Holiday Magic

by Tl Reeve

  Steam rose up from the engine, and he stared down at the high-tech gadgetry. Unless there were turntables and speakers from back in his DJ days, he couldn’t fix a thing.

  With a shake of his head, he went back inside, slammed the door, and pulled out his cell phone. Not one bar, dot, anything. In fact, the corner of his smart phone boasted the dreaded words no service. He swallowed. Without a phone, he was basically useless. Still, emergency services must work, so he dialed 911 and waited.

  All right, fine, apparently nothing worked if the phone had no service. He was all alone.

  What did he do now? He strummed his fingers on the steering wheel and glanced around. The only sign of life was about a hundred yards in the distance, a faded highway exit sign saying Eden.

  He glanced down at his shoes. They were four-figure shoes he’d gotten for three at an outlet mall. But he didn’t need to ruin them. He would wait. Someone would have to come by, and he would flag them down.

  After putting on his hazard lights, he leaned back and waited.

  He couldn’t be the only guy in the world to travel down this road, at night, by himself.

  All he needed to do was wait.

  Wait and listen to the music.

  The honking of a horn made him jump, and he hit his head. He must have fallen asleep, and he blinked and looked around, trying to orient himself, only to find a pair of taillights whizzing away from him. Everything seemed even more dark and silent than before. His lights were off, and there was no music.

  Nothing.

  He pressed the button to turn on the car.

  “Shit.” His throat dried; his chest constricted. Though out in the open, it felt as if the car was closing in on him, and, as if the car was about to explode, he rushed outside, gulping the cool winter air.

  He was in the middle of absolutely nothing, not even the chirp of a cricket to keep him company. Right then he realized he could disappear, vanish in a poof, and no one would know or care. With no family and only Lyle, who had all but written him off, he could fall off the face of the Earth, and it wouldn’t matter. For the first time in his life, he was completely and utterly alone.

  Except for one thing.

  Even with no lights, the sign to Eden sparkled in the night.

  Without even thinking, he grabbed his dessert and began to walk. He passed the sign and traveled down the highway off ramp where he swore that off in the distance, he spied a glimmering light, a little flicker.

  The light as his only guide, he continued on, his expensive shoes scratching against the cracked asphalt. His focus intent on the light, it took him quite some time to realize he’d entered a town. Maybe not a town, but a cluster of buildings scattered about. While most of the buildings remained as dark as the sky, the windows on the one with the light he followed gave off a soft glow.

  Finally, civilization. So to speak.

  Upon closer inspection, the light that led him was from only a couple of candles in a menorah commemorating the first night of Hanukkah. How had he seen it from so far away? He’d all but forgotten about the holiday.

  The one building with life boasted a hand-painted sign advertising a boarding house, and before he ever got the chance to make it up on the porch or knock, the door flew open.

  “Happy Hanukkah!” A robust, round man basically leaped in his direction.

  A group of no less than twenty people poured outside, all laughing, all different ages including a baby, some younger kids, and a man with a walker. At the sight of him, they all cheered.

  He opened his mouth but had no words. Instead, he held out his offering of an expensive dessert a few hours old.

  “Wait, wait.” The man came over and put his arm around him. “For all the gelt, let’s make a bet.”

  “Bernard.” A woman pushed her way through the crowd. “We can’t have bets on Hanukkah.”

  “Who says?” This Bernard pulled Perry in tighter. “We were just discussing that no one has shown up yet, and look, here he is. Now on this festive night, we must play.”

  Surrounded by the mass of people, Perry did a double take. Where everyone was chattering and cheering, there was one woman standing behind everyone. Long red hair that seemed to shine in the light, a face with sweet features fit for any musician to write a song about, and a shapely little body, she stuck out among the crowd of merrymakers.

  “He’s obviously walked here from the highway. Let him in, he’s probably starving.” An older woman went to his other side.

  “Hold on—you can bet like the rest of us.” Bernard clapped. “Everyone quiet!”

  The silence that had accompanied him on his walk took over, but now it was laced with excitement.

  “Is our visitor here for a battery, a flat, engine trouble, or his girlfriend kicked him out of the car after losing all their money in Las Vegas?” Bernard asked.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” The older woman stepped in front of him and put her hands on her hips.

  For not even saying his name, this was a rather personal conversation. He answered by shaking his head. But to be technical, his last girlfriend had kicked him out after he’d promised one too many times not to be late, that his job was stable, that he would show up when he said he would.

  Everyone but the redhead clapped, and the older woman came over and hooked her arm in his.

  A little girl no more than ten approached and stared up at him. “I know why you’re here.”

  He raised his eyebrows and waited. They always said out of the mouths of babes…

  The older adults inched in closer and gazed with adoration at the little girl.

  “He’s here because he’s going to marry my cousin.” Once her words were out, she slapped her hands over her mouth.

  Well, maybe not out of the mouth of that babe.

  While everyone went into another around of cheers, the redhead crossed her arms. Her cheeks matched her hair, and she walked forward.

  The crowd quieted to a dull simmer.

  “Your car stopped working a few yards away from the sign to Eden, and after sitting there wondering what to do with your computerized jalopy for quite some time, you finally couldn’t take the dark and the silence anymore and walked here.” She punctuated her prediction by tapping her foot.

  If she was the cousin, maybe he needed to know more about the mouth of this babe. Actually, from a pair of form-fitting jeans and a snug sweater, he got all the information he needed.

  He popped the top off his take-out box, revealing the gilded dessert from his ill-fated dinner. “Does this count as all the gelt?”

  Applause echoed around them.

  “We’ll get your car in the morning and see what a mess you made.” She huffed. “Until then, I suppose you can take a room in the boarding house.”

  “I’m going to leave my car on the highway?” No way was his baby going to stay out in the cold by herself.

  “Trust me, no one will touch it. I’m quite sure you will require the fancy tow truck.” The redhead turned to leave.

  “Wait!” he yelled.

  She stopped and glanced at him over her shoulder.

  “Maybe I should call a mechanic or something.” Who was this little lady to take over?

  With slow steps, she returned to him. “I am your mechanic.” Stared right into his eyes.

  “Perry Miller, concert promoter, boarding house guest, giver of dessert.” He placed his box in her hands. Surely she would melt now.

  “Eden Levinson, mechanic.” She handed him back the box. “You’d best get a room before we are fully booked.” Again, she walked away.

  “Eden like the town?” he called after her.

  “Yes, but there are no gardens here.” She disappeared inside the house.

  Once more all the people gathered around him and led him inside. The place seemed straight out of a 1950s cowboy movie.

  “We will set you up in our best room.” The woman from earlier dragged him over to a long desk and motioned for him to sign some
ledger, then bent down and handed him a stack of clean towels. “Here are your towels, and the shower is down the hall. Breakfast is at seven sharp.”

  Down the hall? Community breakfast?

  He glanced at the pen and then tried to sign in his spot, but the instrument only scratched across the paper.

  Everyone laughed.

  “You have to dip it in the ink,” the little girl told him.

  “Oh, right.” With everyone there staring at him, he dipped the pen in the inkwell and proceeded to sign his name, making more of a blobby ink mess than anything else. “Do you need my credit card?” Not that it worked.

  “You promise to pay, right?” The sweet older lady pressed her hand to his cheek.

  “Yeah, sure.” He sort of shrugged. No one had ever trusted him to pay before.

  “Room number eight.” She dangled a key in front of him. “Is there anything else you need?”

  He slid his phone out of his pocket. Still no service. “Do you have a Wi-Fi password?” Least he could do was e-mail some people.

  The entire room went into an uproar.

  “Why don’t you disconnect for a while?” The lady motioned toward the stairway.

  He supposed there was no point asking the location of the nearest elevator. He might have entered Eden, but this was no paradise. At least it was only for one night.

  2

  Night Two

  Arms crossed, lips pressed together, muscles tight, and ready to go, Eden Levinson paced up and down the hallway of her parents’ boarding house waiting for Mr. Slick to appear. With every step she took, her work boots created a boom on the wood floor, surely enough to wake anyone.

  Anyone except for the pretty party boy who’d sauntered into her town, needing her to clean up his mess.

  “Eden.” A paper bag in hand, her mother tiptoed up the stairs and waved at her as if the woman were about to put out a fire. “Shhh.”

  “What am I being quiet for?” Eden put her hands on her hips and purposely slammed her foot down in front of door number eight.

  “Our guest is sleeping.” Her mother put her finger over her lips.

  “He is not a guest. He is lost, and he needs to get home. I’ll never have the parts today if doesn’t get up so I can get his car.” The man everyone had gone gaga for the night before needed to get back to his life, and the sooner he left, the sooner that look on her mother’s face would disappear.

  “Maybe he doesn’t have to be a guest.” A sly smile, craftier than a fox, lit up her mother’s features. “Maybe he’s exactly what we need. What you need. What the town sent to us for you.” Excitement greater than winning all the gelt at their Hanukkah dinner laced her voice.

  She spun away from her mother and faced the door. Ever since she’d been old enough to hear the story, she’d been told how the town provided what they needed, that some magical force saw to them. “What we need is money, so make sure you charge Slick the going rate, and if I have to work double time on his car, he is paying time and a half.” Once making it crystal clear she didn’t need, wouldn’t need, and would never need this person behind the door for any other reason than for what lay within his faux snakeskin wallet, she knocked on the door. More like pounded.

  “Shit!” The man’s profanity echoed from inside.

  Eden stood there, jaw jutted, tapping her foot, and waited while the man created all sorts of ruckus and noise behind the door. She could only pray he wasn’t destroying the place.

  Finally, right before she was ready to pull out the master key and storm in on him, the door flew open.

  Mr. Miller greeted her with a lopsided smile, messy dark hair, and muscles… Wait, what she meant was no shirt. What a heathen.

  “Good morning.” He combed his fingers through his hair, only making it more disheveled.

  “My room better not be destroyed,” she growled.

  “Eden.” Her mother rushed over. “What she meant to say was, she hoped the bed was comfortable.”

  “I didn’t mean to say that,” Eden corrected. “I meant to say, let’s get to it, Slick. I don’t have all day, and neither do you.”

  “I never slept like that.” He rubbed his hand over his face, highlighting a bit of morning stubble. “First it was quiet, too quiet, and dark, way too dark, I was pacing, then staring at the ceiling, then staring out of the window wondering where the stars were hidden.”

  Her mother sighed. More like swooned.

  “There was cloud cover last night.” Eden figured she’d better speed things along.

  “Yeah, that makes sense, weather. Anyway…” He shrugged and went on with the story as though they had time for this nonsense. “I finally lay down and closed my eyes and let the darkness and the quietness take me, and I slept like I never slept before.”

  “That’s beautiful.” Arms outstretched, her mother went to him, encompassed the stranger in her embrace, and kissed his cheeks.

  “That’s also called being exhausted.” Eden ground her teeth together. “Now, Slick, why don’t you give me your car keys and let me go get your jalopy so we can get you out of here?”

  “Let me get dressed.” He yawned, lifted his arms way above his head, and the little vee heading down below his pant line got more pronounced with his movements.

  “No need.” She forced herself to look at anything else and chose the window over his shoulder. “Just give me your keys, and I’ll get it.”

  “You’re going to go by yourself and get my car?” As if he couldn’t believe his ears, he over-exaggerated the question.

  “I do it anytime there is a wreck by my town.” She kept her hand out. “Keys, please.”

  Rather than surrender, he leaned on the doorjamb. “How do you even know where it is?”

  “Okay, Slick, I’ll play your game.” Though she stood straight, she still needed to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. Stupid tall man. “The town of Eden has no stoplights and one freeway exit. If you could see the sign, you are clearly south of the exit. All I need to do is look for the obviously pampered, definitely overpriced import, and I think I’ll do fine.”

  For a second he remained silent. His gaze traveled over her, and he pursed his lips.

  Sure she had won, she waited.

  “I’m the customer, and I’m going with you.” He gave her one nod, then turned and put his shirt on.

  Both she and her mother watched as he took his time, went to the mirror and buttoned his shirt, then slipped on his shoes and returned to her. “I’m ready.”

  “Here’s some breakfast.” Her mother practically jumped and held out her bag. “Eden helped make it. She’s quite a cook.”

  Help her—next her mother would be telling this ne’er-do-well that she sewed and kept house. “No I’m not,” Eden protested.

  “Yes you are. You made the jelly doughnuts.” Her mother hugged her. “She also sews.”

  Slick raised his eyebrows. “I will certainly keep that in mind in case a button falls off my shirt while she fixes my car.”

  “Let’s go.” With a huff, she turned on her heel and stormed away. If this person wanted to go with her, he’d better keep up.

  While she made her way down the stairs, she sped up, hoping to beat him to the tow truck. She made it all the way to the front door before she heard him behind her.

  As though she was being chased by a monster, and in many ways she was, she sped past her father in the main room and collided with the front door. Her hand slipped on the doorknob, but somehow she managed to open it and nearly fell, but she kept going forward. She jumped off the porch and made it across the street toward the tow truck, and right before she was home free, Slick snuck right ahead of her and opened the door.

  She skidded to a halt, the exertion causing her to brace herself on her knees and catch her breath.

  “Here you are. Never let it be said that Perry Miller is not a gentleman.” He bowed to her.

  After swallowing and moistening her dry throat, she went to the truck. “I won�
��t say a word.” She pushed past him and got in the driver’s side, slamming the door shut.

  He moseyed around the car and got in the opposite side. “Wow.”

  “Wow what?” She fished her keys out of her pocket and started the truck. It rumbled to life, and she put it into gear.

  “Not only have I never seen a tow truck like this, but I have never seen a woman drive a stick shift.” He slipped his phone out of his pocket.

  “For someone as worldly as you, you haven’t seen much then.” She drove down the road toward the highway.

  “I’ve seen plenty,” he countered.

  “Something tells me you’ve seen too much and not enough.” Something about his type vexed her. The story was always the same: fancy car that broke down, big-city man who thought their town was quaint and antiquated. Everyone got excited for the newcomer, and then, within a day, sometimes two or three, they left. Yes, they promised to come back. Yes, they promised they cared for her. Yes, they promised the world. But they never delivered.

  After heartache and heartbreaks, she’d decided the town would always give her what she needed, and she didn’t need a man.

  “Maybe I haven’t seen enough.” He let out a low chuckle.

  She knew that tone. Most thought she would faint at the sight of such an important man daring to grace her tiny town with his presence. Well, if anyone was going to get knocked out, it was him.

  Rather than taking the main paved road to the highway, she veered and took the old dirt road, aptly named Old Dirt Road.

  The truck bounced along the pits in the ground, and Slick held on to the door for dear life.

  Her action resulted in the desired reaction, and except for an occasional grunt and groan, her passenger kept relatively quiet. To prove her point, she never asked where his car was located, instead choosing to go the long way around to his sports car. She positioned the truck in front of the fancy little set of wheels and threw the transmission into Park.

  “I take it that’s yours?” She plucked her work gloves off the dashboard and slid them on.