A Victorian Christmas

by Lorraine Beaumont

  “Presents?” He hadn’t thought about that.

  “It’s all right, Devlin, no one expects…”

  “Nonsense,” he cut her off. “I already have gifts for everyone.”

  “You do?” she squealed, her face lighting up.

  “Sure,” he lied. Damn. Now what was he supposed to do?

  “Well I hope it is nothing extravagant. “ I made mine for you.”

  “Well…” He cleared his throat. “I did too.”

  “You did?” Her face brightened even more. “Oh I can’t wait to see what you made me!”

  “Neither can I…I mean me too,” he stammered. “What I mean to say is I can’t wait to see what you think of it as well.” He swallowed hard.

  “I got it,” Sebastian said, rushing into the library.

  Devlin turned and looked at the large ax he was brandishing like a medieval knight. “Is it snowing?” he asked, shivering from the gust of cold air that followed Sebastian into the room.

  “Not bad,” Sebastian said, brushing the light dusting of snow from his hair and clothing. “Only a flurry or two,” he said, keeping his face averted.

  It looked like a lot more than a flurry or two to Devlin. It looked like Sebastian had just been out in a bloody blizzard.

  Chapter Two: The Present – New York City

  “On the second day of Christmas my true love gave

  to me… two turtle doves”

  The snow was falling in earnest as Sadie made her way back home. The tears that slipped from her eyes had frozen to her frosty cheeks. A taxi fishtailed past. A pile of dirty slush flew up, drenching her completely.

  “Asshole!” she yelled, shaking her fist at the retreating vehicle. Shivering, she climbed the stairs to her brownstone apartment. A bike was blocking the entrance again…and she squeezed past it, fumbling in her bag for her keys. Her hand closed over the handkerchief the gentlemen had given her, she pushed past it, her face blooming with color once more.

  “That poor man,” she said, shaking her head and pushed into the front hall, past all the junk cluttered around the edges. There was a sled, from little Davie Tucker, he was twelve and lived on the top floor with his mom. Jeb Stewarts’ beat up snowboard hung on the wall, the one he used for training. Her apartment was on the third floor. It was a nice building but her sub-lease was up on Christmas day, which was perfect, or would have been if Byron kept his dick in his pants. But no, not Byron…

  “Damn you Byron!” she swore and immediately her eyes filled with tears once again as she climbed up to the second floor.

  A door creaked open. “Sadie, what are you doing back home?” said Mrs. Flint in a scratchy voice, peeking out of her door like a spy. Her bright red dyed hair in rollers piled on her head. The spongy pink foam, matched her fuzzy robe.

  “Oh I forgot something,” she lied. Mrs. Flint was like seventy and nosey as hell. She was the resident gossip. The last thing she needed was her rotten life relayed to anyone that would listen in the building.

  “Did you hear Jeb broke up with his pretty girlfriend, Elise?” She darted her bright blue rheumy eyes down the hall, towards Jeb’s door.

  “Um, no, I hadn’t heard that.”

  “Yeah, she was…” She leaned out her door; the ears of her bunny slippers tilted forward. “She cheated on him with one of his snowboarding buddies.” She made an angry face. “That little slut,” she muttered. “Oh, poor Jeb,” she sighed and shook her head sadly. “Now he will be all alone on Christmas Eve.”

  Sadie wanted to say he wasn’t the only one, but didn’t. “That’s too bad. Jeb’s a nice guy.”

  “Well, maybe you should stop by and visit him…you know cheer him up.” Mrs. Flint wiggled her penciled on black eyebrows. “I have some extra mistletoe in here somewhere.” She looked over her shoulder.

  “Mrs. Flint, I have a boyfriend,” she dumped out another lie.

  “Oh, Bertrand, he’s a prig.” She waved her age spotted hand dismissively in the air, her brilliant diamond flashing under the lights. Mrs. Flint was apparently busy in her younger years. She was a burlesque dancer and had married several times, but none stuck, as she put it. “His name’s Bryon…”

  “Oh, right, Burton.” She shook her head and one of her pink rollers tumbled to the floor. A black cat darted into the hall. “Jezebel, you give that back to me, you little bitch,” she crackled, chasing the tail of her cat that now was batting her roller with its paws across the snow-dampened floor.

  Sadie reached down and grabbed it away from the cat. The cat hissed and swiped at her with its claws. Mrs. Flint was right. Jezebel was a bitch. “I better get going. I don’t want to keep Byron waiting.”

  “Sadie dear…” She reached out and touched her arm, her rheumy blue eyes seeing far more than she wanted. “You care to come in for a spell, have some tea? I can do a reading for you,” she said hopefully, arching one of penciled brows.

  “No, that’s okay.” Even though suddenly, Sadie wanted nothing more than to go inside, have some tea and unload her troubles on someone. Mrs. Flint moonlighted as a physic to make extra “scratch,” she would say, for the slots. She liked to gamble…a lot. “Maybe later, I mean …yeah…” She hoisted her bag on her shoulder. “I better…”

  “Yes, yes, you already told me Barney is waiting for you. He is a prig. Did I tell you that?”

  Sadie laughed suddenly. Why yes, yes, he is a prig, and an asshole, she acknowledged silently. “Yes, you did.”

  Mrs. Flint cackled. “I think he is an asshole too, dear.”

  Sadie gave her a startled look.

  “I see things, dear, and hear them in my head.” She tapped her head for clarification and widened her eyes knowingly.

  “Oh, that is ….ah…a good talent to have.” Her skin prickled.

  “I know.” She smiled. The action lit up her face. She suddenly looked like a fairy or a sprite. “Now Sadie dear…” Again she touched her arm, squeezing it. “You know if the stars align just right, otherworldly things will happen.”

  “Um, okay.” Sadie tried to pull her arm away but Mrs. Flint held fast, squeezing tighter. Her rheumy eyes looked at some distant place over her shoulder.

  “I see a man in your future, from a simpler time, a forgotten time.” She sighed almost dreamily. “Yes, he is quite dashing too, a bit broken but I suspect you can fix him right up…that is if you have the wherewithal to believe in…”

  “Believe in… what?” her voice came out as the barest whisper.

  “Love,” she said, her gaze drifting back to Sadie.

  “I believe in love but I don’t think love believes in me.” She gulped, a feeling of uneasiness sweeping through her.

  Mrs. Flint cackled merrily. “Of course it does. You just have to have a little patience and… luck.”

  “Luck and I don’t really go together.”

  “Oh yes it does, dear.” She released her arm finally. “Just you wait and see.” She rubbed her wrinkled hands together, making her ring sparkle different colors. “I see many things in your future.”

  “What do you see?” She gulped, her heart picking up.

  “No. No.” Mrs. Flint shook her head and wagged her finger. “If I tell you it will ruin your surprise.”

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t want to do that.” Sadie let out a pent up breath, deflating her cheeks.

  “Now dear, trust your heart and everything else will work out.”

  Sadie didn’t trust her heart. Her heart got her into this mess to begin with. And now she was alone on Christmas Eve, with a broken heart, with no clue how to piece it back together. “I’ll try.”

  Mrs. Flint grabbed her arm once again. “You must do better than try…you must believe!” she warned, her eyes flashing strangely.

  A frigid gust of air flew up the stairs. Sadie shook. It felt as though someone had just danced across her grave and spit on it for good measure. Shivering, she pulled away. “I will, I promise,” she said just to placate Mrs. Flint who was suddenly freak
ing her out.

  “See that you do.” Mrs. Flint gave her a long stare.

  “I will…promise.”

  “Oh damn! The Wheel is starting.” She gave her the once over. “Don’t worry. I will make sure everything is attended to here. Have a safe trip.”

  “I’m not…” Sadie was going to say she wasn’t going anywhere but then remembered, she was supposed to go with Byron to go to his ski chalet. She swallowed back her tears, her throat clogging. “All right,” she said.

  “Dress warm, it is rather chilly there now. Actually I think a blizzard is on its way.” She stuck her finger in her mouth and then pulled it out lifting it in the air. “Yes, definitely a blizzard,” she said, nodding her head.

  “Um, okay.”

  Mrs. Flint ducked her head in her apartment. “Oooh, hello Pat,” she said in a deep throaty voice.

  Sadie’s eyes widened. Who was Pat?

  Mrs. Flint popped her head back out. “That Pat, he is the moon,” she said in a wistful voice. “If I was younger I would give that Vanna White a run for her money. Yes, yes, I would.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

  It dawned belatedly on Sadie who she was talking about. “Well I better go….you don’t want to keep Pat, waiting.” She smiled at Mrs. Flint.

  “Oh but wait, I have your Christmas present. I think it will be just the thing you need.” She ran halfway through her door and turned around. “Don’t go anywhere.” Lifting her hand, she tapped Sadie on the tip of her nose and winked. “I’ll be right back.” In a flash Mrs. Flint disappeared into her apartment.

  Sadie stood on the landing, looking up at her apartment door. It was only a few short stairs away.

  A door banged down the hall. “Take your shit, bitch!” a male voice yelled. A snowboard and two boots flew out of the door, banging loudly on the opposite wall.

  “Jeb, we weren’t exclusive,” said a female’s voice from inside.

  “Get the hell out.”

  “But Jeb…I love you…” she cried.

  Sadie stood there, partly wanting to leave, the other part completely riveted in place wanting to know what happened next.

  “Elise, you can’t have your cake and eat it too. We’re done. End of story. Now get out.”

  “Fine, screw you, Jeb.” A pretty young blond ran into the hall and grabbed up the snowboard and boots that just hit the wall.

  Jeb stuck his dark head out the door. “That’s the problem Elise…you already screwed everyone!”

  “I did not.”

  “Right, liar, who didn’t you screw?” Jeb railed, seemingly oblivious to his audience.

  “I didn’t screw you…I love…”

  “Don’t say it…” his voice broke.

  Sadie moved closer to the wall, feeling horrible for being here to witness their exchange. At least with Byron, she had her say in private…well almost.

  “I do love you…” She stepped forward.

  “Elise…” he sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.

  Sadie wanted to say “Don’t do it, Jeb…” She felt he was caving…and then he did.

  “C’mere.” He lifted out his arms.

  “Oh, Jeb!” The girl dropped her things and ran into his outstretched arms.

  The door slammed shut.

  “Poor Jeb.” If Elise cheated on him once, she would probably do it again. She shook her head.

  “Here you go, dear.” Mrs. Flint had a huge box in her arms and pushed it outward. The faded cardboard had fancy writing on it.

  Sadie took the box. “What’s this?”

  “Why, it’s your Christmas present.”

  “But I didn’t…I don’t have anything for you.” She felt terrible for saying Mrs. Flint was nosey and a gossip but she was…so…

  “That poor Jeb…” She made a tsk-tsking sound. “I agree with you, that boy is in for a world of hurt.” She rubbed her fuzzy sleeves. “Well,” she sighed sadly, “there is nothing to be done about that now.”

  Sadie’s eyes widened like an owls, blinking stupidly. “How?” she asked.

  “My walls are thin.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “And you know I’m nosey and a gossip…so…”

  Sadie cheeks bloomed with color. “Mrs. Flint… I didn’t mean…”

  “Oh I know, dear.” She waved her hand. “It’s the truth. I need to do something for fun, you know.” She smiled, her eyes suddenly not looking as old. No, they now twinkled like sapphires, full of mischief and secrets. “Anyway I have to go.” She waffled on the threshold to her apartment. “Have a safe trip and don’t forget to wear what I gave you. It will come in handy for where you are going.”

  “I’m not really going anywhere,” she finally confessed. “Byron and me, we broke up.” She shifted the heavy box in her arms.

  “Oh, I know that too.” She waved her hand. “Have a safe trip and remember a heart wants what a heart wants…all you need to do is listen to it and everything will work out just fine. Oh and believe… ”

  A whisper of air blew against her neck. Shifting her box, she turned back around. “Mrs. Flint?”

  Mrs. Flint was gone and the door to her apartment was now shut.

  Taking a step forward, she grabbed the wall for balance and looked down. A stack of mail was at her feet. Sadie bent down to pick up a piece of mail. “Return to sender,” was in bright red and the postmark was really old. It was a postcard from a place called Ravenhurst. Funny, she didn’t see that before. Carefully she set it back on the pile of mail.

  “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Flint,” she said to the empty hallway. Another cool burst of frigid air blew against her.

  “Merry Christmas to you too, dear,” she heard, whispered like the wind and then that too was gone.

  The Past - Ravenhurst Property

  Devlin stood out in the middle of a field. A dusting of snow covered the ground and a lone tree loomed in front of him.

  “Well old chap, it looks like you are the lucky one.” Flurries of snow danced around his face. Lifting his hand he pulled the brim of his hat further down and yanked up his collar to stifle some of the frigid air. Retrieving the borrowed ax from his horse, he walked forward. The tree was at least seven feet tall, but Hawthorne’s ceilings could more than accommodate the size. Bending down, he rubbed his hands together and lifted the ax in the air. He hit the base of the tree, once. A ripple shuddered up his arms.

  “Bloody Hell!” he groaned. He shook off the vibrations and tried again.

  Whack, whack, whack.

  The sound of the ax head slamming into the wood echoed across the field.

  “This is a bloody ridiculous tradition.” The tree was still upright. Taking a breath, he tried again.

  Whack, whack, whack.

  It was cold as hell, but he was working up a good sweat, attempting to chop down this blasted tree. “This has to be the dullest ax in the world.” He stood up, and pushed his hat back down on his head. There was now a wedge cut out of the wood but the tree was still upright.

  “Next time I am sending Bertram out here,” he huffed with exertion. “Fine, maybe not Bertram,” he amended. The man was ancient.

  Again, he swung the ax.

  Whack, whack, whack.

  The unmistakable creaking sound of the tree giving way, alerted him the tree was finally falling. He stepped out of the way. The tree crashed down to the snow.

  “It’s about bloody time.” He shook off his coat and pulled his hat back down.

  His horse neighed, shaking its massive head. Devlin cut him a sidelong glare. “Just you wait… you’re the one that gets to carry this beast of a tree back to the Hawthorne.”

  The horse neighed again, and bobbed its head, making the reins jingle lightly. Another frigid gust of air hit him full on. He uneasily looked around, suddenly feeling like he was being watched.

  “Who’s there?” he called, his voice getting carried away in the wind. “Probably the wind,” he tried to tell himself but that did not dispel the uneasy feeling.

/>   The snow was falling in earnest now, making it hard to see. Placing the ax securely on his saddle, he grabbed the rope. Moving quickly, he tied the rope around the base of the tree and tied the other end to his horse. With one last look around, he swung up into the saddle and made his way slowly back to Hawthorne with his tree in tow.

  Over two hours later, with a few mishaps along the way, Devlin, his horse, and the tree made it back to Hawthorne Manor in one piece. Well almost. The tree was now missing a few branches and he was sure his horse would throw him off the next time he tried to climb on his back. They had words over the tree. The horse did not like dragging it back in the snow. Not one bit.

  “Sir, is there anything else you need?”

  Devlin turned from the fire. “No, Bertram that will be all. I appreciate the help.”

  “Not a problem, Sir.” Bertram said, straightening a branch on the tree. “It is a nice touch.”

  “What?” Devlin asked absently, rubbing his hands. They were still numb from the cold. Luckily Bertram wasn’t as feeble as he thought. The man had helped him set up the tree. If not, the bloody thing would still have been lodge at the bottom of the stairs, in a bank of snow.

  “The tree, Sir,” he said and brushed a wispy graying lock of hair back from his forehead. “It is a nice touch.”

  Devlin stood from the fire and looked at the tree. “Yes, you are right, Bertram. It does give off a festive air does it not?”

  “Yes and it smells wonderful too.”

  “If you say so,” he said. He wasn’t too sure about the smell. It was a bit overwhelming and reminded him of when he was but a child. “It reminds me of my childhood…or lack thereof,” Devlin muttered despondently.

  “Well, they do say that smell is the strongest of your senses, so it is no wonder that it would evoke a memory or two.”

  Devlin frowned. “Yes, I suppose.”

  “Well, Sir,” he said, brushing off his hands. “I will take my leave and head for home…unless there is something else you would like me to help you with?”