2 Mayhem in Christmas River

by Meg Muldoon

  It was gorgeous.

  Almost as gorgeous as his words and sentiments.

  I glanced from him to the diamond, and then back to him, staring at both with equal disbelief.

  I was completely speechless.

  I had known this moment was coming, sooner or later. But somehow, it had still caught me off guard.

  I was as floored as the gas pedal of an Indy 500 race car.

  And his words were just left hanging in the air as I tried to regain some measure of composure.

  He waited for me to say something. When I couldn’t, he started in again.

  “Listen, I know how you feel about this,” he said. “You don’t want to get married again. You’ve told me that, and I get it. But I’ve thought a lot about this, and I know in my heart, in my bones, in my soul… that you’re the one. You’re mine, Cinnamon. And I promise to always do right by you.”

  He waited again for me to say something. But it was like I was trapped in a sheet of peanut butter brittle. I just couldn’t break through and find the words.

  “Please, say something, Cin,” he finally said.

  I cleared my throat. A fresh stream of tears were rolling down my cheeks.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I said in a hoarse voice.

  “Yes you do,” he said. “Say yes.”

  I looked down into his eyes and felt myself drawn into them.

  I couldn’t remember ever feeling so much love for a single person in all my life.

  But still. Still.

  I couldn’t bring myself to say what he wanted to hear.

  I squeezed his hand.

  “Daniel, you know I love you so much,” I said.

  He looked away for a moment, knowing what lay ahead from the tone of my voice.

  I thought I might die of guilt right then and there.

  I wiped the tears off my face.

  “But?” he said.

  “We’ve talked about this,” I said. “I love you. You’re the one for me too. But… but I don’t think I can go through with it again.”

  My voice dried up like a grape in the sun, and I trailed off.

  I knew that nothing I could say now would help any.

  There was a brief glimmer of hurt in his eyes.

  He stood up.

  “I’m not like him,” he said. “Like that bastard you married the first time. I’d never do that to you.”

  “I know you’re not,” I said. “I love you so much and a piece of paper wouldn’t matter when it came to that.”

  He fell silent. Then he closed the black box and put it back in his pocket.

  “Can’t things stay the way they are?” I asked. “Aren’t they perfect just like this?”

  He stared at the fire, getting dimmer and dimmer, and then shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “I want it all, Cinnamon. And I want you to have it all, too.”

  “And if I can’t give that to you?” I said.

  He didn’t say anything for a while.

  “You don’t have to answer now,” he said, a coldness in his voice. “In fact, I don’t want you to. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

  “Daniel, I…”

  “I think I’m going to take Huckleberry for a walk before bed,” he said, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “I’ll let you think about it some more.”

  “Daniel, I…”

  He whistled for Huckleberry, and the dog rolled over from his food-induced coma and followed him across the dark meadow.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  But I knew he couldn’t hear me.

  I watched as the fire died, and I was left alone in the moonless night.

  Chapter 7

  I rolled out the buttery dough of another pie crust and furiously pushed it down into the nooks and crannies of an aluminum pan.

  I didn’t know if there was a more foolish woman alive.

  What had I just done?

  I was back at the shop. It was only ten in the morning, but already it was burning up. Opening the windows didn’t help. The thermometer said it was already 80 degrees outside.

  Stupid air conditioner. The repair guys were backed up all week. Seemed like air conditioners were breaking down all over the county in this heat wave. The repair business was making a killing while I was sweating it out in an overheated kitchen.

  I could have asked Daniel to take a look at it, but I didn’t want to, for obvious reasons.

  So I spent the morning baking pie crusts and making fillings and working myself up into a sweaty mess while trying to distract myself from thinking about the worst anniversary celebration there possibly ever was.

  Of course, the more I tried not to think about it, the more I did.

  Early this morning, when Daniel and I hiked out of the meadow, we were barely speaking.

  Everything had been ruined. And it had all been my fault.

  He’d pulled out all the stops for me. He’d made dinner, bought me a beautiful sparkly rock that must have cost him at least two-months’ pay, and told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. And what was my response to him baring his soul?

  I told him I didn’t want any of it.

  But what he didn’t understand, and what I failed to communicate, was that it wasn’t because I didn’t love him, or because I felt unsure about him in any way.

  I just couldn’t go through with it again. He’d said that he wanted it all, and that he wanted me to have it all, but what he didn’t understand was that I had been there.

  And that there was a downside to having it all. A downside as steep as a thousand-foot cliff dropping off into the ocean.

  Because when you have it all, it can all be ripped away. And when you lose it like that, you don’t want to go on living.

  And as much as I loved him and wanted to give him everything, I couldn’t risk that. Not ever again.

  I shoved a pan full of pie crusts into the oven to pre-bake and then slammed the oven door.

  Daniel wouldn’t understand it because he’d never been married before. And it killed me to think that I had hurt him.

  I flashed on him holding my hand in the meadow, telling me what I meant to him. The memory scratched against the inside of my skull and made me sick with shame.

  I’d never been proposed to like that before. Evan hadn’t really officially proposed. It had been more of a discussion than a request, and it seemed like the next thing I knew, we were at the county courthouse. He said he didn’t want a big wedding, and I’d played along with it, lying to myself that I didn’t either.

  But I had at the time. But it was a different story now.

  I’d seen the ugly side of marriage. And I couldn’t bear the thought of going through it with someone I loved as much as Daniel.

  I hadn’t told Kara about the proposal yet, and I didn’t want to. She’d probably agree with Daniel and that little annoying voice deep down in me that was saying how much of a fool I was. She was a romantic, and I doubted if she’d understand why I’d turned him down.

  I let out a long sigh.

  What a damn mess.

  A trickle of sweat ran down the side of my face.

  Between the brutal heat and my own torturous thoughts, it was all shaping up to be one hell of a day.

  Chapter 8

  Kara came over just after noon. I had zipped down the street and gotten us a couple of ice-cold mocha’s from the Christmas Coffee Hut while Chrissy handled the front of the house. When Kara saw the drinks sitting on the kitchen island, she looked at me with an appreciative expression.

  “Just what I’ve been needing,” she said. “It’s hotter than Hades out there.”

  Maybe the tasty drink would distract her from seeing that I was upset about something.

  Kara was dressed in a pink tank top, white shorts and rhinestone-studded sandals. Her blond hair was up in a high ponytail, and she looked perfectly prepared to do battle with a 90-degree plus day.

  It looked as though
she’d successfully recovered from her Mrs. Claus-inspired breakdown the day before.

  “It’s hot as hell in here, too,” I said, wiping away a stream of sweat that had unleashed itself down my temple.

  I’d put some temporary fans in the windows, but they didn’t do much good. All they seemed to do was circulate more hot air through the kitchen.

  “When are you gonna get the AC fixed?”

  “As soon as Roger and his so-called air conditioner repair company actually get off their asses and get around to it,” I said. “Which means I’m not counting on it being fixed anytime soon.”

  Kara took a long sip from her mocha and glanced over at me, and I could tell she was starting to suspect something was up.

  I’d never been good at hiding my feelings from her.

  “Can’t Daniel try and fix it?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “He’s too busy over at the station, and I don’t feel like asking him right now.”

  I turned around and checked on the pies in the oven, even though they were still doughy on top and had more than half an hour to go.

  “So…” Kara started. “How’d things go last night?”

  I could feel those big blue eyes of her probing me, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before everything came spilling out.

  I was terrible at lying. Especially to her.

  I sat back down and started sucking on the coffee straw until I was just drinking melted ice.

  “You’ve got to promise me something before I tell you,” I said, rolling the plastic cup between my hands. “Don’t judge me, all right? And don’t call me a fool. At least not until I explain to you why I did what I did.”

  Her eyes went wide, and she put her coffee down.

  “Who do you think I am, Cin? You know I’d never do such a thing. Not to my best friend. Now tell me what’s going on because you’re making me nervous. I mean, you all didn’t kill anyone last night, did you?”

  That would have normally made me laugh. But I could barely smile.

  “No, we didn’t kill anyone,” I said.

  “Well, phew at that,” she said.

  “But last night, well…” I took a deep breath. “Daniel popped the question.”

  Kara’s mouth dropped open. Then she started laughing wildly.

  “Oh my God,” she said, placing a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, Cinnamon!? That’s amazing. Congratulations!”

  She tackled me with a hug.

  “Where’s the ring? You know I’ve got to see it. I want to see what a big spender this Daniel Brightman really is.”

  My stomach tightened.

  I had known she’d react this way. And I knew too she’d have trouble understanding that I hadn’t taken the ring.

  Kara, despite having gone through a divorce herself, came out of it with no grudges against the institution of marriage. She still watched wedding dress shows and occasionally bought bridal magazines, and watched Rom-Com movies with big-wedding fairytale endings.

  I didn’t think she’d have any hesitation in saying yes again if and when she found the right man to marry.

  I shook my head. My throat felt dry and words weren’t coming out.

  “Oh—right. You probably didn’t want to wear it while you’re making pies,” she said. “But you have to tell me all about it. Don’t you dare leave out any detail!”

  I knew this had been a mistake.

  “No, Kara,” I said. “You don’t understand. You see, I didn’t exactly say… yes.”

  She suddenly gasped loudly, like she’d just choked on something. Her mouth dropped open again, and she just stared at me with a shocked expression on her face.

  Big mistake.

  “You didn’t,” she said.

  I nodded.

  “I know, I know. But I just...,” I said, struggling to find the words. “You see, when Evan and I got divorced, I promised myself that I would never go through that again. I never want to get married again.”

  I couldn’t look at Kara. I was scared I would see a cloud of judgment pass over her face, and on top of everything else, I just couldn’t handle seeing that.

  “But,” she said, and then stopped, rephrasing her thoughts. “But you love Daniel, don’t you?”

  I looked back at her.

  I didn’t detect any judgment. Not yet, anyway.

  “More than anything,” I said.

  “Then what’s the hold-up?” she said.

  “I just can’t,” I said, shaking my head.

  “But Cin, Daniel’s a good man. He’s not like Evan. And marriage isn’t all bad. And with someone like him, well, so many women would just ki—“

  “I’m not like so many other women,” I said. “And I can’t go through it again. I just can’t.”

  I buried my head in my hands.

  Kara patted my shoulder.

  She was doing her best to be a good friend, even though I knew she didn’t understand where I was coming from.

  “Well, maybe he’s just not the right one,” she said. “Maybe that’s why you’re hesitating.”

  “No,” I said. “That’s not it. That’s not it at—”

  We both suddenly jumped as the ear-shattering howl of a siren drowned out my voice.

  Kara and I looked at each other with startled eyes.

  The siren got louder and louder, and the pastry shop shook as something large rumbled down Main Street.

  I got to my feet.

  “What in the hell…?” Kara muttered.

  I went through the doors and out to the front of the shop to see what was going on.

  The customers in the dining area were all standing by the window, leaving their half-eaten pies at the booths while they watched the flashing lights of the fire engine outside. Chrissy was standing by the window too.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  I followed everyone’s gaze across the street.

  And that’s when I saw it.

  Thick streams of black smoke were rising up from one of the storefronts. Licks of orange flame reached into the sky.

  “Dear God,” I said, putting a hand over my mouth.

  Kara came up and stood on her tiptoes, looking over the heads of the spectators.

  I looked at her, a dumbfounded expression on my face.

  I didn’t know what to say or do. It was like time had slowed down and we were all reacting as if we were underwater.

  I watched Kara as the realization slowly hit her. And when she understood, her face went white as the first snowfall of the year.

  “Jesus H. Christ!” she said, looking at me with wild and frightened eyes. “Jesus H. Christ!”

  She pushed past the spectators and flung the door open, running out into the street. The driver of a car headed northbound had to slam on his brakes as she ran out in front of him.

  “Wait Kara!” I screamed as she threw herself into more traffic.

  I ran out the door and chased after her as the flames coming from her ornament shop reached higher and higher into the sky.

  Chapter 9

  There’s not a worse smell on earth than the singed aroma of burnt dreams.

  Kara sat on the curb near her fire-ravaged Christmas ornament shop, tears streaming down her face. A fireman had put an aluminum blanket around her shoulders, and she clung to it while she cried.

  I was trying to console her as best I could, but I wasn’t helping much. Firefighters were still walking around the area, sectioning off the block and keeping the tourists away.

  Kara had just gotten done ripping her employee, Joann, a new one.

  “You were supposed to be watching the store!” she yelled at her before crumpling to the ground in sobs.

  Joann was speechless and kept running her hands through her greying hair.

  I felt bad for her. She’d left for fifteen minutes, or so she had said, to call her son. When she’d come back, firefighters had arrived to extinguish the blaze that had broken out during her absence.

  Kara�
�s ornament store, Ornate Ornaments, which she had practically dedicated the last five years of her life to, was now a burned-out cavern of twisted metal and plastic.

  What do you say to someone whose life had just gone up in flames?

  I didn’t know. Still, I tried.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I said, putting my arm around her. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “How, Cin?” she said. “You know what this shop meant to me. It’s my…”

  She started sobbing before she could finish the sentence.

  “I’m so, so sorry, hon,” I said, looking up at the blackened remains of her store.

  I swallowed back tears of my own.

  “This really sucks,” I said.

  “That doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she muttered, her hands clasped over her face.

  A shadow passed over us. I squinted up at the figure blocking the sun.

  The trademark cowboy hat gave him away.

  “Are you two okay?” Daniel asked, crouching down next to us.

  Kara nodded.

  He glanced at me briefly and then looked back at Kara quickly, but I had already seen it.

  That look of hurt, the same one he’d had the night before, flashed across his face.

  I felt nauseous.

  “I wasn’t in the shop when it happened,” she said distantly.

  “I know. I’ve just been talking to the fire chief,” he said. “I’m sorry about this. I can only imagine what you’re going through right now, Kara.”

  “Did the fire chief say what caused it?” she asked, looking at him sharply. “Because I swear, if it was something I did, I’m gonna lose it. I mean, I just couldn’t…”

  She trailed off, the words growing too thick with emotion and clinging to the back of her throat.

  Daniel patted her hand.

  “They don’t know anything yet,” he said. “But you’ll be the first to know when they do.”

  Kara sunk her head back into her hands.

  “I can’t believe this just happened,” she said. “I can’t believe it’s all go—”

  “Kara?!”

  A voice rang out through the streets, interrupting her despair.

  She squinted into the distance, trying to see where the noise was coming from. She stood up and shook off the aluminum blanket.