Almost Christmas

by Brooke St. James

  Almost

  Christmas

  By:

  Brooke St. James

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

  Copyright © 2016

  Brooke St. James

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Other titles available from Brooke St. James:

  Another Shot:

  A Modern-Day Ruth and Boaz Story

  When Lightning Strikes

  Something of a Storm (All in Good Time #1)

  Someone Someday (All in Good Time #2)

  Finally My Forever (Meant for Me #1)

  Finally My Heart's Desire (Meant for Me #2)

  Finally My Happy Ending (Meant for Me #3)

  Shot by Cupid's Arrow

  Dreams of Us

  Meet Me in Myrtle Beach (Hunt Family #1)

  Kiss Me in Carolina (Hunt Family #2)

  California's Calling (Hunt Family #3)

  Back to the Beach (Hunt Family #4)

  It's About Time (Hunt Family #5)

  Loved Bayou (Martin Family #1)

  Dear California (Martin Family #2)

  My One Regret (Martin Family #3)

  Broken and Beautiful (Martin Family #4)

  Back to the Bayou (Martin Family #5)

  Chapter 1

  My name is Mae Abbott, and I was raised in the rolling hills of Northern Kentucky in a small town situated on the Ohio River. I had scarcely been outside of our little town my whole life. Many times over the years, I had dreamed of making a raft out of sticks and rope and setting adrift down the river like Tom Sawyer. Not that I was seeking treasure, because I wasn't, but I still wanted to run away. I found comfort in the fact that someone had the nerve to pick up and take off like that—even if it was a fictional character. I had imagined myself doing it ever since I was a kid, but I never actually went through with it.

  I should probably go ahead and explain why I spent my whole life wishing I could run away.

  My mom, God rest her soul, was a beautiful woman on the outside, but she was plagued with problems—mostly self-inflicted. She was the town addict and tramp. (Although I didn't know this until I was in middle school and someone came right out and said those specific words to me.) She had a secret affair with a man who, at the time, was a town councilman. He ended up becoming the mayor and had held that office for at least the last ten years.

  The affair my mother had with this man resulted in a pregnancy, and that pregnancy resulted in me. Everybody in town knew I was a fatherless child, but none of them knew about Mayor Dunlop's role in the situation. There was only one reason my mom didn't tell anyone over the years. Money. From the time I was born, he paid my mother's rent in exchange for her keeping quiet about it.

  She told me he was my dad when I was eleven years old, but she made me promise and cross my heart not to ever repeat that information to anybody. She said if I did, we wouldn't have a place to live. I had seen his face on signs, and even seen him in person a few times, but I just looked away when he glanced at me and acted like my mom never told me who he was.

  My mom had a different guy at the house all the time, and most of them didn't know how to treat a lady or her daughter. I cringe when I think of all the things I witnessed at too early of an age. I didn't think much of it at the time. I guess I assumed my life was normal since I didn't know any better. But once I got a little older, I started reading books and found out that my mother's lifestyle (thus my own) was highly dysfunctional. I was about twelve when this reality set in, and that's when I started daydreaming about floating away on a raft. I dreamed about it, but I never followed through—mostly because I was afraid my mom would die without me there to do things like blow out candles and turn off the oven.

  She died in spite of me sticking around. She passed away of a heart attack a few years ago. I certainly wasn't happy when she passed away, but there was an undeniable weight lifted from my shoulders.

  Fast-forward a few years, and once again, I found myself in a position where all I wanted to do was build a raft and run away again. This time it wasn't about my mother, but my desire to do it was just as strong as it had been when she was alive. There was a little window of time when I first met Jeff that I thought my life might turn out okay—like I might end up happy, but that period of time was over. Somehow, things had transformed to a situation that left me with no other choice but to run away.

  Jeff Kerry and I were high school sweethearts. That's what I'll call us since that's how you refer to people who have been together since high school. The word sweetheart, however, in no way describes Jeff.

  We met when we were freshmen in high school and started dating as sophomores, which meant we had been together for seven years. He was better to me in the early years. We didn't have a ton in common even back then, but he was an okay guy, and I was bound and determined not to end up like my mother, so I purposed in my mind to pick one man and stay with him.

  Jeff was never the nicest guy. I feel ashamed to admit this, but something about that drew me to him at first. Some part of me felt the need to try to impress him or win him over. During the last couple of years, however, Jeff had gotten increasingly possessive of me. It wasn't in a romantic way like heroes in books, either. It was in a scary way. He had this serious expression when he was mad that looked like he wanted to hit me—like he was barely able to stop himself from doing it, and he'd take pleasure in it if he actually let it happen. I'd seen that same look on a few of the guys who came into my mom's house over the years, and I knew it for what it was, even back then.

  Jeff gave me that look a few times in the first few years, but lately it seemed as if he was doing it all the time. He had only acted on it four times, but they were all within the last year, and he didn't show any signs of slowing down. The first time he did it, I ended up with a sprained wrist and a huge bruise on my backside and hip. I tried to break up with him, but said that wasn't an option—that he'd sooner kill me than lose me. I confronted him about it once he had the chance to cool down, and he played it off like he was just in the heat of the moment.

  I started making plans to leave him right when that happened, and I was glad I did, because the next three times had gotten progressively worse. Unlike the kid version of myself, I was all grown up now, and I had the patience and foresight to plan a decent escape—one I would actually carry out.

  I had been planning it for a year, and now it was here. Today was the day my life would change forever. I had hardly been able to sleep for the past week. I had been running on caffeine and adrenaline.

  I planned the whole thing for this exact night because there were a few events that specifically needed to line up. I worked two jobs—one as a bank teller, and the other as a part-time waitress three nights a week. I started waiting tables because it was a way I could tuck away small amounts of cash without Jeff knowing about it. I couldn't do that at the bank since he controlled everything and knew exactly how much I made.

  Jeff was against me taking the waitressing job at first, but I tricked him into letting me do it by mentioning that I wanted to get him a special gift. I let him catch me looking at exp
ensive rifles online so that he could make all the wrong assumptions, and it worked.

  Jeff reluctantly agreed to let me take the job. He was really jealous, though, and could often be seen parked at the restaurant so that he could keep an eye on me while I was working. He scared me, which was exactly what he wanted to do because he knew a scared woman was a woman who wouldn't pick up and run away.

  He was relying on me being afraid.

  He was relying on me not running away.

  That was exactly the reason I had to do it. I had no other choice but to get over my fears and leave. His grip was tightening as the months went by, and at this pace, I'd be in real physical danger before long.

  I know it might seem silly, but it was reading fiction that made me know I deserved something better. It was also because of these fictional books that I learned I had to think like the enemy if I wanted to survive. I had read hundreds of novels in my life, and the adventures that were had by the characters in my books and the bravery they exuded during these adventures kept me going night after night while I acted like I was still in love with Jeff. For the last year, I pretended everything was fine while saving money and convincing myself I could eventually do something courageous like the women in the books I read.

  I had one good friend in life who knew everything that was going on with Jeff and me. We had been best friends in high school, and had trusted each other with everything over the years. Her name was Kristen Forester and she worked at the restaurant where I picked up my second job. She was the one who got me the job, actually. She was supportive of my escape plan from the second I told her about it. Obviously, we'd miss each other, but she knew I had to get out.

  I had been very strategic about planning the night I left, and it all came down to this. Jeff had to drive two hours south (to a town called Berea) to help his brother with a horse he bought from a woman there. They had to buy a trailer from another guy while they were there, so I knew he'd be gone all day and into the evening.

  Another reason it was perfect timing was that it was almost Christmas, and I had just gotten a two-hundred-dollar bonus from my boss at the restaurant. Jeff knew nothing of this. Kristen, being the amazing saint she was, gave her bonus to me as well. Hers was three hundred because she was a manager. That added five hundred dollars to the seven hundred I had managed to tuck away over the last year.

  I knew this amount wouldn't last long, but I was prepared to live on next to nothing and sleep in my car so I could stretch my budget to the max. It had to happen, and there was no getting around the fact that today was the ideal time.

  Knowing this did nothing to aid my anxiousness. Jeff and his brother left earlier, and I had been delirious with nerves all morning while I was trying to pack. It was hard to whittle down a lifetime of personal possessions to an amount that could fit into a Toyota Corolla, but I made it work since I had already convinced myself that I had no other choice to go through with it.

  I was terrified of leaving, and yet there I was with my car packed strategically so that I could recline to sleep in the driver's seat.

  I did my best to act casual as I stopped by the restaurant on my way out of town, but it was difficult since I was out of my mind with nerves. If I still had access to some of those pills my mom had lying around the house when I was little, I would have taken the one that calmed me down—that's how nervous I was.

  Kristen got someone to cover her tables while she took a break and walked outside with me. She took off her apron and hung it on a rack near the back door, pulling a red envelope out of it as she did. It was nearing the end of December, and a rush of cold air hit us as we stepped outside, squinting into the sunlight. She handed me the envelope, and I could tell by the size and padded feel of it that it was stuffed to the brim with money.

  "It's not as much as it feels like," she said. "There's a lot of fives and tens in there. But it's a little more than three hundred in all. I wanted it to be more, but that's all I could come up with this time of year, I'm sorry."

  Stinging hot tears burned my eyes, and I blinked hard in an effort to clear them. I was already so over the top with nerves and emotions, that I had no capability of responding to her gift with any sort of poise. I wheezed and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying in vein to stop my face from crumpling with the need to cry. Kristen put her arms around me and held me there. After a few seconds, her chest made a jerky movement that told me she was also crying.

  "I can't take this," I said.

  She shook her head. "Consider it a Christmas gift."

  "You've already given me your bonus, Kristen." My voice wavered as I tried to hold myself together. I just couldn't. Tears burned my eyes and came flowing out even though I begged myself to stop. I was delirious and scared, and it seemed as though the more I searched for composure, the more it eluded me. Kristen and I stood there, crying and holding each other tightly. Our sobs had a bitter edge to them—like we were both certain it would be the last time we'd ever see each other.

  Chapter 2

  "What in the world has gotten into you girls?" Thelma Brown asked as she approached the back door of the restaurant, carrying three boxes stacked on top of each other, which I knew contained pies.

  Kristen and I were standing a few feet from the door. It was unlike us to stand there and not run over and get the door for her, but we were a smoldering hot mess at the moment. We had just begun to try to get ourselves together for me to drive off when Mrs. Brown walked up.

  "We're fine!" Kristen called in an overly enthusiastic tone as she smiled and waved.

  Mrs. Brown, who was used to carrying pies, easily got the door for herself, but she gave us a skeptical glance as she looked at us, like she wasn't quite convinced we were, in fact, fine.

  I smiled and waved at her, feeling thankful for the bright, early afternoon sunlight that was shining on my face, giving me an excuse to squint. My smile was totally fake, but Mrs. Brown seemed to buy it, and she went inside with no further questions.

  "What if he comes looking for me?" I whispered. It was my greatest fear and the question that had been plaguing me since I started making plans to leave. It was a cold day, and I shook from the temperature and my nerves.

  "He's not gonna come lookin'," she said, hugging me and rubbing my back to try to get me to stop shivering. "He's too proud for that."

  "What if he comes here and threatens you?" I asked, unable to stop the paranoia I felt from coming out of my mouth.

  "I'll just tell him the truth," she said. "That I don't know where you are. Did you get the title to your car and all that?" she asked.

  "Yeah, and he's gonna be mad at me for taking it since he paid the note."

  "He paid the note with your money," she said, shaking her head at me like I was crazy for saying that man did anything for me. "That's your car," she said. "It's in your name, and there's nothing he can do about you taking it."

  I sighed thinking of all the different ways Jeff could possibly react. "I might trade it in once I get settled somewhere—you know, and truly just start over."

  I pulled my cell phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and handed it to her along with the envelope. "Just throw it into the lake or something," I said referring to the phone. "I don't want him finding it."

  She took it from me, but she was careful not to take the envelope when she made the transfer.

  "I want you to have it," she said, pushing my hand away from her. "Don't make me explain the reasons why, Mae. It's only gonna make us both cry again." She paused, shaking her head. "Just go ahead and take it and get out of here," she said. "You need to, and we both know it, so just rip it off like a band-aid."

  "I can get in touch again later, after the dust settles and everything."

  "Just go start somethin' new, Mae-Mae," she said, even though I could tell it pained her to say it. "You don't need to think about getting in touch later. All you need to think about is getting in your car and getting out of here. Mrs. Thelma is gonna be back out her
e in a minute. You better get goin'."

  "I know, it's just, you're my hardest goodbye."

  "You think I don't know that?" she said, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me along, toward my car. "It's even harder on the ones stayin' behind. I'm just pretending to be fine so that you can get out of here without everybody noticing us. I love you, Mae. That's why I'm making you drive away right now."

  "I love you, too," I whispered through tears as I sat in the driver's seat.

  She closed the door for me, and I started the engine before rolling down the window. "I don't know what to say about this money," I said. "You can't afford to do this."

  "Yes I can, or I wouldn't have," she said, patting the door in a gesture that said she wanted me to put the car in gear and get out of there. "I love you," she said, turning to walk away. Both of us were helpless to stop the tears. We cried and shook our heads at the ridiculousness of it all as I backed out of my parking spot and drove off.

  I needed to head east, and to do so, I could go southeast Kentucky, or northeast through Ohio. Obviously, I wasn't going south through Kentucky since that was where Jeff had gone, so I followed signs to Cincinnati when I left town.

  I had never been so out of it in my life. I barely remembered the first hour of driving, and I was thankful that I had already studied a map and knew which way I was going. I was well past Cincinnati when I realized I had been white-knuckling the steering wheel and was sitting forward in an uncomfortable position.

  I sat back and took a deep breath, feeling like it was the first time I got a good breath of air in my lungs since I pulled out of town. I let my shoulders slump as I sat back, unclenching my hands from the iron grip they had on the steering wheel. I took another long, deep breath, since one didn't seem like enough. I felt as if I had turned to stone in that uncomfortable driving position, and I was just beginning to crack out of a shell and become pliable again.