by J. K Harper
She took one last look at the princess cake and decided they’d done a great job. A silver crown stood atop a riot of ruffles and delicate frosting piped to look like lace. Donna couldn’t believe it when Brody had started making the lace. Apparently Madison had taken extra time to show him how to do it because he’d mastered the intricate work.
As his family filed into the kitchen, they began to sing Happy Birthday. Lizzie’s cheeks plumped as she grinned. She raced from one person to the next giving them all hugs.
“This is the best birthday ever,” she said.
“Make a wish,” Brody’s mom said.
Lizzie closed her eyes and scrunched her face up for a moment before blowing out the candle. Everyone cheered.
While Brody’s mom grabbed a large cake knife and began cutting slices, Lizzie eyed the cake.
“I love it so much,” she whispered.
Tears sprang into Donna’s eyes. She leaned down and hugged Lizzie, and for the first time in her life, she knew she’d be able to take care of someone other than herself.
“Here’s your piece, Lizzie,” her mom said.
“Thank you.”
Lizzie carried it over to the table and dug in without waiting for anyone else. Donna carried her plate to the table so she could sit beside her. The first forkful was moist and delicious, better than any cake she’d ever had.
“This is really good,” she said.
“Thank you,” Brody said. “I learned a few things while we were at Curvy Bear Ranch.”
“I’ll say.” His mom took the seat next to his dad. “I’ll have to get you over here to cook for us more often.”
“I’d love to,” Brody said.
Donna ate every last crumb of cake before licking the last bit of frosting off of the fork. She looked up to find Brody staring at her. She looked down at her shirt to make sure she hadn’t dropped any cake. Nope. She lifted a brow. Was she missing something?
Brody slid out of his chair and got down on one knee. His mom gasped, while Donna’s jaw dropped open. His dad set down his fork and smiled.
“This probably sounds crazy,” Brody said. “But I can’t imagine spending another day without you by my side. I’ve been waiting my whole life to find someone who can handle life’s ups and downs and still smile. Someone who’s ready to take on the responsibility of having a ready-made family. I realize that we haven’t known each other very long, but I know you, Donna. And I love you. So honey, I just want to know one thing: Will you do me the great honor of marrying me?”
Tears sprang into her eyes. She trembled as he took her hand in his. Had he just proposed to her—to her! She laughed and tried to pull her thoughts together. “Yes. I can’t believe this happening, but yes.”
Everyone in the room smiled as he pulled a small black box out of his pocket. When he opened it, two gold rings sparkled under the kitchen light.
“Oh my gosh, those are gorgeous. Brody, how did you—”
His dad cleared his throat. “I’ve been saving my grandmother’s wedding set for a special person, someone that I was sure could make my son happy. My wife and I can’t wait to have you become part of our family.”
She bit her lip so she wouldn’t turn into a huge, sobbing mess.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “That means more to me than you could ever know.”
His mom pulled a bottle of wine out of a cabinet and poured some into everyone’s glass, including a few sips worth in Lizzie’s.
“To our family,” Brody’s dad said.
“To our family,” everyone replied.
Lizzie glowed with happiness as she took a sip of wine. His mom hugged her and then immediately started talking about wedding arrangements. Donna laughed.
“We’ll have plenty of time to talk about all the details later, Mom,” Brody interceded.
“There’s one detail we can finalize right now,” Donna said.
“See, we can start planning it,” his mom said.
“Lizzie?” Donna waited until she had her full attention. “Would you would like to be my bridesmaid?”
“Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Yes, I want to,” Lizzie yelled. She hopped up from the table and threw her arms back around Donna. “That is the best thing anyone has ever said to me.”
As Donna hugged her soon-to-be sister, she glanced at Brody. Tears shimmered in his eyes. In that moment, she vowed to bring happiness to her new family every day for the rest of her life. She couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas miracle.
The Christmas Spirit
by Gen Géricault
Chapter 1
Milkweed and Snow
The sweet voice sang out to Beckett Holloway, urging him to descend the ladder of his bunk bed. The five-year-old bear shifter had already made up his mind: he would talk to her tonight.
His mother hadn’t believed him when he’d told her that he’d spied a pretty lady with black hair outside his window. Bonnie Holloway had shared one of those grown-up looks with Grandma Vi. They’d tittered over Beckett’s active imagination while Bonnie continued to nurse Hannah.
Pausing to peer out his window, Beckett beamed. The lady stood near the tall oaks. Even more snow had fallen in the hours since his mother had tucked him in for the night.
He’d need to be quiet. Though Beckett still struggled with his heightened senses, he’d already learned the individual sounds of his sleuth. His parents slept, though their respective inhale-exhale patterns were not as deep as they had been before Hannah’s arrival. His brand new baby sister, however, slept like a wild bear in hibernation. According to his father, Harrison, anyway.
Holding tight to the bannister, Beckett crept down the stairs without causing so much as a squeak from the wooden tread boards.
Rising onto his bare toes, Beckett reached for the lock on the front door. Sticking out his tongue, he squirmed and lifted himself higher. With a light flick, he unlocked the door and headed outside.
The powdery snow crunched beneath his feet. He did not feel the cold, but his mother always insisted he wear boots. Thinking she’d be mad if she discovered him out of his bed and outside with bare feet, Beckett plopped down on the porch steps and pulled on his green rain boots.
Tottering across the back yard, Beckett felt giddy. The snowbear he’d made with his father loomed tall under the moonlight.
The woman was still there. Her hair blew on the breeze. If Beckett had been older and wiser, he might have wondered how this was possible, considering the lack of wind.
He drew closer, sniffing the air to catch her scent.
“Everyone has a scent,” Harrison had recently told his son. “You can’t always tell if they’re good people or bad people just from a scent, but it’s important to take stock of all those individual smells.”
The pretty lady smelled like nothing.
She turned, her movements fluid and graceful. Her white dress danced on the air, billowing around her willowy frame. Her bare arms appeared as pale as the surrounding snow.
Beckett brightened at a sudden thought.
Maybe she was a shifter, too.
Racing forward, he didn’t pause to reconsider leaving the safety of his yard. Beckett was a big boy now that he had a baby sister to help protect. Even uncle Hud had said so.
With the snow squelching beneath the rubber soles of his boots, Beckett followed the pretty lady into the forest.
* * *
Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.
Hudson Holloway grunted and pulled his pillow over his face.
Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.
Growling, he seized his phone from the bedside table and accepted the incoming call without checking the screen. Squinting in his half-awake state, he noted the numbers on his digital clock. Three forty-three A.M.
“What?”
“Is Beckett with you? Did he come by? Please tell me he’s there, Hud.” The panic underlying Bonnie’s attempt at a cool, calm delivery drew Hudson upright.
Inhaling deeply, he double-checked to ens
ure his nephew’s scent wasn’t within the vicinity of his home, which sat about a mile south of Harrison’s. “Why would fuzzbutt be here?”
“He went outside. I don’t know when, but he’s gone. His tracks led into the woods. Harrison’s out looking for him now.”
“I’m leaving now. He’s probably just goofing around in the snow.”
Bonnie didn’t reply. The line went dead.
Hudson hauled himself out of his bed. He’d only just gotten to sleep; a last minute Christmas order had kept him in his workshop well past midnight. Matters of sleuth surpassed everything else, though. As the newly appointed alpha of the Holloways, he had a duty to uphold to his family.
He dressed in record time and ventured out into the dark. Snowflakes fluttered, falling in heavy sheets. The air smelled clean and crisp from all the white. They’d experienced an unusually dense snowfall this year. He caught wind of Harrison’s familiar scent of birch bark and river rocks.
Setting out at a brisk trot, Hudson continued to assess the smellscape. He parsed the frozen surface of Junebug Creek, the wiry branches of the oaks overhead, the soggy layer of dead leaves beneath the snow. The ghost of Beckett’s light, milkweed aroma was present, but it was faint.
A strange sensation prickled the nape of Hudson’s neck. He couldn’t be sure why, but he suddenly felt the need to run.
That was ridiculous, of course. Beckett was most likely just romping through the Winter Wonderland that now blanketed the hilly terrain of their territory. Still, Hudson ran, following the winding turns of the creek.
A mile from the Hiwassee River, he joined up with Harrison. Fear soured his not-so-little brother’s scent.
Beckett had come this way. Milkweed lingered on the air.
Rounding a thick-trunked oak, Harrison almost fell head over feet as he attempted to slow his pace. Beneath the tree sat a pair of rubber boots and a set of blue pajamas featuring an airplane design.
Unease bloomed in the pit of Hudson’s stomach, but the paw prints in the snow sent his heart to his throat. “He shifted.”
“It’s too soon for him to shift!” Harrison yelled, resuming his earlier speed. “He’s too little!”
Hudson followed, assessing the marks in the snow. Beckett had been running.
These weren’t the tracks of a creature at play. These were the tracks of a creature who’d been chased.
Skidding to a halt beside the slow-moving river, Hudson braced himself as Harrison bellowed his son’s name.
The tracks disappeared at the embankment. If Beckett had been running at full speed, he’d have easily gone over the edge.
“Beck!” Hudson added his voice to the night.
He resumed running, traveling alongside the flow of the river. Scanning the water, his keen eyesight pierced through the shadows.
Beckett’s scent trail was all but gone. Only the fishy tang of the river and the acrid scent of Harrison’s dismay greeted Hudson’s nostrils.
This wasn’t right. This wasn’t happening.
“I’m going back,” Hudson said quickly.
“I have to find him!” Harrison thundered with renewed urgency.
“Keep going! Follow the river.” Hudson had already started running back up the hill. “I’m getting my truck. We’ll cover more ground. I’ll meet you up ahead!”
Chapter 2
Junebug
Whistling, Hazel Fortescue climbed out of her Subaru and scanned the aisles of rusted-out junkers.
She should have been back home at her parents’ house in Wears Valley, stifling a series of epic eye-rolls as her aunts poked and prodded over their perceived inadequacies concerning her mother’s Christmas Eve dinner. Hell, she should have been helping her mother cook Christmas Eve dinner. But when she’d spied a very specific Craigslist ad, Hazel had relinquished her plans for the night.
She’d pay for this later, of course. Her mother wouldn’t let her forget she’d skipped Aunt Eleanore’s annual Christmas Eve tipple-fueled outburst.
The junkyard on the outskirts of Cleveland looked like the sort of place that came equipped with its very own chainsaw-wielding maniac. Horror movie tropes aside, Hazel wrinkled her nose at the smell of burning rubber. In the distance, a pile of tires had been set aflame. The noxious odor tainted the otherwise crisp winter air.
A light dusting of snow continued to fall. Hazel tromped through the soft powder, heading straight for the house at the center of the junkyard. A pair of noisy Rottweilers were already barking their fury over her presence.
Approaching the chain-link fence, Hazel paused to eye the slobbering dogs. She lifted a finger to her lips, shushed them, and they fell silent.
After traipsing to the front door, which only barely hung on its hinges, she knocked.
Inside, a television blared an episode of Jeopardy.
Hazel knocked again, louder this time.
A man of about fifty threw open the door. His wild gray hair stuck up in every direction beneath his dirty baseball cap. His rotund belly was only mostly contained inside an oil-stained pair of Liberty overalls.
The stale scent of old tobacco wafted through the doorway. A glance over his shoulder revealed a large oxygen tank near a faded La-Z-Boy recliner. He’d been a smoker once, and he was paying for it now. His exhalations clouded the air as he panted. The trip to the door had taken some degree of effort.
“You the one who called?” he asked, his voice all gravel and sandpaper.
“That’s me,” she said, plastering on a fake smile. “Gosh, I’m just so excited.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come in. I’ll remind you I have a no-returns policy.”
She followed him through the house, navigating the slanted floors and stacks of old newspapers, unopened mail, and boxes of car parts.
If Hazel had been human, she might have gone running when he stopped at a rickety set of wooden stairs that led to a dark basement.
“Watch your step,” he said, flicking a light switch. “I ain’t got nothing worth a damn for you to sue over.”
Following him downstairs, she kept her distance as he hobbled across the dirty concrete floor. Stray carcasses of camel crickets peppered the thick layer of dust and grime.
A flash of green illuminated the far corner. Twin orbs blinked in the darkness. Claws scrabbled against metal.
A small animal cowered in the corner of a dog kennel. The cub had hidden most of his face beneath his paws. He peered out at them, his eyes wide and fearful.
Hazel watched the small bear with great interest. Flares of gold mingled with virescent light. His aura danced frantically, revealing the true depth of his terror. It also confirmed what she’d suspected when she’d first spotted the photograph attached to the ad: the cub was a shifter.
“Where did you say you found him?”
The man sniffed. “Fished him outta the Ocoee. He was just paddling along. Kept going under. He’d been at it a while, I reckon.”
“And you didn’t see a mother?”
“It ain’t like Tennessee is known for its grizzly population,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I wager somebody bought him as a pet then realized they were in for a wild time. Again, I have a no-returns policy.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“I’m thinking I might have to up the price, since you’re so keen and he’s so rare.”
“Excuse me?”
“If he were a black bear, I might take less. But the way I see it, this one’s a real prize. You see the way his eyes glow? I ain’t never seen that on an animal before.”
The man snorted, wrangling with a throatful of phlegm. He spat to his left, thankfully keeping his aim away from Hazel’s boots.
“The ad said a grand,” Hazel replied, unconcerned with the issue of the money. “Are you not a man of your word?”
“I’m a man on his last tank of oxygen, sweetheart. You want the cub or not?”
“Oh, I fully intend to leave here with him.” She turned, summoning her power. “Now, you listen to me
, sweetheart.”
Caught in her compulsion, the man stared blankly, his human eyes now awash with the blue of her magic.
“The next time you find a stranded animal, you will take him to the proper authorities.”
Slowly, he nodded.
“I came here expecting to have to smack some sense into an arrogant hunter, but I see now you are simply an opportunist. From the shade of your aura, I can tell you aren’t a bad man. Because I’m in the Christmas spirit, I’m going to give you a thousand dollars, but not for the bear. Consider it a gift. Use it to take care of yourself and those dogs out front. But if I ever have cause to knock on your door again, I will make you sorry.”
A new line formed in the crevices of his already wrinkled forehead. His brows drew together, but he did not speak.
She hadn’t told him to, after all.
Reaching into her pocket, Hazel pulled out the cash. She stuck the bills into the front pocket of his overalls.
She’d been on the fence about paying the money. She didn’t need to pay. She could simply walk out with the cub right now, and the man certainly wouldn’t be able to stop her.
But it was Christmas. And it wasn’t like the man had gone out of his way to actually steal the cub. Maybe he’d even saved the little bear’s life.
“Face forward. Stare at that wall until I tell you to move. You will hear me speaking, but you will not understand any of my words until I address you directly.”
With a graceless shuffle of his feet, the man obeyed.
Hazel headed across the room. She kept her pace slow and non-confrontational. When she was five feet from the cage, she dropped to her knees and held up both hands so that the cub could see she was unarmed.
“Hi.” She smiled without flashing her teeth, knowing that could be taken as a sign of aggression. “I’m Hazel. I’m here to take you home.”
The cub whimpered out a noise that fractured Hazel’s heart into a dozen pieces.
“Don’t be sad. We’ll get you back to your mama. I’m going to let you out, okay?”
