by Sarah Gay
Annie walked to the window. “Can I close these shutters for you before I leave?”
“Have you spoken with Paxton?”
Annie shook her head. “I haven’t had the courage. And you prove to be a great distraction.”
“Not for very much longer. I need to see the two of you together.”
Annie smiled. “Now, how are we going to do that?”
“I have a few ideas. But first, weren’t we discussing the end of the war? Let me tell you one last war story. This one should interest you, it involves your great-grandfather, Harry. Then, when you come tomorrow, we can focus on happier days.”
“You’ve got my interest.”
“1945. Germany had been brought to her knees. Hitler had committed suicide in April. It was now October. The war had officially ended on September 2nd, but we were still receiving intense opposition in certain sectors of the larger cities, and occasionally in the countryside. Can you imagine?”
“No, but I’m trying. What did it smell like?”
“I’ve never been asked that question before.” He grabbed his prickly chin with his long fingers and said, “It smelt like an early frost. We were within a few kilometers of a small farming village. On this particular early morning, the ground was covered with a thin layer of ice, as if Jack Frost had dusted the ground overnight. With every slippery step, the scent of recently fallen autumn leaves was released into the heavy air.” He took in a deep breath as if tasting the German air. “I hear the enemy.”
“Tim. That’s perfect. You just brought me there with you. I can feel the frozen leaves grinding beneath my boots. The anxiety mounting in my chest as I hear voices in the distance. German voices.”
“Yes! Yes, Annie. You’re here with me,” he said, looking around the room as if they were approaching the enemy. “I direct my men to halt, and prepare their weapons.” Raising his arms in the air, Tim began shivering.
“Are you cold?”
“Slight chill.”
“Here, let me wrap you in a blanket,” Annie said, pulling the crocheted coverlet from off the end of his bed, and placing it over his legs.
His eyelids slowly closed.
“Should we stop here, and pick up at this point tomorrow? You seem tired.”
Tim nodded his head.
“One last thing.” Annie clicked her pen. “Do you remember the name of the closest farming village?”
“Kramersdorf. How is it that I remember that place, and yet I couldn’t tell you what I had for lunch if my life depended on it.”
“Funny, how our minds work.”
Tim’s breath became labored.
“I have overstayed my hour. Why don’t you get some rest? Shall I help you into your bed?”
“No, thank you. I’ll take my nap in this chair,” he said, closing his eyes.
Tim was asleep before Annie had finished packing up her materials. She sat next to him, examining the seasoned war hero, the fisherman, the beloved father, husband, great-grandfather. He was the real deal. She reached down and lightly kissed his forehead. “Where have all the heroes gone?” she questioned.
The face of another hero came to her mind. Annie had never asked Paxton about his service in the military. Had she blown it with him, or would he still be around when she finally made it back to Healdsburg? She would need to ask Tim for some advice. She couldn’t think about that now. She needed to get back to her hotel room, and start locating and interviewing people who lived in Kramersdorf at the end of the war. That “A” that Annie had received in her Reporting Essentials course was about to be put to the test.
Chapter 21
Annie awoke to a moist, scratchy tongue licking the back of her neck.
“Seriously, Mr. Famous,” she said, wiggling away from him.
He jumped on top of her chest, continuing to lick her chin.
“Your breath smells. Fine. I’ll take you out. Why can’t you sleep in, just this once? I was up till 3:30 writing.”
Annie looked on the hotel’s nightstand at her laptop, potpourri of notepads, and sticky notes scribbled with red ink. Tim’s story was starting to take shape.
She grabbed her cell on the way out the door and noticed three voicemails. She had forgotten to unsilence her phone. The first voicemail was from Carla, checking on the status of her manuscript. The second call was from her mother, petitioning her to come home for Christmas. Annie looked at the date on her phone. December 24th.
“It’s Christmas Eve? Mr. Famous, have I been that fixated? One more interview with Tim, then we head home.”
The third call had an (801) area code. Probably telemarketers. She would check that later.
Tim smiled brightly as Annie entered his room. She placed Mr. Famous in his preferred spot, on Tim’s lap. As Annie set up her equipment, she noticed Tim wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Are you hot? Should I remove your blanket?”
“No. I’m actually a little chilly, and tired today.”
“I’ll ask the nurse to come check on you when I leave. Is that okay?”
“Sure, but I feel fine. Just more tired than normal.”
“Maybe you need to eat. Have you had breakfast?”
“Not really hungry this morning. I’ll ask for something in a bit.”
“Where should we start this morning?”
“Come here, Annie.” Tim motioned to the seat on the couch, next to his recliner.
She put her notepad down and sat next to him, taking his offered hand in hers.
“I want to tell you something about Paxton.”
“Okay.”
“Something that he most likely didn’t tell you. He told you how he lost his father, my grandson?”
“Yes. In a plane crash.”
Tim nodded his head. “His fiancé was on board as well.”
A tear stung Annie’s cheek. “His fiancé died in that plane crash?”
“Paxton lost everything that day. And you think you’re frightened of losing him?”
“Did I say that?”
“You didn’t need to. I’ve lost almost everyone I’ve ever cared for. To live as long as I have, is not always a blessing. I’m ready to be with them again,” he said with a cough.
“Can I get you something? Water?”
He shook his head. “Just love my boy. Please try to be patient with him when he forgets momentarily who you are. Unfortunately, we, all us men, have been there. Be patient for his love to flourish. Then, as an old man, he will love you more than Romeo could have ever pretended to love.”
“You loved her more than Romeo.” Annie stated.
“More than a thousand Romeos,” he sighed, looking at the photograph on the wall.
As Annie drove up the long gravel driveway, the Christmas lights twinkled white and blue, mimicking the stars above. That was one benefit of living in the country, the abundance of stars.
Annie walked in the front door to the smell of freshly baked rolls.
“There’s my pumpkin. Just in time for our Christmas Eve feast,” her father said. “You know, your mother has been missing her car.”
“I’m so sorry, everyone,” Annie said loudly. “I became completely immersed in Tim’s story, and lost track of the days.”
“Sounds interesting, Darling. You’ll need to share during dinner,” her mother interjected from the kitchen. “Honey, I need your help again,” she called to her husband.
“Sure thing,” he answered. He turned to Annie and whispered, “She’s been bossing me around all day. Now I have to go help her whip the potatoes.”
“If you don’t hurry, I’ll whip your potatoes!” she yelled.
“See, she’s going mad. I’m so happy you’re home. Now she’ll have someone else to direct.”
“Here, take this to her. It should cheer her up.” Annie handed her father the raspberry filled Kringle that she had bought from a local market on her way home.
He kissed her cheek. “You’re a miracle.”
Annie’
s mother squealed with delight. Annie peered into the kitchen, just long enough to see her mother plant a big kiss on her husband. Now that’s how it should be.
As Annie’s eyes fluttered open, she stretched her body and gave a giddy cry. Christmas morning always invoked a sense of jubilation in Annie. The smell of burnt toast wafted through the floral room. She sat up in her bed. Mr. Famous was not in one of his positions of spooning her neck or tummy. She looked across the room to find him seated at the base of the bedroom door, whimpering softly.
“What’s going on? Do you smell bacon, little guy?”
Bacon would be a definite. Christmas morning was a time for her mom to be pampered. It had taken her father a few years to master a wicked eggs benedict, Mom’s favorite. Her father was head chef with her brothers as the sous chefs. Annie refused to eat eggs benedict anywhere but at home, with her dad’s super citrusy hollandaise sauce. She would enjoy the special treat only once a year. Twice, if she were home for Mother’s Day. Her dad would cook other breakfast foods at any moment, if petitioned. But the eggs benedict? That was a rare culinary delight.
Annie pushed the play button on her CD player as she made her way to the bathroom which was attached to her floral room. Cindi Lauper’s voice rang through the rooms, which Annie was happy to match, singing at the top of her voice, as the shower awakened her muscles. The near scalding water sprang out of the massaging shower head, pummeling her body like a heated chirapsia massage.
Toweling off, Annie noticed her legs unusually chafed. “Must be the change in climate and dry air from the furnace,” Annie surmised aloud.
She wrapped the faded pink towel around her body. With her wet hair still lightly dripping down her neck, she made her way to her parent’s bathroom through the living room to locate a tub of moisturizing body cream.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement on the couch. Just as she was turning her head toward the motion, a large form shot up rapidly.
“Ah!” Annie yelled, panic taking hold of her. She stumbled back, tripping over the presents. The adrenaline started pumping through her veins. Should she run, or fight? She jumped behind the Christmas tree, causing her towel to slip off her body, and fall to the ground.
“Annie, it’s okay. It’s me.”
“Paxton?” she questioned, still panting. “Close your eyes,” she frantically commanded.
“They’re closed,” he affirmed.
“Keep them closed,” she said, reaching for her towel.
“Only if you sing about how girls just wanna have…”
Before he could finish his thought, she had covered his words with her lips, her bare toes rubbed against the slippery wrapping of the present she had placed at his feet. The hefty metal toolbox she bought for her dad worked as the perfect stool to reach his face.
The fresh, cool Alaskan air carries the scent of pine from a nearby timber operation. A chill tickles Annie’s toes. Her skin, still wet from a dip in the cruise ship’s sauna bath, shivers from the North Pacific breeze. She looks to the heavens as they open, streaming down rays of electric green around the magnetic pole, arcing and rippling across the sky, illuminating the heavens in an ethereal glow.
“Ahem,” Annie’s father grunted.
“You came back,” Annie said to Paxton as she pulled away.
“Good surprise?” Paxton questioned.
“Positively electrifying,” she smiled.
Her father added, “I would feel a lot better about this if you were dressed, Annie.”
Her face flushed. Annie suddenly remembered she was still scantily draped in a thin towel. “Excuse me,” she said, gliding back to her room.
Chapter 22
Paxton handed Annie a log to place on the fire. They had been sitting on the Persian rug in front of the fire, exchanging glances, while the family opened their gifts. Paxton’s constant gaze caused Annie to smile. Every time he looked at her, a heat would wash through her. Annie’s mother was right, again. It was too late to turn back, Annie was beyond in love with this guy. She looked over at her mom, sipping the hot cocoa her husband had made for her as they nestled into each other on the couch.
Her brothers were exchanging gifts amongst themselves, allowing Annie and Paxton time to satisfy their need to monopolize each other.
“When did you get here?”
“About an hour ago, just before you got out of the shower?
“And what brought you back?”
“Two things.” He stood to retrieve a box from behind the tree.
“The wrapping paper is wet. I wonder how that happened?”
“Before you open that. The first reason is, I got a call from my great-grandfather’s nurse.”
“Are the nurses trying to set us up as well?” Annie joked.
“Grandpa Tim’s ill. I got on the first available flight.”
“What? I just saw him yesterday. He didn’t seem that sick to me. I thought he might be coming down with something, so I alerted his nurses. But he was okay. I promise.”
“There was nothing that you could’ve done. Old man’s best friend.”
“What?” Annie questioned with concern.
“Pneumonia,” he replied solemnly.
“Dang it!” Annie yelled. “I’m surprised you came to see me, before going to your grandfather.”
“I came to bring you with me.”
Annie’s heart leapt. He came to get her. Did he feel the same way that she did? She never wanted to spend another day without him. “What, exactly, did the nurse tell you?”
“That you’ve been to see Grandpa Tim at least twice a day since I left him. That he is absolutely taken by you, and that,” Paxton cleared his throat, “that his dying wish is that I marry you. And she seemed to think that you were in love with me, which brought me a renewed hope.”
“The walls have eyes and ears,” Annie said, setting the present down, and standing to leave. “I’ll be ready in five.”
Paxton grabbed Annie’s hand. “That’s why I love you.”
She took in a sharp breath. Did she hear him correctly? “You love me?”
Paxton nodded his head as he placed the gift in her hands. “This is the other reason I came to see you.”
The anticipation was unbearable. Annie quickly unwrapped the box to find a thick, leather collar, and crystal studded leash. Her face dropped in disappointment, but she laughed it off.
She wrinkled her eyebrows and said, “You gave me Charlie’s present. Do you think he’s opening a box of chocolates right now?”
“That’s for you. And me,” he said, holding the collar in his hand. “It’s a symbol of the eternal looped circlet. It is also a symbol of my dedication to you,” he said, strapping the collar around his neck, and kneeling on the floor.
“What are you doing?” she laughed.
“I thought you could use some help with your book, How to Train a Husband. Do you think you could train me to be your perfect mate, to be a devoted husband and partner? I’m ready to be tied down. To you. Will you marry me, Annie?”
Annie squealed as her hands flew up, covering her mouth and chin. She looked over at her family. Her mom was crying. Her dad didn’t look at all surprised, although his eyes did grow misty as he cradled his wife. Annie’s brothers nodded their heads, while giving her a synchronized “thumbs up.”
Annie began by accentuating her words slowly. “I’m not so sure,” she smiled. “What’s your favorite destination vacation?”
“Cloud forest, Costa Rica.”
“Now, let me see how well you respond to commands.”
“Sit? Beg? Or perhaps, my favorite, lie down?” he said with a raised brow, and a wicked smile.
That smile almost caused Annie to hyperventilate and faint. “Kiss me,” she commanded.
Paxton ran his hand up Annie’s back, as he pulled her in close. The moment their lips met, she began gliding through the clouds.
The dewy air settles onto her bare arms as the whir of a hummingbird
’s silvery wings brushes her cheek, before sojourning to the lichen cloaked timber. He comes to her by way of the pendulous vine. Intrepid and dauntless, his arms carry her to heights explored only by the howlers of the night.
The frozen countryside flew by Annie’s window. She blew her nose into the soft tissue. Her heart ached. It differed from the pain of a lover’s betrayal. It was a sadness in her soul. She was losing a dear friend.
Pneumonia, at one hundred and three? Could anyone survive a hangnail at that age, let alone the disease that took more elderly than any other?
She turned to Paxton, “Tim is an amazing guy. I think the world of him.”
“And that’s why I love you,” he said, weaving through traffic.
“And, why is that, exactly? Let me count the ways.”
“For one, you have been a saint to the man I have the greatest estimation for.”
“Two?”
“Two, you rip up the hockey arena.”
“Three?”
“Three, you are a hot fishing buddy.”
“Four?”
“Four, you don’t care what people think or say about you, like those beastly journalists.”
“Five?”
“Five, you can milk a cow.”
“I can milk a cow?”
“Could come in handy during the apocalypse that is sure to occur within the next decade. Have you not seen any series on Netflix lately?”
“Okay, I can live with four ways, for the time being,” Annie said with a chuckle.
Annie felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She sat off her seat to wrestle it out. Carla.
“You aren’t going to get that?” Paxton said, looking down at the blinking screen.
“No. It’s my agent. On Christmas day,” she said, shaking her head in annoyance. “I’ll call her when I’m back in Healdsburg. Agents think they own you. I’m thinking about going rogue.”