Homecoming for Christmas

by Ciara Knight

  I looked to Brent who only kissed my forehead. As if my mind wasn’t spinning enough, he had to go and set it to system overload. “I don’t understand.”

  “Go talk to her.” Brent nudged me.

  I looked at him. “After this, we work on your relationship with your parents. Turn around’s fair play, isn’t that what they say around here?” I went to the kitchen, but when Mom caught sight of me, I thought her eyes slanted to all sorts of anger. I hadn’t seen that look since I’d set fire to the garden in ninth grade when I tried a cigarette. That day didn’t end well, and I was guessing this conversation wasn’t going to go any better. I only hoped this time she didn’t ground me for life, take away the car, and tell me how disappointed she was in me.

  Nine

  Mom pointed at the abandoned, naked gingerbread men. “Need to frost those if we’re going to go soon.” She said, her voice sounded hallow, far away.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Talk while you frost, and I clean up. We don’t have time for family drama, not if you really do care about this town the way you claim you do.” Mom’s voice deepened with anger.

  I picked up the tube and piped the white frosting onto the first one. “Mom, I thought you didn’t care what happened to me. I thought you were glad I was out of your life and not getting in your way or causing you trouble any more. I don’t understand that book. You said I was a failure for not going to college. You told me to leave.”

  “I only told you to leave because you were miserable here. You hated small town life, you didn’t want to be around your family, and I thought I was doing what was best for you. You cried yourself to sleep at night from prom night to graduation.”

  “You heard me?” I glanced at the doorway to make sure Brent wasn’t standing there.

  “Of course, I did. You’re my daughter, aren’t you?” Mom dried several dishes and set them to the side. “I might not be well spoken or educated but believe it or not I was a good mother. I wasn’t perfect, but I tried.”

  “I didn’t want to leave, but I had to. You’re right, there was nothing for me here. You were always mad at me and I didn’t think anyone in this family wanted me around. I was the black sheep, lone wolf, and epic pain in your tush all rolled together.”

  Mom turned and set the dish towel down. “You were mischievous, and I worried for your safety. You were beautiful, but I worried you were pinning over a guy you could never have. You were smart, but I worried you would never apply yourself. So, I pushed. Hard.”

  I couldn’t argue with her words. They were all true. “But you always got along so well with Alley, Abbey, Adam, and Andrew. We always fought. Why couldn’t we get along?”

  Mom pointed to the clock. “We’ll have to continue this conversation later.”

  I wanted to hash this out further, but she was right. Something told me my words were hollow to her and she needed to see me help our town.

  She quickly piped out the frosting on the remaining cookies, boxed them, bagged everything and handed one to me. “Brent?”

  “Here.” He popped his head around the kitchen door. Gingerbread crumbs were scattered across his perfect, firm lips, and bits flaked from his beard.

  “How did you steal a cookie without us seeing you?”

  “I didn’t.” He said, licking his lips and wiping them free of evidence.

  Mom cackled. The way she used to when I was a little girl. The same cackle my grandmother had that filled a room and echoed through the house with its southern style. “You two belong together.”

  I eyed the bag and looked at the clock, then back at mom, but I couldn’t look at Brent. I didn’t want to see his reaction to her words, but then he snagged my free hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles. “I would agree.”

  The spirit of Christmas danced in my belly with a rip roaring, foot stomping, partying all night kind of dance. My words trapped behind eight years of wanting and eight years of knowing I couldn’t have him. And five seconds of thinking I could.

  He released my hand and followed Mom out the door. “You coming? This was your big plan.”

  I shook my head free of all the crazy voices asking questions. What if Mom did want me in Christmas Mountain? What if Mom did love me? What if Brent wanted to be with me? What if…What if…What if… Those two words followed me out the door, down the street, around the buildings all the way to the town square. Then I remembered what Ms. King said once. “If you keep asking yourself questions then you’ll never find answers. If you assert yourself and make people know what you want, then the guessing ends.”

  People gathered around as we approached, so I had to force my own troubles and questions to the side. “What is all this?” Mrs. Melba Cross, retired teacher I remembered from school shouted.

  “My daughter came home and discovered we no longer did tree decorating together, so she helped me bring a little Christmas Cheer back to our little town. After all, we are Christmas Mountain.” My mom scooted ornaments to the side on the park bench and opened the first batch of cookies.

  “What’s she sayin’?” Mrs. Cross asked, cupping a hand to her ear. She was frailer than I’d remembered.

  Miles Wilson inhaled with extra drama. “Oh my, I forgot how good those smelled.” He grabbed at one with his wrinkled, leathery hands but Mom swatted him away.

  “Whatcha all sayin’?” Mrs. Cross hollered still holding her hand to her ear. Despite leaving the south over forty years ago, the thick accent still hung on enough to make the hollering sound a little like a cow call.

  Brent sat his bag of cookies down and leaned into Mrs. Cross. “We brought Christmas Cookies.”

  “Christmas Cookies? Why we have those?”

  “Because it’s Christmas.” Brent opened his first box to show her, but she only blinked down as if she couldn’t see anything.

  “Why we eatin’ Christmas Cookies in January?”

  Brent smiled and handed her a cookie. “Because they’re delicious.”

  “What?”

  “Delicious.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” She nibbled a hand off. Her eyes went wide, and she grabbed the cookie with both hands. “Mine.” She shuffled to a chair, sat down and devoured it like a rabid chipmunk.

  The farmer, Mr. Claver joined us, set his box of ornaments down and hovered. “I’ll take one of those.”

  “Is my dad still working? You think he can get off early to come join us?”

  “I’m afraid he went to Creekside to pick up some supplies. He won’t be back until this evening.”

  Mr. Claver patted my shoulder. “Sorry, kiddo.” He snagged a cookie and took a bite. “Oh, I best call Officer Hutchinson. She’ll want some.”

  I groaned. Mr. Claver smiled. “That’s right I heard.”

  “Of course, you did, there are no secrets in Christmas Mountain.”

  “Welcome home, darling.” Brent said in his best exaggerated southern twang.

  “Cute.” I quipped, but if I admitted it to myself, he was darn adorable and considerate and sweet and handsome and so many other things.

  “You gonna give me another one of those or you hoggin’ them all to yourself? That ain’t nice.” Mrs. Cross said in a high-pitched squeal. She smacked my hand like I was three and reached for something that didn’t belong to me in a store.

  “Ouch.”

  Mrs. Cross snagged a cookie out of the box and shuffled her way back to her chair. Mental note. Watch the crazy, stealthy, old lady.

  Mr. Claver finished his call, no doubt to power hungry police officer Hutchinson and rejoined us. “You know what would make this even better, more traditional? Hot cocoa.”

  “Got it covered.” Brent pointed to Holly and two employees lugging a folded table, coffee urns, and Styrofoam cups.

  Mom smiled at me, today was the first time she’d smiled at me in years. And now she’d smiled twice. “You did this.”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think my mom was proud.

  “St
art the phone tree. Let’s get the entire town here within the hour,” Brent said.

  A police car pulled up and Officer Hutchinson got out. “You people didn’t file a permit for a party here today. What’s going on?”

  “Great, Fun Crusher has arrived,” I mumbled.

  “Shh, now that’s how you get yourself in trouble,” Mom said.

  Okay, that sounded more like the mom I knew. She walked over toward Officer Hutchinson who adjusted her belt as if to show more authority. “I’m so sorry, please join us. Here, enjoy one of the cookies.” Mom held the box up to Officer Hutchinson. “No, can’t. I’m on duty. Listen, I’m not trying to be a party crasher, but you can’t assemble the town without the proper permit.”

  Mr. Claver held up one of the ornament boxes. “We have a permit for this day. I filed it 364 days prior to today so that we can decorate the tree.”

  “That covers the parks and recreation requirement for the permit to have volunteers here to decorate the tree, it does not cover a party.”

  “It does if we have special permission and there are under fifty people.”

  Officer Hutchinson bit her bottom lip and eyed each of us. “Alright, that is within the laws of the town. Make sure it isn’t over fifty people here at a time. If so, then you need the 199 people permit which you have to apply for thirty days prior to the event.”

  “You got it.” Mom said and handed her a cookie. “It’s not a bribe if you’re part of the fifty.”

  Officer Hutchinson smiled, a real person kind of smile. She was human after all. I wanted to wiggle my way in and ask her about my car and dropping the charges, but Brent must’ve caught my expression and snagged my arm. “Now’s not the time. Count this as a major win.”

  Officer Hutchinson took a bite of a foot and then smiled. “By the way Mrs. Brooks, my shift ends in thirty-four minutes. After that, I’m not on duty anymore.” She winked. A playful, you-get-what-I’m-saying kind of wink and I swore my jaw dropped to my toes.

  “What’s that all about?” I asked.

  Brent patted my back like I was a town newcomer. “Oh, you’ve forgotten what it’s like here Ms. Big Time Business Owner. Do you remember the last time there was a female officer on our force?”

  “No, but we consisted of one sheriff when I lived here. That was about it.”

  “Right, and being the first female, she can’t make a mistake. The town council is still full of elders and women in the police force doesn’t sit well with them.”

  “So, if she allowed us to assemble and the elders found out she allowed it, they’d use that against her.”

  “You catch on quick.”

  I sighed, understanding the stigma that she had to face daily. How many men thought I couldn’t lift a tank on my own boat, how many tried to hit on me and called me Hot Skipper instead of Captain. I understood being a woman in a man’s world. I eyed everyone drawing toward the square. Mom told some of them to return in thirty minutes and we’d be ready to serve.

  It was the Christmas I’d dreamed of returning home to. There was only one Christmas wish I had left to make, so I took a deep breath of courage and slipped my hand into Brent’s. After fourteen years, I’d finally try to get him to see me as a girl instead of a buddy. Based on his chest rising and falling, his gaze transfixed on my hand, and then lifting it to my lips. I thought all my Christmas wishes were about to come true.

  Ten

  I slept all night with dreams of Christmas Trees, family, friends, and more. I’d entered town hoping to hide, but now all I wanted to do was see everyone. Last night had only kept getting better and better until I couldn’t deny the fact, I wanted to stay in Christmas Mountain for the holidays. It was sealed when I ran into Lexi and Morgan at the end of the night. It was as if it had only been days since we saw each other instead of years. I couldn’t wait to see Carol, Faith, Joy, and Emma.

  I wasn’t as excited to get my car out of the impound lot today as I thought I would be since I planned on sticking around for a while.

  The smell of fresh scones drew me to the dining room. Mr. Toni lifted a plate and sat it at a two-top table nestled by the fireplace that drew me to its warmth.

  “Glad you joined us this morning. I tried to catch you yesterday, but you bolted out too quick.” He also set down a cup. One with whipped cream piled on top. “Your mom said you loved hot chocolate and Ms. King said you liked honey flavored tea. I decided to make hot cocoa with my homemade marshmallow whipped topping.”

  “Both are correct.” I took a whiff of the chocolatey goodness and the fact that the entire town knew me and what I liked didn’t put me on edge this morning. It almost felt nice. A few years ago, when I’d caught some tropical, exotic flu that knocked me out for three weeks, no one came by to check on me. Clint was too busy trying to keep up with charters and I had no one else except long distant relationships from previous customers that I mostly chatted with online. I was positive if I’d had that kind of flu here, the entire town would show up with treats, homemade soup, and tender loving care. Could I belong to such a place now when I’d never fit in as a child?

  “I’ll let you enjoy. Brent Donnelly should be here soon with your car. Heard he showed up at the courthouse the minute it opened. He’s a good man, isn’t he?”

  “He sure is.” I took a sip of sugary goodness and sighed. “Oh, that’s amazing.”

  Mr. Toni laughed. “I suppose it is, but you might not want to wear it when Brent shows up. I’m rooting for you two kids.” Mr. Toni disappeared with a backhand wave and left me to my scrumptious breakfast. I enjoyed every morsel. I wiped my face clean of all evidence and sat back with a full-belly sigh.

  Mr. Toni brought out another plate of scones, but I held my hand up. “Oh no, I better not. I have to wear shorts and bathing suits for my job.”

  “That’s right, you own a charter company in the Keys, right?”

  “Yes. I guess town gossip even hits the Mistletoe Inn? Was it Jan or Melba?”

  “Your mom. She’s always bragging about you being the girl that went after her dreams.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. She’s so proud of you.”

  I dabbed my lips with the napkin one last time to make sure I didn’t have any more whipped cream decorating my mouth.

  “I wished I had some of your business skills,” Mr. Toni said. “I’m afraid I might have to sell Mistletoe Inn soon.”

  “Why? This is a lovely place.” I scanned the area and the charm was undeniable. Country chic Christmas décor added to the home town feel. It looked like something out of a Southern Living magazine. “Am I the only one staying here right now?”

  Mr. Toni shrugged. “Yep, for now.” He sighed. “Most businesses have had to sell. We don’t have the Christmas toy shop anymore, or the train shop. We don’t have any tourism to this town. They all want to go to Blacktail Mountain and other larger touristy kinds of places. We even tried to do some similar things for a while, but it didn’t draw any more people here.”

  “That was a mistake.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I placed my napkin on the table and stood. “You need to be unique, not copy some other town. You market it as an old-fashioned Christmas experience. You offer packages at the Mistletoe Inn that includes horse and buggy carriage rides around town utilizing the Claver’s horses and hay wagons. Dinner at Prancer’s Pancake House, Christmas activities at the Christmas Mountain Community Center. Help decorate the town tree, go on special hikes in our beautiful mountains with guides or restore old cabins in the hills for overflow reservations. There is so much more we could do.”

  “Don’t know about we.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know cooking and the Inn, I’m afraid not much else.”

  “And you’ve done a great job with it.” I smiled at the charm of his place and food.

  “That’s inspiring.” Brent’s voice startled us both.

  “I didn’t hear you come inside, sorry about that.” Mr. Toni said.<
br />
  “I snuck in. I heard you both talking about Christmas Mountain and I didn’t want to interrupt. You are so right, Ash. This town needs a revival. Ice skating, horse drawn carriages, Santa Claus, Santa’s workshop. All old-fashioned Christmas destination packages. I bet all the businesses in town would participate. We’d just need that outdoor experience piece ironed out. You know, the one where they take people on hikes and skiing and other adrenaline rush kind of activities. I wonder who would be good at something like that?” He winked at me and my knees felt like they were made from the marshmallow whipped cream.

  I balanced myself with a hand to the top of the bistro chair. “I think there’s a lot of untapped potential here in Christmas Mountain. Don’t you have that fancy business degree? I just run boats for a living.”

  He closed the distance between us with two steps. “I know books and spreadsheets. You have real experience beyond a small-town knitting store. You already run a tourist business. Together, we could make this work. I know we could.” His face lit up brighter than Rudolph’s nose on Christmas Eve. I didn’t want to burst his big hot air balloon full of hope, but how could I help?

  “I won’t be here that long. I mean, I have a business in the Keys, I don’t belong here.”

  He scooted closer and placed a hand on each of my shoulders. I trembled as if it was thirty degrees inside the Inn. “Then we’ll have to convince you to stay.”

  “Amen to that,” Mr. Toni declared. “You can count the Mistletoe Inn in on your Save Christmas Mountain project.”

  “Wait.” I waved my hands in front of me, but they were brushed to the side and Brent pulled me tight against him, lifting me from the floor. His chest smashed against mine, his strong arms wrapped around me. All words faded from thought.

  “We can do this, together.” Brent whispered to me. “I think it’s time we worked with each other. Instead of always running away.”