A Miracle in Far Haven by Diane Burton

A Miracle in Far Haven

Part 3 

Unable to believe the news, Tess clung to her cell phone long after Father Mark hung up. He’d offered the church’s basement for her fundraiser. When she pointed out she wasn’t a member of St. Mark’s, he said the community helps each other.

Quickly, she lettered a sign to add to the “closed indefinitely” notice on the front door, instructing those who came for the fundraiser where to go. With Eric’s help, they brought up the food from the basement. He insisted on carrying the stock pots of chili and told her to bring the muffins. Before she could head downstairs again, a knock on the back door stopped her.

Gabe.

After Dean Rider’s announcement about Gabe saving Miss Nickleson’s life, she’d wondered what he’d been doing since he left Far Haven on his Harley to see the world. She’d envied his freedom back then, while knowing she couldn’t live like he wanted her to.

Regrets that she hadn’t left with him? Some, though she’d never admit it.

“Did you want something?” she asked.

“Stopped by to see if you need any help?”

“No, that’s okay, We can—”

“Man, am I glad to see you.” Eric panted as came up out of the basement. “I need help. There’s one more pot in the refrigerator.”

“Good.” Gabe’s grin caught her unawares. Despite the fact that they were twenty-five years older, that so much had happened to them during that time, his infectious smile still made her heart flutter.

While he and Eric trooped downstairs, she started loading up a rolling cart with the food to take to the church.

“Good God, woman. What are you doing?” Gabe stopped her from lifting a stock pot. “Leave that for us.”

“Yeah, Ma. Leave the heavy lifting for us guys.”

“Smart aleck.” Tess ruffled Eric’s hair.

“Now what?” Gabe asked.

“Now, we load my van.”

Once the food was loaded in her truck, the cart as well, Eric looked from Tess to Gabe. “See you guys at St. Mark’s.” Then, he took off on his bike, pedaling like crazy.

“He could’ve ridden with us,” Gabe said as he slid into the passenger seat. He looked behind him. “Oh.”

Tess chuckled. “Yeah. No seat.”

At the church, where Eric waited, they again loaded the cart. She thanked the church’s congregation for installing an elevator.

When they returned to the van for the next trip, a truck from the local grocery store pulled up.

“You Tess Visser?” the driver said. “Where do you want this?” He pointed to crates of produce.

“This is a mistake. I didn’t order—”

“No mistake. Sign here.” He handed her a clipboard.

Meanwhile, Gabe talked to another man who wheeled the crates inside.

“My invoice?” She wasn’t sure how she could pay for the much needed produce.

“No invoice.”

As soon as that truck left, another truck from the largest mega-store in the area with more food. Again, no mistake. No invoice, either.

“I can’t believe this,” she said to Gabe downstairs. “We have fruit, vegetable, drinks, desserts.”

“Word gets around. What can I do to help now?” While she protested, he looked around. “Give me an apron.”

“Ma, do you need me? I got something I have to do.” Not waiting for an answer, her son took off.

“Now you really need me.” Gabe grinned.

Overwhelmed by the donations of food, Tess could only hand him an apron and tell him how to clean vegetables. While pots of chili heated on the stove, they worked together in companionable silence in the enclosed church kitchen with its metal tambour shutter covering the serving window.

“Are you really a doctor?” she asked.

“I am, indeed, but I still know my way around a kitchen. By the way, they caught the vandals. A couple of kids who live at the homeless shelter.”

“What?” She stopped chopping veggies. “The fundraiser was for them. And all the families at the shelter. Why would they destroy all the good work people had done for them?”

“Deputy Dawson got them to admit they were mad at their parents for losing their jobs and then their homes. Anger and resentment had festered until they exploded and took it out on the café. They’ll be doing a lot of community service, including helping serve the dinner.”

As they worked side-by-side, she learned where he had been since they parted all those years ago. At first, he’d been reluctant to talk about his life until she shared hers. Whether it was the intimacy of the warm kitchen or his nonjudgmental manner, she told him about life with her former husband, her joy when Eric was born, her grief when Ken died, and her anger at him for his foolish disregard for them.

“He didn’t give you the stability you wanted.” Gabe’s voice was neutral, no hint of smugness. Without asking, he began washing fruit.

“At first, yes. Later . . .” She wobbled her hand. “Looks like I chose the wrong guy.”

“No. I had to grow up, as you put it when we parted.”

Like trying to get her son to divulge his “secrets” Tess eventually got Gabe to talk about his stint in the Marines, tours in Afghanistan, being a medic, eventually becoming a doctor—just like his father wanted.

“Your dad has never forgiven me for throwing you over,” she said.

“He thought you would cure my wildness.” That grin again, gray eyes twinkling.

“He told me I made a big mistake rejecting you. Then he never talked about you in front of me.” She’d wondered about that as she learned more about Gabe. “I’m surprised he didn’t brag about you becoming a doctor.”

“He was angry at me for not coming straight home and joining his practice.” He cleared his throat. “What’s next?”

“Hang on. Why didn’t you?”

“He didn’t understand my need to be independent. You know how it is to work with your parent.”

She did, indeed. From a young age, she’d worked in the family restaurant. Responsibility without authority grated on her until her dad retired.

As they talked, she became aware of noise in the outer room. At first, she thought people were setting up tables and chairs. When it sounded like more people, her curiosity got the best of her.

“What is going on out there?” She wiped her hands on her apron.

“Wait a sec.” Gabe lifted the tambour shutter.

Tess gasped.

She ran out of the kitchen. She couldn’t believe what she saw.

“Isn’t this great?” Eric waved at stacks of gifts under a decorated tree. He named several stores. “They donated toys to replace the trashed ones. And clothes for kids and grownups.”

The decorations made the basement festive. The owners and staff from the other two restaurants had brought serving stations. The managers told Tess she was in charge. They were ready to help.

Word of mouth, the local newspaper, flyers posted everywhere advertised the free holiday meal plus a visit from Santa himself.

“H-How . . .” She stepped back into Gabe.

He held her elbows and drew her closer. “The community thought so much of your idea everybody pitched in.”

“Thanks to you, big guy.” Alex O’Hara, who’d taken over her dad’s investigation agency, punched him in the arm.

Tess turned to face him. “You organized this?”

While heat crept up Gabe’s neck, Alex said, “He is a great arm-twister. You shoulda seen him earlier. Who could say no?”

Father Mark came up. “We have hungry diners lining up outside. Let’s get this show on the road.”

With help from the other restaurants plus Tess’s crew, the food was set up and the lines began. Though happy that her dad’s fundraiser was helping so many, Tess was overwhelmed by everything Gabe and the others had done. She had to get away before she broke down in tears. She raced to find the restroom. Gabe followed her.

“Are you okay?” He stopped her outside the ladies.

That concern pushed her over the edge. Tears streamed down her cheeks. When a sob shook her, he pulled her into his arms. No words. He just held her as she soaked the front of his shirt. Finally, she got herself under control.

“I don’t know what to say, Gabe. You’ve done so much. You aren’t the man I thought you would be.”

“A wastrel?” His mouth curved into a wry grin. “Good-for-nothing? Ne’er do well?”

“I never called you those names.”

“No. Others did. And they were right, especially my dad.”

“Not now. You are a good man, Gabriel Summer. An angel in disguise.” She stroked his cheek.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I did what anyone would do, what others have done for a member of the community. A community I’m proud to be a member of.”

“You mean you’re staying?” she asked.

“Yep. I’m staying.”

“There you guys are.” Eric dashed up to them. “Hurry up. Santa’s coming.”

When they walked back into the dining room, Santa was “Ho-ho-ho-ing” and kids were cheering.

Smiling broadly, Eric hooked his arms into Gabe’s and Tess’s. “This is what a Christmas miracle looks like.”

~ End ~

I hope you enjoyed “A Miracle in Far Haven.” Come back tomorrow for R.E. Mullins’ story "All Holidays Matter."

Far Haven, Michigan is the location for Diane Burton's Alex O'Hara mystery series. Like the characters in her story, Diane and her husband live in West Michigan. They have two children and five grandchildren who all live nearby. For more info and excerpts from her books, visit Diane’s website: http://www.dianeburton.com

A Miracle in Far Haven by Diane Burton

A Miracle in Far Haven

Part 2 

  

While Deputy Dawg checked out the building, customers gathered around Tess on the sidewalk. She’d told the story of what happened enough times to engrave it on her brain. Not that she’d ever forget. The “oh, dears” and “aw, shits” resounded in the cold, clear air. Finally, Dawg told her she could go in. He needed a list of what had been taken and destroyed.

She would deal with that later. First, she had to clean up her restaurant and salvage what she could. “Folks,” she called out to get the small group’s attention. “I can’t open today. I am so sorry. I can’t—” She broke off on a sob.

Gabe came up to stand next to her. “If we all pitch in, we can get the job done quickly.” When several people nodded, he turned to Tess. “Put on the coffee. We’re going to need some.” He gave her the quirky smile that made his gray eyes scrunch up, just like she remembered.

“I’ll be right back with brooms,” Gloria Jansen called out then headed down the street to her bookstore.

“Ditto.” Abby Ten Eyck waved as she turned left toward her gift shop.

Meanwhile, Gabe led the others into the café, leaving Tess standing outside with her mouth hanging open.

As people pushed tables aside, Eric followed Gabe’s instructions to bring out trash containers, brooms and dustpans, even the snow shovels. As much as she disliked being ordered around in her own place, Tess followed suit.

Shirt sleeves rolled up, Gabe gave out orders like a drill sergeant. This from the rebel whose lackadaisical attitude had forced her to chose Ken over him. As she worked side-by-side with fellow shopkeepers and townsfolk, she thought about the irony. She’d loved the wild boy, but Gabe couldn’t promise her the solidity she needed after her parents’ contentious divorce. The man who promised her that stability had reinvented himself during a mid-life crisis, crashed his newly-purchased motorcycle, and left her a widow and Eric without a father.

“Looking good,” Gabe said as he hitched his hip on a stool at the counter. He’d already refilled his mug with what she thought was his fifth or sixth coffee.

When Gloria saw that the coffee machines had been smashed, she again ran back to her bookstore for her coffeemaker. Someone went down to the bakery and brought back pastries. With so many people working together, the debris was gone, floor and tables cleaned. Word of the destruction spread. Ed Morrison brought sheets of plywood from his hardware store. He and Gabe nailed the plywood over the broken windows.

“I’m not sure good is the right word. I can’t prepare food here, even if I had any. The fundraising dinner was supposed to be here.” Close to tears again, Tess straightened from her slouch against the counter. “The basement.”

She tore through the kitchen. She unlocked the door next to the walk-in cooler and raced down the stairs. Clomping behind her, Gabe followed. “Nobody would know this was here.”

“Good thing.” She opened the auxiliary refrigerator. “Thank goodness. The chili is here.” Then, she yanked open the freezer and sighed in relief. “The cornbread muffins, too.”

“So, what’s the problem? This food is okay, right?”

“There's too much destruction. I'm sure the health inspector wouldn’t allow food prep or service.” She leaned against the refrigerator. “I have food and nowhere to serve it. I might just as well forget the fundraiser.”

Strong hands on her shoulders, Gabe turned her around. “When did you get so defeatist? The Teresa Barnes I used to know would never give up.”

“The Teresa Barnes you knew is long gone. No more starry-eyed optimist. Tess Visser is a realist.” She headed up the stairs.

When they got upstairs, she thanked everyone for their help. “I can’t tell you how much what you’ve done means to me. When the café opens, you and your families are welcome to a free dinner.”

As her friends, neighbors, and fellow shopkeepers left, they all patted her shoulder or offered words of sympathy. Once again, she found Gabe half-sitting on a stool at the counter, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Thanks for your help, Gabe. What are you doing here?”

“Drinking coffee.” He held up the mug. “You always did make good coffee.”

“I meant why did you come here this morning? It isn’t like we were open at four.”

He shrugged. “I was heading home and saw the lights on. I needed a cup of coffee.”

“Home? At four in the morning? You still like to party all night?”

His eyes clouded for a moment. “Yeah. Something like that.” He stood. “Thanks for the coffee.”

As he walked out the door, her chef Wes came up next to her. “That Gabe Summer. Man, was he a help.”

“Eric,” she called. “It’s almost nine. Get to school.”

“Mo-om, it’s vacation.”

She thunked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Sorry, kid.”

“’S all right.”

“About Gabe?” Wes repeated. “He’s different.”

“Not really. Still stays out all night partying.”

“That isn’t what I heard.” Dean Rider had come up behind her. “He took Jane Nickleson to the ER in Holland last night.”

“What? What happened to her?”

Miss Nickleson had been Tess’s and everybody’s history teacher for forty-some years. A tough, old bird who put up with no nonsense.

“She had a heart attack. Once she was stabilized, he stayed with her. Then, they brought in a kid who’d been in an accident. Nobody from here. I heard he tried to help but the kid died.”

“What do you mean he tried to help?” she asked.

“He’s a doctor, you know. Came back to take over his dad’s practice.”

* * *

After Gabe got into his SUV, he sat there for several minutes, eyes closed, his head resting against the window. Partying all night. That’s how she still thought of him. A wild kid with no rules, no ambition. Since he hadn’t stayed in touch, of course she’d think that.

Damn, that kid’s death hit him hard. Twenty-five years ago, that could’ve been him, tearing around on his motorcycle popping wheelies, ignoring everything his dad had drummed into his head not to do. No wonder Teresa—Tess—refused to go away with him.

“Let’s go see the world,” he’d said, patting the seat of his Harley. “No cares, no worries. Just you and me, kid.”

He hadn’t realized then what he did now. How scared she was of no direction. But, damn, he sure hadn’t wanted the life his dad outlined for him. An ironic laugh burst out of him. His dad had gotten his way after all.

A knock on his window jerked Gabe out of his reverie. Dean Rider made a roll-down motion, despite the fact that nobody had crank car windows anymore.

“You okay, there, Gabe?”

He opened the window. “Yeah. Must have dozed off.”

“How’s Jane? Will she be okay?”

Miss Nickleson, the history teacher whose class nobody wanted, had seen his potential and given him the best advice ever. Join the Marines. They’d make a man of him.

“She’ll be all right.”

“Good thing you were there when she started having pains. You saved her life.”

As he did each time he came back to Far Haven, he’d stopped in to see his mentor. CPR, the ambulance ride, the helplessness pacing the ER, then the teen. His heart weighed him down that he couldn’t save the kid.

“You look done in, boy.” Dean was still talking. “You need to get home and get some sleep. Good thing you did in there.” He jerked his head toward the café. “Organizing everybody like you did. Tess is mighty grateful to you.”

Gabe let his mouth curve in an ironic smile. “I’m sure she is. See you later.”

He had one more thing to do before getting some much-needed sleep.

I hope you are enjoying "A Miracle in Far Haven." Come back tomorrow for the conclusion.

A Miracle in Far Haven by Diane Burton

 A Miracle in Far Haven

Part 1

“Pulling that off will take a Christmas miracle.”

Tess Visser glanced over her shoulder at her smart-aleck son, who was pointing to the banner over the café’s kitchen window: A Christmas Miracle Fundraiser. The community fundraiser that was supposed to take place in twelve hours. Here. In her café.

Leave it to fifteen-year-old Eric to make light of the devastation confronting them. Instead of entering the through the back door, as she usually did, she'd come in from the street, intending to make it easier on Eric to clear the sidewalk. She'd flipped on the main lights, adding to the security lights that dispelled the four a.m. darkness. Two paces in, she’d stopped so suddenly, Eric plowed into her back. Toys were smashed and strewn about the café. Wind blew snow across tables through the shattered side windows.

Chairs had been smashed against tables, bending, cracking. Heart sinking, she rushed to the kitchen, again flipping on lights. More devastation there. The door of the walk-in refrigerator stood wide open. Same with the freezer. Packages of meat, fruit, vegetables had been thrown on the floor, tables, and against the walls. The waste was unimaginable.

Stunned. So stunned she couldn’t speak. Or stand. Her legs turned boneless. As she held onto the wall, she slid to the floor. Who could’ve done such a thing? Why? Who could be so angry at her? Why today of all days?

“Mom?” Eric’s panic barely penetrated the fog in her brain. “Mom?” He cried out, louder this time, as he stooped next to her.

“Problems?” A male voice came from the street door. “Good Lord, what happened here?”

That voice. She knew that voice. Even after twenty-five years, that deep baritone still made her insides quiver.

Pushing out thoughts of the man she almost ran away with, she recalled the reason she was sitting on the floor. Tess couldn’t believe the destruction. The townsfolk had trusted her with their donations. Gifts, food, everything. Destroyed.

Oh God, the donation jar. Had she emptied it last night?

“Please, mister. Help me. My mom just collapsed. She won’t talk.”

Tess saw the empty jar, or bits of it, on the floor. Money gone. As if the vandals hadn’t done enough, they took the donations.

“All right. Let me see.” A large hulk of a man stooped next to Eric. His heavy black wool coat flared out around him as he knelt on one knee. When he picked up her hand, he smelled of antiseptic. Smells from a hospital, smells of sickness and death, reminding her of her dad.

“I’m all right.” She struggled to rise, but with two men on either side of her, she had no place to go.

Before she could scramble away from them, strong arms easily lifted her up. She remembered those arms, had fantasized about them around her when she was an idiot teen. And later when she’d melted into them.

Tess edged out of his arms. “Please go away.”

“Mo-om,” Eric groaned. “He’s here to help. You fainted.”

“I did not faint.” She backed away from the one person she never thought she’d ever see again. “Go away, Gabriel Summer.” Leave me to deal with my misery alone.

“Hello to you, too, Teresa Barnes.”

“Visser,” Eric corrected him. “Her name is Tess Visser. Who are you?”

“A royal pain. Go away, Gabe. I have a mess to clean up.”

He surveyed the kitchen before turning around to look at the café itself. “Did you call 911?” he asked. When they both shook their heads, he ordered them outside. “On the sidewalk. Both of you. Then call the police.”

After hooking her arm, he frog-marched her out to the sidewalk.

“What are you doing? I—We have work to do in there.” Tess dug in her booted heels to stop his forceful action. She shouldn’t have wasted her energy. The guy she knew as a lanky nineteen-year-old had filled out into a hard- muscled man.

“Not until we know for sure nobody is still inside. Stay here. I’ll secure the premises.” He left them out there in the dark and cold. After two long strides, he turned and stared hard at her. “I mean it, Teresa. Stay out here. You—” He pointed to Eric. “Keep your mother out here.”

“Yes, sir.” Eric never responded like that. He clutched his cell phone to his ear. “Yes, Miz Rose, it’s an emergency. There’s been a break-in at Main Street Café. Okay. No. We’re outside, but this guy went in to check. I don’t know. Some guy my mom knows, Gabriel Summer.”

The dispatcher squealed so loud Tess heard it from two feet away.

“Mom, Miz Rose says he needs to get out of the building.”

At the same time, a siren blared close by. That was quick. Since the Public Safety building was only over a couple of blocks, it didn’t take long for a police car to pull alongside the snow-covered curb. Deputy Ron Dawson stretched his short legs out of the squad car, then reached inside for his hat, which he promptly seated on his head with self-importance. He hitched up his utility belt, straightened his shoulders to appear taller, and strolled up to her on the sidewalk.

Tess groaned. Deputy Dawg. Far Haven’s Barney Fife. To think she babysat him when he was a toddler.

“What have we here?” He looked around. “Dispatch said a break in?”

“Vandals. They destroyed everything.” Tess shivered in her parka, hat, and boots, her heart breaking. She’d organized the fundraiser to help the homeless in memory of her father, her predecessor as owner of the café who’d passed away last Christmas. He said those who had needed to share with those who didn’t. Each Christmas Eve, they'd closed the restaurant and cooked for the rescue mission.

“Anyone inside?” The deputy rested his hand on the butt of his weapon.

Tess returned her mind to the present. “Gabe Summer went inside to look around.”

“Summer? What’s he doing back in town?”

“Is that relevant, Deputy? Vandals tore my restaurant apart. They wrecked—” She broke off on a sob. Eric put his arm around her shoulder in an awkward hug.

“Wait here.” The deputy drew his revolver before cautiously walking into the café.

“Be careful,” she called after him. “Don’t shoot Gabe.” She might have wanted to years ago, but she’d gotten over that.

Come back tomorrow for Part 2 of "A Miracle in Far Haven."

http://www.dianeburton.com/

Merry Christmas from the Roses of Prose

We hope everyone is enjoying this year's Christmas stories. Please visit us tomorrow for part one of Diane Burton's contribution, A Miracle in Far Haven. From all of us at the Roses of Prose, we wish you and yours a very merry Christmas!

The Joy Fairy Part 3 by Alicia Dean

Christmas Day

In spite of having slept only a few hours, Persephone woke at six a.m., her adrenaline spiking with excitement. She and Tripp had gotten home late and spent what remained of the night working. She was exhausted, but it was going to be worth it.

Slipping into Brielle’s room, she gently jiggled her shoulder.

Brielle blinked sleepily. “Whatsa matter?”

“I have something to show you. Let’s go.”

Brielle climbed from bed, the ruffled hem of her flannel nightgown bunching around her legs. “You’re here early.” Brielle slipped her small hand into Persephone’s, and a warm rush of belonging, of right, swept through Persephone. Leaving them, whether to return to the statue or not, would be torment.

At the top of the staircase, the flash of multi-colored lights reflected off the wall. Brielle rubbed her eyes. “What’s that?” Pleasure sparked on her face, quickly replaced by anger. “No, no!” Her panicked gaze flew to Persephone, and she jerked her hand away. “Did you do this? You have to get rid of it before Daddy sees!”

“I’ve already seen.” Tripp stepped into the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, his white teeth flashing in a brilliant smile. “And, we both did this.”

“Come on,” Persephone whispered, once more claiming Brielle’s hand.

When they descended, Brielle looked into the living room, and her face lit more brightly than the seven-foot tree. She stared up at Tripp. “Why?”

He touched her head in a gentle caress. “Because I miss Christmas, and I miss seeing you enjoy it.”

“But won’t it make you sad, Daddy?”

He picked her up and settled on the sofa with her in his lap. Persephone remained in the doorway, watching.

“I’ll always be sad your momma is gone, but she loved you, loved Christmas. I think this will make her happy, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Brielle nodded vigorously and pointed to the presents. “How did Santa know we were doing Christmas?”

Persephone joined them, smiling. “Santa knows everything.”

Brielle studied her for a moment, her mouth twisted, as if unsure whether to believe her or not. Then, she shrugged and grinned. “I guess he does.”

Tripp put her on her feet. “What are you waiting for? Dig in.”

Brielle had just opened her last gift when Minerva arrived. Her presence dampened Persephone’s happiness, but at least she’d accomplished her goal. And now, she could do whatever she wanted. She was free. Maybe, even though it was originally a ruse, she could stay on as Brielle’s nanny. The thought of leaving them was agony. She and Tripp may never become romantically involved, but she couldn’t imagine her life without him or Brielle.

“Wonderful!” Minerva gushed as Brielle proudly displayed her gifts. “How about Percy and I go whip up some breakfast?”

“Pancakes?” Brielle lisped through the gap in her teeth.

“Absolutely.” Minerva kissed Brielle’s cheek, then looked at Persephone. “Shall we?”

Once the kitchen door closed, Minerva took Persephone’s hands. Persephone’s instinct was to withdraw, but the woman was Tripp’s mother, Brielle’s grandmother, and she really had seemed to change.

“Thank you so much, my dear. This is more than I could have hoped for. You need never fear me again. You are free.”

“I was thinking…maybe I could stick around.”

Minerva’s dark brows drew together. “Why?”

Percy tried to keep her face neutral, but she could feel a smile stretch her cheeks. “To stay on as Brielle’s nanny.”

Minerva studied her with narrowed eyes. “I know what that expression means. You’re in love with Tripp.”

Persephone’s cheeks heated. “I don’t know him well enough to be in love.  But, I’m crazy about him. And, I think he likes me too. I want to stay, get to know him better. And I can’t bear the thought of leaving Brielle.”

Minerva began shaking her head before Persephone stopped speaking. “No, oh no, that’s not happening. You can’t. Not only might he find out who you really are, who I am, but he doesn’t need to be hurt again.”

“I would never hurt him, never tell him the truth. I’m not saying we’ll become involved. But, Brielle has gotten attached to me. I don’t think another loss right now is good for her.”

Minerva’s mouth contorted into a snarl. “Don’t pretend you’re doing this for her. You want my son for yourself.” Her dark eyes ignited with flames of rage. “He doesn’t need someone like you. He needs a real woman he can have a real relationship with.”

The words stabbed like icicles in her heart. As much as she hated Minerva for saying it, she couldn’t deny the truth.

Minerva gripped her arms and glared into her face. “If you don’t go, I’ll cast you back into the statue. And you will never be free again.”

Persephone jerked away. Tears welled in her throat, and she tried to speak, but failed. Her heart was shattered, her limbs weighted with agony. Either way she lost Tripp and Brielle. All she could manage was a nod.

Minerva’s expression was cold, unsympathetic. “I’ll tell them goodbye for you. It’s best if you just go.”

Persephone wanted to argue that she should say goodbye, but that would just be more difficult, for all of them. And, she might break down and tell Tripp the truth. Which would be disastrous. She’d go back to her cheap motel and figure out what to do for the rest of her life. She had her freedom, but if she could go back into the statue and not feel this ripping, searing pain, she’d gladly reside there for eternity.

~*~

Minerva went into the living room to call Brielle and Tripp in for breakfast. Their laughter thrilled her soul, and she smiled. All was well. 

Tripp looked up then glanced past her, his lovely green eyes dancing with merriment. “Where’s Percy?”

“She had to go,”

The merriment faded from his face. “Oh, I thought she’d spend the day with us. Will she be back later?”

“I’m afraid not. She asked me to tell you that she had another offer. She wished she could give you notice, but she had to take the job now. It’s a great opportunity.”

His shoulders slumped. “What? You’re not serious?” His voice was ragged, sounding unsettlingly close to the way it had after Shana died. “She couldn’t even say goodbye?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Brielle until you find a replacement.” Minerva tried to sound reassuring, but from the pain on his face, she knew he wasn’t bothered about losing a nanny.

He nodded, but his mouth settled into grimness, and his eyes glittered with a damp sheen. Were those tears? Could he possibly have feelings for Persephone? Surely not. He was much too good for that girl. Even if he did care for her, it didn’t matter. He’d get over her soon enough. He’d only known her a few weeks.

Tripp turned his attention to Brielle and watched her play with her toys, a forced smile fixed on his face.

Minerva touched his shoulder. “Son, are you okay?”

He drew in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “I know it’s crazy, but I was starting to…feel something for her. For the first time, I felt like I might…I don’t know, fall in love again.”

A vice squeezed Minerva’s chest. So, it was true. She tried to infuse her voice with just the right amount of encouragement and nonchalance. “Well, dear, of course you will. But that doesn’t mean with Percy. There are a lot of women out there. You’ll meet the right one.”

He gave his head a quick shake. “None of them will make me feel the way Percy did.”

His words punched a hole in Minerva’s heart. Her only goal had been to make her son and granddaughter happy, and now he was crushed. She’d finally ensured they had joy, then immediately stole it from them.

~*~

Percy sat on the park bench near the angel statue where she’d resided for a century. She wasn’t sure why she’d come. Maybe she was a masochist.

An enormous sparkling Christmas fir towered over the frozen pond, but the stars in the velvety night sky were brighter and more beautiful than the lights of the tree. She wished she could appreciate the wonder, the winter scents in the crisp evening air. But not even knowing she was free could lift her spirits. Freedom meant little when you’d lost everything else.

“You’ll freeze to death.”

She jumped to her feet and whirled, her heart climbing to her throat. “Tripp? What are you doing here?”

The winter wind tousled his blond hair, and snowflakes dotted his dark coat like diamonds. “Looking for you.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he paused while her heartbeat boomed loudly in her ears, “I don’t want to lose you.”

She squelched the urge to break out in song, to fling herself into his arms and never let go. Instead, she looked down, studying a snow-dusted acorn at her feet, then drew in a breath and lifted her head. “You’ll find another nanny. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

He grinned and shot a gaze around the park. “Apparently, you didn’t have to go far.”

Her cheeks warmed. “I do. I was just, taking a breather before I head to the motel to pack.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “I see. What if I told you I knew the whole truth?”

“About what?”

“About why you left. About why you came here in the first place.”

Fear trickled through her. How had he learned? “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I really need to go.” She turned to hurry away, but his voice stopped her.

“My mother told me everything, Persephone.”

She halted and slowly faced him. “What did you call me?”

He rounded the bench and caught up to her. “Isn’t that your real name? Persephone? The name you used as a Joy Fairy?” He looked up at the statue. “And isn’t that where you’ve spent the last hundred years” He barked out an incredulous laugh. “At first, I didn’t believe her, but she…demonstrated her powers. As crazy as it sounds—fairies, magic, curses—I had to believe.” He shook his head. “To think, I was here so many times, and you were right there…in captivity. And I couldn’t help.”

Her legs weakened. “She really told you. Why?”

“Because, her love for me was stronger than her fear of the consequences. She saw I was miserable and wanted me to know the truth about the woman I’m falling in love with.”

Persephone shook her head. “This is unbelievable. She—“ His words sank in, and she jerked her gaze to his face. “Did you say…falling in love?”

“I did.” He took her hands, tugging her close to his warm body. “I think you feel something for me too. Maybe you could stick around, and we could see where this goes?” A grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “If, that is, the other job can do without you.”

A laugh caught in her throat. Her heart was so full, she couldn’t speak. But she didn’t need to, because his lips touched hers, sparking so much heat she feared it would melt the snow around them, and she kissed him back, finding her Christmas joy in the miracle of his touch.

Please keep reading for Diane Burton's Christmas story - I'm sure it will be fantastic! Thank you for joining us. These Christmas stories are always so much fun, and we love sharing them with you and hopefully bringing you some extra holiday cheer. A very Merry Christmas to you and yours and blessings for 2018.

www.AliciaDean.com

The Joy Fairy Part 2 by Alicia Dean

Persephone took a shaky step away from Tripp. She was afraid he’d touch her, and she’d go to pieces. The room shrank around her, cutting off her breath. Her mind exploded with questions. Did Tripp know? Was he a part of this sick game?

Voices came to her, his and Brielle’s, asking what was wrong, but she couldn’t respond, couldn’t focus on anything other than the evil creature in front of her.

“I’ll help her,” Minerva told Tripp, then grasped Persephone’s arm. “Come, dear, let’s put a cold cloth on your head.” Persephone didn’t protest as Minerva led her into the bathroom. Once behind closed doors, the Sorrow Fairy wet a wash cloth and pressed it to Persephone’s forehead.

Persephone shoved it away. “I don’t need that. What I need are answers. What are you doing here? Is Tripp part of this?”

Minerva cut a look to the closed door. “Keep your voice down. He knows nothing about who we are.” Her tone was level, not menacing as Persephone was accustomed to.

“Then, what’s going on? How did you trick him into thinking you’re his mother?”

“I am his mother.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It was during the Christmas season, thirty-five years ago.” Minerva played with the edges of the wash cloth as she spoke. “I was visiting a hospital—“

Persephone’s lip curled. “No doubt to spread poison to the souls of the weak and sick.”

Minerva grimaced without acknowledging the comment. “I found a baby on the stoop outside the hospital doors. My heart just…melted. One look, and I fell in love. That baby was Tripp. I decided to become human and raise him as my own.”

Joy Fairies and Sorrow Fairies resided at the North Pole year round, but just before Christmas, they traveled to various cities and towns, each set on their particular tasks. They could choose to become human at any time, but once they made that choice, they could never go back.

Persephone arched a questioning brow. “If you are human, how did you release me from the statue?”

“I retained my powers, but only related to acts I’d previously performed. You were a loose end, you might say.”

Was it possible she’d changed? Persephone studied the gracefully aging woman. Her dark hair was streaked with gray, the classically beautiful face now delicately lined at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth. She wore designer glasses and an elegant black pantsuit with a red blouse beneath.  She looked…normal, benign, and Persephone  was dismayed to find she almost believed her…and felt sympathy toward the fairy who’d stolen her life. “So, this is why you want me to succeed, because you actually love them?”

Minerva squeezed her eyes shut as if stemming a flow of tears. “They are everything to me. I can’t bear seeing them so unhappy, especially this time of year.”

“What if I tell them the truth?” Even as Persephone said the words, fear shivered over her skin. Minerva held all the control. Centuries ago, a dark wizard who despised Kris Kringle had endowed Sorrow Fairies with capabilities that Joy Fairies didn’t possess. Joy Fairies were skilled at spreading joy, but had no magic powers. The threat was idle…and dangerous.

Minerva’s eyes blazed with anger, and her mouth pinched. When she spoke, her voice bore a malevolent hiss, as if the hounds of hell resided within her. “You would break their hearts, and I would devise a much, much more torturous eternity than you could ever imagine.” She poked Persephone in the chest with a manicured red nail. “Don’t test me.”

Persephone’s limbs went numb, and she shrank from the venom in Minerva’s expression, in her touch. Fear coiled in her belly, and as much as she wanted to be brave, terror stole her ability to do so.

“Everything okay?”  Tripp spoke from the other side of the door, and with his interruption, all evil drained from Minerva. Her face alit with love.

“Fine, darling. We’re just having a little girl talk. We’ll be right out.” Minerva smiled at Persephone, but beneath the smile lurked a threat. She slowly extended her hand. “Feeling better, dear? Shall we join them?”

~*~

Two nights later

Persephone sipped her wine and stared into the crackling fire, mesmerized by its beauty. But like so many other things in the world, the beauty was deceptive. In an instant, the flames could destroy and devour. 

“More wine?”  She started at Tripp’s voice. She’d begun lingering after Brielle’s bedtime, having wine with Tripp and talking until the wee hours. They’d never touched, never shared a kiss, but Persephone often sensed longing in his intense green eyes.

Once the shock of her encounter with Minerva had worn off, Persephone had settled back into her task of restoring his and Brielle’s Christmas joy. But her efforts had been in vain. A deep sadness still hovered over them. Neither was interested in anything holiday or happiness related.

Tripp returned with her wine and handed it to her, then settled on the sofa beside her—much closer than he usually sat. He was so near, she could feel the warmth of his thigh next to hers. Tingles slithered through her stomach. She sipped the Merlot, but could barely swallow over the lump in her throat.

Silence fell between them, broken only by the sounds of the crackling fire and the ticking grandfather clock. She dared a look at him. His gaze roamed over her face, settling on her mouth, and she stopped breathing. The air grew heavy with tension.

Barely aware of her actions, she leaned forward. He did the same. But just before they touched, he groaned and pulled back. Sitting forward, he thumped his wine glass on the table and covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry.” The words were muffled, but the message was clear. “I can’t do this.”

Disappointment shafted through her, quickly followed by relief. She had no business kissing Tripp Evans. Nothing about her was true or real, and she could not get any more involved with this family than she already was.

She slid to the edge of the sofa and placed her glass next to his. “It’s okay.” Her voice was surprisingly steady. “We were caught up in the moment.”

He removed his hands and lifted his head, staring at her with tormented eyes. “No, I wasn’t caught up in the moment. It wasn’t some impulse. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I met you.”

Her heart slowed, then raced. She wanted to take his beautiful face in her hands, tell him that everything would be okay, that she wanted it too and there was nothing wrong with their feelings. But that would be a lie. “I have, too, but we both know it’s not a good idea.”

“I know.” His voice was anguished.

He stared into the fire, his fingers linked and resting between his knees. He looked so alone, so forlorn, it made her soul ache. He and Brielle deserved a joyous Christmas, and she was determined to make that happen.

Like a lightning bolt from the sky, the realization hit her that the consequences no longer mattered. Curse or no curse, statue or no statue, she’d do whatever it took to make them happy. And then she would leave them, and her heart would be as heavy as the stone that had been her tomb for a century.

~*~

Christmas Eve

Persephone was pleasantly surprised when Brielle asked her to read The Grinch Who Stole Christmas for her bedtime story. It was the first time she’d shown an interest in the holiday. Maybe there was hope.

By the time the story ended, Brielle’s eyes were drifting closed. “I wish we could have Christmas,” she murmured.

Yes. There was hope. “Oh, sweetie. You can have Christmas.”

Brielle blinked her eyes open and frowned. “But it’s too sad without Mommy here.”

“I know.” Persephone swallowed against the hoarseness in her throat. “But your mommy is watching you from Heaven. She loves you very much, and she’ll always be with you.”

Brielle shook her head. “No, she’ll never be with me again.”

“Yes, she will.” Persephone touched a finger to Brielle’s sternum. “Right here, in your heart.”

She scowled skeptically. “Really?”

“Yes, really. When you think about your momma and you feel sad, where do you feel it?”

Brielle touched her chest. “Here.”

“And when you remember the good times, and it makes you happy, where do you feel it?”

“Right here.” She touched her chest again.

“See, that’s your mother’s love, her spirit, always living within you so you’ll never really lose her.”

A tentative, gap-toothed smile emerged. “I’ll never lose her?”

“That’s right. And your mother loved celebrating Christmas with you. Don’t you think she’d be happy if you could start enjoying it again?”

“Maybe.” Brielle yawned. “But I can’t. It makes my daddy too sad.”

“You don’t want Christmas because it makes your daddy sad?”

She nodded, and her small hand brushed her bangs off her forehead. “Every time he hears a Christmas song or sees a tree or stuff like that, he gets really sad and sometimes he cries.”

Brielle’s words pierced Persephone’s heart, and she blinked back tears. No child should carry so much sadness, especially during this magical time of year. Something had to be done.

She waited until Brielle fell asleep, then silently left the room and went downstairs to wait on Tripp.

He came in an hour later, weariness carving grooves in his face. He gave a tentative smile when he saw Persephone. “I’m sorry I’m late. How did it go?”

Persephone crossed her arms and leaned a hip against the sofa. “Not great, actually.”

Concern creased his features. “What’s wrong?”

“I found out why she wants nothing to do with Christmas.”

His mouth tightened. “Yeah, because her mother tragically died on Christmas Eve.”

Persephone shook her head. “That’s not all of it. She doesn’t want anything to do with Christmas because it makes you sad.”

He frowned. “What? What are you talking about?”

Persephone relayed her conversation with Brielle.

“Ah, hell.” Tripp’s shoulders sagged and he seemed to deflate. “Poor thing. I had no idea she was protecting me.”

His face looked so ravaged, so stricken, she wanted to smooth her fingers over his cheeks, kiss his lips, and erase his sorrow. She tightened her fingers into fists to keep them from giving in to the urge.

He dropped onto the sofa, brooding in silence, then lifted his gaze to hers. She was surprised to see a glimmer of happiness.

“If I have my neighbor come sit with Brielle, would you take a little trip with me?” He had the hopeful look of a small boy, with the rugged sexiness that was all man.

Persephone slowly nodded as a rush of love hit her so hard, her knees nearly buckled. She didn’t know what he had in mind, but she was certain that she would go anywhere, anytime, as long as she was with him. 

I hope you enjoyed Part 2...tune in tomorrow for the conclusion.

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