A Witchmas Carol

by Amanda M. Lee

  “And she wouldn’t like that tendency because she has it, too, and she doesn’t want to share the leadership role,” Grandma said. “Believe it or not, this night wasn’t all about punishment. It was a gift of sorts.”

  Oh, now she was just making stuff up as she went along. “It wasn’t a gift,” I countered. “Sure, there were parts of it that were nice. I loved seeing the Christmas when we got Sugar again. I had fun seeing Landon when he was a kid. I even liked the nice pope and king touches here in the future. The rest of it was definitely punishment.”

  “Well, I didn’t say she was perfect,” Grandma muttered, causing me to snort. “The truth is, Tillie is very set in her ways. She does things her way, and that won’t ever change. She’s kept you alive, hasn’t she? She took care of you when you were little. She’s also there when you’re upset.

  “I would never pretend that everything she does is right, but she’s blamed for the wrong more often than she’s exalted for the right,” she continued. “You need to give her a break. She brought you here for a reason. All you need to do is figure out what that reason is.”

  “We already have,” Landon pointed out. “We’re sorry about wanting to separate for Christmas. We realize it was a mistake. And, believe it or not, we actually want to spend Christmas with her.”

  “And that’s despite all this,” I added, gesturing.

  “That’s good,” Grandma said. “I think that means you’re almost there.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?”

  “You’ll have to figure that out on your own. Still … .” Grandma took me by surprise when she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me forward for a quick hug. “It was good to spend time with you, girl. You remind me so much of your mother.”

  “And I was just starting to like you,” I muttered, earning a chuckle.

  “In case things happen too fast, in case I don’t get to see you again, you’ve turned into a lovely woman,” Grandma volunteered. “You’re bossy and a tad whiny, but you’re loyal and strong like Tillie. I’m glad she did such a good job raising you.”

  “I think Mom is going to have something to say about Aunt Tillie claiming she raised me,” I pointed out.

  “She might, but she’d never argue that Tillie had a lot to do with how you turned out,” Grandma said. “Tillie didn’t raise anyone herself – she always had help – but she did do some magical things with you girls, didn’t she?”

  I couldn’t find fault with her logic. “So where is the big finale?”

  “Close. It’s time to find your final answers.” Grandma released me and smiled. “It won’t be as hard as you think. Simply open yourself up to the truth.”

  “Yeah, I think you mean I need to open myself up to Aunt Tillie’s truth,” I countered. “That is freaking terrifying.”

  “You can say that again,” Landon mumbled.

  I watched Grandma move across the party, her interest laser focused on Twila, Marnie and Mom. Sure, the versions of them Aunt Tillie came up with for this world were absolutely ludicrous, but that didn’t mean Grandma wasn’t happy to see them.

  “This entire thing is crazy,” I noted. “On one hand it’s mean and cruel. On the other it’s kind of funny. It’s so surreal it borders on ridiculous.”

  “That’s the way Aunt Tillie rolls,” Landon teased, his eyes focusing on a figure sitting at the last table in the row. “There’s Thistle.”

  “Where?” I jerked my head in that direction, smiling when I caught sight of my missing cousin. Her hair was a muted brown instead of the vibrant colors she wore now and she seemed tired, as if raising five kids had drained her a bit. She still looked like Thistle, though. I hurried in her direction. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  “Who are you?” Thistle asked, her expression quizzical.

  “I’m … .”

  “Dwayne and Whitley,” Landon gritted out. “We’re cousins from the Upper Peninsula.”

  Thistle quickly lost interest. “Oh. Well, I’m glad you could make it to the party.”

  “I am, too. I met your son – um, Fennel – on the other side of the clearing. He seems nice.”

  “He’s trouble. They’re all trouble.”

  “Yes, but … .”

  “Is there a reason you’re talking to me?” Thistle might’ve been beaten down, but her temper was still intact. “I don’t know you, and I don’t want to know you.”

  “But … .” I balked. “Why?”

  “Because I’m a bitter woman,” Thistle replied, her tone remaining even as she parroted back words I’m sure Aunt Tillie planted in her head. “Ever since I missed my first Christmas with Aunt Tillie my life has been on a never-ending downward spiral. I wish I could take it all back.”

  “Oh, geez.” I slapped my hand to my forehead. “This is getting painful.”

  “You’ve got to hand it to her,” Landon said. “When she finds a theme she likes, she sticks to it.” He leaned over and stole a chicken wing from Thistle’s plate. “This looks good.”

  I ignored his obsession with food and remained focused on Thistle. “That’s it? You’re sorry you missed Christmas with Aunt Tillie?”

  “I am,” Thistle confirmed. “She was smart and wise, and I was dumb and mean.”

  “Yeah, the real Thistle would never say that,” I said. “I don’t care how many twists and turns her life took, she’d never let Aunt Tillie win.”

  Thistle ignored me. “My life is but an empty shell since I missed that Christmas. Things floundered in terrible ways, and I’ve done nothing since but try to think of ways to make it up to Aunt Tillie.”

  “Is that what she wants?” It made sense, in a very odd way. “Is that what Aunt Tillie wants?” I shifted to scan the party. “Where is she?”

  “I hope you get fifty pimples on your butt,” Cinnamon screamed, an explosion of magic following. This one was near enough to cause me to jerk closer to Landon.

  “Hey! That was too close!”

  Cinnamon poked her head out of the bushes. “No one asked you. We’re having a war here. Do you mind?”

  “I do mind,” I shot back. “Why are you having a war?”

  “Because Mom, Bay and Thistle missed Christmas with Aunt Tillie and ruined all of our lives,” Cinnamon replied. “Now all we have are wars.”

  “Yeah, I saw that coming,” Landon said.

  He wasn’t the only one. I focused on Thistle, willing her to break out of her dazed state and join me in a fight against the evilest Christmas witch of them all. “There’s still time to make up for it,” I said. “We can all make up for it. Or, we can just not put up with her crap any longer.”

  Thistle’s expression was morose. “I wish I could take it all back.”

  “Son of a … !” My temper took over. “Okay, I get it. I’ve figured it out. Aunt Tillie!” I bellowed her name, glaring when my impish great-aunt popped into view at my elbow.

  “You screeched?”

  “Yes, I did,” I confirmed, feigning sweetness. “I couldn’t find you … what with the magical explosions and all.”

  “Cinnamon can’t help herself,” Aunt Tillie said. “A lack of Christmases with me ruined their lives. It’s all over for them. This is the best they can do.”

  “I get it,” I snapped. “You were right. We were wrong. The thing is, what you don’t seem to understand is that we want to spend Christmas with you. We realized the error of our ways hours ago.”

  “We really did,” Landon agreed. “We’re sorry.”

  Aunt Tillie folded her arms over her chest. “Not good enough.”

  Not good enough? Oh, I knew what she wanted. I grabbed her shoulder and forced her to look at me. I was getting desperate. I knew it showed, but I didn’t care. “Not only are we sorry and regretful, but … um … well … .” I wasn’t sure I could say the words I knew she wanted to hear. It was the only way out of here, though, so I needed to suck it up and do it.

  “You were right,” I blurted out. “Y
ou were right, and we were wrong. You’re the wisest witch in the land and we didn’t realize how selfish we were. We were total losers and we’re lucky you still find the strength to love us.”

  Aunt Tillie’s face cracked into a slow grin. “Well, what took you so long? That’s all I wanted to hear.” She clapped her hands, causing the sky to cloud over and snow to begin rushing down. “It’s almost Christmas, Bay. You came to your senses just in time. Now … go to sleep. It will be morning before you know it.”

  I don’t see why men make such a big deal about buying gifts. I’m easy to buy for. I like things that sparkle and smell nice. How hard can it possibly be?

  – Thistle annoyed by male shopping habits

  Nineteen

  I rolled to a sitting position in the bed, my eyes busy as they scanned the right and left sides of the room. We were alone, back where we started, and it was still dark outside.

  “Landon?”

  He was beside me, but he didn’t bolt upright. He merely stared at the ceiling. I took a moment to let my eyes adjust and then rested my hand on his shoulder.

  “Landon?”

  “I’m here, sweetie.” Landon gathered my hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. “I’m just … thinking.”

  “About the pope?”

  Landon snickered. “About everything. It looks like you were right. We were here dreaming the entire time.”

  “Did you doubt that? Grandma basically told us that outright.”

  “When?”

  “She said that she and Uncle Calvin were visiting Aunt Tillie in her dreams for Christmas,” I reminded him. “She had other plans when they got there, but they were always in our dreams.”

  “Well, I don’t think it really matters,” Landon noted. “We’re here, and it’s over.” He rolled to face me. “It’s over, right?”

  That was a good question. I looked at the clock, focusing on the muted electronic digits. “It’s almost four.”

  “Which means we still have a few hours to sleep,” Landon noted, grabbing my arm to tug me down. He tucked me in at his side and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Do you hear the wind? It’s still roaring. It’s supposed to stop at six, though.”

  “And then what?” I nestled my head on his shoulder. “What are we going to do?”

  “Spend time with the family. It’s Christmas, after all.”

  “We need to call Clove and Thistle when we wake up, make sure they’re coming, too. It won’t be Christmas without them.”

  “Don’t worry, Bay. We’ll have a great Christmas.”

  “I bet you’ll even get bacon,” I teased, poking his stomach.

  “Don’t do that,” Landon warned, taking on a grumpy tone. “My stomach is upset. I think I ate too much turkey.”

  I arched an eyebrow surprised. “We were in a dream. You didn’t eat anything.”

  “I still have indigestion.” Landon shifted. “Rub my belly.”

  Another gift from Aunt Tillie. It really was the holiday season.

  “THIS ABSOLUTELY BITES.”

  Three hours later, Landon and I were showered and changed. Once we opened the front door, though, we found ourselves snowed in. We had more than a foot of fresh powder. That meant we had to shovel if we expected to get Landon’s Ford Explorer out of the driveway.

  “What do you want me to do?” I challenged, my nose and cheeks bitterly cold. “I’m moving as fast as I can. If you ask me, shoveling is men’s work.”

  “How incredibly sexist.” Landon planted a kiss on the tip of my nose. He’d bounced back from his stomachache remarkably quickly and was now practically panting at the idea of breakfast at the inn. To make that happen, we needed to get out of the driveway.

  “Come on, Bay. Put your back in to it.” Landon shot me a pointed look before moving to a spot behind the Explorer. “You’re supposed to be tough. You’re supposed to believe that women can do the same work as men … only better.”

  I opened my stance and bent over, scooping a huge mound of snow – before lobbing it at Landon. It hit him square in the face, causing me to giggle as he glared while wiping it away.

  “That was very immature.”

  “I stand by my earlier statement,” I said. “I think men should have to shovel.”

  “And what should women have to do? Knit?”

  I shook my head. “The only thing knitting needles are good for is stabbing people.”

  “Okay, well … what should women do?”

  “We give birth. Isn’t that enough?”

  Landon snorted, genuinely amused. “You have a point.”

  “Does that mean I’m done shoveling?”

  “No.”

  I pushed out my bottom lip. “Come on, Landon. I gave birth to three children for you and two of them were terrible human beings. I think I’ve done my part.”

  “That did it.” Landon was already moving toward me. He tackled me into the nearby snowdrift, causing me to squeal as he shoveled snow on my face. “Don’t even think of using that against me ever again,” he ordered. “Those children weren’t real.”

  “And I’m thankful for that.” I grew silent for a moment. “Although, Saffron wasn’t bad. I know she wasn’t real and was meant to give us a specific message, but I saw a lot of you in her.”

  Landon tilted his head to the side, considering. “She wasn’t real. That doesn’t mean we’ll forget her. She said some wise things. That proves she was my daughter.”

  “Oh, you suck.” I rolled in the snow with him, laughing so hard my lungs hurt from the cold. The blizzard gave way to a beautiful day – other than all the fresh snow, of course. The sun shined, causing the snow to glisten, and even though I was freezing despite my heavy winter coat, the moment was warm.

  “Merry Christmas, sweetie,” Landon whispered right before pressing a long kiss to my mouth. I was breathless when we separated. “Now get up and get to work.” He tossed a bit more snow on me before standing, turning his attention to the road when a familiar truck stopped at the end of the driveway. “It’s Marcus.”

  I followed his gaze, grinning when I saw Thistle hop out, shovel in her hand and a huge smile on her face. “What are you doing here?” I called out.

  “We’re here for Christmas,” Thistle replied. “Marcus has a snow blower at home so it wasn’t hard to dig ourselves out. Sam and Clove are on their way, too. They were just finishing up their cleanup efforts. We figured you might need some help.”

  I took a moment to study her as she closed the distance. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, but she looked none the worse for wear otherwise. “How was your night?”

  Thistle pursed her lips. “Long. How was yours?”

  “Long.”

  “Even though I’m thankful to be out of it – and I truly am – I’m going to make that old woman pay.”

  I snorted, amused. “Do you want to hear about my night?”

  “Oh, I need to tell you about mine first,” Thistle said, digging into the nearest snowdrift. “So, do you remember the movie Black X-Mas?”

  I barked out a laugh. “I knew it. She let something slip about your story when she was with us, and I knew you got Black X-Mas. Where were you? Was there a yellow guy in the walls?”

  “Mrs. Little was in the walls,” Thistle replied. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. So, we woke up in this sorority house and, I’m not joking, it was so pink it would’ve made a My Pretty Pony throw up.

  “I knew we were in trouble right from the start, even though Marcus was convinced it was a dream,” she continued. “I thought it was a punishment curse or something – I mean, what would I hate more than sorority girls, right? – but we were only there for, like, ten minutes, and then one of the girls had a knife sticking out of her eye.”

  “Nice.” I joined in the shoveling. “How many people died?”

  “Pretty much all of them. Like, twenty girls. We couldn’t leave until we admitted we were terrible people and that Christmas with Aunt Tillie is better than Chris
tmas in a sorority house. I don’t care how angry I am at that woman, it wasn’t hard to admit. Christmas with Aunt Tillie is better than a house full of dead sorority girls.”

  “What about live sorority girls?”

  “Oh, it’s definitely better than that,” Thistle said. “What about you guys? What Christmas nightmare did you get?”

  “A Witchmas Carol.”

  “What?” Thistle furrowed her brow. “You mean from the Christmas book?”

  “I nodded. We were visited by two ghosts and Aunt Tillie, and shown the past, present and future.”

  “Huh.” Thistle’s expression was hard to read. “How did that all work out?”

  “Well, for starters, Aunt Tillie handled the past. She took us to the Christmas before we got Sugar … and then I got to see Sugar again.”

  Thistle brightened. “How’d he look?”

  “Just as cute as I remembered.”

  Thistle smiled. “This summer we should go up to that spot where we buried him. We haven’t been there in two years.”

  She was right. “We’ll take some bacon.”

  “Don’t mention bacon,” Landon called out. He was making tremendous progress now that he had Marcus helping him. That was good news for me, because I was more interested in relating my evening to Thistle than in shoveling snow.

  “I also got to see Landon as a little boy and teenager,” I added. “He was very cute when he was little, but he was a total tool as a teenager.”

  “Oh, do tell.”

  “Don’t tell,” Landon groused.

  “I kind of want to hear it, too,” Marcus admitted.

  “Well, for starters, his hair was even longer than it is now, and he drove a car shaped like a penis,” I announced.

  “That car was not shaped like a penis,” Landon barked. “It was a Camaro. A Camaro is a classic car.”

  “Shaped like a penis,” I added.

  “It was not shaped like a penis!”

  I waved off his feigned outrage. “He had a pretty blonde girlfriend named Shelly who was very dramatic. She cried because he was going to break up with her.”