Dala Horse Inn by Ellen Jenkins

Author:Ellen Jenkins [Jenkins, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBT, holiday, lesbian, bisexual, contemporary
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2017-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

TILDE THOUGHT IT would be awkward going to bed that night, after a whole day of pretending to be something they weren’t. Instead, they were so tired they barely managed to change before collapsing onto the mattress.

“G’night, Tilde,” Emma managed, her voice muffled by the pillow and slurred from exhaustion.

Tilde preferred being called darling.

TILDE WOKE UP with Emma wrapped around her again, hot and solid against her back. She slipped free without waking Emma and tried to go about her usual routine quietly. It sort of worked. Emma didn’t wake up while she was getting dressed, but she did show up in the kitchen before the sun had fully risen.

She looked like she could do with another few hours of sleep, but instead of going back to bed, she curled up in the armchair with a blanket and forced her eyes to stay open as Tilde prepared breakfast for the day.

The day gradually devolved into the chaos that always accompanied family reunions. Everything was horrifically stressful, except for the small oasis of relaxation Tilde found when Emma was nearby. Tilde had never had to host a full event on her own before, certainly not one that was over a week long. She could feel the absence of her grandfather like an ache in her heart. The pressure of his memory didn’t make anything easier.

She retreated to the kitchen as much as possible, hoping her family could entertain themselves, and focused on the parts of hosting that she knew best. Everyone was always on better behavior when they were full, and she could make sure there was always food available. Her grandpa had gradually passed more and more responsibilities to her as he aged, but the kitchen had been the first.

Grandpa had been one of those people with a natural charisma that drew people to him like a moth to a flame. When Tilde had been a sullen, quiet teenager, he was the only one who could coax her to laughter. He had taught her how to make traditional Swedish coffee with a raw egg for creaminess. He taught her how to knead limpa, how to roll meatballs, and how to make glögg. He showed her the power of food to make another person smile.

She missed the way his hands would work the dough and craft a loaf from nothing but raw eggs and flour and water.

She missed the way he would turn a piece of wood over and over in his hands and whittle away at it until the shape of a horse emerged, stiff-legged but smooth. She missed the way he would paint each horse bright red, then try his hand at painting in the saddle in white, green, blue, and yellow. Each Christmas, he would carve her a new Dala horse and leave it for her under the tree, a new addition to the collection of horses the inn was named after.

It didn’t feel like the family was all there without him.

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