Stuck in Christmas (Holiday Magic #1)

Chapter 20

Twenty

This is how I die.

Stuck in the holiday movie from hell.

No recourse.

No help.

And I was fresh out of ducks to give about the situation.

You know I don’t mean ducks, but it’s the best I can do right now.

What’s a gal to do when she’s about to die and out of ducks to give? She throws in the towel and gets in her comfy bathrobe. But the problem with this plan, while you’re staying at an inn, is that you get hungry, which means you get to treat everyone to your hot messery.

I waited until the morning breakfast rush was over at the diner before pushing through the door in my gray bathrobe glory. Don’t even get me started on my hair. That was a rat’s nest that gave up the ghost hours ago.

“Oh, my,” Bonnie said, taking in my appearance. “I thought the weather outside was frightful.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on me. “Tell me about it,” I whispered, barely holding back the tears.

Bonnie gestured for me to sit, her eyes filled with concern. “Sit, sit. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Before I could respond, the floodgates opened. I burst into tears.

“Oh my goodness,” Bonnie exclaimed, handing me a napkin. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

But I knew it was. “Oh yes, it is,” I choked out. “I think I’m going to die today.”

Bonnie gasped, clutching her 12 Drummers Drumming pin like a lifeline. “Die?”

“Or cease to exist. I’m not really sure.” My voice trembled, the hopelessness swirling inside me.

She looked perplexed. “You’re not making any sense, dear. Start at the beginning.”

I wiped my eyes and tried to compose myself. “Santa cursed me to re-live the same day over and over until I learn a lesson.” It sounded ludicrous, even to me.

“At first, I thought it was a dream. My friend Sherry loves those holiday romance movies, and I figured if I could just navigate through those moments, I’d wake up. But then Santa made it clear this was no dream—it was real. The only way I would get to move forward was to learn my lesson before the 12th Day of Christmas.”

Bonnie frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall. “But it’s only Christmas Eve.”

My heart raced as I realized the implication. “The 12th Day of Christmas brooch. Your pin.”

Bonnie reached up to touch it, confusion etched on her face. “This old thing? It was a gift?—”

“From Joe on your 12th Christmas together,” I finished, feeling a pang in my chest. I could almost hear the echoes of those memories. “Somehow, your Christmas pin collection reminds me how many chances I have left.”

“So you have 12 chances?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Had. This is my 12th chance, and I can’t screw it up because there is no 13th Day of Christmas.”

Bonnie regarded me with a serious expression. “That does sound serious. What do you think the lesson is?”

“I thought it was about the meaning of Christmas,” I said, my voice trailing off. “I hadn’t celebrated since my mom died. I forced myself to participate in everything—the cookies, the sledding, the gingerbread competition—and I enjoyed it all. But it wasn’t the meaning of Christmas. So what lesson is it? I’m too stupid to figure this out.” My frustration bubbled to the surface, and I felt the tears threaten to spill again.

“Well, that’s not true,” Bonnie exclaimed.

It felt true that much I knew.

Bonnie looked at me with a glint of determination in her eyes. “You worked for years as an investigative journalist. You could find the dirt on anyone, which means you’re smart and know where to find clues others can’t. What if you applied those skills to this problem?”

I sniffled, then grabbed a napkin to blow my nose, thinking about what she said. I nodded slowly. “Might work.”

With a flourish, Bonnie pulled an order pad from her apron and handed it along with a pen to me. “Here’s a pad and pen to write things down. Now, what do you know for sure?”

I took a deep breath, the weight of my situation pressing down on me. “I know I’m stuck in Christmas, Mississippi, until I learn a lesson. I can’t drive or walk out of the town square by myself. Every time I try, I end up right back in the same spot.”

Bonnie’s brow furrowed. “You haven’t been able to leave this whole time?”

I hesitated. “Well… I can leave with Eli.”

“Eli,” she repeated, her tone shifting to something more serious. “That’s important.”

“Yes. Eli can drive us out of here. And we can walk past the town square limits together.”

“Then why not tell him all this?” Bonnie asked, leaning in.

I bit my lip, recalling the frustration of trying to tell him. “I tried once, and he didn’t believe me. The second time? Santa wouldn’t let me. He said I had to learn this lesson myself.” I scribbled a note on the pad, the ink feeling heavy against the paper.

“What else has Santa said to you?” Bonnie pressed.

“He said I couldn’t be half-hearted in this lesson. I had to go ‘all in’ and be one hundred percent.”

Her eyes lit up. “That reminds me of something Joe’s grandfather told us right before we married.”

“About the pendulum?” I recalled the old story.

“Exactly. Wow, you’ve been here a while.” She smiled, and I felt something lighter in my chest. “But it sounds like all these are encouraging clues, so where does it go wrong?”

“I’m always with Eli. We’re having a great time, and then, things just sort of re-set. I trip, fall, or get hit by snow, and suddenly, I’m right back in that snowbank out front.”

“Things just re-set,” Bonnie echoed.

“Yes.”

“What is the catalyst for the re-set?” she asked.

I could only frown in response. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you, though?”

“I don't.” Frustration bubbled up inside me.

“Okay, then walk me through it. Besides Santa giving you a re-set, what were you doing before the latest one?”

“Talking to Eli about relationships.”

“What was the conversation about—exactly?”

I recalled the moment vividly. “He said watching you and Joe work at your marriage every day set the bar pretty high. He realized true love was worth the wait.”

“It is,” Bonnie agreed, her voice warm. “What else do you remember before the re-sets?”

I hesitated, remembering the Christmas Tree farm. “There was that time when he leaned in to kiss me?—”

Bonnie clasped her hands together, excitement sparking in her eyes. “Ooh! How was it?”

“The kiss?” I faltered as I remembered all the definitely not naughty thoughts that went through my head.

“Yes,” she urged.

“It wasn’t,” I said, the bitterness of the memory biting back. “I turned away and fell, resetting the day.”

“Oh dear. ”

“And there was that time sledding,” I added, dread pooling in my stomach.

“And?” Bonnie pressed, her enthusiasm unwavering.

I shook my head.

“I think I’m seeing a pattern,” she mused.

“Every time I’ve pulled away from him, the day resets,” I admitted, my voice low.

“Great. Now we know what’s happening for the reset to happen, but do we know why it’s happening?”

“I don’t follow,” I replied, confusion swirling in my mind.

“I don’t think it’s enough not to pull away. You must ask yourself: why are you pulling away in the first place?”

“I don’t know.”

“You sure about that? I think this is the lesson you’re supposed to learn.”

“This is ridiculous. I don’t know ,” I shouted, the tension coiling tightly in my chest. “All of this is making my head hurt. I’m going back to bed.”

“Tell you what,” Bonnie said, her voice soothing, “I’ll send up some biscuits, tea, and aspirin in a few minutes. Why don’t you go lay down?”

I turned to head upstairs, the prospect of hot biscuits and a warm bed sounding all too appealing. “Good idea,” I murmured.