Page 26 of A Swan for Christmas

“I-I’m sorry, p-please don’t be m-mad. I l-love you so much, but it keeps going flat and I-I-I…” He hiccupped and tipped his head back and locked eyes with Vic, tears streaming down his face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought you were dangerous and I like blacked out or something. All I could think of was beating someone’s face in and pecking their eyes out.”

Damn. His sweet swan had a quite a streak in him. Then, a wild image of Finn and the herd of gangster swans showing up in town flashed through his mind. “Do you think someone’s coming to get you?”

“Not me. The egg. But I’m not worried about anyone in particular.”

Vic tensed, his stomach tightening in anticipation. “You laid an egg!”

Kellan’s lip trembled again, and he shook his head. “That’s just it. There’s no egg. Nothing. My belly still feels hard the way it’s been for a while, so no big change there. But I have to get the blankets right and there’s not enough of them. And the towels are too scratchy. I need extra thick, plushy ones that are nice and soft. Oh, and snails. I need lots and lots of snails.”

“Snails?” Vic pulled his lips back in a grimace. “What do you need those for?”

Kellan inclined his head as he drew his eyebrows together. “To eat. I’m starving.”

Gross.

“Uh, okay.” Vic laced his fingers with Kellan and gently led him to the sofa. “Come on, sweetheart. Why don’t you sit here on my lap and we’ll figure all this out together.”

“Thanks, Vic.” He climbed onto Vic’s thighs then wrapped his arms around Vic’s shoulders. “I need you most of all. No one ever helped me, explained what an egg-layer is supposed to do. I was so young when my mom died that she never had a chance to prepare me.” He regarded Vic. “What if there’s something else I should be doing for the egg? What if I’m at the restaurant and the egg suddenly comes then?”

“Uh…” Vic had the sudden urge to visit Rosemary. I wonder if she could use an apple pie right about now? “Let’s take this one step at a time.” He cleared his throat. “Can you show me what you mean about the blankets going flat?”

“Sure.”

Kellan hopped off Vic’s lap then gestured for him to follow. As soon as Vic stepped through the threshold of the bedroom, he could see what Kellan meant. In the middle of their king-sized bed was a jumble of blankets all bunched together. They’d been shaped into a vague representation of a bowl, the middle of the pile showing a slight depression. But he could see what Kellan meant. A couple sides had sagged, and it appeared to Vic that every time Kellan had tried to smoosh the stiff, wool coverings into a circle, one of the other areas would flop over then fall flat. He rubbed his chin through his beard.

“Well, I’m certainly no expert at nest building, but maybe if we got some long pillows, you know, like those back-support kinds, we could make a frame. Then, we could get a bunch of softer blankets, maybe a puffy comforter as a base, and fill the middle section. All you’d have to do then was make a depression in the middle to…” He scratched his head. “To do whatever it is you need to do.”

Kellan wiped his face with the back of his hand and let out another hiccup. He glanced up at Vic. “That would be perfect! I’m sure I could make that work.” His shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry I’m causing so much trouble.”

Vic scooped up a surprised Kellan in his arms and gave him a big kiss. He set him back on his feet but couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t still his hands as he stroked his back and ran his fingers through Kellan’s hair.

“How could you call getting ready for your egg trouble? This is incredible.”

Kellan pressed his cheek to Vic’s chest, clutching at his shirt. “Our egg. This is our egg.” He sniffed. “At least, I hope there’s an egg.” He peered up at Vic. “Otherwise, why am I so compelled to build a nest?”

“Maybe that’s your answer, then. Your instincts are leading you and even though another swan isn’t here to guide you, you’ll know what to do when the time comes.”

Kellan seemed to ponder Vic’s words, but the doubt clouding his features hadn’t faded. Vic squeezed his shoulders, offering him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Never had he been so out of his element on anything.

Rosemary. Pie.

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t I run out and buy a bunch of blankets and pillows, then when I get back, I’ll help you.” He frowned. “Or is that something I’m not supposed to interfere with?”

“You can help. The egg-layer does most of the actual building, but the mate usually gets materials for the nest, so this is perfect.” He sighed. “I feel a little better. Thank you, Vic.” Kellan glanced at the pile on the bed again. “Oh, the towels. I want to line the inside with cushy, soft towels.”

“You’ve got it. Plenty of towels, too.”

Kellan followed Vic as he made his way back to the front of the cabin to put on his outerwear again.

“And don’t forget the snails. I can’t stop thinking about them.”

Vic tried not to make a gagging noise. “I’ll do the best I can. I’m not sure where to get anything like that, especially this time of year.”

“You don’t have any frozen ones in the restaurant?”

“Not last time I checked.”

Skip’s gonna love this. His cook still wouldn’t shut up about the damn ducks.