Nebula Awards Showcase 2014

by Kij Johnson

  I’m not supposed to have a master key, but I know where Dad keeps his. I went upstairs for a look at Two-twenty-four. The door wasn’t locked, that was the first surprise. The lights didn’t work. That was number two.

  Okay, in a way they did. When I hit the switch, they came on dim and faded out. No power, right? Only the hall lights were fine. I still had my flashlight, so I looked around. It got dimmer and dimmer. The bed was made, and I couldn’t see anybody.

  “What is it?” That was a kid’s voice. Score one for Mom.

  I said, “I wanted to see if there was anybody in here. Your door wasn’t locked.”

  He didn’t say anythin’.

  “Is everythin’ okay? It seems like your lights don’t work.”

  They came on as soon as I said that. There was nobody there. Nobody at all. I looked in the bathroom and under the bed. My flashlight was fine again. Our closets don’t have doors anymore. If there’d been a kid in the closet, I’d have seen him. “If you’d like to move to another room or anythin’, just let me know,” I said.

  He didn’t answer, and by then I just wanted to split. The light went off as soon as I was out in the hall. I heard the switch click, but I never touched it. I thought of lockin’ the door from outside, but I never even shut it. I heard it close when I was on the stairs.

  That’s it, only when I woke up next mornin’ I kept hopin’ it’d been a dream. I knew it hadn’t been but kept tellin’ myself it had.

  “Your hair’s wet,” June Christmas told her husband.

  “I showered up in her room,” he said. “I had to. I was filthy.”

  “I’ll have to wash your coveralls separately, I suppose.”

  “They’re not so bad. I rinsed them in her tub before I put them back on.”

  Brenda and Gisele checked in the next day. Brenda had a jeep with big tires. That was kind of girl Brenda was. It had made it through the snow of the back roads. Brenda was small and energetic, like her jeep. Gisele was taller and wore her hair in two long braids; she was the kind of girl who is blond in the summer.

  Dondel was in the lobby when they came in. Julius, who had been at the desk looking for his master key, had not known he was there until the doors opened, but there he was. “You are very brave,” he told the girls. Then, “Let me take your coats.” Brenda gave Gisele a look that said, See? I told you there’d be guys here.

  Julius called, “Boy!” and Wyatt put on his coat and boots and went out for their luggage.

  “If you have not eaten,” Dondel was saying, “we would think it a privilege to buy your lunches.”

  Gisele looked around, and Brenda said pointedly, “We?” As soon as she spoke, Andril rose from a wing-back chair that had looked empty. He was younger and better-looking than Julius remembered. So was Dondel, for that matter.

  Wyatt was busy, so I took their orders. The taller girl had our Christmas Inn sandwich, bacon, lettuce, tomato, and smoked turkey breast on a croissant. So did the dark handsome man. The smaller girl and the big man had the Cobb Salad. I think the girls must’ve asked the men what was good here; so those were what the men had told them. I’d brought menus but nobody looked at them.

  “Have you been here before?”

  Dondel shook his head. “We got here yesterday. Have you?”

  “Brenda has.”

  Andril smiled at her. His smile was small and showed no teeth; but it was a good, warm smile anyway. “You must have liked it.”

  Brenda nodded. “It’s okay. I didn’t come last year because I had a steady and we went to his parents’ for Christmas. I dumped him after that.”

  “There are two women with us,” Dondel said. “You shall meet them. But—”

  That was when June Christmas came to take their orders.

  “Why not?” Brenda asked.

  Andril smiled again. “Perhaps we know them too well.”

  Dondel laughed. “Or they know us too well.”

  Gisele whispered, “This is an old place. I feel it.” She was talking to everyone and no one.

  “Very old.” Dondel nodded. “Old and full of ghosts.”

  Brenda said, “Don’t tell me you’ve seen a ghost!”

  “Then I will not.” Dondel’s smile was much larger than Andril’s. “I sense them, as our lovely Gisele does.”

  Brenda turned to Gisele, grinning. “He’s trying to get next to you.”

  Gisele blushed and studied the tablecloth.

  Andril asked, “Would you like to see ghosts? Are you curious?”

  Brenda seconded him. “Ghosts at Christmas are an old tradition. Remember Scrooge? Ghosts and ghost stories.”

  Dondel nodded. “You are quite correct. Furthermore, there are many ghosts in this house, ghosts Gisele senses.”

  “Fine! Tell us a ghost story.”

  “I cannot,” he said. “I am no storyteller. But we have a lady with us who might show you several.”

  Gisele looked up. “A medium?”

  “You, I believe, would call her a size six.”

  Not long after that, their food came.

  The new guests had gone into the dining room with the men, and I knew June would be busy with them. My son would disappear so I couldn’t put him to work; it was something I could count on. I went up to her room and tapped on the door.

  She opened it, as lush and blond as ever. The lacy thing was gone, replaced by a dark green robe that didn’t look exactly like terrycloth. “Again?” She was smiling. “So soon?”

  I shouldn’t have coughed, but I couldn’t help it. I said, “I noticed you hadn’t come down for lunch, and I wanted to tell you that you could have it brought to your room if you prefer. We don’t have a room service menu, but I can tell you everything we have, if you’re interested.”

  “This is very fine of you. I take it my telephone no longer operates?”

  She was onto me, and I knew it. I said, “It does, I’m sure. Might I come in for a moment?”

  She shut the door behind me and locked it, just like before.

  I said, “There’s no need for that, Miss . . . ?”

  “We have been so close and you do not know, my Jule? I am Erennide. So you must speak of me.” Here I got the smile. It was as good as ever. “When we are alone, you may speak endearments as you wish. Shall I take this off?”

  All my willpower was needed to tell her to leave it on, but I did. “What we did was wrong.” I know I sounded as if I were choking. “I want you to promise you won’t tell my wife. That you won’t tell anyone.”

  “She will leave you? I will tell no one.”

  “It isn’t that. That would be what I deserve, and I wouldn’t whine about it. But it would hurt her terribly, and I don’t want her hurt.”

  That was when Erennide grabbed me and kissed me.

  “You do not want me to go with you,” Nranda said as she was strappin’ on the skis I got her.

  “You’re a guest,” I told her. “If you want to come, you can do it. What I want or don’t want doesn’t matter.”

  “I must come. Erennide is my friend. She will wish to know, to see many times what I will record for her. She would try, but she is too fat.” Nranda laughed. It made me think of The Vampire Hour on TV. “Deep into your snow she sinks, Wyatt. We walk in these?”

  “In here we do. You mustn’t ever let them cross.” I showed her how. “You push with the poles, okay? I’m out of here, and if you want to come you can. If you can’t keep up, I’ll wait. When you want to go back, I’ll take you and see that you get back okay.”

  Her smile said I’m goin’ to fix you. “Such devotion I never found in all my time!”

  “Right.” I was headin’ out. I pretended to think she meant it.

  “We will bite down this tree?” If I’d had any luck, she’d have fallen. She didn’t.

  “I got a hatchet in my backpack. We’re not goin’ to cut a real big one.”

  Outside, she was faster than I’d expected. It took her five minutes to catch on, and after
that she kept up with no trouble. “Should I speed down hills on these? Strike hard a tree at the bottom?”

  “There aren’t any steep hills where we’re goin’, and the hills have trees all over them. What we’re wearin’ are cross-country skis. You could go down a mountain pretty fast on them, but it’s not what they’re for.”

  Could I have picked a closer tree? Shit, yes. But I wanted to wear her out, and Dad had jumped all over me for cuttin’ a tree too close last year. I don’t think we went five miles, but it must have been almost that. Then I saw a really pretty tree about eight feet high. That’s perfect for us.

  I got out my hatchet and cut it down while she waved a wand all around us. Catchin’ pictures, she said. When she had enough, I got out my nylon rope. Tyin’ it eight inches above the cut guaranteed it wouldn’t slip off. “We’ve got to drag it back,” I told her. “Both of us. I’d have done it alone if you hadn’t come, but since you’re here you might as well help. Grab hold and put your back into it.”

  I’d figured she’d give up after a hundred yards. It was more like a quarter mile. Then she said, “We cannot do this, my Wyatt. You have taken too big a one. I will go back for Dondel and Andril. Dondel’s so strong! You must see him with no clothes.”

  That was supposed to hurt. I asked whether she could get back okay on her own. She pointed to our tracks and said she’d follow them. “Fine,” I told her. “Just sit tight if somethin’ goes wrong. I’ll be along with the tree in an hour or so.”

  After that, I waited for her to get out of sight before I took out my block. It’s a little plastic one like you’d use to pull up a small boat, but plenty big enough for that tree. I threaded my rope through it and tied it to a good big hemlock. There’s a four-to-one ratio, and when I hauled her in that little tree just scooted along.

  * * *

  They set up the tree that afternoon and trimmed it that evening, while Erennide waved a wand of her own at globes of red and gold glass, Santas, gingerbread men, teddy bears, and tinsel icicles. Urged by Julius, Brenda, and Gisele, four of the five guests who had come in the black SUV learned and sang “Deck the Halls,” “God Rest Ye,” “Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” “Jingle Bells,” and a dozen more. They played Scrabble, blind-man’s-buff, and other games. Four of the five women wandered by purest accident beneath the mistletoe—each of them at least once, and Nranda three times.

  And at last, when it seemed the rest had gone to bed, June got out the old wooden crib set her mother had given her when she was a child and set it up beneath the tree. Not the elephant, the camel, and the wise men—those would come later at Epiphany. But Mary and Joseph, the stable, the manger in which the blessed child would lie, the ox and ass, and the angels and shepherds.

  When it was complete, she rose with a little hum of satisfaction and found Andril bending over it and her, his thin, handsome face rapt.

  “What are they doing?” he whispered.

  “Worshipping.” The word stuck in her throat.

  “The tree?”

  She shook her head.

  “The trough? The trough is empty.”

  “This is Christmas Eve,” she explained. “Tomorrow I’ll lay the child Jesus there and they’ll be worshipping him. Until I do, there’s nothing for them to worship.”

  “I see. . . .” From Andril’s tone, it was clear that he did not.

  “The star up there.” She pointed. “The whole tree. It’s for him, really. For God and God’s son, who’s God.”

  To her utter astonishment, Andril kissed her.

  When they separated (after a kiss that seemed to her very long) and she had caught her breath, she said, “I’m not under the mistletoe.”

  Smiling, Andril told her, “My mistake.”

  * * *

  The question isn’t whether it was wrong. I know it was wrong. The question is how I feel about it, and why. Those are the things I have so much trouble grasping.

  Something passed between my husband and the blonde. I know that. I know him and know when he’s done something wrong. I saw the way she looked at him, and I knew.

  I love him, and I’ve been faithful to him up until that night. He loved me, and I believe he was faithful to me. So is it her fault?

  Yes, it is. So what? It’s his fault, too. And it’s my fault, and so what again? It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. What matters is how she feels about it, and him. How he feels about it, and her. How I feel about it, and them.

  How I feel about that night, and how Andril feels. Those feelings matter because they’ll make us act the way we will.

  I keep telling myself I would not have done what I did if Julius had not done what he did. That’s a lie. I know it’s a lie because it was never how I felt. I got up, and when I came back Andril was sitting on our bed, silent in his silky black pajamas. And Julius was still asleep.

  That was when I saw the child again, standing in the lobby and staring at the tree—at all the lights. I didn’t say anything, and neither did Andril. We just went up the stairs to his room holding hands. When we got there, I washed the creme off my face and took my hair out of the curlers.

  Christmas is always a magical day, but that Christmas Day . . . Well, I’ll never forget it. For one thing, my son was happy and smiling. It was the first time I’d seen him smile since he was a little fellow. For another, June was radiant. It had been years since I’d seen her so happy or looking so beautiful. As for me . . . Well, Santa and his elves would’ve been proud of me, I’m sure.

  I can tell you what happened that day. I can’t make you believe it or understand it, and I’m not sure I do either.

  They came. Felix and Clemente were the first. Felix is our cook and Clemente’s his helper, and they came on Clemente’s snowmobile. I hadn’t even known he owned one, but I was so happy to see them I hugged them both. June gave each of them a kiss. They presented us with their gifts, and we gave them the things we’d picked out and wrapped for them before the snow started, and introduced them to everybody: “Folks, these bold snowmobilers are our friends and employees Felix and Celemente. Boys, I want you to meet our lovely lady guests—Erennide, Nranda, Brenda, and Gisele. And these gentlemen are Dondel and Andril.”

  Then Dinah and Maria, the maids. To say nothing of Maria’s boyfriend Maximo. With a name like Maximo he ought to be a little guy like me, but he’s the size of a small truck. What’s more he owns a great big truck, a rusty monster with big wheels and a real good diesel engine. More presents, more hugs and kisses, more introductions and Happy Holidays.

  We’d almost got settled when we heard the bells, silvery bells a long way down road. A long way, but maybe (just maybe, we told each other) coming closer and closer. That’s when Gisele started to sing; she isn’t a pretty girl, but she has a lovely voice. After a minute or two, June joined in. Then Dinah and Brenda. Erennide and Nranda were next, and after that I started singing myself and lost track. Wyatt gave us a shaky tenor, and Maximo an earth-shaking bass with a strong Hispanic flavor.

  “I heard the bells on Christmas Day

  Their old, familiar carols play,

  And wild and sweet the words repeat

  Of peace on earth, good will to men!”

  After that we sang “Jingle Bells.”

  And not longer after that, the sleigh came. It was an open one pulled by horses all right, just like you see on Christmas cards; but there were two horses, not just one. Two horses trotting along the tracks left by Maximo’s big truck. It turned out the whole thing had been organized by Katie Bates, who’s been here for Christmas every year for the past five. She’d found the sleigh at a riding stable in town and lined up seven others to chip in on the price.

  There wasn’t room for all of us in the sleigh, but we all took sleigh rides. I’ve forgotten just who was in my bunch, but I can swear to June, Wyatt, Maria, and Maximo. I think Nranda and Brenda were with us, too. The driver was a kid named Ron.

  None of the sleigh people stayed overnight, but all of them ate
with us and paid for their dinners. They chipped in and bought one for Ron, too, so that was nine for the Christmas Inn. The rest of us ate after they’d finished, and no charge for any of those. That’s been my policy ever since we opened—employees eat free. I stretched a point and included Maximo as an employee even though he would have paid, and paid for Maria’s dinner, too.

  The sleigh people left at ten thirty or eleven, after a whole lot of good-byes and enough business at the bar to keep all three of us hopping.

  And that’s when we had the seance. It’s where we had it, too.

  “Spirits calling to spirits,” J. R. Christmas said as they prepared.

  Brenda giggled nervously.

  Gisele told her, “The best ghost stories I’ve ever read were by M. R. James. He only wrote one a year, a story that he read to his family at Christmas.”

  “You do not fear the dead?” Nranda asked. “That is well, though some are dangerous.”

  She sat at a small table in the middle of the bar. They had moved the other tables to one side and stacked some of them. The curtains on all three windows had been drawn wide and the shades pulled up. Every window looked out at the snow and the freezing night, out at the dark and the countless stars.

  “Those who wish to remain must form a circle,” Nranda announced. “Those who wish to go must go at once and shut the door. Do not look in until we have finished.” She pointed first to J. R. Christmas, then to her right. “You. Here I wish you.”

  He moved his chair to the place she had indicated.

  “You do not leave, my Wyatt. Remain.”

  “You said those who wanted to go—”

  “Not you.” Nranda shook her head. “You are to assist me. The rest, I do not care.”

  Grumbling, Wyatt sat on her left.

  “Next to my Wyatt’s father, Erennide,” ordered Nranda. “Next to Erennide, the big man. Next to the big man, you I will have.”

  Maximo and Maria took their seats.

  “We shall have Dondel next. After him, the girl with braids.”

  Gisele said, “I’m not sure I’m going to stay.”