CHAPTER 13
Abigail
Abigail’s chest ached.
Mr. Bell had responded to her call with all the frenzied speed of a person determined to find someone else to blame for the situation. He had bustled up in record time, puffed full of disbelief that the situation was as bad a she had described, and more than ready to tear her down for wasting his time. When he saw the water dripping down the walls and ceiling, his eyes had narrowed to angry slits.
Then, to her surprise, he’d clambered up into the crawlspace himself to see where the water was coming in. His discovery that the nephew he’d employed to set up the Christmas display had attached it by driving nails through the roof had stoked his fury to boiling point— but he hadn’t directed it at Abigail.
Instead, Mr. Bell had clapped her on the shoulder, and actually thanked her for reporting the problem.
She watched him stump off, feeling like her insides had been scooped out. He hadn’t yelled at her. He hadn’t even growled. She’d been ready for either— both— waiting on edge for the situation to devolve into painful accusations and recriminations.
But… nothing. And instead of feeling relieved, Abigail felt sick. She had freaked out for nothing. Jasper probably thought she was a psycho, and he was right.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She wrapped her arms around herself and hurried out into the square. It was past two in the morning, and town was empty; even most of the Christmas lights had been switched off. If she squinted, she could pretend it was only the streetlights illuminating the cold square. Pretend that it wasn’t Christmas at all.
Abigail stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets. There was no sign of Jasper.
Like you really thought he’d stick around, she berated herself. It had been an hour since she told him to leave. Why the hell would he have stayed? Face it. You ruined this, just like you ruin everything.
Her fingers brushed against something deep in her coat pocket. Her cell phone. For just a moment, she considered calling him. They had exchanged numbers that morning.
God, was it only this morning? Abigail shook her head. It felt like eternity ago. That’s what happens when you screw everything up. The world splits into before— and after, when you can’t change anything.
She left her phone in her pocket, telling herself there was no point calling him; he was probably halfway back to his family’s home by now.
Abigail shivered as a lingering drop of snowmelt made its way down her neck. She sighed. The real reason she wasn’t calling him was that she was afraid. She’d driven him away; what if he didn’t even pick up the phone?
Better not to know, than to confirm that he didn’t want anything to do with her.
* * *
24 DECEMBER
CHRISTMAS EVE
For the first few moments after she woke up, Abigail didn’t know what was wrong. Then she rolled over and opened her eyes.
Oh.
She was alone in bed. That was it.
Abigail sat up, blinking until her eyes cleared. Her alarm was blaring, and she turned it off, resisting the urge to throw it across the room.
She’d only woken up with Jasper beside her three times. And she’d known the whole time, every minute of every day, that it was going to end badly. And now it had. So why was she so upset?
Jasper’s face flashed into her mind. The look in his eyes when she told him to leave, like she’d slapped him. The way he’d marched off, not even looking back at her, as though he was desperate to get away from her.
Bitterness rose up in her throat. Of course he wouldn’t look back. Not after the way you talked to him. He probably thinks you’re a psycho. Freaking out about your stupid workplace—
Her skin flushed cold. The shop. She gritted her teeth and fisted her hands so hard her knuckles went white, trying to force the wave of anxiety back. See? Freaking out. Like a psycho.
Abigail took a deep breath, reminding herself that she had called Mr. Bell after Jasper left. You mean, after you drove him away. She winced.
She quickly checked her phone. No messages. Nothing from Mr. Bell, which meant she should hurry and get in to work as usual.
And nothing from Jasper.
She waited until she had herself mostly under control, and then stomped through to the bathroom and turned the shower on. The water blasted against her head and shoulders, knocking her thoughts even further out of order.
Nothing about this is a surprise. You knew it wasn’t going to last, and you knew you were going to be the reason it all fell to pieces. So just deal with it. You know what to do. Back into the routine. Back to work. Forget all about—
Abigail banged her forehead against the shower wall. Damn it, damn it, damn it…
By the time she stepped out of the shower, skin stinging from the hot water, her mind was a boiling fog of unhappiness. Her only saving grace was that with no message from management, she had to assume work was open. If the shop was closed today… hell, she didn’t know what she would do.
She took a deep breath. “As if Mr. Bell would ever close the store on Christmas Eve,” she reassured herself. Her voice sounded thin in the steaming bathroom and she shook her head. Christmas was their top sales month. Even if the roof completely disintegrated, Mr. Bell would have her and Carol hand-selling mass-produced knick-knacks from the side of the road. It was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine.
Except her and Jasper. Which she shouldn’t even be upset about. She’d only known him for a few days. It wasn’t a big deal. Shit.
As she scrubbed herself dry, something caught the corner of her eye. Abigail sighed. Part of her was glad of the distraction, but part of her…
“Why didn’t I throw you away that first night?” she grumbled at the kitten plushie she had “rescued” from the shop roof the night she met Jasper. It was sitting on top of the washer, which was pushed into an out-of-the-way corner while it wasn’t in use.
A gentle cycle in her washer, a few days drip-drying in the shower and half an hour under her hairdryer had somehow made it look even more pathetic. Its fur was fluffy, but its stuffing had shrunk, giving it a floppy, depressed look. Plus, it still only had the one eye… and she hadn’t gotten around to sewing its leg back on.
Abigail’s stomach flipped over as she wondered briefly if Jasper had seen it one of the nights he’d been here— God, that would have been embarrassing.
She shook herself. As if that matters now. You’re probably never going to see him again.
She pulled her clothes on quickly. The toy should have gone straight in the garbage. She didn’t know what she was thinking, trying to fix it up. She snatched it up and marched back through to the kitchenette.
Abigail paused, holding the kitten plushie over the garbage bin. One bead-eye glittered back at her. Her chest twisted.
“Damn it,” she muttered, and threw the toy onto the countertop. It skidded to stop next to her handbag. “I can’t even throw out a stupid toy? What the hell is wrong with me?”
She checked the clock. Half an hour to opening… if the shop was going to open again. Anxiety gnawed at her stomach.
* * *
“What do you mean, the shop isn’t opening today?”
Abigail pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, trying to block out the icy wind that was whipping through the town square. Mr. Bell huffed at her, his white cloud of breath racing away on the air. He gestured up at the shop, where bright DO NOT CROSS streamers had been plastered over the Christmas tinsel.
“Isn’t safe, Abby-babby.” Abigail winced at the nickname, but Mr. Bell chuckled to himself, not noticing. “We’ve been completely banned from setting foot in the place until the builders can get in properly and check it out.”
“But it’s Christmas Eve!”
Mr. Bell laughed again and slapped Abigail on the shoulder. “Would you believe it! My first Christmas Eve off in twenty years.” He sighed happily and patted Abigail on the shoulder again grinning. “All because you were working late, eh? That deserves a bonus! Now, stop sulking, and enjoy your day off!”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked off, whistling. Abigail stared after him. She wasn’t imagining it. Mr. Bell, who in all the time she’d worked for him seemed to only have two emotional settings— “grumpy” and “furious”— was actually whistling. And when he’d smiled at her, she didn’t have the feeling he was holding himself back from biting her head off.
Have I wandered into the Twilight Zone? Abigail wondered, and shivered. Twilight Zone or not, it was still Christmas Eve. And she wasn’t going to wait around for it to get any worse.
Her first stop was the grocery store. What with Jasper— she grimaced— well, what with everything, she hadn’t managed to do her usual prep shopping earlier in the week. If she kept her head down, she didn’t have to see all the shoppers on their last-minute food runs. That didn’t save her from hearing them, though. Parents, grandparents, children— all half-frazzled and half-drunk with the joy of the season.
In the frozen section, Abigail grabbed blindly at ready-meals, not bothering to check what she was piling into her basket. So long as it was food, that was good enough.
There was a big display of red wine at the end of the aisle. The bottles had little packets of mulling spices taped to their necks. Abigail swallowed.
No. I’m not going back to that so-called solution. My Christmas System is best when it doesn’t include getting blind drunk. Anyway… She blinked hard. Mulled wine just made her think of Jasper, now, and going sledding with those adorable dogs. She put her head down and headed for the checkouts.
Voices pressed in on her as she waited in line. She looked down, focusing on the armful of frozen meals in her basket, but couldn’t help overhearing other shoppers’ conversations. She was almost at the front of the queue when the older woman in front of her gave a cry of delight and reached past her to greet someone further back.
“Jeanine! Shopping again?”
Abigail could practically feel the other woman’s smile lasering into the back of her head. “Yes! You know, we had almost given up hope that Jared would be home for Christmas, but guess who turned up this morning?”
“Oh, how lovely! You’ll have the whole family together!”
The shopping basket handle was cutting into Abigail’s fingers.
“I was worried for a while that he wouldn’t come, how silly of me! Jared loves his family far too much to leave us all alone at Christmas. And you should just see the presents he’s brought…”
Abigail felt like her head was in a vice. She glanced up at the front of the queue. “The checkout’s free,” she muttered, hoping the older woman would take the hint and hurry to the counter. Her tongue felt thick and clumsy, and her ears were buzzing.
If I have to listen to another minute of happy families, I’m going to scream, she thought desperately.
“Oh— dear?” Someone tapped her shoulder. “Are you all right? You’re looking a little peaky.”
Abigail looked up. The older woman was staring into her face, looking concerned.
“I’m fine,” Abigail said quickly. Her voice was more of a snarl, and she had to clear her throat. Damn it. This is why I always do my shopping early… “Look, there’s a checkout free up there—”
“You take my space, dear, while I talk to my friend.”
Who does that woman think she is? Abigail fumed to herself as she stalked down the cold streets. Rubbing it in everyone’s faces that, oh, her husband or son or whatever would travel a thousand miles to see her for Christmas— and Mr. Bell? I’ve worked for him for how many years, and he’s—
She came to a stop outside her apartment building, suddenly exhausted. He’s giving me a day off. Which most people would see as a good thing. And that woman at the shop was just excited. And she let you cut ahead in line. Her shoulders slumped. She was just excited. And Mr. Bell was excited, too. He’s worked every Christmas Eve same as you have. He’s probably looking forward to spending it… with his family…
All the events of the last twenty-four hours came crashing down on her like an avalanche, thick and heavy and suffocating. She pushed through the front door and sagged against the inside wall, panting. Was this really what she’d turned into? Someone who saw the worst in people, even when they’d done nothing but be nice to her?
This is why you have the System, she reminded herself, trying to corral her fluttering emotions. The Christmas System. Work, and sleep, and don’t talk to anyone, don’t see anyone, because you’re not worth being around at Christmas.
A hole opened up in her chest, which was stupid, because she knew all of this. Telling it to herself was meant to calm her down. Make her understand she had everything under control. Not make her feel like her body was about to split into a million pieces.
Just keep yourself out of the way. That’s the best option. That way no one gets disappointed.
She took a shaky breath and fumbled with the latch on her mailbox.
You don’t get disappointed when no one shows up for you. And no one else gets disappointed, when they see you.
The mailbox clattered open. Why was she even bothering? She wasn’t expecting anything. She’d cancelled all her subscriptions over the holidays, and it wasn’t like she got any mail that wasn’t someone trying to sell her something. No one wants to put up with you. You don’t deserve anyone.
She paused, her heart pounding her in ears. There was something in her mailbox. A piece of white card.
Probably a message from the landlord, she told herself, but something fluttered in her chest. Before she could stop herself, she reached up.
She was still wearing her gloves. Her fingers shouldn’t have tingled as she picked up the card, not unless she was in the early stages of frostbite. But they did. And when she saw what it was, her breath caught in her throat.
Jasper’s Christmas card.
A troupe of huskies grinned up at her from the front of the card, cheery Christmas-cracker hats perched on their heads. Merry Christmas! was scrawled in tinsel underneath them, and behind them, the mountains went on forever.
Her fingers tightened. She didn’t want to turn it over. No. She did, and she didn’t. Her hand trembled with tension.
Just read it. What’s the worst that can happen?
Before she could answer her own question, she flipped the card over and all the breath left her body.
Dear Abigail,
I know you don’t like Christmas. But I’m hoping that by the time this arrives, I’ve managed to bring you around. And that I’m watching you read this, waiting for you to scowl at me, with that little smile that means you’re not really mad. Merry Christmas.
All my love,
Jasper
The rest of the world disappeared. Abigail read the postcard again, frantically, half-expecting the words to disappear if she looked at them too closely. But they didn’t. This wasn’t a dream. It was real.
And even though it wasn’t a dream, she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder. Jasper wasn’t there, of course. He wasn’t watching her read his card, like he’d wanted to be. Abigail’s chest twisted.
I really fucked that up, huh?
She groaned and banged her head against the rack of mailboxes. She knew she shouldn’t have read the card. It was just another reminder of how everything she touched went wrong.
The metal mailboxes were cool against her forehead. She closed her eyes. I’m hoping that by the time this arrives, I’ve managed to bring you around… And, the truth was, he almost had. All those perfect dates. The terrible egg-nog. Ice-skating under the stars. And the dogsledding, that magical adventure in the glittering midnight forest. Mulled wine and stew in front of a frozen lake.
She frowned. Perfect dates? They’d all turned out well, but… that egg-nog had been revolting. And she’d fallen asleep on the sled-ride. She couldn’t imagine that had been part of Jasper’s plan.
Just like discovering the roof about to fall in wasn’t part of yours.
Abigail’s chest went tight. She’d let that one discovery set off an avalanche in her mind, turning a setback into a disaster. As though— she winced.
Admit it. You’ve been waiting for something to go wrong the whole week, and the moment it did, you ran with it. It was almost a relief, wasn’t it? You saw the worst possible outcome, and you kicked it off. You set off that avalanche.
But it didn’t feel like relief, now. She didn’t feel like she’d escaped disaster, like she’d found a way to protect herself from being hurt. She felt empty.
Abigail looked down at the postcard in her hand. Jasper’s first few attempts to reach out to her hadn’t been flawless, but he hadn’t let that frighten him off. So even though her first attempt to reach back had gone so wrong, maybe… just maybe…
Her skin flushed hot and cold. She couldn’t do this. A lifetime of experience couldn’t be wrong, could it? It was pointless to hope that anyone wanted her at Christmas. She could reach out all she wanted, and be left to fall alone.
She gripped the postcard so hard it bent in her fingers. Biting her lip, Abigail carefully smoothed it out.
She had spent the last ten years making sure she didn’t have to reach out to anybody. She looked after herself, and didn’t need anyone else.
She survived, but that was all. And Jasper had shown her there was more to life than just surviving.