10 Holiday Stories

by Dara Girard

I blinked, shocked out of my fantasy, then ripped open the letter.

  Dear Ms. Haywood:

  There are few things in life that can be described as perfect: A starry sky, a new dawn and your spiced cinnamon-nutmeg cider. May I request another? Bring it by tomorrow. I will pay accordingly.

  Sincerely,

  Gareth LeBlanc

  “What does it say?” Cora asked trying to peer over my shoulder. I handed her the note. She read it and frowned. “Well it certainly isn’t poetry. Dear Ms. Haywood? It sounds so cold and formal. So what are you going to do?”

  I wasn’t sure, but I planned to think of something.

  The following day brought sunshine, the sound of birds chirping, the distant ring of a Salvation Army Santa, and the steady drip of snow melting on the rooftop. I took my basket and headed next door. The sign on the door said ‘Closed’ and I was about to ring the bell when I looked through the store’s glass front door and saw Gareth wearing a faded brown corduroy jacket and baseball cap talking to a woman in a long white cashmere coat. It didn’t look like a happy conversation. I started to turn when the woman raced out the door in tears. Gareth followed, but didn’t call out her name or tell her to stop. He just watched her go. It was obviously a lover’s quarrel and not something I wanted to be a part of. I took two quick steps back hoping I could escape before he saw me.

  “I hate the holidays,” he mumbled then turned before I was a safe distance away. He stared at me surprised. “What do you want?”

  I took another quick step back towards the freedom and safety of my store. “Nothing. I just--”

  He held open the door. “Come on in.”

  I swallowed, wondering if I should refuse him, but decided to take the risk and go inside suddenly aware that it was the first time I’d ever been alone with him.

  “I could come back another time.”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t even be here.” He gestured to the books around him. “All of this was my brother’s idea. I was going to help him. He was the one with the pleasing personality and charm. He was going to be the one upfront dealing with the customers and I’d be in the back handling the accounting and other mundane business. He was so happy when he found this building and we signed the lease.” Gareth angrily adjusted his cap. “After he died I should have just let everything go, but I couldn’t. I wanted to fulfill this dream for him, but I’m all wrong. I’m not good with people--I prefer eReaders and computers and computer games. But the strange thing is that business is booming but Jani wants me to leave.”

  “Jani?”

  “My ex-girlfriend, she’s the one who just left. She wants me to give it up and return to my old job, but I can’t.” He stared at me and shook his head amazed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

  I smiled. “I’m easy to talk to.”

  He didn’t return my smile, but his face softened. “You would have liked Rupert.”

  “His brother’s not too bad either.”

  Gareth’s gaze fell and I winced, knowing that’s probably not something he wanted to hear. Now was not the time to flirt.

  “The holidays can be hard for anyone,” I said hoping to cover my gaffe and find a way to comfort him. “Especially when you’ve lost someone you care about, but I’m sure he’d want you to be happy.”

  Gareth let out a tired sigh. “He would and I’m letting him down. I mean what right do I have to be happy living his dream?”

  “People don’t own dreams and from what you’ve told me, it was a dream you had together. I bet you his spirit is here with you cheering you on.”

  Gareth sent me a long look I couldn’t read. I licked my lip wondering if he was going to tell me to leave or mind my own business. Instead he spun around, said “Give me a minute” then disappeared upstairs.

  I didn’t move. I thought about leaving, but I was too curious to do so. I thought about his brother. I thought about how lonely it must be for Gareth to be here in this empty shop.

  “Okay, come up,” he called from above.

  I hesitated then walked up the stairs to the main landing then into a nice living area. The heat of a crackling fire met me first, followed by the sounds of carols drifting from the radio. A tiny Christmas tree sat on the windowsill with a crooked star on top. I straightened it, crooked things annoy me.

  “I thought you hated Christmas,” I called out to him.

  “I changed my mind,” he said from another room. “Take a seat.”

  “No, I have something to show you first.”

  “More cider?”

  “No. I’m going to show you how to make your own.”

  He came out of the other room and stared at me surprised. I stared back equally stunned. He wasn’t wearing his hat. Although everything else was the same—he wore a dreadful checkered maroon tie with a striped shirt—I felt as though I’d met him half dressed, exposed. I’d uncovered his secret. He wasn’t going bald, he had cropped black hair, and the most expressive deep brown eyes I’d ever seen. Every emotion he felt flashed in them; I could see they were his most vulnerable feature. And something in their expression seemed to ignite something inside me. Something I’d ignored for a long time. I’d buried myself in history and the past so that I wouldn’t be vulnerable in the present, but at that moment Gareth had shown me that people hadn’t changed that much. Their hopes, fears and dreams remained the same.

  His eyes changed from surprised to weariness. “You’re going to teach me?”

  “Yes.”

  He flashed one of his odd little half smiles then disappeared into the room again, he reappeared with his baseball cap.

  I took it off. “You look better without it.”

  He put it back on. “It brings me luck.”

  “You don’t need luck.”

  He grabbed my hand before I could take it off. “How about courage then? It’s a crutch, but it works for me. Superman has his cape, Wolverine has his claws and I have my cap, okay?”

  “Fine,” I said, though I wondered how I could convince him otherwise. He really did have very nice eyes.

  Gareth showed me the kitchen and we both went inside. Making cinnamon-nutmeg cider only takes ten minutes. Somehow I made it last an hour; neither of us noticed the time. As the cider simmered on the stove the smell of cloves, nutmeg, apples, cinnamon, and sweet brown sugar permeated the air.

  When the cider was done we sat in his alcove that looked down into the quiet bookshop and drank in peaceful silence.

  “Books make sorry companions after awhile,” he finally said.

  Both pain and resignation seeped behind his simple words. “History can lose its appeal too,” I said.

  We slipped into silence again then he abruptly stood, picked up a book from off the shelf and handed it to me.

  I stared at him stunned. “Amelia Armand’s Complete Book of Spices? You can’t give this to me.”

  He took a sip of his cider and sent me a full grin. “I’m not. It’s still not for sale.” He tipped his hat back a bit. “But you can come by and use it anytime.”

  I set the book down--at that moment I didn’t care what was inside—instead I took his cap off and placed it on my head. It was a bold move to make, but I was a modern woman and decided to take the risk.

  And he being a modern man…well let’s just say I didn’t open Amelia Armand’s Complete Book of Spices until late New Years and I didn’t mind a bit.

  III

  New Year’s Surprise

  New Year's Surprise

  Divorce. Millions of people did it, but that didn't stop Pam Rubin from feeling alone. The man she'd thought she'd spend the rest of her life with would no longer be part of it. She knew it was the right decision. They'd been separated six months now, but they'd been emotionally apart longer than that. Living in the same house but living separate lives. She still didn't know where things had gone wrong. When had they stopped loving each other? When had simple disagreements become a war?

 
But she didn't want to think about that now. She had come to her sister's New Year's Eve party, instead of staying home with her dog and watching the ball drop on TV, to cast aside the loneliness that seemed to stick to her skin like masking tape. No, tonight was a promise of new things and a new future. Pam stood with a glass in her hand, a fake look of joy on her face, feeling out of step with all the happy couples that surrounded her. It was strange how, as her marriage crumbled, that's all she started to see: happy newlyweds, happy parents with their children, happy older couples celebrating decades together. She and Jerrod had only made five years and there had been no children, but not for lack of trying.

  Pam leaned against the balcony railing. The stars shone bright above her. She preferred looking at them instead of all the ruby earrings and emerald necklaces that graced the ladies inside the house. The dazzling gold wedding bands and diamond engagement rings seemed to sparkle under the lights, catching her eye where ever she turned. She glanced down at her now bare hand, her loneliness making her feel invisible.

  “There you are!” her sister, Darlene, said coming up to her, wearing a slinky sequence dress her own wedding ring twinkling under the Japanese lanterns that decorated the balcony. She was four years older with bouncing black curls and light brown eyes. She was usually considered the prettier of the two sisters because of her vivacious personality and engaging smile that some said was as sweet as grata cake. “I was looking all over for you! What are you doing standing out here by yourself? You're a single woman now, you should be living it up.”

  Pam shook her head, a strand of hair falling from her French twist. She narrowed her dark brown eyes. “I'm not single yet.”

  “You will be. You might as well start the New Year with a new man. Out with the old and in with the new.”

  Pam knew her sister didn't understand how raw she still felt. She didn't want a new man when she still couldn't understand how she'd lost the old one. “I'm not ready yet.”

  “It's been six months. Admit that it's over between you. You told me how happy you've been with him away. It may feel awkward, but it's time to get into the dating pool again.”

  “I don't know how to swim,” Pam said in a dry attempt at humor.

  “Just stay in the shallow end. Lucky for you your big sister is here to help. I have someone who is perfect for you.”

  Pam inwardly groaned. “I've given up on men.”

  Darlene opened her mouth then closed it then opened it again and said in a low, cautious tone. “So you're into women now?”

  Pam laughed. “I'm not into anyone now. I am just through with relationships. I'm happier by myself.”

  Darlene visibly relaxed and rested a hand on her sister's shoulder, her voice eager. “You're going to like him. He—”

  “I don't care.”

  “You will care when you meet him. His parents are from Barbados and he has a doctorate in...” She frowned. “I forgot,” she said with a careless wave of her hand. “But he's smart and I know that you like that in a man.”

  Pam sent her sister a look. He sounded just like her soon-to-be-ex. “I didn't come here to meet anybody.”

  Her sister clasped her hands together as if ready to beg. “If you'll just meet him, I will leave you alone. I promise. I really want you to meet him.”

  Pam set her wine glass down. It wasn't like her sister to be so insistent. Since she'd agreed to come to the party she might as well try to be sociable. “Okay. Let me go freshen up.”

  “Yes,” Darlene said as Pam turned to leave. “Don't forget to add more lipstick, take the shine off your nose and for goodness sake consider letting your hair down.”

  Pam stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, feeling as though she was staring at a stranger. Who was that woman with hollow eyes and pinched lips? When was the last time she'd smiled? She shouldn't have come. She didn't want to meet anyone. She wasn't ready to. She knew her sister meant well but that didn't make her feel better. She had to leave. She would grab her coat and go. Satisfied with her plan, Pam left the bathroom and headed for the room where all the coats were piled up on a bed. She was halfway down the hall ready to go upstairs when she saw her sister standing next to a man. He looked very genial and attractive, but she didn't want to meet him. She prayed her sister didn't turn and see her. She wanted to escape. Pam frantically glanced around then darted into the first door she saw: The closet. She knew it was cowardly but she didn't care.

  The closet had a familiar pleasant smell of lemon and spice, relaxing her a bit. She leaned against the wall, letting out a startled screech when it moved.

  “Shh, you'll give us away,” a deep voice said.

  “What are you doing in here?” she demanded in a loud whisper.

  “I wanted to be alone.”

  “Then why did you come to a party?”

  “I was invited,” he said. “But now I'm not sure that was a good idea.”

  “Then why don't you go home?” Pam asked annoyed by the tremor in her voice. She was used to being calm in any situation but this man had unnerved her.

  “Because I just got here.”

  “You're being ridiculous.”

  “I could say the same about you,” he said with laughter in his voice.

  He was right. His reasons for hiding were eerily similar to hers. She should follow her own advice and just leave. “I'm sorry,” she said then became quiet when she heard people passing by. “You just scared the living daylights out of me. I'm hiding from my sister.” Pam folded her arms then looked up at the figure next to her. She was unable to see his face clearly except for some light that seeped through the slits in the closet door. It highlighted a forehead, nose and mouth. She took several deep breaths and soon her heartbeat returned to normal. She should be panicked and waited for anxiety to seize her, but oddly it didn't. After the initial shock of surprise she felt strangely resigned by the situation. At least she knew where the lemon and spice scent came from. Every time he moved the scent seemed to embrace her and reminded her of happier times.

  “So why are you hiding from your sister?” he asked.

  Pam briefly shut her eyes. She hadn't expected the question. She didn't want him to care. Wasn't sure she could trust him. But somehow the darkness was a comfort. What was it about the dark that made sharing seem safe? That made two people feel intimate? She didn't think too much about it. She was relieved to have the chance to speak to a man she'd never speak to again.

  “She wants to fix me up with a man.”

  “Don't you like men?”

  “I'm not very lucky with them.”

  “I don't believe that.”

  She sniffed. He would say that and eight years ago she would have believed him. She'd met her soon-to-be-ex at a party like this. But she'd been a different woman then. A woman with a promising future and bright ideas. She'd worn a blue velvet dress and spinning gold earrings. She'd just escaped the attention of two graduate students who'd bored her with their pretentiousness when a tall man stepped into her path and said, “A professor or a teacher?”

  She looked at him startled. “What?”

  He held out his arms to the side. “Do I look like a professor or a teacher?”

  Pam surveyed his clothes and shook her head puzzled. He didn't look like either. He looked like a corporate raider. He wore all black, which only emphasized a large intimidating build. He had a carefully trimmed goatee, his black hair shone low, skin like molasses, feather-like long lashes and piercing brown eyes. “Does it matter?” she asked.

  He let out a sigh. “Yes, I've got a job interview in a week and I really need to make the right impression. I've already had ten others with no results.”

  “Well, first you're too on the point?”

  He frowned. “On the point?”

  “Yes,” she said with a light laugh. “I don't even know your name.”

  He held out his hand Jerrod Fuller.”

  “I'm Pam Rubin and I don't think you look like a teacher or profes
sor. Anyone looking at you would see an ambitious young man who would take over their job one day.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “I'm ambitious.”

  “You don't have to wear it like a banner. You can go for business casual. Also, focus on the needs of the school. How you'll be a value to them.”

  Jerrod nodded. “I can do that. Are you free tomorrow?”

  Pam paused. “For what?”

  “For dinner. I'd like to get more of your advice.”

  “But I don't have much to say,” Pam stuttered feeling her face grow warm.

  A sly grin touched the corner of his mouth. “I'm sure you do and I'm prepared to listen to every word.”

  And he did. He just let her talk and his dark eyes watched her as if she were the most fascinating and beautiful woman in the world. And she in turn helped him soften his look so that he didn't appear so intimidating. Although he looked like the kind of man who'd likely have gotten into college on a sports scholarship he'd actually gotten a scholarship in science, played tennis and had a passion for abstract art. A week later he aced his interview. A week after that he was hired and a month later they were inseparable. Their first New Year's Eve together had been simple and beautiful. A quiet time at home with a bottle of champagne and a ring. He'd told her he wanted to spend every New Year with her and asked her to marry him. And she'd said yes. It had all seemed so perfect but she hadn't known that something would destroy that peace. That it had a name.

  Fear. How come no one ever talked about how fear can enter a marriage? How it can erode trust and communication? How it can slowly eat away at what one has struggled to build? Pam still remembered her mother's sneer on the day of the rehearsal dinner. “He's just a teacher. He's got no money. There's no need to marry the bastard.”

  Pam gritted her teeth. “He's not a bastard.”

  “One day you'll think so.”

  “No, I won't. I love him.”

  “That will change.”

  Had it? Had it changed? The butterflies had gone and familiarity had taken away the rush of romantic surprise and the high of falling in love. But the sun was also familiar, however she never grew tired of its dancing rays. It had been the same with Jerrod except, unlike the sun, she'd started to worry that he wouldn't always be there. And one day she'd been right. She hadn't wanted to be her mother, but she'd taken her mother's bitterness and fear into the marriage. Their six months apart had taught her a lot about herself.