“Go then. Do what everyone else always does.”
“I asked you several times to stop writing it. You still haven’t listened. When you love someone, you compromise. I guess I got the answer I needed.”
“But…”
“You were right, Mary. It was way too soon. Have a good Christmas,” James said, then walked out the door, slamming it.
Mary put her head in her hands, sat on the couch and cried the rest of the evening.
****
That night, while Mary cried, little things happened in the town of Noel. Odd things…things that people who didn’t know about the problems Mary and James faced, wouldn’t notice.
The Tomlins sat in their living room in a loving embrace. Gary brought his wife flowers for the first time in five years, a feat that surpassed the most romantic gestures, according to Mrs. Tomlin.
The Rochesters sat in front of the fireplace in the retirement home’s great room and shared a hot cocoa, wrapped up in a blanket, reading a book by Frost.
The Turners ate dinner together, even though it was difficult for the doctor and his wife to get time alone.
It seemed the night was filled with small miracles. A time to love one another in secret, before an even bigger secret came out. The committee members and their unaware partners spent their nights in loving embraces, having great conversations and spending much needed quality time with one another.
****
The next morning, when Mary awoke, she felt the unmistakable feeling of love in her belly. She felt sick to her stomach in love with James but she’d lost him. All because of the stupid article she planned to write. And when she stood up on the podium in front of the whole town, all she could see were the loving faces of the Tomlins, the Rochesters, the Turners and the McClearys. She looked around the room for James, but he wasn’t there. She cleared her throat and began.
“I started my article this year as an exposé. I thought that Christmas and love were two things that were so far apart that I couldn’t see what this town has going for it. Christmas is love. Love is Christmas. Noel is a wonderful place to go on holiday, a place to bring your children and your children’s children. It is a place to see love. Like the McClearys, the Turners, the Tomlins and of course the Rochesters.
"I’m amazed that I couldn’t see the love of this town and of this festival as clearly as I do now. I am so proud to live in Noel, and I am very honored to have interviewed such wonderful people. Let the Magic begin!” Mary cheered. Her voice held the cheer, but she didn’t feel much happiness. She’d pretty much destroyed what happiness she finally found for herself. She walked off the podium to applause. Several happy faces joined her in the crowd, following her out the packed committee hall outside into the cool weather.
“That was a wonderful speech, Mary,” Ava Rochester said, patting her shoulder. “My grandson must have spoken to you.”
“I never meant to hurt anyone, Mrs. Rochester.”
Ava looked at Mary and Mary knew she could see the sheen of tears on her face. “Oh my, are you all right?”
“I’m…I’m fine. I’m just tired. I had a rough go of it last night.”
“Oh no. Was James rough on you?” Ava asked, concerned. “You mustn’t blame, James, dear. I was just…I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Everything is okay.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Give my best to your family and James.”
“Won’t we see you this weekend?”
“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Rochester. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
Chapter Eight
That next morning, when the Star was delivered to his home, James read the article with mixed emotions. He knew now how deeply Mary felt about him and he felt about two feet high when she wouldn’t answer his phone calls that morning. Voicemail. He hated voicemail.
The article for the Magic of Christmas Festival was the best one yet. It not only included the origin of the festival , but it also included little stories on how Mary got to know each of the couples, the generosity of the town they lived in and the nice things the community and the festival did for not only the town of Noel, but several towns that surrounded them. Pride shone from Mary’s words about the town and about its people. .
****
Mary packed the rest of her meager belongings into her suitcase and loaded them into the trunk of her car. She needed to get away from town, and from the festival. She needed to get away from James. That morning she’d gotten on the Internet and booked a flight for Florida, hoping the ocean would do her some good. It always helped her in the past to think. She could almost smell the sea when she closed her eyes.
Not thinking, Mary went down Main Street, but stopped abruptly when a horse and carriage blocked her way. Mary sighed. She’d forgotten all about the parade. She would be stuck for a while. She looked at the car’s dashboard and noticed the time. Noon. The wedding would happen on the half hour. Thirty minutes until the Yuletide Bride would be chosen. Mary had never missed one ceremony. James was right, she was very stubborn and very cynical. She wanted to cry. She turned the radio on and a love song crooned over the airwaves. Mary could feel the hot stream of tears that trailed down her face. Just then, she heard her car sputter. She looked down and then closed her eyes. “Great!” she yelled and hit her steering wheel. “Dammit!”
Mary got out of the car and kicked her front tire. “Ugh!” she yelled, then looked over and saw an older lady staring right at her. Mary tried not to look any dumber than she already was, but she was too frustrated to act.
The old lady looked directly at her and pointed ahead. In a clear but monotone voice she said, “It’s a sign.”
Mary’s eyes widened and she looked at the horses going by, pulling their carriages. It reminded Mary of Cinderella and the romance of it all. And then it dawned on her. Marriage, carriage, romance, love. “It is a sign!” Mary said excitedly, and then smiled at the older woman. The woman gave her a weird look and then Mary ran down the street giddily.
Mary ran, but caught the tail end of the woman’s words. “Where are you going, lady?” A man from the car behind her yelled as Mary headed down the street in the opposite direction, to follow the parade route. “It’s a sign!”
“No,” the older lady spoke loudly, “the gas station…it’s straight ahead.” But, Mary didn’t turn around, she just kept going as if she didn’t hear a word.
As Mary ran toward where the wedding ceremony was to take place, the red scarf around her neck, unraveled and landed on the ground—right in front of the Christmas tree where the Yuletide Bride would say her wedding vows. “Another sign!” Mary cried excitedly. She couldn’t help it, she smiled and then her breath caught when she saw James.
****
“James!”
“Mary!”
James ran over to Mary and Mary looked deeply into his eyes. “James, you were right. I believe in it all. The signs. The old lady, your grandmother, everyone—they were right. I love you.”
James smiled and took her into his arms, feeling her heart beat against his chest. “Oh, Mary, I…”
“And here is the moment you have all been waiting for,” Mayor Jameson said into the microphone on the stage. Mary smiled and looked at James, waiting for the mayor to call the names of the bride and groom. It was so romantic—all of it.
“James Rochester,” the Mayor said clearly. Mary’s eyes widened as did James’s.
“What?” Mary asked, and then looked around. She could see smiles on the faces all around her—everyone except for James and his grandparents.
“No! No, you can’t go up there, James!” Mary panicked.
“Mary, I’m so sorry, I have to.”
“No, please!”
“I put my name in there, Mary. I put it in there long before I met you. I’ve been ready.”
Mary started to cry. “But, James, I didn’t put my entry in. I did
n’t enter.”
James looked crushed. “I told you a long time ago that I was going to put my name in. I just thought… I thought you would have.”
“Please, don’t go,” Mary pleaded.
James closed his eyes, clearly pained by the whole ceremony. “Have faith, Mary.”
Mary fell to the ground as James walked onto the stage. The mayor and his wife turned the shuffler and opened it to get out the bride’s name. Just then, whether by divine intervention or a game of fate, a small piece of paper got dislodged from its hiding place and landed in the mayor’s open palm. It wasn’t the normal way of doing things, but fate, was after all the meaning of the Magic of Christmas. The mayor looked to his wife and then to the crowd. The crowd cheered.
The mayor looked at the paper, and appeared to be in shock, then at his wife and then to James. He cleared his throat once and then spoke firmly into the microphone. “Mary Simms.”
No one moved for several seconds. The mayor laughed and grinned widely as he repeated himself. “Mary Simms…where are you, you lucky lady, you? Come on up here!”
Mary must have been hearing things.
James grabbed the microphone from the mayor and spoke, “Mary, Mary, where are you?”
She’s over here,” someone yelled from behind her and pointed. Several people near her confirmed it, and soon the whole crowd cheered.
She felt a tap on her shoulder and opened her eyes to see James leaning over her. He urged her to stand. She was still confused and looked around nervously at all the attention she was getting. James steadied her in his grasp and said softly, “It is us, Mary. It’s meant to be. More than anything in the world we were made for each other.”
“But I didn’t enter…”
“Didn’t I tell you to have faith?”
Mary’s lip trembled and she pulled James’s head down so his lips were hot on hers. “I love you, James.”
“I love you, Mary.”
Epilogue
Later that night after the ceremony, the Yuletide Bride and Groom went home to James’s house. They spent their first night as husband and wife, never leaving the comfort of one another’s arms. It was a miracle. They learned later that James was picked by the committee members to marry his secretary, Jennifer. They had no idea how the paper with Mary’s name came to be in their hands nor did they question it. It was the first time in the festival’s history that fate really played a part, and as you may have guessed, they lived happily ever after.
Merry Christmas!
About the Authors
Danielle Lee Zwissler was born in Dover, Ohio, a small town in Northeast Ohio. . She is a big fan of William Shatner, Harry Potter, and all things Harlequin. Her first novel, “Her Last Chance ,” debuted in 2010 with Firefly & Wisp Books. And then shortly after the sequel, “The Art of Seduction” came out. And then “Trio of Sin” with Books To Go Now! came out in September of 2011.
Christmas Gift that Keeps Wagging
Jennifer Conner
Chapter One
“Everybody in my class hates me. I’m never gonna get a part in the Christmas play.”
Julian Barrows looked down at his six-year-old son, Gabe. The tears streamed down the little boy’s cheeks broke his heart. “Would you like an ice cream sundae?” he asked, hoping to distract Gabe with his favorite food.
Gabe sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. He flopped back on the couch. “No Daddy, I don’t want ice cream. Even ice cream won’t make it better. No one likes me.”
“That’s not true. Your friend Evan came over a few nights ago for a sleepover.” Julian pulled some tissues out of the box on the coffee table. “Here, blow your nose.”
“Evan’s my friend, but no one else is. They all make fun of me.”
“They say things to you?”
Gabe frowned at his question. “Yes… no.” He scrunched his eyes closed. “I hate school.”
The muscles in Julian’s jaw tightened. Gabe was a smart kid, and too young to “hate school.” That usually came in the teen years. He surmised what the underlying problem could be. Julian wanted Gabe in a regular classroom setting, but it was hard when he didn’t feel like he fit in. Kids could be mean, especially when someone was different —like Gabe. He desperately tried to help his son think of something else.
“Let’s put more ornaments on the tree. Your favorite is still in the box. The train that goes around inside the ball?” Julian rummaged around until he found the plastic orb and then handed it to Gabe.
Gabe unwrapped the tissue around the ornament and dropped the paper to the floor. “Mom gave me this. I wish she was here.”
As Julian lifted a plastic snowflake, his hand stopped in midair. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. “I know you do, but it’s just you and me. You know that.”
“Maybe she’ll call? It’s Christmas. Maybe she’ll call this year? Do you think she remembers the number?”
“Sure, buddy, she remembers our number. It hasn’t changed.” He ruffled his son’s dark brown hair.”
Julian knew that hope and reality were two different things. Marion wouldn’t call. She hadn’t for the last three years, and he doubted she would this Christmas.
Gabe finally calmed enough to put ornaments on the tree. The two of them drew tinsel over the branches. The silver sparkled in hues of red, blue and green from the blinking lights.
By the time Gabe picked out a streaming kids movie to watch, in less than ten minutes he sprawled across the couch, asleep. Julian slipped out into the kitchen. He slid a wine bottle from the rack, uncorked it, and filled a glass. Skimming the plate closer, he took a few more bites of the now cold box of lasagna he’d microwaved for dinner. When was the last time he’d eaten a hot meal? He liked to cook but never seemed to have the time. He put the fork in the dishwasher, covered the plate with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge for tomorrow’s lunch. One less thing he’d have to think about in the morning.
When he came back into the living room, he eased himself onto the couch so Gabe didn’t wake. Julian put the boy’s head on his leg and rubbed Gabe’s shoulder. He knew he should move Gabe to bed, but he couldn’t. The time with his son was always precious even if only to watch him sleep. With gentle fingers, he brushed the hair off his little boy’s forehead. Gabe’s nose wrinkled and he smiled in his sleep. Until Julian saw a photo at his mom’s house recently, he didn’t realize how much Gabe looked like him at the same age.
Gabe was a mini-me version of him right down to the faint freckles that dotted their cheeks. He felt proud his son looked like him, and he couldn’t love the little boy any more than he already did. Julian would give him anything in the world except for the two things Gabe wanted most: his mom back and to be like the other kids.
Damn.
Julian picked up his glass and took another deep drink letting the smooth merlot slide down his throat. He set the glass on the wood table and pressed his thumbs to the sides of his temples. He always felt tired. Julian felt as if he hadn’t slept through the night in over six years. Every time he heard a noise, he thought Gabe might be having another seizure. He’d wake up panicked and check on the boy.
Most nights Gabe was fine, but at least two or three times a month Julian would have to help him through or worse yet, call 911. Two weeks ago Gabe had a grand mal seizure. He was in the hospital overnight. It was one of the worst nights of their lives.
And he handled it alone. How could Marion leave us? He stared at the blinking holiday lights until his eyes burned, mulling over the age-old question he’d asked a million times.
Marion was twenty-one when she became pregnant with Gabe. He knew she hadn’t wanted to keep the baby. She’d only kept him because Julian wanted it. When Gabe was born with epilepsy, he’d harbored the feeling that sooner or later, Marion wouldn’t be able to deal with the added complications. He’d been right. Julian was over the anger. Now he saw that she just hadn’t been mentally prepared to be Gabe’s mom.
On n
ights like this, he felt that he wasn’t either.
Marion broke his heart and left him with a special needs son to raise on his own. He thought he’d loved her, but now he knew that his love wasn’t shared. It was difficult not to carry bitter feelings, but as his mother kept telling him, he got the best part of the relationship… Gabe. He’d always have that.
Julian yawned, as he turned out the lights on the Christmas tree.
Sleep was overrated.
He picked up the little boy and carried him down the hall. He laid him next to where he’d sleep in his large king-sized bed.
Julian’s landscaping business was slow around the holidays. Jobs consisted mainly of keeping up the grounds at the country clubs and the entryways of homes for people hosting large Christmas parties. He decided he could spare a few hours and took the morning off to drop Gabe at school. He needed to have a word with the teacher.
As soon as Gabe walked through the door of his class, Gabe hung his coat and gloves in the cubby and then ran off to play with Legos in the corner of the room. Another little boy joined Gabe which Julian was glad to see.
Julian caught the teacher’s eye. When she came toward him, he asked, “Do you have a second? I want to talk to you about Gabe.”
“Do you have concerns?” Mrs. Gelles placed her binder on the desk and turned to face him.
“My son thinks all the kids in the class hate him.”
“I’m surprised, because it’s not true.” She shook her head. “Gabe has lots of friends.”
Julian pushed his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “So you haven’t seen kids picking on him ?”
“Oh no. I don’t allow bullying in my classroom. As you know, Gabe had a small seizure yesterday, and I think the kids still aren’t sure what to think. It’s a little scary for all of us. It’s more something different or curiosity out of their normal daily routine. I know you were contacted and curious as to what happened. I didn’t hear or see any of the children saying anything mean to him before or after, but you have my word that I’ll keep a close eye on him, and I’ll also contact the playground workers to do the same.”
Christmas is in the Air Page 9