Winter Wake

by Rick Hautala

  The memory of the panic John had dreaded earlier was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. He tried to tear his gaze away from the girl but couldn’t. As he glanced at the burning candle in his hands, feeling the warmth on his face, it suddenly went cold. The flame burned with a deep blue.

  Beneath the swelling chorus of voices, John could still hear a faint ripple of laughter — cold and icy … like the darkness he had dreaded earlier only worse because it wasn’t just cold — it was cruel.

  With all the candles burning brightly, the church was almost as bright as it had been with the ceiling lights on, but this light had a peculiar flickering glow that looked somehow unnatural. When Julia poked him in the ribs, he turned to her.

  “You okay?” she whispered, her brow creased with concern as they looked at each other.

  Tight-lipped, John nodded. “Yeah —”

  “What did your father want?”

  “Nothing.”

  He stopped himself from mentioning his father’s sudden confused panic, and glancing at him now, he appeared to be perfectly fine, singing along out of tune with the carol.

  “Then sing with us,” Julia said, holding her hymnal so he could see the page. “Come on.”

  John quickly riffled through his hymnal until he found the correct page, but all the while he was positive he could still hear faint traces of laughter, nibbling at the edge of his awareness. Once he found the carol, he scanned the lines and found where they were, but then when he lifted his head — aware that Julia was still watching him — his throat closed off with a strangled gag.

  The girl wasn’t there anymore.

  John looked at his father to see if he had noticed or reacted, but Frank was singing along, oblivious to his confusion. John turned and looked down the aisle to see if the girl —

  It couldn’t possibly be who I thought it was!

  — was leaving, but she was nowhere in sight. There wasn’t a gap in the crowded pew where she had been. John saw the wide back of a man in a dark blue sports coat where, seconds before, the girl with black hair and wearing a shaggy, gray sweater had been.

  Am I seeing things?

  A chill rushed up his back. The tips of his fingers tingled with pins and needles, and he was taking short, gasping breaths.

  How could she vanish like that?

  Leaning close to his father’s ear, he whispered, “Did you remember who you wanted to tell me about?”

  Frank jerked away from him and glared at him with anger.

  “What — ? Who?” he whispered harshly. “Don’t go botherin’ me during the service.”

  John straightened up, thoroughly confused by his father’s earlier reaction.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Julia whispered, nudging him in the side and leaning close. “You look pale.”

  “I’m fine — It’s the candlelight,” John said, forcing his voice to stay light. He shook his head vigorously from side to side.

  Julia turned back to her own hymnal, glanced at Bri beside her, and continued singing. John tried to push aside the thoughts that kept rushing in on him. He tried to convince himself that the girl in the gray sweater had been there all along. He simply hadn’t noticed her. And finally, once the candles had been lit, she had left, either to go downstairs to the bathroom or to go home.

  She’ll be back, he told himself, but even if she didn’t, she had been there. That was her father in the dark blue sports coat.

  But what the hell was my father doing? he thought, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

  Why is he acting so weird ... and then pretending he hadn’t said anything?

  His words echoed in John’s mind …”That’s what I was going to tell yah … I was tryin’ to remember. That’s … I saw before ... at the house.”

  The thin laughter had been ... must have been — like the momentary blue glow of his candle — his imagination playing tricks on him. Just because, from behind, the girl had reminded him of Abby Snow … that was nothing more than coincidence. His earlier fears, remembering what had happened to him in church on that Christmas Eve when he was ten years old, had hijacked his imagination and made him think she looked like Abby … because he knew that Abby Snow, had been dead for twenty years, so she couldn’t be here — or anywhere — tonight.

  III

  The too-good-to-hope-for snow Julia had wished for started falling during the church service. As people filtered out into the night, thick flakes sifted down, tumbling like flat coins in the glare of the streetlights. Lit from the inside, the stained-glass windows of the church stained the piled-high snow banks with soft reds, blues, and yellows. The night was filled with holiday greetings, and even John, who was still feeling disoriented from his panic, tried to get into the holiday spirit.

  “Should’ve put on some snowies,” Frank said, chuckling as John struggled to push his wheelchair down the snow-slick walkway. Julia and Bri followed close behind.

  “I think this is wicked neat,” Bri said.

  “‘Wicked?’” Julia said, smiling that she had adopted an expression she had only heard down at the dock.

  Bri bent down, scooped up a handful of snow, made a small snowball, and tossed it at John’s back.

  He turned and said, “I’ll get you for that. Or maybe Santa will leave coal in your stocking.” As he looked back at her over his shoulder, a shadow under one of the yew bushes beside the church deepened and shifted, but he pretended not to notice.

  “Well …” Bri said, skipping close to him, “I happen to know that Santa got you nothing but neckties this year.”

  “Not again,” John wailed dramatically.

  They crossed the street to their car, and while Julia swung open the back door, John helped his father get into the front seat. He collapsed the wheelchair and went to put it into the back of the station wagon, but as he was raising the hatch, a sharp peel of shrill laughter filled the night, setting his nerves of edge. His mind went blank with fright. Looking at the church, with no idea what he expected to see — maybe the girl he had been watching — he was relieved when he saw two boys, racing across the church parking lot, throwing fistfuls of snow at each other. A few paces behind, a balding man and an overweight dark-haired woman were walking. The man shouted, “Aaron! ... Jesse! You guys stop that right now!”

  Smiling and shaking his head with relief, John got into the car and drove back to the house, grateful — at least — that church was over.

  “Anyone feel like taking a peek under the tree?” Bri said when they burst into the kitchen, stamping their feet on the kitchen rug to knock off the snow. Julia walked over to the stove and asked if anyone wanted coffee or hot chocolate.

  “Let’s have some cocoa, and then we can each open a present,” Bri said, jumping up and down excitedly. It was nice to see her acting like a kid, Julia thought.

  “Sounds good to me,” John said.

  On his way into the house, he had scooped up a small handful of snow. After he swung the door shut behind him, he turned and, shouting “Here’s yours,” threw it at Bri.

  Bri ducked to the side, but not fast enough. The snowball caught her on the side of the face and splattered with a wet plop.

  Julia scowled at them.

  “If you two children want to play, would you please go outside?”

  “I’ll wipe it up,” John said, reaching for some paper towels. “You okay?” he asked Bri, who smiled and nodded.

  While Julia heated the milk for cocoa and Bri went upstairs to put on her nightgown and robe, John and Frank went into the living room. John plugged in the tree lights and then sat down on the couch, trying to put the girl he had seen in church out of his mind.

  Bri came tromping down the stairs, her arms loaded with the presents she had wrapped for her parents and grandfather. She went over to the tree and added them to the gifts Julia and John had spread out before they left for church. They had waited until Bri and Frank were in the car because Julia said she wanted to mainta
in a bit of the illusion of Santa Claus. Frank had gone to his bedroom for a moment and returned with three envelopes, one with each of their names on it.

  “Didn’t have much chance to get out shoppin’,” he said by way of excuse as he handed them to Bri, who put them under the tree.

  “Here we go,” Julia said, entering the living room with a tray and four steaming mugs of cocoa. She placed the tray down on the coffee table and plunked herself down beside John on the couch.

  “So … who goes first?” Bri asked. She was kneeling in front of the tree, her hands on her knees, looking anxiously from one person to another. “Granddad, why don’t you take a peek inside of … this?” She got up and handed him a small rectangular box, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as she did.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything,” Frank said, looking slightly embarrassed as he fumbled with the ribbons and paper until he exposed a box. When he opened the lid, his face broke out into a wide smile.

  “Well I’ll be a son of a gun,” he said, holding up a pair of fleece-lined slippers. “I was needin’ a new pair.” He put them back into the box and placed the box on the table beside his wheelchair.

  John and Julia were sitting back, smiling as they sipped cocoa and watched. It struck Julia as charming that, even though Bri was already thirteen and growing up right under their noses, Christmas still had enough magic to turn her into a little girl.

  Maybe, she thought, that’s the magic of Christmas — that even though you’re much too old to play with toys, you can act like a kid at least once a year.

  “Bri,” Julia said, “why don’t you check out that green box over there?”

  “You mean the one that says ‘From Santa?’”

  Julia nodded.

  Bri chuckled as she reached for the box. Before she opened it, though, she held it up and gave it a gentle shake.

  “Sounds like something from Cherry Webb,” she said, smirking. “I hope it’s a green something.”

  “Open it and see,” Julia said, smiling. “Hold it. Before you do ...”

  She got up and went into the kitchen, returning a second later with her camera. Squinting in to the viewfinder, she took aim and nodded. “Okay — go to it.”

  Bri ripped open the paper and then burst into a grin when she saw that it was, indeed, the green blouse she had wanted. The room filled with a sudden burst of light as Julia snapped a picture. Bri blinked in a daze and, holding the top up against herself, said, “Geeze, I’m not sure it’s worth getting blinded for. Thanks, Mom and Dad.”

  “We didn’t get that for you. Santa did,” Julia said, moving so she could get a different angle for another shot.

  Laughing, Bri leaned toward the fireplace and, looking up the flue, shouted, “Thank you, fat man.”

  Before she pulled back, the room again filled with the flash of Julia’s camera.

  “While you’re at it,” Frank said gruffly, “you might’s well hand out them envelopes I gave yah. No sense waitin’ till tomorrow.”

  Bri gave her mother and father a quick glance to see if she had their approval as well, then gave one each to her mother and father, keeping the one with her name scrawled on the front. The handwriting was done in thin pencil lines and that were so faint they looked like a tattered spider web.

  “Go on … Open ‘em,” Frank commanded when all three of them sat there stunned, looking at the envelopes.

  Bri was first. She slid her finger in under the flap and tore it along the top. Inside, was a money card — the kind with the little oval in the center so you could see the president’s face on the bill peering out. Bri’s smile widened when she opened the card and saw that it wasn’t a president after all. It was Benjamin Franklin, smiling up at her. Written on the outside was: “To Bri — with love and Merry Christmas — Granddad.”

  “Oh, Granddad,” she said. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck so hard she almost pulled him out of his wheelchair.

  Meanwhile, Julia and John had opened their envelopes and found that they had one-hundred-dollar bills inside theirs. Both of them expressed their surprise, but in spite of himself, John couldn’t help thinking, You never used to be this generous … Why now?

  “Thank you so much, Frank,” Julia said, coming over to his wheelchair and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I agree with Bri — you didn’t have to.”

  “Ahh,” Frank said, waving her away with his hand, “it’s the least I could do. I ain’t ever gonna get out to spend it.”

  “You got out enough to get to the bank and get crisp new bills and gift cards,” John said, eyeing his father slyly. He chastised himself for having such ungracious thoughts.

  To prevent having to respond, Frank picked up his cup of cocoa and took a drink.

  “That just leaves the two of you guys,” Bri said, reaching under the tree. She turned with a present in each hand and held them out to her mother and father. “Now take your time opening them. Don’t throw the paper all over the place in your excitement. “

  Both Julia and John snickered as Julia came back to the couch and sat down beside them.

  “You go first,” she said, nodding to John.

  “Oh, no. Ladies first,” John replied.

  Shrugging, Julia looked at the nametag: “To Julia — Love John,” it read. She slipped her fingers in under the paper and peeled it back. Smiling, she pulled out the box of White Shoulders perfume.

  “My favorite,” she said as she opened the box and, unscrewing the cover, brought the small bottle up to her nose and sniffed. Her eyes flickered as the fragrance filled her nose.

  “Quick. Where’s the camera?” Bri shouted. She saw it on the coffee table and grabbed it, aimed, and shot while Julia, with a wide, silly grin, held the perfume bottle up close to her cheek.

  “One left to go. Are your sure you’ve been a good boy this year?” Bri asked, turning to her stepfather.

  John smiled as he looked at the present in his hand. It was small and light. Actually, it was so light he thought it might be empty. Inspecting the nametag, he read out loud, “To John … from a secret admirer.”

  Julia looked at him with upraised eyebrows, as if to say, It’s not from me. She was also thinking that, since she gave Bri all of her extra wrapping paper, she would have recognized if it was from her.

  John sipped his cocoa and then, sitting back, began unwrapping the gift slowly. The tabs of Scotch tape pulled away easily, exposing a plain white box. When he flipped open the cover, all he saw inside was a wad of crumpled-up tissue paper. After a few seconds pawing through the tissue paper, he looked up, first at Julia, then at Bri.

  “Is this a joke?” he asked.

  His hand was still fishing around inside the box, but by now he knew it was empty. He pulled all the tissue paper out and looked through it, but nothing fell out.

  “No. Not at all,” Julia said.

  “It’s empty … unless someone thinks a box of tissue paper is a gift. Bri? Did you do this?”

  Bri shook her head, and from her furrowed brow, John was convinced her denial was genuine.

  Shrugging, he set the box beside him on the couch.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was from someone at the office or something, and the store forgot to put the gift in before they wrapped it.”

  “That’s strange,” Julia said. “Bri — grab something else, will you?”

  While Bri busied herself inspecting the remaining presents under the tree, John dropped the empty box onto the floor and started balling up the tissue paper. When he picked up the wrapping paper from his lap, he noticed some marks on the underside of the paper. At first he only saw two words:

  WHAT YOU

  His heartbeat sounded suddenly loud in his ears as he unfolded the paper the rest of the way. Shielding it from Julia’s view, he looked at the message scrawled in pencil on the inside.

  Same heavy-handed printing as before ... same message ... with one more word added.

/>   I WON’T FORGET WHAT YOU DID TO ME!

  He was stunned.

  This wasn’t what he had been expecting.

  ME?

  John’s throat made an involuntary click as he gasped for breath.

  He had been expecting more messages, more words, and he thought he was ready to deal with them. He had been so positive the last word would be a name.

  But this … this … with the last word — ME underlined so heavily the pencil had almost torn right through the paper. ...

  The last word should have been ABBY!

  The rapid whooshing of his heartbeat in his ears was so loud it sounded like the roar of the ocean. Drops of cold sweat broke out across his forehead. His armpits were clammy, and his hands trembled as he rolled the wrapping paper up into a tight ball and squeezed it, making sure none of the writing showed.

  “Hey! Did you fall asleep or something?” Bri asked. She jabbed him with a brightly wrapped box. “This one’s from me, so I know there’s something in it.”

  Her voice came to him like she was at the end of a long tunnel. Turning to her, he felt curiously dissociated from his body. His hand reached out mechanically, as though someone else controlled it. He said something, but his voice was distant and flat.

  “Thanks … You didn’t have to,” he heard himself say as his hand closed on the package. The sudden weight of it as Bri let go caught him by surprise, and he almost dropped it.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about what was written on the inside of that wrapping paper.

  His mind was roaring with questions …

  Who is writing these messages?

  How did they get them to me? … the note in my car... and now one in a package under the Christmas tree?

  And why?

  Why is ... whoever … doing this to me?