17. Baby Blues and Lace #2
They make sausage biscuits for breakfast on hand-rolled biscuits, and their soft serve ice cream is famously poured over a Styrofoam bowl hosting a slab of homemade cherry cobbler. Only a devout vegan could resist this place. I’m not arrogant, but she’s never met a food truck in Chicago like it.
The young girl at the drive-through window is a sophomore history student of mine. She smiles brightly at Erika as she passes me the bag. “Coach McLain? Do you and the Chicago Christmas lady want ketchup, salt and pepper? I put a large fry in for y’all to share, so you might need some.”
A dimple flashes toward Erika as my student ogles her through the truck.
“Thank you—” Erika looks at my student’s name tag. “Brittany. I love the fries here. I think Coach McLain hogged them all the last time. I will take extra ketchup, salt and pepper, thanks.”
“I like your sweater.” My student is relentless. Apparently, the town also goes from zero to sixty where Erika is concerned.
“Thank you, Brittany. Make good money tonight. We’ll see you at the festivities on your nights off, yes?”
“Oh, yes, Miss Amherst. My church is helping with the live nativity. I’m signed up for costume changes. And my dad is supplying the sheep.” Brittany, from second period history, hands me a heaping hand full of salt. Pepper. Ketchup.
“Amazing. I can’t wait to see you guys there. Merry Christmas.” Erika’s genuine smile flashes and I have to remind my dick she’s the enemy.
“Merry Christmas, Miss Amherst!”
I drive away as my student waves at her girl crush in my passenger seat. Guess she wants to grow up and be just like her.
Yes, dear Brittany, you too can relocate to a small tucked away town and rearrange the people’s lives and plans at your every holiday whim. ‘Merry Christmas Miss Amherst—’
Please.
I’m into my second burger before Erika says, with an almost-full mouth. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
She bats those baby blues at me and something in me just has to relieve the tension. And, maybe I need to give her credit where it’s due.
“Look, I meant what I said. Do what you do, with Walter or anyone. It’s working.
You’ve got the whole town excited about your Christmas festival.
Hell, even June was pleasant this afternoon and she’s never pleasant to anyone but me.
You’ve got an NBA player bringing his teammates to town for a charity game.
Do you have any idea how much Jamarcus gets paid for one commercial?
And he’s coming and bringing teammates. We should pack the house. ”
“I didn’t do that, Kourt. You did. I looked him up, by the way. He is huge.”
I can’t stop this grin. “You actually took the time to look up something about basketball?”
“Yes. I’m excited to come to your game Friday.”
“Nice.”
“Ellis asked me.” I choke on my last swallow. The hairs on the back of neck prickle to life. What can I say? Not a damned thing.
As Walter’s place comes into view, Erika breaks the silence. “You’ve been quiet.”
“Got nothing to say.”
It’s been a long twenty minutes.
To her credit, she doesn’t push it. “We’re here.” She jumps out. Before I can get the truck turned off, she’s in the back seat, fishing out a box of homemade cookies, no doubt.
As we walk to Walter’s front door, it hits me.
She’s seeing this place for the first time in daylight.
His house is surrounded by his trees. Fraser firs to the left, Eastern white pines on the right.
God knows how many acres he still keeps, and it looks like, all this time, even though he hasn’t been selling trees, he’s been keeping them trimmed.
He’s also kept the house up. Keeping busy since his wife died. That’s what widowers and widows do. They’ve got to go on living, so they stay busy.
Walter walks onto the porch before we reach it, watching us.
Unlike the first night, Erika says nothing.
“I expected you yesterday,” Walter calls, a little too gruff.
“That was my fault. I had an emergency. Sorry.”
“Carol?”
He’s heard.
“She alright?” he asks.
“Yeah, she’s okay. Didn’t break anything.” I tilt my head at Erika. “She saved the day.”
“That’s what I hear.” Walter keeps an eagle eye on the woman at my side.
Erika hasn’t said a word.
“Whatcha’ got there?” he asks, and this time he’s smiling.
“I brought you a real present this time.” She holds out her box.
“Homemade?”
She smiles back at him with a smile that would thaw anyone’s heart. “Absolutely. My favorites, just for you, Mr. Miller.”
“Walter.” He tilts his head. “Come on in.” He holds the door open for her and points in the direction. “Put ’em on the table over there. I thank you.”
The house smells like fifty years of secondhand smoke. But it’s as clean inside as it is outside. A board and batten house with cedar shakes in the gables. A deep porch across the front.
“Well?” Walter never was one for small talk. He cuts right to it without offering us a seat.
Erika hangs her head a moment, staring at the plank floor, then brings her eyes to meet his. “I understand you normally do the Calling of the Bears out here. On Whispering Bear Mountain.” I don’t hear fear in her voice.
“Yes, the cave on the backside of the mountain.”
She clears her throat, cuts her eyes up at me, and back to Walter. “Would it be possible, this one year, to do it in a cave in town? Or nearer to town?” She glances up at me. “Much nearer town?”
Walter’s mouth tweaks to the side as he stares a hole into her. His gaze shifts to meet mine, and I give him a nod.
Before he can answer, she pleads, “It would mean so much for the town to get to commemorate The Calling of The Bears this winter solstice with you, this special holiday season where Blitzen found its way back to Christmas.”
He coughs into his hand, and I swear I see tears in his eyes. Jeez-us . She’s good. And I think, no… I know she means it.
“There’s a cave on the outskirts of Blitzen,” Walter offers.
Oh, shit.
“You mean Devil’s Lantern Cavern?” They both hear my surprise and snap to me.
Walter rubs his hand over his chin. “Only one I know of, in Blitzen.”
It’s supposed to be haunted.
“Devil’s Lantern?” Erika looks and sounds like he just invited her to a séance. “That doesn’t sound…” She hesitates, looking back and forth between me and Walter. “Christmasy. Or Calling of the Bears-y.” She punctuates it with a big, defeated sigh.
“Some people call it Angel’s Hollow,” Walter offers.
Her face lights up.
I’ve never heard it called that.
“Are you sure?” she asks with a big smile.
“Yeah.” Walter saunters over to the box and opens it, peering in. A second later, he’s stuffing a big green Christmas cookie into his mouth. “That’s good.” He’s still chewing.
Erika’s smile spreads across her face. “Pistachio.” She claps her hands together, like in a prayer. “Does that mean we can do the Calling of the Bears ceremony at Angel’s Hollow?”
She and Walter have officially renamed Devil’s Lantern Cavern to Angel’s Hollow.
“I guess. For this special occasion.”
Erika looks up at me with so much hope in her eyes, she makes me think of a kid looking up at Santa Claus. Or the Tooth Fairy. The Easter Bunny. Whoever will make her dream come true.
She’s full of bite and wit one minute, then—irresistible. “Do you mind taking me to see it? To figure out how we get people up there?”
I grumble. It’s hard not to think of her fucking fondness for the football coach right now. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask why she doesn’t ask him—
“Come on, Kourt.” She smiles up at me like she thinks I’m going to refuse her. As if I ever have.
I wink at Walter, where she can’t see. Screw it . “Sure you don’t want to ask Ellis?”
Her mouth falls open.
I glance outside. “The ceremony’s at dusk. Let’s go if you want to see what it’ll look like for the ceremony.”
“I’ll be right behind you.” Walter shoves another cookie in his mouth and grabs his truck keys. “I need to get gas. Don’t go in without me.”