Page 16 of Snow Blind (The Technicians #14)

T he family fun festivities required an entire plan, which Helen looked forward to taking part in with the Neary family. Helen and Cherry’s previous holiday celebrations had simply consisted of her mother putting up a tree and baking a cake for Christmas, but the holiday meant lots of overtime at the hospital which left Helen and Cherry to make the best of it on their own. As the years had progressed with Cherry stationed in Japan, Germany, and even Korea, the desire for a Christmas tree and holiday traditions just didn't mean as much. However, now that Cherry was a mother, new plans could be undertaken and her cousin slash sister appeared pleasantly happy to take part in the activities.

As far as Helen understood, today being two days before Christmas meant the cutting down of the holiday tree. Dinner at the Neary home would consist of eggnog making while the tree was being trimmed and a new ornament added for each family member. Helen was informed that she, Abigail, and Naomi would add their first ornaments to the tree. Abigail would need to work on her ornament for next year for Luke. As a Christmas present for each member of the family, Helen had found an embroidery file to make tree ornaments, which was one of the gifts she'd made for each Neary.

Christmas Eve morning was a time set aside for the men to hunt game. If a deer were taken down, it would get field dressed, and sausages would be made for the grill as well as a good venison roast. The womenfolk would take over the kitchen to begin baking holiday yummies. The cakes went into the oven, along with pies and this year, Ruth Neary planned to build mini-gingerbread houses where Naomi would be the village queen. Helen was excited to do it all with Ruth, whom she absolutely loved, and enjoyed being in the kitchen learning from the family matriarch.

Christmas Day activities were brunch and present opening, along with a sit-down holiday dinner. A turkey, from what she understood, would get deep fried outside, and inside a ham or a goose would bake. Side dishes, how many Helen was uncertain, would be made for the holiday feast and the family would begin to wrap up the end of the year.

This year was a major life change for Mustang. Usually, when he returned for Christmas and Ruth's birthday, he stayed in the guest room at the familial home. He wasn't too excited to tell Ruth he wasn't staying this year. However, first there were things to be done in his own home that he would share with Helen.

"I need to get a tree stand for a live tree," he told Helen.

"No worries; I brought one with me," she said, showing him the holder near the window.

Just as he'd suspected, she'd done her thing, nesting the place while he was out tree hunting, chopping one down for them and growing alpha male chest hairs. In the bathroom were embroidered towels he couldn't use to wipe his hands or he would get scolded like a child. This made him smile. In the bedroom, there was a heavy holiday quilt with matching shams and foo-foo pillows. Helen had even added matching heavy drapes. The living room had festive red curtains and embroidered pillows rested on the couch next to a heavy wool red throw.

Mark helped bring in the tree, spotting the differences from earlier in the home. He stood still in the space, wondering what their home in Indiana was like. There were photos of Helen and his son on the mantle, and on the wall was a framed photo of what he assumed was their wedding day. Mark felt emotional standing in the living room. He thought of his son's home in Oregon. It was a house which held his stuff, but it didn't feel like a home. The house in Oregon felt like a place where his son ate, slept, and made furniture. He truly wanted to visit the new home his son shared with Helen in Indiana, but Mark wouldn't push it. Jay would invite them out when the time was right, and Mark was looking forward to it because he really liked Helen. She had a nice energy even after what she'd been through; he appreciated how she embraced the negative, but didn’t allow it to engulf who she was meant to become. Initially, he’d had doubts and questions, but looking about the space and how quickly she’d transformed it for herself and his son, he nodded.

"Ruth is looking forward to seeing you this afternoon," he said to Helen.

"And I can't wait to see her! I have so much to share with her," Helen replied, smiling widely. "Her biscuit recipe is becoming quiet famous. I am so excited to get in there and start baking with her."

Helen’s smile was like a ray of sunshine and Mark felt choked up. He’d worried about Jay being so far from his family and alone. This pip of a woman had gotten his son to move closer to home and take a safer job. For that, he was grateful. He only wished her job wasn’t so dangerous, but they were learning. Love, he'd found out through nearly forty-five years of being the man for Ruth Neary, was about learning.

A Christmas tree was in her home. A lovely tree which filled the home with the smell of pine, and tonight, with the few lights and ornaments she'd brought along in one of the tubs, Mustang and she would decorate their first tree. It wasn't much, but a start.

"Be back soon," Mustang said. "I’ve gotta help Michael get his tree in the cabin, then take the big tree to the house with Daddy."

"I'm fine, go," she said, watching his strong back. Suddenly, she decided to go over to the main house again to see Naomi's reaction to seeing Jay. More than anything, she wanted to know what revelation her niece would share with him.

She entered the back door as the child launched herself in the air. Mustang held her high above his head, bringing her in for a squeeze. To her surprise, he accepted the butterfly kisses to his cheeks even though he thought kids were walking petri dishes.

"Uncle Jay! Guess what?"

"What, Miss Princess Naomi?"

"Misses Sprinkles broke her toenail! She sure did, and Bleu, the one with the beard, took her over to his house for the winter. He said she'd get new shoes, but Uncle Jay, he has other horses. Big horses and she's little. Do you think they will pick on her, 'cause she's smaller than them?"

"I think Bleu and Jason will make sure Misses Sprinkles will make friends with Lancelot and Guinevere," he said. "They are nice horses."

"Okay, good," she answered, batting her lashes and grinning at him, showing off missing her front teeth. "Next time, can you get me a car? I can drive it from here to the barn to take her treats when she comes back."

"Can't you ask your Daddy to get you a little car?"

"No, he thinks I'm a little kid and can't do anything by myself," Naomi explained. "If I had my own little pink car, I could put apples in the back and drive over to the barn to feed Misses Sprinkles."

A sparkle came to his eye, imagining Naomi in a little pink Jeep, driving through the backyard over to the barn. For shits and giggles, first chance he got, one was getting ordered and delivered to the house. He looked to see Michael staring at him. Then this brother shot a bird at him.

"Don't even think about it," Michael said to him.

"What? I didn't do anything," he said, laughing. Mustang proceeded to help set up the tree and then Naomi noticed her grandfather.

"Oh. Hey, Grandpa Man! I didn't see you. How you doing?" she asked.

Mark was offended. "I don't get hugs and kisses or a story?"

"A story about what, Grandpa Man?"

"Stop calling me that. I am just Grandpa."

"Okay Just Grandpa," she said, smiling and showing off the tiny teeth. "Will you let Grandma know I'll be over soon as I shower and get dressed? I know she misses me."

Mark growled at the dismissal. He'd had enough of little Miss Highhanded. "Sure. You guys ready?"

"Ready," both men called out. Michael trailed the pickup in his own vehicle so he could drive them back to the house later in the day. To Helen, it would have been logical for everyone to go now to save on the travel, but it wasn't her circus, and they weren't her elephants to herd.

****

T HE AFTERNOON PROVED interesting as everyone arrived at the family home to trim the tree. Ruth Neary was in a full-blown supermom mode, having gotten all the details from Mark on Jay moving to Indiana, his new job, and of course getting married. In a gust of air, she stood in the middle of the floor, making her announcement.

"Dang gone it! At least one of my kids is going to have a wedding! I am going to start planning this wedding ceremony right away. Helen, what are your colors and themes?" Ruth asked.

Mustang didn't blink or hesitate when he responded, "Ma, no you are not."

"What do you mean? This will be the wedding for the season," Ruth said.

"Ma, it will be Helen's wedding, and Helen's wedding to plan," he said. "If she wants your help, she'll ask for it."

"I'm going to start planning," Ruth muttered.

"Again, no, you are not," Mustang said. "Helen is in the middle of life altering training which requires her focus. She doesn't need to worry about baby's breath, spaghetti straps, or what flavor icing is on a cake. Take a back seat, Ma. She'll let you know what she needs."

"It's not fair, I want a wedding," Ruth pouted.

"Then plan a recommitment ceremony for you and Dad," he said. "My wife has other concerns at the moment, and when she's ready to begin planning her dream wedding, if she even wants to do it, then she will begin the process."

Ruth waved her hand at him and said, "A recommitment ceremony?"

"Isn't there a big anniversary coming up? Dad, aren't you retiring soon? What about Abigail's baby shower? There are other events to work on, Ma," Mustang said, trying to shift her focus.

"Oh, a retirement party," Ruth said, heading to the kitchen for more cranberries.

Helen walked over to Mustang, and in his ear, she whispered something so raunchy, bordering on distasteful, and absolutely hilarious about his penis that he found himself blushing. She looked him squarely in the eyes, saying simply, "I didn't know it was possible to love a man as much as I love you right now. Thank you."

He said nothing, simply happy to be home with family, but not having to spend five days at the beck and call of his mother's whims nearly made him dance. There was a reason he came home only twice a year; his mother, God bless her soul, was absolutely exhausting. One of the things he appreciated about Helen was her ability to sit still. Instead of the flurry of emotions and bounding about, she would sit with a book, enjoying the blessing of being in a safe space.

"I love you as well," he said, looking at his brother, who again shot him a bird while mouthing that he was an unpleasant name reserved for feminine male inmates. "Love you too, Michael."

The love fest continued in the privacy of the home they shared while they decorated the perfectly sized tree. Helen promised him a special reward for cutting down such an ideal tree, ending with spending the night making sweet love. A smile remained plastered on her face during the entire week, which only widened on Christmas morning when her husband opened his present.

"My monogrammed bathrobe! Hell yeah!" he said, proud of the gift. He opened the other packages, surprised at the thoughtfulness of his wife’s gifting. "Your turn."

Helen didn’t expect any of the gifts her husband would give to be a surprise. She expected jewelry, but what surprised her in the other boxes were the gift cards. There was a gift card to the craft store, a gift card for online embroidery shops, and to her shock, a pamphlet on Quilt Town USA, the home of the Missouri Star Quilt Company.

"Jay, what is this?" she asked, looking further to find a prepaid gift card.

"One free weekend, we can drive over to Hamilton," he said. "It is about an eight-hour drive from the house but imagine the fabrics! I have a preloaded gift card with about a thousand bucks on it for you to buy crafting stuff. Your Dad helped me finish the bookcases for your craft room to house the fabrics. Here is a photo of the cases. Do you like them?"

Helen began to cry. She opened her mouth and howled, bawled, slobbered and cried like an infant.

"Baby, did I do something wrong? You don't like the gift?"

"Jay, this is the most perfect gift in the world. You see me. You get me. You understand what I need to be happy," she told him.

"Well, hell. The last one has a gift card to the bookstore, so shit, I'm scared for you to open that one," he said, opening his arms.

"Our first Christmas together is so perfect," she said, kissing him with icky, snot-laced smooches.

"I love being married to you," he told her with the smile still plastered on her face.

In the other room, her Technician phone rang, and she nearly growled at having the perfect mood ruined by work shit. She answered the phone, accepting the call through the company operator. On the other line was Bad Apple, who wanted her to put the phone on speaker.

"Cranberry, is Mustang close by? If so, can you put the call on speaker?"

"Sure thing. Merry Christmas," Helen said cheerfully. "Did the gifts arrive on time? I have confirmation on delivery, but you know how those things go."

Bad Apple was beside himself with the gifts received from his new extended family. "Cranberry, Mustang, we are floored. I only have the P.O. Box for you so I sent a card. Now I feel like a schmuck after opening these wonderful presents. The boys, Ricky, we are all in shock. Mustang, man, you did the damned thang. Thank you both."

"You're welcome. Merry Christmas," Mustang said, pressing the button to end the call.

Helen looked at him. "I sent monogrammed bathrobes and man grooming kits to the guys. Jay, did you send something as well?"

Mustang shrugged and said, "Yeah, I sent each one of them a tool kit."

"A tool kit?"

"Yeah, for Apple, I sent a new gun cleaning kit. Ricky got a grilling kit. Stephen got a chef's tool kit complete with knife sharpeners, and the Jeffrey and Oscar received their first tools in a neat little toolbox."

Helen blinked. The tears began to roll down her cheeks, and before she knew it, she had thrown herself into his arms and cried harder, soaking his chest with tears. "I love you so much. You are just the absolute best. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but Lord am I thankful. Those kids, Oscar, knowing you care. Oh, my God. You got a gift for Ricky too. Oh my, God. I love you so much. Will you marry me so I can be yours forever and ever?"

Mustang said nothing as the warm, squishy feeling moved to his belly. He knew he was in love and this was how it felt. There were no fancy trips to remote Caribbean Islands, extravagant dining at exclusive restaurants, or high-end designer purses, but a simple thought gift for others and a few gift cards. The feeling continued with the knowledge of having chosen the right woman to be his partner filling his soul with gladness as a smile also became plastered to his face.

Helen’s technician’s cell phone rang, but no number showed on the screen. She looked at it, sliding her finger across the glass to engage the call. An idea formed on who it could be, but she would allow this to play out.

“Go for Cranberry,” she said as static filled the line.

“ Ola Tia, Feliz Navid ,” the voice said.

“Happy Christmas to you as well. Did you get the gifts I sent?” She asked, knowing good and well he had.

“ Si , we did,” he said, “Thoughtful of you and gracias .”

“Is Alita nearby, so I can say hello?”

“Of course, una momento ,” he said, calling for his assassin body guard to come to the line in a bundle of holiday cheer.

“ Ola Tia , I love the robe, thank you for thinking of me,” she said. “Is your Christmas going well?”

“It is,” she replied. “You two take care of each other, keep me updated and next time you’re on the continent, if we can connect, let me know.”

“Of course. Be well,” Alita said, ending the call.

Mustang sat looking at her. His eyes blinked several times. He pointed at the phone. “ Tia ? On the continent? Helen?”

“The Bushmaster. He got my Christmas gifts,” she said smiling.

“The Bushmaster?”

“Yeah, the Colombian Bushmaster,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

Mustang inhaled deeply, “he called you Tia , as in Auntie?”

“Yeah, his actual Aunt is Odessa Blakemore, and I am a sad substitution, but it’s better to have him calling me Auntie rather than trying to fight you to win my affections,” she said shrugging.

“What?” He said scrunching his face. “You said Colombian. Blakemore. Hold the hell up. Bushmaster as in snake. As in Viper. As in Delgado. Helen, how in the actual hell...those people are dangerous. The father, the Fer de Lance, that man is a Bona fide sociopath!”

“He’s not that bad,” she said before she knew it.

“Stop right there,” he said. “When. How. Stop it! You have not met that man and not told me. Where did you? Nope. Not doing this. You’re pulling my leg and I am not playing that game with you.”

She shrugged again as her technician phone rang. Again, no number on the displayed on the screen. Helen slid her finger across the glass, but this time placing the call on speaker.

“Go for Cranberry,” she said.

“ Bon dia , Cranberry,” the deep baritone voice said.

“Good day to you Senor,” she replied, “please note you are on speaker and the Mustang is seated next to me.”

“Ah, a fitting name for such a stallion of a man,” he said, pausing briefly. “I received your gift.”

Helen was grinning. “I hope it brought a smile to your face. Be honest, tell me what you thought of it.”

The line was silent, then he spoke. “I opened your gift and thought, this is, how do you say, ah si ...the bullshit.”

To her surprise, she heard him chuckle. He’d gotten the gist of the joke and the practicality of the gift. It did make him laugh, and Helen was pleased.

“Cranberry, thank you,” he said. “The gift, the clarity of the situation and the conversation, it has made a difference for us both.”

“Glad to be of service, Senor.”

Another pause in the line, “I have commissioned my tailor to craft you four pairs of mis pantalones . They should arrive after the new year. Feliz Navid Cranberry.”

“Happy Christmas, Senor,” she said as he disconnected the call. She looked at her husband, who sat staring at her mutherfuckingly. Helen rose, to pour fresh cups of coffee for them both, and to grab a cinnamon bun to pass to her husband. He sipped the coffee and finally found his words.

“Helen, what in the entire fuck? Was that the Fer de Lance? You sent a Christmas present to the baddest son of a gun on two continents!! What did you send and why does he consider it to be bullshit, and wait and damned minute, he called me a stallion! I have never seen or met that man.”

“He’s seen you,” she said.

“And where did this happen?”

“He came to our house, looking for me, but I just left, so he followed me to Passion Fruit’s place,” she said.

Mustang rubbed his temples, “How did he follow you? Are you leaving a trail, Helen?”

“No, silly. The Bushmaster put a tracker on my car since I hadn’t been implanted yet, you know to keep watch, since I am under his protection,” she said scowling.

He was shaking his head. “And what did you do to earn such loyalty?”

“I cooked him some neck bones, collard greens and cornbread with the little corn nibbles in the bread,” she told him. “I also made his Daddy breakfast and we had a chat.”

A pain shot through his temple and he thought for one moment his head was about to explode. This is what she meant about him not being able to handle the truth. She was telling him the truth and he was about to lose his shit. His Helen, and the Fer de Lance, having breakfast, like they were old friends. His stomach roiled. His right eye twitched. He thought he was having a stroke and was unable to voice the words.

“And his gift,” he asked, as he found his words.

“Well, he showed up at Passion Fruit’s place trying to be all intimidating and shit,” she said. “That man was trying to interact with me before coffee when just the day before was already trying on my soul with me having to undress Bryan and watching Passion Fruit put in a catheter in that man against my will. I mean I turned around and she had that little pink turtle's head in her hand, and I was like ugh.”

“Dear God, save me,” Mustang said, wiping at his eyes.

“Anyway, he stepped out of the shadows trying to be all creepy and shit, and I was like, oh,” she said. “He was shocked that I wasn’t scared, asking, do you know who I am, and I was like yeah, you’re the Bushmaster’s Daddy, the Lancelot. He, of course, corrected me on his title, which gave me the idea for the gift.”

“Helen, be merciful on my soul, what was the gift?”

“The Bushmaster travels with his own coffee beans, so I figured if he did, it was learned from his father,” she said. “So, I made him a travel coffee bean bag holder.”

“Yeah, but he said it was some bullshit,” Mustang commented.

The smile on Helen’s face was the very reason he should have asked her to stop talking, but again, he was invested in the nonsense and encouraged her to continue.

“I sent him an embroidered coffee bean bag carrier,” she said smiling. “The bag has a little viper on the front of it baring its fangs that is sitting on a few loose coffee beans. It is embroidered with the words Lancelot’s Bag o’ Beans .”

Helen burst into laughter. Mustang laughed as well. “He’s right, that is some bullshit. You are bat shit crazy and I’m here for it.”

“I hope so, because I’m inviting them to the wedding,” she said.

Mustang had reached the end limits of his surprise well loaded with liquid drops of Helen’s fairy tonic. “Sure, why the hell not?”

“Good, you will like him. He’s not so bad, and that son of his, Lawd, plus his little assassin body guard, she is a tough cookie,” Helen said smiling. “Let get ready for the rest of the day.”

****

T HE SMILE REMAINED all week, even upon their departure with Cherry pouting and Naomi crying. Michael appeared a little sad, but Mustang came through.

"We have two guest rooms, and I have crafted a portable toddler bed for Naomi. I am two hours away. If you start driving at 8 a.m., you will be at my front door by 10:15. That's not even a bathroom stop," he said. "Call first to make sure it is a good time for a visit; the door is always open for you guys."

"Thank you," Michael said, waving at them as they left.

Mustang in return, shot his brother a bird.

It had been a good week celebrating the holidays with the Neary’s, but the following Monday, Helen needed to be on the road. The down time was helpful, but she had skills to build, men to kill, and scales to balance. The break was nice, and, in the vehicle, she didn't talk of work; instead, she talked of weekend getaways, the potential trip to Missouri, and a potential vacation on a sunny beach.

"Honeymoon?"

She asked, "Island or mountains?"

"I like the mountains, but sometime in Costa Rica sounds pretty neat," he said. "Do you have a passport?"

"I can call the Archangel and get one," she said, laughing. "Heck, I don't want to call that dude for anything."

Mustang held his tongue. He didn't want Helen to go back to training. Having her home was wonderful. Spending time with the family was amazing, and he'd been saved from worrying about whether his wife would get along with his mother. He was saved from mean girl actions between his sister and wife. It was an ideal situation, and overall, he was happy.

"I don't want you to leave, but I know this is what you have to see to completion," he said to her on that Monday. "If shit gets sticky, all you have to do is call. I shall come for you."

"And if Janis at the office gets touchy, all you have to do is call, and I will come for her," she chuckled. "Listen, I love you. I shall finish up with Passion Fruit and be back by the end of the month. My time with her will be over."

"I love you too; be safe."

"If not safe, careful," she said with a wink, backing out and pointing the nose of the pickup toward Illinois. Three weeks. Three weeks to get the training complete. For a moment, she felt as if she'd seen too much and experienced her own form of being snow blind, being exposed to too much ultraviolet bullshit, but she was ready.

"I am Helen McDaniel Neary. I am the Cranberry. I am the Technician for the great state of Indiana. My watch is beginning," she said aloud as she hit the interstate. She repeated it once more to remind herself of what tasks lie ahead.