A Witchmas Carol

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I don’t know Terry other than remembering him as a bright-eyed boy with a good heart,” Grandma said. “I didn’t have an inkling of the sort of man he would become. He’s done well by this family, and I know he’s loved.

  “As for Tillie, while I’m sure her methods were unorthodox – and sometimes even reckless – I’ll wager that you remember all the things you did with her during your childhood,” she continued. “Were you ever bored with Tillie?”

  “No.”

  “You would’ve been bored with me at times,” Grandma supplied. “I don’t say it to be a martyr or feel sorry for myself, but Tillie was always the one with the loud personality. When I died, she was forced to be responsible. Do you know how hard that is when you’re the fun one?”

  I’d never really considered that. “No. I guess not. It’s just … she’s not my favorite person right now. She keeps doing this to us. It’s no longer funny.”

  Grandma chuckled, the sound low and warm as it washed over me. She shuffled to the sitting area to look at the book Landon and I had perused only moments before, grinning when she saw the illustrations. “Tillie always was creative. I never had that going for me. She passed certain creative traits along to your mother and aunts. I’m thankful for that.”

  “You keep standing up for her,” Landon interjected. “You love her.”

  “Of course I love her. She’s my sister.” Grandma’s eyes flashed as she focused on Landon for the first time. “You’re handsome, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Landon answered without hesitation, earning a scalding look from me that he ignored. “I’ve seen photos of you, too. They have quite a few of them up at the inn. You look like a cross between Winnie and Twila. Other than your height, I don’t see a lot of Marnie in you.”

  “Marnie got my body and her father’s coloring,” Grandma explained. “That somehow made her look like Tillie more than me. Twila got her father’s height and my coloring. Winnie got my height – but not the boobs – and my coloring. They’re an interesting mix.”

  “And Bay, Clove and Thistle carried on that tradition,” Landon mused. “It’s interesting to see them all together. People assume they’re sisters, but I think that’s more the way they act than the way they look.”

  “They were raised as sisters.”

  “I know. The first time I saw Bay with them I thought they were sisters and it weirded me out because I’d never seen siblings as close as them,” Landon said. “I love my brothers, but we’re not close like these three. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

  “And now?”

  Landon shrugged. “And now I’m often torn about the mischief they manage to get themselves into,” he answered. “Even when they’re fighting, they love each other, though. Plus – while I’m not happy about the rules they break and the danger they find – I’m glad that Bay is never alone.”

  Grandma’s gaze turned appraising. “Yes, you’ll do.” She smiled as she patted his arm before turning back to me. “We still have a lot of ground to cover tonight. Are you ready?”

  “If I’m not, does that mean we can be done?”

  “No.”

  I blew out a sigh. I was expecting that answer. “One question before we go,” I prodded. “Why would you be the guide showing us the future? You died a long time ago. Shouldn’t the guide of the future be someone who will be in the future?”

  “I think you’re looking at it far too rationally,” Grandma said kindly. “Tillie didn’t pick guides according to who fit the story. She picked guides because that meant she could have fun with Calvin and me for a time. Christmas was always her favorite time of year, and while this isn’t exactly how she’d like things to be, it’s a vast improvement over how they are.

  “I think she might be a little lonely this year,” she added.

  I rubbed my cheek as I tried to ignore the guilt flowing through me. “Yes. We’re aware. We’ve already decided to fix it. There’s no reason to keep up this charade. We’ll spend the entire day groveling in the hope that she forgives us.”

  Grandma giggled. “You have so much of your mother in you.”

  “Okay, there’s no need to insult me.”

  Landon quieted me with a shake of his head as he grabbed my hand. “Not that I’m not thrilled to meet you – I’ve always wondered about you, that’s for sure – but do you think we can get moving? I’m tired, and I’m guessing it will take us some time to move through … wherever you’re taking us.”

  “The future,” Grandma offered helpfully.

  “Yes, I get we’re going to the future, but I’ve been informed that it probably won’t be the real future,” Landon pointed out. “Bay says the future isn’t set in stone and that time travel is limited to the past for a reason.”

  I couldn’t help but be impressed. “You really do listen when I speak, don’t you?”

  Landon’s grin was sly. “You’d be surprised how often I listen to you – especially when there’s no bacon around to distract me.” As if on cue, his stomach growled loud enough to fill the room. “At this rate I’m never going to get breakfast.”

  I patted his arm. “You’ll get breakfast. They go all out at the inn for Christmas. Eggs, pancakes, hash browns … cookies.” I was a bit wistful. “We’ll be there in a few hours.”

  “You will indeed,” Grandma agreed. “Now, let’s get a move on. You’ve got a lot to see.”

  I paused by the front door, risking a glance at my pajamas. Grandma hadn’t gone through the bother of changing them. “Will this outfit work?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that.” Grandma beamed. “The place you’re going is … warmer.”

  Landon shot me a worried look. “She’s not sending us to Hell, is she?”

  I wanted to scoff at his worry, but I wasn’t completely convinced she wouldn’t do exactly that to mess with us. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  WE WALKED THROUGH the front door, expecting cold and snow to blanket us, and instead found ourselves in the middle of a sunny summer day. I did a double take, glancing over my shoulder at the guesthouse, but my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.

  “I know I’m totally jinxing us by saying this, but I’m already liking the future.” Landon held out his arms and lifted his face to the sky, sighing as the sun hit him full on. “I like the seasons – and Michigan in general – but the winter often feels too long. We have three months left. This is nice.”

  I smiled as I watched him twirl. He reminded me of Clove on spring days when she convinced herself the weather was going to turn early. “It’s definitely nice,” I agreed. “It makes me think that your idea about camping isn’t such a bad one.”

  “I’m telling you we would have fun camping,” Landon said, grabbing my hand. “We wouldn’t have to get a tent or anything – although that could be fun – but we could rent a cabin, go fishing, take walks by a river. I think it sounds relaxing.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “You want to go fishing?”

  “You don’t have to fish.”

  “I’ll consider it.” He was so excited at the prospect I couldn’t very well ignore it. If he wanted to camp, we could camp. We simply wouldn’t do it alone. We’d take Thistle, Clove, Marcus and Sam with us. The men could fish – or whatever it is men do while camping – and we could sit around the bonfire with cocktails. That’s my idea of camping.

  “Look at this place,” Landon said, shifting gears. “It’s the same, and yet it’s not quite the same.”

  I followed his gaze as we passed the bluff, the familiar stones lending an air of comfort even as the trees seemed bigger and somehow ominous. “It does look a little different, huh?” I gripped Landon’s hand tighter. “Remember, whatever we see here, it’s not necessarily going to happen. Aunt Tillie can’t see the future. Even if she was pre-cognitive, which she’s not, she couldn’t see it in this much depth. That means she’s making it up as she goes along.”

  “I figured that out myself.”

  “I just don’
t want you getting worked up over something that probably isn’t going to happen,” I said. “I mean … think about it. She’s trying to punish us. That means she’s going to come up with some outlandish scenarios.”

  “Good point.” Landon seemed amiable, the sun doing wonders for his mood. “It’ll be okay, Bay. I can guarantee we’ve been through worse than this.”

  As if on cue, a couple appeared at the end of the walkway. The woman had long blonde hair cascading down her back in waves – almost to her butt – and the man had short black hair cropped close, and a receding hairline that looked as if it was losing a game of tug-of-war with inevitability. As we closed the distance I realized that we were looking at ourselves … only from the future. It was surreal and fascinating at the same time.

  “We have to hurry,” future Bay announced, her gaze weighted as it focused on the other Landon. “Do you have to walk so slowly? You’re like a tortoise when you don’t want to go to something. We have no choice. We’ve been over it.”

  The other Landon, who seemed out of place given the short hair and bored expression, merely heaved a sigh. “I’ve got it, Bay,” he snapped. “You don’t have to talk down to me. I hate it when you talk down to me. I’m well aware that we have to go to the old bat’s birthday party if we don’t want to be cursed. I’m not new.”

  Once the older couple closed the distance I couldn’t help but notice the gray streaking the man’s hair and the lines crowding the woman’s eyes. They both looked exhausted – and unhappy. I risked a glance at Landon to see if he saw what I did, but he refused to react. He kept a firm hold on my hand and tugged me to the side as the couple strolled past.

  The other me slowed her pace, sparing me an odd look as she took a moment to look us up and down. Did she recognize us? Did she understand why we were here? Was she about to impart some great knowledge before telling us to run? She did none of that, instead flashing a bright smile for Grandma’s benefit.

  “The party will be starting in the garden in about an hour,” she offered. “You’re early, but I’m sure the lemonade and cookies are already out.”

  “You had me at cookies,” my Landon and the future Landon said at the same time, causing me to widen my eyes.

  The other Bay merely scowled at her husband – and the matching wedding rings they wore signified they were indeed married. “I think you’ve had enough cookies.” She patted Landon’s stomach. Although he wasn’t obese he had put on a few pounds. “I told you twenty years ago that eating the way you do was going to cause issues.”

  Her Landon scowled. “One cookie won’t hurt me.”

  “That’s not what your doctor said,” Bay challenged. “He said you need to bring down your cholesterol, eat less sugar and get more exercise.”

  “I have ideas where I can get more exercise,” the other Landon teased, his eyes flashing with flirt.

  Bay didn’t appear to be interested. “Yeah, you’re the reason we have three kids in the first place. Three awful kids. I think we’ve spent enough time exercising like morons. You can start jogging.”

  I wasn’t a fan of the dismissive way future Bay talked to her Landon, but I was much more focused on the tidbit she dropped about future children. “Three kids?” I mouthed to Landon.

  He smirked. “I don’t know. I might be able to see that.”

  “Where are those girls?” Bay asked, glancing around. “We need to get to the guesthouse and change. I told them not to be late.”

  “They’re probably hiding from you,” older Landon muttered, not bothering to hide his disdain. “You pick at them so often that’s all they want to do.”

  “Don’t you have a slab of bacon to drool over?” Bay challenged dryly.

  I moved to pull my hand back from Landon, uncomfortable, but he didn’t allow it. He merely shook his head as a trio of teenage girls – a mixture of dark and light hair on their heads – hopped on the trail and headed in the direction of the other Bay and Landon.

  “Mom,” one of the girls whined, causing me to cringe. She reminded me of Thistle given the dark attitude crowding her pleasing features. “You said you’d wait for us.”

  Bay shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “You found us. It’s no big deal. Now … come on.” She snapped her fingers to get the girls to fall in line. “We don’t have much time.”

  “We’re not dogs, Mom,” one of the other girls complained.

  “Of course not.” Bay’s face reflected distraction. “Now, come on, Sage, Saffron and Sumac. We don’t have much time to get ready for the party and I’m already agitated.

  “What else is new?” the other Landon grumbled.

  I waited until they were out of sight to face Landon. “Okay, I wasn’t sure at first, even though I told you this wasn’t real, but there’s absolutely no way I would name my kids Sage, Saffron and Sumac. This whole thing is bunk.”

  Landon’s eyes sparkled as he tugged me in for a hug. “I figured that out the minute I saw my hair.”

  Jingle bells, Mrs. Little smells, Aunt Winnie laid an egg. Aunt Tillie’s head is in desperate need of meds, and I’m going to get away … with everything.

  – Thistle tries her hand at writing a Christmas song

  Fourteen

  “At least the kids were cute,” Landon offered, his lips curving. “I knew they would be, but … .”

  “That’s what you were worried about?” I was understandably incredulous. “You don’t think their names were a bit much?”

  Landon shrugged. “I thought Sage was kind of cute.”

  That was hardly the point. “And Sumac?”

  “Maybe we didn’t like her. Maybe she was a hard pregnancy or something.”

  “Oh, whatever.” I rolled my eyes and focused on Grandma. She was beyond amused, if her smile was to be believed, that is. “You think this is funny?”

  “I think this is just like Tillie,” Grandma clarified. “She’s clearly given this some thought.”

  “How far in the future are we supposed to be?”

  “You heard the other Bay,” Landon replied. “She said we’d been together for twenty years.”

  “Yes, then she mercilessly picked on your weight.”

  “Yeah, that wasn’t my favorite part.” Landon ran his hand over his hair. “Why do you think I cut my hair? Also … why do you think it was so far back on my head?”

  His hair was a point of continual conversation throughout our time together. I understood why it was long when we met. Don’t get me wrong, I preferred it long. It gave him a dangerous and sexy vibe that made my heart flutter and toes curl. I don’t tell him that, of course, because his ego is big enough. Still, when I picture our future together, he always has long hair.

  “Maybe you cut it so you wouldn’t look like an aging rocker,” I suggested. “There’s nothing worse than a hair band member with a bald spot.”

  Landon narrowed his eyes. “I had a full head of hair. You saw it. I was not bald.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” I patted his hand. “Your hair was a bit thin on top in some places, though. You don’t need to dwell on that. It’s not real. Everything will be perfectly okay.”

  “Don’t placate me.” Landon was back to being grumpy, but he didn’t move away from me, instead slipping his arm around my waist. “Don’t take this wrong, sweetie, but you were kind of a … um … B-word.”

  I glanced around to see if the kids – correction, our future kids – were back. “Who are you spelling for?”

  Landon shrugged. “I have no idea. It just feels wrong to swear knowing that our offspring are running around. Why do you think they’re heading back to the guesthouse, by the way? You don’t think we still live here, do you?”

  That was a sobering thought. “Of course not.” I said the words, but I wasn’t sure I believed them. I cast a quizzical look in Grandma’s direction. “We don’t still live in the guesthouse, do we?”

  Grandma shrugged. “I’m learning things with you. I have no knowledge o
f what’s going to happen.”

  “You’re not much of a guide,” Landon pointed out. “Calvin knew what we were going to see when he took us places.”

  “That’s because even though he was handling this Christmas those things had already happened,” Grandma pointed out. “This hasn’t happened yet.”

  “So how does Aunt Tillie know what’s going to happen?”

  “She … is very powerful.” Grandma averted her eyes. I’d heard stories growing up that she was a terrible liar. She seemed to be proving the stories right.

  “Because none of this is going to happen,” I corrected. “She made it all up. It’s something she imagined for us – while angry, I should point out – so it’s going to be absolutely terrible. That’s why the other me was so mean to you.”

  “And why I was fat,” Landon added. “What? There’s no way I’ll get fat.”

  “I don’t want to start a domestic disturbance, but your eating habits are terrible,” I pointed out.

  “So is your future attitude.”

  “There’s no way I’ll ever be that horrible.”

  “You might, if you decided to emulate Aunt Tillie.”

  “Oh, that is a terrible thing to say.”

  “Okay, that’s enough of that,” Grandma interjected, waving her hands. “We’re supposed to head to a party. I think that’s what we should do. Starting an argument here seems counterproductive.”

  I obediently nodded, but didn’t miss the challenging look Landon shot me. I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but I’m a Winchester. That means it’s essentially impossible for me to do that. “I will never be that mean,” I hissed, falling in step with Landon. “I won’t care if you get fat because of the bacon.”

  “Oh, thank you, sweetie,” Landon deadpanned. “That makes me feel so much better.”