Winter Woods

by ID Johnson

  “You sure?” Valerie asked, not even bothering to write that down on the pad she had poised at the ready.

  “Yeah, Mom’s making stew. I just needed… a change of scenery.”

  “Must be hard to work with all those folks in your house. But it’s Saturday.”

  “I know,” Olivia said, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t normally write on the weekends, but I’m falling so far behind.”

  Valerie scrunched her lips to one side of her pretty face. “I thought I saw your sister last night after the parade and again this morning at the library. You weren’t with her.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I’m being an awful hostess.”

  Valerie took a look around, as if she was checking to see if other customers needed anything, and then slid into the booth across from Olivia. “Is everything okay, hon?”

  Closing the laptop so that she could see her friend’s face, Olivia shrugged. “I don’t know, Val. It seems like everyone has an opinion about what should happen next—except for me. I mean, I am pretty sure I know how this book will end, it’s just the getting there that’s taking forever.”

  “Can you skip ahead and write the ending and then come back?” Valerie offered.

  “I wish.” Olivia reached over and picked up the straw Valerie had set beside her water and began to take the paper off of it. She remembered shooting such wrappers across booths at this very friend innumerable times in high school, but she didn’t do that now. “Some people write that way. I’m not one of them.”

  Valerie nodded in understanding. “I don’t know how you’re going to get anything done over the holidays. It’s five days until Christmas.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Olivia said, crumpling the paper and plopping the straw into the glass.

  “Well, aren’t your parents going to Cabo for the New Year? Can you wait until then?”

  Her sister had bought her parents’ a vacation package as a Christmas-slash-retirement present for her dad, and Olivia wasn’t surprised that Valerie had heard. Her mother was so excited, she’d been telling everyone. “Yes, but Brett and his girlfriend will be at my house until they go back to school—which isn’t until after Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. And I’m pretty sure Fiona and the kids are staying until after New Year’s, too.”

  Valerie’s bottom lip protruded, as if she were a sad puppy. “Sorry.”

  “I’ve thought about going away for a week or two,” Olivia admitted, “to the mountains—where I can get some peace and quiet. I even almost called to make a reservation last week. But… I’m afraid my family will think I’m so rude if I do that.”

  The waitress seemed deep in thought for a moment. “Would that allow you to spend more time with your family now? Would they accept that trade-off?”

  “What do you mean?” Olivia asked, taking a sip of her water.

  “What if you told your family you were going to stay in a cabin after Christmas so that you could meet your deadline, but you wouldn’t write another word until you leave? They might accept that compromise if they know that they’ll have your undivided attention for the next few days, while all the holiday happenings are going on. You definitely don’t want to miss the Christmas Festival if you’ve already missed the parade.”

  Olivia carefully considered her friend’s advice. Those were the two main events everyone in Charles Town always turned out for, and even though Olivia wasn’t quite the Christmas fanatic her mother was, she couldn’t imagine missing the festival. It had been hard enough to sit at home last night knowing her sister and nieces were out watching the floats and cheering for Santa. She had tried to convince herself that the parade was for little kids and she wasn’t missing anything, but when she’d struggled to write even a couple dozen words the entire time they were gone, it had hurt her heart.

  “Hey, let me go get those cheese fries going, and I’ll come back and check on you,” Valerie said, tapping the table as she got up.

  “Thanks, Val,” Olivia said, still deep in thought. She knew Valerie was right; time with her family during the holidays was not something she could ever get back. Ruby and Paisley wouldn’t be little forever. Who knows what might happen when her brother got married. Maybe he’d move away and never come home at all.

  Her mind made up, Olivia flipped her laptop open again and turned her Wi-Fi back on, waiting for it to connect to the hotspot she had on her phone. She took another sip of her water, and once she was back online, she opened the tab she’d bookmarked last week. “Minter’s Cabins,” she mumbled under her breath. She flipped to the screen that showed availability, praying that the cabin her father used to take the whole family to after Christmas each year was still available.

  She typed in December 26 as the day she wanted to arrive and crossed her fingers. It took a moment for the site to load, and she impatiently tapped her fingers on the Formica. She had so many fond memories of Winter Woods, as she used to call it when she was a little girl, thinking Joe Minter, the man who owned the place, was named Joe Winter. It just made sense in her little girl mind, since they only went there when it was cold and snowy. There were several cabins, but the one they’d stayed at was near the stream that flowed through the property and it had a big porch that looked out over the water. She’d loved to sit there with her dad and look up at the stars, listening to the water rush by.

  Eventually, she was able to see that, unfortunately, the cabin she wanted was already occupied. “Darn it,” Olivia mumbled. She thought about giving up, taking it as a sign she just needed to stay home and force her way through the next fifteen to twenty chapters of her novel. But then, what Valerie had said about giving time to her family now so she could focus on her writing later made so much sense. Olivia checked to see if there were any other cabins available, and was happily surprised to see the one just behind her preferred cabin wasn’t booked. It was much smaller than the one she’d had in mind, but then, maybe that was a good thing. There wouldn’t be room for anyone to come and stay with her or take her mind off writing. With a small sigh of relief and the first genuine smile she’d worn in days, Olivia pulled out her credit card and started filling out the information. Surely, she’d find her solace, and her muse, in Winter Woods.

  Chapter Two

  Sitting around the dinner table an hour or so later, Olivia waited for the perfect time to tell her family about her decision. Her mother’s beef stew had turned out better than she had expected, and the clanking of silverware against bowls was a sign she wasn’t the only one who thought so. She’d brought home a couple of pies from Bishop’s as dessert, and also as a way to make her announcement a little more acceptable—she hoped.

  She realized her time was limited when her father sat down his spoon and rubbed his belly with both hands as he arched his back. “Boy, Irene, that sure was good.”

  “You think so?” her mother gushed. “I guess watching all those cooking shows is starting to pay off.”

  “I don’t care how many of those shows I watch, I still can’t cook worth a darn,” Fiona chimed in.

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Cliff muttered and then gave her a playful grin, which didn’t prevent his wife from backhanding him on the shoulder.

  “I think it might be time for pie,” Irene said as the rest of the adults finished up, though the little girls were still munching on the grilled cheese sandwiches Granny had made for them when the beef stew looked “yucky.”

  “Before you do that,” Olivia said, pulling her half-standing mother back to the table with a clearing of her throat, “I have something I want to tell you all.”

  “Oh, my,” Fiona said, her eyes twinkling. “Did you meet someone?”

  Olivia’s nose immediately scrunched up. “Goodness, no.” A man was the last thing on her mind at this time in her life.

  “Is it about the book?” Irene asked, leaning over and grabbing her daughter’s arm. “Please tell me you have decided on Team Elliott.”

  Fighting the urge to pull her arm away,
or roll her eyes, Olivia said, “Sorry, Mom. I’m not giving away any endings tonight either. But it does have to do with the book.” The sea of faces staring back at her made her stomach turn over. This was the quietest her house had been since her brother showed up a week ago, the only sound the chomping of crusty cheese from her nieces at the far end of the table.

  Olivia cleared her throat again. “I realize that I haven’t been very… attentive lately. I know some of you were disappointed that I couldn’t make it to the parade last night.”

  “All of us were,” Fiona mumbled.

  “And I missed out on gingerbread houses today.” The girls’ tilted their faces up for a moment, and the sadness in their eyes was evident. “So… I’ve decided to put my novel aside for the next five days and completely focus on my family.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Roger said, patting his middle child on the shoulder. “It’ll be nice to have our little Liv back.”

  She managed a smile at her father before she continued. “However, in order to make up for the time I’ve lost away from my book, I’ve decided to rent a cabin for a couple of weeks, some place away from all the distractions, where I can finally concentrate.”

  “Rent a cabin?” Brett asked, speaking up for the first time. “Where?”

  “In the Blue Ridge Mountains, where we used to go when we were little,” Olivia explained.

  Her brother was so young then, his expression showed that he didn’t quite remember, but he nodded slowly.

  “You’re going all the way up there?” Fiona asked. “When are you leaving?”

  “The day after Christmas,” Olivia replied. “The same day Mom and Dad head to the airport.”

  “But what about us?” Ruby asked.

  “Yeah, we’re supposed to be here for several days after that,” Cliff reminded her, scratching his head just above his receding hairline.

  “You can stay,” Olivia assured them. “All of you are more than welcome to stay as long as you’d like. But I have a deadline looming, and if I don’t get a rough draft to my agent by January 20, everything slows down. We won’t get it to the editor on time, production will be delayed, the publisher will be mad. And I already have my advance.” She had spent a lot of that money on the presents under the tree for these people, and while she had plenty in her bank account thanks to her first book, she wanted to keep everyone at the publishing house happy.

  Her mother let out a sigh. “I think sometimes we forget that there’s a lot more to being an author than just sitting in front of a computer and making up a story,” she reminded everyone.

  “That’s true,” Olivia shrugged. “I spent most of last year doing book signings and touring the country. I still have to do a lot of promotion and marketing myself, although it’s easier now than it used to be. But I try to answer all of the emails I get from fans, post to my blog, keep up with social media—all of that. So… yes, there is more to it.” She didn’t mention that she hadn’t actually written more than twenty thousand words this year and that the book she was supposed to be nearly finished with was only a few chapters long.

  “Well, we were really looking forward to spending New Year’s with you,” Fiona said, forcing a small smile, “but I think we can all understand what it’s like to have work deadlines.”

  “I can’t,” Ruby said, laughing, a bite of grilled cheese sticking out through the hole in the top of her mouth where a tooth was missing.

  “The rest of us can,” her father said, mussing her hair as everyone else giggled along with her. “If I miss a deadline at work, I get called into the boss’s office, and that’s never any fun.”

  “All right, Liv,” Roger said, patting her once more. “You go find some peace and quiet, and we’ll enjoy every minute of the holidays we have left with you before you go.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Olivia responded, letting a breath go she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  “You used to love it out there,” he continued as Irene stood to go and fetch the pies from the kitchen. “We would sit on that porch and stare up at the stars, bundled in blankets, with a fire going in the pit. The river would just rush by. Sometimes there’d be little bits of ice in it. It was so still and serene.”

  Olivia could picture it now. Part of her was sad her father wouldn’t be there with her this time, but then, taking anyone with her would defeat the purpose. “I remember,” she said quietly.

  “It was always so cold,” Fiona chimed in, standing as if she might go help their mother, and shivering like she could feel it now.

  “I think I remember the bunk beds,” Brett nodded from his seat next to a silent Kim. “Why did we stop going out there?”

  Roger seemed to consider it for a moment. “I’m not sure.”

  “I remember,” Irene said, returning with one pie, Fiona carrying the other behind her. “We couldn’t get that cabin you really liked one year, and then, it sort of slipped away from us.”

  “That’s right,” Roger said, his chin resting in his hand. “I really did like that one cabin. Is that where you’re staying?” he asked, turning from his wife to Olivia.

  “No,” she said quietly. “I wanted to stay there, but it was already booked up. I’m staying in the one behind it.”

  “The little one?” Irene asked, cutting into the blueberry pie as Fiona returned to the kitchen to get saucers.

  “I think so,” Olivia said. “It’s just as well. Hopefully, I won’t see another soul the whole time I’m there. I don’t need much space when it’s just me.”

  “I’m sure ol’ Joe Minter will come and check on you,” Roger said as Irene handed him a slice of pie on one of the saucers from Fiona’s stack. He began to chuckle. “You used to call him Mr. Winter—remember?”

  “I do,” Olivia said, blushing. “We were always there in the winter, I just assumed it was Winter Woods.”

  Irene began to laugh as well. “I’d forgotten about that. I think even then you were making up stories, Liv. I think you were of the opinion ol’ Joe had some control over the weather.”

  Olivia didn’t quite remember that. “I don’t know. Maybe I thought he was Mr. Winter himself.”

  “Well, you be careful driving up in those mountains in that little car of yours,” Cliff warned as his wife slid a slice of pie in front of him. “If those roads are anything like the ones where I’m from, they can be pretty dangerous in the ice.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Olivia assured him, staring at her pie. He was from just up north a bit from where they were now, and most mountains were dangerous in the snow, she assumed. Luckily, the forecast wasn’t calling for any heavy snowfall. Hopefully, it would stay that way. “I’m glad all of you understand,” she added, taking a bite and remembering why Bishop’s pie was so popular. The crust seemed to melt in her mouth.

  “You know how important it is to us that you achieve your goals,” Irene said with a smile, her teeth slightly blue from the berries. “Besides, maybe once you get up there, you’ll realize that Margot can’t go on without Elliott.”

  Olivia opened her mouth to remind her mother she wasn’t discussing the plot at the dinner table, but before she could do so, Fiona spoke up, and before she knew it, the argument was on again. Shaking her head, she focused on her pie and tried to make herself invisible, glad to volunteer to help when her father said he’d get started on the dishes. She was pretty sure he was trying to escape before he was asked who he was rooting for.

  ***

  Christmas morning was always special, but having the little girls in the house made it even more so. Olivia sat on her sofa in soft new pajamas her mother had given her the night before—a Kensington Family tradition—sipping a cup of coffee as her nieces played with their new toys on the floor. Her dad was still marveling at the new fishing pole Fiona had picked out for him, and Brett was looking through the scrapbook Kim had made while Irene went off to start the cinnamon rolls. Soon, her entire house would smell like Pillsbury warm deliciousness.


  Dressed in matching pink plaid PJs with little snowmen on the front, Fiona dropped down next to her little sister, careful not to splash her drink. She put her arm around her. “Did you get everything you wanted, Sis?”

  “I did,” Olivia nodded. She hadn’t asked for much. She already had just about everything she could ever want. Except for eighty thousand perfectly formulated words….

  “Good.” Her sister lovingly stroked her hair, and Olivia patted her on the leg. At twenty-seven, Fiona was only two years older than her, and they had been close most of their lives, until Fiona went away to school in Maryland and met Cliff. Then, it had been a bit more difficult to keep up with each other. “Do you remember when that was us?” she asked, gesturing at her daughters with her head.

  “I do,” Olivia replied. Many a Christmas morning, they’d sat beneath the tree in their old house, comparing presents and playing with their dolls. Their brother would usually be beside them, though he’d have trucks or something like that. Her parents had always been able to provide a nice Christmas for their family, and Olivia realized her dad probably worked a lot of overtime to make sure his kids got practically everything they asked for.

  “It’s so nice, watching them play together. Christmas has always been special, but it’s something different once you have kids.”

  Olivia glanced over and saw tears in her sister’s eyes. “They are very sweet little girls. I’ve really enjoyed having them here. They had so much fun at the festival yesterday.”

  “They did. The pony rides and the caramel applies,” Fiona nodded. “And listening to the choir sing last night was… magical.”

  “I’m so glad you came down,” Olivia said, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too,” Fiona replied, running her fingers through Olivia’s hair. “I pray that one day you will meet a man as good and hardworking as Cliff, that you’ll have a family, and then we can all spend Christmas together, just like this.”