Broken (Book 1, The Watcher Chronicles, Paranormal Romance) (19 page)

It
isn’t until almost five that evening that we reach our final destination, Vern and Sadie’s farm.  Vern is outside placing the harness around their mule’s neck to pull the old doctor buggy style carriage they own.

“Hey there, Vern,” Mama Lynn call
s out as we walk up into their yard.

Vern and Sadie live on the outskirts of town which allow
s them to keep their farm animals in their front yard if they so choose.  They do have a rusty old tin barn in the backyard but they were never ones to force their animals to stay in it if they didn’t want to.

“Hey now,
Lynn, girls.  I hope those are your cookies in that tin,” Vern says with a gap toothed grin.

“You know it is,” Mama Lynn
replies.  “You takin’ Odalie to the cemetery?”

Vern pats Odalie’s neck.  “Yep.  It’s that time again.”

I hear the screen door of their old farm house squeak and see Sadie walk out wrapping a red knitted scarf around her neck.

She smiles when she sees u
s and I notice a small brown paper bag in the shape of a bottle peeking out of her coat pocket.

“Hey there,” she says coming to stand with us.

“Merry Christmas, Sadie.” Mama Lynn hands Sadie the Santa Claus tin. “Maybe you can share one with Jamie.”

Sadie smiles sadly and nods her head.  I see her eyes glaze with unshed tears before she hugs Mama Lynn
tightly.

“You know how much he used to love
them,” Sadie says.  “Thank you.”

“Well
, we’ll let you two go say hi to him.  Ya’ll have a good Christmas.”

As we wave good bye and walk back to the car, I see Vern wipe tears from the corners of his eyes.

Almost ten years ago, Vern and Sadie lost their one and only child, Jamie, to cancer.  He’d struggled with it all his life and his body simply gave out one Christmas morning.  Now, every year Vern and Sadie ride over to the cemetery to say merry Christmas to their son allowing Odalie to drive them over.  By not driving a motorized vehicle, they give themselves the freedom to imbibe in the liquid courage sitting comfortably in Sadie’s pocket.

A little before seven that evening George and John Austin make it over to Mama Lynn’s for our annual caroling extravaganza.  Each year, Mama Lynn choose
s a theme for us and this year she chose to make us all wear light up reindeer antlers on top of our heads.  Only poor George is forced into wearing a light up red nose too.  We all knew that it was only our undying love for Mama Lynn which would willingly make us debase ourselves in front of our friends and neighbors.

As we walk around the neighborhood, singing Christmas carols and carrying our flashlights, people come out of their homes to thank us for stopping by and wish us a
Merry Christmas.  When we reach Beau’s home, I almost bust out laughing because his whole family is wearing Santa Claus ear muffs.  Since it’s not that cold outside, I can only assume Beau bought them to muffle the high pitched screech of Faison’s falsetto singing voice.  Beau winks at me in a conspiratorial manner when we turn to leave, and I force myself not to laugh.

When we get back to Mama Lynn’s house, we all drink some spiked egg nog and eat the snack trays Mama Lynn prepared for us
, a tradition we were all used to and one we wouldn’t let her get away with not doing.  We play Pictionary until almost midnight before sleep calls our names.  When I lay down in my old bedroom, my thoughts drift of their own accord to Mason.  I lay there wondering what he is doing at that exact moment.  I hug the pillow on the other side of the bed close to my body and drift off to sleep.

The next morning I’m rudely woken up by a crazy woman shaking me half to death.  I open one eye and see Faison standing over me.

“Stop,” I tell her, my voice deadly serious.

“Get up!” Faison says, continuing to shake me.  “Santa Claus came to see you last night!”

I turn my head away from her hoping she gets the hint.  “There is no Santa Claus, Faison.  But there is something called sleep.”

I suddenly find myself with
out any covers which makes me sit up in bed so I can glare at Faison.

With a sheepish grin, knowing she might have gone too far, she drops the sheet and comforter in her hands to the floor.

“Please, Jess.  I’m not joking.  Santa Clause came to see you last night.  Come on!”

Before I know it she’s pulling on my arm to get me out of bed.

“Ok, ok, ok,” I say.  “I’m up.  You don’t have to pull my arm out of its socket.”

Like an excited
four year old, Faison rushes out of the room ahead of me and bounds down the stairs.  I stifle a yawn as I slowly make my way to the first floor.  Half way down the staircase, my eyes are drawn to a large mound of silky material, landing somewhere in the color spectrum between royal purple and periwinkle.  It’s one of the most gorgeous colors I’ve ever seen.

As I make it to the bottom of the stairs, I see Mama Lynn sipping on a cup of coffee staring at the dress and Faison emphatically waving me over.

“Come on,” she urges me.  “Read the note!”

I walk over and see that the mound of silk I saw from up the stairs is a
stunningly beautiful dress, something you would only see on TV in a fancy party sequence.  The ruching of the organza skirt would be enough to give the gown a rich design but when added with the thicker silk comprising the inner front skirt and crystal bejeweled bodice, I feel my breath being taken away by just the beauty of the dress.

“Read the note!” Faison almost screams at me.

I look at the small table beside the chair where the dress lays and see a delicate masquerade ball mask.  Its base color is silver but it has gold accents around the eyes.  A light coat of a deep red glitter accentuates the curves and crevices of the mask and glittering crystal clear jewels matching those found on the dress dance in the light of the morning sun streaming through the window.

A folded white note stands behind the mask.  On the front of it is my name, Jessica, spelled out in curvy gold filigree writing.  I reach for the note and look inside it.

I know I’m a little late but hope you will forgive me.  The dress doesn’t match exactly but I hope you like it and have somewhere to wear it soon.

Love,

Santa Claus

“So, what does it say?” Faison asks.

I hand her the note as I look back at the dress. 

Faison reads the note quickly.  “Maybe you should open the gift too,” she suggests, handing me back the note.  “That must be what he’s talking about with the matching thing.”

“What gift?” I ask.

“The one sitting under the tree,” Mama Lynn points to a box with her pinky finger as she takes another sip of her coffee, watching me carefully.

I look under the tree and see a glittery gold box a
little bigger than a shoe box with a silky white ribbon wrapped around it, tied into an intricate bow.

I pull the present out and stare at it for a m
oment.  I slowly pull one end of the bow and it collapses easily away from the box onto the floor.  When I lift the lid, I feel the sting of tears burn my eyes before they fall freely down my cheeks.

Faison and Mama Lynn come to stand beside me and peer inside the box.

“Oh my God,” Mama Lynn says, “is that what I think it is?”

“How did he even find one?” Faison
asks.  “They stopped making those things years ago.”

Gently, I pull out the
Rebecca American Girl doll I wanted the Christmas my parents were taken through the Tear.  She’s dressed in a pink and blue masquerade ball gown complete with mask, gloves and fairy wings.

“He’s Santa Claus,” I answer, even though we all know who brought the gifts.  Besides Faison and Mama Lynn, there was only one other person who knew what I asked Santa to bring me fifteen years ago.

I hug the doll to me and let myself bask in Mason’s thoughtfulness.

I stare at the phone in my hands, chewing on my bottom lip debating for the hundredth time that
morning if I should hit send.

“Just send it already,” Faison
urges me, rolling her eyes.  “Stop thinking so much.”

We ha
ve just finished eating Mama Lynn’s famous egg-sausage-cheese breakfast casserole and are sitting around the dining room table.

“It’s the polite thing to do considering all the trouble he went to,” Mama Lynn say
s, placing her elbows on the table and leaning in towards me. 

“But he signed it Santa Claus,” I sa
y.  “Maybe he didn’t want me to know they were from him.”

Faison
snatches the phone out of my hands and before I can grab it back I see her hit the send button.

“There.  It’s done.  Now let
’s go play with the dress!”

I sit in stunned silence, letting myself realize what just happened.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I say, resting my forehead on the top of the table and banging it softly three times.

“You were going to send it anyway,” Faison reasons.  “I just made sure you did it this year instead of next.”

The phone buzzes in Faison’s hands.  Surprisingly, she hands it back to me without trying to read the text first.

I open the message and read what I wrote plus the response.

Dear Santa, thank you for my gifts.  I love them all.  Jess

Dear Jess, I’m glad you like the gifts.  I was told you ha
ve been a very good girl this year.  Santa

“Oooh,” I hear Faison say over my shoulder, “maybe he’s into role-playing.  You should tell him you want to be a naughty girl next year and ask if he wants to help you with that.”

I feel my cheeks flush.

“Faison,” Mama Lynn says standing up, a warning in her voice, “help me clear the table while Jess texts him back.”

“What do I say?” I ask her
, not knowing how to respond to his text.

Mama Lynn smiles.  “That’s up to you.”

I look down at Mason’s response and decide on what to write back.

Mason, your thoughtfulness has touched me deeply.  I really don’t know what to say but thank you.  I’m not sure where I will wear the dress but it’s gorgeous.  I’ve never owned anything to match its beauty.

I send the message and find myself waiting breathlessly for his reply.  It takes almost five minutes for him to send something back.

Angela hosts a masquerade ball every New Year’s Eve at her London home.  I thought you might like to attend and wear the dress there…

I stare at the text not sure who is inviting me:  Angela or Mason.  I decide it doesn’t matter.  Any excuse to wear the dress and have Mason see me in it is fine with me.

I would love to come to Angela’s ball.  The dress is too beautiful not to be seen.

  I wait for the reply and get one almost instantly.

Angela and Jonathan both say they can’t wait to see you there.  Merry Christmas, Jess.  See you Monday.

I sigh, slightly disappointed he’s cut our conversation off so succinctly.

The phone vibrates in my hand and I quickly look at the text.

P.S. I can’t wait to see you in the dress 

Another text appears.

P.P.S. I know you will look beautiful in it

I smile down at the last message.

“So I guess you found the right thing to say?” Mama Lynn asks, coming to sit down beside me at the table.

“He sort of invited me to a masquerade ball on New Year’s Eve,” I tell her.  “But I can’t tell if he plans to take me himself or if I’m just supposed to go there stag.”

“Jess,” Mama Lynn says like I should know better, “no man buys a dress like that for a woman he doesn’t intend to go out with himself.”

“You know
… he stayed with me the night I was sick.”

“Yes, I know.”

I look up at her in surprise.

“George told me all about meeting him yesterday morning,” she tells me.  “He said he never saw you
look so happy before.”

I feel my heart tighten in my chest.  “It scares me,” I tell her in a whisper, not even sure if I’m ready to admit my feelings to myself much less
to her. 

“Jess, you’ve been hiding from the world for a long time now.  I haven’t said anything
because I know what you’ve been through.  But, you need to take a chance and let yourself fall in love with someone.  Stop being scared of what might happen.  There’s no one on this earth who knows what the future holds for any of us.  You are too good a person to only let yourself love me and Faison.  There’s a whole world out there you’ve not let yourself experience because you’ve been too scared of being hurt again.  I don’t think your parents would approve.  I feel confident in saying they would tell you to live every day of your life like you’re living your last day on Earth.  Life’s too short to worry about being hurt all the time.  The only way you’ll ever find happiness is by letting other people in.”