Matchsticks and Candy Canes

by C. E. Wilson

  Jeremy cocked a brow. “So what did you want?”

  “What should I...” His eyes drifted across to the street and then back to his uncle in one smooth motion, “… what should I do if there are any samples left over?”

  “Toss em’,” Jeremy said. “They’ll be stale by tomorrow and I can’t give out stale samples.”

  Carter nodded once before Jeremy stepped back into the shop. Since the cashier wasn’t there yet, the front of the store was empty much like the street in front of him. The wind must be keeping people at home today, so with the streets clear, he could finally get a closer look at the young woman who sold matchsticks across the street. She looked nervous for some reason and refused to meet his gaze.

  Sucking in a nervous breath, he glanced around the street once more. A mother and her child were coming up the hill, but they still had a ways to go. Once again, Carter tried to catch the girl’s attention, licking his chapped lips and finally calling out across the street.

  “Cold out today, isn’t it?” Her head remained lowered. “H-hey,” he tried, losing some of his confidence. “I said, it’s a cold one, isn’t it?”

  The elf froze in place for a moment as if trying to decide whether to run away or answer him. Answer won out. Shyly, she turned to face him, acknowledging that he was heard, but not wanting to seem like she was being disrespectful.

  “Y-yes. It is a bit nippy.” Her voice quivered from the cold and she averted her gaze, but his eyes didn’t leave her.

  Instead, he dipped his head further down. Her voice was slight, and he could hear her teeth chattering from across the street. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so proud of his thick coat and warm scarf with matching hat.

  In turn, Brynne decided to use the unique opportunity to try out her tired sales pitch. After all, she didn’t know when another person would pay such close attention to her. “Could I possibly interest you in buying a box of matches? You’ll certainly need to light a fire on a night like tonight.” She picked up one of her precious matchbooks and held it out for his inspection. “Feels like snow in the air,” she added, stifling her chattering teeth.

  Carter was surprised at how well her voice carried across the way. Ducking down for only a moment, he passed out a sample of gingerbread roll to a girl who accepted happily before he turned his attention back to the elf.

  “Matches?” he asked, tilting his head. “No, actually. We have plenty in the shop and—”

  “Oh.” She lowered her head a bit. “Don’t worry about it. Sorry to bother you, sir—”

  “W-wait, wait,” Carter said, stepping away from the table. “I didn’t say no…” His mind wandered as to how he could say that he was looking to spark a conversation with her rather than a sales pitch. He kept his distance on his side of the street as she held out one of the matchbooks.

  “They’re cheap,” she offered, thinking a sale was possible. “One dollar will get you twenty-four matches. One dollar and fifty cents will get you forty-eight. It’s a good deal.”

  Carter’s hazel eyes trailed to the sky. “It is a good deal… and it does feel like snow.”

  “Sure does. The air is chilly this time of year and you certainly want to be prepared.”

  A careful smile crossed his features. “What can I say? You talked me into it.”

  “Great!”

  Carter felt around in his pocket and realized with horror that it was empty. “Ugh, I don’t have any money.” Again, she looked crestfallen and her small shoulders drooped in defeat. “Hey,” he blurted, touching one of the gingerbread rolls. “How would you like to try one of my uncle’s rolls instead? I can buy a matchbook tomorrow. How about a trade until then?” he asked hopefully. “Twenty four matches for a gingerbread roll sample and maybe a croissant?” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the single buttery, flaky pastry wrapped in a paper napkin.

  Brynne immediately became wary, but unable to hide the hungry gleam in her eyes.

  “I don’t know.” She eyed up the matchbooks left on her cart – over twenty, all unsold and practically frozen together. She turned over the one in her hands, wrestling with herself over the simple question.

  “I promise I’ll have your money tomorrow,” Carter said, hoping to reel her in even more. “We can work something else out—”

  “The trade is fine. For now,” she finally blurted. “Just this once, though.” Brynne jumped to her feet and brushed off the matchbox, presenting it clean and in top shape. She waited for a middle-aged couple to cross the street before she scampered across and slowed to a halt at the boy’s feet, suddenly painfully aware she only came up to his shin. Swallowing her fear in favor of hunger, she thrust the matchbox up towards him.

  “H-here,” she announced.

  Carter’s eyes widened. Elves were short, but he hadn’t realized how short until she jogged up to him. For a moment he worried about Jeremy coming out of the baking room, or the cashier walking up the street to make fun of him for speaking with an elf, but decided to risk it.

  He glanced around and then fell to one knee, recognizing the fact that he had broken one more unspoken rule when dealing with elves – don’t look at their eyes. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, though, instead looking at the zipper on his coat.

  Carter couldn’t understand how this young woman was supposed to be a witch. If anything, she was more like an angel.

  His eyes drifted over to the faded cap tightly secured around her ears, supposing that pointed ears were hidden under the wool.

  “Thanks,” he said, keeping his voice soft. He slowly reached out for the matchbox, but the girl pulled away as his fingers drew close, practically dropping the matchbox into his palm. There was no punishment. There was no magic. She’s not a witch.

  “There you are,” she said quickly, stumbling back a few inches.

  Carter frowned, wondering how he could prolong the moment as he curled his fingers around the book.

  “You’ll have to hold out your hand again,” he said awkwardly.

  The girl kept her head lowered but spread out her two hands to accept his offering. Swallowing hard, he passed the gingerbread sample first since it was smaller. Since the croissant was full sized, her lack of eye contact was proving to be a problem.

  “You’re going to have to look to take them,” he said as gently as he could.

  Her hands finally crept forward just as Carter noticed a familiar silhouette coming up the street. And though Carter didn’t think the young elf was a problem, his uncle’s cashier would.

  He tried to speed up the process. “Here you go,” he whispered. “Take it and go back to your cart.”

  Though his voice was kind, an order was an order, and Brynne wasn’t one to argue with a human. She clamped her hands around the hefty bread and skittered back across the street over to her cart. She immediately stuffed the croissant under her coat as if someone might try to steal it from her. The gingerbread roll captivated her, like an enchantress that had enthralled her nose, and with one last harried glance at the boy across the street, she bit into it, convincing herself that this one wouldn’t save as well. She moaned quietly in happiness as the flavors melted over her tongue. The roll was warm and sweet like brown sugar and was gone far too quickly, leaving her aching stomach wanting more, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, she had a warm treat to get her through the day. She snuck small bites of the croissant through the bottom of her coat – just enough to keep the dizziness of hunger at bay. She felt a little stronger, less fatigued already, but she couldn’t help wondering what she was going to tell her father when she came home with one less matchbox and no extra money. The idea of her father’s red face forced Brynne to stop nibbling on the croissant, shaming herself for being greedy.

  The stranger’s kind offering could easily feed her entire family and while she was pleased to know her brother and sister would eat well tonight, she still didn’t feel at ease. How would her father react?

  “What are you doing outside
, Holly Berry?” a loud voice called from down the street, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Handing out samples,” Carter said, holding up a small piece of gingerbread towards him. “Take one. Take two. Uncle Jeremy’s going to throw away what I don’t hand out.”

  Jeremy’s evening cashier took several pieces and stuffed them into his mouth with a grin and smacked his lips. Marvin was a big guy like his uncle, but his face was not always friendly. His head was shaved and his deep blue eyes darted around before they fell on the elf across the street.

  “Like clockwork,” he glowered at the elf. “Can you believe that?” he grumbled. “Loitering in front of the shop. No respect.” He reached for a broom. “Get outta here, Santa’s Reject!”

  “No, stop!” Carter cried, grabbing the broom before he could advance.

  Marvin looked down with an incredulous expression. “What’s up with you? Gettin’ caught up in the Christmas spirit?”

  “No.”

  Marvin jerked the broom away. “What’s the deal? She charm you, or somethin’? I’ve heard about that, you know. Santa’s Rejects messin’ with our minds and what have you.”

  “That’s not it, either.”

  “Then what is it, Holly Berry?”

  “She’s not hurting anyone. She’s across the street, isn’t she?” He tried to play it off. “If anything, it’s good she’s there. People will cross the street to avoid her, and what’s across the street?”

  Marvin smiled, lowering the broom. “Sweet Mix,” he said, setting the instrument against the wall. “You know, sometimes you’re too smart for your own good, Holly Berry. You’ll be out of this ice ball in no time.” He ruffled Carter’s hair despite being only a year older than him. “Make sure that little witch doesn’t try to put a spell on you.” He winked one of his blue eyes before sauntering into the shop, shouting something at Jeremy and heading to the back to hang his coat.

  Carter watched him with worried eyes until he was completely out of sight before he turned back to the elf, wondering how much she’d heard.

  “Sorry about him,” he called over. “Please don’t go. I promise he won’t come after you with a broom again.” His eyes grew worried as he saw the fear on her features even from a distance. He glanced over his shoulder. “How was the bread?” he asked curiously.

  “Good,” Brynne answered shyly, cowering behind her cart like a shield. The boy made a face like he couldn’t hear her, so she cupped her hands around her mouth. “It was good! I didn’t know it could taste even better than it smells.”

  The corner of his mouth crooked upward. “I’m glad.”

  She suddenly blushed and looked down, embarrassed at herself for even trying to have a conversation with the kind boy. Despite her better instincts, hope began to root in her heart. The way he was looking at her, could it possibly be more than pity? Not hatred or disgust, but perhaps some sort of gentle curiosity?

  A few more people passed, and the boy looked away, ending their timid conversation while he handed out more samples. The way he smiled at people and they smiled back, it all looked too easy. Brynne couldn’t even being to think about what it would be like for people to actually want to interact with her.

  Suddenly acting on a whim and wanting his kind eyes on her, she called out. “Thank you!”

  Carter’s eyes widened in surprise when her voice called out to him again.

  “Thanks for trading.”

  For the umpteenth time, he glanced over his shoulder. Marvin was ringing up a large family for the evening. Loaves of bread and plenty of fresh biscuits that would be stale by the next morning.

  He turned back to the elf, knowing Marvin was preoccupied. “You’re welcome,” he said, smiling nervously. “And I promise I’ll have your money tomorrow.” He squinted his eyes slightly, realizing that a large part of her croissant still remained, peeking out from the bottom of her tattered jacket. “Didn’t you like it?” he asked. “I can get you something else—”

  “N-no,” the elf girl stammered. “It’s not that. I need to show my father I didn’t give away a book of matches for nothing. I’m hoping the croissant will satisfy him until tomorrow.” Her eyes flickered sadly for a moment and she quickly looked away. He didn’t want to hear that. He couldn’t possibly be interested.

  “You won’t get in trouble, will you?” he asked cautiously. “You can keep the matchbook if—”

  “He’ll be even more suspicious if I come home with bread and nothing sold,” she stammered. “It’s okay. Thank you again.” She shuffled nervously in her old boots across the slushy sidewalk.

  Carter frowned. What was going on at the girl’s home for her to look so frightened suddenly? Was it him? Or was it... he didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t hide his worried expression as he looked at her. Her jacket was a mess and despite her being an elf he wondered how she kept warm. Her fingers were exposed to the chilly air and her scarf looked like nothing more than a ripped piece of fabric from a larger article of clothing.

  “Wait there,” he said suddenly before ducking back into the shop. Once inside, he noticed Marvin helping another man pick out a fresh loaf of olive oil bread and, not wasting a moment, he quickly took two quarters from the tip jar, grabbed another croissant and ran back outside.

  “Here,” he said, jogging across the street and reaching for her hand. She squeaked, but didn’t pull away. Maybe she couldn’t. Regardless, he dropped the two quarters into her palm. “Here’s half of what I owe,” he whispered before holding up a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ll replace it tomorrow. And here.” He handed her half of the croissant. “This is for you.”

  “I shouldn’t—”

  “Just for you,” he emphasized.

  He smiled only briefly before he walked back across the street, acting as though nothing had happened. As though he hadn’t taken a huge leap of faith by touching her. Luckily, no one saw. He handed out a free gingerbread roll to the next passerby and stole a curious glance at the girl across the street, wondering if he had crossed a line, and was glad to see her eying up the croissant with a look of wonder on her face. She took a large bite and a tentative smile grew on her face. Within a minute, the croissant had disappeared. She looked across the street and for a brief moment met his eyes.

  “Thank you,” she breathed with a soft voice that pooled like mist in the winter air. He smiled back at her.

  Perhaps this winter would bring something better than more snow and sweets.

  Chapter Four

  Carter curiously observed the elf as he handed out the last samples for the day. She was cute, but an elf. How old was she? She probably wasn’t much younger than him.

  And she was radiant.

  Her smile wasn’t huge, but there was most assuredly a flicker of happiness across her features he’d never seen before. He couldn’t help wondering how often people were kind to her. Uncle Jeremy was like a walking Santa Claus but even he called the elf a witch. Marvin was brash and assertive, but he had a kind heart underneath. And yet, he had almost tried to chase her away with a broom. It didn’t make sense.

  “Time’s up, Carter.”

  Uncle Jeremy stood in the wide doorway of Sweet Mix with a serious expression.

  “I don’t mind—”

  “I said an hour and I gave you one. You need to head back home.”

  “I could stay another hour,” Carter stammered, trying not to look across the street. How long was she planning to stay in the cold? Of course she probably didn’t go to school. “It’s close to Christmas break and I don’t have any homework this close to vacation.”

  “Don’t make me call your mother,” Uncle Jeremy said. He looked stoic for a moment and then his features softened. “If it means that much to you, you can stop back the same time tomorrow. Marvin has a make-up final and can’t make it in till five. Would that be good enough?”

  Carter didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but it was going to be near impossible to speak to the elf from insid
e the shop. She would never come in, would she? He tried to smile up at his uncle. “I’ll be here after school.” It was worth a shot.

  “Good,” Jeremy said, growing warm. “Clean this all up and head back to the house.” He looked up at the sky. “It looks like it’s going get nasty in a little while. Can’t have a young guy like you out in all this snow and cold. You’ll get sick as a dog.” He clapped his nephew heavily on the back before returning to the shop and immediately launching into a heated argument with Marvin over the doughnut special for the next morning.

  Carter turned his attention back towards the elf. “I have to go,” he said, unsure as to why he felt the need to explain himself. “I’ll be back tomorrow. You can come into the shop while I’m working if you want to.”

  “N-No!” the girl stammered, looking aghast.

  It was a dangerous offer, but Carter couldn’t help himself. “If you want a breath of warm air,” he tried.

  “I can’t go in there. No.”

  The boy frowned faintly. “It wouldn’t have to be for long—”

  “No, I can’t,” she said, her small voice suddenly firm. She turned her gaze away, slipping her hands into the meager warmth of her too-short sleeves. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  Carter’s frown grew deeper. He could understand why she was nervous about coming inside, but the expression on the elf’s face bordered on fear. He tilted his head, realizing he had been rejected and started to fold up the table.

  “I figured I’d ask,” he said, shrugging as snowflakes started to pepper the evening sky and cling to his scarf. He looked up. “Heh, maybe we’ll have a snow day tomorrow.”

  “Snow day?” Brynne couldn’t help asking.

  “Don’t you know?”

  “Are you talking about a day when it snows?”

  “It’s more than that. An official snow day is when there’s so much snow that we can’t go to school.” He shrugged and tucked the large table under his arm then lifted the empty basket which had been filled to the brim with fresh roll samples just an hour ago. He turned to the elf with a weary expression. “Even this close to the holidays, I’d welcome a snow day.”