Page 4 of Beared at Christmas
The bus pulled into a parking lot in front of a grove of bare maple trees with a small store to the side and a tiny log cabin behind it. We’d arrived. Since I’d been the only one in the shuttle other than the driver and only one vehicle was in the lot, the place wouldn’t be busy. Yet, the truck looked familiar. I realized why when I walked into the small store where they sold everything to do with maple syrup, and where I needed to sign up for the tour.
“Good morning.” Ulrik nodded in a brief greeting, the hardness gone from his eyes.
“Morning.” I couldn’t deny the relief I felt with some of his anger seeming to have ebbed away. I hoped I didn’t have to see that side of him again.
With only the two of us on the back of the hay wagon fitted with two bench seats along the sides, and one up front for the driver, we were pulled behind two large horses into the bush filled with maple trees. It wasn’t a smooth ride, or very fast. Ulrik and I found ways to avoid each other, sitting at opposite ends of the wagon, as the miked driver shared stories about his family’s history in the area and the process of tapping the trees for maple syrup production. He told us how the tour in late winter and early spring included a demonstration of the tapping, but it was too early in the season for that. Since we were the first visitors of the day, at the end of the tour, we got to try some maple taffy made with the tree sap left over from the last harvest. I didn’t think I could eat anything else after breakfast. Not until I saw the sugary mixture poured into the bank of snow. I was willing to find room in my stomach for it. I took the white lollipop stick I’d been given and rolled it into the sugary mixture. For some reason, I glanced at Ulrik at that moment and actually saw him smile. When he met my gaze, his elation disappeared. I sighed, wishing I’d been stuck with someone else, though I wasn’t to the point of wanting to spend Christmas with my family.
When I tried the taffy, I was unable to hold back a moan. It tasted nothing like the taffy from the store back home. The sugar and syrup danced across my tongue in an explosion of sweetness. I closed my eyes to enjoy the treat, and, when I opened them again, I caught another smile from Ulrik.
“That was really good.” I held my empty stick out, not wanting to make a big deal about the change in attitude of my cabinmate, keeping my relief to myself. Spending the holidays with a grinch would be almost as bad as going to my parents’.
Our last stop on the tour was back at the store, where we were encouraged to buy something to remember our time there. That was likely why they had no problems with the free tour passes. If all their guests bought merchandise afterward, they would makeenough to feed and care for the horses that pulled us through the bush.
“What are you buying for your family?” Ulrik asked, holding a bottle of maple syrup that looked similar to the type of wine I drank.
“Um, nothing.” My gut churned. I hadn’t stopped feeling guilty for lying to my parents. It felt worse when I had to do it to someone else. “My family doesn’t know I’m here. They think I’m working over the holidays.” I wasn’t sure telling the truth to a total stranger was any better.
“Oh.” He moved away from the wall of various bottles of syrup to the other treats. “I have to get something for my sister. She gave me this stay as a Christmas present.”
I couldn’t hold in my snort. “I’m sure she didn’t expect you to be stuck with me.”
One side of his mouth curved up into a half smile. “Probably not.”
His overnight change in attitude made me wonder if he had been grumpy from the drive and, of course, the mix-up. Not because of me. I hoped that was the case, because I really wanted to enjoy all of my holiday, not just parts of it.
I grabbed a bottle of syrup and a package of three sugar candies in the shape of maple leaves. Something for me to remember my stay there. It wasn’t as if my family ever came to visit me, so they would never know. I paid for the products then headed outside to wait for the shuttle back to the lodge.
Ulrik came out shortly after me with two bags. I didn’t know how much of it was for him or if he’d bought all of it for his sister. He nodded toward his truck. “You want a ride back? I’m heading there anyway. Or I can take you to the village, if that’s where you want to go.”
“Um, sure. Thank you.” I hadn’t signed up for a shuttle back, planning to catch a ride when the next one arrived with guests. Unfortunately, I had no idea how long that would be.
His truck was large, not jacked to the sky like some on the road. Still high enough that I needed to use the step rails to climb into it. While I’d been in it once before, traveling from the lodge to our cabin, I couldn’t help the awkwardness of getting inside his personal space. It wasn’t a cabin we were forced to share. Maybe if I knew him a bit better, it wouldn’t be so bad.
“So, why did your sister send you here as a gift?” I hoped he didn’t consider my question too forward. After all, he had asked about my family back in the store.
He cleared his throat. “To move on, I guess.”
“Divorce?” I was sure that was inappropriate, the word slipping out before I could stop it.
“No.” He shook his head as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. “I’m a widow. My mate died of cancer just over a year ago.”
“Oh.” The word “mate” confused me for a bit. Maybe it had been their term for each other. I felt like a bigger fool for having brought it up, and the hurt it might have caused. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head then turned on the windshield wipers and continued down the road. “So, what do you do for a living that your parents would believe you were working over the holidays?”
With the question, I assumed he wasn’t mad at me and still wanted to talk. Probably a good idea since we were stuck together for the week. “I’m a computer programmer for a game design company. And for the last two years, I really did work over the holidays. Though I was glad for the excuse not to go home.”
“Oh, really?” I heard the curious tone in his voice as he kept his focus on the road. “Why is that?”
“My family doesn’t…” I didn’t know how much to tell him. “They don’t approve of my lifestyle choices, I guess.”
“You’re gay?” There was no sneer or tone of condensation that I was used to from guys who drove big trucks like his. Only more curiosity.
“Yes.” I closed my eyes and braced for his reaction, unsure if he would drop me off on the side of the road, or worse.
“So am I.”
I opened my eyes and glanced over at him, uncertain whether I’d heard him properly or if it had been wishful thinking. “Oh. Okay.”
