Christmas Doings Read online

  Christmas

  Doings

  MariaLisa deMora

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Copyright © 2018 MariaLisa deMora

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  First Published 2018

  ISBN 13: 978-1-946738-19-6

  DEDICATION

  Because creating a found family

  can be frightening as well as freaking fabulous.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  When I decided on the idea of writing another holiday novella for our RWMC family, I was pretty darn eager. I’ve had such fun with them in the past, shining light on the day-to-day lives of some of our favorites, and couldn’t wait to see which couple came forwards to tell me their Christmas story this year.

  The ones who kept circling back in my mind were two people who so deserved to have a great Christmas. From the beginning, Ester was entirely on board with the idea, chattering away about the pups and tiny humans, but she and I had to talk Bones into taking the ride with us. He can be a grumpy Gus when he doesn’t want to cooperate, but he eventually came around and I found his voice again.

  Since this is a story released around the Christmas holidays, I was looking for something sweet and precious, a book that would warm people’s hearts, and make them smile. Perhaps an extension of the tale from Bones and Ester’s original holiday season when he quickly discovered how doings were the most important in the history of everything for her.

  I didn’t get that at first. Instead, once we got past the funny feathered friends and puppies, Ester steered me down a path that resonated with pain, so much dark flickering with only brief flashes of happy mixed into the story. That was our Ester all over, just keeping it real for me as she is wont to do, and making me dig deeper, even for a holiday novella. She’s ever been one to require greater effort, and I think this story is well worth every sleepless night spent in crafting it. It comes out right in the end, I promise you.

  If you’ve read the other stories, you already understand her pain. But, if you’ve seen the cover, you should know this book holds the best of all possible HEAs. Because, truly, is there a better kind of holiday story than one of true love? And puppies, we can’t forget the puppies!

  In this holiday season, I want to send out a heartfelt thank you to every parent who puts their child first, whether adopted, fostered, or natural. Within the lives you shelter, you are molding the future, and the tiny humans you nurture and love will someday rule the world. That’s a heady responsibility, but I have faith you’re up for it.

  Ester and Bones might be my favorite couple in the history of ever, and I’m honored they’ve chosen me to bring their tale to you. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and the Best of Joyous Doings to you all.

  Woofully yours, and with so much love,

  ~ML

  Christmas Doings

  Ester has become adept at taking what life handed her and figuring out how to make the best of a bad situation. Lemonade made from lemons with a quick twist of the wrist and judicious application of whatever sweetener happened to be at hand. Dogs, birds, kids, and every day being Bonesday—these were the best in the history of everything when it came to making her happy.

  And when her old man—a big bad biker named Bones—is on a mission to give her everything she ever wanted, she quickly learns to accept the inevitable and hold on for the ride.

  Along the way, there are club whores, Great Dane pups, ride-or-die brothers, and tiny humans. Is there a better kind of holiday story than one of true love?

  Chapter One

  Bones

  Emilio Salvador de Villa Ramos looked through the windows of his kitchen and out towards the medium-sized backyard. He’d owned the house for years and knew its unique features like the back of his hand. After so long, even he had become a fixture in the community. The longsuffering neighbors had come to anticipate the unexpected from him, and his frequent guests.

  Bones, as he was best known in his world, had a habit of looking into the backyard at this time of day. Just home from his job overseeing the roster of mechanics at a local exclusive motorcycle shop, he leaned a hip against the counter near the door. He stared, shoulders dropping an inch as he relaxed for the first time that day. He pulled in a deep breath and fixed his attention on the woman who was carrying a pair of buckets, fussily tending a grouping of unique, creative bird feeders and baths.

  My Ester.

  He smiled as he noted the new feeder she’d added at some point in the past week. The ornate, refurbished lantern was eclectic and uncommon, and fit right in with the rest of her collection. There were flat platforms balanced on metal sculptures, and those stood beside elaborate, multilevel gravity feeders made from antique stained glass. Each was as individual as Ester herself.

  She glanced up and caught sight of him, giving him a view of her wide smile as she carefully set a bucket down and waved vigorously. With broad gestures, she wordlessly asked if he wanted to come outside. Bones shook his head from side to side and laughed aloud when she pretended to pout. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered with dramatic flair. Waving her hand around, she looked to be conducting a symphony, calling upon one section after another to give up their talents at her whim. With the eye-rolling at the end, he knew she was most likely talking to him. She would be extolling the virtues of their garden, currently covered in about a foot of snow. Still shaking her head, she flipped a dismissive hand his direction before bending back to her task, and he watched with amusement as two birds landed on her hat, as impatient as he was for her to be done.

  Her feathered friends were vocal and demanding, but loyal Ester was more than up for the challenge of keeping them fed and watered through the winter months, no matter how much ice and cold Old Man Winter threw their direction. She’s always been like that, he mused. Strong and loyal, dedicated to her cause.

  Their third Thanksgiving together had come and gone, and they had celebrated as he wanted, he and Ester sharing the holiday with a few select men he called brother, accompanied by their significant others. She’d applied the same traits that made her a devoted caregiver for the birds to the gathering. That meant she’d thrown herself into the planning of the day, beginning with the tray of pancakes she’d made and brought back to bed in time for them to watch the parade on TV. She hadn’t considered that pancakes came with syrup, so for a time, there was no thought given to the TV, to the celebrities or floats. Balloons, large and small, went past the cameras, and all he could focus on was sipping the sweetness from her body.

  So the holiday had started in great form and continued as their guests had arrived.

  Their guests, and their children.

  The children had been both the best and the worst of that evening. Ester had gone over the guest list with him dozens of times. She’d asked question after question, quizzing him and making certain she knew even the smallest detail about each attendee. She’d learned names and jobs, and how long they’d been in the motorcycle club of which he was a member and Chicago chapter president, the Rebel Wayfarers MC. Based out of the Mother chapter, most of the men had been to Bones and Ester’s home before. Singly or in pairs, but se
ldom before in a large group. Beginning with confirming their visitors were known and well-tolerated by Ester, Bones had tried to ensure there would be no surprises to trip her up.

  He smiled, still watching out the windows. She was on the move, bucket swinging wildly, and he sighed, chuckling softly. The sight of Ester tromping through the garden in oversized galoshes, knees raised high to keep snow from spilling down into the tops of her boots, was enough to lift his spirits no matter the kind of day he’d had. She was followed by a grouping of birds, the tiny winged creatures staying up with her by hops and wing flaps across the crust of the snow, and he imagined they chattered to her with peeps and cheeps. Like chicks. Baby chicks, following their mother.

  He sighed deeply, pulling in a big breath and holding it for a moment before blowing it back out.

  There’d still been surprises at Thanksgiving. No matter how he’d tried to buffer her, tried to protect her and keep her from emotional hurt and pain, it had hunted and found her.

  Road Runner and Aurelie had come. This was a couple Ester held a great fondness for, and she’d eagerly met them at the door. No shocks there, thank God. His patch brother Road Runner had looked startled when Ester had walked straight into his arms for a hug, but he’d smiled at her greeting, which would have been nonsensical to anyone but him. “Live free, and you do, and that’s how I remember you best.” She’d been referencing words the in-demand Chicago-based chef had tattooed on his knuckles, something Bones had heard her question him about a dozen times. Aurelie had been kind over the years the women had known each other, which earned her own welcome, a sideways hug that didn’t last long, but Bones had known Aurelie understood what it cost Ester to offer even that.

  His Ester was sweet and loving, but burdened by her past. Demons dogged her steps, flowing through her movements and words, causing her limbs to betray her at times, or her head. I love her as she is. The thought was accompanied by an emotion so fierce Bones’ skin heated in response. I love her. There was no justification, no excusing, no downplaying how he felt. He simply loved her as she was. Because she was how she was. Beautiful, quirky and fae, and beloved.

  Bones waited and watched as a bundled-up Ester made her way in from outside. She paused a moment on the mat to stamp her feet in a flurry of gestures, concentrated on knocking the snow off her boots. Each motion a concert, a symphony of Ester punctuated by the staccato cries of the birds outside, their voices echoing her childlike movements.

  His Ester was unique, a treasure Bones cherished, holding tight to her with both hands. He’d loved her as long as he’d known her, from the first moment when she held out her hand, quoting a ridiculous line from a movie as she rescued him. For some, he knew her particular brand of unique would seem to lean more towards unbalanced, or disturbed, but Bones understood her and trusted she was as solidly sane as anyone else. His Ester just had a different way of interacting with the world.

  Plowboy and his girlfriend had come to Thanksgiving dinner, too. Regrettably, their arrival was the beginning of things going awry.

  It was still up in the air if Bones could get past that, because Plowboy was a favorite of Ester’s.

  Though a member of the club now, the man had been a prospect when she first met him. From that day forwards, Ester insisted on calling him Crowder, for reasons only she and Plowboy fully understood. Bones hadn’t known the girlfriend had a daughter, a pretty little redhead about six years old. Ester’s cry of delight at finding the trio waiting on the steps had been loud and heartfelt, and Bones had met Plowboy’s gaze over her head, his brother’s expression sad and apologetic. He knew. He knew the situation because all Bones’ brothers knew, but Plowboy hadn’t realized until that exact moment what he’d bought by bringing the child along.

  Sweet and shy, the little girl hadn’t wandered far from her mother at first, but Ester had been determined. She’d persistently worked at winning her over so that before long, the girl was hanging from Ester’s back like a monkey, arms wrapped around Ester’s neck, holding tightly.

  Then had come Red and his old lady, along with their surprise accompaniment of four grandchildren. Bones shook his head at the memory of Ester’s glance over her shoulder, the tribe of children gathered at her feet. Her expression had been equal parts pleasure and pain, the fragility of her balance shining from her eyes. Then she’d turned back and giggled happiness at the kids, holding out her hands in a promise of safekeeping.

  Each arrival had given the house yet another cadre of children to add to the corps already trailing behind Ester.

  She’d been driven to please them all. Ice cream, pie, cake, piggyback rides, reading books, adventures in the garden—activity after activity, each spiraling into the other until it was a blur. It hadn’t taken long for Bones’ brothers and their old ladies to notice how frantic she’d become, spinning from one activity to the next with hardly a breath between. Then had come the looks from them, pitying and sad. Ester had seen, a quick glance back snagging her tight as if caught in a net, and Bones’ heart stopped in his chest when she turned motionless in the living room, staring at him, her eyes welling with tears. Wordless, without a sound, she’d escaped to their bedroom, and he’d followed her, leaving their guests to see themselves out.

  Bones held a bath towel out as she pushed the door closed behind her, shutting out the biting cold wind. She accepted the fluffy cloth and ruffled it across her hair, then down her face and neck, her gorgeous smiling face peeking through the folds at him. “Did you see them?” Still in her galoshes, she twisted to look out the window at the birdhouses now covered in colorful avian visitors. “They were all whoosh and booosh, then the quiet standing on my head as if I were a statue.” She looked back at him. “I had so much fun. Feathered friends are my favorites.”

  “Indeed.” He bent over and lifted her foot, slipping the boot off and setting it aside before he moved to the next. “And you seem to be a favorite of theirs.” Straightening, he cupped her cold-reddened cheeks in his palms. “You are chilled through, my Ester. Sit, and I will make cocoa.”

  She shivered and nodded, made her way to the table and jumped to sit on it, facing the garden. She could sit like that for hours, staring at the birds as they ate the feast spread before them. Birds, bunnies, stray cats and dogs, Ester adopted anything that looked to need mothering and care. She loved them all.

  It wasn’t that Ester didn’t like kids.

  She just couldn’t have any of her own.

  ***

  “What party?” Bones placed his fresh drink on the coffee table and then rolled his neck, wincing when it popped and cracked. “I was unaware of a mandatory party.” He finished the stretching movement and leaned his head against the back of the couch. He glared over at Red. “I am certainly unaware of approving such. Are we expecting all members?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I heard from Tater.” Red shrugged as he leaned sideways to pull a kerchief from his back pocket. He took his glasses off, using the soft fabric to buff the shiny surfaces. He lifted them to check his progress and scowled. “Dammit. I fuckin’ hate these things. Jesus, gettin’ old is a bitch.”

  “You feel yourself to be old?” Bones didn’t bother to hide his shock. “You are younger than I am.”

  “Rode hard, brother.” Red shook his head with a grin. “Been put up wet one too many times, I guess. Comes with the territory.”

  “You have children, yes?” Bones watched him slide the glasses back into place. “Two girls, if I remember correctly?”

  “Hardly children anymore. My oldest is twenty next month, and her sister is only a year behind her.” Red smiled broadly, eyes curved into commas with pleasure. “God willing, I won’t be a grandpa for a long time yet, but I do love my girls.”

  “Can you imagine your life without them?” Bones didn’t miss the flinch Red gave at his question. “I do not mean that in a coarse way, but my Ester…” He paused to take a deep breath. “You know the challenge, yes?”

  “Yeah, brother.�
�� Red’s voice was filled with pain, and Bones knew it was for him. “She wanted a kid, right?” Bones nodded, even if the tense wasn’t right. She wants one. Red’s voice lowered as he said, “I’m sorry, Bones. I wish I could do something. I’d do anything to help her.”

  “But there is nothing to be done. I know.” He scrubbed across his chin, digging fingertips into the scruff along his cheeks. “Ester wants children. She cannot have them. These are facts in my life.”

  “Do you?” This came from behind him, and Bones arched his neck, looking over towards the bar to find the man associated with the familiar voice.

  “Mason. I did not know you would be here today.” He pushed to his feet and crossed the distance, wrapping an arm around the shoulders of his oldest friend. They exchanged back poundings, fists thumping vigorously, almost to the point of pain. “It is good to see you, my friend.”

  “Good to be seen, brother.” Mason crooked a finger at the prospect behind the bar and walked to where Red stood, exchanging another warrior’s embrace. “So”—he accepted the beer from the prospect with a nod—“do you?”

  “Do I what?” Bones reclaimed his seat on the couch, elbows spread across the top of the cushions as he relaxed, knowing nothing could harm him here.

  “Want kids?” Mason studied him as he asked the question, and Bones felt the heavy scrutiny like a weight on his skin. “You missin’ having rug rats of your own?”

  “I dream of seeing Ester’s face on a child in my arms.” He spoke plainly, with no inflection, doing his best to hold close and hide all the aching and hurt that single statement encompassed. “I watched my woman pull up every ounce of courage in her body to step foot inside a place that terrifies her, with good reason. My Ester willingly put herself into the maw of what she sees as a monster, to find answers. The doctors were gentle, they were kind, but the answers they gave us broke her inside. Word by word, they broke parts from her soul and left them scattered at her feet. I prayed to the saints that it was my failure, so I could take it on myself to correct however that came about. It is not, and that slices deep, brother.” He took in a deep breath, steadying his voice to continue.