If the Fates Allow

by Annie Harper

  “Him?” Mr. Wilson said. “Are you—”

  “Going to cut off your ear if you don’t look straight ahead.” Tony caught Wilson’s reflection in the mirror. “Which I’m not. Straight.” He grinned, looked at the book Karina had given him and continued trimming. “Says who?” he asked Karina. “One hundred years is an awfully long time.”

  “Says me. I should know,” she said. “I… have a date.”

  Tony turned off the trimmer. “So, now you’re an expert?” He read the book’s synopsis. “I’ve heard of this one,” he said, still reading. “So, you’re saying if I don’t hook up with who you think I should, I’m going to be alone for a hundred years, dream up a town, and find nothing but bad fortune?”

  “You already live in Linden,” Wilson said. “How much more unlucky can you get?”

  “It’s the title, you boob. It’s a joke.” She yanked the book from Uncle Tony’s hand and told Wilson to hold on for a moment. “Move over.” She nudged Tony aside and pumped the chair up another inch or two. “There. Old woman with osteo, Uncle Tony. You’re going be so hunched you’ll have to start cutting hair from the floor.”

  Tony grunted and revved up his trimmer. He stopped before it reached Wilson’s neck. “Wait, you have a date?” He focused on his target and began to trim, wiggling his arms at the new work height. “This feels weird.”

  “You’re weird, and I do. Hailey’s taking me up to Greendale to see the zoo lights.”

  “Lumberjane?” Uncle Tony looked entirely too pleased. “Does your dad know?”

  “No,” Karina said, squaring her shoulders. “He doesn’t have a right to my love life.”

  Tony smiled, the soft fatherly smile that had encouraged her since she was a child. “No. No, he does not. And now…” Tony brushed Wilson’s neck. “Maybe you’ll leave me alone about mine.”

  “You’d be sad and miserable if I left you alone.” With a pointed tap on the book, Karina headed out, but not before hearing Wilson say, “You’re too young to live your life alone, Tony. Maybe she’s got a point.”

  * * *

  “Uncle Tony, I swear to god, is your maintenance guy ever going to fix those outside stairs?” Karina stomped the snow off her feet and unwrapped her scarf. The weather had been relentless, but Uncle Tony’s invitation to help make this year’s pasticciotti wasn’t one to pass up. It was the weekend before what promised to be a beautiful white Christmas, and Uncle Tony’s apartment smelled like chocolate pudding. “Have you bugged him about them again?” she asked, making her way into the kitchen. “Someone’s going to get—”

  She stopped in her tracks, smacked her hand to her mouth, and stifled a squeal.

  Uncle Tony had been busy. A layer of flour covered the kitchen table; a stack of pustie tins waited to be filled. More importantly, leaning against the counter by the stove, completely engulfed in a filthy, leg-wrapped-around-a-thigh kiss were none other than Uncle Tony… and Mr. Wesley Lloyd.

  Those conniving little shits.

  She cleared her throat. Wes jerked upright. Tony’s foot smacked the tile floor; his eyes were dark, his lips were swollen, and his hair was more askew than usual. Neither of them uttered a word or looked in her direction.

  “You did know I was on the way,” she said, skipping the part where she did not know this was going on. In light of the intensity of the kiss, “this” was not new.

  “We—” Uncle Tony cleared his throat. Wes showed excessive concern with the consistency of the chocolate pudding and stirred as if his life depended on it. “We did. He, um… had some chocolate on his finger, and—”

  “Stop. You’re still my uncle. Ew.” She butted her way between the two men to stir the vanilla custard and bumped Wes with her hip. He finally looked at her.

  “Hi,” he said with a grin so mischievous she’d have considered grounding him if she had the power to do so.

  “Hi? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” She took the custard off the burner and turned to Uncle Tony. “Hot pad?”

  Uncle Tony took the pan. “It’s your fault, you know.”

  “My fault?” She looked at Wes and sighed. “Come here, Boob.” He bent to her, and she wiped a smudge of vanilla custard off his forehead. “I’ve never known this task to be so messy.”

  “Has she always had a way to make you feel like you’ve broken curfew or something?” Wes asked.

  “Yes. You should have seen her butting in when I was dating her aunt.”

  “I was six. You were interrupting my time with her.”

  Tony looked at the pan in his hand as if he hadn’t realized he was holding it. “Chocolate done?”

  Wes and Uncle Tony reached into the same drawer for hot pads. Wes knew where the hot pads were in her uncle’s apartment. She couldn’t decide if she should scream or laugh. “Are you two going to tell me what in great hell is going on here, because, honestly, I feel like I’ve entered a low-grade movie set.”

  “Low-grade?” Tony said, incensed and comically dramatic. “I’ll have you know—”

  “Oh, stop it,” she said. “You could have saved a whole bunch of grief and told me!”

  Tony put the custard in the fridge, and they settled in his living room. “We thought about it,” Tony said, taking Wes’s hand, “but we wanted—” Tony looked at Wes as if he wanted him to explain.

  “We wanted to make sure this was ours… not yours,” Wes said, his eyes begging for understanding.

  “I was pretty pushy.”

  “No kidding—” Tony started, but Wes interrupted.

  “You were sweet.” He kissed the half-assed scowl from Tony’s brow. “It was probably fate anyway. We’d have met at the gym—”

  “Or the grocery getting milk and eggs?” she teased, remembering Wes’s mention of that fate for her. “So how long…”

  “The night after yoga,” Wes confessed. “I mean, I called him that night.”

  “That night? You’d already called him when we went shopping for my tree?”

  “Yes.” Wes shot a look to Uncle Tony so warm it could make flowers grow in three feet of snow. “It was the first book you gave me. All those stories about people meeting, but then having the courage to take the second step.”

  “So, it is my fault.”

  “Entirely.” Uncle Tony said. “As soon as I heard the nerves in his voice—”

  “And then, you gave me that book,” Wes said, nudging Tony with his shoulder.

  “How I got that past you at the library, Rina, I’ll never know,” Uncle Tony said. “You’re everywhere.”

  “Wait, you put a book on hold for him? Is this the new way to flirt?”

  “It’s your fault,” Wes and Tony said together. Karina stared. She didn’t know either of these men—speaking in unison, sneaking around in a secret love affair.

  “Fine. My fault. What book—or do I want to know?”

  Tony pointed to the coffee table where William Burroughs’ Naked Lunch sat.

  “Were you trying to terrify him or seduce him?”

  “That’s what I asked,” Wes said, laughing. “That damned book’s had hearings for its obscenity.”

  “It was a joke! The title made me laugh and—”

  “And I read it anyway,” Wes confessed.

  “And agreed to lunch…” Tony said, heat in his eyes. “In spite of the content.”

  “And then we got n—”

  “That’s more than enough, thank you,” Karina said, shaking her head at these two idiots.

  “So, like we said, this is your fault,” Uncle Tony said one more time. “And we couldn’t be more grateful.”

  A-Z Romance

  Karina wore the deep green sweater her mother gave her that morning. Her first thought upon opening it was that it was Hailey’s favorite color. She didn’t recall sharing that detail with her mom,
and certainly deep green suited the season, but she chose to believe it was her mother’s extra Christmas gift—a way to quietly approve of the new romance.

  At the drafty living room window, she hugged her arms close to herself. The aged pine tree in the front lawn weighed heavy with fresh snow, and the yard sparkled like glitter as the sun peeked from disappearing clouds. As calm as the scene was, nerves buzzed under Karina’s skin. Hailey would arrive any minute. She had suggested that, instead of Karina running out to meet her as she had done time and again, today Hailey would come in and meet her parents.

  “Maybe your dad will soften when he sees…” Hailey had suggested with great hope in her eyes.

  Karina wasn’t convinced, but the time for worry was over. Hailey had arrived and was walking to the door with a wreath in her hand. Before Hailey could knock, Karina opened the door and kissed her, needing to steal a measure of Hailey’s confidence for herself. “Come in. I’m a wreck.”

  “But,” Hailey said as she stepped in, “I bring you tidings of great joy!” She wiggled the simply decorated wreath, eyed a nail from a previous door hanging, and hooked it on. “Nothing to be worried about.”

  Karina kissed her again and called to the back of the house. “Mom! Dad! I’m leaving!”

  And while the introductions weren’t the warmest of the holiday season, her dad behaved like a civilized human being. He ran his finger over the deep red ribbon Hailey had added to the evergreen wreath and actually told her it was “very nice.” He watched carefully as Hailey helped Karina with her coat, and, when they stepped outside, he called Hailey’s name.

  “Yes, Mr. Neff?”

  “Um… drive careful.” He looked pointedly at Karina. “The roads are slick today.”

  Hailey smiled, the smile that she’d offered Tony and, later, Wes—one she seemed to keep pocketed to assure the people in Karina’s life that all would be well. She took Karina’s hand. “I promise.”

  For a man who had planned to skip the holiday, Wes’ apartment was decked out from foyer to living room to hallway, and, she imagined, to the kitchen and bathroom. A small, decorated tree filled the corner of his living room, and, as Wes took Karina’s coat, she stepped in for a closer look. On Uncle Tony’s tree, all the ornaments related to the barbershop; Wes’ had a hanging Santa holding a baseball glove, a reindeer on a skateboard, and an ice fishing snowman.

  “I could be insulted,” Hailey said as they gathered, wine glasses in hand.

  Wes followed Hailey’s gaze to his very artificial tree and laughed. “It was a last minute thing. We did all this last night.”

  “You didn’t have to, you know.” Karina found a Santa yogi and laughed. “Dare you to show up to class like this.”

  “Only if I get to be an elf,” Uncle Tony teased. “We knew how much you wanted a special holiday, and—”

  “Uncle Tony.” She kissed his cheek. “I have more than I ever wanted right here.”

  “Hey,” Wes said, grabbing a book from the coffee table. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this.” He handed Karina a copy of Blackbird. “I can’t find it in the library’s catalog, and since we’ve talked about books that help the LGBT community, I thought this would be a good addition. It’s funny. Talks about race and sexuality.” A drawing of a Black man sprawled across his bed decorated the corner of the cover.

  “Sure. I’ll make sure to read it too.” Seeing folded gift wrap and discarded bows near a few other books on the coffee table, she asked, “Did you guys exchange books for Christmas? How sweet!”

  “Yeah,” Tony said. “Since it’s all still new, we figured—” He flipped the book to the title page. “Look what he wrote.”

  “Tony, the book that helped me see myself. Thank you for seeing me,” she read. “You guys…”

  Wes grabbed a copy of Maurice and handed it to Hailey. “He got me this one. I read it in college, but it’s time for a re-read.” Karina knew this classic. The Edwardian tale had brought many of her friends comfort when the world told them their lives were doomed for despair and misery. She read Uncle Tony’s inscription to Wes: Because I believe in happy endings.

  Before she could say anything, Uncle Tony waved the final book—or books—in front of her: two identical copies of James and the Giant Peach with a tag in Wes’ handwriting: To Wes and Tony. From The Old Green Grasshopper. Never stop wondering.

  “See?” Wes said. “Entirely your fault.”

  After dinner, they gathered again in the living room with pasticciotti and mugs of eggnog. Wes pulled two presents from under the tree.

  “You got us presents? We didn’t bring anything.” Karina greedily grabbed the package with her name on it anyway.

  “You already brought us everything.” Wes said. “Hailey, why don’t you open yours first?”

  Hailey laughed as soon as she opened her package. “The Evil Librarian. Is this a warning?”

  “The librarian is a dude, but… also a demon,” Tony said. “I figured it might still apply to your—” He pointed at Karina. “Situation.”

  “Is that what I’m in?” Hailey asked. “A situation?”

  “Oh, honey,” Tony said, “you haven’t been around long enough to totally grasp—”

  “That’s enough,” Karina said as she opened her present. “I chose to keep you as my uncle because you’re nice to me. Don’t blow it.” Her book was Emma, the Jane Austen classic. “I know this one. She doesn’t want love but spends her time hooking everyone else up! How on-the-nose of you.”

  “Do you know how it ends?” Wes asked.

  “Well, yeah. Love was right there all the time, but—” She took Hailey’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “But not like this.”

  “Sappy…” Wes lifted a manila envelope from the mantle. He bit his lip, looked at it again as if it might change into something else, and finally handed it to Karina. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I’ve known you five weeks, and you’ve changed my life. Now open it.”

  Karina pulled a small stack of printed pages from the envelope. “Untitled.” She gasped and kept reading. “A Novel by Wesley Lloyd. Wes!” She read the first couple of sentences and flipped to the second page and the third. “Wes! You’re doing it!”

  “This is the first chapter. I have more, but they’re still a mess.”

  She couldn’t decide whether to focus on his proud smile or on his words sitting right in her hand—words he’d been avoiding writing for years and now had entrusted to her. To her.

  “I want your honest feedback,” he said. “You know good stories.”

  Karina leapt to her feet and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so happy you’ve done this. I’ll read it tonight. Call you tomorrow. Find you an agent—anything.”

  “You can find me an agent?”

  “Of course not, but honest feedback, that I can do.” She snuggled back into Hailey’s side and skimmed, flipped to the front and skimmed again. As much as she wanted to spend the evening here, she also couldn’t wait to curl up in bed with these twelve pages and read them again and again and again.

  Hailey, Wes, and Tony chatted quietly. Karina finally put the chapter down to listen and to watch the way Wes looked at Tony when he spoke, how Uncle Tony leaned his body so their shoulders touched while they sat on the floor near the tree, how Hailey’s hand on Karina’s thigh was solid and secure, and how the slight movement of her thumb said, “I’m happy to be with you.”

  It was all right here, the way she’d always wanted: a snow-covered day, packages with pretty bows, and perfectly spiked eggnog. But mostly, she’d wanted people who loved, people who believed—family.

  Conversation stalled, and Wes lifted his mug. “A toast. To telling good stories.”

  “To living them,” Karina answered. “Merry Christmas.”

  Fin

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nbsp; * * *

  About the Author: Lynn Charles’ love of writing dates to her childhood, when thoughts, dreams, frustrations, and joys poured onto the pages of journals and diaries.

  She lives in Central Ohio with her husband and adult children where a blind dog and his guardian cat rule the roost. When she’s not writing, Lynn can be found planning a trip to New York or strolling its streets daydreaming about retirement. Her novel Black Dust (2016) was named a finalist for a Foreword Reviews INDIES Book of the Year award. Her other novels include Beneath the Stars (2017) and Chef’s Table (2014).

  INTERLUDE PRESS

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