Stranded: A Christmas Story Read Online Free PDF

Carter…”
    “Mason,” he said. “You can call me Mason.”
    “The world doesn’t work like that, Mason,” she said. “People judge you on how you look. Their opinion matters.”
    “Why?”
    She thought about it. “It just…does. And yeah, I guess I am looking for validation from Paul, even if it may seem shallow.”
    “It doesn’t seem shallow, it is shallow,” he said.
    Lydia frowned. “Why are you so mean to me?”
    He laughed and stood to take the plates. She stood with him and picked up the cups, glad to be off her sore bum.
    “I’m not mean,” he said. “I’m just being honest. Taking pride in your appearance is a positive thing, but that will just get your foot in the door whether it’s a job or a relationship. What really matters is how you treat people. And if you don’t treat yourself with respect then chances are you won’t treat others with respect either.”
    “Is that what you think?” she asked. “That I lack self respect?” They were in the kitchen now and he turned and took the cups from her.
    “What does it matter what I think?” he asked. “You already know the answer.”
    He reached into a storage space under the sink and took out a pot.
    “Here,” he said, handing it to her. Lydia looked inside. There was a lump of something white. It smelled oily. She wrinkled her nose.
    “Ewww. What is this?”
    “Fat. Like suet. Since tomorrow is Christmas I figured we’d fix some treats for the birds.”
    He picked up a basket of huge pinecones and a bucket of seed. Taking the pot of fat, he extracted a chunk with a knife and began pushing into the spaces in the pine cone. Then he rolled it in the seed.
    “I hang these on the trees. The birds and squirrels love them.”
    He handed Lydia a knife and she gave him a skeptical look before taking it and carefully spreading fat into a pinecone.
    “So this is what you do instead of exchanging gifts with your family?”
    Mason grew quiet. “Yep,” he said. “I had a less than memorable childhood.”
    “Bad parents?”
    “No parents,” he said. “I grew up in a boy’s home. I had years to think about what kind of family I would have when I was finally old enough to make my own.”
    Lydia stole a look at his face. A flicker of sadness crossed it and she felt herself strangely touched and was puzzled by it. Wasn’t this the same guy who’d infuriated her and then spanked her like an errant child?
    “What kind of family would that be?” she asked quietly. “Or is that too personal a question?”
    “Nah, it’s not,” he said. “I think it would be an old-fashioned family, a cross between the kinds I used to watch on television and the ones I’ve read about in books on homesteading. A strong father, a feisty but submissive wife, kids…”
    She laughed out loud. “Submissive? No wonder you’re single.” Lydia shook her head as she put one pinecone down and reached for another, noting that he’d already done three. She was clearly going to have to step up production.

“Hmm,” he said. “Why do you say that?”
    Lydia sighed. “Well, for one thing, submissive women can’t be feisty. And second of all, they don’t exist today.”
    “Sure they do,” he said. “I’ve met some of them and we got on quite well. One was a chemist with two advanced degrees.”
    Lydia chuckled. “A submissive woman with advanced degrees…yeah..”
    “Believe it or not, I’m telling the truth. Beautiful woman, inside and out. But she said she’d never adapt out here in the sticks.”
    “Wait,” Lydia said. “If she was a submissive woman what would she care about her own comfort.”
    “Because,” he said. ‘For women like her, being submissive is a choice. It’s part of what they want, just like where they decide to live is part of what they want. It may come as a shock to you, but there are women who want a man who will make them feel like a woman - cherished, protected, guided. So many women today find themselves treated like