Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Avoidance was paramount.
Although, even Justin knew he couldn’t spend his days at work and his evenings holed up in his apartment—even if it would help the word total on his current WIP.
Since he’d gotten home from work, he’d been at his desk. He sat in front of his computer, staring at the blinking cursor. The words just wouldn’t come to him.
He’d type a sentence and then backspace until it was erased. He groaned. He repeated this process over and over again.
He got up and paced. His brain searched for the next scene. All he came up with was a great big nothing. He had no idea where his characters were going or what their next obstacle would be.
He walked to the fridge and pulled out an energy drink. He took a gulp and then another. He grabbed a bag of red-hot tortilla chips from the counter and took them back to his desk.
He stared at the black screen. Some might call him a fool for working on the second book when he was unable to gain any attention for the first book. For all he knew, he didn’t have any talent.
However, what he did have was love for the written word, a big imagination, and he cared about these characters. So, he refused to shove this manuscript—this fictional world—into a drawer, never to see the light of day again.
All he had to do was write one word and then another word.
His fingers moved over the keyboard, slowly at first, but then he picked up speed.
And this time he didn’t immediately erase the words.
He didn’t allow his internal editor to take over.
He would later, but for now, the words stayed. He continued to type…
Garran looked at the being on the ground next to him. He didn’t know their name. He didn’t know where they’d come from. The only thing he knew was that they’d saved his life at great cost to their own.
He grabbed the wounded victim, drawing them upward until they were standing next to him. She was semi-conscious. He looped his arm under their shoulders and helped them into the dense foliage of the forest.
He could hear the faint sound of voices in the background. There was no way he would be able to outrun them with the female in his arms having a bullet lodged in her leg.
Garran glanced down and found the female’s head slumped forward. And when he took a closer look, he noticed she was losing a lot of blood. The last thing he needed was for her to pass out. There was no way he could carry dead weight over the rough terrain.
Ding-ding-ding.
With his fingers still poised over the keyboard, he glanced over at his phone.
It was his alarm. It was time for him to head to the school to work on the props for the children’s Christmas play.
The senior high had done a production of Scrooge for the past two weekends.
They charged a modest admission and raised enough money to go toward costumes and props as well as the upkeep of the theatre.
But now that their production was over for the season, it was time for the littles to prepare for the children’s Christmas play.
It was always a big deal because everyone loved seeing the youngsters up on the stage.
For the past few years since Mr. Johnston could no longer build the set because of his arthritis, Justin had taken over. He enjoyed working with his hands. This year the play was going to be The Night Before Christmas.
He reread the last paragraph that he’d written. “Sorry, guys. You’re going to have to hang in there until I get back.”
As he signed off his computer, he smiled as he imagined the hero scowling at him.
Something told him that even if he never sold a single book, he would keep writing.
He’d grown up surrounded by books. He loved to escape into other worlds.
But now that he had tried writing, he loved it even more than reading.
There was something so magical about putting words on the page and having characters come to life.
Knowing he had to get a move on, he let go of his fictional world as he gathered his things and then headed out the door. On his way to the school, he saw Jingle Bell Books come into sight.
It was then he remembered he was supposed to pick up a book.
He sighed. With his string of agent rejections and Felicity’s surprise visit, he was utterly distracted.
He slowed down, hoping with it being the holidays that they would be open late.
That wasn’t the case. He supposed he would have to find time to stop by the next day because he really did want the book.
He’d probably be up most of the night reading. The series was that good.
When he reached the school, he found a lot of cars in the parking lot. It looked like there was a rehearsal going on. It would make doing his job a little more complicated, but it was still doable.
And so, with his toolbox in hand, he headed inside the school.
He did his best to stay out of the way as the rehearsal took place.
Mrs. Merry Kringle was in charge. As the mayor’s wife, she was involved in many activities.
He didn’t know how she ran a business and stayed so involved in the town’s events.
The wood pieces he had painted last week were dry now. The senior class had helped him with the painting. As he looked at the backdrop of the living room, he had to admit it looked pretty good.
Now he needed to put together the fireplace with a trap door in the back for Santa to enter through. With some help from the stage crew, they nailed and screwed the pieces together.
They were just finishing up when he heard raised voices coming from the dressing room across the hall from the stage. The doors must be propped open. He paused and listened to see if his assistance was needed.
“That doesn’t look like a mouse,” a woman shouted. “It’s not even cute.”
“And my son doesn’t look like a reindeer,” another woman said.
“Ladies”—he recognized Merry’s voice—“let’s give Sandra a moment.”
“But you don’t understand…”
The bickering resumed. He was so glad he had nothing to do with any of it.
After working on the children’s Christmas play for a few years, he’d found that some parents were more passionate about their child’s participation than others.
But today they were more vocal than any other time he could recall.
He’d just finished with the last wood screw when he heard, “That’s it! I quit! I’m going to see my daughter in Connecticut for the holidays.”
“But Sandra, you can’t. Please.” Merry’s voice had a pleading tone. “How will we manage without you?”
“Anyone could do better than her!” one woman snapped.
Ouch! It was really getting nasty. It looked like even Merry was having problems soothing the rising tempers.
The next thing he knew, Sandra stomped across the stage. She had her coat on, and in one hand she had a bag, and in the other hand she had what looked to be a sewing machine case.
“Sandra, wait.” Merry rushed after the woman.
All the while, Justin pretended he hadn’t seen a thing.
Stuff like this never happened when he was a kid.
He remembered being on the stage crew. Even then he enjoyed putting things together.
Back then, Felicity had worked with the costumes and makeup.
She said that she preferred working behind the curtain rather than in front of it.
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as the memories played in his mind. In those days, they’d just been friends—good friends—but still just friends. It was before he’d worked up the courage to ask her out—before he messed up everything with her.
As he worked, thoughts of Felicity continued to fill his mind.
When things had ended between them, he not only lost the woman he loved but also his best friend.
The loss of that relationship left behind a gaping hole in not only his life but his heart.
Since then, no one had ever filled that vacant space in his heart.
Not that he hadn’t tried. He really did try to love Nadia, but it just hadn’t been enough.
Now, he was thinking that he would never find that special someone. He’d had his chance at true love, and it had blown up in his face. Some relationships are just too special to ever be replaced.
“Oh, Justin, it’s lovely.” Merry’s voice drew his attention.
He turned to her. “Thanks. But I had a lot of help. Some of the seniors helped me paint the setting, and then the stage crew helped me put it all together.”
Of course, the kids had all left by now. And from the silence, he’d guess the disgruntled parents had also departed. He couldn’t say that he was disappointed to see them go.
“Well, it looks great.” Merry smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was probably still troubled by the shouting. “Thank you for all of your help.”
He nodded, not comfortable with compliments.
“By the way, did you know that Felicity is back in town? I just thought of her because you two used to always be involved with the Christmas play when you were kids.”
He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to tell her about his run-in with Felicity. Feeling Merry’s expectant gaze on him, he said, “We passed on the street.”
Merry smiled. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could convince her to stay in Kringle Falls? I know how much her mother misses her.”
He wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t open a can of worms. Because if he said that he wanted her to stay, Merry would take that to mean he wanted to get back together with Felicity. Seriously. Merry tended to go to extremes when she got excited.
And if he were to say that he wasn’t anxious for Felicity to stay, then Merry would probably lecture him on not being a good friend or some such thing. It didn’t matter what he said, it wouldn’t go well for him. Instead, he went the neutral route and merely gave a brief nod.
Merry started to walk away and then paused to turn back. “By the way, does your mother have a sewing machine?”
A sewing machine? “I have absolutely no idea.”
“No worries. I’ll see you later.” And then she was off.
As he hammered in a couple of nails, he was left wondering if Merry was going to plot to keep Felicity in town. Well, of course she was going to do it. He’d seen the gleam in her eyes.
“Ouch!”
He looked down at his now-red thumb. He’d totally missed the nail and instead hit himself because he was distracted by the thought of Felicity staying in Kringle Falls. He wasn’t sure this town was big enough for the both of them.