A Witchmas Carol

by Amanda M. Lee

  “You’re talking about the kids and not the Nazis, right?”

  Twila ignored my sarcasm. “I love being a grandmother. Sure, six kids is a bit much, but I wouldn’t trade any of them for anything. Er, well, I might trade Fennel for something. But only Fennel!”

  My stomach twisted. “Fennel? I am so going to make that woman pay for these names,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Yes, he looks the most like his father.”

  “Marcus agreed to let Thistle name his kid Fennel?” Marcus didn’t argue with Thistle often, but he held his ground when something was important.

  “Marcus?” Twila wrinkled her nose. “Marcus isn’t Fennel’s father. I mean, sure there was some question about whether Brad or Jim was the boy’s father, but Marcus was never in the running.”

  I widened my eyes as I fought to contain my temper. “I’m sorry … what?”

  “Jim is Fennel’s father,” Twila supplied.

  “Jim who?”

  “Jim Patterson.”

  I racked my brain. “Jim Patterson? The guy who gets drunk and tries to pick up high school girls three times a week?”

  “He was Thistle’s third husband – and he stopped doing that for a time,” Twila said. “I liked her fourth husband much better than Jim, though. And her fifth? I’ve almost forgotten he’s on parole.”

  “Oh … my … .” I couldn’t find the appropriate word. When I risked a glance at Landon, I found his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He kept a firm hold of his turkey leg as he struggled to maintain a calm demeanor. “It’s not funny!”

  “It’s not.” Landon fought hard to sober. “It’s not funny at all.”

  “Look at your kid,” I ordered, pointing at Sumac as she bent over to grab something from the ground, showing the world her cleavage as she did. “Do you think that’s funny?”

  “I’m not claiming that kid,” Landon said after a beat. “Aunt Tillie is just torturing us.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I cracked my knuckles as I turned back to Twila. “What happened to Marcus?”

  “Marcus?” Twila knit her eyebrows. “Oh, well, he was far too good for Thistle. Aunt Tillie told us that was the case from the start, but we didn’t see it.”

  I slid a hateful look in Grandma’s direction. “She’s taking this too far.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Grandma put on an air of faux innocence and light. “I’m just enjoying a beautiful day with a wonderful family.”

  “Now you’re on my list,” I warned. “You’re nowhere near as sweet and nice as everyone made you out to be.”

  “That’s because Tillie turned me into a martyr after my death. The role never quite fit.”

  “Oh, whatever.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Marcus. Where did he end up?”

  “Well, after Thistle gave birth to Mace, Marcus thought they should implement some rules for his upbringing,” Twila explained. “Thistle wasn’t too keen on that. She wanted to raise her children in a bohemian lifestyle because she never found a rule she didn’t want to break or a line she didn’t want to cross.”

  I scalded Aunt Tillie with a dirty look. She was busy entertaining the Pope, but she kept staring in our direction to see what was happening. She was having a fine time being queen of the loony bin.

  “So they fought about Mace’s upbringing? Wait … Mace is a boy’s name. Thistle had a boy?”

  Landon lifted his head, intrigued. “She did?”

  “All boys,” Twila corrected. “Six of them. Sixty fingers. Sixty toes. Six penises. I counted each and every one.”

  I did my best to keep from exploding. “Yes, well, good for you. So Thistle and Marcus fought over Mace’s upbringing,” I prodded. “What happened then?”

  “Oh, right.” Twila broke off another piece of bread and handed it to Chief Terry. “So, they were fighting something fierce – and not having sex – but Thistle turned up pregnant. She claimed it was divine intervention, but Marcus had enough and moved out.

  “They tried to make it work for a bit, went to counseling and such, but he walked away not long after,” she continued. “He still sees Mace all of the time, but he’s king of Hemlock Cove, and his new wife – she was a famous actress, and that chafes Thistle a bit – is queen, and they’re very good rulers.”

  “Hmm. Hemlock Cove has a king and queen?”

  “Yes. We love being ruled,” Twila confirmed. “Aunt Tillie was queen for a long time – the aliens crowned her – but she decided to step down and let someone else rule. Marcus has been really good at it.”

  “Well … awesome,” I gritted out, my temper flaring. “So Thistle had another baby … .”

  “Right.” Twila nodded. “Dill.”

  This time I raised both of my hands to my forehead and pressed hard. “Dill?”

  “Yeah. He’s half gnome. No one talks about it or anything. He’s cute, though.”

  “And his father?”

  “I have no idea,” Twila replied. “I don’t think it matters. Then there’s Oregano – he’s a real cutie, but dumb as they come. It’s okay because we love him anyway. Then, baby Red Pepper Flake brings up the rear.”

  “Oh, come on!” I slammed my hand on the picnic table, causing Landon to jerk and drop his turkey bone.

  “Sweetie, don’t let this get to you,” Landon admonished, licking his fingers. “It’s all made up. None of it’s real. Personally, I’m thankful for that. If she gave us something realistic it would haunt us forever. I think she knew that, and even though she wanted to punish us the idea of doing something that might ultimately hurt us was out of the question. That’s how we got all of this.”

  “I hope you get unstoppable gas,” Cinnamon bellowed from the other side of the yard. No one so much as looked in her direction, so I figured it must be normal behavior, at least for this whacked-out reality.

  “How can you be so calm?” I glared at Chief Terry as he claimed Landon’s turkey leg. The meat was almost completely gone, but he gnawed on it all the same. “Stop that!” I extended a finger in his direction. “You’re going on a diet. And you three … ,” I broke off and glared at Mom, Twila and Marnie. “You’re making things so much worse than they have to be.”

  “What did I do?” Marnie complained. “I’m just giving my little pudding bear some of his favorite cookies.” She made a sound I’d only ever heard women with small infants make.

  “Oh, gag me!” I clenched and unclenched my fists before turning back to Twila. “Where does Thistle live now?”

  “She lives in a shack out by the Hollow Creek,” Twila replied. “Pretty soon it should have running water and everything.”

  “Oh, that is just … I can’t take one second more of this!” I stormed in Aunt Tillie’s direction, pulling up short when I realized Landon wasn’t following. I turned back to slap away the cookie he was about to stick into his mouth and murder him with a harsh look. “No more food!”

  “Hey, don’t tell me what to do,” Landon warned. “If you’re even thinking of turning into that bossy thing we saw when we first got here I’ll have to take a break so I don’t strangle you.”

  I froze, something niggling the back of my brain. “Oh, crap!”

  “What?” Landon asked the question while staring longingly at the plate of cookies. “Did you say something, sweetie?”

  “Yes.” I grabbed Landon’s chin and forced him to look at me. “Do you understand what’s going on?”

  “Yes. You won’t let me have a cookie.”

  “Not that!” It took everything I had not to shake him. “The longer we’re here, the more we start to exhibit the traits of the people we saw on the path. You’re turning into a glutton, and I’m turning into an absolute shrew.”

  Even though he was distracted by the cookie, Landon stopped long enough to fix me with a pointed stare. “Do you think?”

  “Landon, all you’ve done is talk about food for the last ten minutes.”

  “And
all you’ve done is obsess about Thistle and be mean to me,” Landon murmured.

  “I hardly think I’ve been mean to you,” I protested.

  “Think again.”

  I ran the last few minutes through my head. While I had been forceful with him, I was hardly mean. “You got your turkey leg. You’re clearly not suffering.”

  “There’s my mean sweetie.” Landon flashed a grin so I knew he was joking and tugged me into his arms. “It’s okay. We know it’s happening so we can combat it. This is not the end of the world.”

  The sound of blaring trumpets filled my ears and I leaned around Landon so I could see the side of the lawn. “What’s going on?”

  “The king is here,” Twila enthused, clapping her hands. “He’s here and we’re all going to get to spend time with him.”

  “Yay!” Landon brightened. “Marcus is here. He might be able to help us.”

  “Yes, but Thistle still isn’t here, and I’m surprised she hasn’t slit her wrists in this reality,” I said. “Between Mace, Fennel, Dill, Oregano and Red Pepper Flake – seriously, it’s like she just gave up naming kids at some point – Thistle has her hands full. Why isn’t she here?”

  “Because none of us are really here,” Landon replied, craning his neck to see Marcus’ entrance. “This is kind of exciting. I never met a king.”

  “And you’re not going to now,” I growled. “This entire thing is utterly ridiculous.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Aliens … the pope … the president … and a king? I don’t know why you’d think that’s ridiculous.”

  I mustered a withering look. “I don’t want to be mean to you, but you’re really starting to get on my nerves.”

  “Right back at you, sweetie.” Landon wiped the corners of his mouth. “Let’s get to the king and see if we can get some information. That turkey leg was good, but I’m honestly ready to get home.”

  He wasn’t the only one.

  I’m pretty sure that mistletoe was thought up by a man. It’s brilliant, cheap and disposable – kind of like gift bags. Women are powerless to say no when in the presence of mistletoe. Now … move over here and give me a kiss. And bring that plate of cookies with you.

  – Landon decides to get romantic with Bay

  Seventeen

  “Whitley, I’d like you to meet the pope.”

  Aunt Tillie could have no doubt about why I was approaching her, but she continued the charade.

  I spared a glance for the guy to my right, not bothering to hide my eye roll. “You’re the pope? Why aren’t you at the Vatican?”

  “I’m the pope of Hemlock Cove.”

  “Yeah, because that’s a thing,” I muttered, grabbing Aunt Tillie’s arm. “We need to talk.”

  “I’m in the middle of something, Whitley.” Aunt Tillie dragged out my fake name. “We can catch up with whatever’s bothering you at a later time.”

  “No, I think we’re going to catch up now.” I forced a smile for the pope’s benefit, although much like Chief Terry and Landon, he seemed much more interested in the food than anything I had to say. I dragged Aunt Tillie toward a vacant picnic table, refusing to release my grip. “Marcus is here.”

  “Oh, really?” Aunt Tillie tipped her head in the direction where Marcus stood with the loyal subjects of Hemlock Cove. He seemed to be having a good time greeting them, even though his crown looked like something he could’ve picked up at any area Burger King. “Oh, you’re right. There he is. Look. Landon – er, I mean Dwayne – is over there with him.”

  “I see he’s married to what looks to be a movie star.”

  “Yes, Storm.”

  “Storm?” My eyebrows flew up my forehead. “He married a woman named Storm? What kind of name is that?”

  “That was her porn name.”

  “Now you’re just trying to see how far you can push me,” I groused, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why would Marcus marry a porn star?”

  “Because he’s a good man,” Aunt Tillie supplied. “Storm didn’t want to be a porn star. She had PTSD from her time in the war. He was doing her a favor because he’s just that sweet and nice.”

  “That would be the alien war you saved the world from, right?”

  “There was no alien war,” Aunt Tillie countered. “The aliens showed up with replacement suns. Get it right.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I have such trouble keeping everything in the future straight because it’s like it came out of a fantasy novel.”

  “Yes, a fantasy novel.” Aunt Tillie beamed. “It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

  “Go back to the porn lady. Why would she need to watch porn to get over her PTSD?”

  “Not watch it, you ninny.” Aunt Tillie made a clucking sound with her tongue, as if she was holding on by a thread because I was somehow the frustrating one. “She filmed it.”

  “She filmed porn to get over PTSD?”

  Aunt Tillie nodded. “There are different types of therapy.”

  “I so need a drink.”

  “There’s wine over there.” Aunt Tillie waved vaguely. “Have as much as you want.”

  I stared at her for a long moment, emotions I wasn’t sure I could identify bubbling up. Finally I adopted a softer tone. “Do you hate us this much?”

  Aunt Tillie’s shoulders were stiff when she turned to lock gazes with me. “Hate? What makes you think I hate you?”

  “Look what you’ve done,” I replied. I don’t know if I was hoping to shame her. I was, however, desperate to make her think about her actions. “Clove hasn’t stopped staring at her reflection in a mirror. That’s not the Clove we know and love.”

  Aunt Tillie flicked a disinterested look in Clove’s direction. “She’s always had a bit of a narcissistic side.”

  “So have you.”

  “I don’t believe you’re seeing the world in the manner you’re meant to,” Aunt Tillie countered. “Perhaps you need to spend more time here.”

  “Threatening me won’t make things better,” I argued. “Look at me, for example.” I pointed at the unhappy Bay and Landon sitting across the way. “I’m bossing him around, being as mean as possible, and he’s eating enough food to put himself in an early grave. Is that how you see us?”

  “The boy talks about bacon more than he does sports,” Aunt Tillie protested.

  “And yet he’s risked himself for this family so many times I’ve lost count,” I reminded her. “He’s more than just food.” I sent a fond look toward my Landon, scowling when I realized he and Marcus were digging into new turkey legs. “Where are those things coming from? He’s going to gain ten pounds on this trip.”

  Aunt Tillie snorted. “Relax. He’s fine. You’ll both be fine.”

  “I see what you did here,” I supplied, changing course. “You wanted to give us a future to frighten us, but not something that was so bad it sent Landon running for the nearest airport.”

  “Landon is long past his running days, no matter what I wanted to show him.”

  I knew she was right, but I was thankful all the same. “Still, you could’ve made things harder. This is so … out there … that all we can do is laugh.”

  “I don’t see you laughing.”

  “That’s because … that’s because I’m stuck in my head right now.” I risked a look at Chief Terry. “I think maybe I did him a disservice.”

  “Oh, geez.” Aunt Tillie pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re always such a kvetch. Why are you always such a kvetch? That’s Clove’s job.”

  “I’m not sure why I’m a kvetch,” I replied. “You showed me this for a reason. Obviously you want me to do something about the Chief Terry situation.”

  “Bay, I wanted you to be annoyed. That was the most important thing.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  Aunt Tillie preened. “Thank you.”

  “You wanted to show me something, too,” I pressed. “I see it. You wanted me to see Chief Terry this way for a reason. Landon being a glut
ton is just additional fun for you.”

  Aunt Tillie flicked her eyes to Landon and Marcus, grinning. “The boy does love his food, doesn’t he?”

  “Now that he’s living so close to the inn I’ll have to get him on a workout schedule.”

  Aunt Tillie snorted. “Don’t be a pervert.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “Close enough.”

  I rolled my eyes and tugged on my limited patience. “I get what you’re trying to do here. We understand that Christmas is important. If it’s any consolation, I have a feeling we would’ve ended up at the inn regardless.

  “We would’ve spent the morning together and then we both would’ve ended up missing you guys and hiked up there,” I continued. “We were never really going to miss Christmas.”

  “You say that now, but I’m not sure it’s true,” Aunt Tillie countered. “I know you have every intention of spending Christmas with your family. That’s a good thing. You’re still not done here.”

  My frustration, previously burning down to embers, flamed back up. “Why?” I didn’t care that a few heads turned in our direction. “Why aren’t we done here?”

  “Because you have two things left to finish.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Two?”

  Aunt Tillie nodded.

  “And if we do these two things you’ll let us go, right?”

  Aunt Tillie nodded a second time. “Your journey isn’t quite complete. You’ll see the big picture when I’m done.”

  I wasn’t convinced, but I held my palms out in capitulation. “Fine. When will these two things happen?”

  “Soon.” Aunt Tillie’s lips curved. “All you have to do until they happen is enjoy yourself.”

  “I hope you get a period that never ends,” Sumac shrieked, something exploding near the tree line. I’d almost forgotten the kids were still here.

  “Great. I’m really looking forward to it.”

  I CONSIDERED RECLAIMING Landon, but he looked happy with Marcus and his turkey leg, so I left him to his business. My mood was one of irritation, and I didn’t want to snap at him for no reason. I knew the environment was affecting us – both of us – but that didn’t stop my temper from fraying.