Three Little Words

“Never. But… I don’t know how to explain it. I think God brought you into my life for a reason. He nourishes my soul, but He knows I need someone to nourish my mind and body too.”

“And that’s where I come in?”

“Of course. He knows what He’s doing.”

“You really believe that, don’t you? That God is directing your life?”

“No, of course not. He gave us free will, so we make our own decisions.

But on some level, I think He is guiding me.”

“Did He guide you into bed with me?”

“Don’t be crass. But since you asked, Mr. Doubting Thomas, I believe He did. He knew I was missing something in my life.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“Thank you.” She kissed my chest and breathed a deep sigh.

We lay together in companionable silence and listened to the sounds of the house as it warmed in the morning sun.

“How’s your head?” she said after a minute.

“The big one or the little one?”

“Both.”

“The big one is hungover. The little one is hoping for some attention.”

“Isn’t he always?”

“Hungover? No, only when I drink too much.”

She laughed and swatted playfully. “No, I mean the little head. Isn’t he always hoping for attention?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how you feel about a blowjob before Mass.”

“I think God’s probably okay with it,” she said, only half facetious. She reached under the sheet and found my penis. “Besides, my body will always need nourishment.”

I started to say something stupid like “It’s God’s will,” but then thought better of it. Christy was serious about her faith, and I shouldn’t mock her for it. I didn’t think about God very often, but if He made her happy, that was

good enough for me.

Trip and Wren headed to the slopes before Christy returned from church.

They were still a little hungover, but they wanted to get the most out of their lift tickets.

“Have fun,” I said as they left. “We’ll join you after lunch.”

I sat next to the wood-burning stove and took out my pocket sketchbook.

I designed A-frame houses for the next hour, mostly for fun. I was putting the finishing touches on one when I heard the door open. Christy danced in, apple-cheeked and sporting a sunshine smile.

“Are we the only ones here?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I told her about Trip and Wren and plans to meet them.

“How long do we have?”

“Not long. Why?”

“Then we’d better hurry.”

“Hurry? Wh—?”

She sank to her knees and reached for my fly.

“What’re you doing?” I asked, although it was obvious.

“Can’t talk now. Need to suck.” She went straight to work and finished me off in about five minutes. “Oh my gosh,” she said as she sat back to catch her breath. “I’ve been thinking about that all morning.”

“Even during Mass?”

“I know, right! I felt so guilty at first. But then I decided it was a test.”

“Um… did you pass?”

“I stayed till the end of the service. Then I rushed back and… um…

nourished my body.” She sighed and rested her head on my thigh. “Oh, Paul, I love you so much right now.”

“I love you too. Care to prove it again?”

“A blowjob doesn’t prove I love you,” she said with exaggerated patience. “It’s an expression of my love.”

“Okay. Care to express it again?”

“I’d love to.”

We ate a simple dinner that evening and finished off the wine. Afterward, we soaked in the hot tub and polished off the whiskey as well. We were all fairly drunk by then, so we didn’t even open the champagne. We decided to leave it as a thank-you gift for the cabin’s owner instead.

The next morning we cleaned up, drained the hot tub, and packed our things. Christy and I had to fly to San Diego, while Trip and Wren had a much longer trip, from Reno to Denver and then on to Nashville. They drove us to the airport in Truckee, but they couldn’t hang around to see us off. They needed to get to Reno in time to return the rental car, so we said goodbye and wished them a safe trip.

The day was windy and bitterly cold, but the skies were clear, with unlimited ceiling and visibility. Christy made a call to her parents while I stowed the luggage and preflighted the plane. Our flight to San Diego was routine, and her mother met us at the FBO there.

“Harold went to the office today,” she explained. “He was restless and wanted to get a head start on the new year.”

“No problem,” I said as we headed toward the parking lot.

Anne drove a Mercedes convertible, and I took one look at it and knew the skis weren’t going to fit in the trunk.

“Oh, dear,” she said, “I should’ve let Harold take my car.”

“It’s okay. We’ll make it work.” I tried every angle I could, but we eventually decided to put the top down and angle the skis across the back seat.

“We’re going to be chilly driving home,” Anne warned.

“Nah. It’ll be fun.”

She brightened with a sunny smile, a more mature version of Christy’s.

“Christine said you’d remind us of Laurence.”

“I hope that isn’t a bad thing.”

“Of course not, dear. He was such a happy young man, always positive.”

Christy beamed at me.