by Lucy Smoke
Now, we’d inherited a freaking distillery!
I buzzed all over with excitement each time I thought about it, my stomach swirling in anticipation. I expected someone to tell me our trip was a massive joke. According to the lawyer, the distillery was making a decent profit.Please, God, let this be our chance to start fresh and make enough money so I can get Britta a speech therapist and tutor to teach her German. Her condition was related to all the messed-up crap we’d gone through growing up, coupled with her timidness around others, but this was our time to leave the past behind.
The next song on the playlist started, and we both broke out into an upbeat Christmas song as the white landscape around us twinkled beneath the sun.
Around the next bend, a sudden blur shot out in front of the car. Fear gripped my chest, and I slammed my foot on the brakes.
Everything happened so fast. One minute we were singing, now Britta was screaming as the car spun across the road. The biggest deer I’d ever seen darted inches out of the way of being struck by the car.
I spun the steering wheel to control us, but my head whirled with my sister’s cries. Terror raked through me. I pictured us slamming into a tree. Freezing to death out here with no phone reception because I’d stupidly forgotten to buy an international plan for my cell. We’d end up stranded. Eaten by wild animals. Frozen to death.
Another deer appeared out of nowhere, flying toward us with such speed, I screamed. It landed on the hood of our car for a split second, then leaped off.
Our spin slowed. We glided sideways, and both Britta and I lurched with the movement of the car, held in place by the seatbelts.
A loud thud sounded behind us.
My stomach sank to my feet. We whipped forward and back in our seats from the impact. I struck out an arm across her stomach and twisted my head around to see that the backside of the hatchback had slammed into a pine. The world stopped spinning, and I stared outside to find we hadn’t fallen over the edge of the steep cliff running alongside the road.
Fuck, that was so damn close.
“Britta, are you hurt?” I cried out, scanning her face, her arms and body, not seeing any bruises or cuts.
Tears crammed her wide eyes, cascading down her blanched cheeks. She cried into her stuffed toy.
“We’re all right, sweetie.” I leaned toward her, and drew her closer and kissed her head. “We’re safe now.”
Outside were three of the biggest mother freaking deer I’d ever seen, each with enormous, multi-pointed antlers. They had to be close to fifty inches high. They stood several feet away. These weren’t the small kind I’d seen back home. And I was sure these animals ate Santa’s reindeer. Hell, they had to be at least eight feet in height. They towered over me. Covered in a thick white pelt, the animals had dark shading around their ears, eyes, and nose. If I was anywhere except staring at them in the wild, I’d be in awe of their beauty. They were gorgeous. On the plus side, none of them seemed to be bleeding, so I hoped they were okay, or were they pissed that I’d almost hit them? One of them snorted, wisps of hot air floating from its flaring nostrils, while another dug at the dirt with its front hoof.
My heart banged so hard in my chest while Britta trembled in my arm. Would they ram into the car, their antlers breaking the glass and piercing us? God, that would be my luck. Get stabbed to death before I even reached my new home. Not loving your sense of humor, Universe.
Their eyes remained locked on us, and I had no clue what they were doing. The last animal documentary I’d watched had been on great white sharks. Maybe these deer smelled our fear. I hadn’t cut myself, so it couldn’t be blood. Except weren’t they herbivores?
“Sweetie, hold on.” I pushed my sis back into her seat.
“No,” she cried as she clung on to my arm.
Except, when the bigger one with a gray streak across the center of his head stepped forward, I flinched in my seat. He huffed a loud exhale, and hot air streamed from his mouth. In a rush, I shoved the car into drive.
We lurched on the spot, back and forth. The churning sound of the wheels spinning on the spot thrummed through the car.
“Crap!” Please don’t get stuck. Not here.
Britta’s cries grew louder, her grip constricting on my arm.
The deer stared at us, the bigger one tilting its head to the side, and I couldn’t help but think it was such a human gesture. Or did it see us as helpless and was curious how best to attack?
Did these beasts even get vicious with people? Maybe out here in the freezing wilderness we were the enemy?
I slammed my foot onto the pedal, but we weren’t budging. My pulse raced because I was just digging us deeper. I threw the gear into reverse. A horrible metallic sound scraped against my ears as I reversed alongside the tree. We bounced about as the car bunny-hopped, while I tapped the gas pedal until we were free of the pine. Shoving the gear back into drive, I spun the wheel away from the trunk and drove us back onto the road. With my gaze locked on the animals, I jammed my foot on the pedal, and we gunned it past the deer. I pictured them attacking us and trembled.
When I glanced back in the rearview mirror, the trio trotted onto the road, staring our way. Perhaps they didn’t encounter many people in this part of the world. Since we’d entered the mountains, we hadn’t crossed paths with another car. And while I’d put it down to the town being isolated, now I worried I’d made a wrong move and we’d driven god-knew-where.
Yep, we were in the middle of nowhere, and I prayed we’d find a town out here. Hell, what had I been thinking, bringing us out here with no contingency plan?
Reaching over, I held Britta’s hand. “See? Told ya we’d be fine.”
“I think those were real reindeer,” she whispered, twisting in her seat to face me as she wiped her tears with her stuffed toy. Her eyes widened as if she’d seen something, and coldness struck me.
“What’s wrong?” I turned my head to look around the straight road ahead and in the mirrors. We weren’t being followed.
“I think they were Santa’s reindeer.”
Releasing a deep breath, I needed to get a grip. One encounter with the local fauna and I freaked out. We’d lived across the road from a meth lab and pimps. Now if any place was dangerous, that was it and we’d survived. So our new life would just take getting used to.
“I know you don’t believe me, and I said before I didn’t believe in Santa, but now…” Britta huffed, looking out the window, turning away from me. “They saved us from going over the cliff. Did you see that big one jump onto our hood?”
I wasn’t sure I’d ever get that incident out of my mind, but I also didn’t want to scare my sister. Especially when the deer had stepped in front of the car and were the reason we’d crashed in the first place. The look in their eyes wasn’t what I’d call friendly.
But instead, I said, “You might be right.”
2
“We’re almost there,” Britta called out, pointing at the sign we passed on the road.
Hirschheim. Population 780.
“Nothing like a small town, eh?” I nudged Britta. “What do ou want to bet we’ll know everyone within a month?”
She chuckled to herself. “I plan to learn everyone’s name in a week.” She scratched her chin and looked upward, as if pondering the world’s problems. “Would they have a printer store here for my joke book?”
“I’m sure they will. If not, we’ll buy a printer online.” We’d just gained a huge inheritance, and we could afford to splurge once in a while for the first time.
During our previous moves, Britta had cried for a week straight and hidden in her room on moving day. But this time, she’d dragged me out of the apartment. She’d been ready to leave. We both had been. About time something good came our way.
I turned up the volume on the upbeat German song playing on the car radio, along with the heat to keep us warm. We followed the curved road lined with snow-covered pines, and farther ahead a town came into view. The trees th
inned out, giving way for the array of multi-storied wooden houses stretching outward like branches. The land sloped upward, and homes peppered the hill, narrow-winding streets weaving between the buildings. There were no blues or pinks or oranges. Just timber and whites amid the greenery.
“Wow!” Britta said.
I let myself fall under the hypnotic spell of the fairytale we’d entered. More hills surrounded the valley. Was this where we’d be living? In a fantasy world that could pass for Santa’s village? Smoke billowed from most of the chimneys. Wooden planks with fancy carvings covered most windows. We drove down the main road, which was bustling with people. Narrow streets zigzagged in every direction. Quaint storefronts that belonged in a movie slowly replaced the Tudor-style homes. Some were rickety shacks, others made of brick. We passed a huge stone church. The smells of baking and overripe fruit reached us. Words I couldn’t understand covered signs and windows, along with Christmas decorations. Tourists came to locations like this, yet we got that rare opportunity to live here, and I couldn’t stop smiling. It was perfect.
“The estate agent said to turn left on Schnee Straße,” I mumbled to myself, scanning the signs we passed. Britta wasn’t listening. She was looking outside, her hands splayed out on the glass, and her breath fogging up the window. The last time I’d seen her this excited was last Halloween when we’d gone pumpkin picking. We’d saved up money for the trip, and she’d spent hours selecting just the right one for carving.
Now if we could maintain this level of joy, that alone would’ve made this move worthwhile. Maybe we should have relocated to a small town earlier. Sure, I’d left my home and a friend behind, but in all honesty, my job had sucked, and I’d barely made ends meet. Little had kept me in California, and my sister was all I had left in the world. I’d needed this change as much as she had.
I spotted Schnee on the street sign and turned left. Cottage-style homes replaced shop fronts. A picturesque setting and roads perfectly shoveled clean of snow welcomed us. The sky rolled with clouds in hundreds of grays from deep to pale as if they were putting on a show for our arrival. And it was working because butterflies somersaulted in my gut as reality settled in. We were moving here. Hirschheim was our new home!
So why had my uncle lived all the way out here? And had never tried to find Britta and me? Had never tried to be a family with us?
We followed the winding road that curled along the base of the hill towering over us. The houses fell behind as we continued to drive, and now we traveled past open land and skeletal oaks.
“Did we drive past it?” Britta asked.
I shook my head. “The lawyer said the house and distillery building were at the end of the street, and we couldn’t miss them.”
Several minutes later, we curved around a bend where an enormous house rose before us. It was a two-story modern home, unlike the rest of the buildings in this town, all straight lines, with a flat roof, and boxy floor-to-ceiling windows. Iron gates made of twisted rods lay shut in front of the property. Just as the lawyer had said. My stomach turned over. This belonged to Britta and me? Maybe I’d made a mistake and turned down the wrong street? A sign sat on the cobblestone wall surrounding the land, depicting a golden deer’s head.
The Holler Distillery.
“Hey, that’s our last name!” Britta called out.
An excitement buzzed through me. “Yep, it’s our family.” We stared toward the house beyond the driveway, as if this were a royal estate. On a normal day, if I visited this place, I’d leave at once, convinced I’d be turned away.
“Think this is us.” I drove closer to the gate and parked, then climbed out into a frigid cold and tugged the coat around my neck. The chill crept into my bones, and I trembled. I’d never experienced such an iciness before. Hurrying to the gate, I scooped out the keys from my pocket, and stared at the oversized gate with no bolt. Upon closer inspection, I found a slim keyhole and slid the best-fitting key inside and turned.
A little jingling bell sounded, followed by the grunting of a motor. I pulled out the key, and the gates groaned open, sliding sideways, and vanishing into the stone wall on either side.
Beyond lay an endless land, dotted with trees and shrubs. Snowcapped mountains stood guard around the property. Large wooden casks sat in the snow in front of the home, with “Holler Distillery” printed on them. When I eyed the driveway that curled around the house, I saw that it led to a warehouse-style building farther back. The distillery. Trickles of panic slithered through me. What did I know about making whiskey? I worked at a pub and served delicious drinks all the time, but making it from scratch? Never. The lawyer had explained that my uncle, Leon, had a team of workers who ran the whole business. Still, I’d have to get familiar with how everything operated. And worrying wouldn’t help, even if I felt out of my league and feared someone would soon discover how incompetent I was. Hell, I hadn’t even finished high school, so I’d be a laughingstock.
I headed back to the car, where I spotted the side of the car scratched to high hell, the back paneling buckled. Shit! The lawyer had said the car rental was covered, so I hoped that meant any premiums for insurance for the damage.
Britta was gripping the dashboard, looking outside, her smile contagious. Yep, I’d make this work no matter what. Fake it till you make it had been my motto in life so far. So I drove us onto the estate.
Before long, Britta and I stood in front of the grand wooden doors of the house, our bags at my feet. Everything we owned was inside—clothes and a few books. After all this time, I’d learned to travel light and not accumulate anything but the essentials.
If my uncle’s distillery made the money the lawyer had insisted it did, then I wouldn’t need to work or move again. If it didn’t, the house was paid off, so I’d get a job somewhere washing dishes. We had shelter, yet I’d never even owned a car in my life. Now I had this whole distillery.
“What are we waiting for?” Britta rubbed the cold out of her arms.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open. The hinges whispered a groan, as if the house welcomed us inside. We entered an oversized hall, and the cold had leached inside. White walls with tanned beams overhead stretched into the adjacent rooms. To our right stood a simple staircase, running up against the wall with a deep wooden railing curling upward and over our heads to the next level. Simple light fixtures hung from the ceiling—bell-shaped domes. I had expected a chandelier, though nothing in this house was extravagant. More elegant and livable.
Britta giggled and darted into a room, her footsteps echoing behind her.
An icy breeze swept across my back, so I dragged our bags inside before shutting the door. I still couldn’t believe my uncle, whom I’d never known, had left us this house. But I’d seen the papers, had signed them with a lawyer.
Sunlight drenched through the windows, lighting up the home. Black-and-white paintings peppered the walls, and I followed Britta. A tanned animal’s skin covered most of the flooring. My sister lounged on a L-shaped couch with a dozen cushions, overlooking an unlit fireplace.
“We need to get a fire going,” she said, lifting her chin toward the stack of wood inside a metal cage near the wall. “And this is my room. I love it so much.”
Okay, the fire couldn’t be that hard to work out, and if not, there was always Google. “So no bedroom for you then? Who knows what’s upstairs?”
Her eyes widened. She leaped to her feet and sprinted past me, then upstairs. In the next room, I discovered a study. Two of its walls were covered in shelves filled with books, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight. In the middle stood an oak table with a leather chair overlooking the window. Outside lay a yard with mountains in the distance. If Britta claimed the living room, then this would be mine. I strolled deeper and ran my hand across the book spines, many of which were in German. I had a lifetime to learn the language and get acquainted.
Excitement shot through me, and I twirled on the spot. Not only had we gained a house, but it also came
furnished.
I walked over to the desk and picked up a framed photo of an older man with silvery hair standing next to two other silver-haired men, each holding a glass of what I assumed was whiskey. Behind them stood a wall of wooden barrels. The man in the center had familiar eyes, just like my dad’s.
The lawyer had told me that Leon had always been a private man. No family or children of his own. He’d stopped speaking with his brother after a huge argument. My uncle had to have known he had two nieces, yet he’d never reached out to us. Maybe he’d assumed my dad wouldn’t have wanted him contacting us. Had he been worried my parents would have attempted to take money from him? Had he even known they’d wound up in jail? I suppose I’d never know, but that didn’t matter now. The past was over.
“Thanks,” I said to the photo of my uncle, who had the kindest smile. “Thank you for leaving us your home.”
A sudden shriek came from upstairs, and I froze. “Britta?”
When she didn’t reply, I dumped the photo frame on the sofa and bolted out of the room and headed upstairs, taking two steps at a time. “Britta, where are you?” I pictured her fallen somewhere or hell, what if there were squatters sleeping here? Abandoned homes attracted the homeless.
“In here.” Her voice came from my right when I reached the next floor. I ran down the long hallway, passing two open bedroom doors, and burst into the last one.
My heart lodged in my throat as I scanned the area to find my sister reclining on a bed pressed up against the side of the window, faux furs beneath her. She resembled a starfish. Outside lay a postcard view of mountains and an overcast sky. She wasn’t hurt. Hell, I needed to calm down and not jump at everything.
“It’s like I’m sleeping on clouds.” She rolled onto her side, hugging a pillow to her chest. “This is my room.”
