Then I forced myself to calm down, and I sat down on the couch and took a deep breath.
And I thought: Josh Martin.
So I called him up and he says, “hey!”
It struck me as kind of odd—like he sounded surprised to hear from me. Happy, but surprised.
So I say “hey” and then he says, “it’s funny you called me. I’ve been thinking about you ever since we ran into each other at the coffee shop. Savannah—would you like to go out with me sometime?”
I kind of gasped.
“But—what about Clare?” I said.
“I’m sorry?”
The exact same thing her manager had said.
My mind spun, hard, trying to figure out how I was going to deal with this without coming across like a complete idiot. “Clare Jordon,” I said. “I thought you were dating Clare Jordon?”
“Uh—no. Who told you that? I don’t even think I know a Clare Jordon.”
I was standing near the couch.
Now I flopped down onto it.
This was too, TOO strange.
I heard him kind of cough, like he felt a little nervous. “So, uh, anyway—now that we’ve cleared that up—what do you say? Saturday night, maybe?”
What could I do? This was Josh Martin. The Josh Martin. And it wasn’t like Clare wanted to date him, too.
“Okay, sure,” I said, my voice kind of wobbly with the shock of it all.
“Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?”
SAVANNAH
One last thing you might be wondering about.
Her parents.
I checked on them, too.
I was very discreet, of course! I mean, after I realized Josh had no memory of Clare, I wasn’t about to barge up to her parents and ask them if they’d heard from their daughter, who was my best friend, who’d disappeared into the woods with a strange man.
But we’d grown up in the same town.
I was able to ask around.
Here’s what I found out.
As far as anyone was concerned, the Jordons have only two children. Both are sons. Kyle, two years older than me, is a decorated Army veteran. Stefan, four years older than me, got married a couple years ago. His wife has a baby on the way now.
Of course I have Clare’s notes from her last Christmas with her family. And when I was first thinking everything through I thought, maybe I should give the journal to her mom.
But would it mean anything to her?
I decided it wouldn’t.
At the most, it would seem strange.
And who knows? It might upset her.
I do like to think that even if they don’t remember Clare, that last Christmas with her still happened, somehow. Which, if you think about it, is the nicest way for it to happen, right?
They had a beautiful Christmas day, and shared their love with her. And they never had to say good-bye …
Me, on the other hand …
I miss her.
I miss her something awful …
I eventually gave away most of her stuff to charity.
But I kept her Christmas decorations.
And now that Josh and I are together—we bought a house last summer—I have lots of space to decorate.
Of course I always think of her as I’m putting the decorations out. Her collection of stuffed reindeers. Her ceramic candlesticks shaped like Christmas elves. Her hand-blown glass Christmas tree ornaments.
And Josh rolls his eyes. “You are soooo into Christmas, babe,” he says to me.
And I nod and think yeah, you’re right. I’m so into Christmas …
And I still think that maybe I’ll see her again someday.
So I look for her, every year, especially around Christmas. Because when you think about it: people are used to thinking that All Saints Eve—Halloween—is the time of year when the veil between this world and the supernatural world is thinnest.
But it’s Christmastime, when the nights are long and the trees are asleep—that’s when the magic comes closest.
Isn’t it?
Seems to me that it is.
Anyway, I know you’re happy, Clare.
I know that you’re happy, because you’re with the one you love—the one you were meant to be with.
Merry Christmas, sweet Clare!
Merry Christmas ...
Santa Hunk Page 7