by Elsie Davis
“Look. A deer.” Becca sat up straighter, her face pressed to the window.
“The snow makes it easier to spot them. If you keep a close look-out, you might see more, especially if they look our way and our headlights are reflected in their eyes.”
The snow was getting thicker on the road, the lines now completely gone.
She hoped Heather was already at the cabin, because it wouldn’t be long before the roads were impassable. The road crews would be far more concerned with keeping the streets in Hallbrook plowed for the local town residents than the few homes located on the back-country roads outside town limits.
“The snow is pretty, and I can’t wait to play in it tomorrow. Can we make snow cream, Mom? Did you bring the evaporated milk and vanilla?” Megan caught Becca’s hopeful look in the rearview mirror.
“Of course, honey. All this fresh snow will make great snow cream. I’m sure your Aunt Heather will be on board to try our special treat.” She had forgotten it, and the extra trip back to the store had put them on the road later than she’d intended, but she’d also known her daughter wouldn’t forget the delicious concoction they made every year, and the last thing she wanted to do was disappoint Becca. Megan was trying to do the job of both parents, which sometimes meant going out of her way even when she was exhausted at the end of a long workday.
“Yay!” Her daughter’s smile made it all worthwhile.
They passed several farmhouses lit up against the darkened sky. Megan wished they had time to stop and take a picture, although she knew from experience it wouldn’t come out great because the flash would reflect off the snow and white out the photo. But there was something magical about trying to capture the perfect shot that always kept her trying. This picturesque country Christmas setting would need to remain etched her memory, at least for the time being.
The tracks in the road had dwindled to one set, and they were partially covered in snow.
“You have arrived at your destination.”
Megan flipped the GPS off and turned into the driveway of the well-lit log cabin home. Warm and welcoming and theirs for the week. Nice place, Mom.
“Look at the pretty tree.” Becca spotted the decorated flagpole in the center of the yard, the colored lights twinkling brightly against the snowy backdrop in the shape of a Christmas tree. Her voice held a note of renewed excitement now that they’d arrived.
The vehicle tracks led right up to the house, disappearing into the garage. Megan breathed a sigh of relief knowing her sister had already arrived. “It looks like Aunt Heather is already here. Hopefully, she’s got the house nice and warm. The bad news is she got the garage, and we’re stuck unloading our luggage in the snow.” Megan chuckled, shutting off the engine.
“Can I come back outside after we unpack?”
“Not tonight, sweetie. The thermometer says it’s only eighteen degrees outside, cold enough for us to freeze between the car and the house if we’re not bundled up. Zip up your jacket and make sure your hood is on. Hopefully, it will warm up tomorrow, and we can play outside then. The snow isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.” Not to mention Megan was tired. After an eight-hour day at the hospital, followed by a five-hour drive, it had been a long day.
“Okay, Mom.”
She loved Becca’s sweet spirit. It was rare for her to argue about anything, a trait Megan considered a total blessing after she’d returned home to care for her daughter full-time.
Becca gathered up her belongings and stuffed them in her duffle bag.
Megan grabbed her phone, slid it in her purse, and hooked the straps over her shoulder to free up her hands. Her motto had always been to carry everything in one trip, if possible. And on a cold, snowy night, one trip sounded like the perfect plan.
Becca slid out of the car and started dancing in the driveway as she tried to catch the falling flakes. Megan smiled as she popped the trunk open.
“I know you’re excited, and we will have plenty of time to play, I promise. But right now, I need you to help me get our stuff into the house. It’s freezing out here. Use the shoulder strap on your bag and put it over your head, and then you can carry our bag of snacks and toiletries for me. Time for teamwork.”
“I’m coming. It is really cold. I can’t believe we’re finally here.” Becca took hold of two of the beach bags and headed for the front door.
“Hurry, Mom. I just saw two eyes glowing at me. It looked like a wild animal.” Her daughter pointed toward the side of the garage and ran for the porch and safety.
“I’m sure it’s more afraid of you than you are of it.” Megan glanced in the direction she’d pointed but didn’t see a thing. She would check for tracks in the morning to err on the side of caution, but she wasn’t too concerned at this point. “I don’t see anything. It’s probably long gone. I’ll be right there.”
Megan grabbed the rest of their belongings, leaving the boxes of Christmas decorations for another trip in the morning. She made her way up the snow-covered path to the front porch. After hoisting the largest of the cases onto the Adirondack chair, she tried to open the door.
Locked. Of course. Heather was always sensible, but this was one time Megan wished her sister had put sensibility aside.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Brrrr. After coming from the heat of the car, the cold quickly replaced the warmth, seeping past the warm layer of her coat. They both tried to keep moving while they waited for Heather to answer.
“Hurry, Mom. It’s cold outside.” Becca’s teeth started to chatter.
“I’m sorry, honey. She must not be able to hear our knock. Hang on, and I’ll be right back. I left the letter with the code for the front door in the center console.”
Megan slid her purse and the other bags off her shoulders and set them down. She carefully made her way back to the truck, large snowflakes plastering to her hair and face. Thankfully, the confirmation letter was right where she’d put it, and it wasn’t long before she was back under the cover of the porch. A lantern light illuminating the entire area made it easy to read the code, and she punched in the numbers on the keypad.
The sound of the bolt sliding open on the first try was like a touch of Christmas magic answering their prayers. She pushed the door open and let Becca go in first. Megan picked up her luggage and followed her inside, using her foot to close the door behind her. She dropped everything in the tiled foyer area. It would be easier to wipe up any water tracks they left behind. Happy to be inside and out of the cold, she shrugged out of her jacket. She looked around the room, the cozy cabin as nice on the inside as it looked outside.
A large window in the living room framed out by curtains embellished with bear and deer overlooked the front yard. The matching brown leather sofa and armchair were plush and inviting, an old red and white patchwork quilt thrown across the back. The furniture all looked handmade, with a classic rustic charm of their own. The huge ceiling beams added to the appeal, giving her an appreciation for the solidly built structure.
“Aunt Heather started a fire.” Becca dropped her bags on the couch and moved closer to the crackling fire, holding her hands out to warm them.
“Just be careful. No horsing around near the fireplace. This place is freezing, so she couldn’t have been here long.” Megan rubbed her arms vigorously, trying to warm up. The room smelled of fresh pine and cinnamon, two of her favorite Christmas scents.
She moved the suitcase and other stuff from the front door to the couch. “Heather?” she hollered. Megan turned to Becca when Heather didn’t answer. “We need to haul our things to the bedroom and to the kitchen.”
“Can’t we warm up first? Please?” The slight whine in Becca’s voice was to be expected, the effects of a long drive having taken a toll.
“I guess it won’t hurt.” Stopping to relax for a few minutes sounded heavenly to her as well. The work wouldn’t go away, but a few minutes wouldn’t change a thing, and they had the entire night to unpack.
Becca slipped
off her jacket and dropped it on top of her suitcase. They moved closer to the fire, holding out their hands to draw the heat toward their bodies. The flames danced and licked at the barely burned logs, and Megan allowed herself to soak in the peace and warmth for just a moment. She let out a deep breath.
“Heather must be out back getting more firewood. It was a great idea to warm up, and the fire is just getting toasty.” Megan laughed, turning her backside to the flames.
“It’s pretty here. And I like the flagpole out front. It’s so Christmassy. But there’s no decorations inside, so I’m glad we brought all Grandma’s stuff.”
“Yes. It will be nice. I’ll get the boxes of decorations out of the backseat of the car tomorrow when I can see better.” And when it wasn’t so cold outside. The trip from the SUV to the house had chilled her enough the first time around.
“We have a flagpole at school. Charlie dared me to stick my tongue on the flagpole, but Jessie told me not to do it, that my tongue would stay stuck to the pole. She said Charlie was trying to trick me. He even double dared me. I was afraid to try, but I don’t like being called chicken. I try not to be afraid of anything.”
Megan couldn’t help but laugh, remembering another little girl who didn’t believe it was true. Must be part of some ritual passed from generation to generation. Dare. Double dare. Double dog dare. She knew the routine all too well.
“It’s absolutely true. Unfortunately, when I was your age, I didn’t believe it, and I did it anyway, even though I was warned. Worst thing ever. My tongue stayed stuck for almost ten minutes before the other kids stopped laughing long enough to get help. They had to use hot water and a washcloth to get my tongue off the pole. It hurt for days, and it was hard to eat. I can laugh about it now, but trust me, I wasn’t laughing then.”
Becca giggled. “I’m glad I didn’t do it.”
“You were very smart. Always remember that even if you’re dared to do something, you always have the right to say no. Being dared is never a good reason to do anything, especially not something you’re unsure of. Sometimes it’s better to ask a grown-up first, just to be on the safe side. You should ask yourself, if it’s a good idea, why do you have to be dared in the first place?”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Becca was deep in thought as Megan wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Her daughter was a smart girl, and Megan was proud of her for making the right choice all on her own.
A loud crashing noise startled them, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through Megan. Her daughter screamed, the sound sending chills down Megan’s spine. Instinctively, Megan pushed Becca behind her, going into defense mode to shield her daughter from danger. Megan turned to discover the source of the sound and was stunned to see a man, his gaze shooting daggers at her. The logs at his feet explained the crashing sound, but not the man himself.
“I don’t know who you think you are, or why you’re here, but you don’t belong here.” The man’s steely voice grated on her nerves. If looks were anything to go by, the man wasn’t an ogre, nor did he set off any alarm bells in her internal radar, something she’d learned to trust over the years. But the haunted look on his face, as well as his words, had managed to catch her off guard.
Her sister hadn’t said anything about bringing a friend, which left the question, just who was this guy? “There must be some mistake. I’m Megan Langley. My sister and I rented this place for the week. I assume you’re the property manager.” He looked the part, dressed in jeans and a leather bomber jacket, clean-cut, and delivering wood.
“Impossible.” He ran a hand through his sandy-blond hair, his brow furrowed.
“Not impossible.” His attitude and presence strained her good mood, keeping her on the defensive. “Look, mister, I’m not sure what you’re doing here, but if you’re not the property manager, you need to leave.”
Megan took a few steps toward the couch and retrieved her jacket to fish the confirmation letter out of the pocket where she’d stuffed it after unlocking the door. “Becca, stay put.” She shot her daughter a warning glance, letting her know she expected her to listen.
Unfolding the letter, Megan walked directly up to the man, who still hadn’t moved an inch from the doorway of what she could only presume led to the kitchen. She held up the document in her hand for his inspection. “I have a confirmation letter.”
If anything, the strained look on his face intensified. “Impossible.”
“You keep saying that, but this is proof.” Megan wasn’t backing down. His attitude was wearing thin on her already frazzled nerves.
The man walked over to the front door where a coat tree stood, one she hadn’t noticed on her way into the house. He retrieved a paper from the pocket of the suit coat hanging there. Without a word, he unfolded it and walked back toward her.
Megan had a bad feeling. The man seemed so assured of himself.
He handed her the letter. “My letter. Notice the date.”
“Impossible.” The word slipped out, echoing the man’s own sentiment. “There must be some mix-up, some explanation. This much I do know, we are not leaving.”
What happens next?
Don’t wait to find out…
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Read the prologue of MOMMY LOVES THE PRINCIPAL, book 1 of MOMMY’S LITTLE MATCHMAKERS…
Molly Romano kicked the back of her Hush Puppies against the leg of the swivel chair. She’d chosen to sit in the grown-up chairs at the Principal’s desk rather than at the small table with the bright orange and red chairs that had the cutouts in the back. She’d never understood why elementary school chairs had the cutouts in the backs? Did teachers think kids needed the ventilation at their backs and bottoms?
From her perch, she looked around the inner sanctum of the leader of her newest school. It was her fourth school in six years. That is if you count kindergarten. This would be her third principal’s office visit in that time.
On the walls were, of course, pictures of the man in charge surrounded by kids. Like all the other pictures on the other principals’ walls, this one was dressed in a clean white shirt. He had graying hair, but a young face. A very young face. Just looking at his face, Molly would’ve guessed this man was her mom’s age.
Another difference that this principal had over the other two was the kids around him. They were actually grinning, not smiling as though they were being forced. The kids looked like they were having a good time. A few of them were looking up at the principal as though they even liked him.
On the desk was also a gold placard that proudly displayed the words Principal. There was an emphasis on the end of the word as PAL in red, capital letters. Molly supposed it was to indicate that the man wanted to be friends with the kids.
There was also a picture of the same man dressed as Santa. Molly was old enough to know that Santa didn’t exist. Her father had told her so when she was five despite her mother’s protests. He did tell her that reindeer were real but didn’t fly. Rabbits didn’t lay eggs. There was also no Tooth Fairy.
He’d promised there were no monsters in her closet. But she wasn’t so sure about that one. She was sure there hadn’t been any in her old home which had been an apartment. On the other side of the closet had been her parents’ bedroom. She’d heard them arguing loud enough to scare away any potential closet monsters.
She now lived in an old house with two levels and a big backyard. She wasn’t sure what was on the other side of her new closet. It was quiet in her grandparents’ old house. All so very quiet.
Molly hated it.
A knock sounded on the other side of the door. Molly wondered if she should say come in? But there was no need. The door swung open and in the frame stood the man that was in the picture frames.
“Good afternoon, Molly.”
His smile was big and bright. Molly
was instantly suspicious. Instead of greeting him the way she was taught by her mother -with manners- she stared mutely; the way she’d observed her father do.
“My name is Principal Kidd.”
He stuck out his hand. She was already in enough trouble, she decided to show she did have some manners. She shook his hand. But lightly, and not firmly like her grandpa had taught her.
“I hear you’ve been causing a bit of mischief in your class,” Principal Kidd said as he took his seat.
Molly shrugged. “It was just a joke.”
“Mrs. Steen didn’t think so. She didn’t think glitter on the whiteboard eraser was a laughing matter.”
“I still say that it could’ve been a fairy come to brighten her dull lesson.”
And that tall tale would’ve stuck. But the whole class had told on her. Every single head had turned to her, many fingers pointed, her name came out of the mouth of each kid in the classroom. What kind of kids didn’t appreciate a joke played on the teacher? Especially a lemon-pinched mouth, something-smells-bad nosed, beady-eyes-peering-over glasses teacher like Mrs. Steen.
Since she’d been here the last two weeks, not a single person had missed a homework assignment. Every hand went up when the teacher asked a question. Molly was sure she was in the Upside Down version of schools and Mrs. Steen was a Demogorgon sucking the spirit out of these kids.
But the principal didn’t try to abduct her into another realm. He leaned back in his own adult-sized swivel chair and chuckled softly. It wasn’t a monstrous, big belly laugh. He didn’t flash sharp teeth. It was almost a giggle, like when she and her mother used to have tickle wars.
“Mrs. Steen said that the other day you erased the numbers on her ruler?”
“We were talking about world leaders. I was trying to participate in the lesson with a utilitarian ruler.”