The Christmas Pudding Lie

by P. B. Phillips

  And as for Indigo, I refuse... I refuse! ”

  Dodd whispers in her ear, “I understand. Don’t fret ever again. It is no more. And I will do whatever it takes, do you hear me. You are free to go. Please follow your bliss. I will take care of the rest.

  And I will hope till time runs out that you will someday call me ‘friend’ again. If it comes to naught, my heart will be heavy forever for the lost of your friendship, for my sins of omission and commission.

  I’ll never give up in my quest to earn your respect once more. That is my wish for the New Year.”

  She rises now and whispers, “So we are done?”

  He nods, winks and says, “This work is done.”

  Dodd looks about and says, “And I must thank my good, good mates Harry, Mycroft and Sherlock. I am forever in your debt. Your efforts made my mission possible.”

  Dodd claps his two hands together loudly, causing Anna to stagger. Sherlock takes one step into her to save her grace. Dodd returns to his more familiar bon vivant manner,

  “So, I say we get on with the business at hand, the Christmas! Are we all agreed, five for Christmas pudding at Midwood?”

  Anna can’t believe this 180 degrees shift. She scrutinizes their faces. They are all in the moment. As she observes the four planning the holiday schedule, she can’t help a caustic bit of sarcasm, “‘The Christmas Pudding Lie’ now that sounds like the perfect name for that spy thriller you were pitching.”

  Dodd’s eyes pop. He likes the idea. He gives her a thumbs up. Anna can’t help but smile at the man’s quick recovery. But she can’t be swayed by him ever again. Before he can turn on his winning charm she announces, “I’m out of here. I’m on the next plane, train, ocean liner, dogsled if need be. Whatever it takes I’m out.”

  Sherlock steps up, “Please allow me. It’s is the least I can do. If we leave in the next few minutes I dare say, you could be back in Frisco before the dawn of the new day as you have the change in time zones in your favor. First class to Frisco! Will that do, Watson?”

  For but a second Anna embraces the man’s attention. She almost lets a smile lay upon her lips. She rather likes the sound of it. But she is not about to let slip from her mind the treachery that preceded their meeting. She remains serious.

  To Dodd, she pleads “We are we on the same page!”

  Dodd embraces Anna, “Always and forever, cara mia. I will settle with Indigo.”

  Mycroft enters the hollow with five glasses of a honey colored elixir. He sets the tray down and offers each a glass of Apple Jack, “To the New Year, to old friends and new.”

  Dodd raises his glass and offers, “To hands across the waters!”

  Harriet raises her glass and toasts, “May our Last Chapter be our best!”

  Sherlock’s eyes seek out first Harry, then Mycroft, onto Dodd and finally to Anna, he toasts, “May the wind be always at your back!”

  Anna watches as Sherlock, Dodd, Mycroft and Harriet raise their glasses to her. She musters the strength to remain civil and raises her glass and toasts, “To the rooks who are you guys?”

  Dodd quickly answers, “Stay and find out.”

  The smooth, tangy applejack brings back her beguiling smile. She wants to believe, ever so much, that this unnerving mystery adventure is now complete. “Really, Dodd, let’s not go there.”

  Harriet heeds Anna’s signal and goes off to fetch clothes for the journey home. She returns with warm travel gear. She envelops Anna with the warm and now dry parka.

  Anna slips a gentle kiss upon Harriet’s cheek and says, “I’ll be sure to return them just as soon as I get back home.”

  Harriet returns two sweet kisses to Anna’s cheeks.

  “Bring them back when you return.”

  Anna can’t believe her ears. ‘These guys are not going to disappear in a puff of blue smoke, my dear.” She feels a small lump in her chest forming. Luckily, Dodd distracts her from her menacing thoughts, he insists,

  “Please allow us to take you to the station.”

  Anna looks imploringly at Dodd and pleads, “Let us leave it here. We are still talking. I don’t know how long your luck will hold before my fury unleashes a thousand curses.”

  With that Sherlock grabs his hat and coat before the others can make a move and says, “Anna, I brought you here. Permit me to see you on your way one last time?”

  Anna arches her left brow. Silently she says, ‘Yeah right, one last time, my eye.’

  Before she can say yea or nay, he has his arm neatly tucked under hers. They walk out into the bitter cold night. Oddly, Anna welcomes the sting of the stiff wind for it cools the fire in her belly. She takes a last look at the ice palace. Dodd stands alone on the frozen steps. He waves vigorously and shouts, “I’ll give you a ring after the holidays. A Happy Christmas..!”

  Anna feeling dizzy at this altitude turns away and waves, “Doddie, you are a dog.”

  At the station, Sherlock takes out a blue suede folder. He hands it to Anna. Inside is a first class ticket from Geneva to Frisco Bay. Anna is once again taken aback with the man’s anticipation of her every more. She carefully stows the ticket into the deep pocket of her knapsack. Suddenly she feels awkward standing so close to the mysterious Mr. Sherlock Holmes. It’s been a very long time since her soul wept. It questions her. ‘Are you ready to say goodbye?’ So it seems that the fantasies of a young heart die hard.

  Sherlock understanding the awkwardness of the moment places the tip of his fine bone finger on her warm lips and says, “You can’t question destiny my dear. And yours is always colored by curiosity. I know that the day will come, and soon I might add, when you will think back on all this and kick yourself for not staying on.”

  Anna lets down her shield of resistance, “Yeah, right, and you are Marlowe. You are truly the devil.”

  Sherlock rests a little more easily with this quip. He bows his head. He twists the ends of his moustache. He peers over the rims of his gold glasses and says in a sly voice, “So you know me.”

  He steps a little bit closer and offers this, “And until we meet again may God hold you in the palm of his hand.”

  Anna’s eyes get teary. She steps into Sherlock’s space. She holds his south sea blue eyes; their noses breathe in the others breath. She brushes his soft white stubble and whispers into his ear, “From your lips to God’s ears.”

  Then with no further adieu she walks off. Sherlock wills that she look back one last time. She does. She raises her hand to wave goodbye. In his eyes she sees the spark of green that last light of day as the yellow sun dips into the deep blue sea.

  Postscript

  Back on the Ponderosa, Anna kicks off her trusty Teva sandals, tears off her socks and runs out into the yard that has miraculously turned into a soft bed of new green grasses. She strolls on to check the progress of the garden. She surveys the hills and valley. She approves of their new winter coats in a medley of greens. Breathing in deeply the crisp clean mountain air, Anna is reassured that life goes on and may just have a trick or two to offer yet. She holds close to her heart the new hope that she is free at last. And while her worst fears came to be reality, they can never again hurt her. In the end her conspiratorial mind set was her friend not her imagined torturer. And most important of all, she’s not chasing her tale. She can live out her remaining days without the need to look over her shoulder. She is out of it for good. She feels the weight of the past lifted. And she is still laughing so that must mean something good, she reckons.

  The Feast of the Epiphany finds a fluffy white blanket of fog covers the valley floor. For a moment, Anna is transported back to the winter white mountains of Switzerland. She wonders what Harriet is up to. She thinks to call her. But she decides that the more appropriate response is a letter of thanks. She chuckles thinking about Dodd and Mycroft off on their next adventure. And Sherlock Holmes, she imagines is escorting the Tuesday Bridge Ladies around the Marais.

  Anna scans the assortment of mail from the P O. S
he is most curious about a foreign stamp. She doesn’t recognize it. She opens it. To her surprise out falls an old sepia photo. It is a picture of three young boys playing pyramid. She flips the card over and reads the inscription; ‘The twins, 'Harry’ Jr. and Sherlock, play pyramid with younger brother, Mycroft.’ Anna reexamines the postmark for a clue as to the sender. It is blackened over so many times it is impossible to decipher.

  Anna gulps. She reads the inscription again something is just not right.

  “Harry Jr.? But there was never a mentioned of a twin. Oh dear lord, you don’t suppose Harry Jr. is …. Bloody hell…!”

  She looks down at her feet. And if it hasn’t happened again, her left slipper is on her right foot and so on. Anna can only conclude that it’s time to move again.