by Chris Cooper
“What are you staring at?” Asher asked from halfway up the hill.
Oliver turned around. “Nothing.” When he turned back to look at the tree line, Gideon had disappeared.
The snow came down harder as they made a few more rounds on their makeshift sleds. Eventually, Oliver’s gloves soaked through, and he had a hard time gripping the edge of the metal lid with his numb fingers.
“Let’s go back inside,” he said after Asher had taken another haphazard trip to the bottom of the hill.
As they climbed, boots sinking into the snow, Asher turned to Oliver. “I’ve seen them, too, you know.”
Oliver tried to play dumb. “What? Seen who?”
“The men at the edge of the woods. One’s a gigantic fellow with a large sword, and the other carries a bow.”
“Why haven’t you told me?” he asked.
“That’s what you were staring at, wasn’t it? I could ask you the same question.” Asher paused. “What if they cross over?”
“I’ve never seen the guy with the bow. You probably don’t remember, but Gideon was there the night we found you in the cell.”
Asher thought for a moment. “I remember. He was with you and the woman who…” Asher looked down at his shoes.
“His sister, Mercy,” Oliver added. “But if it’s really him, it means he’s alive and well and maybe even has control of the town. After the coup, anyone could have taken over Briarwood, so we’d be lucky if that were the case—I think.”
“I just hope they stay put for now.”
Oliver did, too, and although he tried to rid his mind of the idea, he was certain Briarwood would come knocking one day. In some ways, he was surprised it hadn’t already and just hoped the town had a long memory of the invisible barrier separating them from the outside world. Gideon could surely see Izzy’s house from the edge of the woods and must have at least considered exploring the mysterious structure at the top of the hill.
As Oliver reached the back door, Anna smirked at him through the window.
“I thought you were going home. What’s so funny?” Oliver asked as he stomped off his boots on the deck.
“Got caught up watching you two sled, but I was just about the head out. Nice tumble, Asher.”
Asher blushed. “It was my first time.” He sat down at the kitchen table to take his boots off.
“Well, Izzy and I enjoyed the show. And don’t worry about it—the last time I went sledding, I broke my arm, so you’ve done much better by comparison.”
“Why didn’t you tell me it was so dangerous?” he asked Oliver.
“It’s not dangerous. Some people are just uncoordinated.” He stuck his tongue out at Anna.
“Ready to go?” Izzy asked, car keys in hand.
“I’ll take her,” Oliver said, reaching for the keys. “It’ll be fun to see how well the wagon handles the icy corners.”
Izzy pulled the keys away from him.
“Just kidding. I’ll get her home in one piece.” Oliver took the keys and headed out to the car with Anna.
“How about a nightcap?” Izzy asked Asher before Oliver shut the front door.
“Not a bad Thanksgiving,” Anna said as they climbed into the car.
Oliver started the engine and flipped the heater to full blast. “I can’t say I was particularly excited to spend it with the entire town, but I enjoyed it. Watching Asher sled was the icing on the cake.”
Anna laughed. “I guess today was technically his first Thanksgiving.”
“You’re right. I doubt they had a grand Briarwood Thanksgiving celebration, and if they did, he was probably locked in the cell. Still feels surreal, no matter how many times I say it.” Oliver paused. “I haven’t told Izzy, but I’ve seen Gideon twice now at the edge of the woods. We saw him tonight when we were sledding.”
Anna perked up in her seat. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you talk to him?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you for no reason and wasn’t sure it was him until today. We didn’t speak, but he was walking the tree line like he was looking for something.”
“But that’s good, right? If he’s survived, then the town must be doing well.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking. At some point, we will have to go back, or Briarwood will come marching up the hill. They have to figure it out eventually, right? That the briars are dead? We might as well be the first to act.”
“I don’t know,” Anna replied. “Maybe when Asher is up on his feet and finds his own place. But I can’t imagine it going over well with Gideon or the townspeople if they figure out Asher is living right across the way.”
“But Gideon isn’t like that. He saw Asher—saw what his father had done to him. If Gideon and his friends truly are in power, Asher should be safe.”
He steered the station wagon down the path to Anna’s cottage and parked in front of her door.
“Why poke the bear is all I’m asking,” Anna replied. “Maybe they want to be left alone.”
Oliver shrugged.
Anna laughed to herself.
“What’s so funny?”
She hesitated. “Promise not to laugh.”
“Promise,” he replied.
“I’ve been taking self-defense classes in Amberley. I just figured, after what happened with the Siren, we should prepare ourselves. Between Briarwood and whoever was pulling Simon’s strings, it’s only a matter of time, and we don’t want to be caught off guard.”
Oliver looked down at his lap. “You’re right. Maybe I’ve been too lax. Just trying to keep a sense of normalcy is all.”
“Normalcy? Since when have things ever been normal around here? Especially since you arrived.” She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.
“Stay warm,” he said as she climbed out of the car.
“Be careful on your way back. Seems like the storm is getting worse.”
Oliver waited until Anna made it safely inside then turned the car around and drove back toward the square. The townsfolk must have been hibernating, wrapped up safe and sound in warm blankets, tucked away in their quaint houses in a town that had once promised unparalleled safety, security, and comfort.
Without streetlamps lighting the winding road to Izzy’s, Oliver struggled to see through the flurry of snowflakes bombarding his windshield and cutting short the path of the headlights.
He parked under the porte cochere and braced himself for the cold as he made the short dash to the door. Once inside, he found Asher snoozing in the reading chair and Nekko taking up most of his lap.
“I’d say he’s down for the count,” Izzy said, still sitting at the kitchen table.
“Don’t think I’m far behind him,” Oliver added. “How do you drink coffee so late in the evening?” He eyed an empty bottle of Irish cream on the counter. “Oh, never mind.”
“Hey, today is a judgment-free day.”
Oliver laughed. “Well, I’m turning in. See you in the morning.”
Izzy held up her coffee cup in a silent cheers.
Oliver climbed the stairs to his bedroom on the third floor. Nekko followed closely behind, her butterscotch flub swaying back and forth. Since Bev was off sailing the Caribbean, Asher had taken the other bedroom.
Although having his room back was nice—especially given the several occasions he’d hopped out of bed and directly onto Asher’s stomach—he missed having the human company.
Oliver changed into his pajamas and moved his sketch pad aside as he climbed under the covers. He’d made a habit of drawing a bit before bed but gave himself a pass for the evening. He’d started sketching the events of the last year and had filled the pad’s pages with drawings of the Witch, Simon, the Siren, and the no-longer-hidden town on the other side of the briar patch. Given the Siren’s grim warning, he needed to release the stress of the situation. He was unsure of what evil forces would come knocking on Christchurch’s door, but sketching seemed to release the pressure that would often build up behind his eyes
and prevent him from resting peacefully.
Chapter Two
Oliver awoke to the sound of tires whirring in the driveway and pushed Nekko off his chest as he climbed out of bed. He peered out the window and saw the rear of the station wagon fishtailing under the porte cochere as Izzy tried to back out into the driveway. After the car nearly ran into the support column, Izzy gave up and pulled it back underneath. The snow must have been at least a foot deep and had completely covered the road into town.
Oliver threw on a sweater and jeans, ran his fingers through his hair, then walked into the hallway.
Asher poked his head out from his bedroom door. “What’s that noise?” he asked.
“Spinning tires. Izzy’s just trying to pull the car out of the port. You coming to the bakery today if we can get the car out?”
Asher no longer needed to hide from the people of Christchurch since the entire town knew of his existence. While he mostly cleaned dishes and helped with odds and ends around the bakery, he seemed to enjoy his new freedom and took any opportunity to escape the confines of the house after exhausting its supply of books. Christchurch didn’t have a library of its own, but Oliver could barter baked goods for novels with some of the better-read townsfolk.
“I’ll be ready in five minutes,” he said.
Izzy stood next to the kitchen sink, face flushed and unzipping her puffy coat. She looked like a skinny hot dog wrapped in a fluffy bun. Her hair exploded into a frizzy mess when she pulled off her wool cap.
“Having fun out there?” Oliver asked.
“A blast.” She crossed to the coffeepot and poured a fresh cup, holding it tightly to warm her hands.
“Is it supposed to snow all day?” he asked.
“Don’t know,” she replied. “The cable’s out, so I couldn’t check the weather.”
“The internet too?”
“Everything.”
Oliver looked out the back window. A snowdrift had formed on the edge of the porch. “Well, guess there’s really no need for a forecast. By the looks of it, the snow won’t be letting up soon. It’s awfully early in the year for this much snow, isn’t it?”
Izzy sipped from her mug. “We had a storm like this around Thanksgiving once, but that was a decade ago. The shops in the square were closed for a week.”
“I saw you try to pull the car out of the port. You will let me drive, right?”
“Everybody ready to go?” Asher asked as he entered the kitchen. He laughed when he saw Izzy’s hair.
She scowled as she tossed Oliver the keys.
The three piled into the car as Pan watched sadly from the front window. He’d made a habit of perching on the bench under the bay window in the mornings although Nekko would occasionally usurp his spot, using her girth to knock him onto the floor.
Oliver gunned it over the mound of snow at the edge of the port, sliding backward down the drive and onto the main road, nearly overshooting into the field on the other side. “See, just had to give her a little gas,” he said as he shifted into drive.
“I’d rather make it to the bakery alive,” Asher chimed in from the back seat.
Oliver went light on the pedal as the tires struggled to grip the snow at first, and he squinted to find the outline of the road. With the windshield wipers on high and the heater on full blast, he drove toward town, but navigating the flat layer of undisturbed snow in front of him was difficult.
“Think we’ll get any customers today?” Oliver asked.
“No idea, but we’ve gotta try it. Remember the last time I closed the shop after Anna had already prepped for the day? She was furious.” Izzy pressed a finger against the passenger window and drew patterns on the fogged glass.
Oliver exhaled as he pulled the car off the slippery snow-covered road and onto the paved street bordering the square.
“Tom must have plowed this morning,” Izzy said.
Without enough roads to warrant an actual salt truck, the entire town depended on a man named Tom to hook a plow to the front of his pickup and clear the main roadways.
“Looks like they’re going to open the market today,” Oliver said.
The market owners were shuffling around inside although the bay doors were closed.
On the other side of the square, Martin was standing outside the antique shop, trying to set up his standing display in the snow.
“A bit surprised to see Martin out this morning,” Oliver said.
“Don’t you remember what day it is? The busiest shopping day of the year? The day the fat cats who own all the big shopping chains sit back and count their wads of cash.” Izzy had worked herself up into a huff.
“Surely you’re not talking about Martin. He’s hardly the face of corporate greed,” Oliver replied.
“Would you watch the road?” she said as the station wagon’s tire rubbed against the square curb. “We won’t do Anna much good dead.”
Oliver corrected course. “I don’t do Anna much good alive, at least when it comes to baking.”
He pulled the car around the back of The Rolling Pin, and they braced themselves against the harsh wind as they struggled to reach the back door.
“Took you long enough.” Anna grinned as she carried a set of dirty mixing bowls over to the kitchen sink.
“You should have seen Oliver round the bends into town. Have you ever seen Pan fly around the corners of the house and slide on the hardwood? Kinda reminded me of that.” Izzy squeezed Oliver on the shoulder.
“I didn’t see anyone else offering to drive,” he shot back. “If it wasn’t for me, we’d have had to walk here.”
Oliver turned to Asher. “Want to help me open the front of the shop?”
“First, come here and try these.” Anna leaned over a baking sheet on the large metal table. “Thought I would do something different and add candied orange rinds. Also mixed a bit of coffee into the icing.”
Oliver looked over her shoulder at a tray of hot, gooey cinnamon rolls.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, grabbing a piece of a roll she’d cut into quarters.
“I think this is a winner,” he said as the orange and coffee flavors hit his taste buds over the sweet icing. He’d never had the pleasure of trying homemade cinnamon rolls until he started working at the bakery—the ones from childhood always came from a can—and the perk was one he would never tire of.
The first few hours of the morning were slow as the storm raged outside. Oliver busied himself with refilling the napkin holders and cleaning the neglected nooks and crannies around the shop. By early afternoon, the snow had let up temporarily, and the sun even shone through the breaks in the clouds. Several customers trickled in as the day progressed.
Madeline and another Elder entered and sat at a booth in the corner of the shop.
Oliver rounded the counter with a fresh pot of coffee.
“Surprised you aren’t out shopping today,” Oliver said as he flipped over their coffee cups.
“We tried,” Madeline replied. “Looks like the weather’s causing issues with the train. We tried to make the drive to Amberley, but when we reached the edge of town, the roads were so icy we had to turn around, and the wind nearly blew us into a ditch. Lord knows when the county will clear it. Poor Tom’s got his hands full as is. I’m sure those bums in Amberley won’t be any help either.”
“Be nice,” said the woman across from her.
Madeline forced the corners of her lips into a smile. “You’re right. We’re just missing all the sales. I never miss Black Friday.”
“I saw Martin opening up shop today,” Oliver said, trying to change the subject. “Didn’t know today was a busy shopping day for him.”
“He’s convinced he can pull in the Christchurch crowd since the trains are down. He says they need a place to shop. I told him to have at it. At least he’s out of my hair for the day.”
“Big plans, then?” Oliver asked.
“The rest of the girls and I are getting together later for c
ards and a few glasses of wine. What better way is there to keep warm on a snowy day?”
Oliver laughed. “Anything else I can get you two?”
“Two glazed donut holes, please,” Madeline replied.
“Just two? You know they’re tiny, right?”
“I want—” began the woman across from Madeline.
“The diet, remember?” Madeline shot a glance at her. “The first bite of a donut is always the best. The rest are wasted calories.”
“Whatever suits your fancy,” Oliver replied.
The woman grumbled as he turned toward the kitchen.
Once Madeline and her friend had savored their minuscule treats, taking an unusually long time to consume them, they braved the tundra to Madeline’s car, parked outside.
By late afternoon, the bakery was dead once again, and Oliver and Izzy had scrubbed every obscure surface, refilled every saltshaker, and even fixed the squeaky hinge on the front door, which had driven Oliver crazy since his first day in the bakery.
“I suppose we could close up shop early,” Izzy said. She’d busied herself with dusting the bakery’s artwork.
While the town had chosen traditional decorations for the month of Thanksgiving—autumn leaves, cornucopia, and miniature gourds—Izzy went for a different vibe. She had painted over Halloween’s creepy mansion mural with a pop surrealist Thanksgiving dinner. The scene somewhat resembled the Last Supper although the people had been replaced with turkeys gathered around a serving platter holding a scared-looking human with an apple shoved in his mouth. His legs were trussed like a turkey, and his feet were capped with paper turkey booties.
Oliver tried to convince her to go with something less disturbing, and the painting did seem to garner critical reactions at first, but eventually, the clientele learned to ignore it, as they did many of Izzy’s other eccentricities. Soon, Oliver would paint a new Christmas mural, and he’d settled on something more wholesome. Izzy had already come up with an alternative name for Christmas, but it was too lengthy to remember.
