Bigfoot and the Librarian
Page 19
Luke even enjoyed the heated arguments between Springers about whether or not they should celebrate Christmas or the Winter Solstice. Of course, they celebrated both.
Back in the day there had been more businesses downtown and a larger number of occupied homes, and the lights along Main Street had been strung more expertly. Window displays had been more elaborate, and the holiday cheer of businesspeople and their customers had been cheerier. A few years ago, The Franklin Star had shone more brightly. Still, Luke continued to enjoy the lights and the air of optimism that always seemed to thrive after Thanksgiving passed.
Now that he was an adult, he played a big part in making the holiday special. Some called him Mystic Springs’ very own Santa.
In addition to owning and operating Benedict’s Hardware, Luke was the resident handyman. Not everything could be fixed with magic. If that was the case, he’d be out of business fast. He scheduled most of his repairs for Sunday afternoon or in the evenings, but now and then one of his brothers would watch the store for an hour or two while he handled an emergency job. Travis was Mystic Springs’ police chief, and Mike worked in Eufaula as an insurance salesman. Both stayed pretty busy, so their help was spotty at best.
A busy workday behind him, Luke walked the second-floor hallway of the EGG — aka The Mystic Springs Retirement Village for the Exceptionally Gifted — headed to his grandmother’s room. Normally he tried to ignore the tidbits of knowledge that came to him as he passed one door and then another, but this time of year he paid close attention to it all.
His gift was that he knew what people needed before they did.
There were days he wished his ability was stronger. Sure, he knew if you needed batteries or socks or shoestrings but, with rare exception, he never saw anything momentous. He’d seen that the town needed Marnie Somerset — Marnie Maxwell, now — the librarian, in order to survive, but that had been an aberration.
As was the case with much Springer magic, he never saw what he needed. Not a light bulb, not a loaf of bread. Nothing.
Unimpressive as it was, his gift was stronger than that of his brothers. His grandmother liked to blame their Non-Springer mother for that lamentable fact.
As Luke walked the hallway, he made mental notes. In ten days’ time, on Christmas Eve, a large number of gifts would be placed under the Main Street Christmas Tree. During the annual party, which would take place up and down Main Street, Springers would look under that tree to see if there was something there for them. He couldn’t manage gifts for everyone in town, but he never forgot the EGG residents. The woman in apartment 212 needed stamps and stationery; the man in 215, socks. Those he left gifts for always seemed to appreciate what they received, but he had to admit it was hardly exciting.
Helen Benedict had been living at the EGG since Luke’s parents had left town almost seven years ago. She complained a lot, but most of the time she liked it here. The food was good; they played cards and bingo and gossiped as if it were a competitive sport. She had a couple of close friends here, which helped. Luke suspected those three were the worst of the gossips. Every holiday was enthusiastically celebrated at the EGG. Especially Christmas.
He knocked on her door as he opened it and stepped into the apartment without waiting for a response. His Nana had called him insisting on a visit, so he was expected.
Her apartment was small, but nicely laid out. Directly to his left was a rarely used galley kitchen. Nana ate three meals a day in the dining room downstairs and didn’t have much use for her small kitchen. She did bake on occasion, when the mood struck her. At the moment the place smelled like cinnamon, so he guessed she’d been baking holiday cookies. She always did. The main room had all the comforts she needed for her everyday life. A couch, two chairs, a TV, and a small dining table and chairs, in case she wanted a midnight snack or to prepare and eat a rare meal on her own. To the right was a single bathroom and a small bedroom, which she’d decorated in her favorite color.
Purple.
She smiled for a moment, then pursed her lips and grimaced. “You look thin. Have you lost weight? Are you eating?”
“I eat plenty, and I haven’t lost any weight. If people don’t stop bringing cookies into the store, I’m going to gain twenty pounds.”
The smile came back. “Everyone wants to feed Santa cookies.”
His response was a grumble, of sorts.
“Your father called this morning,” she said, clearly perturbed. “I tried to talk him into coming home for Christmas, but he said they’d be here after New Year’s, as usual. That woman…”
“My mother,” Luke said as he walked toward his grandmother and lowered himself into his favorite chair.
“Yes, your mother,” Nana snapped. “She never did like it here, and Christmas always freaked her out. She should’ve enjoyed the snow, not spent years obsessing over the fact that it might be considered unnatural. How else are we going to get snow in South Alabama if not with a bit of magical assistance?” She huffed a bit. “I don’t know why your father couldn’t have fallen in love with a Springer.”
Luke didn’t respond. They’d had this conversation a thousand times. Helen Benedict took little comfort in the fact that her daughter-in-law had agreed to stay in Mystic Springs until her three sons were grown and could decide for themselves whether or not they wanted to stay. They all had.
Another fact which should please the Benedict matriarch.
“If you, or Mike, or Travis would make some babies, your parents would visit more often. Mike and Cindy are trying, they try all the time…”
“Nana,” Luke said in a censuring voice. “I don’t want to hear it.”
She ignored him. “Travis is a lost cause. He’s the oldest, he should’ve had babies years ago. If he hasn’t found a wife by his age, he likely never will. Why, he’s almost 40!”
“He’s 36,” Luke argued.
“As I said, almost 40.”
Everyone in the family wanted more Benedict babies. His mother, his grandmother, even his dad. Luke wondered why. Would Mystic Springs even exist in twenty years? Maybe. Maybe not. He couldn’t imagine raising a family anywhere else, which made long-term plans difficult. If the town simply faded away, everyone would have to move on. Everyone would have to leave their magic behind.
Beyond the city limits Springer magic faded until it disappeared entirely.
“I have a hundred gifts to wrap so I can’t stay long,” he said. “Is there anything else?” It had not been necessary for her to call him over to share the news of his parents’ visit, which had not altered in the past few years, or to bemoan the lack of babies.
Suddenly serious, his grandmother looked him in the eye. “As you know, you inherited your gift from me.”
“From you and my father, yes.”
“Mine was different, individual to me just as yours is individual to you.”
He didn’t need to be told that his abilities were inferior to what hers had been, before they’d started to fade when she’d been well into her eighties.
“I never did see the practical side of need, as you do.”
Practical. That was one way to put it.
She looked him in the eye. “Every now and then I still see need in someone. Often the vision comes in dreams, or while I’m sitting in my chair half asleep. It’s rare these days, but when the knowledge does come it hits like a thunderbolt.”
“What did you see?”
She gave him a sly smile. “I saw you. I know what you need.”
He waited for her to continue in her own time, which she would when she was good and ready.
“Luke Benedict, you need a woman.”
He couldn’t argue with that, though he supposed Nana’s definition of need and his were not the same, at this moment.
“Even more,” she continued, “she needs you.”
Okay, he’d bite. “Got a name for this woman?”
“You’ll have to figure that out for yourself.” She rose from her chair and
headed for the kitchen. “Want a cookie?”
About the Author
Linda's first book, the historical romance Guardian Angel, was released in 1994, and in the years since she's written in several romance sub-genres under several names. In order of appearance, Linda Winstead; Linda Jones; Linda Winstead Jones; Linda Devlin; and Linda Fallon. She's a six time finalist for the RITA Award and a winner (for Shades of Midnight) in the paranormal category. She’s a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than seventy books. Most recently she's been writing as Linda Jones in a couple of joint projects with Linda Howard, re-releasing some of her backlist in e-book format, and diving into a new paranormal series set in the fictional Alabama town of Mystic Springs.
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Also by Linda Winstead Jones
Mystic Springs
Bigfoot and the Librarian
Santa and the Snow Witch, a novella
* * *
Christmas Music and Magic
Blue Christmas, a novella
Always on My Mind, a novella
* * *
Romantic Suspense
Bridger’s Last Stand
Clint’s Wild Ride
Running Scared
* * *
Time Travel Romance
Desperado’s Gold
On a Wicked Wind
* * *
Fairy Tale Romance
Into the Woods
DeButy and the Beast
Someone’s Been Sleeping in My Bed
Big Bad Wolf
Let Me Come In
Cinderfella
One Day, My Prince
Jackie and the Giant
Let Down Your Hair
* * *
Fantasy/Paranormal
The Sun Witch
The Moon Witch
The Star Witch
* * *
Western Historical Romance
Sullivan
Jed
Cash
The Seduction of Roxanne
* * *
For more, visit Linda’s website!