Merry Me

by Amanda Siegrist

  The other three gift ideas still hung in the air like a mistletoe waiting for a beautiful couple to kiss underneath. What in the world would she get Laura with money she didn't have? Now that the twenty was gone, her conscience clear that she donated, her predicament just transferred into a new puzzle. Why couldn't something spectacular have popped out at her while she searched the house?

  Not a stranger to extra hours and hard work at the diner, there was really only one solution. Even more extra hours and hard work than ever before. Not that it was helping her particularly at the moment. A busy morning and hardly anything to show for it. Rude outsiders that strolled through the town, demanding this and that as she broke her back to appease their every little desire. And did she receive a decent tip as gratitude? More like a slap in the face. Perhaps that was her sign she should've put more thought into the gift for the church. Karma always came around.

  Two more weeks before Christmas. Positive thinking. Anything could be accomplished with an optimistic outlook. Life had taught her that.

  A deep breath escaped. Picturing her daughter's face always brightened her mood. Like her excitement this morning.

  "What are you doing, Mom? You've been tearing the house apart all morning. Have you found what you're looking for? Can't imagine it's hidden in your sock drawer," Laura had said, raising an eyebrow to the drawer hanging open behind Lynn.

  "Just looking for, you know, stuff. Are you ready for school?"

  "Yes, Mom." Laura had shuffled her feet for a millisecond before blurting, "A few of the other girls are doing secret Santa gifts this year and asked if I wanted to join in. Sounds like fun. Max spending amount is ten dollars. Can I do it, Mom?"

  Laura had rushed into the room a few steps when Lynn's mouth had started to open. "I have money in my piggy bank. I already counted. I have ten dollars of my own money. I really wanna do it. Please, Mom. Please, please, please."

  If there was one thing Lynn had never liked, it was Laura spending her money on other people. Now she understood it was Christmas, but like Lynn, Laura saved her money wisely to buy herself something special every once in a while. She'd rather give Laura ten dollars to join in on the secret Santa fun instead of using her own money.

  Problem. Of course, there's always a problem. Lynn didn't have ten dollars to give her. But denying the happiness that spread across Laura's face had her saying only one thing.

  "If you want to use your own money, then that's fine. We can go shopping this weekend."

  Laura had grabbed her into a huge hug, squeezing tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you, Mom. I need to grab my bag and I'm ready to go. Hurry up, Mom. We'll be late if you don't hurry up."

  "Shoo. I'll be right out there." Lynn had motioned for her daughter to leave, turning back toward her dresser.

  That's the exact moment the twenty had disappeared into the box with a lousy pair of Christmas socks. The stress of everything had bogged her down. Wrapping the present, releasing heavy sighs in between ripping off pieces of tape, her Christmas obligation had been completed. To lighten the pain around her heart for taking the easy way out, she had written words to uplift the recipient. Her words would have to be enough to instill the Christmas spirit.

  Utterly crazy. The whole ordeal.

  As she had tied the ribbon, the crimson red with white shimmering snowflakes twinkling in front of her eyes, the heavy weight of guilt had pulled her down like an anchor falling to the ocean floor. That cemented the decision even further. She had donated every single year. As she would this year. She wasn't a family in need. Never once had she considered herself to be a family in need. She did just fine raising her daughter by herself and didn't need anyone's help. And curse the person who said otherwise.

  When she had dropped the gift off to Father Preston, she had seen the strange look in his eyes that he wanted to deny her gift. That he had considered her to be a family in need. Of course, when he tried to persuade her to keep it, nothing but a smile graced his features.

  Friendly or not, his words had fallen false to her ears. Speaking ill towards a priest, especially Father Preston, who treated her as if she were family, would turn her into her mother. Definitely not a woman she inspired to be.

  Slipping out a half-truth that plenty of love and thoughtfulness went into picking out the gift, Lynn had made it impossible for him to refuse. And with one last glance at Father Preston as he had lifted the gift in goodbye, the bright red ribbon had flashed again.

  Hurriedly, she had left the church before she snatched the present back. The urge had followed her each step she took to the junker of a car she proudly owned.

  After arriving at the diner, about a mile away, the thought that she should voluntarily sign in to a mental ward sounded ideal. One problem after another as the shift progressed had brought the despair lower and lower.

  A calming breath released as her spine steeled. No mental ward. No wishing upon a star. No lucky penny in her pocket. Only hard work and determination to make some wonderful, astronomical tips the next few days would save her Christmas.

  Yeah, right. Like that was ever going to happen. The way this hectic day was going, she'd be lucky if she left in one piece.

  "Hey, Lynn, I need you back out here," her co-worker Jeremy yelled down the hallway.

  Lynn pushed herself off the wall, pasted her friendly diner-smile on, and walked back out to hopefully make a killing and give Laura the best Christmas ever.

  The day couldn't possibly get any worse.

  Chapter 2

  Blowing out a strained breath, Elliot took a left toward the church. He never had this much trouble solving a case before. Not that he ever had real difficult cases to handle. Living in Mulberry, population 521, didn’t gain that many troubling cases. They never had any murders, a few natural deaths that still hurt to deal with, but the shock would tear him apart if a murder ever occurred in his peaceful town. They had occasional break-ins, assaults, thefts, and minor petty crime, but nothing like the rest of the country dealt with.

  He was good at his job. Just not today.

  He had already stopped by their church, St. Paul's Cathedral, and spoken to Father Benson, who didn't remember seeing the particular present that was slowly starting to burn a hole in his gut. Not that he dealt with every present, but like Elliot thought, Father Benson had remarked how old the paper looked and the delicacy of the red ribbon.

  Elliot had even spoken to Eileen, who ran the front office in the cathedral. She handled each gift personally, not recognizing the gift, which spiked his annoyance level up the Richter scale to major. Of course, he swallowed any frustration with a kind thanks for her time. She thoughtfully suggested he check each church in the surrounding towns.

  Like Mulberry, three other small towns clustered around the area before encountering a long stretch until reaching the first large city, St. Cloud. He had already checked Brighton and Melborne. That made Mason his last destination. As he took another turn, this time right, his chest constricted as a ray of sunlight struck his vision. The tightness slowly receded as the brightness enveloped the car. Was that hope swirling around?

  A little bit of hope and a dash of luck would make the day even brighter. Otherwise, he'd have to assume someone left the gift on his porch from his own town. One horrible thought wouldn't leave.

  Marybeth left it. The image of what she had in mind with the socks was a very disturbing one.

  But that wily spark he had seen in his dad's eyes had to mean this gift came from one of the churches. Like a pirate looking for lost treasure, the mission would not end until he found the owner. Hell, he'd expand his search grid if he had to. No matter how many calming breaths or loosening of his limbs, the impulse to return the gift to its rightful owner coursed through his veins. It tingled in every nerve, refusing to stop. He'd solve this mystery before the day ended, or else.

  Or else? Best not to think about that scary alternative.

  He pulled into St. Mary's Cathedral parking
lot and switched off the ignition. Gripping the steering wheel hard before releasing a small breath, he jumped out of the car as he clutched the present a little too tightly. Another breath escaped as he loosened his grip and climbed the four steps up to the front door of the church.

  He didn't make it very far into the foyer when a friendly voice spoke from his left. "Good afternoon. How may I help you on this joyous day?"

  Elliot turned towards the priest with a pasted smile. "Afternoon, Father. I'm Chief Duncan from Mulberry."

  The priest stepped forward and shook his hand, his eyes grazing to the present gripped firmly in his other hand.

  "I'm Father Preston. Welcome to Mason and to our wonderful church. I know Father Benson quite well. Do you go to church at St. Paul's?"

  "Yes. I just saw Father Benson today. My dad also volunteers a lot, especially since he retired."

  Geez, where did that useless piece of information come from? He didn’t want to make small talk. He wanted to get rid of this present.

  "What's your father's name? Duncan…that sounds familiar," Father Preston asked, his brows pleating in concentration.

  "Gregory. He worked for the fire department in Mulberry for many years. He's always been active in the church."

  Small sparks of heat ignited, the gift suddenly burning a hole in his hand. Enough with the small talk. And his own damn fault for starting it. Yet, polite manners stopped him from any kind of rude behavior.

  "Ah, yes, Gregory Duncan. Wonderful man, your father. I saw him earlier today, actually. He looked very happy, like retirement is treating him well."

  "Retirement has treated him well. I hate to take much more of your time, Father. I just have a quick question. Maybe a strange one, at that. This present," Elliot said, lifting it slightly, "do you know where it came from?"

  Father Preston looked at the gift, his eyes transfixed. "I do know where it came from."

  For the first time that day, the brightest smile emerged. Finally making some headway. "That's great to hear. Who donated it to the church? I don't know how it landed on my doorstep, but I'm here to correct that mistake and return it."

  I can already imagine how that happened. Flexing his hand several times, a silent sigh blew away. His dad meant the best with his antics. Probably brought the gift home, unwittingly left it on the porch, and then let Elliot think it was for him since he had the nerve to open the damn gift. Why did he open it?

  "Oh, Chief Duncan, I can't just give out one my parishioner's information. The presents are donated anonymously for a reason. It looks like you opened it. What was inside that you just can't accept?" Father Preston's smile never wavered as he spoke.

  Was Father Preston playing him like his father had? Did everyone have it in for him this holiday season? What was so wrong with returning a gift that should go to a family who could actually use it?

  "You misunderstood me. I'm sure there are a lot more families who could use this."

  The gift hung in the air, waiting patiently for Father Preston to grab it, who just stared at him with a smile.

  "We can sometimes never understand why things happen the way they do. Enjoy its contents. Merry Christmas, Chief."

  "No, no, Father Preston, I insist. Take it, please." His hand would fall off before he dropped it and walked away.

  "Have a blessed day, Chief Duncan." Father Preston snapped his fingers. "Oh, you know your father was supposed to drop off a donation box to the local diner, Diana's Diner, for me. He offered to do it. Such a thoughtful gesture. Tara, the owner, she's kind enough to let people donate things to the church at the diner. He forgot to grab it before he left. Plus, they have excellent coffee. Would you be so kind to do it for me?"

  How could he deny a priest's request? And his dad's memory. Should he be making a doctor appointment for him? His forgetfulness was increasing like the heat did in his house when the air conditioner broke down last summer.

  "I'd be more than happy to do that for you. And thank you for your time, Father." Elliot offered a smile as Father Preston beamed with a grateful one and walked away to grab the donation box.

  Elliot left the building with the blasted gift in one hand and the donation box in the other. Perhaps his problem was solved.

  Donation box in one hand.

  Gift in the other.

  Put one inside the other.

  Could he upset a priest? No doubt, Father Preston would notice and know exactly who put the gift in the box. Or did he just pass the gift off to someone else? Mulberry might be the better choice. Talk about a sin, upsetting a priest.

  As he drove through town, the gift stared him down, its penetrating gaze making his fingers tighten on the wheel. Diana's Diner sat on the edge of town. Its quaint and inviting sign that offered the best home-cooked meals in the area brought a small grin. Home-cooked meals. His dad made some great meals, well, when he didn't burn it. But the effort to try to cook like his mom always lifted his soul.

  Elliot almost grabbed the gift with the donation box. His fingers still itched to toss it in. Instead, he stepped out of the truck and slammed the door before he changed his mind.

  He stepped inside, the tiny bell hanging above the door ringing with happy vigor. A sweet voice floated from the kitchen. "Have a seat anywhere. I'll be right out."

  Only one other customer, a straggly looking guy, occupied the space within the diner, sitting on the right side. That made the decision to sit on the left rather easy, facing the stranger with careful eyes. Maybe it was the cop in him, or maybe it was the way the guy looked dirty, unkempt, or just the fact he didn't know many people in this town. His eyes never strayed from the guy or the front door.

  Elliot slid into a booth, set the box on the floor near his feet, and grabbed the menu stacked nicely in the rack pushed against the wall. He wasn't that hungry, but perhaps something would nab his attention. And coffee did sound good. Anything to settle the rattled nerves consuming his body.

  Looking intently at the menu, his hand jerked as the same voice from earlier swirled around. This time, hearing the voice so close, it slid over him like a sweet caress. The smooth tone, the softness as each word left her mouth did something to Elliot that hadn't happened in, well, forever.

  Another small strike to the lock on his heart.

  Glancing up, his nerves rattled a little more. The shiny leather of the booth kept him anchored even as his body threatened to melt into a puddle of goo.

  Pure beauty.

  Strange, really, that such loveliness could be said as she wore a white shirt, a small red stain near the collar and a maroon apron tied around her waist that had seen better days. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, long bangs covering her forehead that almost covered her eyes. It appeared she tried to curl them, but the longevity of the day had them flattening, taking normal residence over her bright brown eyes. Her simple, yet sweet smile lit up the room and a part of him as well.

  "Did you decide what you want?" she asked again.

  "Oh, sorry, I'm still looking. I hear the coffee's great." He turned away. The donation box. A great distraction to clear the embarrassment for gawking. "Father Preston asked me to drop this off. Where would you like me to put it?"

  She glanced at the box, another gorgeous smile enriching her beauty. "I'll take it. He's always on top of things. The other box is almost full. It's so nice that everyone in town has such a generous heart, especially around the holidays."

  His fingers grazed hers as she accepted the box. Tiny fireworks exploded. He had no words to her comment about the holidays. He didn't want to pretend that he liked the holidays as he did with everyone else. The light in her eyes when she spoke would probably dim if he put on an act.

  A small frown appeared as she glanced at her hand. "Would you like a cup of coffee while you look over the menu?"

  What was with the frown? Did she feel what he felt and not like it? Or was it his lack of response to her holiday comment? Maybe he should've pretended. The joy in her eyes and smile had dimme
d anyway.

  Lynn.

  Just a quick peek at her nametag. Clearly, she was uncomfortable. No need to increase that by gawking even more.

  "I'd love a cup, Lynn."

  "I'll be right back."

  ***

  Lynn quickly turned around, almost tripping. Don't act like an idiot. Just because a strange tingling sensation zapped her fingers when he touched her didn't mean anything. This was a test to see how horrible the day could proceed. How fast could she get the coffee and him out of the door, yet be polite and make a great tip?

  Because any further tingles of delight would just make her clumsier. And if he used her name again, she just might melt into the floor like metal meeting fire. The way it rolled off his tongue like a sweet stroke across her body produced a shiver as she walked around the counter. One word and he made her into a blubbering mess.

  And his penetrating stare. How bad did she truly look? A busy morning to a crazy lunch hour with several disasters. She never got this dirty. Of course, today, when a handsome man like that walks in, she has to look like she lost a paint war. That could be the only reasonable explanation why he didn't look away. The longer he stared, the temptation had swarmed like a raging tornado to brush her hair into a beautiful hairstyle, slap some makeup on, and even throw on a gorgeous dress. His eyes just had a way of sliding over her in a delicate, delicious manner.

  She grabbed the coffeepot from the back counter, rolling her eyes as Jeremy whispered through the kitchen window, "He's hot. You look a little flustered. Give him another sweet smile and you'll make a helluva tip, darling. The way he's looking at you right now says so."

  "Shh, Jeremy. That's just asking for trouble," Lynn whispered back.

  "Well, the tip would be nice. But he's also looking at you like a man does when he really wants something for Christmas. Plus, I see a badge sticking out from under his coat. He's a lawman. How bad of a guy can he be?"

  "That doesn't mean anything."