by Ciara Knight
“Sounds like a sound plan. You two were close and she is the easiest to chat with about things.” He continued twirling a strand of my hair around his finger as if to study how it had gotten so blond over the years.
“I guess I should go see her now. Where can I find her?”
“She’s not here. She’s in Blacktail.” Had Emma left him? Did she break his heart?
“Blacktail? That’s only thirty minutes away. When does she come…home?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“That must be hard on your relationship.”
“Relationship? We’re friends. Did you think—”
“Yes.” My insides dropped to negative North Pole and then heated to equator sweltering. Did I have it wrong?
“How long have you thought that?” His jaw went slack, and his mouth opened but shut again. “Is that why you left? You thought I was in love with Emma?”
“No.” Yes!
Did he miss me? Did he want me? Did he love me?
“Ash,” he brushed his knuckles along my cheek. “All this time…”
I bolted from the bench. No, no, no. If that was true, I’d wasted all this time. I walked away from something that could have been. He was available, and I was here? Those words should’ve filled me with excitement, hope, desire, but it didn’t. I only felt.
Terror.
Five
Church bells woke me from a fitful sleep. It took me a moment to remember where I was, but the smell of cinnamon and sugar, the nippy air, and the down comforter took me back to Sunday mornings as a young girl with promises of bacon, pancakes, and punch after Church. But I didn’t belong here. What good was a boat business with no ocean. I glanced at my phone and noticed that Clint had called, so I called him back.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing, returning your call,” I mumbled, still in a groggy haze. “Everything okay? Is the Donnelly giving you trouble again?” The irony of my problem boat’s name was not lost on me.
“No. Actually, I thought I’d see when you would be returning?” Clint sounded strange, a hint of strain in his voice.
For a second, I was hopeful some business emergency would force me to leave Christmas Mountain, but without my car it would be tough. Did Uber drivers go out this far? If not, I was stranded until tomorrow. “Something’s come up here, so I need to stay a bit longer than I’d expected. But if you need me back—”
“No, not at all.” Clint’s voice hitched marginally higher than his normal happy tone.
“Spill it.”
Clint cleared his throat with that deep-sea captain sound. “Spill what?”
I bit my bottom lip and tried to figure out his mood swing and why he didn’t want me to return. “Did you sink one of our boats?”
“No! Geesh, Ash, you’d think you were the only one who can run this business. Well, I’m doing just fine. Actually, I’m thinking that this is a good test. I’m…well…”
He didn’t finish his words as if they were too hard to say. My skin tingled with anticipation and not the good kind.
“Clint, what is it? Did Barbara have a hissy again? She accusing us of having an affair? How many times can we reassure her we’re just friends?” I said, my voice deepening with frustration.
“I’m thinking about opening my own charter company. Not in direct competition, but on another Key. It’s time. You run this business and all I do is captain some of the boats. It seems like you never want to relinquish control over any part. We were supposed to be partners.”
“Silent partners, remember? You said you didn’t want to deal with patrons, reservations, or the accounting. I respected that because you lent me the money to start the company. Which I'm truly grateful for.” Where was all this coming from all of a sudden? “So, tell Barbara she has nothing to worry about and that we don’t even work on the same days anymore.”
“Leave Barbara out of this,” he said, with a protective dip in his tone.
Wow, he’d never defended his girlfriend’s crazy jealousy before. What had changed?
“It’s time for me to grow up. Be a responsible man.”
I tugged the covers up around me and leaned forward. “Responsible man? What, you getting hitched or something?”
Silence. The language of a busted man.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“Because you’re like the anti-relationship girl. All you do is talk about how no one can have a family and run a business. Well, I think they can. I think I can.”
I fell back in the bed and knocked my skull against the solid cherry headboard. “Ouch.”
“I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”
“No, it’s fine. You’re right. I guess I’ve had nothing else in my life but my company for so long I forget there is a life out there to live, but I have been thinking about it the last couple of days. Listen, you invested in me when I had no money. Take this time to work on learning more about the backend of the business. I’ll send you some spreadsheets. We’ll talk about expanding. You can run a completely separate business on another key, but I can help you get it off the ground.” Clint was the closest thing I’d had to a friend in eight years. “I want you to be happy.”
“Did someone inject you with Santa Dust? Isn’t that little town you come from called Christmas Mountain?”
“No and yes.” I sighed. “I’ll send those spreadsheets over before I head out this morning. Call me if you have any questions. If I don’t hear from you by Monday evening, I’ll give you a call. I hope to have an update on my ETA by then.”
“Okay, and Ash?”
“Yes?”
“I hope you find some answers. I don’t know what happened to you before I met you, but you’re a good person. You deserve to be okay, too.”
A lump formed in my throat with the knowledge that I had to get out of this town. The only closure I’d ever have is facing the past and letting it go for good. “Thanks, but don’t let Barbara hear you talking to me like that.” I hung up and grabbed my laptop. Business always cleared my head and provided an escape from disappointment. It was the next natural step in our business to expand. Someday, we’d be the biggest and most respected charter company in all the Keys.
By the time I was done organizing the spreadsheets, typing out explanations, and sending him an email, I decided I was ready to take a quick peek into the past. With a deep breath, I retrieved my old scrapbook from my suitcase and looked through it once again. On the first page, I stared at the image of all of us in sixth grade with our friendship bracelets tied proudly around our wrists. I flipped to our seventh-grade year and my first attempt at wearing makeup. Faith had snapped the picture when Carol was fighting with me to put on lipstick and it smeared across my cheek.
Page after page I saw myself with my friends in various moments of our lives. Images of strapping Morgan into a harness trying to convince her that she wanted to climb with me, Emma and I dressed in Jerseys and black paint under our eyes when we played Powder Puff Football in high school, my hair bozo orange when Joy tried to go blond and I tried to go red, and Lexi and I playing air band outside the Christmas Mountain Community Center. Those were the days of laughter and sisterly love.
My cell phone alarm went off telling me I was late, so I tossed off the covers and placed the scrapbook carefully back in my suitcase before I hopped in the shower hopping to catch Ms. King after church. If I was gonna get out of here tomorrow, I needed to find out if the other girls were willing to have me with them in the Christmas extravaganza. If not, I’d get out of town. If so, I’d figure out how to fly back and forth a few times for rehearsals or online conference in or something.
With a new plan, I walked past the town square. The sound of children squealing and running drew my attention to where the town council was unloading large boxes of decorations. I’d forgotten about the annual tree decorating ceremony tonight. It was always the first Sunday in December.
There’d be hot choco
late and my mother’s homemade gingerbread men. My mouth watered at the thought. I’d tried Gingerbread cookies at local bakeries in the Keys and even in Miami and I hated the spicy flavor. Somehow, my mother’s cookies melted in my mouth and I could still taste the sweetness of them.
People dressed in their Sunday best walked down Main Street headed for Prancer’s Pancake House near the falls. I trudged up the damp sidewalk to Ms. King’s house and rang the bell. No one came to the door, so I turned and headed down the front steps until I heard a squeak behind me. “Ash? Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you this morning. Please come inside.”
I about faced and saw Ms. King in her house robe. Her silver hair wasn’t as shiny and bright as before. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You’re never an intrusion. Please come in and I’ll put some tea on.” Ms. King waved me inside. The place was the same if not worse than the day before. While she put the kettle on, I felt the need to pick up a bit, organizing some old newspapers. A photo caught my eye on the front page of an old Christmas Mountain Herald. My gaze locked on the seven of us, the life-long friendship bond that had only lasted six years. We were all so young and innocent and faithful. Faithful that life ahead would be bright and full of magic.
“That was the day of your sixth-grade extravaganza right before each of you tied your friendship bracelets on.” Ms. King entered the room. Her hands shook under the weight of the tray, so I hopped up and took it from her. “Do you still have your bracelet?”
I shrugged. “Somewhere.” I sat the tray down on the faded ottoman and poured each of us a cup.
“I thought so.” She took her cup and we each sipped on the honey flavored tea. “Why aren’t you wearing it? Not in fashion?” She winked.
I shook my head. “It’s not that. I took it off the night I left. I figured I’d never hear from any of them again, and I didn’t.”
“Why would you think that?” Ms. King asked.
“Like I said, they never called. Of course, I never called them either.”
Ms. King set her cup down and leaned forward. “Hon, most of you girls scattered.”
“They did?”
Ms. King’s mouth dropped into an uncharacteristic frown. The woman was a rock, even when things were tough. “Yes, you all had lives to live.”
Her words prickled as if millions of dead pine needles came to life and attacked me. “I hear Emma’s in Blacktail.”
“That’s right.” Her normal cheer returned to not only her smile but her eyes. “Lexi, Faith, Carol, and Joy will be arriving this month. Morgan’s already here. You’ll all be home for Christmas this year,” she said, her cheer jumping to halleluiah enthusiasm.
“Okay, so I’ll reach out to Emma and Morgan first.” I tried to hide my disappointment. It would be tough to face her or any of the girls, but that’s what I needed.
“I heard you saw Brent again yesterday after you left here. How was that?” Ms. King covered her lips with her tea cup, so I couldn’t see her expression.
“We were only talking about our parents.” I hid my uncertainty with my own teacup. If we kept this up, we’d be on a honey rush for the rest of the day.
“Have you seen your parents?”
“No.” I said faster than a tree trimmer on Christmas Eve. “I did call my mother, though.”
Ms. King sighed. “You should go see your mother.”
“She doesn’t want to see me.”
She blinked several times and leaned back as if exhaustion was taking over. “Tonight, used to be the town tree trimming ceremony, but I’m afraid that is one more disappearing tradition.”
“But I just saw them pulling out decorations in the town square.” I mumbled.
“Yes, but there is no longer a town party, or hot chocolate or cookies. No one goes to help, except, Brent. He does the heavy lifting.”
” Oh, that’s a shame.”
“You should go help him out.”
“No. I think it’s best I don’t.”
You still like him, don’t you?” She yawned, covering her mouth with her swollen hand.
“No. Of course not.”
Ms. King gave me her I-see-through-your-lies-even-if-you-don’t-see-them-yourself look. That’s why I never had tried to lie to her. She would always see straight through it.
“Doesn’t matter how I feel, I’m leaving again tomorrow. I know I promised that I’d sing in the extravaganza, and I will if the other girls say it’s okay for me to be a part of it. I’ll fly back for rehearsal and stuff.”
“You’re still hiding from your feelings? I thought you’d be ready to face them by now.”
“Yes, I had a crush on him. It’s just now isn’t the time. Besides, he isn’t really interested in me. He never was, and his father would never approve. And if there is one thing Brent wants it’s his father’s approval.”
“Has he done anything to indicate he might be interested?”
Flashes of his touch, his gaze, his words all fought for me to have hope, but there wasn’t any. He was flirting at best because he knew I would be gone tomorrow. “No.”
Ms. King nodded. “That’s funny, someone in town saw him holding your hand.”
The town watchers strike again.
“Let me ask you something. Why do you think he held your hand?” She tugged an afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Listen, I don’t mean to be harsh, but I need to say something to you.”
I swallowed and waited for her words.
“Why do you always avoid people getting close to you?”
“I don’t. I was close to all the girls. We were closer than sisters.”
“Let me rephrase. Why don’t you ever want to work at relationships? Why do you always avoid facing things in life?”
“I’ve worked on relationships before.” Even I heard the lie in my words.
“Ash, why do you think the minute doubt creeps into your head you run away?”
I closed my eyes and remembered that night so long ago. “You don’t understand. I almost ruined their lives. I got them arrested because of my stupid need to always be noticed. At least, that’s what Faith said. And the rest of the girls agreed. They were right. I don’t know why I always had to act out like that.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
Ms. King scooted over on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. I stood and sat by her side. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and tucked me into her side. “You always acted out because you felt invisible. The minute I met you I saw how starved you were for your parents’ attention. What you need to understand is that they don’t love you any less than your brothers and sisters, you were just different. Creative, brilliant, exciting, but different. I think if you had a heart to heart with your mother and father, you’d discover a few things about their past that would explain why they didn’t smother you while you were growing up.”
“Like what?”
She released me and held up her hands. “That’s not for me to share. What you really need is to slow down long enough to talk to people. Allow yourself to be vulnerable to possibilities so that you might find happiness.”
I fought the idea of being with Brent, but I couldn’t hide from it any more. Ms. King was right. I had to face things one way or another. If he held my hand, it had to mean something. Didn’t it? The bigger question was, did I want it to?
Six
I sat at a window table at Prancer’s Pancake House and watched the unloading of more Christmas decorations from pick-up trucks. It wouldn’t be long before they did the tree lighting, or would they even do that tonight. It was my favorite part of the holiday, besides helping to wrap presents for children and visiting the senior center.
Old country Christmas songs blared from the jukebox adding to the eclectic Christmas décor. If there was one thing Florida and Montana had in common it was Christmas décor. For every blow, up Christmas Palm tree in Florida there was a bogeying electric Santa
Claus in Montana.
The waitress Lilly tapped her holiday painted nails on the table. “Is your sandwich okay?”
With the image of Ms. King, the thoughts about Clint leaving the business, and having to face how I felt about Brent, I wasn’t hungry. “It’s delicious. I’m just distracted is all.” I nudged the plate away and dropped some money on the table beside the check. “Thanks, though. Have a good afternoon.”
“You, too,” Lilly called after me.
I halted at the edge of the sidewalk without a plan. I’d worked on boats, learned the business, borrowed money, started a company, paid back half, and now I was back here. My eyes betrayed me and scanned up the hill toward the falls. I’d already stepped over the threshold to the past. I may as well go all the way in.
I followed the walkway up the hill toward the spot where we’d had our friendship ceremony beside the falls. My heart ached at the memory of feeling part of something…of a family. It had been my choice to leave, though. It’s what I had wanted at the time.
At the top of the hill, I spotted a woman sitting on the bench next to the falls. Her dark hair was up in a messy twist on top of her head, and her face was buried in her hands.
I thought about retreating so as not to disturb her, but she looked really familiar. Biting my lip, I inched closer to get a better look. She lifted her head. My heart stopped. Even after all these years, there was no denying who the woman was: Morgan Reed.
Morgan had been so prim and proper back in high school. She always wore perfectly pressed outfits—usually pink—her signature white headband, and a smile on her face. Now? She wore dark jeans, black-heeled boots, and a black winter jacket that wasn’t even zipped. Brrr. If I had my coat, instead of it sitting worthless in my car at the impound lot, I’d have it zipped to my chin.
I stared at my old friend as the distant sounds of the town square faded. She sat with shoulders slumped—such an un-like Morgan posture—and her mouth turned downward. I thought about saying something but felt torn. But Ms. King was right. I had to face them sometime, otherwise what was the point? If they hated me, so be it. But I couldn’t walk away again without at least trying to set things right. If she had forgiven me, she would’ve called, despite what Ms. King said. She wasn’t there the night we were all sitting together in a jail cell in silence. Not one of them spoke to me or listened to my constant apologies.
