Twilight Christmas: A Carolina Coast Novella (Carolina Coast Novels Book 3)

by Normandie Fischer

  Twilight Christmas

  A Carolina Coast Novella

  Normandie Fischer

  Copyright © 2016 by Normandie Fischer.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Sleepy Creek Press www.sleepycreekpress.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover Design, Normandie Fischer with thanks to photographers from Unsplash.com

  Twilight Christmas/Normandie Fischer -- 1st ed.

  ISBN: 978-0-9861416-8-3

  Created with Vellum

  Dedicated to Finn Alexander Scoville

  Blessings of kindness and strength to you, my beloved grandson. May you always live up to your name as a fair defender of men.

  Perfect love casts out fear.

  ―John 4:18

  O Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth

  To dim enchantments—melting heaven to earth—

  Leaving on craggy hills and running streams

  A softness like the atmosphere of dreams.

  ―MRS. NORTON

  Hail, twilight! sovereign of one peaceful hour!

  ―WORDSWORTH

  How beautiful the silent hour, when morning and evening thus sit together, hand in hand, beneath the starless sky of midnight!

  ―LONGFELLOW

  1

  Louis

  Louis drew his hand back from his mama’s cheek. No matter how many times he shook her, cried out to her, begged her, she stayed cold and gray. No breath, no tears, no nothing.

  He wanted the images of her blank eyes and her pale lips undone. Once upon a time, those lips had smiled around her snaggletooth, one just like his, but it would never catch or embarrass her again.

  He wanted last night back. Last night she’d still been alive. Last night she hadn’t smelled funny.

  He took a step away from her bed. He’d leave the empty pill bottle at her side and not even try to close her eyes like he’d seen them do on TV. The police would figure out how she’d died, what she’d taken, what had finally let her out of this life and her need to be a mother to them.

  He bit hard on his lower lip. He would not get angry at how she’d left them, left him, to cope.

  He didn’t hear Linney pad in and couldn’t stop her before she climbed up beside the mama who wasn’t there. As she reached a hand toward Mama’s cheek, he cried out. “No! Don’t touch.”

  But she already had. A quick touch. A quick moan. A barely heard “Cold.” And then, “Ma . . . ma? Wake up,” said with the beginning of tears.

  He called her to him, but she just sat there uncomprehending. He swiped at his nose. It kept leaking, like his eyes did, and his tears fogged up his glasses. He pulled them off, wiped them on his shirt, wiped his eyes with his hands, then stuck his too-loose frames back on his nose and tried to get control of himself. He had to stop acting like a baby so he could fix things. Soon as they found out his mama was dead, they’d come take him and Linney, and they’d put Linney one place and him another.

  Just like last time.

  “Come on. I’ll . . . I’ll fix your breakfast.” He reached for his sister’s hand. He could do this. He had to do this.

  Linney looked once more at the body that wasn’t their mama anymore and trailed behind him to the kitchen area.

  “Sit,” he said before he turned back to close the bedroom door, softly, as if anything else might wake the sleeping.

  If only it would. If only it would.

  He couldn’t think about that. Instead, he got out the sugared cereal Linney shouldn’t eat in spite of it being her favorite, filled a bowl with the last of it, poured in milk, and set it before her. She smiled brilliantly up at him.

  He couldn’t eat a single thing. Not until he figured out what to do and how to fix this.

  Mama kept her old suitcase stuffed with summer clothes ’cause the trailer didn’t have enough room for more drawers. He dragged it from behind the couch, opened it, and took out everything they didn’t need. Then he went to Linney’s room and got some warm things for her, then some for him. He stuffed those in and remembered he’d need plenty of pull-up diapers for his sister. And the wipe things, in case she had an accident. If she was scared or upset, accidents happened. Too many times. And he hated having to help her, now she was getting older.

  It shouldn’t be him. It really shouldn’t.

  But who else was there? Who else had there been most nights?

  To make the pull-ups fit in the suitcase he had to take out some of his clothes, including his extra sweater. Linney needed more changes of clothes anyway. He could make do. He tried to decide which of his books he should bring. No way he wanted to get stupid just ’cause he couldn’t go to school anymore.

  Then he checked around to see if he’d forgotten anything.

  The cops would come hunting them if he left the trailer looking like this. While Linney watched, he put everything in order, the way Mama would have, before he sat down to write a note in his best cursive, copying Mama’s writing, fixing things so no one would come looking.

  He’d wait until dark. Then he’d fill a sack with other things he’d need and figure out how to get him and Linney and their stuff to a good hiding place. He had time to figure it out.

  Figuring out how to make Linney understand why Mama wasn’t in the body back there was gonna be harder. She’d never understand death, but she was a good girl. A four-year-old trapped in the body of a twelve-year-old but with none of the attitude he’d seen on other kids. Linney was the smilingest, happiest girl he knew.

  And she was his responsibility.

  He took out another piece of paper and tried to make a list of the hows and the wheres. He had to do this right if he was gonna fix things. Find a place, find a way, and use the time until dark to plan their future. He’d already emptied Mama’s hiding jar and counted out the bills. It was enough for now, but then what? Money and running out of it was his biggest fear.

  Next to being found and having someone bad get Linney, like had happened to that other girl in special ed.

  2

  Annie Mac

  The ancient furnace chugged on. Minutes later it shuddered, whined, and quit. Annie Mac registered the noises, but barely, and then she slid deeper into sleep.

  And back into the dream.

  She wasn’t certain whether the cold or the dream woke her. She knew she’d cried out, and she was sitting up in the bed.

  What a mess.

  Both she and the furnace were disasters waiting to happen.

  She checked the bright red numbers on the clock. Three forty-three. Perhaps if she picked up a soothing book, she’d find a temporary place where sleep could slide in peacefully.

  Perhaps. But first she should check on the children.

  A storm raged off the Atlantic and had been met by a low pressure system swooping down from Canada, causing temperatures to plummet in Beaufort, North Carolina. This was not the night to be without heat, not in a house w
ith single-paned windows and uninsulated walls.

  Ty always flung off covers. When she pulled them up again and added a quilt to the mass, he behaved like a typical almost-teen and didn’t stir. Five-year-old Katie did, squirming to resettle and plugging her thumb between her lips.

  Annie Mac drew heavy socks over toes that wouldn’t warm on their own and snuggled under her quilt with a Charles Martin book she’d been reading. Getting lost in the pages of one of Martin’s books usually changed her mood, but his stories of strong and valiant heroes brought comparisons into sharp relief, the fictional and the real. If only she’d read his stories when she’d been young. If only she’d known there were options, that not all strong men behaved like her harsh and judgmental father, that pretty and easy-going didn’t equate with kind and loving. Maybe she wouldn’t have made one mistake on top of the other. Maybe then she’d have been able to accept the love of the one good man who’d ever shown up in her life. Clay Dougherty was a real hero, a truly fine man.

  Just not hers.

  He could never be hers.

  Her internal clock woke her much too early for a cold December morning. The idea of leaving her warm cocoon for frigid rooms had her snuggling under the covers and shutting her eyes.

  Eventually, though, even the pretense of sleep failed, and she rose to begin her day. Ty and Katie would linger in bed, taking advantage of two days off because of optional teacher workdays. The optional part meant she could work from home and be here for them.

  She dressed hurriedly in jeans, a turtleneck, and a heavy sweater, and headed to the kitchen, wishing it were late enough to call about the furnace. While her kettle heated and while her tea steeped, she made notes of all she had to accomplish—including the non-optional task of tallying her students’ grades and preparing progress reports before Christmas break.

  Her hot mug warmed her hands, and the quilt she’d dragged with her warmed her back and shoulders, but if someone didn’t come fix that furnace soon, she might actually utter a few words better left unspoken.

  By the time she finished her list and her tea, it was after eight, surely not too early to call the property manager. He didn’t have the day off, which meant someone ought to pick up.

  No one did.

  Fine. Whatever. She left a message. And, yes, she was nice about it.

  And then she retrieved her school folder and got to work before her children woke. Her afternoon would be busy. Katie had an appointment for a check-up, and Ty was supposed to spend the afternoon at his friend Jilly’s.

  He’d like that. And tonight he’d get to stay over at Clay’s so they could have another sailing lesson in the morning. He needed to pack his bag for that.

  And make promises to his mother that he wouldn’t drown.

  In spite of wanting to keep her boy to herself, she knew he needed a male role model. She just hated that he’d picked Detective Lieutenant Clay Dougherty, the man who’d saved their life and given them a home when they’d needed one. Oh, and by the way, the man she was probably in love with. If she knew anything about love.

  And if love existed for someone like her. How could it exist for a woman who cringed from a good man because the last man had used his fists, had used force, and still showed up in her nightmares?

  No, Ty would have to settle for these occasional days and overnights with his idol. Hah. The whole thing felt like a divorce with visitation rights for the kids.

  But it had to be this way. It did.

  It took the realtor three hours to return her call, but she eventually extracted a promise that someone would tend to the furnace. Perhaps this time the fix would be longer lasting.

  “Time to go!” she called toward the bedrooms.

  It amazed her how quickly kids could be herded into a car when they were off to play instead of heading to school. And going to Jilly’s was particularly fun. Normally, they’d walk the short distance between houses, but Katie’s appointment was clear across the bridge into Morehead.

  Jilly waved when Annie Mac pulled up next to the Merritt’s back yard. “Brisa’s here, too! Come on, let’s play!”

  “Me, too!” Katie tried to free herself before her mother could even open the door.

  “Hang on,” Annie Mac said and helped her down. “We’re only going to be here a few minutes.”

  “Okay!”

  Tadie, Jilly’s step-mother, greeted them from the porch. Holding her very wiggly one-year-old son, she introduced Annie Mac to their new neighbors, Agnes and her daughter, Brisa, who’d just moved to Beaufort from New Jersey. Brisa was a knockout with her caramel-colored skin and thick black hair, and her mama, Agnes, seemed nice.

  Blond, red, and black heads all racing around the yard together made Annie Mac want to grab a camera to capture the wonder of childhood joy. Which just sent her heart into a flutter that was half thrill and half pain. Her babies. Laughing, running, unafraid, the terror of last year maybe not forgotten but certainly set aside and fading into a past that no longer held them captive.

  If only she could let it go as easily.

  She chatted with the other two women, not really registering much as she thought of all she had to accomplish today. And then she excused herself. “We’d better get going.”

  Katie pouted and protested that she didn’t want to leave the fun. Of course, she didn’t.

  “We’ll see how much time we have when we pick up your brother,” Annie Mac said, before she remembered Ty would have to get ready to spend the night away from home. The constriction returned, and she sighed. “At any rate, you and I will have fun. We’ll do some shopping after our appointment and then get an ice cream. How does that sound?”

  “’Nilla?” Katie asked around her thumb.

  “Perfect.”

  Tadie walked with them to the car, Sammy still attached to her hip, and stood to one side as Annie Mac buckled Katie into her booster seat. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Brisa and her mama, because I don’t think they’re into church activities, but I assume your two will be in the pageant this year?”

  “They will. I’ll be working on costumes.”

  “I was wondering if you’d mind taking Jilly with you when you go. She’s looking forward to being part of it again, and—”

  “And you have Sammy. We’d love for Jilly to go with us. After all you’ve done for me and mine?”

  “Don’t be silly. We’re friends. Anyway, you want to bring Katie by after her appointment, she’ll be welcome.”

  “Appreciate it, Tadie, but she’ll need a nap after we finish at the store.”

  “You probably will, too.”

  Annie Mac grinned. “You know it. I only have patience to deal with my fourth graders if I’m not exhausted.”

  “You sleeping okay these days?”

  “Most nights. Thank you for asking.” She slid in behind the wheel and buckled her seatbelt. “I’ll call you when I get back. Clay invited Ty to spend the night. They’re sailing tomorrow, if the weather cooperates.”

  Tadie glanced over her shoulder at the back yard where Ty chased the two girls. “Why don’t you tell Clay to pick up Ty here? You could bring his overnight things later.”

  “That’s tempting.” It would mean she wouldn’t have to see Clay until he brought Ty back tomorrow. She wouldn’t have to yearn—or see the yearning reflected in Clay’s expression. “Thanks, Tadie.”

  She backed out onto Front Street and headed away from town. First things first. The doctor, the store, and then the rest of the day—with her baby, her sweetest little girl. Her blessing.

  She remembered the anniversary while bagging her groceries. There was nothing remarkable about the plastic sack in her hands, and nothing about the process that should have focused her thoughts and brought back the memory. But remember she did.

  It had been four years since Auntie Sim’s death. Four years since that precious woman had left her alone in a house that would see too much violence and too much pain.

  “O
h, Auntie Sim, I miss you.” She glanced at the small floral section near the produce. From where she stood, nothing looked fresh enough to last the night. They’d stop at the farmer’s market on the way to the cemetery and buy some bulbs that would bloom in the spring. That would have to be after she filled the car with gas and put the cold items away and took Ty’s duffel to Tadie’s.

  Katie would just have to go with her and nap in the car. Because Annie Mac was not going to miss honoring the woman who’d rescued her and given her a life when her parents had shown her teenaged self the highway.

  She leaned toward Katie. “What do you think, sweetie? You want to take flowers to Auntie Sim? And plant some for spring?”

  The thumb broke suction but remained between her lips. “I love fwowers.”

  “I know you do. Will you help me pick out some pretty ones?”

  “Yeth, ma’am.” The thumb came out. “When can I have ice cream?”

  “We’ll get some at the plant nursery. They’ve got a nice market there.” And she hoped they still sold cones in winter.

  At least last night’s storm had passed, and with every hour of daylight, the warmth had spread. It was now a balmy sixty-five, according to the flashing sign at the bank. Sixty-five would be perfect for planting bulbs.

  Storms passed. They always did.

  Ice cream drips dotted Katie’s light jacket and ran down her fingers and chin. Annie Mac grabbed a baby wipe and scrubbed off what she could and then collected the pot of crocuses, the new trowel, and several bottles of water. Katie held out her hands to help.

  “Here you go.” Annie Mac handed her a water bottle and led the way to the plot where a simple stone marked her auntie’s grave.

  Katie marched beside her, waving the bottle like a baton and extending it when they arrived. “Here, Mommy, you take it,” she said. “I’m gonna go see the angels.”