Fate, Snow & Mistletoe: A Sex and Lies Holiday Novella

by Kris Calvert

  I love you. I miss you. You’ll always be in my heart. Always.

  It was our pact to never say goodbye and so I won’t. Instead I’ll end my last letter to you by saying, see you around. Because I know in the end, I will see you again.

  Mimi

  p.s. I think of you every time it snows.

  December 25, 1944

  Dear Mimi,

  I didn’t know how to even begin to write this letter to you. I am alive and well and shipping home to the United States in two days. I’ve been held captive for over a year in a Japanese war camp.

  My parents were supposed to get word to you, but if they haven’t I will most surely beat this letter across the Pacific.

  My mother told me of your engagement. She also told me your betrothed met his fate on the battlefield at Normandy only six months ago. I am so sorry, Mimi. I truly am.

  I’m also sorry that the one thing you feared the most was being left behind and now it’s happened to you twice.

  I think of you every day and I look forward to seeing your bright and smiling face soon. I dream of holding you in my arms—which are quite a bit skinnier these days, but some home cooking will fix me up.

  Mimi, please let me be there for you. Please let me love you. I’ll see you soon.

  Yours forevermore,

  Cecil

  p.s. I’ve been told the forecast is for snow at Winter Lodge today. I can’t see the snow without thinking of you and our weekend together.

  June 1, 1945

  Dear Cecil:

  Thank you for the many cards, letters and flowers, but I’m not capable of visiting with you right now. My heart is broken into so many pieces and I fear seeing you will only confuse me more. I have to be strong alone. I have to heal on my own if I ever intend to stand on my own as the independent woman you know I must be. I’m spending most of my time away from Alabama as it’s too difficult not only to deal with my mother, but the many memories I have there with Thomas.

  I’m so thankful you are well these days. My father tells me you are making Winter Bourbon something very special, branching out into new states. I think it’s wonderful you’ve been able to step in and take over so effortlessly from your father. Business is booming everywhere now that the war in Europe is over. Thank God the war in Europe is over, and soon, I hope the war in the Pacific will end as well.

  Cecil, I know with all my heart this letter isn’t what you wanted from me but please know you will always have a piece of my heart.

  Wishing the best for you always,

  Mimi

  August 19, 1945

  My dearest Mimi,

  You were right. Your letter cut to the heart of me, and yet I care for you so much I want nothing but happiness for you. If that’s a life without me at the moment, I will respect that with, as you say, all my heart, including the piece you have given me.

  I’ve thought about why I can’t quit you even if we can’t be together, and I’ve come to a conclusion. On one of the many nights I lay watching the stars through a leaky thatched roof I decided the reason I will always have you and you will always have me is because we shared ourselves wholly and fully. You were the first person in my life I’ve ever given myself over to honestly and completely. I find it hard to believe I will ever be so open with my heart and frankly, my soul. I think it was our innocence, our ability to only see the good in the world. Now that’s all changed and we’ve changed with it. I will always treasure the perfect moments we shared inside our perfect world one snowy Christmas on the mountain.

  You will always have a piece of my heart, Mimi. And I too want nothing but the best for you and your future.

  Love,

  Cecil

  p.s. I dream it’s snowing at Winter Lodge almost every night.

  December 23, 1945

  Dear Cecil,

  Bing Crosby sang White Christmas on the radio last night and I cried, thinking of our dance in the grand hall of Winter Lodge. You were right when you said what we had was so special it would transcend time. It was special. You are special. Our time together is a perfect memory of innocence and possibility, one that I keep with me always.

  Merry Christmas Cecil. I hope 1946 holds everything you’ve ever wanted in the world.

  All my love,

  Mimi

  p.s. I dreamed it snowed at Winter Lodge last night.

  December 24, 1947

  Dear Mimi,

  I was saddened you were unable to attend my wedding to Priscilla but I understand how difficult it is these days to travel.

  My father has told me of your recent engagement. Let me be the first to congratulate you. He is a very lucky man. I have to say I’m glad he’s a local boy and you’ll be settling down in Shadeland, Alabama. The south is where you belong, Mimi. There’s no finer flower than a southern woman such as yourself.

  I think of you always this time of year and I hope you are well. Take care. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

  See you around,

  Cecil

  December 31, 1947

  Dear Cecil:

  I’m so sorry I missed the big wedding in Kentucky. I heard it was quite the party and you know how I love a good party.

  Your mother told my mother of your good wishes on my upcoming nuptials. I guess we finally both grew up enough to get married. He’s wonderful. I know you’d love him as I do. I was honestly just thankful I’m getting a new last name I can live with. Soon I’ll be Marilyn Peterson, but I know I’ll always be Mimi Richardson to you.

  Give my love to your beautiful bride and I hope to see you in Alabama in June when I tie the knot.

  All my best,

  Mimi

  December 22, 1953

  Dear Mimi,

  As you may have heard, we are going to Washington, D.C. after the first of the year to celebrate Ike’s inauguration. A little bird has told me you will be there as well.

  I have to admit, it will be wonderful to see you again, dear. Old friends like us should be better about staying in touch.

  I understand you have a son. Priscilla and I have a daughter. She’s bright, beautiful—very much like her mother. She does have a bit of a wild streak in her, Mimi. Something I know you would appreciate.

  We are heading to Asheville tomorrow for the annual Winter Lodge party. It really hasn’t been the same since my father died. Now that Mother isn’t well either, we’ve decided to take her into the mountains for more than likely her last year. The lodge, much like my mother’s spirit, is exactly the same.

  Merry Christmas Mimi. Have a wonderful New Year and I hope to see you in Washington.

  All the best from Priscilla and me,

  Cecil

  December 23, 1991

  Dear Cecil,

  I was so terribly sorry to hear of the passing of your beloved, Priscilla. As you know, I went through the same heartache just last year when John went home as well. There’s no good way to say this except that it sucks. The older I get, the faster time seems to roll along but now that I’m alone it stands still.

  I occupy my time with the house and the grounds as my son and his wife are always on the go with no time for much of anything besides themselves. I do have one spectacular granddaughter whom I love to pieces. She visits me when she’s home from boarding school, which isn’t often enough for me. She also calls me Mimi and I believe that after all these years the name finally suits me.

  I hope you’re able to fill your days with meaningful tasks. It will help to get you through the first year, which I’ve been told is the hardest. They all seem hard to me.

  It’s a difficult thing putting someone you love in the ground and I’ve thought of you nonstop since I heard the news. Hang in there Cecil. It will get better.

  I’m sending hugs and the hope of a white Christmas at Winter Lodge.

  All my best,

  Mimi

  December 15, 2016

  My dearest Mimi,

  It was such an unexpected pleasure to see you in Sh
adeland last month. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about you as the plane touched down in Alabama and I made my way to Lone Oak with my grandson. I may have actually said a prayer that you’d be at the party.

  Funny how life has a way of circling back around on me. I’d not seen you in years, and yet I could’ve picked you out of a crowd of thousands that night.

  Your granddaughter is lovely, and although the party didn’t seem to end as most of the attendees would’ve wanted, it didn’t matter a whit to me because I had the chance to sit and be with you.

  I know this is short notice. I know you probably will decline the invitation, but just in case, I wanted you to know I was throwing a little party in Asheville on December 23rd—just like my parents—just like old times.

  My grandson is getting married and I think more than anything after the past year we’ve had, he wanted to start a new tradition at Christmas—get out of Winter Haven and away from everything that’s happened there.

  Now that the plans have been made, I’m actually as excited as a schoolboy to be at Winter Lodge at Christmas.

  So here I am, cordially inviting you to Asheville for a Christmas party in the mountains. I promise you’ll be home in Alabama on the 25th, as I’m sure your family will want you near on Christmas Day.

  Hope to see you soon, beautiful Mimi.

  Cecil

  December 23, 2016

  Mimi

  The driver moved slowly around the curves of the mountain and an old familiar feeling came over me as he took the last series of hairpin turns.

  “The GPS says we’re going the right way, ma’am, but I’m not too sure.”

  “You’re going the right way. Believe me. I know this stretch of road well. At least they’ve managed to pave the damn thing in the last eighty years.”

  He shot me a smile and a disbelieving look. “Eighty years ma’am?”

  I nodded, hitting the button to roll down the back window for some fresh air. “Yes, and all these years later, there’s still no good way to get to the top of this mountain and this lodge.”

  I looked to my phone. The cell service was spotty, but I’d caught a text from Samantha just before we hit the last twenty miles.

  Have fun. Behave. Call me later, was all it said.

  “Is your granddaughter keeping up with you?” Anna, the nurse Samantha hired to be my companion for the next few days peered over my shoulder to read my text.

  “Of course. She wants me to behave. Behave,” I repeated, murmuring under my breath.

  The car came to a stop and I looked out the window and spied the mailbox. It wasn’t the original but it was damn sure close.

  “Winter Lodge,” the driver read from the side of it. “Established nineteen twenty?”

  “It’s an oldie but a goodie,” I replied. “This is it. Turn here.”

  The long lane was now completely wooded. I strained to look out the front window, but couldn’t see the lodge for the trees. “Keep driving to the very end. You won’t be able to miss it. Looks like a ski lodge. You’ll think you’ve hit Aspen, Colorado but it’s really just old Kentucky bourbon money.”

  As we neared the end of the lane, the enormous log home came into view. “Well done, Cecil,” I said as I admired the way the property had been kept up and to its original condition.

  The driver parked the car in the circular driveway right at the front steps. I stared at the red double doors, thinking back to all the Christmases I’d spent here with family, not to mention the one magical Christmas I could never forget. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a single snowflake float past the car window.

  “Did you see that?” I asked, my eyes now wide as I looked for more flakes.

  “See what, ma’am?” Anna asked.

  “Nothing. I thought I saw a snowflake.”

  “Yes ma’am,” the driver piped up. “I told you when you first got into the car at the airport. There’s a chance of snow tonight. That’s why I asked how long we would be here today.”

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t know young man. I just don’t know.”

  I jiggled the car door handle and he promptly jumped out, hurrying to assist me. I was old and slow, but I could still get around when I really wanted to. Today was one of those days.

  I stood on the doorstep, butterflies in my stomach for the first time in fifty years and stared at the doorbell. I was nervous to ring it.

  I held out my finger to press the button, my hand trembling with old age and excitement. Before I had a chance to touch the bell, the door opened and in front of me stood Cecil Winterbourne.

  I bit my lip, not wanting the obvious pleasure I got from seeing him to shine through my usual old lady, exasperated smirk.

  “Merry Christmas, Mimi.”

  “And a Merry Christmas to you too, Cecil.”

  “Won’t you come in?”

  I peeked into the home before taking his hand to help me cross over the threshold. I looked around and was not surprised to see that the lodge was decorated just as I remembered. Only one thing was different.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes,” I said, straightening the collar of my winter coat. “I was…well. I suppose I thought there would be more, you know, people here. Where’s the party? Where are your grandson and future granddaughter-in-law?”

  Cecil laughed and it was good to see him smile. Peering past his older but still broad shoulders I searched for the people drinking bourbon and champagne. There was not a soul in sight.

  I looked to him with inquisitive eyes and an air of distrust, silently asking for an explanation. Cecil blinked his eyes with the kind of lethargy found in confident older men who’d lived a full life and had many stories to tell. When he focused his gaze upon me a second time, I felt his stare burn a hole in me. With a sigh he answered me, gesturing me to come farther into the house, “It was the forecast.”

  I took a couple of steps before asking. “Forecast of what?”

  “Didn’t you hear? There’s a snowstorm on its way. No one made the trip tonight for fear they’d be stuck in the mountains for Christmas. The kids stayed home in Kentucky.”

  “So what are you doing here?”

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t reach you. I came so you’d not arrive only to be alone. Besides, I wanted a few days of quiet.”

  I nodded, but didn’t question him, my mind already spinning with ideas on how to avoid going back to Shadeland.

  “So….” I paused to remove my gloves and coat. “This is it? Me and you?”

  He nodded and smiled. “Let me take your coat.”

  We both moved slower, but his intensions were still just as gentlemanly as ever. Giving me his arm, we slowly made our way to a leather couch in front of the fire. Cecil helped me to sit and he joined me, never letting go of my hand.

  “May I get you something to drink?”

  I nodded.

  “Vernon,” Cecil called out.

  An older man joined us in the great room. “Vernon, this is Ms. Mimi Richard­son…ah…Peter­son. She is one of my oldest and dearest friends.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Mimi.”

  I gave him a smile. “The pleasure is mine, Vernon.”

  “Vernon’s been with me for a long, long time. I’ve known him forever.”

  “Really?” I asked, popping my eyebrows.

  “Well not as long as I’ve known you, but close. He’s here for the weekend too. I’m too old to go anywhere by myself. Just ask my grandson.”

  “I have that same problem with my granddaughter. This is Anna,” I said gesturing over my shoulder. “No one thinks I’m capable of doing anything alone anymore.”

  “May I get you a cocktail, Miss Mimi?” Vernon asked again. “And I’ll show Miss Anna to her quarters.”

  I thought for a moment and then agreed. “Bourbon, if you don’t mind. But with a little water. I can’t hold my liquor like I used to.”

  “Who are you kidding, Mimi? Cecil chi
ded. “You could never hold your liquor.”

  We had a little laugh together and he took my hand in his once again, giving it a squeeze.

  Vernon brought our drinks over, setting them on the coffee table. I stared at the table and thought back to the late night I stole away from Winter Lodge without saying goodbye to Cecil and I wondered if it was too late to say I was sorry.

  “Cecil,” I began. “I want to apologize for my behavior.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know…back then.”

  “Ah,” he said taking a sip of his bourbon.

  “I never shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. I was young and stupid.”

  Cecil brought my hand to his mouth and gave it a little kiss. “Mimi, I never blamed you for leaving that night. Not ever. In fact, I have something to show you.”

  Digging in the pocket of his dark slacks, Cecil brought his balled fist under my chin and opened it, revealing a small glass vial. Inside was the mustard seed I’d left him. I gasped. “Oh, Cecil! You kept it.”

  “It’s more like it kept me. It kept me alive for over a year in a Japanese prison camp. I didn’t have much. But I had hope and I had this.”

  My old eyes began to tear up. I was overwhelmed in more ways than I knew how to count.

  “I have something to show you too,” I said, removing the silk scarf from my neck to reveal the ruby heart pin on my cashmere sweater. “My heart.”

  “Goodness, Mimi. My goodness,” he said, his face beaming in the light of the fire.

  “What would people think of us if they knew the truth, Cecil?”