My Snow Angel.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Every year, Freddie’s Christmas is made when Alice and her family come to visit him on his parents’ farm. Best friends, the two are inseparable… until one year, things start to change. Can Freddie win the heart of his little snow angel? Or has someone else got there first?

Submitted: December 21, 2011

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Submitted: December 21, 2011

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Dear my lovely readers,

I attempted to write a Christmas story, and thought I'd post it for you all... I'm still getting the hang of writing short stories, so I'm not sure whether this was a success or not! But anyway. Hope you have a lovely Christmas, and thank you so much for all your support and loveliness over this past year, I cannot believe how much things have escalated on Booksie... I never thought I'd reach 500 fans or be featured, so thank you SO much, it's all down to your support! so thank you :)

Much love, and take care, Maddie xoxo

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The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world, and you wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment, then where is it to be found?
~ J. B. Priestley.


It’s Christmas Eve. It’s that time of the year where even the air seems thick with anticipation, awaiting the coming day with excitement, the sound of faint carols making its way merrily across the chilly sky from the local church.

Pulling my coat more tightly around me, I step out into the frosty air, peering up at the sky, wondering if it’s possible for there to be any more snowfall before the big day. Looks like there might just be, judging by the ominous looking clouds. Some small children run past me, wrapped up warm in coats and hats and gloves and scarves, little excited faces flushed red with the cold, eyes alight with enthusiasm. One more sleep til Christmas.

There’s something very beautiful about the snow covering the farm like a thick blanket. As I sit there and stare at the white perfection, absentmindedly fiddling with my fingers, I think back slowly over it all, all the ways in which snow has been part of my life, marking my memories with the festive chill.

It was there that first day I met her. I can still remember the first time I met her, as clear as a picture. I know memories aren’t the most consistent of things to rely on, but I have it so firmly embedded in my mind that I can’t forget it.

I was seven years old when their car pulled up, the tyres skidding a little on the snow. I wasn’t paying much attention, instead throwing a ball for our farm dog, Tessie, and watching as she scampered through the thick blanket of white, her paw prints going deep enough to see the dark green grass beneath. Another family here to stay in the cottage adjacent to our farm house for the holidays? Made no difference to me.

A man and a woman got out of the car, reaching to open the other car door to let out an extremely small girl.

Losing all interest in Tessie, I stared openly. Her hair looked as if she’d been dunked upside down in a pot of scarlet paint; it was red, a shade I’d never seen before, contrasting sharply with her pale skin.

She returned my gaze steadily out of emerald coloured eyes, her small, pale oval face scattered with a light dusting of freckles. Then she looked down to Tessie, snow covered and panting, her tongue hanging out at my feet. ‘That’s a beautiful dog’ she said, as if she were conferring a great compliment upon me.

Right then, I warmed to her. Complimenting Tessie was the way to my seven year old heart.

‘I’m Freddie,’ I said, sticking out my hand with all the solemnity one has at nine.

‘Alice,’ she replied.

She was an only child, I soon learnt, and a lonely child. Holidays for her usually meant spending more time with her parents alone, bored and looking for something to do. I knew how she felt, a bit. I had three elder brothers, but they were all much older, and didn’t really have much to do with me, the little one. Sometimes they teased me, rugby tackled me, and I felt as if they’d noticed me. Most of the time, I wondered if they even knew I existed.

We spent all of that Christmas holiday together. I showed her around the farm, and she laughed at the cows, mooing so enthusiastically that their breath billowed out in great plumes of steam. I showed her the tractor, and she gazed with appropriate awe at the ginormous wheels, about twice her height. I even showed her the litter of kittens our cat had just produced in the barn; the kittens I hadn’t even told my parents about, for fear they’d take them away and sell them. It was our little secret.

I can see her now in my mind‘s eye, after Christmas dinner on Christmas day when we’d snuck out from the dinner table, full up of food. She was cradling the smallest kitten in her arms, her fingers gently tickling the white fur underneath its chin. I watched her, kind of intrigued. She was nothing like the girls at the school I went to. They squealed and giggled and talked about kissing boys, and hated getting their clothes dirty.

Alice was currently rather messy: we’d stuffed our pockets full of tidbits from the dinner table to feed the kittens, and there were patches of gravy and greasy smears of Christmas pudding on her dress.

She held a little strip of turkey above the kitten’s mouth, grinning as it hungrily devoured it, and then purred at her.

She looked up at me. ’You’re so lucky to live here,’ she said, wistfully.

‘What’s it like where you live?’ I asked, crouching to fondle the head of the mother cat, who was looking a bit miffed that her kittens had stolen all the attention.

‘Boring,’ said Alice. ’It’s just pavements and houses. There’s no cows or sheep, or tractors.’

I blinked in surprise. I couldn’t imagine a place with no cows or sheep or tractors. It sounded like a foreign country.

Alice squatted down next to me in the hay. ‘I don’t like boys,’ she told me, matter of factly. ‘Most of them pick their noses and smell funny.’ I rubbed my nose self consciously. ‘But I like you,’ she informed me. I remember feeling a warmth in my chest right then.

They came back every year after that. Alice and I became fast friends; I looked forward to her coming every Christmas like I looked forward to presents, and Christmas trees, and snow.

Then one Christmas, I realised she‘d grown up. I was sixteen, and she was fifteen, and she came out of the car, her hair now sweeping in flowing red curls down her back, her eyelashes thick and dark, her slender figure very pleasant to the eye, the beginnings of curves just visible beneath her thick coat.

I liked how she looked. I liked it so much, I felt a heat rise to my cheeks, despite the freezing weather. She blushed at the sight of me too, and it clashed adorably with her hair. For the first few moments, it was awkward. Then I reached out and hugged her, and it was just like old times. Only I now saw her as far more than the little friend I saw once a year. Now, she was beautiful.

I was worried she might have gotten girly, but she hadn’t changed a bit. She still squealed excitedly when we slid down the steep hill on the old wooden sledge. Only now, when we both clambered onto it, it was quite a tight fit. I felt distinctly awkward putting my arms around her waist, not because we weren’t comfortable together, but because of just how much I enjoyed the feeling of our bodies being so close. I could feel her warmth seeping through my clothes, soft parts of her pressing against me. It kind of frightened me. But it also kind of made me feel more alive.

We whizzed down the hill, going so fast she shrieked in delight, scenery whizzing past us as flecks of snow flew up from the front of the sledge as it swiftly shot across the ground.

Suddenly, the sledge lurched, catching on a rock and catapulting, launching dramatically into the sky, plunging us both into a snow drift, arms and legs tangled up in a rather intimate way that made my cheeks flush.

She was warm and soft beneath me, despite the freezing snow. I pushed myself up so I was propped over her, about to get up… when my eyes met her own. She was lying beneath me, red hair spilling out of her hat to fan around her, even brighter when contrasted against the white snow. She was out of breath and laughing, but it faded as she looked back at me, her emerald eyes glittering, a shadowy reflection of my own face just visible within their pale depths.

Amongst it all, she looked like a real life snow angel, dropped from heaven straight down into the midst of it all.

Her tongue ran unconsciously across her lips, a blush staining her cheeks. It was that which completely undid me. I moved a strand of hair gently away from her eyes, marvelling at how soft it felt, even with gloves on.

She moved, almost imperceptibly, towards me, her lips perfectly shaped to meet mine, I knew it. I could so nearly taste her.

God, what was I doing?

Swiftly getting up, we both hastily disentangled ourselves from one another, dusting the snow off of our clothes, carefully avoiding each other’s gaze. My heart was drumming in my ears, painfully.

The walk back to the top of the hill was silent. We both knew what had passed between us, both of our cheeks were still flushed with the memory, but to speak it aloud would make it real. If we didn’t say anything, we could both pretend it hadn’t happened.

When she left that year, the snow was falling still, and I was still wishing I had kissed her, still wishing I had made it more clear that I liked her as more than a friend. But she was too perfect for me. What would she want with a farmyard boy, who only saw her once a year? It wouldn’t work.

And besides, she probably had about a hundred boys after her where she lived anyway. Boys who didn’t live on a farm. Boys who saw her everyday, and got to almost kiss her everyday. Maybe she even had a boyfriend.

I hadn’t bothered to ask.

So I waved goodbye, feeling snow flakes land on my hair, and turned my face upwards to let the cold drops cool my hot cheeks. I’d fallen for her. I’d fallen for Alice. And it was going to be another 357 days until I saw her again.

That year, I counted down the days until she‘d come again. I found one of her long, red, shining hairs on my coat, clinging onto it just as close as I’d love to have her. I wanted her there with me.

I thought back over the week we’d spent together, and wondered if she was thinking of me too. Could she be thinking of me? What if she had a boyfriend? What if she hadn’t thought of me once? Freddie the farmer boy probably paled in comparison to all the confident, amazing boys who swept her off her feet.

The only sweeping her off her feet I managed to do was plummeting us both into a snow drift.

I kept on counting the days down, my excitement growing. Alice was coming. She was coming and I’d see her again, and it would be brilliant. I’d tell her how I felt, and we might even get to actually kiss this time. Or even hug. To be honest, even seeing her would be enough. Then I could arrange for some mistletoe to conveniently hover overhead, or plunge her into a snow drift again. It would work out, I knew it would.

I woke up on the day I was sure she would arrive with my heart beating fast. I was a complete mess over Alice, but the thing was, I couldn’t help it.

But Alice never came. The snow got too bad, and prevented her from making the journey down from her home. I can’t describe how upset I was. I wanted to physically shovel all the snow out of the way to let her get down to me, or to let me get up to her. I was devastated.

So another year passed before I saw her again. This time, I warily watched the weather forecast for an entire month before she was due to arrive, so scared that the same thing would happen again.

But we only got a light dusting of snow that year, and, on time, Alice arrived.

In the two years since I’d seen her, she’d blossomed even more. I remember having to check myself to make sure my jaw wasn’t hanging slack when she got out of the car. She’d managed to grow even more beautiful; still delicately sized, the sort of height for me to sweep her up in my arms… not that I should have been thinking about things like that. She’d let her hair get longer, her curves were more pronounced. But best of all were her eyes, which lit up when she saw me.

We hugged. She still smelt the same, the faintly flowery smell which, along with fresh hay, was my favourite smell in the world. As I held her to me, I could feel her heartbeat thumping against my chest.

That year, I was careful. Not that I was exactly treading on eggshells, but I was scared, scared of being too upfront, scared of frightening her off with how strongly I felt about her.

Because it was a bit weird, wasn’t it? I only saw her once a year. She’d probably be really freaked out.

But it was so hard not to just tell her exactly how I felt about her. I’d watch her, twirling in the snow, and want, desperately, to tell her how beautiful she was. I’d watch her cuddling the new set of newborn puppies and suddenly be filled with a longing to see her cuddling our first child… god, I was a total mess. If any of my friends had found out, I would have been the butt of all the jokes for the next year or so.

She was just setting down a very sleepy puppy from her arms on her last evening in the barn when it happened.

‘Awww, look at him,‘ she cooed, watching as the puppy nestled clumsily in with the other puppies, snuggling down with a thump onto the hay, his chunky little legs sprawled out across his neighbouring siblings.

I grinned at her. ‘He’s cute, isn’t he?‘ I said.

She nodded. We’d been eating chocolate, filled with caramel, and she had a little on her lips as she turned to look at me.

‘You’ve got a bit of chocolate…‘ I breathed, reaching out to gently wipe the caramel from her lips, my sentence dying as I struggled to find words when we were as close as we were right then.

I caught myself becoming fascinated by their red perfection, the plump little lower lip looking deliciously soft and… before I knew it, we were suddenly within an inch of each other, our breath intermingling. I was close enough to count the freckles on her face. My nose tentatively brushed against hers. She tilted her head.

And our lips met.

It was like magic, the way she melted into my arms, as if she belonged there, clinging to me as if to keep me to her always. She tasted of chocolate caramel, and something else, something that was so quintessentially her that I tightened my grasp around her, suddenly feeling as if there was nothing in the world but the two of us.

After what could have been days, or could have even been months, we broke apart, surfacing for air, her green eyes meeting mine. She looked surprised, as if I’d just chucked a snowball in her face. But I couldn’t help it. I beamed.

For a moment, she looked too stunned to do anything. But then she beamed back.

I went back in for another kiss, and then another, revelling in this magical sensation which made my entire body tingle. The hay beneath our feet crackled as I leant her back slightly, so her body was resting against a haystack, my hands gently stroking up and down her sides, exploring the curves I’d dreamt about for months.

Suddenly she pulled back.

‘Freddie?’ Her cheeks were flushed, as red as her hair, her lips larger than usual, her eyes sparkly and bright. But her expression worried me.

‘Alice?’ I replied softly, not wanting to break the moment between us.

‘Oh god,’ she said. ‘Oh god.’

‘What is it?’ I was starting to panic now, it looked like I’d really offended her, and now she’d probably never talk to me again and… ‘I’m sorry,’ I stuttered, feeling ashamed. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘No, no!’ Alice shook her head. ‘It’s fine. It’s just… well, I have a crush on this boy back home, and er, I don’t know. I shouldn’t be kissing you. Sorry.’

Hearing the words escape her mouth was more painful than I’d ever thought possible. Nodding, I sat down on the haystack nearby, letting the words sink in. She liked someone else. Of course she did. What was I, Freddie, the silly farmer’s boy who probably smelt of hay, compared to her crush? Who was I to think I ever had a chance with someone as perfect as Alice?

‘We can forget that happened,’ I tell her. ‘It was my fault, I’m sorry.’

She came over to my side, resting one hand on my shoulder. ‘No, don’t apologise.’ Putting one finger under my chin, she tilted my head so I was forced to look at her. ‘I actually enjoyed it,’ she said, with a cheeky grin.

Then, with a gentle ruffle of my hair, she headed off. I watched her disappear, puzzled. Did I have a chance, after all?

The year after that, something seemed different between us. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but we were closer. Almost inseparable, we’d both get up early every morning and walk out in the snowy fields, Tess’s puppies gallivanting around in front of us, scampering through snow drifts and yelping. On those walks, we talked and talked and talked about everything. Our plans for later life, our childhood, reminiscing about the old days we’d spent together, the snowmen we’d made, the snowball fights we’d had.

I almost kissed her again so many times. That one kiss in the barn had played on my mind throughout the year we’d been apart.

It was Boxing Day when we both clambered into our new tractor, a great big one. The snow was falling again, and it was cold outside, so we both got in, wrapped up warm in our coats, grinning at each other.

‘I love the snow,’ Alice said wistfully, looking out of the window. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘So are you,’ I said, before I could stop myself.

Her head snapped round. It was true, she looked even more stunning than usual with her hair tucked up into her hat, little tendrils escaping to frame her face, her eyes enormous.

I chuckled lightly, attempting to make it into a joke. ‘No need to look so surprised.’

‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she replied, after a heartrending pause. She smiled at me. It killed me, absolutely, whenever she looked at me like that.

Then, before I knew it, before I could even blink, she was leaning over into my arms, her lips grazing against mine, and I was pulling her so she was straddling my lap, her hands locked around my neck, tugging my hat off and twining her fingers in my hair.

I kissed her back hungrily, seeking confirmation that she meant this, that she wanted to kiss me this time, that she wasn’t going to reveal another crush. My tongue swept across the seam of her lips, seeking entry, and she let me in immediately.

It was heaven; utter bliss, utter perfection. I wanted nothing more than to stay here in this tractor forever, kissing her, and holding her, and just being with her.

Then she bit down on my lower lip.

My eyes opened in shock, and met hers. She had a devilish glint sparkling in the emerald coloured depths, biting her own lip almost shyly. That was what undid me.

Flipping her over, so her back was pressed against the tractor window, I used my arms to pin her there, pressing our torsos together, biting down on her lip to get her back, and almost dying with pleasure when she moaned softly, twining herself closer to me, her slender body sending shivers down my spine wherever she was pressing against me. Oh god, how did she do these things to me? It was almost as if she knew exactly what turned me on, and was attempting to drive me to breaking point.

When we finally stopped, I was shocked that the tractor windows hadn’t steamed up from all the passion.

I held her tightly in my arms, scared she might change her mind, and looked at her, her erratic breaths on the offbeat of mine.

‘So er, that crush you mentioned last time?’ I asked eventually, yet still tentatively. I didn’t want to dampen the mood, but I felt like I needed to know, before this amazingly beautiful fairy tale like world I was holding in my arms shattered before my eyes, melted like the snow would.

Alice chuckled. ‘Him? He’s nothing. Ever since then, I’ve been thinking about you and how you’re a million, billion times better than any other boy I’ve ever met.’

I felt my face heat up. ‘You little charmer.’

She bit her lip, looking back at me cheekily. ‘Do you have any other crushes, then, Freds?’

I gave her a look. ‘What do you think?’

She grinned. I couldn’t help it. I leant in, pressing a kiss to her gorgeous little nose, and then moved down to her lips.

After that, everything was perfect. We started dating, and, while she lived far away, there was a train that went sort of directly to her, now that she was studying at university, and so I started travelling up, and she came travelling down.

It was strange seeing her in the summer, in the spring and in the autumn. Having only seen her in winter, I’d never been able to fully appreciate the way she looked in shorts and a strappy t-shirt, revealing slender legs I couldn’t have imagined better myself.

But, despite this, my favourite time of year was still the winter. Perhaps that was because snow had just been there throughout our lives. We even woke up to snow the first time we spent the night together.

I remember waking up, sleepily rubbing my bleary eyes, memories of the night before rushing back to me. We’d started off innocently kissing, but, somewhere along the line, it had gotten more heated. I guess being home alone had gone to our heads, and we ended up tangling our bed sheets in a way that exceeded all my expectations.

She was just getting up beside me, the smooth covers slipping off of her delicate skin as she moved across the room, picking up the t-shirt of mine she’d carelessly discarded the night before and slipping it on as she pulled the curtains aside. God, how was everything that she did so seductive?

The light outside was that familiar funny colour. Snow.

I got out of bed too, not wanting to spend a single second without her, and followed her, going up behind her and kissing the one little freckle on her shoulder, contrasting with the pale skin.

She turned and grinned at me, her cheeks going a little red as she clearly remembered what had happened before. I liked the way she looked, her lips swollen, her hair all tangled from my fingers and our, er, activities, and my t-shirt swamping those curves I’d become more than well acquainted with only hours before.

‘Morning, beautiful,’ I said, huskily pressing a kiss on her neck, moving up to her lips. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

‘You don’t regret what we did?’ she asked after a while, looking up at me with an adorable shyness I couldn’t help but love.

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Regret? You must be mad, missy.’ I stroked a strand of hair back from her face. ‘Why, do you?’

She shook her head fervently. ‘Best night of my life,’ she told me, with that cheeky glint in her eyes I knew so well. ‘May there be many more.’

And right then, I knew for sure. This was something serious, it wasn’t just a teenage romance. This was definitely love.

We’d proved it could last too. Despite the distance, we made it work. After five blissful years together, marked only by the mildest of arguments that were soon resolved, and an extremely high travelling bill, I asked her to marry me.

I had been so nervous leading up to the big proposal, but I needn’t have worried. She’d cried and hugged me and said yes so many times that I was entirely convinced she was as sure about this as I was.

I’d been praying that it would snow on our wedding day, and it did.

I can still remember the way she looked, her dress the same pure shade as the snow spread across the ground. As she came down the aisle, fresh from outside, there were little snowflakes caught in her hair like diamonds, and she looked so beautiful it was all I could do to catch my breath.

She was everything I wanted, and so, so much more.

And she still is now. I hear footsteps behind me, and turn around to see her, grinning at me, holding out a glass of steaming mulled wine.

I put one arm around her. ‘Alright?’

She grins. ‘Perfect.’

Our cosy little hug is almost disastrously ended as a little person runs past, knocking my legs.

Pippa. Only three years ago, Alice completed my happiness by giving birth to our little daughter, a red haired little monster who forever had us cracking up with her rather amusing sense of humour.

Flinging herself into the snow with the sort of careless abandon reminiscent of her mother, she plunges straight in, frantically waving her little arms and legs about to make a snow angel, and then ruining the effect in her haste to get up and look at the result.

Alice shakes her head. ‘Just when she was all clean from the bath,’ she says, with the sort of motherly smile I completely adore. Seeing her with our little one was probably the most beautiful experience of my life.

I turn to look at her, smiling, and notice she doesn’t have a glass of wine for herself.

‘Did you not want any wine?’ I ask her anxiously, knowing it’s her favourite Christmas drink.

Her cheeks flush a little as she shakes her head. ‘Oh no, no, I’m fine.’

I frown. ‘Are you sure?’

A little smile twists her lips. ‘Yes.’

I set the glass down and pull her to face me. ‘Alice, what aren’t you telling me?!’ I ask her, in a mock angry tone.

She sighs. ‘It was going to be a Christmas surprise, but ah well.’ She looks at me, scrunching up her nose. ‘I can’t have any wine because there’s a little someone who isn’t old enough for it yet.’

Reaching for my hands, she pulls them to rest on her stomach, and I look at her in shock. ‘A baby?!’

She nods, biting her lip. ‘I’m afraid so,’ she says, but she‘s grinning, and me? Well, I‘m grinning even more.

I lift her into my arms, holding her tightly and spinning her round. ‘Oh my god, Alice, that’s amazing, oh my god, you amazing woman, oh my-’

She giggles adorably. ‘You’re as much to blame as I am, mister,’ she informs me, as I set her down, and she stumbles a little giddily on her feet. ‘If I remember, there were two involved in this.’

I give her a look, eyebrows raised. ‘Oh, I remember.’

‘Daddy?’

Oops. Shouldn’t really be talking about things like that in front of the children.

I glance down at my little girl. Her red hair dripping wet from her adventures in the snow, she grins beatifically up at me. ‘Look!’

Holding out her palm, she shows me a handful of snow she seems to have collected. ‘Can I grow it in a pot like the tomatoes?’ she inquires. ‘I want to keep it all year round.’

I laugh. ‘It only comes at a special time of year,’ I tell her, crouching down so we’re face to face. ‘And I’ll tell you a secret,’ I add.

Her eyes widen excitedly, making her look just like her mother. ‘What is it?’ she whispers excitedly.

‘Whenever there’s snow, magical things happen,’ I reply.

She blinks. ‘So will there be lots more?’ she inquires.

I nod. ‘Oh yes. Plenty.’

She grins devilishly. ‘Well that’s alright then,’ she tells me, and, lifting her hand, throws her handful of precious snow straight at me.

‘PIPPA!’ I shout, picking up a handful of snow myself and racing after her as she shrieks with laughter, and runs from me.

Before long, Pippa, Alice and I are all frolicking in the snow together, cold and wet, but blissfully happy. Because what I told Pippa was true. Snow really does make magical things happen. Or perhaps it just makes them more magical than they already are. Whatever the case, I know that for me, snow will always remind me of all these little memories I share with Alice, Pippa, and soon another little one too. And I can’t think of a better way to remind myself.

 


© Copyright 2017 Maddie Grey. All rights reserved.

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