If I could hug her right now and promise that everything will be fine, I would, but I don’t know that for sure. However, if I could give her one thing for Christmas, it would be to put out the fires in her life while at the same time making sure she feels nothing but whatever brings that very real smile to her face.
Hollis holds the camera aloft and calls, “Instead of ‘cheese,’ everyone say, ‘jingle bells!’”
Afterward, Rebecca’s hand moves toward where her pocket would be. It’s almost like a reflex and she freezes, then laughs softly.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“I was about to capture this for social media—a habit from having to record every moment of my life.” She looks almost relieved. “It’s kind of nice not having my phone.”
Her brown sugar gaze finds mine for a long moment. My pulse quickens, and I hold my breath as the air around us seems to blow away on a cookie-scented breeze.
As if coming out of a daze, we both give our heads a little shake.
She claps her hands together and says, “Well, what’s next in our Christmas extravaganza?”
I’m grateful for the distraction, even if part of me wants to stay in that moment a little longer.
My stomach growls. “How about lunch?”
“Yes, feed me. All this Christmas fun has built up my appetite. I tell myself that I’m allergic to carbs. That’s patently not true.”
I take this to mean her job doesn’t afford her many treats in the way of comfort food and I want to see her pile her plate high with whatever she wants for once.
Lunch is a build-your-own baked potato bar that I’m going to introduce at the station next time I’m on dinner duty. Patton, aka Maverick, is a phenomenal cook, but we all have to chip in. I top my spud with everything, including bacon bits, cowboy butter, sour cream, chives, chili, cheese sauce, and broccoli.
“This is amazing,” Rebecca says around a dainty mouthful. “When is the last time you just ate whatever you wanted without someone photographing it?”
“This morning’s hot chocolate?”
She loads more cheese onto her potato. “But before that, back in my so-called real life, everything I eat gets scrutinized. Too many carbs, too much sugar, wrong image for the brand. Blah, blah, blah.” She does air quotes around “brand” with her fork. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a fully loaded baked potato?”
“Don’t be shy. No cameras here.” As I say it, the relief on her face is visible.
I have to admit, it’s nice of the hotel staff and guests to give her privacy. Then again, there are some things more important than seeing a famous pop star at a resort—things like celebrating Christmas. Everyone here are gold star high achievers when it comes to that.
After lunch, Rebecca insists Pookie needs a nap. “She’s had a very exhausting morning of being adorable.” This comes with a head-to-toe tickle, scratch, and pet as the dog licks her hands.
By all accounts, I should also get some shut-eye. But being with Becca has invigorated me in a way that makes me buzz like I had a caffeine infusion. I don’t think a nap will help.
After a potty break for the puglet, Rebecca drops her off in her room for naptime.
The lodge has provided gear, and I help Rebecca into a puffy coat that’s about two sizes too big.
She laughs. “I look like a marshmallow.”
“A very festive marshmallow.”
She playfully sticks her tongue out at me.
But more than anything, I want her to be warm, for her belly to be full, and for her to wear that happy smile again.
When we step outside, the snow still falls steadily. Fat flakes drift down like nature’s confetti.
Wearing a red fur-trimmed jacket, Noella and Hollis lead winter activities under a covered pavilion, complete with heat lamps.
We enter “Minute to Win It” style challenges with winter themes.
Rebecca and I end up on a team with a family from Sacramento—parents and two kids. They are delighted to have Rebecca and me as teammates, because we suggest we name our team the “Reindeer Games Champions.”
