5. “If The Fates Allow”
five
“If The Fates Allow”
I still can’t get over this quaint Christmas town… well, soon-to-be back to its Christmas roots Christmas town when Josie’s decorations get done with it. It’s beyond picturesque. There’s something in the air here that’s whimsical. It’s peaceful, but with a vibrant current of anticipation.
Maybe it’s the smell of those evergreens, or the mountain roads, so secluded until they unwind into a neighbor’s drive, or—perfect for me, the much-needed hardware store.
No wonder Helen didn’t have more explicit instructions. It’s right here, the first store on Main Street. My cassette tape comes on out of the blue, switching to track three.
I know it’s the faulty, 1980s tape deck causing it to glitch, jam, or just play the tape whenever it feels like it. But I’m totally subscribing to the fate thing.
In true Great Aunt Josie fashion, and just because it’s Christmas, I believe this holiday mixtape was made for me. “Have yourself a Merry little Christmas” begins to play, and my holiday senses perk up.
A sweet hum vibrates from deep within my throat as it pushes its way out of my smiling face by the second verse. Judy Garland’s version from Meet Me in St. Louis —this is my favorite of the classics. It’s wild to me, it’s been so long since I really listened, much less sang it.
My hand rests on the door handle, and I hesitate before popping out of the Beetle. It’s as if I don’t want to leave the vicinity of the song playing. What if the cassette doesn’t play when I start it up again?
I roll my eyes at myself and shrug, choosing to be sane and exit the vehicle. Only after applying the emergency brake, of course. Check.
Bells jingle in the hardware store, announcing my entry. It’s not busy at all for a Saturday. I might be the only customer so far. Familiar holiday music segues to a chorus as I get my bearings and determine which aisle to peruse.
“Hi, there.” A male’s voice calls out warmly from the front. He lifts up one of those wooden partitions separating the counter from the customer and greets me.
“Hi. I’m looking for—” I stall, my head lifting up to the overhead music playing the chorus of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
“I’m so sorry, but that’s the same song playing on my tape. The tape in my car. When I got out, it was playing in almost the same spot.”
“Ah.” His eyes smile at me. He’s my mom’s age, give or take, and seems very patient and kind. He must be the owner. He tilts his head to the side and takes a few slow steps closer to me, studying my face.
“I sure sound nutty. I just... It’s a favorite of mine.”
“Mine too. It’s a favorite in my family. Brings back a lot of memories. Forgive me—but you… you’re… something about you reminds me of someone.”
A long moment passes, and my eyes remain transfixed on those of the kind man still studying me as the shop bell jingles again.
The shop owner continues to stare at me, almost in a daze. “You’re not from around here, are you?” He almost seems disappointed as he says it. Then his eyes rise much higher, above my head, and I feel a hand press against my upper back.
“No, Bob. She’s not from around here.” It’s Kourt standing beside me, joining my almost ethereal moment with the man keeping the hardware store. His hand is warm on my back, and he doesn’t move away.
I turn to see Kourt look up toward the speaker on the ceiling where the music is coming from, as if he, too, has some connection to my favorite Christmas song. Although, as the man said, I suppose it’s most everyone’s favorite.
“Erika.” Kourt looks down at me, forcing me to crane my neck to look up at him. His eyes are pleading with mine in a way I’m not sure I understand, but I can tell they’re asking me to try.
“This is Bob. He owns this fine establishment.” Kourt is speaking curiously slow as if he’s trying to calm a stray animal. “And, Bob, this is Erika, Josephine Amherst’s great niece.”
We stay standing this way, side by side, facing Bob.
Kourt is seemingly waiting for Bob’s reply. His palm slides toward my shoulder blade on one side, as if to make me more comfortable or let me know this awkward moment will soon end.
Goose bumps trickle down that side of my body and I shift my stance involuntarily to compensate.
“Josephine! Well, why the heck didn’t you say so? Hot dog.” Bob snaps out of his Christmas song-induced trance and claps his hands in excitement. His solemn face and glossy eyes have changed back into the store owner who originally greeted me.
“Yeah. Just arrived yesterday or so. Helen’s got her all settled.
” Kourt’s speech has sped back up, and his expression has also returned to what I can assume is normal for him.
All things have returned to normal when I feel his large heavy hand lift from my back.
Funny, I almost feel more uncomfortable with his hand gone than I did when it was on me.
“We’ve been looking forward to your arrival, Erika. Now what had you pop in?”
“Extension cords. Very long. Three prongs.”
“Aisle two. Go ahead and take a look, and holler if you need me. And Kourt. What brought you in here on your day off?”
“Your wife.”
I hear Kourt’s response from down the aisle where I hover over brown, black, and orange extension cords that won’t match what I’m trying to hide them behind.
“And your canned goods. Georgia sent me for more hooks for the side of the house. I think we’re good on the light strands. They all seem to work so far. I can see your donation box is already full. You guys are toppling over.” Kourt continues his conversation.
“You’re not kidding. We’ve got another full box in the back.”
“I’ll take ’em.”
“Excuse me, Bob? Do you know if there are any white, red or green extension cords available?”
“I was afraid of that. My new order hasn’t come in yet, and the town over cleaned me out of white ones last week. I’ve got no red, but Fisher’s might.”
“Fisher’s? In what town exactly?” I pull out my phone to plop this place in my maps.
“No, ma’am. Not in your car.” Kourt scolds me as if he’s the old timer behind the register.
“Oh. She’s in Josie’s Bug, I take.” Bob shakes his head knowingly.
“You guessed it.” Kourt reassures him.
“Yeah, they’ve got snow-covered hills up that way, even though nothing’s hit here yet. That’s not for your Beetle, I assure you. Kourt? Why don’t you drive Erika here to Fisher’s? She can help you with the second box of cans.”
“Oh, I think she’s helped plenty with the can drive.”
“Nonsense. Georgia won’t mind. I’ll call her and tell her you had to run an errand for me.
I actually do need you to pick up her clips for me.
Out of those, too, until the shipment comes in.
Just give me a sec, and I’ll grab that other box of cans from the back.
” Bob trots off, and I feel the annoyed energy between us as Kourt and I stare straight ahead.
After a beat he huffs, but I open my mouth to speak first. “Look, you don’t have to take me. Helen can drive me some other time or something I—”
“I have to. Bob’s making me.” Kourt bites out without looking at me.
“Making you? What are you—five?” I turn toward him, truly curious.
“No. Just afraid Santa will put me on the naughty list if I pout and refuse.” Kourt brings a fake, almost sardonic smile to life as he turns his head to look at me. “That, and we’ve got to keep you off the roads as much as possible. Can’t have you taking out the town before our big vote.”
Kourt slams his tailgate shut after the last box of cans slides onto the truck bed.
I almost encounter PTSD from the multiple cans of cream corn staring up at me in the box I carted.
I look back as Bob waves us off with a bright smile.
Mine fades, and my lips press together in wicked curiosity as I watch Kourt saunter to the driver’s side of his truck.
What? Am I just supposed to get in?
A key fob clicks and the doors unlock with a beep.
“Get in.”
Reaching for the passenger side, I catch him pausing to look over at me from outside the truck cab. He’s tall enough to stare over his truck bed right through me.
I stall before opening the door. “Look, I mean it. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than chauffer your attempted murderer.”
“I do. Starting with hanging Georgia’s Christmas lights, and Pops says he’s out of hooks so—”
“Who?” I shout back at him, confused from across the truck and freezing my rear off.
“Bob. I mean Bob. It’s his lights I’m hanging, too.
He and Georgia’s house.” Kourt looks down and away from me a moment.
As if we should go no further than we already have in this conversation.
As if he’s contemplating whether to let me in his truck or not.
“Bob’s as good as gold. If it felt odd back there… with the song… it wasn’t you, it—”
“Oh. I wasn’t—going to ask.” I shake my head with a slight, reassuring smile. “It’s an iconic song.” I say it loud and firm, my voice carrying across the large truck. “It’s significant to a number of people, if not everyone’s favorite, a close second.” I nod again like I’m in some western movie.
Kourt nods back. A twinkle in his eye inspects my face. So curious.
“It’s settled then. You’ll get your pink and purple extension cords, and I’ll get their clips.”
“Red. I need red and green.”
“Right. Two birds with one stone, see?”
He slides into the driver’s side with ease as I open my door, mumbling back, “Like the way I nearly took you and the food drive both out with my Beetle.”
I’m not positive, but I think I catch the remnants of a chuckle on his end as I climb into the passenger seat.
“I’m pretty sure that was more like—one fell swoop. At least, you’re more of one anyway. You nearly took me and the town’s Christmas can drive out in ‘one fell swoop’.” The corners of his lips rise into a smile as the ignition starts.
Kourt reverses out of his parking space as he fiddles with the heat. I blow on my hands, rubbing them together as I reach for my gloves in my purse and force my stiff fingers through them.
We pull up to the bottom of the drive. His turn signal ticking makes the sounds of the truck and everyday errands the most natural thing on the planet between two strangers, only I feel his eyes back on me while we’re stopped.
I refuse to entertain looking in his direction, but I can guarantee it’s a stare in combination with a sly smile.
I don’t even know him—but I know that look of his already. And why does it send a cascade of heat erupting in my belly and shivers down my spine?
Does he make me nervous? Well sure. Almost kill someone with your car and then have them offer to drive you somewhere… I suppose that would make anyone a little on edge.
“Seat belt.”
“Huh?” I turn toward Kourt, my eyes wide with question over what he just said, when a large chest bulldozes my face.
My senses fill with cedar, nutmeg and—stone?
What earthy embodiment other than the cool rocks that line the ocean shore or cover the bottom of a riverbed smell like that?
Fresh, natural, clean, and solid. I duck my head away and toward the large arm crossing my body until I hear a loud click.
Kourt’s hand is an inch from my hip when I look back up to his face that’s now an inch away from mine. I was right about “the look” of his. Honey-colored eyes, with a slight green hue stare into my blinking lashes, complete with his sly devilish grin.
“Seat belt.”
The accelerator brings the truck to life once more as he turns onto Main Street, heading away from Blitzen.