Making the Holidays Happy Again

by Pat Henshaw

  “Yeah. Sure. Where else would I go?” I let myself be led.

  “You better be there. Knowing you, you’d probably hide at your place and not tell anyone if we gave you the chance.” He sounded huffy, but teasing.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

  “Just remember, you big oaf, it’s not a party if you’re not there telling us about all the tourists who want to stick their hands in the forge and the lovely ladies who want to feel up your muscles.” He laughed and poked me on the cheek where he says I have a dimple.

  A dimple, right. Like guys who’re built like ramparts have something cute like dimples. Sometimes Jimmy gets a little weird.

  Still, it was nice to know that even if he did hook up with Jax, he wanted me to come to both Thanksgiving dinners. It was one of the three highlights of my year. The other two being Christmas and my birthday. His mom, Hazel, and him never missed them.

  The two of them were my true friends and family. Without them, I really would be alone.

  I sat down next to Jimmy with Jax across the table where he had the best view of Jimmy.

  The server, a kid named Tom who’d told us a couple weeks ago that he’d dropped out of college for a year, was at our table before I’d even got settled. We ordered, with only Jax having to look at the menu. Then Tom stood around a minute as if waiting for something else and then finally left.

  “Jax was asking about my cuff and studs and… well, all the stuff you’ve made me over the years.” Jimmy put his hand over the ratty old braided leather cuff and rubbed like he was caressing it. He did that when he was excited or upset sometimes. It was almost like a habit or something.

  “Oh? Yeah? How come?”

  Jax leaned in toward us. Was he leaning closer to Jimmy? I wouldn’t be surprised.

  “I really like them. The cuff in particular. How hard is it to make?”

  “Not hard at all. I made this first one, when? A long time ago.”

  “When we were in sixth grade,” Jimmy murmured, still rubbing the band.

  His cuff was looking pretty sad, what with all the extender pieces I’d added to it over the years. Maybe I should make him a brand-new one. His old one had started as a single piece of leather cut into three strips in the middle and those braided with a series of “secret” movements almost every kid knew. The first band also had a couple of plain gold-colored snaps to keep it closed.

  Now it looked like a stupid kid had made it a long time ago, all dull and worn. One of seven or nine strands with flashy new hardware would be better.

  “So any kid around what age could probably make one?” Jax’s question brought me back to the discussion.

  “What were we back then? Uh, ten? Eleven?” I looked at Jimmy.

  “Yeah. About that.” His hair curled down, hiding his eyes and his secret smile.

  “So why couldn’t that be the forge’s signature craft? If you don’t want to teach them, I could if you show me how to do it. I like kids.” Jax seemed awfully eager to please.

  I shrugged. Sure. Whatever. Fine by me. I liked kids too. Everybody knew that.

  Before we could talk about it, Tom was back with burgers and fries for me and Jax. Mine was a double with onion, pickles, cheese, and Joe’s great mustard-mayo relish. Jax’s was a junior version of mine. This time Jimmy had a salad. I turned my plate so he could grab some fries like he always did.

  “Um, uh, Mr. Collier?” Tom was nervous, dancing from foot to foot next to the table.

  “Yeah?” I answered around my mouthful of burger.

  “I was wondering if you maybe give a discount to people who work in Old Town for those, like, chain-link bracelet things? The ones for guys?”

  I eyed him. Nice kid. Probably getting minimum wage and shit tips.

  “Uh, yeah, sure. Big links, ten bucks. Medium size, seven fifty. But I don’t got any for sale right now. Maybe next week.” I shrugged and took another bite of my sandwich.

  “Oh, okay.” He slumped and almost turned away.

  “Why, kid?” Again, I talked with my mouth full. My ma and Hazel would’ve rapped my hand with a wood spoon.

  “My big brother wants one, and me too. His birthday is Saturday.”

  This time I swallowed before I talked. See? I had some manners.

  “Which ones do you want?”

  “Big one for my brother cuz he’s built like you. The medium size for me cuz I’m not.”

  “Okay. Come on in Friday afternoon. I’ll have ’em for you.”

  He’d been curled into himself like he was afraid of me or something, but when I told him I’d make him the bracelets, he puffed up again.

  “All right. Thank you. I mean, thank you, sir.” He turned and started to walk away from our table with a grin. Then he turned back. “Uh, one more thing.”

  I looked up after taking a bite of the burger. “Yeah?”

  “Uh, you looking for help in your shop?”

  “Why? You looking to quit here?”

  He nodded.

  “Yeah, okay, kid. Let’s talk when you pick up the chains.”

  I went back to eating, and he walked away. Jimmy took a couple of fries.

  “That was really nice of you.” Jax sounded surprised. I don’t know why since I’d hired him without putting him through the rigamarole of saying I had to think about it and making him wait a day or two.

  “You’ll get to know this as you work for him.” Jimmy chewed on the fries he’d stolen. “That’s just Butch. He’s a really nice guy.”

  I looked at him. He looked at me. We nodded. And smiled.

  When Jimmy looked at me like he was now, I felt great. I was eight feet tall and could do anything in the world. I wanted to hug him.

  Wait. Here? In the pub? I’d always wanted to hug and touch him, but never in the pub before. In front of other people.

  Uh-oh. Something was definitely wrong with me. I needed time off to get a life, bad.

  3

  JAX HAD been working for about three weeks, and everything was going great. Tom had brought his friend Wayne in with him, and I’d hired them both to get the shop and website together. The whole place was humming right along.

  Today I was taking Hazel, Jimmy’s mom, to lunch. She called the week before and sounded not upset exactly, but not like her normal self. I figured she had something on her mind.

  I wasn’t wrong.

  “So who is this Jax character?”

  I liked Hazel. A lot. She was one of those shoots-from-the-hip people, no playing games, no beating around the bush. She wanted to know something, she asked. And she kept asking until she got an answer she believed. She was a lot like my own mom had been.

  I gave her a rundown of Jax’s background. His name was really Ajax. His mom named him after some Greek hero who was strong cuz she was sure he’d be big and strong like his dad. I told Hazel about the certificates and the ranch and all. She looked like I’d given her a bag of horse manure.

  “You checked all this out? It’s not just something he told you and you decided to believe?”

  I couldn’t tell if she was upset with me or not. She was one of those old-time hippies who dressed in jeans and T-shirts even at sixty plus. She grew herbs, so she had dirt ground into the creases on her fingers. Like me, she probably couldn’t ever get them clean unless she bleached them.

  She wore her faded red hair long, either braided down her back or wrapped in some big old topknot with a pencil or chopstick through it. How the whole thing stayed together was a mystery.

  Today she was in a faded Rolling Stones concert tour shirt, worn baggy denims, and Birkenstocks. Her blue eyes looked real tired. I wondered if she was worried about something or was working too hard.

  “Yeah, Hazel, I checked everything out. He even has the farrier’s certificate like he said.”

  She gave a little humph and dug into her tofu, quinoa, and kale salad. I tried not to look at the stuff she was eating because it was foul enough to make me sick. I took a solid bite of
my burger. Like her son, she stole a few of my fries. I turned my plate a little more so she could get to them easier.

  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I think James is making a big mistake hanging around him.”

  I grunted because I didn’t like the number of times they seemed to have lunch or an evening beer. But it really wasn’t my place to run Jimmy’s life.

  He had a right to have friends, didn’t he? And his friends shouldn’t be telling him who else he could be friends with, right?

  Still, it pissed me off too.

  “You’re right.” She sighed. “Not my place or yours, Elwood, to tell him what to do.”

  As usual she did two things that made me squirm. First, she called me by my real first name, which she loved because like my ma, she adored the Blues Brothers. She told me once she wished she’d named Jimmy Elwood when he was born. But Elwood and Elwood, best friends? The idea made me laugh.

  Second, Hazel knew exactly what I was thinking even though I’d only grunted. She could read me without me having to use real words.

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  She stole a few more of my fries as she thought. Finally, she sighed.

  “Nothing. We can’t do anything.” She cleaned up the last of my fries, leaving a lot of tofu, quinoa, and kale in her bowl. “We have to hope for the best.”

  After she pushed around her food and sighed and shoved at her tofu some more, she sat up and looked at me.

  “Can you tell me this? What do you want out of life?”

  “Huh?”

  “Where do you want to be in the next five or ten years?”

  “Here. Where else would I be?”

  “No. I mean, don’t you want a husband? A family? That kind of life?”

  “Sure.” It was my turn to sigh. “Look, Hazel, it’s not easy finding the perfect guy for somebody like me.”

  “Why not?”

  I flapped a hand at her. “I been taking a hard look at myself. I mean, what have I got to offer somebody? A okay business, but that’s about it. I don’t got a real, family house, only a tiny cottage. Not a high school diploma. Or much of anything else except a lot a sweat.”

  She looked shocked.

  “Elwood! What do you have? You’re incredibly handsome. You’re strong. You’re kind to a fault. You’re a talented artist who can translate a rough pencil sketch into beautifully intricate ironwork. You run a business in what’s now one of the most expensive bits of real estate in town. You’re popular and funny and an all-around decent human being. I don’t see the problem.”

  And that was the problem. She didn’t say anything about being smart. I doubted I was all them other things, but I knew I was stupid. When it came down to picking out husband material, stupid was a killer.

  Even though I was blushing cuz she believed all them nice things, I muttered, “Thanks, Hazel.” I told her I had to get back to work. After I paid for lunch, of course.

  Hazel just cemented the facts of life for me. There was no turning back now. I was bent on finding some not-so-smart guy who could maybe love me. I might even find him at one of the upcoming holiday events. He could stop in to see the forge, couldn’t he?

  When I walked her to her beat-up VW bus, Hazel tugged me down and kissed my forehead like she always did.

  “You’re a good boy, Elwood. I know you’re a good friend to James. Stay safe while you’re playing with your fire.”

  I didn’t know if she was talking about the forge, my feelings for Jimmy, or my search for love.

  THE APPLE Harvest Festival weekend dawned bright and cheery, a long way from what I was feeling.

  Me and Jax and Tom had stayed up late a few nights getting stuff ready to sell and deciding on a place where kids could work on braided cuffs out of the way of the forge. I’d had the guys help move stuff around, and finally we had a place for the kids by the windows right off the front door. Now I was worried maybe nobody would show up and there’d be this big empty table and chairs so that people could see through the front window. Maybe having a do-it-yourself table was a really, really bad idea.

  Before we opened on Saturday, Jimmy bounced in and glanced around.

  “Oh, man! This place looks great. I’ll bet the kids will love it. C’mon over and see my shop.”

  Jax threw down the apron he was about to put on and followed Jimmy. I watched them go until Jimmy stopped, turned around, and gestured for me to hurry and catch up. Heaving a sigh, I left my leather apron on, closed the door, locked it, and joined the tiny parade.

  Jimmy’s shop smelled like one big-ass apple pie, not like mine that smelled of wood fire and hot metal. I breathed in and was immediately starving.

  Jimmy turned and grinned at me, his hands disappearing beneath the sales counter. They came up with a couple of plastic to-go boxes, one bigger than the other. He handed one to Jax and the biggest one to me.

  “Here. Mother knew you’d want some pie. We’re selling the spices at a special holiday price if anybody asks.” He giggled, maybe because we was both gaping at him. “Now that you’ve had a look around, get gone. I’ve got a store to run here, and I’ve only got Doris to help me today. Mother’s knee-deep in cutting herbs and making potions this morning at the farm.”

  His assistant, her hair poofed in a cloud around her head, waved at us.

  “Don’t burn anybody, guys!”

  I waved back at her and winked. Like she always did, she blushed and turned an even darker brown than she normally was. Her cheeks glowed.

  Walking back to the forge, I wondered what the day would bring. For all my complaining, I secretly love showing people around and having my picture took with the kids. It was like I was somebody for a day.

  The morning set the pace for the weekend. People busted into the shop the second we opened the doors. The kids’ table filled up in no time flat. Do-it-yourself was a real hit. In the afternoon, Tom ended up printing handmade tickets so there wasn’t a line outside clogging the street.

  One old woman dropped off a kid first thing after we opened and told him she’d pick him up for lunch. What the hell? I was stunned. What did she think the kid was going to do for hours here? It didn’t take that long to make a cuff.

  The kid was a skinny little guy, pale as a ghost, with carroty hair and the bluest eyes. He reminded me a little of Jimmy when we was kids.

  I squatted down next to the boy.

  “Hey there. I’m Butch. Who’re you?” Around me, Tom and his friend Wayne had organized the other kids and was demoing how to stamp the leather and braid it. The other kids was tearing through the project like they was running a race. This kid only looked scared until I asked his name.

  “Leonard Benedict Wainwright.” He whispered so low that I almost missed it. It was a lot of name for such a tiny little boy. His plaid shirt and creased jeans looked new without a mark on ’em, like he never’d worn ’em before.

  “So you want to learn how to make a cuff, huh?” I pointed at the one on my wrist. My forearm looked wider around than his waist.

  I picked up a piece of leather and shoved it toward him. He took a step back. His eyes widened like I was going to hit him.

  His move away almost made me fall over. Me hit a kid? Never.

  Instead, I patted the piece of leather in front of him on the table.

  “Here. Lemme show you how to do this. It’s easy.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jax guiding some adults around and Tom step into the sales shop while his friend organized another round of kids at the table. All three of them was staring at me.

  “Uh, I, uh, can’t do it.” Leonard slid slowly away.

  “You sure?”

  He nodded, his eyes sorrowful.

  “Well, how about you watch me make one and you think about it?” I scratched my beard, not sure how to get on with this kid.

  “Okay.” It’d took him a minute, but he finally agreed.

  Slowly, I stuck the bottom of the piece of leather through the right-hand slit
. Then I stopped and looked up.

  “That was pretty easy, right?”

  The kid’s solemn eyes studied my hands holding the leather down on the table, and then he looked up at my face. He nodded.

  “Okay. That was step one.”

  The kid next to him with a mangled piece of leather untangled his piece, smooshed it down flat with his palm and, watching my hands like a baby hawk, followed my lead. I whispered, “That’s right.”

  Leonard’s eyes slid to the kid and his piece of crumpled leather. Then he glanced quickly at me. I winked at him. His mouth lifted almost like he was going to smile.

  “Now watch this for step two.”

  Going slower than a snail, I walked them through the ten steps. Then I held up the slender piece of leather, studied it, and lifted Leonard’s left hand. I slipped the cuff around his wrist.

  “I think that looks about right. What do you think?” I held my cuff up to match his. The kid next to us added his arm to ours.

  We could have doubled the number of kid arms and they maybe still wouldn’t have matched how big mine was. But our cuffs looked pretty similar since I was wearing a simple one.

  Leonard stared at our arms for a long minute. The other kid hopped off to have Wayne put a couple of lightweight snaps in his. Leonard turned to me.

  “Thank you.”

  I grinned at his whisper.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not giving these things away, you know. You have to make it yourself if you want to keep it.”

  We had a stare down. Finally, his face looked determined. Leonard took the cuff from his wrist and undid my work. Without a word, he laid the leather on the table and looked up at me.

  By this time, my knees were killing me, so I stood with a grunt, pulled a stool over, and sat. With the same snail pace and my grimy pointing finger, I went through the steps again. This time, he did all the work.

  His look of triumph made my day.

  “What do you have there?” Jimmy was standing next to him and looking down at the cuff.