A Conflicted Christmas - Part Three by Margo Hoornstra

Mandy regretted sniping at Dean before she’d even finished doing it, but she simply couldn’t help herself. If she was smart—correction, if his arrival hadn’t muddled up her brain and apparently short circuited all her emotions, she would have handled this whole situation differently. She should have just slipped away and done her thing. Let Dean and the girls do theirs. Without me.

Tears stung at the very thought. Going their separate ways was the last thing she wanted. Having a complete and cohesive family again was. Not to mention, she wanted her husband back. The man she’d shared so much with over the years.

Even though she knew he’d help her, she lifted down the small wheeled cart and stacked the boxes of ornaments on top of it. She had learned to be far more self-sufficient over the past six months.

“What can I do?”

Dean appeared beside her as she tipped the cart on its wheels. When he reached for the handle, she twisted the other way then started walking toward the pavilion.

“Just for the record, that’s not how I meant my comment about the decorations back there.” Catching up with her, he reached out to place a hand on her arm. When she stiffened at the contact, he immediately let go. “I meant the sameness, the familiarity was a good thing. Comforting. Like coming home.”

Fat lot you’d know about that. You coming home? Or just anyone coming home in general? She kept more snippy remarks to herself. Why fight? Plus, this was the holiday season, after all. Peace on Earth, good will to men, and all that.

Even Dean.

“You wondered if there was something you could do.” She slowed her pace as they approached the entrance, even pausing long enough to allow Dean to open the door for her.

“Anything. Just ask.”

Several people were milling around in the huge cavernous room, setting up different booths that had been sectioned off with long, dark curtains. Luckily, she didn’t see anyone they knew. Right now, she didn’t feel much like socializing.

“One of the fathers owns a hardware store and brought in some artificial Christmas trees for us to decorate. You can help me set those up.” She stopped to study a diagram that had been taped to the wall. “We’re assigned to number sixty-five, which is…”

“…at the end of that aisle.” Taking hold of the handle on her cart when she momentarily let it go, Dean headed off in that direction, pulling their cargo along with him.

All she could do was trail behind. Watch his shoulder muscles flex, his appealing backside beneath a pair of jeans with just the right amount of tightness.

How will I ever get through this?

Purposely raising her gaze, she stared straight ahead and kept walking. Once they got to booth number sixty-five, it only took a couple of minutes for Dean to line the boxes up on the floor he then opened with his ever-present pocket knife. While she rolled the now empty cart to a back corner, he started pulling artificial tree parts out of their containers that had been dropped off earlier.

“This festival has always been a real community effort.” He set a newly assembled tree on a front table.

“It certainly has been that.” She turned away to gather some ornaments she set beside it. “Always.”

Dean gave her a brief nod of agreement as he reached for more tree parts.

As the minutes passed, they still hadn’t talked about anything more meaningful than how the younger students had made the ornaments in their art classes, and some of the older students had contributed ornaments made in shop class. With her adding that what she had brought was only a small number of them because so many other volunteers from her school were involved.

“Like I said.” Dean set another tree on another table. “Community effort.”

“Uh-huh.” Could she have made a more intelligent response?

Not today, apparently. Now that she thought about it, the innocuous conversation was probably partially her fault. More than partially even. It kept her from dealing with what they really needed to talk about.

She understood why Dean wanted a second career at forty-five, after his early retirement. And fully supported him in getting into the home security business. What she didn’t understand, and probably never would, was why he felt he had to go somewhere else so far away to do it. What was the inauguration of a new life to him felt a lot like the abandonment of their old life, to her. At the same time, she wanted him to be happy too. But uprooting the girls and giving up their once happy home was a lot to ask.

Still…

“Dean…”

“Mandy…”

They spoke at the same time then exchanged embarrassed smiles. Followed by an awkward silence neither seemed to have the courage to break.

 “I learned a lot about the home security business while I was in Reno.” Dean somehow developed his nerve first. “Wagner said I did really well. Was a real asset to him. He even offered me a management position. As long as I stayed there in Reno.”

Her hand froze on the miniature tree she was setting up, but she didn’t so much as look at him. That wasn’t at all what she wanted to hear. What happened to his talk a moment ago about familiarity and home?

“Good for you.” After adjusting a couple of wayward branches to a better alignment, she bent down to rummage through a box of homemade ornaments.

“He said he liked my grasp of the ins and outs of the business. Said my skills could help his company realize better profits without opening a satellite office here like we’d talked about.”

“I see.” She still didn’t glance up as her rummaging continued. Purely for show now. A way she could keep her head down and her eyes averted. Prevent him from discovering the tears welling in their depths.

Still not standing, the intensity of her fabricated search increased. Dean bent down along side of her, reaching toward the box as if he too intended to start rummaging. Instead, he placed his hands firmly over hers to stop her.

“But I hated every minute away from you and the girls. I told him if he didn’t want to help me open a satellite office in Michigan like he’d promised, I wasn’t interested.”

In that split second, her rifling finally ceased. The last chunks of ice around her heart thawed and fell away. Mouth open, she turned her face toward him, her eyes searching his as if she needed to determine the extent of his honesty. “You what?”

He cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “You were right all along, sweetheart. And I was wrong. Moving away from Michigan was the wrong choice. He wasn’t interested in helping me start a business of my own here. He was after someone to help him run what he already had going out there.”

The anguish in his tone tore at her heart. “Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry. I know how much you wanted this.”

That he simply shrugged surprised her. “He’s not the only owner of a company of its kind. I’ll find another willing to franchise. Or even figure out a way to set up my own. If that doesn’t work, I can do something else. I want you way more than any autonomy. And the girls. If you’ll have me back.”

She took in his earnest expression and the pleading in those intense dark eyes. Bedroom eyes she’d always told him. Eyes that never failed to quicken her pulse and make her heart swell with love.

Gazing into those enthralling eyes now, she swallowed before she spoke. “It turns out I was wrong too.  One of my major arguments, selling a house that was nearly paid for seemed out of the question. And for more than just sentimental reasons, though that was a major factor.” Before he could respond, she went on. “Then there was the road block of pulling the girls out of the public school they’d attended all their academic lives and away from the friends they’d known since before they could walk.” She took a breath. Tears welled up again, but she no longer needed to hide them. “Both girls are so pragmatic, just like you.” She laughed lightly and swiped at her eyes. “Both of them later told me they were willing to make those sacrifices to preserve our family. They were willing to sacrifice…I wasn’t. I was wrong. For that, I’m truly very sorry.”

He grasped her hand and brought her with him when he rose, then pulled her close. “It wasn’t that I didn’t care about your concerns. I just wanted to see if I could…we could…do better. Add to the police officer’s pension I had.”

“It hurt you wouldn’t believe me when I said what we were making was enough for us. That you were enough for me.” Her voice cracked, and she grew silent, pressing her lips together as more tears fell.

Soon though, the apologies, the never should have saids, came out of her in a rush. Everything she’d wanted to say to him. Things she did say to him, if only in her mind, during so many sleepless nights spent without him.

Dean stayed silent and listened. For a while. Until he gently pressed two fingers against her lips to stop the flow. “It’s okay. It wasn’t either of our faults, and it was both of our faults.”

She pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, where she caught the hint of mischief. Any tightness around her heart eased. Hope she didn’t care to restrain rose in her like a beacon slicing across a darkened landscape. Its light growing in brightness until it filled every crevice, chasing out the sadness.

“That’s one way of looking at it.” She smiled at his unique logic, which was so Dean Nichols.

Reaching out, he toyed with a small piece of her hair by her ear. His thumb stroked a slow pattern lightly along the side of her throat. She didn’t move a muscle as shivers delivered by his touch crept along her spine then burst open to re-awaken her nearly forgotten need for him.

“I was hoping we could pick up exactly where we left off.”

The love and devotion she’d at one time come to expect from him and, at another time, feared she’d never see from him again, was openly reflected in his eyes. Joy and gratitude stole her breath then stayed in place to block her throat. Unable to speak through the clog of emotion, she returned his gaze, hers brimming with all the love she held in her heart for him.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she buried her head against his chest, finding immeasurable comfort in the familiarity she found there as her voice returned at last. “I don’t know why not. So, let’s finish up here and hurry home.”

*****

Home.

Coming from Mandy’s lips, the single word rang with the sweetest sound Dean had heard in a very long time.

“Yeah. Let’s.”

From that point forward, he put up little trees he decorated like a madman. Anxious to, as Mandy said, finish up here and hurry home. Where, if he was extremely fortunate, he’d be able to get her alone for an hour, hopefully more.

“What do we do with the empty boxes?” He held up the last of them when they finally had all the decorations unloaded and displayed.

“Leave them here under the tables.” Mandy lifted the cloth skirt attached to one of them. “They probably won’t sell everything. Whoever oversees clean-up can use them to bring back what’s left.”

“Then we’re good to go after this.” He shoved the boxes into haphazard stacks under the table.

Mandy crossed her arms as she watched him. The smile spreading across her face erupted into a giggle as he stowed the last box, settled the skirt back in place, then stood to face her.

“Let’s go.”

“Let’s.”

Grinning like an idiot, he helped Mandy into her jacket before putting on his. Without taking the precious time necessary to zip up, he ushered her toward the door.

He kept his arm tightly around her shoulders all the way back to the car. The drive home, by the town’s holiday decorations was much more pleasant than the ride there as they plotted and planned what the next phase of their life together might look like. Even Santa seemed to be smiling larger than before when they drove by.

Dean gave him a friendly nod and wink in return. Merry Christmas, Old Man.

“The girls have a slumber party to go to tonight.” Mandy took her eyes off the road for a second to glance over at him.

All of a sudden, her reason for being so adamant before about him staying somewhere else tonight became clear. Still, he couldn’t help it when most of the blood fueling his brain headed south. “When do they leave?”

She actually blushed in the most adorable way as she briefly cast a glimpse toward him again. “Probably about the same time as we get home.”

Home. There was that sweetest word in the world again.

“Do we have to drive them? Drop them off anywhere?” If so, he’d be more than happy to do the honors.

“Not this time. Susie’s parents are picking them up. The party is at Casey’s. Only for one night.”

Was her voice tinged with disappointment? Or was his suddenly deprived brain hallucinating on him? Before he could decide, they pulled into the garage, and Mandy hit the button to close the door.

“There’s some chili I can heat up for dinner.” She peered over the top of the car at him after they both got out. “If you don’t mind leftovers.”

“Chili sounds perfect. With cheddar cheese, right?”

She glanced back at him and smiled. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of serving you chili without cheddar cheese.”

“Can’t tell you how wonderful that is to hear.” The smile he’d been sporting for a while now was still so broad, his cheeks were beginning to ache. And he didn’t mind one darned bit. Taking off his jacket he hung on the wall hook just inside the door, he reached to help Mandy out of her coat, allowing his palms to linger on her shoulders.

She placed her hands on top. “It’s good to have you home, Dean.”

“You have no idea how good it is to be home.”

Turning her in his arms, he lowered his head, about to kiss the lips he’d been away from for far too long.

“Mom!” Deanna’s cry echoed from the living room. “I can’t find my ballet flats. Have you seen them?”

“No.” Remaining in his embrace, Mandy lifted her chin to project her voice. “Did you check the hall closet?”

“They aren’t in there either.”

“Check way in the back.”

“Okay, but I don’t think they’re there.”

Letting her go when she cast him an apologetic glance then stepped back, Dean was right behind her as she headed for the living room. As the kitchen door shut behind him, what appeared before him stole his breath. It was all there, just the way he’d left it. The fireplace along one wall, the sectional couch, the matching recliners he and Mandy bought themselves to celebrate their tenth anniversary.

Both their daughters’ overnight gear was stacked by the front door.

“They ended up in my room, Deanna.” Amanda bounced down the stairs. “I put them in your bag already.”

Hitting the bottom step, she paused much as he had. Though she made no comment, a huge smile broke across her face at seeing her parents standing there together.

“Okay. Great. Thank you.” Deanna backed out of the closet and turned around, then stopped and reacted in much the same way as her sister.

“Call when you’re ready to come home tomorrow, and one of us will pick you up.” Mandy’s voice was calm and matter of fact as both girls stood side by side staring at their apparently reconciled parents.

A horn honk from the driveway broke the spell.

“There’s Susie. Come on, Deanna.”

“Right behind you.”

Collecting sleeping bags, pillows and backpacks, they helped each other struggle through the door.

“Bye, Mom and Dad. Love you.” Their voices blended to resonate back just before they closed the door with a whump.

“Love you too.” He and Mandy responded with a chorus of their own.

With his arms wrapped easily around her again, he closed his eyes in pure enjoyment as Mandy nestled her head against his shoulder. Right where she belonged.

“Looks like we won’t be needing that suite at the Hamilton Inn after all.” Her voice came out soft.

He flicked a gaze toward the pendulum clock on the mantle. “It’s after six. Too late to cancel for tonight. Your card’s already been charged.”

“It’s a shame to let such a nice, expensive hotel room go to waste.” Her voice held an intimate undertone that ignited a spark deep inside him.

And darned if almost all his blood didn’t shoot downward again.

“I agree. We should put all those amenities to good use at least once, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes. Definitely.” Turning in his arms, she gazed up at him.

Finally, after long last, he bent his head and kissed her lips for real. Gently at first, in case she wasn’t ready for the contact. Which, as it turned out, couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Her palms naturally skimmed over the familiar territory of his chest and shoulders, and she clasped her hands together around his neck. When she raised her mouth to accept the pressure of his again, he eagerly and passionately returned her kiss, filled with every ounce of love he held for her. And so much more to come.

Two weary travelers who, after wandering aimlessly for far too long, arrive home at last. To finally find their rightful place together at the inn.

This concludes the gifts of free Christmas short stories from the authors of The Roses of Prose. We hope you enjoyed your time with us. Hope your Christmas was Merry and Bright. Have a very Happy New Year!

A Conflicted Christmas - Part Two by Margo Hoornstra

Dean Nichols peered through the snow spattered windshield at the emerging lights some distance ahead and hoped like hell there was room for him again in Mandy’s heart.

Of course, the girls would pick this week to ask him to come home for their holiday visit. The busiest tourist week all year in Cascade Lake. The very week of the Snowfall Festival when every single memory he held of his once happy life with Mandy and the girls was the most acute…and painful.

A new rush of snowflakes danced and whirled over the hood of his F-150 pickup as he sped along the interstate, and he flipped the wipers on high.

He’d been an idiot. A fool. Talk about your midlife crisis. He never in a million years thought one would happen to him. Reeling from too many broken promises, all he wanted was his family back. But the longer he stayed away, the harder it was to find the courage to return. Whether coming back now was too little too late, he’d find out soon enough. In the next few minutes in fact. When he arrived at their house.

Their house.

How he referred to the place where their family had lived together for so many years. Whether Mandy still did or not was another matter entirely. He had no idea what to expect from her. Among other things, like how would they greet each other? The couple who was once so inseparably close, after being apart for six months.

Sure as hell not like the long lost lovers he considered them to be. No matter how much he might want to reconcile with the woman he so cherished. From the top of her head to the soles of her feet, that never failed to keep his warm at night.

His headlights illuminated the upcoming exit sign for Cascade Lake and he pressed on the gas. It wouldn’t be long now, and all these unknowns would be answered. Visions of the love of his life filled his head. Wavy blonde hair, long lashed blue eyes, full, kissable mouth.

A body made for loving.

Blowing out a sigh, he took the approaching off ramp, then made quick work of traversing the streets of greater Cascade Lake. Down Center Boulevard by the water where most of the tourist shops were decorated to the hilt. Familiar black, vintage street lamps were decked at their necks with thick, shiny silver bows. Multi-colored lights sparkled from store windows to create kaleidoscope reflections. Dwarf Christmas trees with golden stars on top and wrapped in swirls of tinsel and lights sat in huge pots on the sidewalk. Home to colorful bursts of petunias and impatiens during the summer months.

“Much prettier along here in the wintertime. In my opinion, anyway.” He muttered to himself as he drove on passed the courthouse with its gigantic ceramic red suited Santa Claus. His bag brimmed with toys on the ground beside him, mittened hand raised in a wave and cherubic face in a constant smile of welcome.

A small salute seemed in order as he came along side. “Thanks, Buddy. I need all the welcome encouragement I can get.”

Real good, Nichols. Keep talking to yourself. Something he found himself doing on the long cross-country drive from Nevada. A half assed effort to gin himself up for the soon to occur reunion.

A left turn on Ash, then right onto Hilltop and, before he knew it, he was home. At least he’d made it as far as the driveway and stopped in front of the garage where both doors were shut down tight. Killing the engine, he had only one thing left to do. Get out and go into the house.

“But, how exactly?” The snow had finally stopped as he peered through the windshield at the two-story colonial where he lived at one time with Mandy and the girls.

Should he walk in unannounced? Stand on the porch and knock? Sit here in the damned car with the heat off and honk the horn? Under the circumstances, none of the choices seemed quite appropriate. Leaning forward, he rested his hands, sweaty palms and all, on top of the steering wheel. “Then what the hell is appropriate?”

“Daddy! Daddy!” Deanna burst out the door, making the decision for him. “You’re here!”

“Punkin.” He exited the car just in time to catch her exuberant little body in his waiting arms.

“Dad!” Slightly older Amanda bounced out next to make a beeline his way.

Reaching out, he easily caught her too. For the next few moments, time stopped as he hugged the girls he’d been away from for far too long, and had missed so much.

As hard as they were squeezing him, he squeezed them tighter.

“You’re home, Daddy. You’re home.” Deanna repeated the phrase like a sacred mantra.

“Yeah.” He kissed one on the cheek then the other. “I am.”

After they’d had their fill of hugs and separated, Amanda checked out his truck with a quick glance. “What did you bring us? Good presents, I hope.”

“Presents?” He reared back in mock mystification. “Why in the world would I bring presents?”

“Da-ad.” Amanda slapped him playfully on the arm. “You know why.”

“Yes, I brought presents.” Unable to help it, he hauled them both close to him again. “Plenty of them. For each of you, and your mother too.”

Though he’d tried his best to act totally nonchalant, for an instant, each of his daughters froze. Enough to clue him in to the fact that when it came to Mandy, some tension remained.

Great.

But why wouldn’t there be? She was certainly entitled. After all, he was the one who left her to try his hand at a new business venture. Going clear across the country to do it after she'd asked him not to..

Even if his intention was to supplement the State Police pension he’d earned after twenty years of service. Despite the heartache he’d caused though, his decision to tie into the home security and personal protection business had been a good one. Learning as he worked, he’d made the money he’d expected to. Secured the contacts he wanted to. He just hadn’t realized the result he’d banked on.

Now, he was more than ready to simply come home. If Mandy would have him.

“Hello, Dean.”

Hearing his wife’s voice after what seemed like a lifetime away, he very nearly stopped breathing. Carefully freeing himself from his kids, he stepped back. When his heart seemed to follow the lead of his lungs and cease working as well, he was sure he’d topple over from sheer lack of oxygen and restricted blood flow. All he could do was stare.

Mandy kept walking toward him. “How have you been?”

Both AWOL organs kicked in with a jolt. “Fine, Mandy. And you?”

“I’m fine, too.”

They were both lying through their teeth, though he doubted either one of them would ever admit it.

Standing before him with the curls he loved to run his fingers through framing her face, she was attractive as ever. Even with the tell-tale signs of apprehension edging her eyes and pulling down the corners of her mouth. Drawn to her beauty, he started to move forward, arms out. At the warning in her gaze, he immediately censored what could have easily become a lovers’ embrace when he dropped his left arm to his side and merely extended his right hand he gently rubbed along her shoulder. The second they connected, a bolt of awareness flashed then sizzled up his arm to settle inside him. The manifestation of all the warmth and caring between them shot through to take its rightful place around his heart.

Too soon she took a step back and his hand dropped away.

“The girls just asked about presents.” Suddenly it hurt to look at her, and he turned toward the driveway where his truck sat. “Those are in there, along with all of my suitcases.”

He hoped she noticed the plural when he referenced his luggage. This trip, he wasn’t traveling light, having packed up everything he’d taken with him when he moved out. With the full intention of moving back in again. He’d no sooner gone over to drop the tailgate, push back the tonneau cover and begin unloading when Mandy followed him and put a hand on his arm.

“I’ve made you a reservation…for a room.”

She might just as well have added a well-aimed kick to the groin to that statement. It probably wouldn’t have hurt quite so much. But still brought him to his knees.

“Oh.” As his heart sunk, taking along any optimism he might have had left, the monosyllable was all he could manage. He hadn’t deluded himself into thinking his homecoming wouldn’t be awkward. What he sure hadn’t expected was it would be so devastatingly painful. Like being gut shot in the line of duty without any sense of purpose.

“It’s in your name. I had them send the confirmation to your email.”

He couldn’t think of anything else to do but pull out his cell. May as well find out where I'm headed. Since it sure as hell wasn’t where he’d expected to stay. The screen lit after he keyed in his code.

“Here, Dad. I’ll find it for you.” Amanda reached for the phone he readily surrendered.

Apparently, he’d underestimated Mandy’s level of desperation. Big time.

“This was totally mom’s idea. Not ours.” Giving Mandy a scathing look only a disagreeing daughter can bestow on her mother, Amanda spun the screen with her thumb then started to read. “King bed with tension relieving vibration unit. Two-person hot tub with in room provided robes, complimentary fruit and cheese tray with chilled bottle of sparkling champagne on request.”

The long, explicit room description was given in what must have been her most robust public speaking voice. As if she were out to prove a point.

Peering over her sister’s shoulder, Deanna looked at his phone then up at him, a huge frown marring her face. “Gee, Dad. Mom sure went all out for you.”

“That’s certainly not what I had in mind.” Mandy hurried to clarify, her cheeks flaming. “Snowfall weekend there’s not a lot available, as you all well know.”

Any other time, he would have welcomed Mandy making a reservation like this for him. Knowing they’d be enjoying the extensive amenities together. Among other pleasures which weren’t worth thinking about just now. Why frustrate myself more than I already am?

“Maybe if the hot tub’s big enough for two, you could swim in there alone, Dad.” With another glaring look her mother’s way, Amanda handed him back the phone.

“Okay, well.” He slid the cell back in his pocket, at a total loss. Until something came to mind. “It…uh…didn’t say how long you reserved the room for.”

One night? Maybe two? Allow him to slowly ease back into the household.

“Just a week. That’s how long the girls said you’d be staying.”

Now he really didn’t have a response.

Good thing Mandy opened her mouth, hopefully prepared to speak for both of them.

“I was just going downtown to the school’s booth for the festival tomorrow. The students have made ornaments to sell. I agreed to set up. Other teachers will oversee selling and such beginning tomorrow. Some took on clean up duty.”

 “I’d like to help.” When she seemed reluctant to accept his offer, he forged ahead anyway. “In fact, I’ll drive.”

“My car’s already loaded.” Pulling the remote from her purse, she raised the garage door and headed inside.

Sending him a clear and distinct message. If he had any chance in hell of going with her, he’d better haul some serious ass. Which he did. Even skinning around ahead of her to open the driver’s side door before she got there.

“Okay. Whatever you want.” By God, he’d still do his darnedest to be agreeable. Even if he did stand there and purposely hold the door open once she skirted around him to climb inside. “The girls can at least unload the Christmas presents from my truck while we’re gone.” Slamming the door at last, he hurried around to the passenger side.

“Sure, Daddy.” His daughters spoke in unison.

“We can unload the presents you brought,” Amanda added with a monumental eye roll.

“Sounds good, Punkin’” And I’ll deal with the rest when I get back.

Beyond that, he said no more, just crawled in and fastened his seat belt as Mandy, also noticeably silent, backed out of the driveway. Shutting his mouth and keeping it shut seemed to be the way to go for now. Anything else could risk being at odds with her. Not at all how he wanted them to come together after six months apart.

In a few minutes though, he couldn’t stand not talking any longer.

“Same old downtown Cascade Lake.” He lifted an arm as he glanced out the window when Mandy drove along the bright lights of Center Boulevard.

“Sometimes change isn’t the best way to go.” She answered him without taking her eyes off the road. “Sometimes tradition is best.”

All he could do was nod his agreement. He’d only made what he thought to be an innocent comment to break the silence that was stretching between them. But why argue?

They drove by Santa next. Smiling and waving. Still jolly as ever.

Good for you. He gave Old Saint Nick a raised eyebrow in greeting.

Shortly after, Mandy pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the large pavilion where the bazaar part of the festival was being held. They got out without speaking. Suddenly overwhelmed with memories of the first time he laid eyes on Mandy Gearhart, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was remembering too.

Probably not.

Eyes forward, keeping her attention focused on the task at hand, Mandy had the back hatch of her SUV open while Dean was still working to swallow the lump that had abruptly formed at the back of his throat.

Poor Dean simply cannot catch a break, no matter how hard he tries to make things right again. Ball's in Mandy's court now. Hope she makes the right decision. Join me here tomorrow to find out for A Conflicted Christmas - Part Three.

 

Undead For The Holiday

         

                                                

                     Undead For The Holiday 

                      I peer at the neon sign through my snow-spattered windshield, and hope like hell there is room at the inn. It will have to be a really cheap room as I lost my purse running from a crazed attacker. That’s why I’m counting on the proprietor, whom I used to date, to take pity on me.

     As I continue to stare at the neon light, part of me realizes the ruby-colored, gas-filled tubes should appear stationary. During the last half hour, my vision has become so jacked up the letters are drunkenly undulating. They twist and turn into ever-elongating lines until they’re blurring together like a blob of water-spotted ink. 

     Will has to help. Even if he has a mean streak—he did break up with me on Christmas Eve. Once he sees my condition, though, I’m sure he won’t leave me out in the cold. He will, however, demand to know what happened. Am I prepared to give him the explanation?  

     The truth makes me sound deranged.

     After an assault like the one I’d just experienced, most victims would seek medical attention. I plan to steer clear of all hospitals and law enforcement. The very idea makes my gut clench. It’s my body's method of warning me against something. And the message is loud and clear. Do not try to explain these weird bite marks to skeptical medical staff. For sure, I'd end up spending Christmas restrained to a gurney and shoved into some long-forgotten corner of the psych ward.

     My life has been marred by bad luck and setbacks. Case in point? William Whitfield broke up with me on Christmas Eve. Of course, it was ten years ago. Ten years ago, in fact, to the very day.

     Stuff like that only happens to someone like me.

     Despite my mother’s claim to the contrary, I’ve long suspected some erstwhile ancestor polluted the family gene pool. Dooming me to walk hand-in-hand with rotten karma under my very own dark cloud. When angels handed out blessings, I got that tiny, stuck-on speck at the bottom of the fortune barrel.

     If someone is there to witness my stupidity, I always push when the sign says pull. I run into glass doors and trip over air. If I go to a restaurant with a large group of friends, only my chair makes a farting noise when I sit. Runaway grocery carts will race past a thousand cars just to hit mine.

     And just the other day, I greeted an old acquaintance by enthusiastically slapping them on the back only to learn they were recovering from spine surgery. Then there's my mouth. My worst enemy. What trouble hasn't it gotten me into? Like telling Will I loved him and wanted to have his babies right before he dumped me in front of a hundred onlookers.

      Fleeing Amber Heights, Missouri with a broken heart, I married on the rebound. Not an immediate bounce as it was almost two years later but my heart was still hurting.

     Over the last eight years, the mishaps came like clockwork. I lost a promotion to a slimeball co-worker. I fell for an IRS phone scam and had my identity stolen. My Facebook page got hacked, and the perp (I suspect same slimeball co-worker) posted a dick pic to my page landing me in FB jail.

     While these things stung, I find that with time I can laugh. At least, I can find the humor in most of it. However, I did experience four real tragedies in the last four years that hurt too much to talk about. I suffered two miscarriages and lost both parents within a year of each other.

     Ten months ago, I got divorced.

     For this first Christmas Eve alone, I decided to go back to Amber Heights. Like sadistically pressing down on a bruise, I planned to skulk down a bittersweet memory lane. I say skulk because I'd intended to get in and out with none the wiser.

     Nothing goes as planned, and that’s why I’m sitting outside Will’s place too weak to drive back to my lonely house.

    Thousands of muggings occur every day, and this number only increases over the holidays. I'm not sure getting mugged would have even phased me. But this madman hadn’t wanted the money in my purse. He hadn’t groped or sexually violated me in any way. No, what he’d wanted was—even more deviant and disgusting. Something that  horrified me so badly, I’m having trouble putting it into words.

     My train of thought shatters as another shiver racks my spine. I’ve never felt this cold before. My head reels in a way that suggests something vital inside me, some internal gyroscope, has broken. Or, perhaps, I’ve lost too much blood to keep the inner-balancing gizmo pumping. Without it, my brain has gone to mush and the view outside the windshield has taken on the otherworldly cast of an overexposed photograph. 

     With a little start, I realize my car is still idling right smack in the middle of the damned highway. Like a complete fool, I haven’t given a thought to other travelers. A quick check, reassures me the highway is dark in either direction. It’s official. No one in Southwestern Missouri is stupid enough to drive in such conditions. Just me. One desperate woman.

    Turning the wheel, I inadvertently hit the gas with too much force and go into a slide across the parking lot. I wind up stuck in a small mountain of plowed snow. Longingly, I stare at the long, white building, and then my last brain cell fires in sudden warning. I can’t go in there. I’ll be trapped inside a small boxy motel room. Having my car parked right outside is tantamount to a flashing arrow saying, Here I am.  
     If I’m going to conveniently box myself up like a Christmas gift, I might as well put a big bow on the door.

     Thing is, I can’t go any further. I’m on the verge of losing it when the car door abruptly opens, and I shriek in fear. The cold blast of air brings me back to my senses as does Will’s deep voice, “Hollis?”

     Time falls away as I look into Will’s deep brown eyes and search his face. He hasn’t aged. I have. Under these circumstances it’s stupid to get hung up on looks, but he’s every bit as devastatingly handsome. The expression he wears is equally familiar. How many times did he scrutinize me as if I was a puzzle to be solved?

     Gently, he touches my cheek. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

     I try to answer, but only manage something inarticulate. I suspect my face is stark and my eyes haunted when he says, “Something got you running scared.” Raising his head, he looks around and then back down at me. “Let’s get you inside.”

     I’m afraid I’m not much help as he lifts me out of the car and carries me to the guestroom next to the motel office. Once inside, I'm lowered onto an upholstered chair and he goes to pull back the bed linens. Hazily, I take note of the updated decor. I like the new soft blues and muted greens. They're warm and inviting.

    The pet name that hasn’t crossed my lips in a decade comes out automatically, “Wills?” I croak.

     It makes him smile. “That’s right.”

    “Llock,” I stutter, “th-the door.”

     This garners a sharp look, but he doesn’t pepper me with questions. Quietly, he crosses to the single window, next to the door, and pushes back the edge of the curtain. As he peers out, I catch the reflection of festive, multi-colored twinkle lights hung around the glass.

     After a few moments, he relaxes and drops the panel back into place. "Nothing but snow," he reassures me. Still, he turns the deadbolt with an audible click and flicks the security bar into place.

     “Do—do you have a gun?”

     That has his brows snapping back together. Again, I feel the full force of that laser stare. “Gun?” Coming back to the chair, he squats in front of me and removes my boots. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

     With snowy footwear set aside, he reaches for the zipper of my coat, and I suddenly discover I don’t want him to see the bite marks. Rationally, I know the assault wasn’t my fault. It’s stupid to feel dirty and ashamed. But I do.

     Childishly, like a toddler that believes the world disappears when their eyes are shut, I try to hide the injury by clapping my palms around my neck. I must look like I’m trying to choke myself because Will snorts.

     “What’s this?” Gently, he works my fingers loose. “Look, Holly, I don’t know what’s going on here. If you’re sporting a hickey from some boyfriend, that’s one thing. If someone has hurt you, I need to know.”

     With that, he brings my hands down and bares my throat. I can’t breathe waiting for Will to comment on the bloody holes decorating my neck. The hard questions I fear, however, don’t come. Instead of shock, his face hardens with anger.

     But all he says is, “You need to get out of those wet clothes. Can you do it?”

     “Sure,” I say, but make no move to do so. I’m shaking so hard I don’t think I can lift my arms. He seems to realize this.

     “Think of me as your doctor.” He blows out a hard breath. Then, before I can think to be embarrassed, he has me stripped and tucked into the bed beneath a pile of welcoming blankets. Then with a, “I’ll be right back,” he’s out the door.

      I’m grateful he’s back before I can stress over being left alone. He’s scrounged up a long sleeved tee shirt in black cotton and a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants that look soft and well worn. As good as those look, I’m more intrigued by whatever he’s got wrapped in a white bath towel. It makes a mysterious thunk when he sets it down.  

      With the same efficiency he used to undress me, he helps me dress. A few pillows get stacked behind my head, covers are drawn up to my chin, and I know what he’s doing. He’s getting me ready for the inquisition.

     Sure enough, Will sits on the side of the mattress and pins me with an expectant look. “Start talking, Holls.”

     “I was at the courthouse…”

      I can't help but falter when his eyes flare. The last time I went to see the town’s holiday display, we were together, and he knows it.

     Like a lot of small towns, Amber Heights was built on the classic square. At its epicenter is a stately, gray-stone, domed courthouse surrounded by well-manicured lawns. Since the end of WWII, the chamber of commerce seasonally fills the public space with Christmas trees and colorfully lit decorations.

     The night Will and I last wandered, hand-in-hand among the illuminations and live-action dioramas, snow had been falling softly in big, fat flakes. Naturally, I was enchanted by the winter wonderland. Enraptured to the point I became overwhelmed by thoughts of romance. That’s my excuse for kissing Will under an arch of white twinkle lights, and infamously stating I wanted to have his babies.

     He tried to be nice about it. Regret shimmered around him as he did his best to let me down gently. But all I heard of his little speech was that we were over.

     A sad little sound brings me back to the present, and I'm mortified to realize it came from me. I find Will watching with a thoughtful expression, and I think his eyes seem sad. Then again, I’ve always been good at deluding myself. I shake it off. The only thing I’m certain of is that he knows exactly where my mental side trip has taken me.

     Dammed if I’m going to rehash this now. 

                                      ****

Come back tomorrow to find out if Will believes Holly's outrageous tale.