I pointed at the couple. “I thought Doris was your wife.”
“She is,” he said matter-of-factly, then he raised his mug.
I raised mine, and we clinked mugs. I was even more confused.
I looked for Holly and found her seated against the wall with Owen and Gannon. Miles had the guitar and was strumming, trying to remember a song he wanted to sing for them.
“We’re a family,” said Shaun, and my attention drifted back to him. “We. Share. We share everything.”
I looked at him in disbelief. “You mean.…”
He nodded, took a sip from his mug, and inhaled a sharp hissing breath, either from the heat or from the alcohol. He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. “Everything.” He blew on his drink then continued, “What I have is yours, what you have is mine. That’s the way we grew up. We grew up poor, but because we shared, we never lacked.”
“Wow,” was all I managed to say in response.
“It does us right.” He looked at me, fluttered his eyebrows, and gave me a jab in the side with his elbow. “Does the girls right, too.”
I felt a certain and sudden sense of panic and glanced back at Holly, fearing maybe she was on somebody’s lap with her arms wrapped around his neck, the two engaged in a passionate embrace. Then I chuckled to myself. Isn’t that precisely what I’ve been fantasizing about?
“Come on.” Shaun motioned for me to follow. “Miles can play a mean guitar, but he sure can’t sing worth a lick.”
He headed over to where Lawson, Gannon, Owen, and Holly sat listening to Miles play. “Do you sing?” Shaun asked me.
“Only in the shower.”My attention was split between Miles and Holly. I kept looking from one to the other, checking to see if Holly was okay and if she was enjoying herself. I also feared she would turn around and catch Doris and Brock making out. I didn’t know if that would freak her out as much as it had me.
Miles finished his song to a round of applause. He tried to pass the guitar to Lawson, but Lawson refused to take it.
Holly, on her knees, reached for the instrument. “Pass it over here.”
I was almost as surprised at seeing that as I was at seeing Brock and Doris making out. Miles got up from his stool. He helped Holly up and invited her to take his place. Shaun looked at me, expectantly. I merely shrugged. “I didn’t know she could play a guitar.”
Holly tucked her hair behind her ears, settled on the stool, and wiped the giddy expression from her face to take on a very serious, focused demeanor. Then she wound up her arm, struck a chord, and went into a loud rockin’ rendition of Elvis Presley's “Blue Suede Shoes.”
By the time she’d finished, everyone had come over to our side of the room and stood or sat in a semicircle around her. The applause was thunderous—and well deserved. She stood and did an Elvis hip thrust, then took a bow. Laughing, she tried to pass me the guitar. “Your turn, Ryker.”
“No, no, no.” I waved my hands emphatically in refusal. “No way. I couldn’t follow that.”
Lawson took the guitar and immediately went into a fast-tempo bluegrass ditty.
“Impressive,” I said to Holly.
In classic Elvis impersonator fashion, she replied, “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
I took her hands. “Wanna dance?”
It was clearly apparent that we were both out of our element trying to dance to bluegrass. But that didn’t make either of us shy about it. We kicked and stomped, laughed, and tried to keep up with the fast-paced music. Everyone clapped the rhythm.
Brock and Doris joined us then we just imitated what they did. Gannon came and took Doris from Brock. Will came and took Holly from me.
They kicked and stomped and turned and clapped.
Gannon gave Doris to me. Will gave Holly to Miles. We shuffled and slid and slapped our knees, kicked up our feet, and slapped our heels.
I gave Doris to Carson. Miles gave Holly to me. We twirled and dipped, laughed, and held on as best we could.15HollyA few nights ago, I was in the mountains caught in a snowstorm in a tent with my gorgeous brown-eyed lover. Now, I had come down from the mountains and was again caught in a snowstorm. My gorgeous lover was still with me, but he seemed to have multiplied. Everywhere I looked, I saw a different iteration of him: an older version to my left, a younger version to my right; a leaner one, or a more muscle-bound one; one clean-shaven, the other bearded.
As the snow fell in sheets outside, inside, we danced by the fire and sipped on warm cider. Ryker held me in his arms, his chin rested on my shoulder. His voice was starting to fade, his words coming out more slowly, soft and slurred.