by Ellie Hall
Logan signed the napkin and the woman strode away.
He rested his elbows on the table and leaned in. "Thank you. I never know how to deal with it. I've had people interrupt me in the bathroom, you know, while I'm…stopping on the street, practically causing accidents in traffic. It's wild, dangerous, crazy. And all I do is sing and play guitar, piano sometimes." He exhaled as though exhausted.
"Well, if isn't for the fame, why do you do it?"
Before he could answer, several teens rushed up to the table, squawking all at once about how they were huge fans.
Like a deer in headlights, Logan met Clara's eyes and then streaked from the restaurant. She shuffled after him, grabbing the bags of baked goods.
Outside, he pounded down the sidewalk, but Clara caught up to him, panting. "Where are you going?"
"I can't take it. I just want to be alone." He didn't stop walking.
Clara stood as snow flurried around her, dancing and dropping, painting the city white, like a canvas. Like the night gave them both an opportunity to begin fresh.
"Logan," she called, catching up to him again. "What are you running from?"
"Just leave me alone."
He moved to cross the street, but passing traffic barred the way.
Unsure what else to say, Clara blurted. "No."
"No?"
"No questions. Just no. I'm not leaving you alone."
"Then you're just like the rest of them." He pulled his hat lower against the squall.
"No. I'm not. You said so yourself." She realized she was holding her breath and let it out, forming a little cloud.
She followed him across the street and stepped in front of him. They stood beneath the neon glow of a sign for an Indian food restaurant.
"I only have three dollars and even elves can't eat only cookies for dinner. You owe me a meal. I'm not leaving you alone until I'm fed and when I get hungry, I get mean." She narrowed her eyes and glowered. Clara detected the hint of a teasing smile on Logan's lips.
He thumbed the Indian restaurant. "Fine. Let's go in." Despite his gruff tone, he held open the door for her.
The warm scent of spices enveloped them as they sat down in the low-lit room. They ordered water, but the waiter brought them each a mango lassi. Clara didn't even need to look at the menu. She knew what she was going to order. Logan seemed to study his.
"Have you ever eaten Indian food before?" she asked ready with some recommendations.
He didn’t answer but eyed the door. His posture was rigid as though he battled with himself.
"Logan, you can keep running, but whatever it is you're trying to escape will eventually catch up."
"Do you know this from experience?"
"I thought I could forgive you for deserting Daisy because of your lifestyle, but maybe you're a coward. Perhaps you run when things get difficult."
The accusation landed hard and Logan's expression passed through shock at her words to sadness at their accuracy. He winced and tried to cover it up with a slick brushing through of his hair with his hand. "You have no idea."
"I think I do, actually."
Chapter 8
Logan
Tension built between Logan and Clara as the moments passed and the wait staff took their order.
"Can you be brave? Please?" This time her words were gentle, encouraging.
Logan scrubbed his hand down his face. "My grandmother loved curry. When she was growing up in London, she lived over a little curry shop and would tell me how she'd eat lunch there nearly every day."
"She had a dog named Daisy."
Logan nodded, encouraged. "That was her favorite kind of flower." He went on to tell Clara about his beloved grandmother until their food came—how she was proper and frugal, funny and kind, and mostly how much she loved Christmas.
It was a symphony of flavors, spices, and heat in bowls they shared and bread they passed. When they were done, Clara leaned back, her belly full and a smile on her face.
Then an all too familiar Christmas jingle played over the speakers.
"Seriously? Here?" Logan asked as though he expected only to hear traditional music in the establishment.
He threw down his napkin and tossed several bills on the table. Outside, he took a deep breath of the cold air and leaned against the brick building, gazing at the snow falling quietly.
Clara found him but he resisted meeting her eyes. "Come on. It's not that bad." She started singing All I want…
"I'm done with this. With the song. This holiday. With all the merriment. It's—"
"It's the most wonderful time of the year," she said, unrelenting.
"It isn't," he countered, practically yelling. "Not when you've lost everyone you loved."
She caught his eyes. He imagined them to look wide, wild, and desperate. Hers pinched with sadness. She extended her arm as though trying to coax a scared animal.
"Logan, I do know. The Grind coffee shop, where we met earlier, that was my brother's favorite." She stepped closer. "Cole was my brother's best friend. He blamed me for Freddie's death and he might be right." Her shoulders bunched up by her ears. "It was Christmas Eve. We always spent it together after our mom died in an accident. We never knew our father. It was our senior year. I was preoccupied with school—NYU. Freddie never went to college, but he'd visit me all the time and spend hours at the Grind while I was at class. I wanted to go home, really, but the logistics, the excitement of the city…Cole and I were together then—we started dating when I was a freshman at the university—and he went back home to visit his family, but Freddie was alone." Clara paused, sniffing back her tears. Her voice strained as though she rarely spoke of the tragedy.
The wind blew the snow around them and she shivered. Logan drew her into the alcove of the building.
"I spoke to Freddie on Christmas Eve and then I didn't hear from him after that. There was a storm so I thought maybe the phone lines were down." She shrugged. "That night Cole called. He found Freddie and the pills. My brother couldn't handle being alone. He was depressed and stopped taking his medication then took too much. If I'd gone back, if I'd—"
A sob cut itself loose from Clara and Logan pulled her close, anchoring her in the wind, a promise not to let her blow away in the storm of her emotions. He felt her heart beating in her chest and hoped she found comfort in the steady rhythm of his until the tears stopped. When she pulled away, the neon green hoodie was damp.
"I know now that it wasn't my fault. Freddie was depressed. But Cole blamed me. It turned into shame and a really awful relationship. I had to get help. From then on, I vowed not to let loneliness be the enemy. Not to be afraid of it like my brother was, but I also know how hard being alone can be..."
"You're brave," Logan said. He wanted his words to warm her and if not, his arms as they held her close.
"Trust me; I do know a thing or two about loss."
"Earlier you said no one should be alone on Christmas." His eyes found hers and he didn't waver.
"I guess I don't want anyone to feel lonely. Not my brother, not dogs…I want to help people. Including you."
"You have, Clara, you have." He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes, breathing her in.
Just then, a homeless man staggered toward them, waving a bottle covered in a paper bag and rambling about the snow.
Logan pulled Clara closer, but she stepped away and gave him a package of the cookies. "Merry Christmas," she said.
The man blinked a few times, clutched the package to his chest, and said, "Merry Christmas," repeating it until he was out of earshot.
Clara returned to the alcove and resumed her position in front of Logan and he wrapped her tight again. "You're cold."
"I should head back to the shelter."
"Yeah, we should."
He caught the smile that bloomed on her face at those words. Then she took his hand and he let her lead the way through the snowy and glowy streets of the city.
Back at Angel Ears, Clara got the puppies read
y, tying bows around their necks. "I'd like to sell some of my knit items along with the baked goods—all proceeds will benefit the shelter."
Dotty immediately recognized Logan and pawed at him until he sat with her on the floor. She snuggled into his lap.
While Clara explained how the adoption process worked, the tree smashed to the floor. Comet got to his feet with his tail between his legs. Clara sighed.
"Tell me, why trash the place, Comet? Maybe you and Logan should discuss respecting other people's property."
Logan bristled.
"Penny mentioned you trashed a hotel room."
He got to his feet and anger came off him in waves. "I'd just found out my grandmother died. My manager wouldn't let me take some time off. They kept pushing me. I wasn't there when it happened… Everyone leaves me. She wasn't even old. She didn't even tell me about her heart condition. I walked out of that concert because I couldn't keep it together. I was going mad. I can't sing or hear that song about Christmas because she loved carols—that one in particular. She always said Christmas was the most wonderful time of the year. When the record label offered me the deal to sing it, I thought she'd love it. She never got to hear it." Logan stepped back, catching his breath. "You asked why I play music and sing. Because of her, my grandmother. She enjoyed it, she believed in me, stood by me. She was my biggest fan."
"It wasn't your fault," Clara whispered.
He looked from her in her elf suit to Dotty in his arms and softened, as all the fire burned out of him, not leaving him cold, but not flaming mad either. It was as if everything that had built up finally came out. Some part of him knew Clara would understand.
He stroked Dotty's fur, sat in a chair, and sighed.
The clock on the wall ticked closer to six—when Clara said she was going to post about the puppies—but also as though counting down the seconds between him running away again or apologizing.
Clara cleared her throat. "Logan, I'm sorry that happened to you, but mostly that you've had to deal with it alone."
"Most of my old friends just kind of fell away, replaced by music and fans."
"When I was at the worst of it with Cole, when he made it out to be my fault my brother felt alone in the world, I started to feel alone, isolated, until I reached out for help."
Logan reflected on his encounter with Cole, recognizing the guy's anger at the loss of his best friend, something he couldn't control, couldn't have prevented. Logan was looking for a fight because he couldn't fight for his grandmother. He was on the road. Away. He missed those last moments. But now the anger, the fight was gone, extinguished.
He sat and thought for a few long minutes. Then he brightened and got to his feet. "Reaching out for help? That's just what we're going to do."
Chapter 9
Clara
Logan paced in front of Clara. "We could bring people to the puppies as you'd planned. Or we could bring the puppies to the people."
Clara paused, not sure if that was allowed, but she was willing to do anything to find the dogs forever homes. She went into the office and called a few of the Angel Ears employees to ask permission and who she hoped might be willing to spend a few hours in the snow, trying to match families to the dogs.
He quickly outlined their plan and got on his phone, making calls and sending texts to people in the music industry who could help on short notice.
She found an old wagon and some blankets in a storage closet. They loaded ten of the puppies into the wagon, with Comet on a leash and wearing one of her biggest sweaters. She bundled the others up. When they were ready, she watched Logan carefully settle in Dotty, who didn’t want to leave his side. Something inside of her didn't want to either, but that was foolish. He was a famous rock star, set to go on tour. She was a struggling New Yorker with three jobs and a side hustle. He wore stylish clothing. She was in an elf suit. He probably had a girlfriend or three. She was still trying to get out from under the confines of her ex. Just as the snow would melt in the coming days, she let the fantasy dissolve. Yet, in his arms and with his lips brushing hers, it all set her alight, like a star atop the tallest tree, like the decorations lining the streets, like her heart on fire.
As they passed a church, she paused in front of the nativity. Logan stopped by her side.
"Do you think they're up there, watching us?"
Clara knew he meant his grandmother and her brother. She nodded.
"My grandmother loved the Nativity. She had a miniature one she treasured and set up on the mantle."
"Where is it now?"
Logan shrugged. "Packed away."
"Maybe you should find it and set it up."
"Yeah. I bet she'd like that."
"My brother always used to know when it was going to snow. He said he could smell it." She inhaled then, imagining him beside her and trying to describe it.
"'It's like winter, like mountains, like ice."
Clara welcomed Logan's arm when he wrapped it around her. She sighed as she leaned into him. However, the dogs were getting restless. She struggled to pull the wagon along the unshoveled sidewalk. Logan gripped the handle and they towed the wagon together. With his other hand, he pulled up his social media feed and started recording a live video, alerting all of his followers that he had twelve wishes to grant this Christmas. "Twelve puppies are wishing for a new family to love and take care of them." Then he gave instructions of where to meet.
When they got to Central Park, a small stage was set up under a tent. Several men dressed in black scurried around connecting cables and wires.
"Wow," Clara said. "What Logan Ryder wants Logan Ryder gets."
His eyebrows arched and he smirked. "I think my manager was the one making the Christmas wish, hoping I'd get my act together and do something right for once."
"I take it he didn't approve of the bad boy image you'd started to cultivate."
"Not even slightly. Although, maybe it was all for a reason."
"My brother used to say how everything happened for a reason."
They stepped closer together, toe to toe, under the tent as the puppies sat quietly in the wagon, probably wondering where they were and why and what was happening.
"Do you believe that?" Logan asked. His breath was minty and whispered over her skin.
"In fate?"
He inclined his head as she lifted off her heels.
She swallowed and his eyes flicked to hers then to her lips. She wanted them on hers, she wanted all of him, especially his heart,—the treasure she discovered behind the Grinchy, Scroogey, Yeti-y walls he'd built.
Just then, Comet wiggled between them and plopped down on their feet.
Logan cleared his throat. "Right. The dogs. We'd better get to work." He spoke to several of the people connecting the microphones to the PA.
Christmas carols filtered through the speakers. Clara snuggled the dogs while she waited for everything to be ready. A crowd gathered by the foot of the stage.
Logan strode toward her with a microphone in hand. "Ready, Bubbles?"
She smiled.
Logan introduced Clara as an animal angel for Angel Ears Shelter and proudly flaunted his bright green sweatshirt. She explained about the shelter, the dogs, and how adoption was a commitment and a responsibility not to be entered on a whim. When she was done, she looked into the crowd. A sea of faces stared back at her, too many to count. They clapped and the lights of their phones glowed.
She and Logan then introduced each of the dogs, their personalities, and temperament. Comet pranced across the stage as though made for the applause.
Just before they queued everyone interested in adoption to fill out the paperwork, Logan announced, "For every puppy adopted, I'll also match funds for the care of a dog that doesn't go home with a new family tonight."
The crowd went wild. Several members of the press and online news outlets ate up the generous, philanthropic version of Logan and lobbed questions at him. Someone with a recorder asked, "Last week you w
ere nearly arrested. What caused the change of heart?"
Logan's gaze landed on Clara.
If her cheeks weren't already pink from the cold, she'd have blushed. "There are homeless dogs all over the city and the country who aren’t going to be as lucky as these twelve. The shelters are full. If you want to adopt and don't get a dog tonight, there will be more the day after Christmas." Then she gave instructions for how to go through the screening process. "Thank you all for coming out tonight. It means a lot."
Logan leaned in and said, "Oh, and our puppy elf, I mean Clara, makes little, tiny knitwear to keep your pup warm. She has an online shop called the Well Knit Woof if you'd like to leave a gift under the tree for your pooch."
"I can't promise delivery tomorrow," she protested.
Logan smiled. "You're already dressed up like an elf and Grouchy McCrabbypants doesn't have anywhere else to be. I suppose we could keep the team together. After all, no one should be alone on Christmas."
Just then, someone shouted angrily from the crowd. Several people parted and Cole rushed to the front of the stage. "Yeah, no one should be alone, Clara, but Freddie was because you're a selfish—"
Clara's breath caught in her throat as she crouched down to deal with him without the attention of the public and potentially the entire world since numerous people recorded the event on their phones and broadcasted it on their social media accounts.
Cole's breath reeked of alcohol. "It's your fault—"
Clara knew it wasn't her fault, but guilt still pricked her insides like icicles, but if Logan could melt, so could she. "Maybe it's your own guilt that's devouring you. Perhaps you should take the spotlight off me and have a look at yourself, Cole."
Rage colored his face purple and he tried to scramble onto the stage. A uniformed officer stepped in and Cole shrunk back, his eyes flitting from Logan to Clara, to the cop.
Logan flipped on the mic again. "I think someone is going to be on Santa's naughty list this year. If you're not going to support the animal shelter or be nice to Clara, you're going to find coal in your stocking, Cole."