Christmas Eve Love Story

Thirty-Two

On Christmas Day

Braden stretched out his arms, folding them behind his head on his pillow. Christmas Day, great! He had the whole day off and had somewhere important to be: with his mom. He’d slept in his undershirt and sweatpants. All comfy-cozy for a cold winter’s night, during which it had been snowing buckets.

He sat up, feeling groggier than he should be. He’d only had two beers last night. It wasn’t like he’d been on a bender. Not that Braden did “benders.” He didn’t. He prided himself on remaining in charge of himself and his situations—except for on those rare occasions when the fates blew him sideways.

His duty belt lay on his dresser, and his holster was empty. He recalled locking his firearm and mag pouches away in his personal safe. Good. He’d obviously been thinking clearly when he’d turned in. It was the entire day beforehand that grew fuzzy. Faint light crept into the room, stealing in through beneath the lowered shade. An image of him helping a pretty brunette fix her window display flitted back to him. Annie? Right. Annie Jones. The Assistant Visual Artist at Lawson’s Finest. He’d helped her pick up when those kids trashed her window.

A boy’s cries echoed in his ears. No, Dylan! Let me! Braden massaged his tight temples, recalling the bad scene those kids had caused. The store Santa had seemed to take it in stride and had issued them a gentle warning. Braden ran a hand through his mussed-up hair. He couldn’t say exactly how that Santa was different. He just was.

So was Annie Jones. She seemed sparkly and effervescent, like the brightest, bubbly prosecco. Special in her own unique way. Still. Braden frowned. When he’d asked her out for coffee, she’d summarily shot him down. So that, as they say, was that. No matter what he’d thought about their flirty “do you believe in Santa” exchange, she clearly wasn’t interested in him romantically. She probably had a boyfriend anyway. The name Leo tugged at the recesses of his brain. Yeah, likely him.

Who calls their kid Leo these days?

Maybe somebody Italian. A couple of famous Leonardos came to mind, and Braden sighed. Annie was so out of his league. Why had he even tried? His gut tightened as the bomb blast went off in his head. Braden pressed his palms to his temples, breathing hard. No, those were his demons talking. He was totally worthy of Annie. No fault of his that she was already taken, or he simply wasn’t her type.

Braden got out of bed and strode to the window, rolling up the shade. Snow slashed against the window, and the wind howled wildly. Whoa. He couldn’t even make out the steps on the fire escape. They were buried in snow, and the visibility was nearly zero. His mind flashed to the sandstorm in Iraq. Blinding gusts of sand whirled around him, stinging his face and arms. Even through his goggles, he’d been unable to see a thing. But no, this was different. He needed to leave what was in the past behind him. Someone really wise had recently told him that, he just couldn’t say who.

***

Braden checked his watch when his phone rang later that morning. Nine o’clock. It was his mom. “Hey, Ma. Merry Christmas!” He sat at his kitchen table nursing his morning coffee. His apartment was pretty bare-bones and not decorated much. Although he had hung a plastic Christmas wreath on his front door, mostly because his mom had given it to him as a present.

“Merry Christmas, hon.” She paused. “I suppose you’ve heard about the subway. It’s probably for the best that everything’s shut down. Safety first.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at his ballistic vest hanging over the back of a kitchen chair. He’d left it there last night after he’d removed his uniform shirt, stripping down to his undershirt and trousers. That was weird. It looked like it had a coffee stain on it. Wait. Two coffee stains? When did those happen? He didn’t recall any mishaps like that. Luckily, while the body armor was regulation, he’d never had an occasion to need it at Lawson’s. Braden set down his mug, returning to his conversation with his mom about the weather. “Doesn’t mean I won’t be there though.”

“What? No, Braden. I don’t want you to—”

“But I want to. Besides”—he put on a teasing lilt—“Santa left you a present over here that I said I’d deliver.”

“That’s very sweet, but there’s no way for you to get here.”

He scoffed teasingly. “What’s wrong with my two feet?”

“Braden.”

“I’ve got lots of cold-weather gear, Ma. I’m sure I can make it. It just might take me a little longer to get there.”

“You’ll get frostbite!”

“No, I won’t.”

“Or get sick!”

He stretched his legs out under the table. “That’s a negative.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m hardy,” he joked. “My mama raised me tough.”

She laughed. “Your mama raised you stubborn.”

He took a swig of coffee. “That too.”

He could almost see her shaking her head. “I can tell you’re set on this.”

Braden put down his coffee. “I am.”

She clicked her tongue. “Fine. Be careful then.”

“Ten-four, chief.”

She chuckled and asked him, “Have you heard from your sisters?”

“I have.” He smiled fondly. “You?”

“Very early. The grandkids got everyone up. So excited. I can’t wait to see them all shortly, when I visit after Christmas.” She paused a beat. “I wish you could come too.”

“I know, but”—he shrugged—“work.”

“You work too hard.”

He laughed. “I could say the same of you.”

“Fair. What time will you be over tomorrow?”

“What time’s dinner?”

“Whenever you get here.”

Braden ended the call and placed his phone on the table, but then he picked it back up, scanning through his contacts. Weird. Now why would I think I had Annie’s number in there? Braden shook his head. If she’d declined his offer of coffee, she definitely wouldn’t have given him her number. Maybe he’d dreamed it.

He stared at his ballistic vest and the uniform shirt draping over it on the back of a kitchen chair. He needed to tidy up a bit and get ready to head over to his mom’s. He stood and washed out his coffee mug, leaving it in the drying rack by the sink before strolling into the living room and nabbing his uniform jacket off the desk chair positioned near the radiator. He patted down the jacket, noting it had dried nicely overnight. He shook it out to hang in his closet, and something slipped from an inside pocket, fluttering to the floor. It looked like a paper napkin. He picked it up and flipped it over to the writing on the other side.

Handwriting. My handwriting. Braden’s heart hammered. “Believe Annie?” What on earth does that mean? The only Annie he knew was Annie Jones at Lawson’s Finest. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember writing that down, and why on a napkin? Believe Annie —about what? He had no idea.

They’d met when she’d dropped her lip gloss, then he’d seen her later the salesfloor, right before those rascally kids trashed her window. He’d helped her pick up, and they’d added tinsel to the tree—at the store Santa’s suggestion. She’d had a brainstorm about including all this other Christmassy stuff. Somewhere in the middle of all that action, Veronica Lawson dropped by to disapprove of— No, wait. Compliment? —Annie’s window. These conflicting images made no sense.

He did have a sense about Annie though, a sense that she was a really special person. He stared at the napkin in his hand. But this napkin thing was bizarre. Something must have happened. Some tiny detail he didn’t recall, but that wasn’t like him to miss things. If he thought on it hard enough, maybe it would come back to him.

***

Annie opened her eyes, greeted by an eerie calm and the faint sound of the wind whistling outside. She snatched her cell phone off her nightstand, holding it up above her head.

Dec 25

Winter Storm Warning

Yes, yes, and yes! Annie squealed and kicked her heels under the covers, disturbing Leo. He spilled onto the floor with a sleepy yawn. “Oh! Sorry, Leo.”

A weather advisory flashed across the screen. Steady accumulation and high winds expected. Public transportation had shut down. No one was going anywhere today. She set her cell phone on her nightstand and tossed back the covers, peering down at the floor, but Leo’s wand toy was on her dresser where she’d placed it yesterday. Her heart thumped. Was this really happening? Had she broken through to Christmas Day?

Annie raced to her window and yanked up the blinds.

Woo-hoo!

The world was a winter wonderland, the rungs of her fire escape buried deep. Snow pummeled the metal platform, sending big bursts of flurries up against the glass. “Leo,” she gasped as he wandered over to circle her ankles, “we made it.” He peered up at her, and she scooped him into her arms, cradling him like a baby. “Yes, yes. I know you’re hungry.” She nuzzled her nose against his. “And, you know what? So am I.” If this was really Christmas, she couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into one of those cinnamon rolls she’d saved for this morning.

Annie carried Leo toward the hall and shut her eyes, almost afraid to peek at the living room. But finally, she did. Leo’s kitty stocking was full! “Oh my gosh!” She scuttled over to it, holding Leo. She turned him to face his stocking. “Look what Santa brought you, boy.” He appeared unimpressed, meowing and squirming instead.

She set him down on the floor. “Yeah, yeah,” she said sweetly. “Breakfast first.”

Annie plugged in her Christmas tree lights, and they cast a colorful sheen on her pretty snow globe. She picked it up and held it against her heart. She stared at the ceiling and beyond that up to the heavens. “Thank you.” She lifted the snow globe and smiled at the tiny Santa inside with his reindeer team. “And thanks to you too, Santa,” she said lightly. She returned the snow globe to its spot beneath the tree. Believe. Yes, right. What she wanted to believe was that all the cooking she’d done last night hadn’t been in vain. She stared at the candy canes on her tree and counted. Only ten. Woot! That had to mean she’d invited Bea in for cocoa and had given her one. There’d been no morning coffee with Jane yesterday.

Annie dashed into the kitchen with Leo following her. The countertop was loaded with goodies. A covered tray of cinnamon rolls, a fresh pumpkin pie, canned cranberry sauce, a few bags of stuffing. Annie’s pulse raced as she darted to the refrigerator, yanking the door open. A fresh ten-pound turkey sat on the top shelf. “Yes!” she shouted out loud. “Woo-hoo!” There were other items in her fridge too, like the green bean casserole she’d prepared along with the corn pudding, and a small container of chili she’d reserved for herself after taking a pot of it to Harrington and having Bea to dinner. Annie shut the refrigerator door, smiling at the photo of Tina. “I have sooo much to tell you. You’ll never believe it.”

Leo mewed at her heels.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll feed you.”

That was awfully familiar. Panic gripped her. But no, she said that every day. Annie spied her open laptop on the kitchen table beside a pretty vase of grocery store flowers, and— yes —two empty hot cocoa mugs rested in her sink, the telltale red smudges from melted candy canes marring their insides. She prepared Leo’s cat food on the counter, gingerly placing his dish on the floor. He dug into his food as the sweet scent of cinnamon rolls filled the air. She was definitely having one. Possibly two, if she felt like it. It was Christmas, hey! At last.

She fixed her pour-over coffee and grinned at Leo, still devouring his food. “Guess who got promoted?” Had that really happened? She hoped so. She carried her coffee to her kitchen table and sat, turning her laptop toward her to check her email. There it was—in her inbox! A new message from Patrice Winston, Promotion Memo . Annie scanned the brief note.

Due to your exemplary contributions at Lawson’s Finest, we are pleased to promote you to Lead Visual Artist with an effective start date of January 1. Please report to HR when the store reopens after Christmas to complete any necessary paperwork. Congratulations on a job well done. We look forward to your continued service at Lawson’s.

All best,

Patrice

Annie fist-pumped in the air. Yes!

She stared at her intercom and waited, her heart pounding so loud she could almost count the beats. But the buzzer remained silent. Naturally. The roads were pretty much impassible today, so there’d probably be no deliveries. Annie glanced down at her slippers and smirked. “So much for those new snow boots.” Ah, well. Maybe they’d come after Christmas, once the storm had cleared.

She leaned back in her chair and sipped her coffee, her heart happy. She was hosting Christmas dinner today for everyone in her building. She hoped Lawson’s store Santa was okay and settled in someplace safe out of the elements. But what about Braden? Would he make it to his mom’s? That would be a challenge in this storm, but she knew he’d try. He was a good man, and a caring person. After a while, she’d begun to believe he’d started caring for her. Then the note she’d found on his phone had confirmed it.

She shouldn’t have become upset with him about not being able to make promises. He’d been just as stymied by the time loop as she had, and uncertain about how they’d wind up. And still. He’d been so tender and caring, supporting her through each do-over day. Her pulse hummed at the memory of his goodbye kiss. Did he recall that at all? She frowned. Doubtful.

But maybe he remembered something—at least their first Christmas Eve together. They’d gotten along really well then, and he’d invited her out for coffee. Even though she’d said no at first, that gesture gave her something to work with—and hopefully build on. Time would tell. And now time was moving forward. Thank goodness. She peered at the time on her laptop: 9:07 a.m. She’d slept in, just like she’d wanted, and now she needed to get busy preparing her turkey to pop in the oven.

Annie took another quick sip of coffee and set down her mug. “What do you say, Leo?” He sat back on his haunches and licked his chops, having thoroughly enjoyed his meal. “Ready to see what Santa brought you?” She’d give him a few toys to keep him busy so she could get to work stuffing that bird. But first! She was serving herself a cinnamon roll to take with her into the living room. Yum.

Once she’d put the bird in the oven, Annie showered and dressed. She browsed through the offerings in her closet, noting the snowman-patterned turtleneck and her winter white stretch pants in her hamper. Thank God. She blew out a breath and began whistling brightly. It was a Christmas tune, the same one her snow globe played. “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” Annie grinned to herself. Yeah, it is.

Ah-ha! She found the item she was looking for: a pretty red cowl-neck sweater. She’d pair it with black leggings and black flats. She felt so festive, she wanted to dress up a bit for the holiday. No holly wreath pin today though. That might damage her sweater. But she did have some fun reindeer earrings she could wear.

She twisted her hair into a French knot and held it up behind her, peering at her reflection in her dresser mirror. Maybe for a change, she’d wear her hair up. She considered her many interactions with Braden, wondering what he would think of the look. Also wondering what he was doing at the moment, and whether he was thinking about her. Hoping he remembered her somewhat and hadn’t totally wiped all memories of her just as cleanly as she’d erased her contact information from his phone. Darn it.

But no. Maybe that act was part of what helped her get here to the other side of Christmas Eve. If you love something, let it go… But she didn’t love Braden, she really didn’t. Santa’s words came back to her. Not yet. Annie sighed, but soon happiness filled her heart. It was finally Christmas, and she had plenty to be grateful for.