Christmas in East Kansas (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza)

by Regina Smeltzer

  “I know the woods as well as you do.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  Donna poked at the dying fire, spreading the embers before replacing the screen. “Mitch, it’s time for you to go home.”

  “Don’t tell me when to go home!” He stood, his tall frame looming over Donna’s smaller one.

  A contest was beginning: a showdown of the don’t-get-in-my-way Donna versus the I-am-never-wrong Mitch.

  “OK, don’t go home,” Donna said. “I don’t really care, but Olivia and I are going to bed.”

  “Don’t you think Olivia can speak for herself?”

  “I know my friend, and I know she’s had enough of this day. You can beat her up with your words tomorrow just as well as tonight, but if I’m around, don’t try it.”

  He lowered himself onto the couch and draped an arm across the back. “Oh? You think my attempt to bring some sense into her head is abuse?”

  “I think you like being the bully.”

  Olivia swallowed a gasp.

  Mitch’s lips curled into a tight smile. “Oh, I’m a bully now? And on what do you base all these opinions? The hours and hours you have spent with me? And what about you, telling everyone what to do? Does that make you a queen or a nag?”

  Donna’s eyes widened. She stared at Mitch then grabbed the poker propped against the fireplace.

  “Donna!” the plea slipped from Olivia’s lips.

  Donna jerked the metal screen apart, scraped the glowing embers back into a pile, and added a log. Turning, she glared at Mitch. This debate would not end any time soon.

  Olivia trudged up the stairs to bed. She had her own worries about the future, with or without Mitch. Also in the slurry of questions muddling around in her fuzzy brain was, why would Thomas stay on the mountain with a man he claimed to hate?

  16

  Olivia rose in time to greet the sun as it crested the peaks behind the pond. Coffee in hand, she stood at the front window. Miller’s field wasn’t visible, but the tree-covered mountains were. Yet, it was the mountains on the west of town that occupied her thoughts.

  The men said the fire was limited to the old workshop, the ball of flame a result of a propane storage tank exploding. No one seemed worried about the old man, so why had Thomas stayed behind? And why did she care?

  Thomas had deceived her. He’d allowed her to believe they were strangers. And he was the reason the pond was being destroyed. But the Town Council was right. Her family’s legacy was the land, and now the land would provide a road and save the town. That should be enough for her.

  Soft footsteps padded down the stairs and Olivia turned. “Hey, you finally woke up.”

  Donna grimaced. “What time is it anyway?”

  “Time for breakfast.” Olivia chuckled as she stared at Donna’s choice of clothing: jeans and a blue sweatshirt with Rudolph flying across the front. “Sorry I abandoned you to the lion last night. I’m glad you’re still alive.”

  “What? Oh, you mean Mitch!” Donna smiled. “He’s not so bad, really. After I let him know I was his equal or his better in every way, we had a great chat.”

  Olivia grinned. “And he accepted that? You being his better?”

  “Of course.” Donna pushed an unruly red curl from her face. “And unless you need me, he and I are having lunch today to finish our discussion on the merits of e-commerce versus traditional market ventures.”

  “Seriously? You have a date with Mitch?”

  Donna’s eyes rounded. “It’s not a date! I don’t want you to think I’m hitting on your guy.” She gripped fists full of hair. “Oh, man, that’s exactly what it sounds like, doesn’t it? I don’t know what I was thinking. It was late, we both wanted to finish the discussion but…”

  “Donna, it’s OK. Go to lunch with Mitch. He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “I know. He told me that, too.”

  “You talked about me last night?”

  “Just a bit after you went to bed. You looked so sad. He said he wants to help you, but you won’t let him. He tries to flirt with you, hoping you will succumb to his charms. That’s when I laughed, and he took offense.”

  “So this push to give him an answer by Christmas about marrying him is a joke? He doesn’t really have feelings for me?”

  “Of course he’s attracted to you. Look at you. What man in his right mind wouldn’t be? But there’s more to him than that brash exterior you seem to focus on.”

  “And you learned all this in one night?”

  “So, I have three hours until I meet Mitch, as long as you’re OK with it. We’re meeting as intellectual equals, that’s it.” She raised one eyebrow. “So what’s on our agenda?”

  Usually she and Donna would linger over breakfast the day after the party and then tackle the job of cleaning up. But the hotel looked like a party had never happened. Trays were stowed, chairs folded and ready to take back to the church. The queen of the room, the tree, would remain until after the holiday, as would the pine garlands. It still looked like Christmas, even if the magic was gone.

  “Let’s go skating,” Olivia said.

  The pond was crowded, and would be until after New Year’s and the re-opening of school. After that, folks would venture out mostly on week-ends.

  Olivia inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of wood smoke mingled with pine.

  “Hey, Miss Olivia!” An older man skated past. “Nice party last night.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Howard.” Her final party had gone out with a bang, just not as she’d planned.

  A flash of red skated by and returned. “Oh, Olivia. I didn’t expect to see you this morning after all the excitement yesterday.” Hannah Flannigan hesitated and then asked, “Have you heard from our Thomas yet?”

  Olivia’s back stiffened. “Why would I hear from him?”

  “He is staying at the hotel, isn’t he?”

  “Of course.” She tried to shake away her sensitivity. “He hasn’t come back yet.”

  After fifteen minutes of constant questions about the party, the fire, and the contractor, Olivia turned to Donna. “Let’s go back home and make some hot chocolate.”

  As they approached the hotel, Olivia slowed. “Thomas’s truck is gone.” The dented pickup usually sat in the farthest spot along the side of the hotel. Now the position was empty. “He must have come back while we were at the pond.” Her heart deflated.

  “Maybe he’s just running an errand.”

  “He would leave a note.” Olivia tromped up the steps and into the hotel. She scanned the table tops for anything that could represent a message. All the childhood emotions of betrayal and rejection flooded back.

  Olivia waited until Donna left for lunch with Mitch to head to Thomas’s room. She had to clean for the next guest that would never come. Unless she married Mitch, the hotel would close, and no one would miss it except her.

  She opened the door and sucked in her breath.

  17

  The odor alerted her to the change. Thomas’s scent was still in the room, but hidden, secondary. The air smelled heavily of smoke and a trace of body odor unlike Thomas’s.

  The shape on the bed moved. The man’s eyes were closed, his soft snores escalating to a rumble as his body relaxed under the weight of sleep. A deep gash creased his scalp, partially hidden beneath tufts of blood-matted, gray hair. The side of his face looked swollen.

  Olivia clenched her fists. Thomas brought the old man, injured and probably dying, to her hotel and left him! As she turned, she noticed the duffle bag of maps on the floor, the scuffed suitcase resting on the chair, and the picture—the one with the two of them during a happy time—still propped on the nightstand. She closed the door, not sure what to do.

  Muffled voices drifted up the stairs.

  Thomas came down the hall with Dr. Lilly. The man who had been the town physician for all of Olivia’s life remained dapper and active, even now sporting a small sprig of holly on his gray overcoat.

  In contrast, Thomas looked
as if he’d gone to battle and come back barely alive. Bits of twigs and dry grass clung to the black pants he wore to the party. His arms hung heavily at his sides.

  For an instant, she felt sorry for him, until she remembered who was sleeping in his room.

  “Olivia,” Thomas mumbled. “This is Dr. Lilly.”

  “I know Dr. Lilly. I’ve lived here all my life.”

  The men entered the room and closed the door behind them.

  “What the blazes are you doing here, doc?” His words were muffled but clear. The old man was awake and angry.

  After twenty minutes of murmured voices and loud refusals, Thomas beckoned her in. “We have a problem,” he whispered.

  Dr. Lilly sat on the chair beside the bed.

  The old man was propped up with pillows, his arms folded across his chest, the gash on his head covered by what looked like yards of gauze bandaging. He glared at Olivia. “I ain’t going to no nursing home.”

  Olivia’s eyes rounded.

  Thomas’s frown deepened. “You heard the doctor. It will only be for a couple weeks, until you have a chance to recover from the blow to your head.”

  “Mr. Goodman, I just put twelve stitches in your scalp. Thomas says he found you unconscious.”

  “I’m not unconscious now.”

  Olivia hid a grin. She was rooting for the old man. At last, someone else was being told what to do, and he refused to conform.

  Mr. Goodman struggled to sit up, grimaced, and slumped back again.

  “I told you,” Thomas murmured through clenched teeth.

  “Take me home.” This time the old man’s words held less strength.

  “I had to drag you here when you refused to go to the hospital. I’m not dragging you back again.” Thomas threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

  Mr. Goodman’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Olivia. “I’ll stay here.”

  Air huffed from Olivia’s lungs. “I’m not a nurse. And I don’t provide food…you can’t stay here!”

  “This is a hotel, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes, but—”

  “And you accept cash?”

  “I can’t take care of you.”

  “What if I stay?” Thomas asked softly. “I’ll be responsible for him.” His gaze met hers and held. “And I won’t disappear this time. I promise.”

  Dr. Lilly grabbed his coat and walked toward the door. “Let me know if he starts complaining of a headache or nausea.”

  The thin carpet swallowed the sound of the doctor’s footsteps. The outside door closed, only to be opened again.

  “Anyone home?” Donna called.

  Olivia raced down the stairs and grabbed her friend’s arm. “The most awful thing has happened.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “My family’s enemy is upstairs in Thomas’s room!”

  18

  “Thank you for letting me provide supper.” Thomas placed two large carry-out bags from Paulson’s Diner on the kitchen table.

  Olivia glanced at the bags and huffed.

  “I noticed Clara slip in some extra pieces of pie.” He forced a smile, anything to try to break the chill that had formed since he brought his grandfather to the hotel that morning. He’d managed to shower and change his clothes, but the stress of the past twenty-four hours held his body hostage. He needed sleep.

  Donna walked into the kitchen, cell phone pressed to her ear. “I know, Mom. I’ll miss you, too. Tell Sandy and the kids ‘hi’ for me, and I’ll call you when I get home.” She pressed the off button and smiled. “Done. Mmm. Something smells good.”

  “Thomas picked up dinner at Paulson’s.”

  Thomas couldn’t figure out Olivia’s anger. She had a paying guest, which she badly needed. If the old man couldn’t pay, Thomas would make it right somehow.

  She slammed three plates onto the table.

  “I need another plate,” Thomas said. “I have to take food upstairs.”

  Olivia nodded toward the cupboard.

  “So,” Donna said, “I hope you don’t mind another guest for Christmas.” She grinned. “I’m staying until the twenty-eighth!”

  Olivia stared at her.

  “If you don’t want me to stay, I don’t have to. I just thought.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course I want you to stay.”

  Thomas cleared his throat. “I’m taking this tray upstairs. You women don’t need to wait dinner for me.”

  The thought of getting the old man back up the mountain and staying with him in a cold cabin without electricity, running water, or indoor plumbing was too daunting. Thomas could have taken the man back to his apartment, but that didn’t seem to suit, either. The old man’s declaration to stay at the hotel had taken everyone by surprise. He pushed open the door, placed the tray across his grandfather’s lap and settled across from him in the chair.

  “You don’t have to stay. I can feed myself.”

  The spaghetti smelled good, and Thomas wished he had fixed himself a plate. “Just taking a break. I guess Donna, Olivia’s friend, is staying through Christmas.”

  “Your grandma always made me cut the spaghetti into pieces.” Grandfather slid his knife through the pile of noodles and sauce. “Didn’t like me getting my shirt dirty. Now it’s just a habit.” He took a bite. “This is good.”

  “Paulson’s Diner.”

  “Thought so.” He ate several more bites. “About you and Olivia being kin.”

  Thomas ground his teeth. “Not here. Not while you’re a guest in her hotel.”

  “All I wanted to say was that her pa denied getting Marie pregnant even though he—Howard was his name—offered to marry her.”

  “Did he love her?” Thomas knew very little of his mother’s life. She never talked about it, even though she said her childhood was happy enough. Whatever happened between college and his birth remained a black hole.

  “Howard and your ma were best friends all through school. The whole town thought the two of them would end up married.”

  “So why didn’t they?”

  “They went off to college and she came back that first summer and announced she was having a baby.” He wiped his mouth on the paper napkin. “I figured it was Howard’s and went down to talk to the boy and make him accept his responsibilities. The kid acted surprised. Things got out of hand, and his pa asked me to leave.” He gave a dry chuckle. “The end of a rifle convinced me to do as he said.

  “The summer didn’t go well. It seemed your ma and I got on each other’s nerves more than usual. Then your grandma got sick and refused to see a doctor. Your ma kept telling me to take her anyway. I wasn’t about to force the woman to do something against her will, but I regret that now. I had other worries at the time. I kept at your ma to admit Howard was responsible. She kept right on denying it, saying some other guy…”

  His grandfather scraped the spaghetti into a pile on his plate. “I told her I wouldn’t pay for her to go back to school, and she said she wouldn’t stay. She said she was confronting the father and getting married. Her ma was after me to make amends, but I couldn’t forgive a girl who would stray so far from her upbringing.”

  Acid surged in Thomas’s stomach. “And so you let her go, pregnant, and without a job or anything.”

  “I thought the man responsible would marry her, but she never wrote. Your grandma died. Howard finished school and married some dark-haired girl. Before too long Olivia came along. I never knew where your ma was until she showed up that summer with you in tow.”

  Thomas forced his voice to remain calm even though the low opinion he had of the man fell even further. “From what little Mom told me, she met my dad at the library. They were both lonely and one thing led to another. I don’t know why they never got married. She said they didn’t love each other.”

  The old man’s head jerked up. “So Howard really isn’t your father?”

  “No. I’ve seen my dad a couple of times. He teaches hi
gh school math. Mom contacted him after we came home from your house that summer. By then he was married with a couple of kids. He never knew about me until then. We didn’t actually meet until I was fourteen. It felt strange for both of us so we never pushed a relationship.” He looked at his grandfather. “I look just like him.”

  Thomas needed to talk to Olivia, to tell her about the family feud. They had a history together that neither of them knew about.

  “There’s more.” his grandfather said.

  Thomas’s mind couldn’t hold anything else. “Later,” he said. He walked out and closed the door behind him. Rather than going downstairs, he crossed the hall to the room he now occupied, Room Eight. A large window faced the west mountains, the mountains that laid claim to more of him than he wanted to admit. He could just distinguish the outline of the peaks against the night sky. In contrast, the houses behind the hotel glowed with colored lights—none of the all-white bulbs like back home. In East Kansas it was color all the way. He tugged open the window and felt the sharp coldness against his skin.

  There was no returning to the life he had a little over a week ago. He could no longer survive alone, could no longer ignore the woman who haunted his dreams. He forgot supper, the dirty dishes on the tray, even his boots, as he sprawled across the bed.

  19

  Olivia sat on the bench embracing the darkness of the pond. It was Christmas Eve, and she needed some time alone.

  Donna was content to stay in by the fire, reading a book.

  Thomas spent most of his time running up and down the stairs, keeping his grandfather from becoming a problem.

  She hadn’t seen the old man since the day the doctor stitched his head.

  Everyone she met said Merry Christmas, but with an underpinning of sadness. Word had gotten out that she would be leaving town. Leaving her way of life. Her family’s dreams. Mr. Dixon, true to his word, had gotten back to her. There were no jobs, but he would keep looking.

  The metal drums sat cold, the fire long extinguished. The lights that decorated the pond were dark; all the happy people who skated on her family’s pond were home for the night. She wondered how many more times she would skate on the frozen surface before the demolition began. Thomas planned to move some of his equipment to East Kansas next week, and start re-arranging the landscape after the first of the year.