Candy Cane Wishes

by Leah Atwood

  Sharing had been the right thing to do.

  Her face came alive with excitement, and a broad smile stretched across her mouth. “I pray that each candy cane will touch someone’s life, but I never know. It means a great deal to know yours helped you.”

  “My personal experience is the primary reason why I’m curious, but it’s a great thing you’re doing.” He hesitated to add the second part to his statement but decided it would encourage her more than raise alarm he only wanted a story. “The newspaper has received countless inquiries as to whether we know the identity of the candy cane wisher because they wish to thank the person.”

  Her eyes grew large. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. You’ve made quite the impact on Nativity.”

  She sighed with contentment and leaned against the back cushion. “That makes me happy. It means the candy canes are serving their purpose.”

  “Which is?” He could make an educated guess but wanted to hear it from her mouth.

  “To spread hope. Christmas is the most joyful time of the year, but for many, it’s also a time when depression amps up for a multitude of reasons.” An all-black cat jumped on her lap, and she petted the feline under its chin. “Loneliness, discouragement, disappointment, financial struggles, family estrangement. The list goes on.”

  His own trials testified to that. The passion behind her tone told him she’d been through her own as well. “Which of those prompted you to begin this mission?”

  Chapter Five

  Zoe froze. She’d known it was coming, but hadn’t prepared herself to tell her story. Though tempted to gloss over the beginning, it was vital to understanding her.

  Donovan gazed at her with sympathetic eyes in a shade of brown that matched her hot cocoa. “If you’re not comfortable sharing, you’re under absolutely no obligation to. I know I barged my way into your life, but I can respect boundaries.”

  “It’s okay—it’s just not an easy story to tell.” She ran her fingers along her jaw. “When I moved to Nativity, my life was in shambles. I’d lost everything dear to me and came here to escape reality.”

  “A reality that felt too much like fiction?”

  “Yes.” She tilted her head and stared at him. Somehow, without even knowing what had happened, he understood. “I lived a privileged life. My father was a dignitary who traveled often, and my mom was a trophy wife. My sister Victoria and I traveled around the world with them and had private tutors and nannies.”

  “Sounds rather drab.” He cut himself short and gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think before I spoke. My family’s very tight-knit and the epitome of middle-class America. My upbringing was very different, but that doesn’t mean one was better than the other.”

  Zoe laughed. “It’s refreshing to hear your honesty. And to be truthful, it was drab. Parts were exciting, but I longed for a normal childhood. I’ve been to more countries than I can count, but I rarely had the opportunity to get out and explore them. Tori and I were often restricted to a hotel suite, occasionally allowed to attend a gala with our parents. Even then, it was usually for photo ops.”

  “Deana and I went to Jamaica for our honeymoon. That’s the only time I’ve traveled outside the United States.” He shook his head. “That’s a lie. I’ve been to Canada once on a childhood vacation to Niagara Falls. One day I’d love to visit Ireland and see the land of my ancestors.”

  “It’s beautiful there. Some girlfriends and I spent a month in Dublin and the surrounding areas one summer.”

  “My great-great-grandfather immigrated to America from Cork in the late nineteenth century. I wanted to go for our honeymoon, but Deana insisted on a beach resort.”

  “Deana is your ex-wife?”

  He nodded. “Yes. We were college sweethearts.”

  “What happened?” The longer she kept him talking, the more time she had to gather strength.

  “I don’t know.” The pained look in his eyes and thinning of his lips belied the casualness of his shrug. “Even in hindsight, I can’t see any warning signs. I worked a lot but made family a priority. I can’t shake the feeling she cheated on me, although she claims she didn’t date Anthony until the divorce was finalized. Yet, she married him one month to the day after the papers were signed.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I can’t dwell on it. I did for a long time, and it only made me miserable.” A smile worked its way to his mouth. “And I got Brody out of the marriage, so I can’t regret it. He’s a great kid.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Four.” The more he spoke of his son, the brighter his eyes became. “I get him every other weekend, and I’m convinced he grows an inch in that timeframe.”

  “They do grow quickly.” A lump lodged in her throat and her chest pounded until she was convinced it would explode. Not now. I can’t do this now.

  “Are you okay?” Donovan leaned forward. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  She tried to swallow but couldn’t. Her breathing became labored. All she could do was shake her head.

  Donovan jumped out of his seat, sending Snowball scurrying, and left the room. She vaguely registered the sounds of cabinets and glasses rattling. A minute later, he returned and handed her a glass of water. “Take a drink. See if that helps.”

  When he lifted it to her mouth, she sipped the water, and it ran down her throat, clearing the ball of emotion. “Thank you.”

  After several minutes of controlled breathing, she brought herself under control. What is going on with me? I haven’t had an attack like that in years.

  Concern etched itself on every plane of Donovan’s face. “Better now?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

  “Need to talk about it?”

  No one in Nativity knew, except Mrs. Jacobs. She had no close friends despite her involvement at church, with the shelter, and other civic activities—only acquaintances. She felt a bond with Donovan, however. Maybe because he’d shared his own story of heartache? Different from hers, but the loss of love, nonetheless.

  “I had a little girl.” She stared at her hands, willed herself not to cry. “Aubrey looked just like her daddy and was the most beautiful baby I’d ever laid eyes on.”

  “What happened?” Donovan prodded in a tender tone.

  “All I wanted in life was to have a successful career, but Aubrey swept into our lives as a surprise.” Images of her precious baby materialized in her mind. “When my maternity leave ended, I knew I wasn’t ready to return to work yet. Aubrey became my priority, and I didn’t need to work for the money.”

  “You were fortunate to have that option.”

  “It came at the cost of a normal childhood. My parents gave Damien and me an extremely generous monetary wedding gift, but it was more a guilt offering than a present. Damien’s father is a senator, and he had a childhood like mine. It’s what drew us together.” She flinched as the wounds attempted to surface. “Regardless, I’m grateful I had those extra months with Aubrey since I couldn’t have imagined how short her life would be.”

  “None of us ever can.”

  She forged forward with her story, afraid she wouldn’t be able to finish if she stopped for any length. “One day I had to go into the office to fill out final paperwork. Damien took off work for the day, and we’d planned to take Aubrey to the park when I finished.”

  Donovan pressed a hand to her shoulder. “You don’t have to finish the story.”

  “I need to.” She hadn’t realized how badly she needed to until now, but she’d bottled it in for too long, allowing the pressure to build.

  He removed his hand from her and sat back. “If you need to stop, I understand.”

  She appreciated his compassion, and it gave her strength to continue. “While I was gone, he took Aubrey shopping with him for an anniversary gift. My sister was going to show him a bracelet I wanted, so she was in the car with them. They never made it home.”
<
br />   “I’m so sorry.”

  “I was still in the office when I got the call. A drunk driver plowed into them in the middle of the day. My sweet Aubrey and Damien died on the scene. Tori made it to the hospital but didn’t survive the surgery.”

  Donovan handed her a tissue. “I can’t fathom going through that.”

  “No one can.” She clenched her fists in anger. “One of the worst things about it—beyond the obvious of losing my child, spouse, and sister—was that I wasn’t allowed to grieve in private. Because of the public nature of my father’s career and Damien’s father, the accident was dragged through a media circus. Some lowlifes had the nerve to suggest an affair between Damien and Tori.”

  “Thus, your distrust of the media,” he whispered, not as a question, but of validation.

  “It was horrible. Tori and Damien had a brother/sister relationship, and anyone who knew them understood that, but everyone wants their five minutes of fame.” She heard the venom in her voice but couldn’t stop. “A few of our closest friends gave interviews implying they’d witnessed the affair firsthand—which they hadn’t—no proof ever surfaced because there was none. I trusted my sister and husband implicitly, but the media cared more about ratings and sensationalism than the deaths of three innocent people whose lives were cut short by a man who’d made an incredibly poor and selfish decision.”

  “I wish I could defend my industry, but I know in many areas, what you experienced is true. It’s unfortunate.” Donovan heaved a sigh. “For what it’s worth, the staff at The Daily Nativity and I aren’t like that, and I apologize on behalf of those who wronged you.”

  “For some crazy reason, I believe you. I can tell you’re different.” She picked up her hot—lukewarm—chocolate and finished it. “Nobody in Nativity except Mrs. Jacobs knows about my past. I’d rather keep it that way.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “I don’t want the pity. No one, absolutely no one, should have to live through what I experienced, and every piteous glance is a reminder of it.” She absently fumbled with the lid. “And I guess a part of me worries that if anyone finds out who I am, the gossip will be resurrected. I prefer anonymity.”

  He furrowed his brows and regarded her with curiosity. “In this day of technology, anyone could put your name in a database and pull up your info.”

  “If they knew my real name. My full legal name is Zoe Marissa Whittle. Daniels is my mother’s maiden name, and before the accident, I went by Marissa.” She twirled the lid in her hand. “Beyond that, I’ve spent a lot of money paying to have my personal information removed from the internet.”

  “Understandable, considering the ordeal you went through.” He shifted his position and Snowball jumped off his lap for the second time. “What brought you to Nativity?”

  “I couldn’t stay in Connecticut. I honestly believe I would have lost my mind. Back then, I was still new in my faith and hadn’t learned how to draw peace from God.” A bittersweet laughed escaped. “I went online, searched for picturesque towns in America and made a list. In the end, I chose Nativity because I loved the idea of an entire town based on Christmas. It offered hope which I desperately needed at the time.”

  “I’m glad you found your way here.” His smile illustrated his fondness for the town. “I’ve lived here all my life and can’t imagine living elsewhere. Nativity has a way of soaking deep into your bones and infusing your soul with the hope you mentioned.”

  “I love it here. It possesses a charm not found in many places.”

  “Your candy canes add to that.”

  “Thank you.” Under different circumstances, she might have been annoyed that he’d circled the conversation back to where it started, but she saw no indication it was anything but a sincere compliment. “The candy canes started as a healing process for me. That first holiday season after the accident, I couldn’t stop crying for more than fifteen minutes. Starting in early November when Christmas songs and movies started playing, I fell into a deep depression.”

  “No one could blame you.”

  “It was bad. Really bad. On Thanksgiving, I remember standing by that window with tears streaming down my face. I knew then something had to change.” Her face burned at the memory. “I decided right then that I couldn’t be the only person suffering during the holidays. It might have been too late for me to have a merry Christmas, but maybe I could help somebody else.”

  “And that’s how the candy cane wishes began?”

  “Yes. I remembered seeing a sign that the pharmacy would be open on Thanksgiving. I ran to my car, sped to the store, and went in with a tear-streaked face, but I didn’t care. I had a mission.”

  “How did you decide what to write?”

  “I went through the Bible, searching for verses that could inspire and encourage people for all the reasons Christmas can weigh on a person’s heart. You want to know the amazing part?”

  He leaned forward a degree, nodded intently.

  “As I wrote those wishes, the messages took root in my own heart. I won’t say it was the best Christmas ever, but it was more than I had dreamed possible.” She set the cup and lid aside. “Passing out the candy canes gave me the gift of purpose and peace. It was still difficult to face each day without those whom I loved the most in this world, but each day became more tolerable. Eventually, I stopped crying every day and then I could bring myself to look at Aubrey’s picture.” She sighed, reflecting on her journey. “Looking back at how far I’ve come, I know it was God working through the candy canes Who brought me here.”

  Donovan let out a low whoosh sound. “You’re an inspiration.”

  Shaking her head, she disagreed. “There’s nothing special about me. I’m just a girl trying to find a way to move forward in life.”

  “You’re succeeding in it and using your pain to help others. Too many who suffer drown in their own sorrows.” He paused and frowned. “I did. For too long.”

  “Everyone grieves in their own way.” She locked eyes with him. “When I started with the candy canes, my motives were selfish. Yes, I wanted to help others, but I wanted to feel better in the process.”

  “Either way, your story is inspiring. Don’t discount yourself.” He folded his hands in his lap. His mouth opened, but no words came out right away. Several seconds later, he spoke. “Have you ever considered bringing on a helper?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m sure your efforts consume a substantial amount of time. If you told someone it’s you and let them help you, you could finish the task in a shorter time.”

  She laughed—snorted. “I have nothing but time. Other than church and volunteering a few days at the shelter, I have no other obligations.”

  “What about companionship? You’re trying to reach the lonely, but it must be lonesome doing this alone year after year.”

  Crossing her arms, she peered at him through squinted eyes. “Are you trying to make me feel bad?”

  “No, not at all.” He sighed and gave her an apologetic smile. “I had an idea and mangled it.”

  “Which was?” She had a feeling of where this was leading, but couldn’t put a name on how she felt about it.

  “Let me help you.” His voice filled with earnestness. “It doesn’t have to be every night, and I won’t try to take over, but I’d love to join your efforts.”

  “I… I don’t know.” She rested an elbow on the seat cushion and propped her head on her splayed fingers.

  “You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it.” He lifted his hips and removed his wallet from his rear pants pocket. Retrieved a card and handed it to her. “Here’s my business card with my cell number on it. If you decide you wouldn’t mind a tagalong, give me a call.”

  “Thanks.” After taking the card, she stood, sensing Donovan about to make his exit.

  He rose to his feet and held out a hand for a goodbye shake. “Thank you for sharing your story with me. I know it wasn’t easy, and I promise it stays bet
ween us.”

  “I appreciate that.” She walked him to the door and gripped the doorknob. “Can I ask a question?”

  His lips curled into a wry grin. “Only seems fair after all I’ve asked you.”

  “Why do you want to help?”

  The smile he’d shown disappeared. “The holidays become a tug of war for me. From Thanksgiving to Christmas, I know it’s about gratitude and celebrating the birth of Jesus, but since Deana left, I struggle not to feel sorry for myself. It’s time I shift that focus to others.”

  That’s all she needed to hear. “I’ll head out tonight between nine and nine-thirty. Meet me here, and we’ll take one car.”

  “Great. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Bring a mug of hot coffee or whatever beverage of your choice. It will get cold.”

  “I will.” He walked out, closing the door behind him.

  Zoe turned and stared at the decorations waiting to be placed. “What did I get myself into?”

  Oh, good grief. Now I’m talking to inanimate objects? Before she could change her mind about Donovan, she threw herself into decorating the rest of her apartment. If she didn’t stop to think about it, she couldn’t call him and cancel.

  Chapter Six

  Donovan checked the weather for the third time that evening—lows in the mid-twenties. This cold snap hung on tight and didn’t show signs of leaving within the five-day forecast. How much time would they really spend outdoors tonight? He knew she walked the park but weren’t most places inside or a dash from the car and back?

  I guess I’ll find out soon. He pulled his gloves and scarf from the closet and laid them on the table by the chair with his coat hanging from it. Checked the time. Three hours left until he had to leave. Something about Zoe made him nervous, and he had no clue why, which jarred his nerves more.