CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHRISTMAS AT CHATTERTON PLACE
Over the next couple of weeks, she understood what it was like to be alone in this world. Not only did Jim stop stroking her, every time they passed. He stopped coming by all together. The outburst of emotion, that Mike had used to drop her to the tarmac, never re-appeared. Even while discussing business, he keeps a healthy distance between them. Seldom making eye contact, and as usual not attending any of the group meetings.
If he’d just taken the time to get involved, he may have found the end of the year less competitive. Actually, she’d called the meeting in hopes of seeing Jim, but even he, didn't show.
The premature snow had brought thoughts of the holidays to the forefront of everyone’s mind. She’d been so preoccupied, trying to figure out what she’d done to deserve being abandoned. That the conversation was well developed before she fell into it.
"That's just what the place reminds me of. Especially since, the guy's installed the lamps." Beth’s green eyes were gleaming with excitement, as Emma became aware of what was being said.
"We'll make some costumes." Shelly added
"Right and we can sing carols all over the place" Lydia even seemed to be in the swing of the discussion.
If only she’d some idea of what they were talking about. Admitting she hadn't been listening, would’ve been like getting her to go to the doctor. After all, she’d been the one to call the meeting. While Kit was telling how they finally managed to get the trucks out of the canyon. She was sidetracked, remembering the way Jim had promised to stop tormenting her. She knew his stand on how final that decision was going to be. How could he have expected her to take it any less serious? Was that why he hadn't been around? Had he thought she would just allow him to have his way, without a commitment? Had she been too willing to slip into his sleeping bag? She’d been freezing. He couldn't put her down for that.
"Mom" Jimmy was asking her a question, which again she hadn't heard. Unfolding her arms from across her chest, where they reminded her of the warmth Jim had offered. She finally had to admit that she wasn't listening.
"Mom" Crystal exclaimed, "You've been shaking your head yes for twenty minutes, don't tell us you’re changing your mind."
"No –no" she only wished, she knew what she’d just agreed to. "I just didn't hear Jimmy." She could tell from the look in her daughter's face, that she didn't believe her. Lucky for her, Jimmy wasn't quite so skeptical.
"I just wanted to know if it would be okay to get those buggies out of the old barn. Dad said he saw the skids there too. If you’ll let us, we'll put them on – somehow." he looked around the room for help
"I can do that." Sam spoke up.
"Well, then we can offer sleigh rides." He finished
"And hay rides." Crystal added, "Mom I told Todd about having hayrides, we have to have hayrides."
It dawned on Emma they had been discussing the holidays, or at least the preparations for the holidays. "I think that's a great idea." She agreed, and then suddenly remembering the unusual things that had happen there, she added. "I just think you had better ask your Father about it first." The minute she referred to Jim as his Father, she realized he’d called her Mom, like the rest of the kids. It made her feel successful, in a way that being recognized as a mother could only do.
"He'll help. I just know he will." He proclaimed
As she looked into his flashing black eyes, she thought back to the first time she’d seen him standing in the front yard of Jim's. He’d been clad all in gang clothing, sporting a bandana around his shaven head and swearing every other word. How very different he was from the man that stood before her.
"Great." Shelly exclaimed throwing her arms around his strong shoulders. "It'll be the best Christmas ever."
She recalled that as a child the holidays, had always been the best time of the year. Preparation started sometime around the end of October. They would learn new songs to be caroled, or a part in a play, and ended with a giant New Year Eve party at her parents’ house. There were parties to attend every weekend between Thanksgiving and the First of the year. Dresses to be made or bought– Presents to be wrapped–A tree to be picked, but mainly there was excitement in the air, even romance.
While she chooses to forget the Christmas, she and Mike broke up. The one he came asking her to marry him made up for it. Then the kids came along and money got tight, but still there were all the parties to attend. After her mother's death, her family went their different ways and she even lost track of her cousin's. Soon Mike convinced her that last minute shopping was foolish, and she started buying the presents during the year, leaving nothing to chance. The cards stopped coming, mainly because no one knew where she was most of the time. The tree became artificial, the eggnog imitation, and the romance of the season was swept out with extra hours, to pay the bills. Parties became outdated. Caroling grew cold. Then of course, there were the icy roads to travel, the drunk drivers, crowded stores, muggers – soon it even became too costly to call. The only thing that continued to give her comfort was her mothers’ miniature village, which she’d managed to hang on to and sat up every year under the fake tree.
The spirit of Christmas was as warm and growing in her heart, as the bleak and barren trees outside her kitchen window, she thought, as she poured herself another cup of coffee and went back to the third quarter reports on the crowded kitchen table. Snow was again falling, while she moved the sugar bowl for the fourth time, in an attempt to keep the small space she’d managed to secure from the breakfast rush, taking place around her.
"Why don't you just do those in your office?" Jason asked for the third time that week.
"Jason, Mom told you. She can't stand the light in the basement." Shelly replayed her words.
"Yeah, you don't want her going blind do you?" Crystal asked, shuffling the milk around again. "Todd said that a person's sight is the most important sense."
While she was proud of the way Crystal had made the decision to work at Todd's office, and take nursing classes at night, she’d just about had enough of the 'Todd said' syndrome. A minute later when the phone rang, Shelly jumped for it before Crystal could get to her feet and the toppled milk engulfed her paperwork. She’d finally had enough of everything.
After wiping up the soggy mess, tongue in cheek because she knew darn well it was her fault for not standing up to Mike. She decided she’d better get out of there before she lost her temper, with the wrong people. So after tacking the still legible spreadsheets to the fridge to dry, she headed for town, hoping she could cut Mike's reminders of Christmas shopping, off at the pass. Even thought it was only the end of October. He probably thought she had it done months ago.
The snow flurried before the car, in a great blanket of white. If she hadn't been so entrenched in thought, she might have seen the large white pick up before she did. Its driver obviously was having just as much trouble seeing. He was driving squarely down the centerline. By the time his headlights cut through the blinding whiteout in front of her, ditching the car was all she had a chance to do. Cutting her wheel sharply to the right, she plowed into a mound of snow and came to rest against a misplaced bolder, from the steep overhang of the cliff above her.
The sudden stop had forced the breath from her damaged rib cage, and propelled her forehead against the steering wheel. "Thank God," she whispered, "For seat belts", as she leaned back against the stiff leather of the cold seat. She didn't even think the other driver had stopped, until he suddenly appeared at her door and started to pull her from the dead vehicle.
When he couldn't get the belt to come loose immediately, he started to probe about her chest. "What the heck, do you think you’re doing?" she protested loudly, forcing his hand from her body.
“How bad are you hurt?" his hot breath smelt of cinnamon, as he dropped to his knees and laid his head down at her leg, out of breath. "I couldn't see you." He announced looking up at her. "Damn it. Why do they still have school on these mornings?"
It was Wes Harris, or she thought it was. He had a cut, which was gushing blood down his face, from over his right eye. "Your hurt." she exclaimed, reaching for her purse, but it wasn't at her side any longer.
"Emma?" he pronounced her name, as if they were long lost friends, "My God," he reached up to gently slide his hand down her cheek.
"Let me get to my purse.” he looked so frightened she couldn't think "I've got a tissue." she found the button and released the strap from over her shoulder. Turning, she found it lodged between the seats, pulling the white puffs from their covering, she quickly turned back to press them to his cut but he was no longer at her side. Stepping from the car into the swirling cloud, she caught the slow movement of someone walking away from her. "Wait." she shouted into the hushed flakes falling on her nose. "Wait."
Before chasing him down, she reached in and set the flashers to clicking. Then proceeded on to the other side of the road, where the truck lay on its side, and a few hundred feet from the pavement. She could hardly believe that that much damage could be done by a near miss. Trying to step in his footsteps, she suddenly remembered he’d said something about school. She paused and drew a breath, was there a child in that wreckage? Was that why he’d wondered off so fast? "Mr. Harris." She called with all her might.
"Stay there Emma." he called back. He’d done it again, what reason did this man have, to call her by her first name. They had never even had a full conversation before. She could hear him speaking to someone, but with no response. Her heart jumped to her throat, there had to be a child.
"Please let me help. Maybe I can do something, calm the child or something." She pleaded to be allowed to come closer.
"Stay there." his voice raced back, to stop her in her tracks. "I'll be right there."
What was she going to be able to do anyway? All she had was a few tissues and two shaky hands. Helplessly, she stood there, listening to him speak softly to someone she couldn't see, then static filled the air, and she heard the response. "I hear you Wes, Repeat your local." he’d been hailing someone on the CB. He again repeated their location, and then walked around to where she’d taken a seat in the snow, attempting to calm herself enough to ease the difficulty she was having with breathing.
"You are hurt, aren't you?"
"I'm fine," she stood up "But you’re still bleeding."
"Hell you are." he pushed away her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, as she staggered in the deep snow. "Here let me help you back to the car, if we get to close to the truck, it might just finish off down the hill."
The snow had been falling so hard, that she couldn't tell where they were, but when he said that, she realized that if the cliff was over hanging the car. Then the truck must be very close to the edge of the drop off, which plummeted another hundred feet, to the riverbed below. "You could’ve slide off there."
"Yeah, and I could’ve killed you too." he answered helping her into the driver’s seat. "Then where would this world be heading?" She didn't mean to look as if he was speaking another language, but she didn't understand his logic. "Forget it." He finally responded, "You really don't know what I mean anyway, do you?"
Shaking her head no, she managed to press the tissue to his head. "You said you were headed for the school."
He knelt at the open door and allowed her to care for the cut. "What I said was – I don't understand why they don't close school on days like this. I mean after all, you probably have a small tribe running around your place too."
"They are all taking classes via satellite, with a computer hook up." She replied straightening up. "They don't go to town for school." she rephrased her statement, because of the surprise on his face.
"Satellite, computer." he looked blankly into her face, "Don't tell me—" he stopped, in the middle of the sentence, and again reached for her face.
"What" she pulled back, even though his first touch was gently. "Don't tell you what."
He looked shocked by her sudden outburst. Shaking off the snow, which had continued to collect on the brim of his hat, he said, "I just can't imagine the county giving you the permission."
"I don't need permission. I can teach my children any way I like. I just have to see to it that they can meet the states requirements for credits."
"No school?" he again looked shocked, she went on to explain the states requirements, and promised to help him set up something similar, before the sheriff’s car pulled up.
Once they determined that she wasn't hurt, or at least that was what she told them. She was allowed to leave. As she drove the rest of the way into town, she wondered why Jim had thrown such a fit about not getting to close to that kind, concerned, family man. Oh granted he once frightened her on the front porch, but that could’ve been partly her fault. She recalled Jim telling her and Alex, that he was after the stone, and he would find one way or the other to get it.
The small town offered little in the way of a real department store, so it seemed the drug store would be the best place to start. Ghosts adorned the front window, squeezed between the Rx sign and the newest movie release to video. Inside a long bar stretched down one side of the small building and several small isles held the beauty supplies. At the back of the room was a small window, where two elderly women were standing having their prescriptions filled.
"Ms. Chase." Mr. Washburn's hoarse voice caught her attention from behind the fountain bar "You'd better sit down" he continued, streaking to her side. "Who hit you?" His face was filled with concern as he pressed her to a stool. She couldn't figure out how, he knew about the accident.
"He didn't hit me, we just missed each other." she spilled the facts, she thought he wanted to hear,
"Who?" he again asked
"Mr. Harris. His truck." she didn't have a chance to finish her statement before he was racing off across the street. Dumbfound she sat there, playing with the strap of her purse, trying to figure out what he’d ran off for, when like a streak of lightening Jim came bounding thru the door.
"What did he do?" he was demanding in her face. "Tell me what he did."
The room wasn't exactly holding still for her eyes.
"Jim, stop shaking me." She pried her arms loose from his tight grip, "We had an accident. No – we almost had an accident"
"Where is he?"
"With the sheriff, his truck rolled over." The gasp that sucked the air from the room was deafening. "But he’s okay." she turned to look at the crowd that had gathered.
"It doesn't look like you are." Jim insisted grabbing her hand.
"I'm fine, I just need a coke," she pulled herself around to stare into the mirror on the other side of the bar. "Mr. Washburn, my I have a soda please."
"Emma you have a bump on your head." Jim rested his hand on her shoulder.
"Yes," she responded trying to shrug off his hot hand, "and if I don't get some Christmas shopping done, Mike will put one on the back of it too."
"Christmas shopping" Mr. Washburn questioned, as he sat a coke on the counter and handed her a towel with ice wrapped in it. "Put it on your head." He commanded, "It'll take down the swelling."
"Damn it Girl." Jim slapped the back of her chair, before he stormed out the door, nearly as fast as he’d entered. She closed her eyes, so not to see him slide across the way.
"How's the dickens village coming along?" Mr. Washburn seemed to sense that she didn't want to talk about the accident.
"The what?" she opened her eyes in total surprise.
"Your oldest girl was here yesterday, ordering more hats from the Miss’s." He replied turning his back to her.
Perhaps she’d hit her head harder then she’d thought, but even if that was the case she wasn't about to tell him that. He would’ve just gone chasing after Jim again.
"Oh, it's coming along just fine."
"Jimmy said that you’re even going to be offering sleigh rides." he’d finally said something she remembered.
"And hay rides too." she added.
"It's going to be great to have the place back in operation. I remember as a kid going up there to ice skate on the pond. You might even draw a few more people here to the ski resort, with a little thing like a Dickens festival."
She didn't know what he was talking about, but had to admit that it did sounded fun. When she thought she could walk without staggering, she opened her purse to pay for her soda and discovered she’d hit the height of embarrassment. She didn't even have a quarter with her. Of course, he told her to forget about it anyway, but the thought that she didn't have any money with her, bothered her. She couldn't even remember the last time she paid for something with cash. Sure, she made out checks every day for the Place, but she hadn't used money in months. How had she planned to buy anything without it? Worst yet, she didn't have a penny to her name. She hadn't cut herself a check since the kids had moved down and before then the only reason she had, was to send to Mike.
Sliding into the car, she wondered just how she’d managed to go so long without spending money. She had to have put gas in the car. No – she hadn't the kids keep it filled when they used it. She hadn't even been in a grocery store in over eight months. The ranch supplied everything she wanted, and what she needed extra she ordered and paid for on an account. The thought of not needing money, was overwhelming. For years, she and Mike had struggled from one check, to the next. That thought made her realize she’d better call the insurance company and report the accident, before Mike came unglued, after all it was his car. Kit had started the conversion process with her van, after they had managed to get it down the canyon.
Pushing the keys into place, she debated calling from the Cottage. Then decided that was going to be too long after the accident for Mike to be pleased, and decided that she’d better find a phone as soon as possible. Scanning the abandoned street for a pay phone, she suddenly recalled that she didn't have any money.
Rubbing her forehead, she wondered if the bump had affected her more then she’d thought. Jim was the only person she felt she could impose upon – for the use of his phone. However, if she was going to go there, she knew she’d better be ready for a lecture, but what other choice did she have? She pulled the keys out and headed for his office, half wishing he wouldn't be there and she could just barrow the bar's phone. No luck, what he was doing there at that time a day was a mystery to her, but he was holding the phone to his ear when she slowly opened the door.
He waved for her to come in, and pushed a seat her way. She ignored it and walked to the window, where she waited until he was off the phone. The memory of the last time she’d stood at that window flooded back to her, making her being there even more difficult. How could he have held her so tight, so gently and still walked away as if she meant nothing the next morning? She didn't realize just how much she’d missed his warm touch, until the minute he softly laid his hand on her upper arm. Closing her eyes, she leaned backwards, against his masculine chest and whispered, "I'm sorry – I shouldn't have."
He slipped his hand across her mouth and hushed her "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stormed."
She spun and covered his mouth, to hush his apology. Staring up into his all-encompassing eyes, she started to tremble when he nibbled at the tips of her fingers. But when he sucked one into his mouth, her legs turned to jelly, and she gripped tightly to his strong shoulders to support her faltering knees.
"I promised –” He whirled her around and sat her down on the chair, "to stop tormenting you." he uttered with a shaky voice. "And I can't do it when your that close." She examined her hands as he stretched the distance between them, to the other side of the desk, wondering what she should say. She’d already admitted to a loveless marriage, should she ask him to be patient? Would he wait? Did she have the right to ask?
"I think the Dickens’s thing's a great idea." He said when he regained his composure.
"I only wish I knew what it was." she admitted to her lack of knowledge "I was too busy trying to figure out, why you had abandoned me, to listen that day."
He gripped his hands tightly together, and laid his head down on them on the desk "I haven't abandoned you." he replied through clinched teeth. "I promised you." he looked up, with wanting eyes. "And I told Mike I'd stay away from”
"What does he have to do with this? I would’ve thought that promise was made the other direction." She declared, gripping the arm of the chair with both hands. "I'm filing for divorce after the first of the year." She looked down expecting the worst, but when not a word fell from his lips, she debated if she’d said the wrong thing. “He just doesn't want anything to do with this place, with me."
He gently stroked the edge of her chin, then dropping her face – he turned and walked to the window. "I haven't made it easy on him."
"Jim, you haven't been there."
"Your car, it's –” he turned and started for the door “on fire."
Racing into the middle of the street, she got her first good view, of the strangest thing she’d ever seen. How could a car catch fire in the middle of a blizzard? Mr. Washburn was battling it with a small extinguisher, but it was useless. By the time the fire truck arrived, there wasn't much more than a smoldering shell left. The man dressed in a heavy black coat, said that the gas line had been ruptured in the accident. "If you'd started that thing before it caught fire, it would’ve gone up like a bomb."
The thought of how close she’d come to turning that key, left her without legs. Jim caught her up and carried her into the drug store, to sit her on the stool she’d occupied earlier. Then he shouted for someone to get the Doc, the words had no sooner escaped his mouth, when Todd appeared at the door. The minute he took her hand, she pulled away. "I'm fine, I just can't believe how close I came to—" she turned to look up at Jim. “I decided I'd have to call from your office, or he'd get Mad." she knew she wasn't making much sense. Todd insisted on taking her home. Jim agreed to stay behind to see to it that the mess was cleaned up. Nonetheless, that was her last excursion, away from the Place without an escort.
Sure Mike had appeared to be sympathetic to the cause, while the Doc was still standing there. The minute he’d cleared the door, Mikes true feeling cut loose and they weren't the same as when she landed at the airport. Although she’d walked away feeling like she’d just been scraped from the tarmac again.
He made it real clear, that she’d nearly destroyed, two car's in the last month and that she’d come close to losing her life both times. "Are you ready to go home now?" he asked at the top of his lungs. "I told you, this place will kill you. Why in the Hell do you think I didn't want you down here? Let me take you home now." he paused at the back door of the cottage, with his hand clutching the knob.
"No. It was my fault. It has nothing to do with the Place."
"Fine, but you’re not getting out of my sight, even the kid's know better than running off, without money in their pocket."
"Fine I'll just sit around here and rot." She shouted back.
"Fine, maybe in a few months you'll be ready to go home." He screeched, as he pulled the door shut, behind himself.
"This is my home." she’d used so much emphasis, that it ripped at the tender muscles of her of chest.
"How dare him," she screeched, ripping the spreadsheet from its drying spot. "I'll show him, this place is mine." she flung it on the empty table and sat down with a thud on the wooden chair. "Damn him." She was running out of steam. "Damn him." she uttered again. Before lowering her head to the table and crying her eyes out. "I'll give him what he wants." She whispered through the tears. "I'll sit here and play 'little miss stupid', making the beds, cooking his dinner. Which, he doesn't even come home to eat. Let him run this damn place." If Jim hadn't made it so clear that he didn't want a thing to do with her, she may have had the strength to fight back, but he’d made a promise and she knew he wouldn't back down. He was a man of his word. She couldn't be a person who makes him break a promise.
Emma did just as she was told for the following month. Pulling the so-called clutter, from her bedroom was the first step. She boxed all the little items, which she’d hung from her four-poster bed. With each she recalled another time spent with Jim, the rawhide and feather headdress he’d braided in to her hair, at the summer fair. A ring of flowers, he’d placed upon her head the morning he’d taken her to the Shakespeare festival, along with the ribbons she’d tied around her waist, as a belt.
While she was in the mood, she pulled the stuff from the closet and laid it in the box as well. Then was the pair of pants he’d allowed her to wear home, the day she was attacked by the doors. Soon the tears flooded her eyes and she could hardly see the shirt, he’d wrapped her in, the day at the old barn. Dropping to her knees, she clutched it to her face, allowing the scent of him to fill her total being.
Her chest burned with self-hatred, why had she allowed herself to fall in love with someone, who she couldn't have, and would allow a principle to stand between them?
"No” she shot to her knees, "This isn't right." gazing about the room, she realized that she’d only pulled the things that meant something to she and Jim. "It's all got to go." Jumping to her feet she pull anything that made the room look like hers. She and Mike's bedroom had always been barren, empty of endearing things. Even pictures had never adorned the walls.
Quickly she pulled everything that resembled a feminine aspect. Changing the bright spread from the bed, and replacing it with a solid brown one Mike had brought with him, was the final touch. Stepping back, it looked as bleak as an old motel room, not a touch of her remained behind. Turning, she striped the remaining portions of the house the same way, boxing everything. When Shelly stopped by to make sure she was okay, she had her and Jimmy hall all of it up to the old barn. She then put all of her jeans in a drawer, and pulled all of her dresses to the front of her closet. She even went so far as to slip her boots under the head of the bed and put on a pair of heels. Next, she pulled her hair up and twisted it in a tight knot, at the top of her head. A bit of make-up, her nails painted and she started a batch of cookies, which she deliberately burned, so he wouldn't think a thing had changed.
By the time the kids came home, she’d striped the small table in the front room of the pictures and created a desk for herself. At which she was seated, when they came through the door. "Mom," Jason started to tell her about his day, only to be turned back by her die look, for interrupting her.
Day after day, she spent doing the reports without the aid of the computer. Never venturing out, to find out what was going on around the place. She forced herself back into the old habits held before coming to the village. When she ran out of reports, she flipped on the TV and lit up a cigarette. Soon she didn't even bother to get up before the sun. Considering they were at the point, where there was more dark then light, she sleep a lot. But what did it matter anyway. There was no reason to get up.
Thanksgiving rolled around and she made the usual, turkey sandwiches with oven fries. She couldn't help but envy the kids, when they snuck away to Beth’s for a real meal. Mike seemed pleased though, and after all, wasn't that what a wife is there for. He still only used their bed as a place to rest his head. This was when he decided to grace her with his presence, at all. Even then, he never uttered a word of what was happening around the place, she’d had to turn to the kids for that.
She finally understood all the references to the Dickens Festival, but she didn't think Mike knew about it. Because of the way, he keeps talking about other things that were going to happen there that Christmas. Perhaps they were both going to have their place. Although she couldn't understand how a Dickens scene would look quite right with a giant Santa and a million little lights draped all over the place, but it was made clear that she was to keep her nose out of it. "You’re doing just fine here." Mike echoed as he again left her stranded there alone.
After the first couple of weeks of Beth trying to convince her to go back to work, only to be told the same thing repeatedly, she’d even stopped coming by. "That bump on your head, did more than I thought it had." She’d proclaimed the last time she’d stopped by. "It's warped your brain." The kids did less and less complaining, as they watched Mike stop by more often. They were again lulled into a state of false security.