TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
St. Claws—Alan Nayes
Snow Whisperers—Lizzy Ford
Saving Grace—Julia Crane
O Christmas Cactus, O Christmas Cactus—M. Edward McNally
Fred’s Best Christmas—P.J. Jones
Fresh Snow—Talia Jager
Let’s Ride—Shéa Macleod
A Very Shero Christmas—Jack Wallen
The Darkest Night—Heather Marie Adkins
About the Indie Eclective
The Holiday Collection
by
The Indie Eclective
Copyright © 2011 by The Indie Eclective
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.
The nine authors in this collection retain and hold their individual respective rights to their stories.
Cover Art by Jack Wallen
St. Claws
Alan Nayes
Matt Haskel glanced at the sheet of paper filled with one line fortunes. Today buy a gift. You will find a lucky wreath. Listen to the reindeer outside your window.
“Where’d Gino find this clown?” he mumbled to himself. Impatiently, he read the remaining fortunes and pushed the sheet aside. For some reason, the last one seemed to crawl under his skin. When the elves come to your home, let them in.
“Suwyn,” he called toward the open door. His office was directly upstairs from the plant where FAR WEST FORTUNE COOKIES were manufactured. He waited a moment and shouted louder. “Suwyn.” The man had been hired a few weeks ago and was supposed to be only a consultant—at least that’s what Gino Pellete, the owner, had told him.
When no one appeared, Matt rose. He took a step toward the plant entrance just as a thin Asian rushed into his office.
The shorter man bowed. “Yes sir?” he said deferentially.
Matt motioned him in. “Suwyn, sit, please.” He returned to his desk and waited for the consultant to take a chair. The man remained standing.
“Sit. We have to talk.”
“I stand.”
“Whatever.” Matt slipped the paper in front of him. “Suwyn, what are these?”
“Fortunes.”
“Fortunes? ‘Buy a gift’, ‘lucky wreaths’, ‘reindeer’? Where is the material I’ve been writing—people want to read about the stock market, winning the lottery, hell, getting laid.” Did the Asian just blush? Matt shook his head.
Suwyn grinned. “Mine poplar in China.”
“We aren’t in China.” Matt lifted the paper, wincing. Heck, the man couldn’t even speak proper English. “Elves?”
“It Christmas time soon, Mr. Matt.”
Matt almost said I don’t give a flip about Christmas, but held his tongue. He forced a smile. “Suwyn, FAR WEST ships our product all over the world. We need fortunes that will be relevant well into the new year—not just during the holidays. Our shelf life is nine months. Wreaths, elves?”
The Asian just stood there with that big grin. Momentarily, Matt sensed he was being laughed at. “Just leave, I’ll write another batch,” he said quickly, before he became angry.
Suwyn bowed and said, “They good, yes, Mr. Matt?”
And this was Mr. Pellete’s consultant? Matt nodded weakly. “I’ll take care of the one-liners for this shipment.”
The Asian bowed and then stepped out.
Matt crumpled up the paper, then tossed the discarded fortunes in the trash can with a nice hook shot just as the interplant phone buzzed. He noted the blinking light. Now what did the boss want?
He punched the button. “Hi, Mr. Pellete.”
“Matt, I need to have a word with you.”
“Sir, I’m having a little issue with that new consultant—”
“That can wait.”
Suddenly, Matt didn’t like the boss’s tone. “You mean now, Sir?”
“Now.”
* * *
Matt sat sullenly in his cramped apartment living room watching the reruns from last weekend’s football games. How could December go to shit so fast? One day he’s running the design and shipping department of an up and coming southern California confectionary company and the next he’s home sulking in front of his computer creating resumes and sending them out by the boatload. He sipped some more of the beer—his fourth of the day and it wasn’t even mid-afternoon yet. Things weren’t looking good. No job, holiday bills threatening to inundate the Haskel household, and the biggest blow—his and Jenny’s loan application had been rejected once the bank discovered he’d joined the ranks of the unemployed. Happy holidays, bro. His eyes glazed over while ESPN broke for a commercial. “No,” Matt moaned. Of all things, some teenage X Games star was demonstrating the SuperScooter. That’s all Billy, his eight year old, had been talking about for the last year. Price tag—a measly five hundred bills. In frustration, he muted the volume. The silence only brought back the conversation as he called it. Four weeks had done nothing to mitigate the sense of despair and self-loathing.
“Matt,” Gino had said. “Suwyn’s company has made a bid for FAR WEST FORTUNE COOKIES.”
“You got to be kidding, Mr. Pellete.”
But Mr. Pellete had been deadly serious. Because it was nearing Christmas, the Chinese company had made a very generous holiday offer—as the Chinese execs had phrased it—and Gino Pellete had accepted. Of all the irony, Suwyn—who couldn’t pen an American cookie fortune if his future depended on it—had issued Matt his walking papers. “Merry holidays,” he’d wished. Matt gulped the remainder of the beer down. He couldn’t resist pondering if he’d spent more time at work and less with his family, maybe they would have thought him more valuable and kept him on. Yeah, Suwyn, thanks a lot. Timing couldn’t have been worse. Ever try finding a decent job around the holidays? Winning the lottery offered better odds. Four weeks of rejections could take a toll on a guy’s ego, not to mention his bank account. Damn, and Jenny had really loved that new kitchen. At least, she had her part-time waitressing job.
Matt heard a car pull into the drive. Quickly, he shut off the television and tossed the beer can in the waste. He didn’t need Jenny seeing him pining away, watching football reruns and inebriating himself. He plunked down in front of his computer just as the front door opened.
“Daddy.”
Matt looked up feigning surprise as if he’d been working on selling himself all morning. “Heya, sport. Give Daddy a big-boy hug.”
With a burst of energy Matt wished he had, the boy leaped into his lap. “Guess what Mommy and me saw.”
“I.”
“What?”
“Never mind. What did you and Mommy see?” he asked already visualizing the answer in Billy’s face.
“A SuperScooter!”
Matt scrunched up his expression. “A SuperScooter—what’s that?”
“Daddy!” And they began to play wrestle.
“Billy,” a woman’s voice called from the hallway. “Come help Mommy in the kitchen and let Daddy work. Then you need to finish packing.”
The boy looked up into Matt’s face and asked in child-seriousness, “You didn’t really forget, did you, Daddy?”
Matt felt another needle puncture his pride. “No, I didn’t. We’ll see—now go help Mommy,” he finished before being bombarded with any more questions.
“I love Christmas!” Billy screeched and raced into the other room, leaving Matt with a sick feeling in his gut. Five hundred freaking dollars.
He turned back to the computer listing of jobs. A secretary, other clerical positions filled the screen. Let Daddy work. That was a joke. He didn’t realize he was no longer alone until he felt her hand on hi
s shoulder.
“How’s the hunt going?”
Matt just shook his head. “Jen, it’s two days before Christmas. I suppose if I put on fifty pounds I could play Santa somewhere.” He heard a long tired sigh indicating his cynicism had not gone over well and swiveled around to face his wife. Even when she looked somber, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever kissed. Not that there’d been much of that lately. Losing your job, letting a home deal fall through, and not being able to afford the one gift your only child wanted did little for a guy’s confidence. Just get me to the new year, he pleaded silently.
Jenny removed her hand to push a bang of blonde hair off her forehead. “Something will turn up,” she remarked, staring at the monitor. “You all packed? We have a long drive tomorrow.”
Matt reached for her. “Jenny, I’m not really in the mood to go.”
“Matt, we’ve been over this too many times. I’ve already promised my parents we would spend the holidays with them at their condo in Mammoth Lakes. They’re expecting us. We’re going.”
“That’s just fantastic.”
“Please don’t be this way. Billy will love the snow.”
“And I get to listen to your father tell me about how much money his investments are making. Do your parents know I lost my—”
“I haven’t told them. But I know Daddy would lend us some money for a SuperScooter—all I have to do is ask.”
“No.” He reached again for her but she’d already turned away.
* * *
Matt was satisfied to let Jenny and Billy do all the talking while he drove. Every so often he sensed his wife watching him. He wanted to look over and say something witty—hell, being witty came with creating amusing sayings for cookies—but he couldn’t even bring himself to smile. The mood just wasn’t there. Listening to the banter, at least two people in the car were in a festive mood. Jenny laughed at something Billy said and her gleeful response evoked mental images of happier times they’d spent together. Their initial introduction had taken place at a roommate’s Christmas party of all places. Matt wasn’t even going to attend but at the last moment bought a Scrooge mask and showed up. Jenny came as an elf—wow, she’d looked so good in her short green dress, caplet, elf hat and sexy green boots. That had been one of the best evenings of his life. How had things changed so? Well, they had. Working, bills, trying to get a home of their own, Billy—whoa, kids were expensive—and now he’d lost his job and a chance at a new home. How could Jenny not respect him less? And all this crap at Christmas time, too. What he didn’t need was having to listen to the financial success stories of his in-laws. Jenny should have realized this but she didn’t seem to care. She was correct about one thing, though—Billy would love seeing some snow. Matt would just have to concentrate on that.
Matt glanced at his cell phone on the console. After a month, he still half-expected Mr. Pellete to call and beg him to come back—with a fat raise to boot. No such luck and he admonished himself for his foolishness. Just get me through the holidays. That had become his mantra.
He passed the sign to Independence—good, over halfway. One bit of luck had been the weather. A brittle blue sky and no snow forecast, though he’d brought chains just in case.
“Matt.”
He glanced at his wife.
She looked a little perturbed. “You missed the turnoff to Glacier Lodge. I thought that was where we were going to stop for lunch.”
Holy smokes, she was right. “I’ll take the next exit and double back. Sorry.”
“No, let’s keep going. We’ll lose too much time.”
“It’ll be fine, Jen. Look, there’s an exit up ahead.”
“You sure? I don’t want to get lost. I don’t recall the next exit being this close.”
In the back seat, Billy giggled. “Daddy’s going to get lost.”
“Hey, whose side you on, pardner?” Matt asked, though come to think of it, he didn’t recall an exit being here off the 395 either. Not even marked with a sign.
“You and Mommy’s side,” Billy chortled.
“What a politician.” Matt attempted a grin at Jenny but she was too busy looking around her. He slowed and drove off the interstate. The view was fantastic—snow covered peaks, huge Ponderosa pines, and steep verdant ridges that appeared to be decorated with white frosting.
“We’re exploring, Mommy,” Billy declared from the back seat.
“Yes, honey.”
Matt didn’t miss his wife’s undertone of doubt, though. What, she didn’t have faith he could get them back to Glacier Lodge? This he found both unsettling and irritating. He might not be able to hold a job, but at least he could get his wife and son to Jenny’s favorite lunch spot on the drive to Mammoth Lakes. They’d dined at the quaint B&B numerous times before. Simple.
And for about fifteen miles it did seem simple. Though the four-lane condensed to two and the concrete became black top, at least they were moving in the right direction. He noticed Jenny shivering. “Want the heater higher?”
She shook her head. “Maybe we should just go back.”
“We’ll be fine. Glacier Lodge can’t be far.”
“But—”
“Relax, will you?” His irritation must have shown through because Billy asked, “Daddy, are you angry?”
“No,” he said a little sharper than he’d meant and felt Jenny’s cold stare.
The black top led into a series of winding switchbacks and suddenly they were no longer heading toward Glacier Lodge, but away.
“Damn,” he muttered.
“Matt,” Jenny said.
I know, he thought, no cussing in front of Billy. But dammit, he was angry now.
For just an instant, he lost sight of the road when a bright ray of sunshine broke free from the forest canopy. BAMM.
“Shit,” he cursed, feeling the car bounce once roughly.
Alarmed, Jenny grabbed his arm. “What was that?”
“Just a pothole,” he guessed, but he knew something more serious had happened when he felt the car dragging to his left.
“What’s that sound?” Jenny asked.
Matt didn’t answer. GRGRGRGRGR. The rough grating sound continued until he braked. “I’ll look and see.” He saw Jenny reach for her cell phone. “What are you doing?”
“Letting Daddy know we’ll be late.”
“Come on, it’s no big deal.” Matt looked toward his son. Billy was frowning. “You okay, pardner?”
He barely nodded. “I want to see Grandma and Grandpa.”
“We will, son,” Matt said. He heard Jenny’s humph.
She dropped her phone in her lap. “That’s great. No cell phone reception.”
Matt thought it best not to respond immediately. He opened the door, aware of the chill in the air. He figured they’d had a flat—easy enough to remedy—so he walked around the SUV. No flats. When he squatted down to check underneath the vehicle, his heart sunk to his gut. Not this, he winced. The left rear axle was busted and the loose metal edge lay on the asphalt. He stood up, feeling both Jenny’s and his son’s gaze.
“What’s wrong, Matt?” she asked.
“Daddy?”
Matt chose not to look at either one, instead focusing his ire on the nearest ridge. Busted axle in the middle of nowhere on Christmas Eve day. How much more wonderful could this holiday season get? Just frickin’ great.
* * *
“Daddy, I hear bells.”
Matt sat on the hood of the SUV staring at the NO SIGNAL icon on his smart phone. For the last hour both he and Jenny had tried calling, but no luck. Unbelievably, not another vehicle had come by either. Everyone home, and he had his family stuck at five thousand feet in the Sierra Nevadas.
“Stay out of the trees, Billy,” he heard Jenny warn. Then “Matt, Billy’s talking to you.”
Matt shoved the phone down in his jacket. “Yeah, what’s that, son?”
Billy stood at the edge of the woods. “I hear bells.”
&nbs
p; Jenny wandered over by the boy. “I hear them, too. Come over here, Matt. Listen.”
Matt slid off the hood, gazing at the line of ridges. Why the hell hadn’t he listened to Jenny? They’d be almost at Mammoth Lakes by now. Not that he was so eager to get there. Standing beside his wife, he almost reached out and took her hand but thought better of it. Earlier, she’d been fuming but seemed more calm now. Better just let it be. He listened a moment but heard only the wind moving through the evergreens. He noticed isolated patches of snow in the shade.
Both Jenny and Billy watched him.
Matt shook his head. “Only the wind.”
“No, Daddy, I hear them.”
Jenny agreed. “It’s not the wind. I can hear the donging.”
Matt began to argue, but just then the breeze touched his face and he suddenly heard the ding-donging, too. “Weird. Out here in the middle of nowhere. They sound too close for Glacier Lodge.”
“Is there a town nearby?” Jenny asked.
“Besides Glacier Lodge, none that I’m familiar with.”
“There must be, Daddy,” Billy put in his two cents worth. “Sounds like they’re ringing right beyond that hill.”
Jenny agreed. “Matt, maybe they have a mechanic who can fix the car today.”
Matt sensed his exasperation building. “Jenny, it’s Christmas Eve. No one is going to fix a busted axle the day before Christmas.”
That cured any family optimism fast. Matt noticed he’d become quite adept at that lately.
“Matt, you never used to be such a pessimist. You’ve changed.” And Jenny walked back to the SUV.
“Daddy? Is a broken axle bad?” Billy asked, looking very serious.
“We’ll get it fixed. Let’s go wait by the car.”
“If we don’t get to Grandpa’s for Christmas, will Santa still know where I’ll be? I don’t want him leaving my SuperScooter somewhere else.”
Matt pretended he hadn’t heard the SuperScooter comment. That damn toy was like an energy drain on his psyche. Still, five Ben Franklins were just too much. Yet, no way was he going to tell Billy that. And asking Jenny’s parents to buy it, then paying them back when he got another job—not an option. He may be unemployed and lost a deal on a new house, but he still had his pride. Now Matt could see a plume of smoke that wasn’t there earlier. Some household had a nice fire going. And probably no SuperScooter issues either.