The Christmas Elf

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “I figured.”

  “Let’s do this.” I took the elf and got out of the car. Mel followed suit.

  We rang the doorbell and waited.

  “Did you hear it?” I asked.

  “Hear what?”

  “The bell? Did it ring?”

  “I don’t think so,” Mel said.

  “Hold on,” Ma said. “I’ll just take a quick peek inside and see if anyone’s home.” A second later she was back. “Ring it again. She’s in the kitchen. Probably didn’t hear it.”

  I hit the bell again and listened. That time I heard it.

  A short woman with a blond cropped bob-full of hair answered. “Yes?”

  “Sharon Masterson?” I asked.

  She gave Mel and me the once over. “Who’s asking?”

  “My name is Angela and this is Mel.”

  Mel added her two cents. “We’re not selling anything. We’re returning something that belongs to you.”

  I held up the doll and Sharon took a step back. “Where…I…I—“

  Mel cut her off. “Sold it to me at a garage sale in your old neighborhood.”

  She nodded. “Yes, last year.”

  “I’d like to give it back,” Mel said.

  I held out the doll for her to take, and she did, but she was confused. “I…I don’t understand.”

  Just then a little boy, no older than three, appeared next to his mother. With a blue and white plaid blanket wrapped around one arm, he clung to her leg, the thumb of his other hand stuck in his mouth. Sharon glanced down and shifted her weight to her other leg. I knew she felt something but didn’t know what.

  “Ah Madone,” Ma said. “This one’s gonna be a tear jerker.”

  She wasn’t lying.

  “Mommy,” the little boy said and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t in the same exact voice as the darn elf doll.

  I let out a breath and prepared myself for the inevitable. “Here we go.”

  Mel shifted her eyes my direction. We didn’t exchange any words, but I nodded and she knew. She nodded back.

  “Mrs. Masterson, you lost a little boy, correct?”

  Her eyes widened. “How did you know that?” Her posture tensed and her face tightened.

  I needed to work quickly or I’d lose her. “Did he always have his blue and white plaid blanket wrapped around his arm?”

  She stared at me, speechless, but her head dipped up and down ever so slightly.

  Ma crouched down and asked the boy his name.

  He pulled his thumb from his mouth. “Ayden Thompson Masterson,” he said and right back in his mouth his thumb went.

  “Ayden Thompson Masterson,” I repeated. “He wanted very much to be with you.”

  “What? I…I don’t understand.” Her shoulders relaxed a touch, but not enough to drop her defensive mode. “What’s going on?”

  My mother was the queen of handling children, especially the ones who’d passed. “Ayden, tell me about the little doll. Is it special to you?”

  “Mommy got it for me. It made me happy when I didn’t feel good. It did funny things in my room.”

  While my mother talked to Ayden—feeding me information for Sharon Masterson—I worked to connect her to her little boy, and convince her of what was happening.

  “Mrs. Masterson, I know this is going to sound crazy, and believe me, I know that it really does, but please, hear me out. Your son, he used this doll to connect me to you. I’m a psychic medium. Do you know what that is?”

  Tears welled in the woman’s eyes and I knew I hadn’t lost her. People who’d lost loved ones wanted desperately to believe in the afterlife, in people like me, but parents were always the most desperate to believe. No parent should ever out live her children. “Yes…yes, I know.”

  “May we come in?” I asked. “Your little boy is here.”

  She stepped back and let us in. “Ayden’s here now?”

  I nodded. He stood beside his mother, again attached to her leg. “He liked to hold onto your leg, didn’t he?”

  She glanced at her leg and then back at me.

  I smiled and shrugged. “He’s been doing that since he appeared a few minutes ago.

  “I felt him.” She cupped her hand over her mouth and cried.

  “Mommy’s sad,” Ayden said.

  I bent down to the boy. “She’s not sad, Ayden. She’s happy that you’re here. Those are happy tears.”

  “Mommy cried a lot.”

  I nodded. “’Cause you didn’t feel good?”

  “Yeah. My blood hurt.”

  I looked up at his mother. “Leukemia?”

  She nodded and cried harder. “He said that?”

  I stood. “He said his blood hurt, so I assumed.”

  “That’s what he used to say when we explained what was happening to him,” she said. “Oh my God, he’s really here, isn’t he?”

  “That’s what she said,” Ma said.

  I was relieved the woman couldn’t hear her.

  “He thinks you’re sad,” I said. “It’s my experience that they really don’t want us to feel sad.”

  She wanted to know the connection between the doll and Mel, so I explained how we found our way to her door, and then got back down on Ayden’s level. “Did you want me to say something special to your mommy for you, Ayden?”

  “Yeah.”

  I caught his mother’s eye and smiled and then returned my attention to her son. “You tell me and I’ll tell her, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Ayden released his grip on his mom’s leg and dropped the plaid blanket from his arm. When he did, two incandescent white wings opened behind him, filling a four-foot span. They glistened, beams of light bouncing off of him. I’d never seen anything like it. The entire room lit up, a rainbow of colors rebounding from everything it touched.

  “Wow,” Mel said. “What’s happening?” Her head moved in circles, scanning the room. “Are you seeing this?”

  “Now this is something I’ve never seen before,” Ma said. “That boy’s somethin’ special.”

  Mrs. Masteron’s mouth hung open. “The colors. What’s happening?”

  I was clueless. “Ayden?”

  “Are my wings pretty? Mommy said my wings would be pretty. She said I would be an angel and I am.”

  I choked back the lump in my throat. “He wants to know if you think his angel wings are pretty. He said you told him he would be an angel and he wants you to know he is.”

  She fell to the ground, sobbing. Mel dropped down next to her and cradled her in her arms, crying right along with her. I did my best to kept it together, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have tears rolling down my face, too.

  “I get to fly through the clouds and play with puppies,” he said. “Just like Mommy promised. And they have cookies and I can have as many as I want.”

  Ma and I both laughed at that.

  Ayden told me his blood didn’t hurt anymore and that he liked the picture on his grave marker. He said he’d been to their house many times, but didn’t understand why a new family was there. When I mentioned that to his mother, she explained what happened.

  “There were just so many memories there, so many of Ayden. It was too hard on Bella and Logan, so we decided to move.”

  Ayden told me he liked the new house. While we were there, he and my mother floated around and checked it out. He liked the photos in his father’s office, especially the one of him and his dad on their boat. He said that was a fun trip, even though he had to have that big tank with the air in it with him. His mother cried harder when I told her that.

  “I like it in the clouds,” he told me. “But I can come give her butterfly kisses goodnight sometimes too.”

  “He likes the clouds but says he’ll come and give you butterfly kisses sometimes.”

  He floated over and gave her one then, and she touched her fingertips to her face.

  “I love you, Ayden,” she said.

  “I love you all the way to H
eaven, Mommy,” he said.

  As I gave his last message to his mother, Ayden put the elf on the bookshelf and then he shimmered away.

  I told his mother he was gone and we all cried.

  ***

  An hour later, Mel and my mom and I were on our way home, emotionally drained and energized at the same time. Connecting loved ones with those who’ve passed had a way of doing that to us, especially the kids. That one was the hardest one yet. He was young, but something about him was special.

  “The wings,” Ma said. “I gotta find out about those things. I wanna get me some a those.”

  “I suspect they’re for special spirits,” I said.

  “She wants the wings, doesn’t she?” Mel asked.

  I nodded.

  “I’m special,” Ma said. “I’m a special celestial spirit. I should have a pair a those things. The stuff I’ve done? I deserve ‘em.”

  “I bet she’d look pretty good with all that sparkly rainbow stuff around her,” Mel said.

  I shrugged. “I dunno. She isn’t really the rainbow, sparkly type, if you ask me.”

  “I am so,” Ma said. “I’m all about the glow. Look at me.”

  I flipped around and smirked. She was right, she was glowing. “Well look at that, you’re glowing. Nifty trick.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. I’ve been workin’ on it. It’ll be extra good when I get me a set of them wings.” With that, she shimmered away.

  I shook my head, laughing. “So, that was pretty intense, wasn’t it?”

  Mel released a long sigh. “So intense but so rewarding.”

  “I can’t imagine losing a child.”

  She held up a hand. “Do not even go there. It’s almost Christmas. Think about how that would be.” She pressed her hand into her chest. “It pains me just thinking about it.”

  “I know. My kids make me crazy but I can’t imagine life without them.”

  “Ditto. I don’t want anything bad happening to my kids. Sure, there are days I want to punt kick them out the window, but not the second story one or anything.”

  “And not the big window.”

  “No, not the big one. The small one, like the one for the den.”

  “Exactly, because it’d hurt less.”

  “Exactly.”

  We both giggled.

  As I parked in Mel’s driveway, I smiled at my best friend and said, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t stuff the elf in the mailbox?”

  She pushed open the car door. “So glad.”

  The End

  Keep reading for a sneak peek into the contemporary romance novella The Inn at Laurel Creek by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson.

  THE INN AT LAUREL CREEK

  "I don't believe in miracles," I told Stan Brinker, the owner of The Inn at Laurel Creek Bed and Breakfast. I'd just checked in, and as we walked to my room the old man told me stories of miracles and romances that happened when people stayed at the one hundred and twenty-two-year-old home.

  "You don't got to believe me," he said. "Just you wait and see. All sorts of miracles happen here." He pointed to a set of opened French doors at the end of the hall. "Seems a lot of them happen right out there, too." He dragged my suitcase to the last door on the right, right next to the French doors, labeled the Serenity Suite, and opened the door with his key.

  That's just what I needed, too. Serenity. "Thank you, Mr. Brinker," I said, grabbing hold of my suitcase and pulling it into the room. "Like I said, I don't believe in miracles but if I do happen to see one, I'll make sure to let you know."

  "It's Stan to family, and anyone that stays with us here at the Inn is family, you hear?" He tipped his beat-up, brown cowboy hat toward me and smiled. "You have a mighty fine stay, Ms. Howard. My wife, Lou, serves dinner in the dining room at six o'clock sharp. Tonight's fried catfish, her specialty. You ought not to miss it. If you need anything before that, just holler at one-a us. We're here to please."

  "Thank you," I said, closing the door behind him.

  I flung myself onto the four-poster bed. "Ah, serenity," I said out loud. "Exactly what the doctor ordered." I scooted to the top of the bed and lay my head on the pillows. They were soft and fluffy, and all I wanted was to bury my head into them and sleep for five days straight. Unfortunately, sleep wasn't what I came to the Inn for. I'd come to have a little me time, to gather my thoughts and figure out how to mend my shattered heart. I was determined to pick up the broken pieces of it that Matthew Bollander left three months ago when he walked out of my life and straight into the arms of another woman. While Matthew and his fiancée—yes, it happened that fast—spent the weekend with friends and family during their elaborate southern wedding, I intended to move on with my life. I didn't know how, but I had five days to figure it out, and I'd be damned if I wouldn't succeed.

  I dragged myself off the cozy bed and meandered around the room, inspecting every corner and knickknack, my hand sweeping over the furniture like a kid in a candy shop. The soft pink chair, pushed into the corner by the window, reminded me of my grandmother's. I plopped onto the cushion and wiggled into the seat. "This one's just right," I said. "Perfect spot to list the reasons I'm better off without Matthew."

  I dragged myself from the snug, cushy pink patterned chair and wandered over to the fireplace, a bricked in, old school one, with three logs all set for a relaxing fire. I imagined sitting next to the fire that night, working through my emotions with a bottle of Alto Adige Pinot Bianco. I opened my suitcase, took out the bottle and placed in on the dresser, and then unpacked the rest of the suitcase, placing my toiletries in the bathroom.

  "Oh wow," I moaned. "That tub is amazing." An old-fashioned copper claw-footed tub sat in the corner of the room, surrounded by candles in all different shapes and sizes. A white velvet robe lay over the tub. I picked it up and held it to my face. The silky smooth material melted into my skin. "Perfection."

  I finished unpacking, changed into a fresh pair of cut-off jean shorts and a tank top, grabbed my journal, my iPod, a pen and my ear buds and headed downstairs. Lou was dusting furniture in the main sitting room. "Hi," I said. "I'm Carly Howard. I'm staying in the Serenity Suite."

  Lou smiled, wrapped her arms around me squeezed. "Oh, blessed to meet you, my dear." She stretched out her arms, holding me at arms’ length. "Why, aren't you just the prettiest girl ever?"

  My face warmed with both pleasure and embarrassment. "Thank you."

  From the looks of her skin, she'd spent too much time in the sun, age and laugh lines imbedded into her face. Her long, white hair, pulled back into a bun, was smooth as satin, and she had a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Lou was probably fifty to fifty-five but looked older. She absolutely radiated sincere sweetness and I instantly adored her.

  "My husband said you got here safe and sound. He didn't go on about those miracles now, did he?"

  I nodded. "Maybe a little."

  "That Stan." She waved her hand. "He's always tellin' our guests about 'em. I keep tellin' him he's gonna scare away our visitors, but he keeps on talkin'. Yackity, yackity, yack, all day long. Lawd, my ears. He's lucky he's cuter than a pig's tail or I'd-a kicked him to the curb by now." She winked. "But even though this old house is full of miracles, talkin' about it doesn't make it happen for ever'one. Sometimes it don't happen at all. It's gotta be the right person, and the right time."

  I giggled. "It's okay. I don't believe in miracles anyway."

  "Oh, well you just might after a night or two here." She went back to her dusting. "And it just might be you one happens to."

  "I can deal with that," I said. "Oh, do you happen to have a bottled water? I'd like to take a walk by the creek and maybe sit there for a bit. It's a little warm out, and a water would be nice."

  She put down the duster and motioned for me to follow her. "I've got just the thing for ya," she said. We walked into the back hall near the kitchen, and she pulled open a drawer under the stairs. "This here's our hiking kit," she said, handing me a small drawstring bag
. "It's got a little throw to sit on if you need to rest for a spell, some bug repellant, because them bugs over at Laurel Creek are ever'where this time of year." She crooked her finger and headed into the kitchen. I followed. "I'll get you a few bottled waters and some snacks. Skinny thing like you." Her eyes traveled down my body and back to my eyes. "You could stand to get some meat on them bones."

  I wasn't as skinny as she thought, but I wasn't going to turn down snacks. She handed me two bottles of water and a bag with homemade chocolate chip cookies. My mouth watered from the smell of the freshly baked little bites of heaven. "Those look yummy," I said.

  "Just baked them a bit ago. It's my momma's secret recipe. Been in the family for years, but if you're as nice as you seem, I might could give you a few hints."

  I took a cookie from the bag and bit into it. "Oh my gosh. This is incredible."

  Lou winked. "It's all about the secret ingredient," she said. "Now, you take that bag, and you go and have yourself some good ol' quality time up by the creek, ya hear?"

  I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

  Lou walked me to the door. "Thanks for the snacks, and the throw," I told her. "I didn't think to bring a throw with me."

  She patted my back. "Don't you worry about a thing, honey. That's what we're here for. We aim to make you feel right at home." She patted my back one more time, and as I walked down the front porch steps said, "Now, walk on out that-a-way, and go left on down yonder by the fence gate, and the creek is just a stone's throw up the path. Now don't you be late for supper, you hear? It's at six o'clock on the spot."

  "Yes, ma'am." I said.

  ***

  The path had a slight incline that continued to build, and I was surprised to realize it wasn't as easy to navigate as I'd expected. I needed to get in better shape once I got back to the city. The path curved and dipped around sugar maple trees with wild, florid azalea bushes covered with pink and purple flowers growing beneath them. Springtime in northern Georgia was stunning, ablaze with vividly colored flowers in yellows, purples, pinks and reds. If anything, the timing of Matthew's wedding gave me a chance to relish in the beauty of nature. And sneeze. A lot. I knew my allergies would be assaulted, so pulled out my allergy spray from the bag and gave myself a few shots up my nose—never enjoyable, but always effective.