At Marilee’s urging, she’d invited family and friends to spend Christmas Eve at the ranch house, like they used to do back in the old days. Aunt Kerri’s family would be there, along with other cousins and their kids. Marilee and Stephanie would stop by with their families. The house would be full; plus getting things ready would leave her with no time to wonder what happened to Ben.
That had been the plan in any case. Instead, she couldn’t get her mind off him; the way his dimple formed when he smiled just right and the way his eyes sparkled when he was in a playful mood. And she wouldn’t even think about the things he could make her feel in the bedroom. She’d never wanted a man in her life the way she wanted Ben. His lovely daughter was a bonus to a near perfect package. He’d left, just as she’d known he would. He’d been in her life such a short time, but she missed him terribly. Had she known even in the tenth grade that Ben was meant to be her one true love? Had she been waiting for him all this time, only to have him disappear like smoke in the breeze?
She crossed the house, automatically touching the quilt on the back of the love seat as she went. They’d made love under the mistletoe on that quilt. She ran a hand on the embroidery of the well. What had she wished for again? Not the silly tall and handsome hero wish. The other one…the one for love and laughter. She had no desire to laugh now. Maybe never again.
She paced, feeling hollow, and stopping only to look out at the empty pasture beside the barn. How many times had she told her Aunt Kerri she would fill it with horses of her own, just as it had been in her grandparents’ day? Instead, that useless old pasture was as empty as her life without Ben. An unwanted tear slipped down her cheek.
Enough already. She was a strong, independent woman and she’d be fine just the way she was. She lit a fire in the fireplace, imagining her wishes burning into ash, floating up the chimney, and dispersing with the wind. If Robyn was one thing, she was a realist. There’d be no Santa for her this year. Why had she volunteered to host the family get-together? It was a stupid idea and she blamed Marilee. What she wanted for Christmas was to skip the holiday altogether and go right to January 6th, when Hopeful Quilts would open for the new year. Robyn glanced at the wishing well quilt. She had to put the damn thing away before she cried again.
On the day of the party, Aunt Kerri arrived late morning to help set up for the Christmas Evening shindig. They’d eat early, around five or so was the plan. Aunt Kerri would handle greeting the guests while Robyn finished cooking the feast. As each family arrived, early as was the Meadows’ tradition, they all did their best to lift Robyn’s spirits without knowing exactly why she was so down. Aunt Kerri knew, of course, since Robyn had cried on her shoulder. And Marilee knew. When she arrived, she stayed practically chained to Robyn’s hip and was extra chatty, even for her. Robyn worried that if her best friend was trying to get her out of a funk, it might backfire.
Despite her wish that Ben and Aidyn were there, everyone else seemed to be having a good time and Robyn was grateful for that. When a large rattling noise came from outside, followed by a honk of a horn, Marilee’s broad smile was too obvious to ignore.
“Okay, fess up. What have you done?” Robyn asked.
“Who me?” Marilee took on the look of an innocent angel. “I haven’t done a thing.” A loud jingle of bells came from outside the house and Marilee grabbed her arm. “Were you expecting someone? Santa Claus maybe?”
Robyn narrowed her eyes. Her friend was up to no good and she was pulling one of her usual stunts. What was she up to now? Marilee tugged at Robyn’s arm and she had to follow. Knowing Marilee, she’d probably rented a stripper despite the number of kids in attendance. Robyn went to the front porch to see a horse trailer parked in her drive. She’d placed an advertisement in the Country Shopper that she was boarding horses, but she wasn’t expecting anyone to show up on her doorstep on Christmas Eve without an appointment.
A little girl wearing a dark coat with fur on the hood stepped out of the truck hooked to the trailer. Robyn’s heart sped. Aidyn! That was Aidyn. She watched as Aidyn ran to the back of the trailer. Ben appeared on the other side. His eyes met hers across the gravel drive and he gave a nod. Then he went to work lowering the door on the horse trailer and backing a pony out--a pony just the right size for Aidyn. Robyn grinned from ear to ear but her feet remained firmly in place until Marilee gave her a nudge to get her moving.
Aidyn was too busy hugging on the pony to pay much attention to the adults. Ben met Robyn half-way across the gravel drive and swept her off her feet. This time he didn’t dump her in a snowbank. He set her back down and gave her a hearty kiss as her guests cheered them on.
She pulled away. “Where have you been?” she asked, waving a hand to cool her flushed face.
“It’s a long story. Can we save it for tomorrow?”
“Robyn, Robyn…” Aidyn said, running up to her. “I asked for a puppy, but Daddy bought me a horse.” Her eyes were big with the excitement of it all. “He wants to rent an apartment for my horse in your barn.”
Robyn touched Aidyn’s shoulder, afraid she might be dreaming. “I’d love to board your horse, Aidyn.”
Ben turned to Robyn with his cop face on. “I’d also like to rent your Airbnb if you have room.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s just not possible.”
His head dropped. “I understand. I’ll find another place to stay.” He turned and began to walk away.
Robyn grabbed hold of his arm and he turned back to her. “I don’t think you do. The Airbnb is closed for business. The only place to stay is in my room.”
His grin grew as her words sunk in. “I’d like that. But I have bad news for you.”
“Which is?”
“It may get crowded.” He pointed to Aidyn, who was struggling to carry a cardboard box across the yard.
“Merry Christmas, Robyn,” the child said as she sat the box at Robyn’s feet. A puppy lay in the box, an Australian Shepard, just like her grandpa used to have.
“Daddy,” Aidyn said, tugging impatiently on her daddy’s hand.
Ben crouched down to listen to Aidyn.
“What’s wrong with Robyn,” she asked. Her little face was worried as she looked at the woman behind him.
Ben took a quick glance…tears fell from Robyn’s eyes and her nose was growing red.
“Nothing’s wrong, honey.” He tapped Aidyn on the nose. “Remember the toy we got for Robyn’s dog, the little stuffed elf. Why don’t you run over to the truck and get it for me. He tapped Aidyn on the nose. “Can you do that?”
Aidyn took off at a gallop, and Ben moved to stand behind Robyn. He wrapped her in his arms and leaned to whisper in her ear. “I love you, Robyn Meadows. I wished you were mine back in the tenth grade and that wish has never changed.”
Before Robyn could do much more than grin and wipe her eyes, a wet nose pushed up against her cheek and neighed in her ear. She looked down to see Aidyn grinning as she held the lead on her new pony in one hand, and the stuffed elf in the other.
“And just who is this little fellow,” Robyn asked, rubbing the horse behind the ears.
“Lucky,” Aidyn said. “Because we’re lucky to live in a town with our own wishing well.”
“Awww.” Ben released Robyn as she bent down to talk to his daughter. “Would you like to live here, Aidyn?” she asked.
“Can I keep Lucky here?”
“For as long as you like.”
“Then, yes, I would. As long as Daddy can stay too.”
“Oh, I think that can be arranged.”
Ben’s eyes sparkled down on the two of them. He handed Lucky’s reins to his brother, who’d been watching the scene along with all of Robyn’s guests. After letting the pup out of the box, he took both their hands. The little fellow followed them as they walked into Robyn’s ranch house filled with the love and laughter of family and friends.
The End
The Christmas
Experiment
&
nbsp; Katherine Moore
Christmas Week
It was the Monday before Christmas and the temperature in Hopeful, Colorado was hovering just above zero. The last thing Kara McKendrick wanted to do was to get out of her nice warm bed and put her bare feet down on the cold floor.
She knew the moment she emerged from her cozy pile of blankets; she was going to be freezing. Kara kept the temperature in her studio apartment very low to save money but even when the heat kicked in, it had to work hard to counteract all the little drafts that came in through the badly hung window frames and the front door that had a good inch of clearance from the floor.
She usually kept pillows stuffed in the cracks, but that sometimes wasn’t enough insulation. Even the interior walls got cold sometimes, and frost formed on the inside of her windows most nights. The patterns were beautiful, but on this particular morning, Kara was in no mood to appreciate them.
For one thing, she had barely slept. Her next semester’s tuition was due, and she didn’t have it. She had been trying to renegotiate her student loan, but because she worked as many hours as she did at the bakery, she’d been told she wouldn’t qualify for more money until she cut back her hours. But if she cut back, she couldn’t afford to keep her apartment. There were places that advertised rooms for rent, but even they would be a stretch if she had to depend solely on her loan money.
She was so close to getting her degree, but after tossing and turning all night, she’d decided the only sensible thing to do was drop out for at least a semester to try and save some money. That choice scared her because she knew how easy it would be to see a semester slip into a year and then into two or three.
I’m so close, she thought, and then pushed the thought away. She’d have the whole of Christmas vacation to decide and now she needed to get to work. The Good Wish Bakery was open extended Christmas hours this week and her boss, Jennie Woo, would be waiting for her.
Get up, Kara told herself sternly and ran into the bathroom before the shock of the cold fully hit her. Even before she flipped on the overhead light, she flicked the switch to activate the wall heater. It hummed on immediately, its coils glowing cherry red. The heat didn’t radiate more than an inch from the wall, so Kara stood as close to it as she could without burning herself.
Some mornings showering and washing her hair was an ordeal. Even with the little wall heater in the bathroom. She knew this was going to be one of those mornings.
She always laid out her clothes the night before so she could function on autopilot in the morning, and her black corduroy jeans, thermal undershirt and black and white striped sweater were already laid out on the tiny counter, along with a fresh pair of socks and a clean pair of panties.
She washed her face and then contemplated her reflection in the mirror, trying to decide if she needed to wash her hair or if it could go another day. After giving her hair a good sniff, she finally decided it would pass muster, and then pulled it back into a neat French braid before giving herself a sponge bath. She was shivering by the time she finished, even with the wall heater doing its best to warm the little room.
She slipped on her thermal undershirt, layered it below a black and white striped sweater and pulled up the corduroy pants. They were as soft and comfy as jammie pants. She put on her socks and then padded back into her “bedroom” to put on another pair of socks. That done, she made herself a cup of instant cocoa and a piece of peanut butter toast while she reviewed the sample questions given for the history test she would take later in the morning. All her other teachers had left for winter break but her eccentric world economics professor Eric Sorenson wasn’t going anywhere, and he’d scheduled a test on the very last day of classes.
Kara knew that half the class would just skip it, taking the hit in grades rather than lose a day on the slopes or the beach or wherever they were spending their holiday.
Kara was ready for the test and she didn’t have anywhere to go, but even so, part of her wished she could just ditch the class as well. It just didn’t seem “Christmassy” to be taking a test on micro-loans and their impact on local economies.
Rinsing out her cup and wiping off her plate, Kara left both in the dish strainer to dry while she brushed her teeth and started layering on the extra clothes she’d need for her walk to the bakery where she worked in the mornings. Winter in Colorado was beautiful, but it could be brutal. Once when she was a little girl, she’d found a bird frozen to death in the street. She’d cried and cried, and it had been so cold her tears had frozen on her cheeks.
Now she donned her layers as if arming herself for a battle with the elements.
First there was the slim, sleeveless puffer vest. Then there was the fringed scarf that was so long she could wrap it around her neck twice. She drew on a pair of knitted gloves and a knitted beanie in the same color before pulling on the quilted coat she’d bought the winter before. It had been a splurge, but so worth it. Once she’d adjusted the strings under the hood so it wouldn’t blow back from her head, she felt as warm as it was possible to be walking around in sub-freezing temperatures.
Finally, she laced up the hiking boots she’d had since she was in high school. She knew sooner or later she was going to have to get some proper snow boots, but they were a low financial priority at the moment and the hiking boots would have to do.
Taking a last look around her apartment to make sure she hadn’t left any lights on, Kara stepped out the door and into the cold morning.
As she did every morning, she recited a little prayer to herself as she began the long walk to the bakery where she had worked since she was twelve. “Practice an attitude of gratitude,” had been her mother’s mantra and now that she was gone, the prayer continued to connect Kara to her. Though life sometimes seemed to be an insurmountable struggle for her, she knew that so many others were much worse off. Most of the time, she felt blessed and lucky.
For one thing, she was very grateful to work at the Good Wishes Bakery. The owner and baker, the formidable Ms. Woo, had offered her a flexible work schedule that allowed her to attend college while still making enough money to live on. Sure, it meant coming in at the crack of early every weekday morning, and working weekend shifts as well, but there were worse things than spending your day in a warm place filled with good smells and happy customers.
This time of year, the bakery was especially busy. In addition to keeping the display cases filled and packing up boxes of cookies and muffins for all the parties and breakfast meetings, there were the special Christmas cakes and loaves of cranberry bread, banana chocolate chip bread, and lemon poppyseed loaf on offer. There were seasonal treats as anticipated as the arrival of pumpkin spice lattes at Starbucks. “When are the bubble loaves coming in?” customers asked every year, starting the day after Thanksgiving. Ms. Woo only made them for a week at Christmas, and they always sold out.
Kara loved bubble loaf, the buttery orange peel and sugar glaze was addictive, especially when eaten right from the oven, but the treat was good eaten cold as well.
Thinking about the bubble loaves that would be cooling on a rack when she arrived at the bakery, Kara quickened her step, trying to ignore the stinging cold wind against the part of her face her scarf didn’t cover.
Most days, Kara loved being out in the morning when the mist still clung to the bare trees, giving everything a fairy tale air. The air was so still, so clean. With so few cards on the road, the silence was near-absolute with just the crunch of her feet on the snow.
There was a fresh layer on the sidewalk and on the roads. The snowplow hadn’t gone through yet, and her feet left dark prints behind her.
She loved it when she was out before anyone could make tracks in the snow, but she saw little paw prints of critters that had ventured out in search of food. She smiled when she saw them and hoped that the critter had found a warm space to burrow.
Because it was really cold. Even wearing two pairs of socks, her feet were freezing inside her hiking boots. Although t
hey were well-worn in and comfortable, they were so clunky, so she always felt like she was wearing two Volkswagens on her feet. Around her apartment, all she wore was flip-flops, no matter what the weather, and at the bakery, she changed into light canvas flats so that her feet wouldn’t get all sweaty.
She was thinking about changing her shoes and not really paying attention to where she was stepping when suddenly her right foot slipped.
She knew she was going to fall even as she tipped over. She threw out her arms to break her fall. She hit hard, and immediately felt the hot stickiness of blood gluing her pants to her knee. She just hoped the jeans were dark enough so the blood wouldn’t show.
As he was every morning, Bernie Park was in the bakery, pretending to choose between the blueberry muffin and a slice of date-nut bread with cream cheese before finally pointing out what he really wanted, a sweet roll the size of his head.
“Can I warm that up for you?” Kara offered, even though it had probably only been out of the oven for ten minutes.
“Thanks Kara, I’d appreciate it.”
Kara zapped it in the microwave and poured him a cup of coffee. As a long-time customer, he could have poured it for himself, but he’d told her that always felt like he was taking a liberty.
From the way Bernie settled in, she could tell he didn’t have any plans for the day. He often spent whole days in the bakery, reading books on his phone and sipping vast quantities of coffee.
As the holidays approached, she could see the melancholy settle over him like a shroud.
He’d been widowed three years and since his wife’s death, he’d become a ghost of his former self. Kara knew he was retired from some big financial job and that he’d returned to Hopeful when his wife got sick. She’d been a chic, silver-haired woman whose beauty was baked into her bones. She’d been lovely into her seventies. Her death from ovarian cancer had been a shock and she’d been mourned by everyone she came in contact with.
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