‘Twas the Love Before Christmas

10. Noah

Chapter ten

Noah

I turned around to see who hit Catherine with the snowball. Instead of finding a lone troublemaking kid getting ready to throw another snowball, I saw a group of teens at the side of the road. A large field rose behind them —in my troublemaking years, I would have been sledding down that slope, but these kids were ready for a snowball fight.

“Looks like there’s going to be a large snowball fight, and the first one went astray,” I said as I pointed toward the field.

Catherine looked over, but she squatted down instead of yelling at the kids. She quickly packed a snowball, took aim, and threw it back at the group. It hit one of them square in the chest.

“We’re going to join. Come on,” Catherine said as she grabbed my hand and dragged me onto the field.

I couldn’t help but laugh. These kids were all about high school age, some of whom I recognized, so they had the power and aim to be able to throw the snowballs well. It didn’t take long for the snowball fight to start in earnest, and I started packing snowballs as fast as I could.

The kids didn’t take long to recognize me. And though I didn’t aim and throw like I was throwing a guy out at first, I made the kids squeal each time they got hit with a snowball.

In the meantime, Wally was in his glory, running back and forth, this way and that way, trying to catch the snowballs being thrown. He jumped up and caught a few in his mouth, crumbling them in the process. The kids loved it and even threw a few just for Wally to catch.

I didn’t keep track of how long we were out in the field, but eventually, all the kids were soaked. So were Catherine and I. My coat was thick enough to keep the worst of the cold away, but there were a few wet spots on my jeans from the ones that missed their initial targets and hit my legs.

Catherine’s coat had fewer spots, but her jeans were far more soaked than mine were.

“Why don’t we go inside?” I offered as I helped her brush off the remaining bits of snow from the last snowball. Then I turned to the group of kids and hollered, “Catch you later, guys. Merry Christmas.” I whistled for Wally. “Let’s go, pup.”

“That sounds heavenly. It’ll probably help me stop shivering, too. I think I took too many snowballs up by the hood of my coat. Actually, you know what? I think some hot cocoa’s in order. Let’s go to Anna’s Café.” She shivered a little as she brushed some snow away with her gloved hand, but I was glad she had fun.

“Let’s go, then.”

“Mr. West!” It was Peter, one of the boys in the snowball fight who was also a neighbor down the street from us.

“Hi Peter. What? You want more?” I teased.

“No sir. I heard you say you’re going to Anna’s, but you have your dog. I’d be glad to walk him around while you’re inside drinking your cocoa.”

“You are so right, Peter. What was I thinking?” I said, shaking my head. “That would be great and much appreciated.”

The other kids had already started to disperse. Catherine, Peter, Wally, and I walked further down the street to Anna’s, which had hot cocoa all winter. It had been one of our favorite places to go to when we were in high school.

“Here’s Wally’s leash, Peter,” I said as I handed it to him. “He’ll walk with you and shouldn’t bother others as he’s used up a lot of his energy today. If he wants to walk in a different direction, just tug a little on his leash – he’ll correct his course for you. And thanks. We’ll be about twenty or thirty minutes.”

Catherine and I went inside to the warmth of Anna’s.

“That was so much fun. I’ve missed having snowball fights,” Catherine said.

“It was a lot of fun. Made me feel good to throw again.”

“That’s right. How’s your arm feeling?” Catherine questioned with some concern in her voice.

“Surprisingly, not bad,” I said. “I had surgery after my injury and then spent time in rehab. I’m not up to standard, you could say. But being able to throw today and not worry about meeting a standard was terrific.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you enjoyed the fight, even if it wasn’t as interesting or complex as a game of baseball,” Catherine said with a bright, genuine smile.

A moment later, we were at the counter and ready to order. She ordered a simple hot cocoa. I ordered a hot cocoa with mini marshmallows because why not? Mini marshmallows are fun.

We sat at one of the smaller tables in the café, and she took her coat off. There was a good amount of snow stuck in her coat. She groaned.

“There’s more snow than I realized. I should probably shake all this snow out. Let me run back outside.”

“Let me take it out for you,” I offered. “I’ve still got on my coat. It’ll only take me a minute or so.”

With that, I took her coat and stepped outside. I walked over to the curb where no one was around to get hit with flying snow, shook the coat, and wiped it down until all the snow was gone.

I returned a few minutes later and handed her coat to her. “Here you go. A bit wet in spots, but the snow’s gone.”

“Thanks, Noah. I think that did the trick. I’m going to let it dry some while we’re here. Hopefully, the heat will help with that,” she said as she laid the coat across the back of her seat, wet side up.

“Why don’t we go back to the Market? I’ve decided I want to get that snowman quilt I found earlier,” she said, sipping her hot cocoa.

“Back to the Market sounds great. Let’s finish our cocoa.”

We both finished our hot cocoa in between “mmms” and “ahhhs”. When we were both done and before we left the cafe, I bought a hot cocoa for Peter, who was standing outside with Wally.

“Here you go Peter,” I said, handing him the cocoa. “Thank you, but could you stay with us for one more stop at Tulie’s?”

“You betcha, and thanks for the cocoa, Mr. West,” Peter said, smiling with delight.

We all headed back to the Market with Peter and Wally ahead of us, talking about our careers – the troubles of hers, the frustrating end of mine.

“An injury? Does that happen often in baseball?” Catherine sounded curious.

“I’m all healed up now, but an injury can happen in any sport if you’re not careful.” I shrugged. “The cold is bringing some aches, but my doctor warned me that would be normal. Eventually, it would heal to where the weather wouldn’t affect it like now.”

“I see. Well, that’s good to hear. What happened? Do you know how you injured yourself?”

“I overexerted myself in a game,” I said.

I didn’t want to tell her all the details, particularly because my retirement wouldn’t be announced until the start of the next season. There would be plenty of rumors throughout the training season, though. I just wanted to lay low and get my life together before the announcement hit the mainstream media.

“Oh. That’s too bad. I know that you love baseball. At least the injury healed enough that you can play next season.” Catherine offered me a smile.

I swear I caught a bittersweet moment as if she wanted to see that I was doing something more than baseball. That was a sweet idea, but there were just some things that I didn’t know right now. One of those things was what I would do now that I was done playing professionally. And it wasn’t for a lack of trying; so far, none of the options I was most interested in had any openings.

As we returned to the Christmas Market, I tried to turn the conversation from me back to her. She could hear the details of everything if she simply looked it up online. Wouldn’t take more than five or ten minutes if she was dedicated.

“And your career? Besides being taken away from your writing, how is it going?”

“I keep going round and round about that. I might be ready to start from the ground up again just so that I can write, but I don’t know that I can afford my apartment if I do that,” she said. “The cost of living in California is much higher than here.”

“If I went remote and worked on California time, I could probably afford something decent out here… but I’m not sure I want to do that, either. Most of the time, these companies need you to come in person at least once a week. It’s a stupid thing to require for those of us who just want to write, but I can understand where they’re coming from as far as wanting to give feedback to your face.”

She sighed. “And, you know what’s even crazier. I’ve considered teaching lately. I’ve not thought about that since we were in high school. I gave up on that idea because I was making good money writing. I’m no longer writing, but I still want to be. Where do I go from here?”

“You’d have to go back to school if you wanted a teaching degree, I think,” I said. “Or do you mean tutoring instead of teaching in a brick-and-mortar school?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I could offer tutoring but also creative writing classes online. There are online places where you can create courses for others to follow. That might work better for me instead of working on a second degree. But I’m not sure I would do well with the online thing – with it being entirely online instead of partially in-person. I need to do more checking on it.”

“You won’t know until you give it a try, and what better way to try it than while you’re still mulling over options and in a secure job?” I asked.

We arrived back at Tulie’s Homewares, and she made a beeline for the snowman quilt as if she hadn’t heard what I had said. I hoped she had, but I wasn’t going to press the issue. Instead, I looked at the quilts that were available for purchase. Most were Christmas-themed, of course. One was a quilt with patches made to resemble a Christmas tree, with gifts under the tree and ornaments adorning it.

Mom would love that quilt. I grabbed it from the shelf as Catherine returned to my side.

“Oh, did you find something, too?”

“For my mom,” I said. “I think she’d love this design. She’s always loved seeing how others decorate Christmas trees.”

“Great! Then we should check out and get out of here before spending more money. This quilt is already straining my wallet. More than I usually spend on a gift, anyway.” Her cheeks turned bright red as she said that, but I could understand the reason behind it.

We both checked out, and the walk back to our houses was silent but for Peter and Wally running then walking and having fun. If Catherine wanted to move, she’d be able to find numerous writing jobs in a large city. What stuck out to me was her reluctance; if she wanted to be able to write for a living, she’d have to make a job change. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help her out there. It was one thing to have to retire due to an injury. It was another thing entirely to want to return to a position lower in pay than where you were. Especially if she wasn’t prepared to move.

I shook it all away. Before long, we were back in our neighborhood, and Peter handed Wally’s leash to me. “Thanks again, Mr. West, for the cocoa, and thanks for letting me spend time with Wally. He’s a great dog,” Peter said before turning for his house. We continued and soon arrived at Catherine’s home, and I walked her to the door.

“Have a good day, Catherine,” I said softly. “I hope you can find the answer to the puzzle.”

“Me too. Have a good day, Noah.”

I smiled at her and watched as she walked inside. Once she was safely inside, I walked home – right next door. I took the quilt to my room so Mom couldn’t see it, though her car was gone. She was probably doing more last-minute shopping. Isn’t that what you do at Christmas time?