All five of the uniformed people let out a sigh of pleasure.
“He also has never been housetrained,” said Jak. “So have fun with him.”
“Housetrained?” coughed Charlotte. “That’s rich coming from Chewie the Wookie.”
Everyone chuckled quietly, though laughter wasn’t needed, just a comfortable, familial silence. Man it was good to be home. Jak wondered if he could really pull the trigger on the wildland firefighting opportunities on the horizon and leave all of this.
Charlotte was checking him out with a skeptical, mischievous eye. “I don’t know if we should trust this guy. I just spent three minutes alone with him and I’m still not convinced that’s Jak under there. What do you say we take a look under that beard?”
Jak shot her a playful, bring it on, smile.
“You’re such a skeptic,” said Tom, slowly coming out of his recliner. With a tiny dip of his head, he invited the rest of the guys to join him. “Only one way to find out.”
All five guys rushed Jack and piled on his recliner. Jak couldn’t move under the sheer weight and he expected the heavy-duty recliner to break in half.
Beckett yelled, “Shave him!”
Jak fought to free himself, but the sheer number of captors was too much. He couldn’t see much, but he thought he heard some hair clippers fire up. He shouted, “You’ll have to face Mercy’s wrath if you touch this beard!”
Before any more thoughts of razors or forced shaving could manifest, the chime of the doorbell brought them all to a standstill.
“I got it,” said Jak from the bottom of the pile.
“Yeah right,” said Charlotte, already up and running for the door. “You don’t even work here.”
Jak fought free and started after her, but Nikola caught him by the foot. Garrett rushed into second place as Jak shook off Nikola’s grip. Jak opted for the pole rather than the stairs and reached the front door within a few seconds of the other guys.
Snow blew in around the figure standing on their front mat, a tiny figure that made Jak think of Yoda. He chuckled for a moment at being called Chewbacca a minute ago.
“Come in,” said Garrett, reaching out a hand.
A tiny old woman came in, smiling eyes and a mischievous yet kind tilt to her mouth. She looked familiar, but also resembled a homeless person in her coat and scarf. Over eight years, Jak had responded to enough emergencies on the streets of Park City to recognize the look. Maybe he’d seen her somewhere back before her situation forced her onto the streets.
“What are you doing in the snow?” asked Nikola. “Come inside, sit by the fire.” After living as a refugee in war-torn Bosnia, he always had a soft spot for people without shelter. During the cold months, he carried a stash of warm blankets on the engine and gave them out freely to anyone who needed it.
They all accompanied her upstairs. Garrett pulled a chair up to the fireplace and Tom produced a blanket. Beckett asked if she wanted some coffee or hot chocolate.
“No, dearies,” she answered. “None of you remember me. That will change.” Her smile held a secret that she couldn’t wait to tell.
Jak’s sixth sense was harping at him. This woman was more than she appeared. The moment he had stepped into the station he’d known something was coming, and this was it.
In the course of a few words, the dayroom of the firehouse had taken on a magical feel. All six of them studied the diminutive woman. Nikola, Tom, and Jak sat nearby on the flagstone hearth. Charlotte perched herself on the arm of the woman’s chair, ready to offer any assistance she could.
“Remember you?” questioned Nikola through narrowed eyes of disbelief.
She nodded as she turned to Nikola. “One good deed deserves another.” She paused. “Do you believe that, Nikola? Or should I call you St. Nick?”
Nikola’s eyes grew wide. “But how?”
“I told you,” she explained. “We’ve met before. And your name, Nikola Bozic, or should I say St. Nicholas Christmas, wasn’t given to you by mistake.” She motioned for him to come closer.
Nikola hesitated before seating himself on the stone hearth next to the woman’s chair. From where he stood, Jak couldn’t make out the words, and that was fine since they obviously weren’t meant for him. It wasn’t so much a conversation, more like a speech the little old woman gave Nikola as he stared dumbfounded at her. When she finished speaking, Nikola blinked his eyes and shook his head, almost as if waking from a trance.
The woman reached deep into the cavity of her coat. She wiggled her arm around for a few seconds before pulling out a small, enclosed cake tin embossed with green leaves and small red berries. “I made you a fruitcake,” she said to the room with glee as a cartoonish smile splashed across her face.
Something else to add to the counter overflowing with Christmas treats that the public brought them this time of year. Jak had never tasted fruitcake, and given all the dessert options laid out, he doubted he’d taste it this year. Charlotte and Nikola, who were closest to the woman, leaned in a little. Garrett leaned away, his face turning a shade of green and his mouth twisted in revulsion.
The old woman used her arthritic fingers to slowly crack open the tin, causing a stale, candied fruit smell to infiltrate and spread throughout the room. Jak heard a quiet retching noise and noticed Garrett trying to keep something down. He looked like he wanted to hide, or, even better, disappear quietly from the room.
“Garrett,” the old woman said.
Jak suppressed a laugh at seeing their fearless captain obviously struggling with how to handle this fearsome fruitcake.
“Thank you so much,” Garrett finally said to the woman, reaching out for the tin like it was full of noxious haz-mat. “I’ll place it on the counter with the other treats and we’ll eat your wonderful cake after dinner.”
The old woman tsked her tongue at him as she motioned with her eyes to the open space on the flagstone hearth that Nikola had vacated. Garrett was forced to sit next to the woman. He looked like a toddler who was about to be force fed vegetables.
“Now, dearie,” she said with kind eyes. “Or would you like me to call you Garrett?”
“Garrett’s fine.”
“Garrett.” She nodded.
Just as it had with Nikola, the woman’s voice grew quiet as she spoke directly to him for a minute. Then she took a long dull knife out of the inside pocket of her jacket, and sawed at the fruitcake as she hummed a Christmas jingle. Jak did not envy his captain. The fruitcake looked like vomit that had been pressed into a loaf.
Jak leaned over to Tom and whispered, “Maybe we should get a puke bucket.” If it wasn’t for the no phones rules, Jak would pull his phone out and take a video. He’d seen Garrett handle blood and every imaginable bodily fluid on emergency scenes, yet here he was being a huge baby about a slice of fruitcake.
“Does Garrett, your captain, deserve love by Christmas?”
“Yes!” answered the crew.
In true Christmas spirit, a red blush took over the green tint to Garrett’s face. This guy who was always in charge was being pushed around by a tiny lady and her sketchy dessert.
“Eat my cake,” she told him. “That’ll make me stop.”
Garrett gulped visibly. “I can’t,” he choked out.
“What if I told you that Maci loves M&Ms. Peanut butter M&Ms. And M&Ms are two perfect Ms together.”
“How?” is the only word he managed to say.
“Things aren’t always what they seem,” she said with an impish wink, extending the cake out to him again.
The crew leaned in, totally engaged now as Garrett cupped the crumbly piece of cake in his hands, closed his eyes, gulped again and popped it into his mouth. A moment later his face relaxed and a smile filled in where worry had been.
He opened his eyes. “It’s really good,” he said with surprise.
“Of course it is, dearie,” said the little lady.
Garrett studied the woman’s face for a minute, and recognition see
med to dawn. “Did we?” he said, then stopped.
“Go,” she commanded, dismissing him as she summoned Tom to join her with a wave of her hand.
Charlotte stood and went to Garrett’s side, obviously full of questions.
Jak stood back and watched as the woman spoke privately to Tom. He wasn’t as reluctant to eat the cake as Garrett had been.
“That’s the best fruitcake I’ve ever had!” said Tom. “I’d ask for a second slice if I wasn’t scared about the promise that went with it.”
She summoned Beckett over and repeated the process.
Jak kept an eye on Charlotte, wondering how’d she’d take the old woman’s magical overtures. She was talking to Garrett, anxiously running her fingers through her hair and looking around the room for an escape path. Jak went to the door that led to the stairs and folded his arms meaningfully. Tom took up a post in front of the hallway.
If there was anything he could do to help her be happy, or find love if that was really what this was all about, he’d do whatever he could. He also couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be next or if this was strictly for the on-duty guys. After his sixth sense had flared earlier, he was hoping to get a shot at whatever she was offering.
Before Charlotte got her turn, the tones went off through the building—car accident with injuries, extraction needed. The crew jumped from their positions of repose. Garrett was frozen, looking between the woman and stairs.
Jak tapped him. He knew they couldn’t leave the woman there alone in the station. And they obviously couldn’t force her back out into the storm without making sure she was safe. “Go ahead, Cap. I’ll stick around until you get back.”
“Thanks, you beautiful Viking you.” Garrett ran after his crew, leaving Jak alone with the little old lady.
She smiled impishly up at him. “Lucky timing, I’d say.”
Jak somehow didn’t think luck had anything to do with it. So much for Finlayson’s Theorem of Fire Calls. If the theorem was true, the call would have come in just before Garrett took his bite. Something special and very Christmasy was going on here. Jak went over to the hearth and sat down without even being bidden.
“Jak.”
He waited, hoping the woman was about to tell him where to find Jillian. Wait, how did she know his name? Had one of the other guys mentioned it?
With a twinkle in her eyes, she asked, “Have you found your true love yet?”
“I … Have I?” Where had that question come from?
“If you haven’t, you will. Ere the denouement of the Christmas Eve party with your brothers and sister.”
Ere? That meant before right? Well that was good news! “I will?” Jak hoped she was talking about Jillian. And as weird as this encounter was, if it gave him any more good Christmas juju, he’d take it. “Is it Jillian? Is that my true love?”
“Don’t worry. Angels never let you down at Christmastime.”
Was she telling Jak that he had angels helping him? Or that she herself was an angel?
She went on “Have a slice of this delicious fruitcake, dearie.” With a clenched, arthritic hand, she started to saw through the thick loaf.
“Let me help you,” said Jak, reaching for the knife.
“I’ll manage,” she said with a smile. “I always do.”
The fruitcake must have been rock hard because it took forever for her to cut a slice off. Finally she flopped the slice over in her hand and held it out.
“Thank you,” said Jak, accepting it, and shoveling the entire piece in his mouth in one movement.
It really was delicious. Fruity and nutty and it made his instincts perk up again in a good way.
Ere the Station 3 Christmas Eve party. All Jak had to do was wait, and hope that it was Jillian who fulfilled the prophecy.
He smiled at the woman … and suddenly remembered. “That tiny house on Main Street. Last spring. That’s where we know you from.” On a day off, the crew had been on their way to a Utah Royals FC match and had seen a little old woman hauling a big box from a moving van into her house. They’d pulled over to help, knowing they’d miss seeing the lovely female soccer players warm up. Jak had been joking around about asking one of them out on a date if he could get their attention. With all of them pitching in, they’d finished unpacking the van in about fifteen minutes. They made it to the game with plenty of time for the starting whistle but missed out on the pre-game opportunities.
“Merry Christmas, dearie,” said the woman, patting him on the hand. The words sent her into a coughing fit.
Jak jumped up to get her a drink. He grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and turned back, saying, “Would you like ice—”
The chair was empty. Jak scanned the room, but there was no sign of her. He rushed back to the chair, hoping she hadn’t choked and fallen to the ground. Still no sign of her.
The door hadn’t opened and there was no way she could reach the hallway quicker than Jak could reach the cabinet. He sunk into the chair. It was completely dry, as was the blanket the woman had been wrapped in.
Staring into the fire, he wondered about the odd happenings of the evening. Maybe those months on the Arizona Trail had jarred something loose in his sanity. Hopefully the Christmas magic he was feeling was real and both of the odd encounters with women tonight were related.
When the guys got back from their call, he’d have to find out—on the sly—whether the woman had been there or not.
Then he noticed the green and red tin, and still inside of it, part of the fruitcake. Jak eyed it.
“If one slice helps my chances, hopefully two slices make it more likely,” he said, returning to the kitchen to grab a knife. “And three’s a guarantee.”
* * *
For a long time, maybe an hour, maybe two, Jak sat in front of a recliner facing the fireplace. He left the old woman’s chair where it was so the guys could see it. The crew eventually came back from their call, but by now Jak was in a bit of a trance state, staring at the dancing flames, thinking of everything the woman had said.
“She’s gone,” said Jak to the fire. “I turned around to get her a drink of water, and when I looked back, she was gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” asked Garrett. It made sense he was concerned. The safety of the crew and the security of the station came down to him as captain so he wouldn’t want some random stranger hiding out there.
“Poof,” said Jak with the appropriate hand gesture. “Just without the poof noise. She gave me my … fruitcake prophesy, just like she gave you, then she started coughing, so I got up to get her a glass of water. Then … poof.”
“Fruitcake prophesy?” said Charlotte with a chuckle. “Is that what you’re calling the crazy talk of a homeless person?”
“I have to agree with Charlotte,” said Nikola. “You’re all acting a little strange after eating that fruitcake and I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
“Fruitcake prophesy?” JFK chimed in. “From a crazy homeless person?” He held his hands in the air, waiting for answers that didn’t come. “Where was I?”
“Let’s look around,” said Garrett, ignoring their commentary. “Make sure she didn’t just go to another room and pass out or something.”
Jak stood to join the manhunt. “That’s a good idea, just so you guys can rest easy, but I already searched every inch of the station.”
“We’ll call it a night drill,” said Garrett. “Nikola, JFK, Tom, and Beckett—primary search of the second floor. Charlotte, Tom, and I will do a primary search of the first floor. Then we’ll switch and do a secondary search.”
The teams split up and Jak followed Garrett and Charlotte down the stairs. Garrett asked, “What’s that famous gut of yours telling you about all of this?”
“It’s legit,” said Jak simply. “Hold on to your Santa hat, because things are about to change for all of us.”
Garrett studied him and Jak could tell there was hope in his captain’s eyes that it would come true. Charlotte,
who had been watching closely, scoffed and walked into the workout room without another word.
When the searches were finished, they met back in the dayroom and talk returned to the fruitcake and who’d eaten it and who hadn’t. Charlotte was the first to go to the counter and open the tin.
Her face registered a look of surprise, then she held up the near-empty tin. “Not much left here.”
Jak tried to look innocent but Charlotte saw right through it and gave him a smile like he was busted.
“Huh,” said Jak. “It must have disappeared when the old woman poofed away.”
“Yeah.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Disappeared into your gut. At least one of you big strong men isn’t afraid of a little fruitcake.” She shoved a bite in, obviously trying to get it over with, and chewed fast. Her eyes widened. “Wow that’s good.”
Jak just smiled. Not only in hopes of his own Christmas miracle, but in hope that the guys, and especially Charlotte, would get one too.
5
Jak ran a brush through his beard. He’d never done so before, but if he was going to play a blond-haired, red-bearded Jesus, he wanted to look as respectable as possible. He did love the diversity of the cast—as diverse as you could get in Park City, Utah anyway. Jesus had lived in the Middle East after all, so any attempt to fill roles in the pageant with people from other ancestry would be inaccurate. A Mexican Inn-keeper, Somalian Wiseman, Thai Angel, and Scandinavian Jesus gave the pageant a world-wide feel. JFK’s wife Mercy was playing an angel, tattoo sleeve and all.
The only role that had a requirement was Jak’s—the beard. He certainly hadn’t been selected for his acting ability or experience.
He looked into the mirror and repeated his lines. “I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.” That was one. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
Jak had only rehearsed those about a thousand times since Mercy had given him the lines. He really wanted to do this role justice.
Her Christmas Miracle: Park City Firefighter Romances Page 4
