TABLE OF CONTENTS
O Christmas Cactus, O Christmas Cactus—M. Edward McNally
Fred’s Best Christmas—P.J. Jones
A Very Shero Christmas—Jack Wallen
The Darkest Night—Heather Marie Adkins
The Holiday Collection
by
The Indie Eclective
Copyright © 2011 by The Indie Eclective
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.
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The nine authors in this collection retain and hold their individual respective rights to their stories.
Cover Art by Jack Wallen
St. Claws
Matt Haskel glanced at the sheet of paper filled with one line fortunes. Today buy a gift. You will find a lucky wreath. Listen to the reindeer outside your window.
“Where’d Gino find this clown?” he mumbled to himself. Impatiently, he read the remaining fortunes and pushed the sheet aside. For some reason, the last one seemed to crawl under his skin. When the elves come to your home, let them in.
“Suwyn,” he called toward the open door. His office was directly upstairs from the plant where FAR WEST FORTUNE COOKIES were manufactured. He waited a moment and shouted louder. “Suwyn.” The man had been hired a few weeks ago and was supposed to be only a consultant—at least that’s what Gino Pellete, the owner, had told him.
When no one appeared, Matt rose. He took a step toward the plant entrance just as a thin Asian rushed into his office.
The shorter man bowed. “Yes sir?” he said deferentially.
Matt motioned him in. “Suwyn, sit, please.” He returned to his desk and waited for the consultant to take a chair. The man remained standing.
“Sit. We have to talk.”
“I stand.”
“Whatever.” Matt slipped the paper in front of him. “Suwyn, what are these?”
“Fortunes.”
“Fortunes? ‘Buy a gift’, ‘lucky wreaths’, ‘reindeer’? Where is the material I’ve been writing—people want to read about the stock market, winning the lottery, hell, getting laid.” Did the Asian just blush? Matt shook his head.
Suwyn grinned. “Mine poplar in China.”
“We aren’t in China.” Matt lifted the paper, wincing. Heck, the man couldn’t even speak proper English. “Elves?”
“It Christmas time soon, Mr. Matt.”
Matt almost said I don’t give a flip about Christmas, but held his tongue. He forced a smile. “Suwyn, FAR WEST ships our product all over the world. We need fortunes that will be relevant well into the new year—not just during the holidays. Our shelf life is nine months. Wreaths, elves?”
The Asian just stood there with that big grin. Momentarily, Matt sensed he was being laughed at. “Just leave, I’ll write another batch,” he said quickly, before he became angry.
Suwyn bowed and said, “They good, yes, Mr. Matt?”
And this was Mr. Pellete’s consultant? Matt nodded weakly. “I’ll take care of the one-liners for this shipment.”
The Asian bowed and then stepped out.
Matt crumpled up the paper, then tossed the discarded fortunes in the trash can with a nice hook shot just as the interplant phone buzzed. He noted the blinking light. Now what did the boss want?
He punched the button. “Hi, Mr. Pellete.”
“Matt, I need to have a word with you.”
“Sir, I’m having a little issue with that new consultant—”
“That can wait.”
Suddenly, Matt didn’t like the boss’s tone. “You mean now, Sir?”
“Now.”
* * *
Matt sat sullenly in his cramped apartment living room watching the reruns from last weekend’s football games. How could December go to shit so fast? One day he’s running the design and shipping department of an up and coming southern California confectionary company and the next he’s home sulking in front of his computer creating resumes and sending them out by the boatload. He sipped some more of the beer—his fourth of the day and it wasn’t even mid-afternoon yet. Things weren’t looking good. No job, holiday bills threatening to inundate the Haskel household, and the biggest blow—his and Jenny’s loan application had been rejected once the bank discovered he’d joined the ranks of the unemployed. Happy holidays, bro. His eyes glazed over while ESPN broke for a commercial. “No,” Matt moaned. Of all things, some teenage X Games star was demonstrating the SuperScooter. That’s all Billy, his eight year old, had been talking about for the last year. Price tag—a measly five hundred bills. In frustration, he muted the volume. The silence only brought back the conversation as he called it. Four weeks had done nothing to mitigate the sense of despair and self-loathing.
“Matt,” Gino had said. “Suwyn’s company has made a bid for FAR WEST FORTUNE COOKIES.”
“You got to be kidding, Mr. Pellete.”
But Mr. Pellete had been deadly serious. Because it was nearing Christmas, the Chinese company had made a very generous holiday offer—as the Chinese execs had phrased it—and Gino Pellete had accepted. Of all the irony, Suwyn—who couldn’t pen an American cookie fortune if his future depended on it—had issued Matt his walking papers. “Merry holidays,” he’d wished. Matt gulped the remainder of the beer down. He couldn’t resist pondering if he’d spent more time at work and less with his family, maybe they would have thought him more valuable and kept him on. Yeah, Suwyn, thanks a lot. Timing couldn’t have been worse. Ever try finding a decent job around the holidays? Winning the lottery offered better odds. Four weeks of rejections could take a toll on a guy’s ego, not to mention his bank account. Damn, and Jenny had really loved that new kitchen. At least, she had her part-time waitressing job.
Matt heard a car pull into the drive. Quickly, he shut off the television and tossed the beer can in the waste. He didn’t need Jenny seeing him pining away, watching football reruns and inebriating himself. He plunked down in front of his computer just as the front door opened.
“Daddy.”
Matt looked up feigning surprise as if he’d been working on selling himself all morning. “Heya, sport. Give Daddy a big-boy hug.”
With a burst of energy Matt wished he had, the boy leaped into his lap. “Guess what Mommy and me saw.”
“I.”
“What?”
“Never mind. What did you and Mommy see?” he asked already visualizing the answer in Billy’s face.
“A SuperScooter!”
Matt scrunched up his expression. “A SuperScooter—what’s that?”
“Daddy!” And they began to play wrestle.
“Billy,” a woman’s voice called from the hallway. “Come help Mommy in the kitchen and let Daddy work. Then you need to finish packing.”
The boy looked up into Matt’s face and asked in child-seriousness, “You didn’t really forget, did you, Daddy?”
Matt felt another needle puncture his pride. “No, I didn’t. We’ll see—now go help Mommy,” he finished before being bombarded with any more questions.
“I love Christmas!” Billy screeched and raced into the other room, leaving Matt with a sick feeling in his gut. Five hundred freaking dollars.
He turned back to the computer listing of jobs. A secretary, other clerical positions filled the screen. Let Daddy work. That was a joke. He didn’t realize he was no longer alone until he felt her hand on his shoulder.
“How’s the hunt going?”
Matt just shook his head. “Jen, it’s two days before Christmas. I suppose if I put on fifty pounds I could play Santa somewhere.” He heard a long tired sigh indicating his cynicism had not gone over well and swiveled around to face his wife. Even when she looked somber, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever kissed. Not that there’d been much of that lately. Losing your job, letting a home deal fall through, and not being able to afford the one gift your only child wanted did little for a guy’s confidence. Just get me to the new year, he pleaded silently.
Jenny removed her hand to push a bang of blonde hair off her forehead. “Something will turn up,” she remarked, staring at the monitor. “You all packed? We have a long drive tomorrow.”
Matt reached for her. “Jenny, I’m not really in the mood to go.”
“Matt, we’ve been over this too many times. I’ve already promised my parents we would spend the holidays with them at their condo in Mammoth Lakes. They’re expecting us. We’re going.”
“That’s just fantastic.”
“Please don’t be this way. Billy will love the snow.”
“And I get to listen to your father tell me about how much money his investments are making. Do your parents know I lost my—”
“I haven’t told them. But I know Daddy would lend us some money for a SuperScooter—all I have to do is ask.”
“No.” He reached again for her but she’d already turned away.
* * *
Matt was satisfied to let Jenny and Billy do all the talking while he drove. Every so often he sensed his wife watching him. He wanted to look over and say something witty—hell, being witty came with creating amusing sayings for cookies—but he couldn’t even bring himself to smile. The mood just wasn’t there. Listening to the banter, at least two people in the car were in a festive mood. Jenny laughed at something Billy said and her gleeful response evoked mental images of happier times they’d spent together. Their initial introduction had taken place at a roommate’s Christmas party of all places. Matt wasn’t even going to attend but at the last moment bought a Scrooge mask and showed up. Jenny came as an elf—wow, she’d looked so good in her short green dress, caplet, elf hat and sexy green boots. That had been one of the best evenings of his life. How had things changed so? Well, they had. Working, bills, trying to get a home of their own, Billy—whoa, kids were expensive—and now he’d lost his job and a chance at a new home. How could Jenny not respect him less? And all this crap at Christmas time, too. What he didn’t need was having to listen to the financial success stories of his in-laws. Jenny should have realized this but she didn’t seem to care. She was correct about one thing, though—Billy would love seeing some snow. Matt would just have to concentrate on that.
Matt glanced at his cell phone on the console. After a month, he still half-expected Mr. Pellete to call and beg him to come back—with a fat raise to boot. No such luck and he admonished himself for his foolishness. Just get me through the holidays. That had become his mantra.
He passed the sign to Independence—good, over halfway. One bit of luck had been the weather. A brittle blue sky and no snow forecast, though he’d brought chains just in case.
“Matt.”
He glanced at his wife.
She looked a little perturbed. “You missed the turnoff to Glacier Lodge. I thought that was where we were going to stop for lunch.”
Holy smokes, she was right. “I’ll take the next exit and double back. Sorry.”
“No, let’s keep going. We’ll lose too much time.”
“It’ll be fine, Jen. Look, there’s an exit up ahead.”
“You sure? I don’t want to get lost. I don’t recall the next exit being this close.”
In the back seat, Billy giggled. “Daddy’s going to get lost.”
“Hey, whose side you on, pardner?” Matt asked, though come to think of it, he didn’t recall an exit being here off the 395 either. Not even marked with a sign.
“You and Mommy’s side,” Billy chortled.
“What a politician.” Matt attempted a grin at Jenny but she was too busy looking around her. He slowed and drove off the interstate. The view was fantastic—snow covered peaks, huge Ponderosa pines, and steep verdant ridges that appeared to be decorated with white frosting.
“We’re exploring, Mommy,” Billy declared from the back seat.
“Yes, honey.”
Matt didn’t miss his wife’s undertone of doubt, though. What, she didn’t have faith he could get them back to Glacier Lodge? This he found both unsettling and irritating. He might not be able to hold a job, but at least he could get his wife and son to Jenny’s favorite lunch spot on the drive to Mammoth Lakes. They’d dined at the quaint B&B numerous times before. Simple.
And for about fifteen miles it did seem simple. Though the four-lane condensed to two and the concrete became black top, at least they were moving in the right direction. He noticed Jenny shivering. “Want the heater higher?”
She shook her head. “Maybe we should just go back.”
“We’ll be fine. Glacier Lodge can’t be far.”
“But—”
“Relax, will you?” His irritation must have shown through because Billy asked, “Daddy, are you angry?”
“No,” he said a little sharper than he’d meant and felt Jenny’s cold stare.
The black top led into a series of winding switchbacks and suddenly they were no longer heading toward Glacier Lodge, but away.
“Damn,” he muttered.
“Matt,” Jenny said.
I know, he thought, no cussing in front of Billy. But dammit, he was angry now.
For just an instant, he lost sight of the road when a bright ray of sunshine broke free from the forest canopy. BAMM.
“Shit,” he cursed, feeling the car bounce once roughly.
Alarmed, Jenny grabbed his arm. “What was that?”
“Just a pothole,” he guessed, but he knew something more serious had happened when he felt the car dragging to his left.
“What’s that sound?” Jenny asked.
Matt didn’t answer. GRGRGRGRGR. The rough grating sound continued until he braked. “I’ll look and see.” He saw Jenny reach for her cell phone. “What are you doing?”
“Letting Daddy know we’ll be late.”
“Come on, it’s no big deal.” Matt looked toward his son. Billy was frowning. “You okay, pardner?”
He barely nodded. “I want to see Grandma and Grandpa.”
“We will, son,” Matt said. He heard Jenny’s humph.
She dropped her phone in her lap. “That’s great. No cell phone reception.”
Matt thought it best not to respond immediately. He opened the door, aware of the chill in the air. He figured they’d had a flat—easy enough to remedy—so he walked around the SUV. No flats. When he squatted down to check underneath the vehicle, his heart sunk to his gut. Not this, he winced. The left rear axle was busted and the loose metal edge lay on the asphalt. He stood up, feeling both Jenny’s and his son’s gaze.
“What’s wrong, Matt?” she asked.
“Daddy?”
Matt chose not to look at either one, instead focusing his ire on the nearest ridge. Busted axle in the middle of nowhere on Christmas Eve day. How much more wonderful could this holiday season get? Just frickin’ great.
* * *
“Daddy, I hear bells.”
Matt sat on the hood of the SUV staring at the NO SIGNAL icon on his smart phone. For the last hour both he and Jenny had tried calling, but no luck. Unbelievably, not another vehicle had come by either. Everyone home, and he had his family stuck at five thousand feet in the Sierra Nevadas.
“Stay out of the trees, Billy,” he heard Jenny warn. Then “Matt, Billy’s talking to you.”
Matt shoved the phone down in his jacket. “Yeah, what’s that, son?”
Billy stood at the edge of the woods. “I hear bells.”
Jenny wandered over by the boy. “I hear them, too. Come over here, Matt. Listen.”
Matt slid off the hood, gazing at the line of ridges. Why the hell hadn’t he listened to Jenny? They’d be almost at Mammoth Lakes by now. Not that he was so eager to get there. Standing beside his wife, he almost reached out and took her hand but thought better of it. Earlier, she’d been fuming but seemed more calm now. Better just let it be. He listened a moment but heard only the wind moving through the evergreens. He noticed isolated patches of snow in the shade.
Both Jenny and Billy watched him.
Matt shook his head. “Only the wind.”
“No, Daddy, I hear them.”
Jenny agreed. “It’s not the wind. I can hear the donging.”
Matt began to argue, but just then the breeze touched his face and he suddenly heard the ding-donging, too. “Weird. Out here in the middle of nowhere. They sound too close for Glacier Lodge.”
“Is there a town nearby?” Jenny asked.
“Besides Glacier Lodge, none that I’m familiar with.”
“There must be, Daddy,” Billy put in his two cents worth. “Sounds like they’re ringing right beyond that hill.”
Jenny agreed. “Matt, maybe they have a mechanic who can fix the car today.”
Matt sensed his exasperation building. “Jenny, it’s Christmas Eve. No one is going to fix a busted axle the day before Christmas.”
That cured any family optimism fast. Matt noticed he’d become quite adept at that lately.
“Matt, you never used to be such a pessimist. You’ve changed.” And Jenny walked back to the SUV.
“Daddy? Is a broken axle bad?” Billy asked, looking very serious.
“We’ll get it fixed. Let’s go wait by the car.”
“If we don’t get to Grandpa’s for Christmas, will Santa still know where I’ll be? I don’t want him leaving my SuperScooter somewhere else.”
Matt pretended he hadn’t heard the SuperScooter comment. That damn toy was like an energy drain on his psyche. Still, five Ben Franklins were just too much. Yet, no way was he going to tell Billy that. And asking Jenny’s parents to buy it, then paying them back when he got another job—not an option. He may be unemployed and lost a deal on a new house, but he still had his pride. Now Matt could see a plume of smoke that wasn’t there earlier. Some household had a nice fire going. And probably no SuperScooter issues either.
“Daddy. What about my SuperScooter?”
Matt sensed his jaw muscles tense. “Billy—”
A loud honk cut him off. Matt watched in virtual disbelief as the truck rounded the far curve and drove their way. “Come on, Billy,” and he ran over to meet the tow truck.
While Matt, Jenny, and Billy watched, Purvis hooked the SUV up with chains and winched the rear wheels off the road.
“Where will you tow it?” Matt asked imagining the monster tow bill. Glacier Falls had to be at least twenty miles. He would put his AAA to work.
“Not far, less than half a mile to town.”
Jenny commented. “We heard the bells.”
“Yes ma’am. The town bells chime whenever someone is lost.” Seeing Jenny’s worried expression, he quickly added with grin. “Not to worry. Just an old custom before Christmas. This is some pretty desolate country and long ago, the bells would chime so folks could find a place to celebrate together. Once everyone was accounted for the bells would stop and the folks would gather in the square and sing. We get some real whiteouts some winters.”
Billy gazed up at the old driver. “So no one is really lost, Mister?”
“Not that I’m aware of, sonny.” Yet when Purvis said this Matt couldn’t help noticing Purvis’s eyes settle on him. Strange little dude.
Matt asked, “What town is this?” He’d pulled the road map out and was scanning the tiny print.
“St. Claws,” the driver replied. “C-L-A-W-S,” he spelled it.
Matt started to argue. “St. Claws? It’s not on the map.”
Purvis adjusted the collar on his coat. “Well, sir, I know where I live. If you’d prefer to wait for someone else—”
Jenny cut in. “No, Purvis. We just want the car fixed.”
Matt exhaled and glanced at the wounded vehicle, shaking his head. St. Claws. Wonderful. Of all the places to be stranded, it had to be some podunk town hidden in the mountains—heck, the town probably didn’t even have a decent mechanic. But what could he do? He was proverbially screwed.
He looked up at Purvis and tacitly nodded.
* * *
“Mommy, look at the lights!” Billy squealed.
“Pretty, aren’t they,” Jenny commented.
She and Billy sat in the back seat of Purvis’s truck while Matt rode up front. He was satisfied to sit in silence and let Jenny and Billy ooh and ah about the towns holiday decorations. All he could think about was how much the damn axle was going to cost to repair. At least the Christmas decorations had taken him out of Jenny’s sights during the brief ride into St. Claws. And Billy seemed happy. He glanced back at the SUV. Still secure—good. Purvis pointed out some of the town’s landmarks—Dancers Bar and Grill, Prancers Inn, and finally the town square, where a living towering Ponderosa pine was decorated with ornaments and tinsel and lights. There was only the one main street leading to the square and as far as Matt could tell no other exit out of town other than the way they came in. The entire town limits couldn’t have been over a single square mile. Several narrow side streets lined with small wood and stone homes spread up into the hillsides, and though they appeared old, still looked well-kempt and all were festively decorated. The townsfolk Matt saw, dressed in winter coats and boots and wool mittens and colorful neck scarves, all appeared busy going about their business, yet he noticed how they would wave at Purvis as the truck went by.
“That building there serves as the town’s courthouse and church,” Purvis explained taking a circular route around the tree.
The grey stone edifice was the only three-story structure in town and on top was constructed a steeple that held the bells.
“They aren’t that loud this close,” Jenny remarked, though to Matt they sure weren’t helping his headache. Ding-dong, ding-dong.
“Nope,” Purvis replied. “Most folks don’t even notice them.”
Yeah, right, Matt thought.
“Gosh, Mister, how tall is that Christmas tree?” Billy asked, sticking his head partway out the window and staring up.
“Over a hundred feet. Grows a couple feet each year.”
“Daddy, I can see lights and ornaments way at the top. How did they get up so high?”
“Elves,” Matt muttered, and Billy and Purvis laughed, though Matt hadn’t tried to be funny. He caught Jenny’s cool stare and realized she hadn’t missed his thinly veiled cynicism.
Purvis slowed and pointed to a quaint little shop with decorated windows just down from the inn. “That’s Vixens. In case you need to do some last minute shopping. Have some nice knick-knacks most folks find interesting.”
Matt just shook his head. “You got to be kidding. You have Dancers and Prancers and Vixens. Can you just get us to the mechanic? We’re somewhat time constrained.”
“Where were you folks going?” Purvis asked.
“To visit my parents in Mammoth Lakes,” Jenny replied from the backseat.
“Ah, real nice there. And only ’bout ninety minutes from St. Claws. When I was—”
“The mechanic,” Matt interrupted.
Purvis looked over at him. “But we’re here.”
“Where?” Matt asked, chagrined. The tow truck had parked in front of a small red brick building with an open two car garage, minus any cars. Like every other structure in St. Claws, the windows were frosted in bright colors and a string of blinking lights hung along the eaves. But no hydraulic lift or hoists or any other repair equipment one would expect in a mechanic’s shop. “Where’s the mechanic?” Matt asked perturbed.
“Me.”
“You?”
“Yes sir.” Purvis opened the door and climbed out. “Don’t you worry too much. It’s the day before Christmas so I’m not too busy. I’ll see what I can do.”
“The SUV’s got a busted axle. Where’s your tools?”
“No problem. I’ll get some help.”
“Jesus.” Matt shook his head in exasperation. He pulled out his cell and tried dialing again. “Damn, still no signal.”
“Yup, with them mountains all around, St. Claws is pretty locked in.”
Jenny eyed Matt. “Who were you trying to call? My father?”
“We don’t need your father. AAA. See if I can arrange a tow to Glacier Lodge. They’ll have someone better equipped to handle this situation.”
“Matt, we’re already here. Besides, I didn’t renew the membership after you lost your job.”
He glared at her. “Now you tell me.”
“Daddy, it’s okay,” Billy offered.
“No it’s not okay,” he snapped, immediately regretting it. But nothing was okay. It was all crap actually—the busted axle, the holidays, having to see Jenny’s parents and admitting he’d been laid off. He could hear his father-in-law now. ‘Told ya, Matt. No money in fortunes’—then he’d laugh at his own pun. Yeah, real funny.
Purvis stood by the winch. “Look folks, why don’t you walk on over to Prancers Inn. Maggie there will give you a room for cheap while I work. Stroll around St. Claws. We have a pretty special little village here. Oh and don’t neglect our beautiful tree.”
Matt shoved his hands in his pockets. “How much you think?” he asked, motioning impatiently to the SUV.
“For what?”
“How much to repair the axle?” Was this guy slow on the take?
Purvis chewed his lower lip a moment. “That depends.”
“On what. It’s an axle for Godsakes.”
“On what all needs to be done.”
Matt exhaled, sensing his frustration mounting. “Just do what you can,” then looking at Jenny, “I’ll head over to Prancers and see about a room.”
Jenny took Billy’s hand and started after him. She stopped after a few steps and turned. “Purvis, I’m really sorry about Matt. It’s just that, well, this last month has not been real good for him, or us.” She shrugged and added, “Thanks for your help. I realize it’s a lot to ask of someone—working on Christmas Eve.”
The diminutive driver simply nodded and said, “That’s why I’m here, ma’am.”
* * *
Maggie was frumpy, dumpy, but had a pleasant smile. “It’s been awhile since Prancers Inn had guests over the holidays,” she commented, showing Matt and Jenny a small room they could keep some of their belongings in while the SUV was worked on. “Plan on staying long?”
“No,” they both replied in near unison.
Billy ran past the travel bags to the window. Pulling the drapes aside, he shouted with glee. “Mommy, you can see the giant Christmas tree!”
Maggie smiled and clapped her palms together. “Just holler if you need anything.” Then she left them alone.
Matt reclined back on the double bed, locking his palms behind his head. He hadn’t done anything all day except drive, yet he felt like he’d just run a marathon. He had no energy. And didn’t Jenny and Billy notice how stifling the room felt? He closed his eyes but sat up when he heard Jenny pick up the Inn phone.
“Now who are you calling?” he asked pointedly, only because he knew.
She didn’t look at him. “Daddy.”
“Figures.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She was letting it ring. Matt watched her sit on the edge of the bed and frown, before she said, “Oh hi, Maggie. I was trying to call Mammoth Lakes.” Another pause and a deeper frown. “I see,” she said and replaced the receiver.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Billy had taken a seat on Matt’s overnight bag.
“No landline service either,” Jenny explained in obvious disappointment. “Maggie says a storm knocked down some lines last week but they should be repaired right after Christmas.”
Matt groaned. “Last week, and they’re still down. I can just imagine how long it’s going to be before the SUV is drivable. We’ll be stuck here until New Years.”
“Well, there are worse places. St. Claws is pretty,” Jenny offered. “And try not to be so rude to Purvis. He’s doing his best.”
“It’s not good enough.”
“What’s your problem, Matt? No one’s blaming you for what happened.”
“If you hadn’t made such a big deal about lunch in Glacier Lodge—”
“Whoa, are you blaming me?”
Matt ignored her and closed his eyes. Those damn bells sounded like they were donging between his ears. “Gawd, those freaking bells are irritating.”
Jenny cast a quick glance at Billy and shrugged. “I can barely hear them,” she said.
“Me, too, Daddy. I kind of like them,” Billy added.
Matt just shook his head. “Wonder what the cost will be for the axle?”
“It’s not a big deal. The important thing is we’re all safe and together,” Jenny said.
Matt sat up suddenly. “The heck ‘it’s not a big deal’. Our savings are depleted, we’re late on rent, I don’t even own my own house, and if Purvis doesn’t take a credit card—which by the way are maxed out—the Haskels will be in deep—” He caught Billy’s gaze and cut himself off.
Jenny rose and walked over to the window. “Daddy will help out.”
Matt flung himself back down on the pillow. “No he won’t.”
“If we ask him.”
“We’re not going to ask him.”
“Matt, what’s wrong with you?” She stood watching him, slowly shaking her head. “Is it us—Billy and I? Have we become a burden? All you seem to dwell on lately is money.”
“That’s because we don’t have any.”
“Matt, I don’t think I like you like this. It’s Christmas season. Have you forgotten?”
“Is that supposed to be a joke? You know what Christmas means—spending, that’s what. Gifts, travel, donations, more gifts.”
“Daddy, is Santa still going to bring me my SuperScooter?” Billy asked.
“Billy, please don’t mention that stupid SuperScooter now.”
“Matt!” Jenny scolded him sharply.
He laid back with his eyes closed.
“Billy and I are going out to look at all the decorations,” Jenny said after a long pause.
“Fine.”
“You want to come with us?”
Matt didn’t want to meet either’s gaze so he stared at the ceiling. “I’ll meet you by the big tree later. Think I’ll go check on the SUV.”
He waited until he heard the door close before rising. What the hell had just happened? A burden. Maybe Jenny had it wrong. Maybe he’d become the burden.
* * *
Matt watched from the room’s window as Jenny and Billy walked down the sidewalk. He saw Jenny hold out both palms and laugh and watched Billy clap and jump in the air. What…then he saw the tiny flakes coasting down around them. Clouds had moved in and it was snowing. Great. All their little trip needed was a blizzard. The weather forecast hadn’t mentioned any snow.
Jenny spoke briefly to another couple coming the other way, then she and Billy crossed the street toward the huge Christmas tree. Matt grabbed his jacket and exited the inn, trudging in the direction of Purvis’s garage. He ignored the light snow mist. If those stupid church bells would just cease, he knew his headache would lessen. Fat chance of that happening.
He spotted the tow truck and the SUV parked in the garage. But any hope of a quick repair vanished when he saw the bent axle tip hanging from under the chassis as before. He glanced at his watch, the one Jenny had given him their second Christmas together. Definitely better times. The SUV had been in Purvis’s possession for over an hour and not a damn thing had been done. Not even a winch was visible. He sensed his frustration grow. Not that he wanted to get to Mammoth Lakes so bad but Jenny and Billy did, and for a while earlier he’d entertained the idea if Purvis could get them on the road again in four hours, they could still make it to Jenny’s parents for a late Christmas Eve. Crap. Wasn’t going to happen except by miracle.
He approached the front door of the house adjacent to the mechanic’s garage. Ignoring the holiday wreath, he rapped on the wood a few times and rang the doorbell. Nothing. “Purvis,” he called out. No reply. “Shit,” he muttered, stomping away.
From the sidewalk, he gazed back toward the decorated tree, but didn’t see Jen or Billy. The snow continued to fall lightly. He blinked a few flakes from his eyes and debated returning to the inn. Maybe they’d gone back when the snow hadn’t let up.
Their room was vacant. Where the hell were they? His stomach growling reminded him of the reason he had taken the ill-fated detour. Glacier Lodge and a meal. He scratched at the stubble on his chin. What had Purvis said about a restaurant—“Dancers”, he suddenly remembered. Bar and Grill. Only an imbecile could forget a name like that in a town called St. Claws. He guessed that’s where Jenny and Billy were—eating lunch. Thanks for coming to get me, Jen.
He cut across the square toward the bar, hiking right past the huge Christmas tree. Hell, a good stiff drink couldn’t hurt.
DANCER’S BAR AND GRILL was lit up with blinking colored lights.
As soon as Matt opened the door, he heard someone call out, “Matt Haskel.”
Matt looked behind the bar. A big burly old dude with a thick white beard and dressed in overalls waved him over. “Come on in.”
Matt paused. “Do I know you?” he asked warily.
A grin the size of Texas spread across the bartender’s face. “We’ve been waiting for you, son.”
* * *
Matt gazed hard at the guy—or sure he’d never seen him before. Was this some kind of joke? He wasn’t in the mood unless the dude could pull a brand new shiny SUV axle out from under the counter. He glanced at the juke box where an old Bobby Helms’ rendition of Jingle Bell Rock was playing. Other than the bartender, no other locals were present. About what he’d expect on Christmas Eve. The place was empty.
“What’s your flavor?” the bartender asked while polishing a glass.
“My flavor?” Matt repeated.
“Yeah, what can I pour you?”
Matt took a step toward the bar, then stopped. “Maybe, later. Gotta find my wife and kid,” he said, though he couldn’t deny a cold beer and a couple of tequila shooters didn’t sound half bad. He needed something to make him forget the last couple of hours—better yet, the last entire month. Where the crap had Jen and Billy run off too anyway?
As if reading his mind, the big bartender gestured toward an open doorway. “Try the Grill in the next room.”
“Sure.” He began to move, and stopped. For just a moment he experienced the strangest feeling he was standing thigh-deep in heavy snow drifts—his legs turning cold, his toes numbed—then the sensation passed. Whoa, he muttered. Maybe he would take that drink after lunch. He walked to the doorway and paused when he spotted Jenny and Billy seated in a booth. All he could see were the backs of their heads.
“Damn,” Matt murmured as he watched Jenny talking on her cell phone. So she had found a signal. He sensed his face flush with anger knowing full well who she was talking to. He could easily imagine the conversation—We need some money, Daddy. Matt busted an axle on the SUV, we failed to qualify for a home, we’re stranded in St. Claws, a little shit town in the mountains—well, she probably wouldn’t be saying shit town—but for sure the conversation would eventually get around to borrowing some cash for Billy’s SuperScooter, and then the clincher. Daddy, can you drive down and pick Billy and I up while Matt waits on the SUV? Bullcrap. No way was he going to let that happen.
For an instant, he pictured himself sauntering across the sawdust hardwood floor and yanking the damn phone out of Jenny’s hand. He closed his eyes and counted to five. No, that wasn’t going to happen either. Why did all this shit have to happen over the holidays? Come to think of it, maybe he would let her rich daddy drive down and get them. Then Matt wouldn’t have to feel so burdened.
He turned and approached the bar, choosing a bar stool where he could keep one eye on the Grill exit.
“A change of heart, eh?” the bartender said. “What’ll it be?”
“Something to stop those damn bells.”
“My ears must be getting senile, I can barely hear ’em.”
“Try sitting on my side of the bar.” Matt quipped sarcastically. He couldn’t help noticing the small decorated Christmas tree mounted next to the register and his mood sank lower. “Give me a Corona with lemon and a shot of Patrón.”
He watched the big man open a refrig and pull out a cold beer and pop the top.
“How’d you know my name?” Matt asked.
“I know everybody that comes to St. Claws. I’m the town’s founder.”
“Whoopee-do. Everybody?”
“Yup.” He poured a double shot from the Patrón bottle.
“My wife and boy?”
“Jenny and Billy.”
Matt eyed the man suspiciously. “This is getting weird. Where’s my tequila?” As soon as the double shot was in reach, Matt downed it in one swallow, breathed out forcefully, then dropped the shot glass back on the bar. “Man, I needed that.”
Matt checked the exit—still no Jenny or Billy—and went back to staring at the old man as he adjusted a big red ornament on the little tree. “I know…it was Purvis,” he said.
The bartender replied, “Purvis?”
“Yeah, Purvis told you. If you and him are so close, why don’t you suggest he get busy on my SUV.”
“We’re working on your problem.”
“We?” He motioned for another shot. “What’s your name—and don’t tell me Santa.”
The bartender moved the Patrón aside and reached under the counter, removing a dark bottle with no label. He popped the cork and filled the shot glass. “Rudolph,” he said. “Rudolph Claws.”
Matt grimaced. “Rudolph. That’s as bad as Santa.” He stared at the bottle. It looked awfully old, if it’s scratched surface was any indication. No chips or cracks, though. “What’s that you’re serving me?”
“You’ll like it—much smoother than Patrón.”
“Nothing’s smoother than Patrón.” Matt lifted the glass and sniffed the amber liquid. Well. Maybe this was. He met the burly old man’s eyes. “This does smell good. Different. Kind of fruity, but not fruity.” He took a taste test. “Strong. What is it?”
“A well fermented liquor—ships in from way up north. Only use it on special occasions.”
Matt emptied the glass and shook his head vigorously. “Shit, Rudolph. Umm…that was good. Fill ’er up again.”
The bartender recorked the bottle and replaced it under the counter. “One per customer.”
“Figures—I get to liking something and then it’s taken away.” He swigged some of the Corona. “What’s with this town anyway? St. Claws, Prancers Inn, Dancers Bar and Grill, Vixens, Rudolph with your nose so bright. Crap.”
The big old man crossed his thick arms across his chest. “Mind if I ask you something, Matt?”
“Ask away. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“What do you have against Christmas?”
Matt’s eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
“Then I’ll tell you, Rudolph.” Matt finished the beer ignoring the buzz in his ears. At least the bells didn’t sound as loud. “Five weeks ago I was pulling down over eighty grand a year managing a fortune cookie manufacturer. I wrote fortunes, damn good ones—real witty. Then, because of Christmas, some Chinese corporation decides to dole out some holiday spirit and buy the company. Happy holidays, Matt Haskel, you’re out of a job. Ever try going job hunting during the fricking holidays? That’s one fortune I never would have written. So with no employment, I lose the option to buy a house. Jenny’s angry. No new house, so I get to spend the holidays with my in-laws who’ll have no shortage of advice on how to make my life better. Last thing I want to hear. You see, they got what I don’t have—money. Not to mention all the gifts, spending, traveling, rude people, Billy wants this five hundred dollar toy because it’s Christmas. That’s it, I rest my case, counselor—no Christmas, I have my job back, I afford a house, Jenny’s no longer angry, Billy gets his SuperScooter, no visiting my in-laws. Life’s great.” He shook his head slowly. “To tell the truth, Rudolph, right now I can’t think of anything good about Christmas time.”
Rudolph nodded slowly. “But Matt, haven’t you ever thought that Christmas is much more than gifts and spending. It’s about giving—love and respect—to those you love. It’s about family, friends, spending—but not money—spending time with those you want to be with. Where would you be without Jenny and Billy?”
Matt stared hard at the small ornamented tree. “I know where I wouldn’t be. Stuck in a backwoods town called St. Claws with a busted axle.” He motioned for another beer. “I’ll tell you what—sometimes I wish Christmas never happened.”
“You don’t mean that, son.”
Matt looked into the empty Corona. What a piece of crappola Christmas Eve he was going to have. “Yeah, Rudolph, I do. I wish Christmas never happened.”
Just then the big red ornament on the little tree quivered and dropped, shattering on the counter behind the bar.
An odd sensation washed over Matt and he was vaguely aware of a short man beside him. He looked over and tried to say “Purvis”, but the dizziness overcame him first. Slipping off the bar stool, he slumped to the floor.
* * *
The first thing Matt was aware of was no bells. He loved it. And his headache was gone! Wow. He gazed up at the face leaning over him. “Purvis?”
“Hey, Matt, you okay?”
Matt moved his arms and legs. Felt good. He sat up and grinned. “Yeah, I believe I am.” Standing, he caught Rudolph observing him with a curious expression. “Whoa, Rudolph, what was in that last shot—I feel like a million bucks.”
The burly bartender simply nodded and went about cleaning up the busted ornament. Matt didn’t see the little Christmas tree.
Now Matt became aware of another sound—not bells—but a loud whistling noise and he heard the door shaking. “Is that the wind?”
Purvis adjusted his wool cap over his ears and brushed some snow from his shoulders. “We got a storm brewing out there.”
Matt recalled only the light flurries and Jenny and Billy walking toward the big decorated tree and how Billy clapped and played with the snow flakes. “Not a blizzard, I hope.”
The tow driver shrugged. “It is winter.”
Matt frowned. What bad timing. He thought of Jenny and Billy. They’d be worried—hell, she’d probably blame him for the storm. He couldn’t believe it blew in so quickly. He started for the doorway of the Grill.
“Where you going, Matt?” Purvis asked.
“To check on the wife and kid.” He noticed Rudolph and Purvis exchange looks. “It’s the SUV, isn’t it,” he said, glaring at Purvis. “Have you done anything about the damn busted axle?”
Purvis averted his sharp gaze and leaned against the bar, accepting a cup of something steaming hot from Rudolph.
Matt’s expression hardened. “I’ll take your non-response as a no. Screw this crappy little town.” And he stalked for the Grill, calling, “Jenny, Billy.”
He stopped in the doorway. The booth where they’d been sitting was empty. A few other booths and tables were occupied and the patrons all looked up at Matt strangely. He approached the empty booth, aware of an odd sensation in his gut.
“Can I seat you, sir?” a waitress asked.
“No, I’m not really hungry.” He stared at the vacant seats a moment. Then asking, “Did you happen to see a woman in a blue down jacket with a young boy about this tall…” and he held his palm so high… “they were seated here.”
The waitress shook her head. “No one’s been seated there since I came on and that was a couple hours ago.”
“That’s wrong. They were just here. The woman was talking on her cell phone.”
“Nope. Sorry.”
“What do you mean, nope?” He checked his watch. My watch?—but it was the time that drew his attention. Only a couple minutes had passed since swigging down Rudolph’s drink. “They were right here.”
The waitress appeared uneasy. “If you change you mind about ordering, let me know.” She turned away.
Matt almost reached for her, he was so irritated. Outside he could hear the howling wind gusting so strong, the shutters to the diner vibrated. “Hey, don’t just walk away—”
“Matt.” It was Purvis in the doorway. “Jenny and Billy weren’t there.”
Matt shot the waitress one last dirty look and huffed out, brushing the little tow driver out of the way. Inside the bar, Rudolph moved about casually, arranging liquor bottles and glassware. Matt stomped up to the barstool where he’d been seated. “When I was on the floor, did you see Jenny and my son walk out?”
Rudolph touched his beard. “No, I didn’t, Matt.”
Angry, Matt stared at the empty counter. “Where’s your little Christmas tree?”
Rudolph shrugged. “What tree?”
Matt couldn’t quell the rising disquiet in his midsection. What the hell was going on? “The pathetic little tree you had there. Where is it?” Then realizing he was sounding foolish, he steamed, “Just forget it. I need to find my wife and son.” And he stormed for the exit.
Outside, the wind gusts nearly blew him sideways. Crap, it was a fricking blizzard. Those incompetent weather forecasters—wrong again. This was one Christmas Eve he was never going to forget. The cold and blowing snow dug into his face like tiny splinters of ice. Hell, it was ice. Snow and sleet. The drifts against the curb were already a foot high. God, Jenny must be freaking out.
Purvis caught up with him on the sidewalk. “Where you heading, Matt?”
“Leave me alone.” Matt ducked into a strong gust of freezing snow and hail, tugging his jacket tight around his chest. Damn the storm.
“Matt.”
“I’m going to Prancers. Jenny and Billy must be back at the inn.” He had to shout to be heard over the wind which sounded like a freight train speeding over hard metal rails. He passed the huge tree in the town square. What the hell…Matt rubbed the moisture from his eyes. Had the blizzard blown all the decorations away? No lights, no tinsel, no ornaments—all vanished. The big tree stood as naked as if stranded high on one of the surrounding ridges. Someone yanked the plug, he reasoned. That would explain the lack of lights. He picked up his pace, worry coating his insides.
“Matt, your wife and son won’t be there, either,” Purvis shouted above the gusts.
Matt ignored the short man. Careful not to slip, he pushed down the sidewalk, realizing something was different about the small homes along the way, but too cold and uncomfortable to give it much thought. How could everything go to shit so fast?
The entrance to the quaint inn materialized out of the impending whiteout and Matt rushed to the door and shoved inside. Ah, finally some warmth. Still, he felt a strange coldness in his chest. He heard Purvis enter behind him, but didn’t slow. He ran right through the small lobby, past Maggie, and down a short hall to his room.
“Matt,” Purvis called after him.
The key worked and Matt flung open the door. “Jenny, Billy.” He stopped in his tracks. Where the hell was their luggage? He saw his overnight bag, but not Jenny’s or Billy’s. A quick search—the bed, bathroom, closets—turned up nothing. The cold sensation spread to his gut. Tendrils of panic touched his spine. Were they still outside somewhere in the snowstorm? He raced to the window. Outside, he could just barely make out the big tree. No decorations, nothing. The homes, too, quiet and dark, except for a few lights in the barren windows. He whirled, only to find Purvis quietly observing him from the doorway.
“What the hell’s going on?” Matt spat.
“They aren’t here, Matt.”
“Where’s my wife and son?” he shouted.
“I’m sorry, Matt.”
The SUV. “Did they go to the car?”
Purvis’ expression turned solemn. “No one’s at the car. It’s still parked in my garage.” Then with a rueful grin, he added, “I fixed the axle.”
“We can drive it?” Finally, some good news.
“Of course, but better let the storm die down.”
Matt glanced once more around the room. Jenny and Billy must be at the SUV with their luggage. That was it. They were waiting on him. If he hurried and drove carefully, they might still make Mammoth Lakes for Christmas Eve—storm or no storm. He had chains. He grabbed his bag and dashed out of the room, barely giving Purvis enough time to jump out of the way.
He ducked back outside and felt the full brunt of the wind. Colder than before, it felt like he’d entered an arctic wind tunnel. He could hear his teeth shattering in his ears. Off his shoulder, he sensed more than saw the little tow driver.
Purvis’s garage door was batted down tight. “Open it!” Matt shouted.
“They aren’t inside.”
Matt lunged at him. “I said open it!”
Purvis shrugged under his coat and lifted the double door. Matt leaped inside and waited for Purvis to close out the storm. “Jen, Billy!” he shouted.
The little man turned on the garage lights.
Matt stared at the vehicle in disbelief. “That’s not our car.”
Purvis rubbed his palms together. “Sure it is.”
Matt felt another wave of panic. What was going on? “I don’t drive a Porsche.”
“You busted the rear axle this afternoon. I towed you in. It’s fixed, see for yourself.”
“This isn’t my car.”
“It is.”
“Jenny and I drive an SUV!”
“Matt Haskel.” Something in Purvis’ tone shut him up. “There is no Jenny.”
“Are you crazy?”
Purvis shook his head. “Matt, you don’t have a wife, you don’t have a son.”
Matt sensed the wave of panic swell. He rushed the short man. “Where is my wife and boy?” he yelled, lunging for the man, but only grabbing air.
Suddenly, Purvis stood behind him. Calmly, he replied, “They no longer exist in your life, Matt. Look at your watch.”
“What the hell does my watch have to do with—” He stared at the gold face, then looked closer. This wasn’t his watch!
“It’s a Panerai,” Purvis commented. “You bought it on sale for $7200 three years ago.”
Puzzled and angry, Matt shook his head. “Bullshit, I never heard of a Pan…whatever.”
“The Panerai is a luxury line of time pieces.”
Confusion clouded Matt’s expression. “Where’s my Seiko—the one Jenny bought me our second Christmas together?” He ripped the strange watch off his wrist. “Right on the back she had inscribed ‘Our love will last for all time, Forever, Jenny’.” He turned the watch over. Blank. Nothing, except his crazed reflection in miniature.
Purvis shrugged. “Jenny never gave you a Seiko because Jenny never knew you.”
Matt couldn’t stifle the pounding disquiet in his chest. “What are saying? You saw us together, you picked us up out on the road. Billy was with us!”
“There’s no Billy.”
“Damn you, Purvis. What kind of game are you playing?” Genuine fear began to eat at his psyche.
“No game, Matt.”
“Screw St. Claws, it is a game. I have a wife, I have a son, we drive an SUV. We plan on spending Christmas with my in-laws.”
“You have no in-laws. You aren’t married.”
Matt sensed himself losing his grip. He reached for the little driver and Purvis was suddenly by the garage door. Matt stared at the shiny sports car and then his expensive watch. “Tell me what’s going on, Purvis. It’s Rudolph, isn’t it, he’s responsible.”
“You’re responsible, Matt.”
“Dammit, enough, where is Jenny and Billy?” and he flew at Purvis only to crash into the garage door. He whirled and found the little guy posed by the Porsche. “Tell me!” Matt shouted over the wind buffeting the roof and walls. “Tell me!”
“Matt, your old college roommate never had that party.”
“Are you nuts? What party?”
Purvis smiled sadly. “How could there be a Christmas party if there was no Christmas?”
“What?” Matt ran his hands through his damp hair. Nothing’s making sense. Even in the cold he could feel the perspiration breaking out on his skin. He gazed at the small man, unable to stem the rising tide of panic. I wish Christmas never happened. “Oh no,” he groaned, sliding down against the garage door until he was seated on the cold hard floor.
Purvis squatted to eye level. “You see, Matt, you got what you wanted. Christmas never happened. Your roommate never had that Christmas party, so there was no party for you and Jenny to go to. You two never met that night ten years ago. She never gave you an inscribed Seiko because you didn’t spend that second Christmas together. There was no Christmas.”
Matt stared at the little man in horror.
Purvis tugged at his beard a moment. “Jenny married someone else—”
“No.”
“She had a daughter named Emily—”
“Stop.”
“See Matt, there is no Billy, because you and Jenny weren’t together to have Billy.”
“I said stop!”
Purvis stood. “You have your big house and fast car because you have no family you have to waste Christmas money on. You’re single, and because you spent all your free time working at FAR WEST FORTUNE COOKIES, Mr. Pellete made you part owner. Matt, you’re rich.”
“I said shut up!” Matt stood suddenly. “I don’t believe you. This is a dirty little trick you and Rudolph are playing.”
“Call her,” Purvis offered nonchalantly. “Your phone will work now.” The little guy had removed his cap and Matt saw the pointed little ears. Son of a gun, Purvis was an elf!
A new fear stabbed at Matt’s gut. What if the elf was right? He dialed Jenny’s number, surprised when the signal went through. A woman answered and a sense of relief washed over him. “Jenny,” he blurted out. “It’s Matt”
A pause. “Who?’
“Matt. Your husband. We have a son named Billy…”
“Creep,” and she disconnected.
Matt stared at the number, ensuring he’d dialed correctly. He had. Fear gnawed at his emotions. The voice had not been Jenny’s. He took a step toward Purvis. “Tell me where Jenny is.”
Purvis shook his head. “I’m sorry, Matt.”
“What? Is Jenny all right? Tell me, you have to tell me.” When Purvis didn’t reply, Matt rushed him again. “Tell me where my wife is!” He fell into the exotic sports car, whirling only to find Purvis back by the garage door. “Please, Purvis, tell me, I have to know she’s okay.”
Purvis watched him a long moment. “Sometimes, Matt, what we really wanted, we already had.”
“Just tell me. Tell me,” he pleaded.
“Because there was no Christmas, Matt, you and Jenny never met. She married a man from Nevada. Four years ago, they traveled to the Mediterranean. Jenny wanted to try scuba diving…”
Matt experienced a twist in his gut. “And…”
“There was an accident, Matt. Jenny drowned.”
“Drowned?”
“Yes, Matt, Jenny’s dead.”
“Nooooo!” Matt screamed. He clutched at his chest, then kicked the car violently, experiencing a sharp pain in his right foot. Images of he and Jenny and Billy together—laughing, tossing a football, cooking in their little kitchen—flooded his head until he felt he was going to explode. Hyperventilating, he raced at the garage door and instantly felt a blast of arctic air. Without it even opening, he found himself outside. The wind shrieked past his ears, cold clawed inside his jacket. He tripped in a drift and got back up. Jenny dead. No Billy. God, he was so alone. So lost. He looked for the bells in the church steeple.
Purvis stood calmly at his side. “There is no church, Matt.”
In horror, Matt gazed at the small dark houses, the huge barren tree in the square.
Purvis went on. “No decorations. No tinsel. No lights.”
Matt felt frozen in a bad dream.
“No Christmas. No family,” Purvis continued.
A feeling of emptiness rushed over him so intense Matt had to gasp for breath. NO! NO! NO! He began to run, tripping and stumbling in the snow.
Purvis moved effortlessly with him. “Where are you going, Matt?”
“Rudolph. I need to talk to Rudolph,” Matt gasped. He fell and struggled up again. What seemed like miles ahead, he spotted Dancers Bar and Grill. He fell a second time, and a third. “Rudolph!” he screamed. The drifts kept climbing higher. “Help me, Purvis. I need Rudolph!”
“Rudolph can’t help you.”
Fear and terror ripped at his insides. The snow blinded his eyes and the drifts numbed his legs and toes as he stumbled past the big tree. He fell again, crying. “I was wrong, Purvis,” he wept, struggling to his feet, only to fall again. Snow and ice filled his mouth and he choked. “I was so wrong. I don’t care about a big house or a fast car. I just want my Jenny and Billy.” He attempted to rise but his legs felt encased in ice. He gazed up and saw Purvis and Rudolph looking sadly down upon him. “Please, Rudolph. You have to help me. I want my family back. Please, I beg you.” Matt felt himself sinking deeper into the snow. “I beg you!” he screamed. “I want Christmas back! I do! I do! I do…”
Then total blackness descended over him.
* * *
He was warm again. Ah, it felt so good. No wind. No snow. Matt took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He was on the floor in Dancers Bar. A face leaned over him, not Purvis, but a beautiful familiar face. “Jenny!” he cried out. He reached up and pulled her close, embracing her tightly. “You’re really here,” he weeped.
A trace of embarrassment touched her expression. “Of course, I’m here, dear. Billy and I—”
Matt sat up. “Where’s Billy?”
“Right here, Daddy.”
Matt beamed. “Get over here and give your daddy a big-boy hug.” He sighed. “You both feel so good to me.”
Jenny glanced at the two men watching by the bar. “My husband gets emotional during the holidays.”
Purvis and Rudolph simply smiled and nodded.
Matt stood up and placed both palms on his wife’s shoulders. “It’s really you. Right here in front of me!”
Jenny ran her hands over Matt’s scalp. “Did you hit your head?”
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(Pages 1-35 show above.)