A Witchmas Carol

by Amanda M. Lee

  “It’s Christmas,” Landon noted. “Everyone should dance on Christmas.” He rested his chin on my shoulder as he watched. “We’ll find a way to get some dancing in later, huh? I think we’ll both need it.”

  “You’ll have plenty of time to dance.” Uncle Calvin was wistful as he watched, Thistle’s giggles loud enough to wisp through the window. “Never cut short the dancing, son. It’s one of the things you’ll wish you could go back and do over. It’s never good to have regrets. One of my biggest is that I wish I would’ve danced more.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Landon pressed me tight against him. “Is this what we’re supposed to see? Thistle dancing?”

  “This is just one mile in our journey,” Uncle Calvin corrected. “We have others to traverse.”

  “Great. Where to next?”

  “To see the man who I only knew as a boy.”

  I had no idea what he meant, but I was intrigued. Plus, well, it felt invasive to watch Marcus and Thistle in a private moment. Sure, they weren’t doing anything but having fun, but it was still their moment, and we shouldn’t have been a part of it. “Lead the way.”

  All I want for Christmas is for someone else to do the dishes. Everything else is just gravy … and hopefully it will be gravy someone else makes, because I’m not in the mood to cook this year.

  – Winnie explaining why she only has one item on her Christmas list

  Ten

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  Uncle Calvin peered through the foggy windshield as he navigated Hemlock Cove’s snow-covered streets.

  “I do. Just give me a minute to remember. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in these neighborhoods.”

  “I still don’t understand what we’re doing,” I admitted, holding my hands in front of the heat vents. “We’ve spent an hour spying on Clove and Thistle in private moments. That seems more invasive than educational.”

  “I would think you’d have learned by now that your Aunt Tillie isn’t one for wasting time on things that aren’t important.” He uttered the sentence as if it were fact rather than an intriguing and fanciful fiction.

  “Really? Last summer she spent two weeks hiding in the bushes by the Crawford farm because she was convinced she was going to catch aliens making crop circles.”

  Uncle Calvin barked out a laugh. “That sounds just like her.”

  “I don’t see how that was important,” I added.

  “It was clearly important to her.”

  “Yes, but … .”

  “Oh, Bay, you have a pragmatic streak that skips most Winchesters. I’ve known quite a few witches over the years, and your mind works differently.”

  “I happen to like the way her mind works,” Landon argued. “I agree with her. I can’t see any situation where what we just saw – actually, what we just intruded on – will turn out to be important.”

  “Give it time.”

  “I’ll add that if Clove and Thistle are being shown private moments from my evening with Bay that’s going to make me incredibly uncomfortable,” Landon said. “Sometimes things are supposed to be shared by only two people.”

  Uncle Calvin shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “I’m sure Tillie would never show them your … um … private time.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about,” Landon countered. “Some things are private, intimate. I’m not necessarily talking about sex.”

  “Oh, did you have to use the S-word? You’re talking about my great-niece.”

  “I’m talking about something vague,” Landon corrected. “If I find out Aunt Tillie showed anyone else scenes from our night, I’m going to be extremely unhappy.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that. Clove and Thistle are on different journeys this evening.”

  “Whatever.” Landon sighed as he collected my hand and held it between his. “This is Terry’s neighborhood, isn’t it?”

  I followed his gaze out the window and nodded. “His house is right around the corner.” Something occurred to me. “That’s where we’re going, isn’t it? You said you were going to see a man you knew as a boy. You knew Chief Terry as a boy. You died before he became … who he is.”

  “That is where we’re going.” Uncle Calvin parked in front of Chief Terry’s house, his lips curving at the festive lights running along the eave. “He looks like he gets into the Christmas spirit.”

  “He likes Christmas,” I agreed, following Landon out of the truck. “I think he’s always been a fan of Christmas. Although … .” I broke off, remembering the earlier memory. “Maybe he didn’t always care about Christmas. He does now, though.”

  “Why do you think that is?” Uncle Calvin fell into step with us as we crossed to the window.

  “You sound like a shrink.”

  “Perhaps I simply have insight into the witch psyche. Have you ever considered that?”

  “Nope.” I stopped in front of the window, exhaling heavily as I prepared to look inside. Before that happened, I pinned Uncle Calvin with a serious look. “He doesn’t like … um … have a lady friend over or something, does he?”

  Uncle Calvin chuckled, tickled. “I promise you’re not about to have your adoration of Terry blown out of the water.”

  “I don’t adore him,” I clarified. “Er, well, I do. It’s not that. But he deserves privacy. Aunt Tillie doesn’t seem to believe that anyone but herself has earned privacy. That’s not the case. Chief Terry deserves his privacy.”

  “He’s alone, Bay.”

  Something else occurred to me. “That doesn’t mean he’s not doing something that should be done in private.”

  “Oh, sick.” Landon slapped his hand to his forehead. “Did you have to go there?”

  “Not that!” I was scandalized as I shoved my elbow in Landon’s stomach. “Don’t be gross.”

  “I’m not the one being gross.” Landon ruefully rubbed his stomach. “You went to a scary perverted place.”

  “I was talking about if he was wandering around in his underwear or something,” I snapped. “People do that when they’re alone at home. I do.”

  “You do that when I’m home with you, and I enjoy it.” Landon grinned, ignoring the scathing look Uncle Calvin lobbed in his direction. “I’m sorry for thinking you were being perverted, sweetie. I get what you’re saying; No one wants to see Terry naked.”

  I was horrified. “Who said anything about being naked?”

  “Oh, you two are just unbelievable,” Uncle Calvin muttered. “Do you always argue like this?”

  “This is simply the way we communicate,” Landon replied. “Sometimes we’re soft and sweet. Other times we’re clipped and snarky. When we’re fighting, we’re something else entirely.”

  “And let’s not do that,” I suggested. “It’s Christmas.”

  “I have no intention of doing that.” Landon ran his hand down the back of my head, as if to reassure me. “I’m nowhere near melting down – at least not yet.”

  That was good news. I blew out a sigh as I leaned toward the window. “If he’s in his underwear I’m totally going to scream and run away.”

  “Duly noted.” Uncle Calvin seemed eager to peer through the window. “Ah. There he is.”

  I was relieved to find Chief Terry not only dressed, but seemingly involved in some task. He stood next to his dining room table, hands on his hips, and appeared to be talking to himself as he looked at a mountain of supplies.

  “What is all that?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Landon replied. “They look like … disposable meal trays.”

  “They do?” I tilted my head to the side, considering. “They do kind of look like meal trays, don’t they? I wonder if they’re having a special dinner of some sort at the senior center. Although I can’t imagine why Chief Terry would be involved.”

  “Can’t you?” The way Uncle Calvin stared at my surrogate father made me question our presence. “I think if you search your heart you’ll real
ize what he’s doing.”

  I glanced at Landon for help, but he was too busy staring at Terry. “Well … .” I honestly had no idea. “He’s clearly preparing meals for some event. But I don’t see any food.”

  “You will.”

  Uncle Calvin’s cryptic responses were starting to get to me. “When? Is some magical Christmas elf going to show up to do the cooking?”

  “The cooking is being done elsewhere. Terry is coordinating the effort.”

  “The effort for what?”

  “To help those less fortunate.”

  I tried to sort through the words. “Do you want to be more specific? I’m honestly lost.”

  “Terry is a giving soul,” Uncle Calvin supplied. “He wants to help those less fortunate. This year he organized a special meal at the senior center. It’s open to everyone who needs food and companionship during the holiday, not just seniors.”

  “Chief Terry did that?” I wanted to be surprised. “Why didn’t he mention it? I would’ve put it in the newspaper.”

  “Perhaps he didn’t want attention.”

  That sounded like him. I licked my lips, uncertain. “He should’ve told me. I would’ve helped him.”

  “Are you so certain he didn’t tell you?”

  “Of course he didn’t tell me. I listen when he talks.”

  “Unlike when your mother and aunts talk, right?”

  Now he was just being combative. “Why are we here? There has to be a reason.”

  “We’re here to see what the people you love are doing for Christmas. That means we have another stop. Can you guess where that is? I’ll give you three guesses.”

  Uncle Calvin was smug. In all the stories I heard about him over the years he was never smug. This had to be some weird manifestation of Aunt Tillie’s twisted brain. “I don’t need three guesses,” I supplied. “We’re going back to the inn. I know we won’t get out of our journey through Christmas present without seeing the inn.”

  “You’re very smart.” Uncle Calvin smiled. “Come on now. Back to the truck.”

  I cast another look to Chief Terry, conflicted.

  “What’s wrong?” Landon asked, waiting for me to join him for the walk back. “You look upset.”

  “That’s because I have a feeling we’re about to learn exactly how selfish Aunt Tillie believes us to be.”

  Landon met my gaze. “Does that mean you don’t think we’re selfish?”

  “No. I wish I could say that. We’re definitely selfish. It’s just … if someone had mentioned this charity event I would like to believe we would have donated our time.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  I wasn’t so sure. “We were caught up in ourselves.”

  “We were,” Landon agreed. “I don’t think he mentioned it to me, though. I would remember that.”

  I hoped he was right. “Come on. As much fun as it is hanging around with Uncle Calvin, we still have an entire leg of the story to survive after visiting the inn.”

  UNCLE CALVIN WAS BEYOND reckless when driving to the inn, spinning us into several snow drifts and stopping outside Margaret Little’s house long enough to pack the end of her driveway with snow. It was already filled with loose snow thanks to the blizzard, so the mountain of packed white stuff we left behind was something to behold.

  Landon’s knuckles were white from gripping the door handle when we parked, and my stomach remained twitchy when I planted my feet on the iced driveway.

  “What’s with the slippers?” I asked as we trudged up the walkway. “Even though it’s freezing and I can feel the wind and snow, my feet aren’t cold.”

  “Tillie wants you to suffer, but I think a case of frostbite would be going too far,” Uncle Calvin replied, lifting his chin as we approached the inn. “This is so different from when I lived here. None of this was here. Do you remember the house before it became this?”

  “Yeah. We’ve visited a few times thanks to Aunt Tillie’s fevered brain.”

  Uncle Calvin snorted. “Other than that, do you remember it?”

  “It’s not easy to forget. We grew up here, for the most part. I have more trouble remembering the house I lived in before Dad left.”

  “But your father is back, right?” Uncle Calvin was legitimately curious. “They’re all back.”

  “They are and we’re working to build a better relationship.”

  “Meaning?”

  I shrugged, helpless. “Meaning it’s not easy because there are a lot of hurt feelings on all sides. Dad feels like Mom shut him out. Mom feels like Dad abandoned me.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Caught in the middle because … well … I’ve always considered Chief Terry to be my father figure. After Dad left, Chief Terry spent a lot of time with us. He took us to the park. He punished us when we were caught doing things we weren’t supposed to be doing. He stepped in. I’m closer to him than my own father.”

  “And you feel guilty about that in some respects,” Uncle Calvin surmised. “You shouldn’t. Terry gave of himself because you guys needed it. Loving him doesn’t mean you don’t love your father.”

  “I know that.”

  “I knew when your father and mother married it wouldn’t work.”

  The admission surprised me. “How?”

  “They were simply too different, which isn’t to say that opposites can’t make it work,” Uncle Calvin replied. “Marcus and Thistle are clearly opposites, but they make it work. It’s just … about the time your mother and aunts were getting married gender roles were changing.

  “I always knew there was no way to corral Tillie, so I made the decision to love her because she was a free spirit, not despite it,” he continued. “As for your father, he loved your mother’s wild side, but he was most attracted to her organizational side. She was pragmatic, too.”

  I scowled. “Are you saying I’m like my mother?”

  “I’m saying you’re a unique individual, but you have bits of your mother in you.”

  “I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.”

  “Ah, the lament of daughters the world over,” Uncle Calvin teased, leading us through the front door of the inn.

  “What? We get to be inside this time?”

  “The kitchen doesn’t have any windows.”

  “Good point.”

  Uncle Calvin took the time to admire the woodwork – he was something of a carpenter if the stories told about him were to be believed – and by the time we made it to the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the dining room he was excited.

  “This place is wonderful.”

  “It’s pretty,” I agreed. “It’s also comfortable without being ostentatious.”

  “It’s homey,” Landon added. “I remember thinking that the first time I walked into this place. I liked it because it felt like a home and not a business.”

  “Was that before or after you met Bay?”

  “After.”

  “Were you already in love with her?”

  “I … .” Landon broke off, unsure. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if I fell in love with her the first time she opened her mouth and insulted me.”

  “Ha, ha.” I poked his side. “That’s not how it went.”

  “No. I guess not,” Landon conceded. “Still, I was intrigued by a woman who showed up to cover the opening of a corn maze. I was further intrigued – and completely agitated – by the woman I caught wandering around the same corn maze after dark. By the time you showed up – with your mother and aunts in matching tracksuits, by the way – I was pretty sure I wanted you in my world.”

  “That’s very romantic,” Uncle Calvin nodded. “You two are so cute together.” He took me by surprise when he grabbed my cheek and gave it a squeeze. “You are going to make it work over the long haul. It’s not just because you’re right for each other either. It’s that Landon here understands that you need to do your own thing. He doesn’t try to stifle your creativity while trying to keep y
ou safe. That’s always the hardest part to balance.”

  “I guess you’d know,” I said.

  “I would, indeed.” Uncle Calvin pushed open the door, tilting his head to the side at the sound of voices.

  “That’s not the right way to do it, Twila,” Marnie barked. “You need to make sure the potatoes hold together better so they don’t look weird on the plates.”

  “Where are the plates?” Mom asked. “Terry was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. We can’t start doling this stuff out until we have the plates.”

  “He’ll be here,” Twila said. “As for the potatoes, it doesn’t matter how they look. It matters how they taste. I’m the potato queen. I know when I’ve made a good potato.”

  Even though I couldn’t see her face, I could practically see Marnie’s eye roll. “Oh, whatever. I’m the queen of potatoes. No one has ever tasted my potato salad and said otherwise.”

  “She’s not wrong,” Landon said. “That is some freaking good potato salad. I miss it. We had it all of the time during summer and now … never.”

  “You’ll be excited when she brings it out in time for Mother’s Day.” I rested my hand on his forearm, thankful he was with me so I wasn’t stuck in this nightmare alone. “Mashed potatoes are good, too.”

  “They are.” Landon rested his forehead on mine, briefly giving in to the exhaustion that lined his face. “I’m tired.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I’m also sick of seeing things that seem to have no bearing on what’s happening,” Landon added, lifting his eyes to Uncle Calvin. “Why are we here? We get it. They’re going out of their way to put on a charity dinner. We’ve been so caught up in ourselves – in our first real Christmas together – we overlooked the signs. We’re bad people, but we’re ready to make up for it. Why are we still being punished?”

  “Because you haven’t seen everything yet,” Uncle Calvin replied. “It’s not just knowing that you would have missed out on something important if left to your own devices. There’s more.”

  “What?”

  “We’re not quite there yet.”