The Forever Gift

by Simone Evans

  A sigh escaped my mouth.

  “What’s a pretty thing like you so upset about?” The deep voice caused a shiver to radiate up and down my spine.

  Slowly raising my head I fell into deep pools of luminous brown. His gaze twinkled with humor and his wicked smile caused my knees to go weak. I clung to the counter in front of me as it was the only thing keeping me on my feet.

  “Your pizza will be done in a couple of minutes.” His grin widened and he reached out to stroke a finger over the back of my hand— “I promise.”

  “Eli,” a woman snapped from a doorway at the side of the kitchen area. “Those pizzas aren’t going to make themselves.”

  “Mia—”

  “They’ll be here in twenty minutes,” she interrupted.

  With a sigh, he headed back to his pizza board. “Just providing good customer service, Mia,” he shouted as she turned on her heel and disappeared.

  Shit, a player, I mumbled as I closed myself and breathed deeply to recenter and find my balance.

  “Here you go” — the man’s voice was only inches away and I jumped in surprise — “Your pizza.”

  “Th...Than... “ — I cleared my throat with irritation. I didn’t have time for this. “Thank you.”

  I reached out to take the pizza and he smirked as he held on to it for longer than necessary. He made a show of caressing his fingers over my own.

  “Name’s Eli.”

  “Well, Eli, I already tipped when I paid.” I snatched the pizza and turned for the door as the bell over it jangled.

  Cold air swirled inside along with a darkly dressed individual. It wasn’t until he turned and shook out his hat that I saw his badge gleam on his chest. A cop. I gulped down the fear that tried to surge inside of me. Mrs. Jenkins wouldn’t send a cop after me for the back rent.

  “Eli?” He called into the back of the restaurant.

  “Larry!” Eli returned the greeting. “You’re early. I’ll have the pies done in another fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m not here for the pizza,” the officer replied. “Eli Angelo, I need you to come down to the station with me.”

  “Why are you taking me in this time, Officer Jones?” The pizza-tossing Eli’s demeanor changed at the news and he emphasized the officer’s name with a bit of sarcasm.

  “Indecent exposure.”

  “For?”

  “Streaking through the Holiday Hotel lobby last night.”

  “I wasn’t there… I was out with Lance… I think.” Eli stammered. “What day is it?”

  “Thursday. Last night was the Baptist’s church service.” The cop glared at the pizza-man with disapproval.

  “Lance and I were just hanging out—”

  “Doing?” The officer stopped him mid-sentence.

  “Just a few drinks. I don’t remember leaving… oh… oh… oh shit! But, I was drunk!” He wailed as the cop stepped forward and went through the motions of cuffing his suspect.

  He began reciting the man’s rights as he pulled him from the restaurant.

  “You’re always drunk,” An older man who appeared behind the counter sighed sadly.

  Throughout Eli Angelo’s arrest, I stood in stunned silence until that last statement. There were a few moments while I watched the man toss pizzas and sing Christmas carols that I began to think what-if. During mom’s illness and after her death I’d always had an excuse why I couldn’t date — this was the first time I thought it might not be too bad.

  Then I’d seen the woman’s reaction to him, he’d gotten arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct — streaking a church service of all things — and that last sighed comment had locked down my thoughts of giving actual living a chance. Keeping to myself kept me safe. Kept me from being hurt. I was okay with being alone. Really, I was.

  I rushed to my car and settled in to eat my pizza. Flipping back the lid, a smile awaited me — one made out of pepperoni. My heart squeezed at the thoughtfulness. I knew he’d done it because he’d noted my stress.

  Eli Angelo was a player, a troublemaker, and I knew I should stay away from him. But, damn did he tempt me to take a chance.

  Chapter Three

  My piece-of-shit car rattled as I drove down a long driveway. The drive wasn’t much better than the road I’d turned off, both were covered in a thin layer of gravel which did nothing to keep my tires from slamming into potholes that I feared would break an axle. Back in Las Vegas, the roads were bad but not this bad.

  Gripping the steering wheel I rounded a bend. A two-story white-washed farmhouse stood in a large square of grass. A tree line separates the grass from the empty fields that lay beyond.

  The home was secluded and far off of the road. I’d only caught glimpses through the trees as I approached from the road. During the growing season, the farm was probably even more hidden. I parked in a larger gravel area near a garage and took several moments to take in the house.

  There were black shutters, a wraparound porch, a large red barn behind the house, and a few other outbuildings. I could just make out where someone had landscaped around the edges of the porch and created a small garden or flower bed directly in front of a large bay window.

  In the center of the garden was a sign on a post. The sign said ‘Ohio Century Farm’ and had a small plaque which dangled beneath it which read – ‘Wood Family Farms, EST. 1835.’

  A shiver ran down my spine and the hairs on my arms stood straight up. I’d always felt a bit rudderless. I’d never known who I was, I had no history… no roots. My mom had shared very little about my grandparents and she knew nothing about my father or his family. But here… here was a sign indicating a part of my family had been on this land for over a hundred years. How many generations of Woods had lived and died right here on these few acres of dirt?

  Something stirred inside me as I took another look around the property with newly opened eyes. The farm was surrounded by empty fields which were only cut up by the house, the tree line, and the driveway. I could even make out the remains of this year’s crops poking up from the hard ground. Curiosity stirred as I wondered what crops had grown in the soil.

  “Another One Bites the Dust…” Filled the car and I screamed as I startled.

  Immediately covering my mouth with my hand, I chuckled at myself. I really needed to change the damn ringtone.

  Snatching up my phone from its holder on the dash, I swiped the screen and brought it to my ear.

  “Hello.”

  “Are you going to sit in your car all day or come inside?” Amelia Wood chuckled as she spoke.

  “Of course,” I replied as I turned off the car.

  Even dragging my feet I was inside the door of my grandmother’s house in only a few minutes.

  “Come on into the kitchen,” Ms. Amelia called over her shoulder as she headed deeper into the house. “I’ve got lunch on the table.”

  I followed my grandmother into a large kitchen. Several windows allowed in light which only accentuated the bright yellow and white decorated room. Stainless steel appliances, cast iron pans hanging from a rack over a center island, and expensive-looking countertops completed the room. It was a kitchen any chef would appreciate. Hell, I was clueless when it came to cooking and even I appreciated the warm and cozy atmosphere.

  “I just had the kitchen remodeled,” Amelia Wood’s voice came from the other side of the room.

  A half-wall divided the kitchen from a kitchen nook filled with what appeared to be an antique kitchen table and chairs in the center and a china hutch against one wall. The blue paint on the wall complemented the yellow of the kitchen.

  “It’s lovely,” I finally muttered.

  “Take off your jacket and have a seat, Clara. I may have gone a bit overboard when I cooked lunch.” The older woman patted the tabletop in front of a chair at her side.

  “I… uh… just ate.”

  “Oh…” Ms. Amelia’s face fell as she looked at the bowls and plates sitting in front of her. “Would you like
a drink?” She started to rise but I waved at her to remain seated.

  “I’m fine. You asked me to visit and.. uh… here I am.” I waved my hands in the air with a flourish and a weak smile.

  “I’m glad you came,” she smiled and looked down at the fried chicken on her plate. “Would you mind sitting with me while I eat?”

  “Sure… sure…” I mumbled as I settled in a wooden chair on the opposite side of the table from her.

  We sat in uncomfortable silence as she nibbled at the food she’d prepared.

  “Were you expecting company?” I asked. “It’s just that this is a lot of food for one person,” I explained.

  “Just you, my dear.”

  “Me?” My head turned sharply as I looked at her in shock.

  “Hope, Clara. Hope. I’ve been making breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day since we last talked in hopes you’d take me up on my offer for a visit.” My grandmother glanced into the kitchen. “I have food for an army in the fridge.”

  She chuckled and pushed her plate away.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Clara, but what changed? I hoped you’d come but the truth is, I didn’t think you would. Not really. This” — she waved at the food-laden table — “is just a foolish old woman living a fantasy.”

  “I’m sorry” — I began then stopped and looked at her for several moments before continuing — “I needed a change and decided to move. I’m on my way to my new home and… well... It would have been rude not to visit.”

  I see,” Ms. Amelia murmured and leaned back in her chair. “Are you in trouble, Clara?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” I replied too quickly.

  “Clara, if I’ve learned anything over all of these years it's not to waste time with lies.”

  With a sigh, I dropped my head to the tabletop. “Life sucks,” I mumbled into the wood.

  “It sure can,” my grandmother agreed.

  “Amelia?” A voice called from the front door as I heard someone stomping their feet.

  “In here, Franny,” Ms. Amelia called out as she rose from her chair. She stopped long enough to pat my hand before going into the kitchen. “Do you drink coffee, Clara?”

  “Yes,” I replied to the unexpected question. “With lots of cream and sugar.”

  Beginning to rise to see if I could help, I was stopped by a woman entering the room with a huge smile.

  “I think we’ll have snow by the we— Oh, my — you must be Clara.” She went from complaining to gushing while she rushed forward and grabbed my hands. “You look just like your mama.”

  “Not really.” I felt myself blush.

  My mother had been gorgeous — she should have been in the movies — with the perfect fair complexion, blonde hair, and an hourglass figure. I inherited curly brown hair, an olive skin tone that tanned easily, and an average body from my father’s genetic donation.

  “It’s the eyes…” My grandmother’s voice came from the kitchen. “The Yost green eyes.”

  “It’s the va-va-voom” — my grandmother’s friend moved her hands in the air — “The whole package. The aura… the charm.”

  I shook my head in disbelief as I turned to find Ms. Amelia carrying a tray laden with coffee mugs, a plate of cookies, and a couple of small containers with a delicate blue floral design on them. Everything matched and appeared antique — expensive.

  “Yost?” I questioned as I slammed a door on my thoughts and stepped back out of her way.

  “My maiden name. That’s how I met your grandpa” — Grandmother chuckled — “all through school we sat next to each other. Back then teachers always made you sit alphabetically.”

  “Really?” Shock filled me at her words. “How long?”

  “How long what?” Ms. Amelia set the tray down and moved the mugs to sit in front of three chairs.

  Grandmother’s friend took the seat I’d been in previously which forced me to take one next to Ms. Amelia.

  “When did you first meet your husband?” I clarified.

  “Kindergarten... and he always told me he knew from that first tug of my pigtail” — Amelia Yost Wood let out a sigh as she thought of the past — “I never... dated anyone else. Your grandfather was so handsome.”

  “Wow.” Saying I was shocked would be an understatement.

  “When we grew up, kids grew up and started their families in the same place they were born. Not many moved away. This farm has been in your grandpa’s family for five generations. The Wood family owned most of the county at one point but it was split up and given to children to begin their own livelihoods over the years. But, this plot of land… this house… it has remained in the Wood name until this day.” A sad look crossed my grandmother’s face at the end of her speech. “That ended with my Fredrick though.”

  “I’m sorry,” I replied automatically. “I wish I’d had a chance to meet him.”

  “Why thank you, Clara.” Grandmother patted my hand and gave me a soft smile. “Your mother and grandpa were always two peas in a pod. So much alike.”

  “Mom never spoke much about either of you. Usually only around the holidays and... It um…” How do you tell someone that they’d been dead as far as you knew? “It was always in the past.”

  “I’m not surprised. The last time we spoke to Nat… the yelling… the anger… The next morning she was gone.” A tear slipped from my grandmother’s eye.

  “Enough of that!” Franny fluttered her hands in the air in front of them. “Has she agreed to the date?”

  “Date?” For some reason, the word snagged my attention.

  “I haven’t asked yet, Franny.” My grandmother glared at her friend.

  “Mrs. Wood —”

  “None of that, now. Ms. Amelia or Grandma, please.” Amelia Wood offered me a bowl of sugar. A small spoon stuck into the bowl allowed me to add some to my coffee.

  “I’m guessing there is something you wanted to talk to me about, Ms. Amelia?” I waited as I was offered a small pitcher of cream.

  The clink of our spoons was the only noise for what seemed like forever. Most likely only a few seconds passed.

  “Clara… well… you see… I need you to do me a favor. I was hoping you’d agree to stay with me for a few days and fulfill a responsibility I have.”

  “And…” I let the single word hang in the air.

  “It’s the Silent Night Auction you see. Every year the town holds a silent auction… of… um… eligible bachelors.” Pink brightened my grandmother’s cheeks as she fiddled with her own coffee.

  “It’s for the children,” Franny chimed in. “All of the proceeds are used to buy Christmas for underprivileged families. Dinner and presents to give them at least one day of joy.”

  “So many things have changed over the years. Farming isn’t what it used to be and other job opportunities come and go… there’s always so many without a job.” Ms. Amelia looked at me hopefully.

  The thought of kids without Christmas had memories swarming. As a single mother, my mom had always worked hard to provide for me. But… the holidays were always difficult. I could tell she wanted to give me the picture-perfect memories she had of her own childhood. Until she’d finished her degree and got the secretarial position, Natalie Wood had worked two jobs most of the time. One job was to pay the rent and the other — at a diner — was because she got reduced meals.

  One Christmas after I started school, we’d been added to one of those trees — the ones where people pick a card and then deliver the gifts for the family based on their needs. All I’d ever wanted was for my mom to have a day off with me. I remember the helper talking me into asking for a doll and some winter outerwear.

  “You see… I always bid on one of the gentlemen in the auction, but this year my doctor doesn’t think the date would be… uh… good for me.” My grandmother’s voice snapped me from my dark thoughts of the past.

  Life had always sucked. But, at least I’d had my mom before.

  “Originally I’d bid on Nikko
Angelo. He’s the owner of a local restaurant and a widow. I figured I’d be safe. But, this morning I got a call from the mayor and…”

  I stopped listening at the name Angelo. My thoughts filled with huskily sung Christmas carols and the smells of warm yeast and basil. Eli Angelo. Bad boy or not, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I still felt the touch of his fingers where he’d brushed them over my hands.

  “Eli’s really a good boy. It’s just been difficult for him when he lost his brother.” Grandmother’s voice pulled me from the heated direction of my thoughts.

  “Lost his brother?” I whispered.

  “Yes. Tomo Angelo died in a car crash last year. He and Eli were twins. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to lose someone who is so connected to you.”

  “The poor boy is just trying to live life to the fullest. His grandfather is a stuffy old ass.” Franny practically snarled — she obviously didn’t like Eli’s grandfather.

  “Franny…” My grandmother reached out to grasp her friend’s hand before turning back to me. “The mayor has assigned Eli community service for his most recent stunt and part of that is taking his uncle Nikko’s place as my date.”

  “So you want me to go on a date with Eli Angelo?” Emotions rushed through me — shock, aggravation, excitement, lust — it was all there.

  “Yes. He’s your age and you’ll have a much better time on the date than I would.”

  “And, what does this date entail?” Shock filled me as I spoke the question.

  I shouldn’t care. I mean, my grandmother was using me for something which meant she probably didn’t have a thing for me for Christmas. Maybe I could work at the restaurant or maybe the hotel until I could earn enough money to get somewhere to start over.

  “The Snow Ball.” Both of the older women sighed dramatically.

  “A what?”

  “It’s a dance the town puts on. It allows the winners of the bachelor auction a place to have their dates and those who don’t win can still have a fun night.” Franny explained.

  A dance. I’d never been to a dance. By the time we could have afforded it, mom had become sick and we couldn’t.