Love Like the Dickens: A Heartswell Harbour Romance

by Mavis Williams

  She had hoped he would show up at the train station to say goodbye.

  Paisley drove her after she left Proxly’s office in a daze, arriving at the platform just in time to check in her small suitcase and hug her new friend tightly.

  “Don’t worry,” Paisley had tried to reassure her. “You haven’t seen the last of Oscar Lake, I’m certain of it.” Her words were kind, but Agnes could tell by the way Paisley kept looking toward the doors of the station that she was also surprised her father hadn’t shown up.

  Agnes leaned against the window. Acres of snow-covered trees passed in a blur of white broken occasionally by wide fields or frozen lakes.

  She didn’t know where she was going. The train was headed toward Halifax, she knew that much. Paisley had, with her usual charm, informed the conductor that Agnes was not to know which station she was getting off at until the train arrived.

  “This is highly unusual.” The conductor had eyed Agnes’ ticket suspiciously, but Paisley pulled him aside and whispered in his ear until he grinned and looked at Agnes as if it was Christmas morning all over again. Not the usual reaction she got when people found out her dead sister was sending her on fools’ errands with a bucket list of questionable choices.

  He stopped by her seat as the train rumbled onward, holding her ticket in his hand and tapping it on the seat back in front of her.

  “A trip with an unknown destination, eh?” He paused. “And this is your sister’s idea?”

  “She felt I needed to be more spontaneous,” she said. “This is the last item on a rather challenging list.”

  “I’ll tell you when to get off, Miss, no fear.” He winked at her. “I hope your destination proves to be exactly what you need.”

  She thanked him as he walked away, feeling like she had just met the real Ghost of Christmas Present.

  She had no idea what to expect from Paisley’s itinerary. She’d probably end up in the middle of nowhere and have to call Oscar to… she sniffled. She’d have to call Nick, she corrected herself, to come drive her home.

  Oscar was off the list.

  Love—she sighed—Love was off the list.

  She took a deep breath and slid her finger under the flap of the envelope, carefully peeling it open to reveal a single sheet of paper.

  Dearest, dearest Agnes,

  I’m dead.

  ‘Savannah was dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. Dead as a doornail.’

  Agnes wiped a tear and lowered the page to her lap. Of course, Savannah would have to throw in a line from Dicken’s with her usual irreverence. Savannah wrote this at the end, when they both knew she was going, but neither one could admit it. Eternal hope, that was their motto. We can beat this. Everything is going to be ok.

  Agnes smiled at the memory of those shared words, even at the very last moments.

  I’ve instructed Martin to deliver this to you after Christmas, since I have perfect faith that you will have found a Dicken’s play and taken care of Bucket List #3. I know, I know. You probably puked backstage, but I bet you’re glad you did it. Not the puking. That’s just gross. The acting. Being part of a team, with people and fun and lights and action!

  I’m sorry sweetie! I just knew you would need a distraction this Christmas.

  I hope it worked.

  I missed you every day, Agnes wanted to say. I will miss you every day, forever. It had worked though. She remembered the birth of little Ellen on Christmas Eve and felt such a rush of love and gratitude she had to dig tissues out of her purse to staunch the renewed flood of tears. An elderly woman across the aisle looked at her with an expression the reminded her so much of Mrs. Crawley performing at her Scroogish best that she smiled despite her tears. Was it possible that she would miss Irenia Crawley?

  By now you should be engaged to Sexy Nick.

  Ha!

  I’m kidding, but I really wish I was there to see him, and to be able to help you judge the level of sexiness of the grown up Sexy Nick, since I know you prefer a bookish kind of handsome over a romance-novel kind of handsome. I go for brawn, you go for brains. Maybe Nick has both!

  Agnes laughed out loud. The lady across the aisle frowned.

  Nick was many things; kind, funny, live-out-loud brazen… but he was definitely not romance novel handsome. She would love for Savannah to meet him. Even at his most awkward, Nick was a fun guy to be around.

  By now I expect you’ve fulfilled most of the items on the list. Maybe you are in jail after sleeping in a bookshop overnight. Tell them your dead sister made you do it. Or maybe not, they might lock you up for being crazy instead! Maybe you’re a runner now. Maybe you’ve said yes to strange moments and random options to do something different. Maybe you ate all the cookie dough, without me.

  I hope you eat all the cookie dough, Aggie.

  I have one more thing for you on the list. The last one, and the most important.

  Agnes closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She knew what it was, without even reading it. It felt like Savannah sat right beside her. She could hear her voice and the funny way she sometimes lisped th words. She could imagine her whispering so loudly that everyone would hear her anyway. She could feel her warm and alive beside her, giving her the only gift she had left to give.

  One final item on the Bucket List.

  It was the one thing Agnes couldn’t do.

  Twenty-Four

  Oscar had opted for the great coat and top hat after all. Complete with tails, and a cane with a silver knob.

  He wasn’t sure it was a good idea, he wasn’t sure if he looked a fool, he wasn’t sure why top hats had gone out of fashion since his sat very snugly on his head and made him feel quite dapper, but he was certain it helped him with the harried ticket master when he ran up to the counter at the train station, breathless. It was a two hour drive from Heartswell to Halifax. He had made it in an hour and a half. He bowed to the woman behind the counter who stared at him with wide eyes.

  “Madame,” he began. “I have driven like a madman through the snow to beat the train.”

  He took off the top hat, sending a sprinkle of snow over the granite tiles of the depot as he gestured toward the train that was just pulling into the station.

  “I am in desperate need of a bus ticket, but it is essential that the destination not be printed on the ticket.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” The woman frowned at him, then turned away. He glimpsed the name on her ID as she moved away from him.

  “Muriel!” Several people nearby stopped talking to look at him. Muriel turned toward him, her expression that of a woman who had seen it all and wasn’t impressed with any of it. He would have to pull out all the stops. “Muriel, do you believe in love?”

  “Ah jeeze, is this one a those secret video things? Like, are you gonna let me make an arse of myself and then all of a sudden I’m on youtube or something?”

  “No, no. It’s nothing like that.” He looked nervously over his shoulder. Agnes would be out of the train any minute. “This, Muriel… this is a Christmas miracle.”

  Several people nearby stopped chatting to listen.

  Oscar looked at them beseechingly. It takes a village, he thought, feeling like a child in need. “I need to prove to the woman I love that I am not an idiot, because I behaved in a terribly idiotic way, and I need to buy her a ticket to send her back to me, but she can’t know the destination because her dead sister made the rules. All I want in the entire world is to have Agnes back in my arms where I should have kept her all along.”

  He took a huge gulping breath. His small audience smiled at him, some nodding as if they could completely imagine what an idiot he had been.

  “Muriel. Please. Print me a ticket for the bus. Just leave off the destination.”

  Muriel frowned at him.

  “I can’t do that,” she said. Oscar sagged. He looked across the station again and caught a glimpse of Agnes getting off the train. “How do I know you’re not an abus
er or something. You look kinda shifty.” She eyed him up and down as if checking to see if he was armed.

  “Come on, Muriel,” a young man stood at Oscar’s elbow. “This is love, man. Break the rules for love.”

  Oscar clapped the young man on the shoulder. They both nodded expectantly at Muriel who looked like both breaking rules and love itself were off limits. She glared at her computer, hitting the keys and grumbling. Her printer ground out a ticket. She pulled it out and looked at Oscar over the top of the page.

  “I ain’t never been one to stand in the way of love,” she said. “’Specially at Christmas. I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”

  She passed Oscar the ticket, and a thick black marker. He thrust his credit card at her and scratched out the destination.

  “Muriel, you are a saint,” he said. Muriel rewarded him with a tiny hint of a smile.

  Now what? How would he get the ticket to her?

  “You want me to deliver?” The young man smiled at him. He was short and thin with a ponytail and a backpack on his shoulder. “I can even try to make sure she doesn’t read the header on the bus.”

  Oscar rammed the top hat back on his head and gave the man the ticket. “Her name is Agnes. She’s wearing a red winter jacket and she’s beautiful.”

  They looked out the station window. Oscar pointed at Agnes making her way down the platform toward the entrance.

  “I’m trusting you, young man.” Oscar grabbed the man’s hand and shook it.

  “I’m Tim.” He smiled, looking a bit like a Cratchit who could do with a good turkey dinner.

  “Of course, you are.” Oscar nodded.

  Tim gestured at Oscar’s top hat. “I know.” He grinned. “God bless us, every one. I get that a lot this time of year.”

  Oscar clapped him on the shoulder and with another backward glance to see Agnes coming through the terminal doors, he dashed away, the tails of his great coat billowing behind him.

  ∞∞∞

  Agnes walked across the gleaming tiles of the train station, realizing she was indeed back in Halifax, back where she started, and back to being alone. She would go to her cold apartment, eat a quiet dinner, and cry over the final paragraph of Savannah’s letter.

  She approached the exit doors where a small crowd milled about expectantly, all looking in her direction, whispering to each other and grinning. She looked back over her shoulder to see what they were waiting for.

  “Agnes?”

  She whirled around, not recognizing any of the faces beaming at her from the gathering of travellers. Everyone was bundled against the cold, and many had knapsacks or suitcases. Everyone was smiling.

  “Yes?” She slowed to a stop, hesitantly looking from one to the other.

  “My name is Tim.” A young man strode forward and took her hand warmly in his. “I’m not tiny, I know, but I’m close enough.”

  She didn’t know what to say. He passed her a bus ticket. The destination was hastily scribbled out with black marker. She looked up at Tim’s friendly face and grinned from ear to ear.

  “No destination,” she said, her throat suddenly tight.

  “I think this will work best if you put in your headphones, so you can’t hear the driver. And maybe… close your eyes? We’ll guide you to the bus.” He gestured at the crowd who all nodded enthusiastically. Tim spoke over his shoulder to a stout woman behind the ticket counter. “Muriel, since you are the angel orchestrating this little bit of Christmas magic—” Tim was obviously a charmer— “can you inform the driver about this special passenger? So she can be delivered to her destination, unawares?”

  Muriel didn’t look like Christmas magic was her thing, but she nodded curtly and picked up the phone.

  Tim took Agnes, still speechless, by the elbow, and she closed her eyes.

  ∞∞∞

  #10 Fall in love

  I realize this isn’t something I can orchestrate from the grave. I probably couldn’t if I was still alive either, but … it would be cool to be still alive, wouldn’t it? But here I am, and there you are. You are still alive, Agnes, and you have to do this all by yourself. You have to fall in love.

  There’s no time limit on it. It doesn’t have to be before your next birthday, or the next full moon, or before the next season of Outlander. (I’m gonna miss that show. Do dead people miss things? I’ll miss you. And Jamie Fraser. In that order.) You just have to be open to love, open to meeting someone and letting them in. You have to allow yourself to be loved.

  That’s the whole purpose of the list. You get that now, right?

  I considered every item as a possible way for you to meet someone.

  #1 Eat all the cookie dough: Ok, yeah. This one isn’t romantic, but… delicious.

  #2 Sexy Nick: Who knows? Sparks may fly!

  #3: Perform in a production of Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” : I love the Scrooge story! And community theatre is a great place to meet tall, dark and handsome strangers who aren’t afraid of libraries. I know that matters to you. Who knows, maybe you and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come will hit it off!

  #4 Kiss a total stranger: I know, I know. Risky. Dangerous. You’ll figure it out, and it will be fun!

  #5 Sleep overnight in a bookshop: You’re thinking “how can break and enter help me find a man?”. Cops, Agnes. If you get arrested, you’ll meet hot cops. Men in uniform. Need I say more?

  #6 Train to run 5k: I know you. I know you and cookie dough. I know you and pizza. I know your first freak-out about romance will be your belly and your arse and— you’re welcome. Keep running. Your arse will thank me. Also, hot guys in spandex shorts. Am I right?

  #7 Say yes to random opportunities: And then, hopefully, you’ll say yes to the people you meet in those random moments, and one thing will lead to another and before you know it, you’re at number eight…

  #8 Name your firstborn after me: Unless it’s a boy. And I know you aren’t super keen on having kids, so I’ll be okay if you get a cat instead. Or a dog. Anything but a goldfish.

  #9 Take a trip without knowing the destination: I love this one. It’s hard, because everyone thinks you should always know exactly where you’re heading, but I think you can figure this one out too. You may need help, from friends, who you might have met, you know, on your journey through the Bucket List. Wink wink. Again, you’re welcome.

  And finally, mystery item number ten:

  #10 Fall in love

  I know you will try not to. Whoever he is. However you meet. You will try not to need him, because that would be selfish, and demanding, and needy. Am I reading your mind yet? Should I add risky, dangerous and unpredictable to your list of objections?

  Find someone, Agnes. Find someone and live.

  I love you forever.

  ∞∞∞

  She spent the entire bus ride listening to the Les Miserables soundtrack on the highest volume her headphones would allow. She could hear the murmur of the driver announcing stops, but she steadfastly shut her eyes when they pulled into a station, only peeking twice as they rumbled down the highway. All she saw were trees and snow. Trees and snow could be anywhere in Nova Scotia, two days before New Year’s Eve. She wasn’t even certain what direction she was heading. She felt a giddy elation as the bus trundled on, taking her somewhere and just letting whatever intervention had happened, to simply happen.

  As the bus slowed down, pulling off the highway in the dark of early evening, she held her pendant tightly. Her anger at her sister was gone. She knew it like she would know a window had been opened in a closed room. And with its absence came acceptance and release. Savannah was gone, and as much as that hole in her life would never be filled, and she would miss her sister’s energetic presence in her life, she could accept her loss without rancour. Savannah’s list hadn’t been in judgement of Agnes’ life.

  It had been affirmation.

  All this time, Agnes had felt that Savannah had been pushing her, forcing her to do things because her life wasn’t good
enough, wasn’t daring enough for her more outgoing sister’s tastes. That Savannah judged Agnes and found her wanting. But it wasn’t that at all. Savannah wanted Agnes to be happy, to support her in finding happiness without her.

  It was loving and kind… and sad.

  She had accomplished #10. She had fallen in love. It just hadn’t been returned.

  She wiped away more tears as the bus pulled into the station. She peered out at the streetlights over the parking lot. The Lighthouse was lit up with Christmas lights. Eddies of snow drifted lazily around the structure like a wedding gown, shining with a silky shimmer.

  She was back in Heartswell Harbour.

  Twenty-Five

  Agnes waited until everyone was off the bus.

  What was she doing here?

  She slowly made her way down the aisle, nodding at the driver as she got off the bus. The air was brisk, the cold breeze coming off the ocean lifted her hair, tangling it in snowflakes. She stood uncertainly as the other passengers dispersed, some greeted by loved ones, some walking off purposefully alone.

  Should she go to the Nook and back to the apartment? Should she text Paisley and ask what was going on, because surely this was Paisley’s doing?

  The bus pulled away, and the last of the passengers drove off. She stood, looking at the Lighthouse. This was not the destination she had imagined. This was the starting point, so how could it also be the ending?

  A man appeared from behind the Lighthouse, moving slowly through the swirling silver snow.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  He was tall, thin and so dark against the glow of the Lighthouse he was almost a silhouette. As he drew near, she recognized the top hat and tails, the Victorian costume making him appear impossibly romantic, as if he had stepped out of the pages of a novel. She recognized the dark eyes, and the dimples.