was comfortable. It was a side of me I hardly recognized; I always thought of myself as preferring the rational, predictable world of chemistry and the hard sciences, afraid of revealing too much of my emotions, unwilling to allow myself to be vulnerable and care.
But Cory, with his seemingly endless capacity to care, to nurture and trust, had helped me rebuild that side of myself that had been submerged with Scott's assault; and I would be damned if I would hand Scott another victory. And if I were honest with myself, I had to admit that caring for someone was exciting to me. Being mothering and nurturing, taking care of Cory when he was sick, carrying a handkerchief in my purse in case he needed it, was just oddly fulfilling to me. It certainly wasn't that I wanted him to be sick, and it had not been a part of our relationship when we'd first met, but over time, I came to regard his sneezing, sniffling and use of handkerchiefs as an attractive thing. Given the right circumstances, hearing or seeing him sneeze was enough to make my insides go all warm and swirly, but I'd never mentioned it to him.
"Here," I said, placing the back of my hand against Cory's forehead. "Let me take your temperature."
"Don't you need a ther - huuh - a thermometer for that?" Cory scrubbed hard at his nose, and I jumped up from the bed to grab another handkerchief from the dresser drawer. Holding it by one corner, I snapped it open and offered it to him. He accepted it with a quick nod of thanks, curling into a fetal position as a fit of sneezes shook him. "Her-eshhh! Heshhhh! Heshhh! Ih-ih-shhhhh!" Once his sneezes had slowed, I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, unable to resist.
"Whad's thad aboud?" Cory squirmed upright, regarding me as if I'd suddenly sprouted a bonsai tree from my forehead.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, then admitted, "I think you're really, really cute right now."
"Dow?" His voice was so incredulous, I had to open my eyes.
"Yes, now." I took another deep breath, then blurted out, "Cory, I need to tell you something, and I just want to make sure you won't, I don't know, divorce me or something, when you find out." That, I thought, or think I'm a complete nutcase.
"Okay."
"Cory, I'm -" I paused. "Jeez, this is so hard to admit."
"Hold od a secod, thed. I deed a kleedex." He reached for the box on my nightstand and pulled out a handful. A solid minute of blowing passed, Cory crumpling up one used tissue after another until a small mound of them had accumulated on the bed beside him. "Hiih-chhh!" He sneezed a final single into his cupped hand, then looked up at me. "You were going to tell me ....?"
"I'm just, well, I didn't think it would happen, and I don't want this to sound wrong, but I, uhm..."
Cory reached over and placed his hand on top of mine. "Evie, whatever you want to tell me, it's not going to sound wrong."
Closing my eyes again, and taking in the deepest breath I could, I said, "I think it's kind of cute and sexy when you sneeze."
Oh, gods, now it was out. I kept my eyes closed tight, waiting for Cory to burst out with indignation.
Instead, what I got was a kiss on my forehead and an arm pulling me down onto the bed. I opened my eyes to see Cory smiling at me, his blue eyes glowing with humor.
"You know, Lynn, I was waiting for you to say that."
I gulped. "You knew?" For months and months, my secret had been eating at me, and yet he knew?
"Suspected, more like. Heck," he said, pulling the plaid handkerchief from his pajama pocket, "who else but a fetishist would have bothered to buy this for me?"
I swallowed again. "Uh, someone with good taste? Someone who likes the Scots?" I fumbled for any excuse, but it was clear that Cory was not buying.
"Lynn, don't you think I haven't noticed the way you pay extra attention to me when I'm sick, and the way that you try not to notice when I take out a handkerchief and sneeze into it?"
"I - I - I, uh, well, uhm."
"Evie, I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Hell, it's a great thing, in a way. I sneeze, you get a kick out of it. You know..." Cory glanced down at the cloth he held, crumpling it. "I always thought my allergies were some horrible thing, some imposition on other people, even though my birth parents and my parents now never looked at them in that way. But, I can recall going to a restaurant during the ragweed season, when I was six or seven, and sneezing so much that a woman at the next table actually told my mother to take me home, that it was disturbing her." He flexed his hand into a fist, then released it. "Here I'd been trying so damned hard to hold them in, stifling until my nose hurt, and all that lady could think of was that I was spoiling her appetite."
"Damn her," I said, and I meant it. I would have used even harsher language, but I didn't want to run the risk of Laura possibly overhearing.
"But those are the things that get imprinted on you, those experiences that happen when you're young and feeling vulnerable. They're not logical, but they make such a deep impact, they're nearly impossible to let go of, even now."
He coughed, discretely touching the handkerchief to his eyes before continuing. "So, to think that you can see my incessant sneezing and blowing as a good thing, to think that it actually turns you on, that's kind of healing to me."
I feasted on his smile, glad to see it return. "I'm glad I can have that effect on you, considering all the ways you've been able to heal me." In the years we'd been together, I no longer woke up in the night screaming from PTSD-induced nightmares, no longer avoided the caress of a man's hand on my body. Cory had been willing to take intimacy as slowly as I had needed, starting with the lightest touches of his lips on my forehead before he tried to kiss me directly on the mouth. Now I craved his touch, wanted him to touch me everywhere, wanted to touch him everywhere. And we did, when we had the chance.
"So, Rudolph," I whispered, touching the tip of his still-red nose. "Wanna guide my sleigh tonight?"
Cory grinned mischievously, reaching to pull up the hem of my nightgown. "Oh, Mrs. Claus, I thought you'd never ask."
Written as part of the 03-04 Winter Challenge challenge