Maggie Shayne - An Enchanted Season

“That’s incredibly special.”

“My mother sold it, along with all his things, to a secondhand shop so she could use the money to buy us kids Christmas presents.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah. It was just a stupid hat. But it meant something to me. I don’t even remember what she bought me that year. Just that the hat was gone, and we couldn’t get it back. And it got to me. I guess I resented Christmas over that, as much as anything else.”

“I don’t blame you. It must have been like losing that one last little piece of him.”

She felt him nod. “That’s exactly what it was like.” He hugged her a little tighter. “Maybe it would have been easier if I believed…like you do. If he’d—I don’t know—talked to me or showed up in a dream or sent me some kind of unmistakable sign, you know? But to me, it was like he was just gone. Just…gone.”

“But he’s not.”

“See, that’s where we’re different. I don’t really believe that.”

“You’re the kind of man who has to see things, touch them, to believe them,” she said. “But I know your dad’s not gone. I’ve been there, don’t forget. And I’ll bet he has sent you signs—you’re just not seeing them. Because you’re not looking for them. And you’re not looking for them because you don’t believe they exist. You think seeing is believing. But I know you have to believe first. Then you start to see.”

He lifted his head and looked down at her. She met his eyes and smiled softly. He said, “I like you, Holly. In spite of myself, I think. But um…this—”

“Isn’t going anywhere,” she finished for him. “Because it’s impossible. Because you have to go back to your life in Detroit, and I have to go back to my aunt in Binghamton. And because of a thousand other reasons. We don’t have to go there tonight, though, do we? Let’s just enjoy this for what it is, and not worry about what it isn’t. That’s what we both said we would do, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“So can I tell you something before we go to sleep?”

“Sure.”

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

His smile was instant and full, and she thought, pretty damn self-satisfied. But he didn’t return the compliment. He was probably afraid to, afraid she’d read too much into it if he did. But she wasn’t going to put up with that. She jabbed him in the ribs a little. “You’re supposed to say it was good for you, too, you know.”

He snuggled down beside her. “It—”

His words were interrupted by the roar of a motor, and then a horrible crash and the sound of crunching metal. They both sat up in bed, stunned into immobility for just a second. Then they were scrambling for their clothes, lighting lamps. She ran to the window and looked out to see headlights, and the outline of a flatbed truck at a cockeyed angle off the side of the road, its nose crushed against a tree. The back of it was loaded with something, and covered in a white tarp.

“Oh, no.”

Matthew was pulling on his boots, then his coat. “I’ll see if the driver’s okay.”

“I’ll grab the first aid kit and be right out,” she told him, rushing for her own boots as he headed out the door. “God, who would try to drive in this?”

MATTHEW WAS WORRIED, AND TO BE HONEST, DAMN GLADof the distraction, as he tromped through a good two feet of snow toward the wreck. Maybe the driver would be unharmed and would shack up with the two of them for the remainder of the storm. Maybe having a third party there would keep him from making any more asinine blunders like the one he’d made tonight.

Sure, Holly said it didn’t have to mean anything. But he’d never met a woman yet who could have sex and not want it to mean something. And yeah, she was different from any woman he’d ever met before. But at the core, women were women.

And she had some kind of effect on him. Because damn, he had never had sex that good. And he never ever talked about that stupid hat. At least he never had, until tonight.

He hoped the driver was okay. And he hoped the guy would stay for a while.

As he neared the truck, the driver’s door opened, and a man clambered out.

“Hey, are you okay?” Matthew called.

“Yeah, fine, fine.” The man walked toward him, shaking his head. “I really thought I could make it through. Should have known better, but hell, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

As he spoke, he zipped up his parka, pulled up the hood, turned to look in the direction he’d been driving. “Well, it’s only another half mile. My place is just around the next bend in the road. Guess I’m hoofing it from here.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Damn straight I’m serious. I’ve got a wife and kids waiting on me.”

“Look, at least wait until daylight. It can’t be more than an hour away,” Matthew said. “If another vehicle comes along, you could end up dead.”

“Matthew’s right,” Holly called. Matt turned to see her hurrying closer, all bundled up from head to toe, her first aid kit in one hand. “Come into the house. We’ve got a warm fire. I’ll make you some hot cocoa, and when it gets light, you can be on your way.”

He rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. I was due in hours ago. She’s gonna be worried.”

“Can you call? We have cell phones,” Holly said.

“I have one, too. Home phones are out, I imagine. I couldn’t get through.” He shook his head. “Nope, I’ve got to go. Like I said, it’s not far now. Too bad about the load, but it’s pretty late to sell ’em now anyway. Still, one of ’em will go to good use.”

He walked around to the back of the truck, untied the canvas, and flipped it back. Matthew smelled pine. And when the driver pulled a Christmas tree, all neatly bundled for travel, off the truck’s bed, he just shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Well, I got a deal on ’em, you see. There’s only a dozen. Lots of folks wait till Christmas Eve to get their trees, so I figured I could turn ’em around for a few dollars’ profit.” He eyed the nose of his truck. “Looks like they ended up costing me more than I thought.” He loosened a string from the tree’s bundled wrappings, used it to make a tow line with which to drag the tree home. A half mile through a blizzard.

“Hey, you folks have a tree yet?”

Holly smiled. “I think we do now,” she said.

“Help yourself. Merry Christmas.” The man turned and walked away, pulling the tree behind him.

Matthew watched him go. Then he heard Holly mutter, “Thanks, Mom.”

He turned to look at her, and then at the truck full of trees, and then at her again. Her smile was as wide and bright as…hell, as a kid’s on Christmas morning. “I told you. First, you have to believe.” She ran through the snow, toward the truck, calling, “Come on, Matthew. Let’s pick the best tree of the bunch!”

Sheila hadn’t wanted to take the hat from Bernie, but sensed it was important to him, to his sense of pride. And besides, it was just exactly what Holly needed. She’d only just reenrolled in school, and landed a role in the holiday play. She was playing a hobo, and this hat was the one missing piece her costume still needed.

So Sheila gave the hat to Holly. And Holly fell in love with it. Maybe, somehow, she felt its magic. At any rate, she never went away from home without it. She even took it with her on that fateful trip back to her childhood home, twelve years later.

BY THE TIME THE SUN CAME UP, THE TREE WAS STANDING INthe living room in a makeshift tree stand Matthew had constructed from an old pail he’d found in the basement, and was held in place by a few yards of twine.