A Princess Under The Mistletoe

* * *

The next several days, Sara managed to avoid meeting Gavin’s direct gaze, although it was challenging. The weather took a turn for the worse and she tried several methods to keep the children entertained. Soon enough, everyone showed signs of cabin fever. Sam whined and Adelaide cried.

Out of desperation, she took to the piano. She banged out some hard modern pieces. The kids turned silent, or maybe she just couldn’t hear them. Sara played three songs, then looked at Adelaide sitting in her infant seat and Sam standing beside the piano. Both just stared at her.

Many people seemed to forget that the piano was a percussion instrument. Hard to ignore.

Sam stepped toward her and pressed down a key.

“Try another,” she said. “It won’t bite.”

He pressed down another key, then another and another.

“Want to learn a tune?” she asked.

“What tune?” he asked.

“‘Chopsticks,’” she said, and she began to play.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam had learned his part.

Sara caught him playing the piano again during some free time. Unfortunately, the rain continued and even “Chopsticks” couldn’t save them.

Desperate, Sara took the children outside in the rain. Warning them this would only last a short time, she headed straight for the mud puddles. Sam jumped up and down, splashing her and Adelaide. The baby shrieked in delight. Sara was just glad both kids seemed happy and entertained.

She had every intention of taking them inside and bathing them.

But Gavin came home early and drove past them on his way up the driveway to the cottage. “Uh-oh,” she said.

Sam looked at her. “Are we in trouble?”

“Maybe,” she said with a wince.

“Maybe he won’t be mad,” Sam said hopefully.

With the rain streaming down on them, she stared at him and smiled. “Maybe not. It’s just rain and a little mud,” she said. “I guess we better go back,” she said. Sam nodded.

They walked back to the cottage where Gavin stood at the open front door with his hands crossed over his chest.

“Hi, Daddy,” Sam said, darting toward his father. “We’ve been splashing in the puddles.”

“I can see that,” Gavin said, pulling his son up into his arms. He sent an inquiring glance toward Sara.

“We got very, very bored,” she admitted.

Gavin gave a slow nod.

“I thought we could all get a bath after a little time outside,” she said.

“I can play ‘Chopsticks,’” Sam told Gavin.

“What?” Gavin asked Sam.

“I can play ‘Chopsticks,’” Sam repeated. “Sara says I’m ’cellent.”

Gavin smiled at his son. “I bet you are.” He met Sara’s gaze. “Let’s get those baths.”

Moments later, Sara bathed Adelaide. Afterward she strapped the little girl into her baby seat and then rinsed herself in the shower. She toweled dry and quickly dressed herself. She took the baby carrier to the den.

Two minutes later, Gavin and Sam, scrubbed clean, entered the room. “We should play ‘Chopsticks,’” Sam said to Sara.

“Sounds good to me,” she said. She sat on the left side of the piano bench. Sam joined her on the right side. “I’ll play it through one time, okay?” she said.

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