This chapter is the conclusion to my 2020 Winter Holiday Contest story entitled "Christmas Past, Christmas Present..." That story was originally complete, but there were a few possible loose ends, so this continuation was partly inspired by SisterJezabel, who suggested a key element of the plot. Thanks, SisterJezabel!
As noted in Chapter 1, the "current" year in the story is one where the coronavirus pandemic isn't an issue. This version has been edited to correct a few name swaps and some minor grammar issues.
Thanks for reading and for your feedback through any votes, comments, favorites, or follows!
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Chapter 2:
Saturday, December 10, four years ago...
With the lights turned down low, Angela Garner sat close to the window of their top-floor suite, watching the snowflakes gently swirl just on the other side of the glass in the early evening darkness. Seeing the snow falling lightly, she would pick an individual flake as it came into view of the building's lights and then follow it in its course until it was lost to the darkness in the distance or to the floors below.
Snowflakes dancing in myriad patterns on the wind was a beautiful sight that had always captivated her; now, they reminded her of long-ago, youthful days when she'd danced on the ice with skates and floated down slopes and across drifts on skis. Now, she could only stand for minutes at a time, if at all.
Nisha Patel, her friend and confidant of nearly thirty years and her doctor for the past fifteen had given her the bad news early the previous morning.
"Angie, you're too weak for another round of treatment right now. Your body just can't take it, so we need to take a break and try to help you build up your strength before--"
Angela had patted her friend's hand as she shook her head knowingly. "Nishie, don't bullshit me, my friend. You were too honest a person to do it when we were college freshmen, and you haven't gotten any better at it with age. I've been getting noticeably weaker by the day. How long do I have? Realistically?"
Nisha hung her head, sad that there was nothing she could do for her friend and former roommate. "Angie, there is a chance we can build up your strength, but...it's really, well, practically infinitesimal, and then you'd have to start treatment again..."
"And, I know, there's no guarantee for that, either. So, how long do I have?"
Nisha looked pained, on the verge of tears. "Angie, at best, it's probably a matter of a few weeks, possibly even just days." Her voice broke when she continued. "I'm so sorry."
The two women had hugged and held each other, with the tears slipping down Nisha's cheek. When they separated, Angela looked at her friend and said, "Nishie, please don't cry, and whatever you do, do not let it slip to Bruce. I'll...I'll tell him this weekend."
"Angie, isn't this the weekend of the party? That's the last thing you should do! Your immune system is shot, so exposure to anyone with just about anything, even the simplest cold, could be the straw that breaks the camel's back. This is too important for you to attend a silly party."
She shook her head. "Bruce and that party are the most important things in my life right now. Now shush up, dry your tears, put on a happy face, and get Bruce back in here." As Nisha had been leaving to get him, Angie added forcefully, "Remember, Nishie: don't say a word!"
A reflection crossed the glass causing Angela to refocus on the present. She moved the wheels slightly to turn the chair toward her approaching husband without having to turn her head.
"How do you feel, Honey?" he asked as he stopped beside her and touched her hand, sliding his fingers around to gently cup it.
The medicine she'd taken a short time earlier had entered her system, easing her pain without dulling her senses too badly. She hoped it would be enough. Placing her other hand around his hand holding her, she said, "I'm fine, my love, but I have an idea."
"What?"
"We still have over an hour to kill before going downstairs to the party. My good wig's ready and I'm not going to waste a lot of time on makeup, so I was just thinking...maybe we could make love while we watched the snow fall, before the party. I'll be too tired afterward, I'm sure."
"But Nisha said--"
"Psssh! Bruce, Nishie's an oncologist and one of my very best friends, but she's all work and no play, like she's always been. She wouldn't have a clue on how to have a good time if she didn't have Arun, her kids, or her friends to basically force her into it; I practically had to drag her everywhere when we were in college."
"Oh, I don't know about that, Honey. Just how many kids does she have? Is it four or five?" he asked with a grin.
"Okay, maybe she knows a little about fun, but I really suspect Arun has a little something to do with her interest in that department. Just like someone else I know," she added with a suggestive rise of her brow.
He smiled. "So you think you're up for it? Making love, I mean? I really don't want to hurt you. After that last time..."
She smiled, hoping it didn't look too forced, as she pointed to her bag. "End pocket. Get the bottle of lube; we'll use plenty. Just go slow, be gentle, and I'll be fine. Now, time's wasting! Help me up, okay, dear?"
Gently, he helped her rise from the chair before she turned and stood by the edge of the bed. She started taking off the thick robe, but her grimace brought Bruce to help.
"Are you sure about this, Angie? I don't want--"
"Bruce, hush up and get this off of me. I want to get under that duvet and you inside me. When I get well, I think I'm going to get one just like this," she said, running her hand across its softness. "We'll make love on top of it where I can look at how sexy you are, but not tonight. You turned up the thermostat again a while ago, but I'm still just too damn cold right now."
He started to object again, but the look she gave quieted him at once. She felt bad about lying to him, but this was his night and she wanted it to be perfect for him. Or at least, she thought, as perfect as it could be with a cold, dying woman on his hands.
Bruce helped remove her robe and she undid the front clasp on her bra, letting it fall to the floor behind her. She'd been forced to make a lot of changes since she'd been ill, but a bra that closed in front was one of the least objectionable.
Bruce glanced at her breasts with a smile, causing a little grin of her own, before he took her arm. Gently, he started to help her sit back on the bed to get her under the soft, thick cover, but she shook her head. "Panties, too, silly. I'm wearing these tonight so you're not going to mess them up. Put them on the nightstand so I can reach them, okay?"
He smiled, sliding her underwear down her once perfect legs, with his freshly-shaved cheek rubbing against them. In addition to her skating and skiing, Angela had run track in high school, had danced in high school and college, and had kept herself in great shape throughout their marriage, but cancer had changed that. She hadn't been able to run or participate in her exercise class in over a year, and the treatments had left her almost constantly nauseous with little appetite. The resulting loss of weight took her from a sexy, vibrant woman to what she claimed was a hollow shell of her former self. Bruce had continued to praise her despite all of this, saying she was still his beautiful soul-mate going through a very dark time before she would emerge on the other side. Angela knew better, but she had to give him this night.
Angela smiled as she felt his hands run over her legs and his lips give a brushing kiss of her thigh before she stepped, gingerly, out of her panties. She longed for the days when his kisses wouldn't stop, running up the insides of her thighs, and with his lips, his tongue, and his oh-so-dexterous fingers, he would repeatedly take her to heights unimaginable. The cancer and Nisha's continual warnings about her immune system had put a stop to most of that, but the memories warmed her soul at that single, tiny kiss.
Bruce picked her bra up off the floor and set both where she'd asked, before pulling the duvet back a little farther and helping her lie back on the mattress. She stifled a groan as she tried to shift back, further onto the bed, before he helped her and covered her with the down comforter.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, feeling the softness of the mattress cradling her, easing the pressure on her back, and the willowy warmth of the cover over her. Opening her eyes, she looked at her husband of early 24 years and smiled. "Are you coming or are you just going to stand there all night? A girl has needs, you know."
Bruce, who'd been looking at her apprehensively as she lay in the bed, quickly shed his clothes and climbed in beside her, sliding an arm around her now-frail form.