A Slice of Christmas Magic Read online

  I was afraid to wander too far away from the car because the last thing I needed was to get lost in the woods. I never watched those survival shows closely enough, and I didn’t know how to do things like start a fire or find clean water and food. Lena told me once that there was a spell to start fires, but Aunt Erma refused to teach it to me. Probably because of the one time, okay two times, I’d almost burned down the pie shop. These things could happen to anyone.

  I wearily drove back to the pie shop, my stomach swirling with the anxiety of failure.

  Chapter 11

  Dear Elodie,

  Three years ago, I lost my husband in a car accident. I miss him every day, and it’s a thousand times worse at the holidays. I have a friend who regularly texts me pictures of her and her husband doing different things, especially around the holidays. Her and her husband with Santa, her and her husband on a sleigh ride, her and her husband skiing. Every picture she sends crushes my spirit a little more, and I get stuck dwelling on how I can’t do those things with my husband.

  I don’t think she knows what her pictures are doing to me, but I don’t know how to stop her from sending them to me without seeming rude and bitter.

  For the past two years, every time we’re together, she tells me about the latest guy she’s met that she wants to set me up with. I try to tell her I’m not ready, but she just brushes it off, saying I don’t know what’s good for me.

  We’ve been friends for a long time. She was really there for me after my husband died. I still miss my husband, and I’m not ready to meet someone new yet.

  How do I handle this situation? Do I just need to toughen up?

  Sincerely,

  Single and Not Ready to Mingle

  Dear Single and Not Ready to Mingle,

  It sounds like your friend’s heart might be in the right place, but her actions definitely leave a little to be desired. You said she’s a good friend. She probably sees your unhappiness and is trying to fix it. That is certainly easier said than done. Try to sit down with your friend, and have a frank conversation about how her actions are affecting you. Tell her that you’re very happy for her, but you’re still struggling, and her pictures and constant matchmaking attempts aren’t helping. You will find someone if and when you’re ready to.

  You asked if you need to toughen up. The answer is no. Your grief isn’t on anyone else’s schedule. However, if you’re feeling like the weight of this all is too heavy, you should really seek counseling. A counselor might help you deal with your grief, especially during the holidays. There are also a lot of support groups out there with people who are feeling the same way you are.

  Ask and I’ll Answer,

  Elodie

  Mr. Barnes was the first of the Morning Pie Crew through the door the next day. The morning rush had come and gone, people rushing in to pick up their pies for whatever holiday event they had going on that day, and I had just finished wiping off the front tables.

  Aunt Erma was still spilling all of her secrets, but at least her frantic rearranging had stopped. We had been telling people that she had the flu so word wouldn’t get out that she was under a bad spell. I think people were buying it too. Three people had brought in soup for her and another four had brought in their “special elixirs”.

  We had managed to focus Aunt Erma on the great task of organizing photos for photo albums. She had boxes and boxes of pictures in her closet. A couple weeks ago she had gone digging in her closet for a stuffed monkey I had given her when I was five, and she’d knocked over a tall stack of boxes. Pictures had spilled out onto the floor, and Aunt Erma and I had shoved them back into the boxes haphazardly and stacked them back up. When I told her that she could scan them all so they’d be available digitally, she looked at me as if I’d grown a second head.

  She seemed content with sorting the photos by date, so we left her upstairs with her very diligent guard dog, Mitzy, while my mother and I worked in the pie shop.

  Mr. Barnes didn’t greet me with his usual wide smile, but he gave me a hug and squeezed me tightly.

  “You’re probably busy. I’ll just sit here with the paper.”

  “I’m never too busy for you,” I said, carrying two coffees out to the table where he was sitting.

  He smiled. I set a steaming mug in front of him. His eyes looked a little watery through his glasses and he sniffed a couple times before taking a sip of coffee.

  “What’s on your mind today?” I asked.

  “This time of year …” He trailed off. “I love it, and I hate it. My wife loved it.”

  A tear fell down his cheek, and I swallowed hard trying to keep any from coming to me. I knew he had been married. Flora had told me once. I knew his wife had died ten years ago, but I didn’t know much more than that. Mr. Barnes didn’t talk about her often. I think it was too painful. I’d never asked him questions because I didn’t want to seem nosy and upset him. Today he was in the mood to talk though.

  “I still have all the boxes of decorations that she used to put all over our house, but I can’t use them.” He stared into his coffee. “I’ve tried taking them out of the storage room before, but every time I do, all the memories come rushing back. Happy memories, you know.” He looked at me, blinking a few times.

  I nodded.

  “But then the sadness hits harder than ever, and I usually shove the boxes back in the room until the next year when I do it all over again.”

  “The holidays can be tough,” I said, thinking of my dad. I always thought about him this time of year. About what the holidays would be like if he were still here. They had always felt so empty after he died. Probably because that marked our separation with Aunt Erma too. With the four of us, the house had always been bustling and happy, but when it had been just the two of us, me and my mother, it had felt empty and quiet. That was what I remembered most. How quiet it had been. Even when we’d played Christmas music on the radio, it had never been loud enough to cover up the quiet. My mother had tried to make up for it. She really had, but I knew she was sad too. Sometimes she’d invited people to celebrate with us, but it had usually just reminded us that we were celebrating with the wrong people. The last few years had been a little better as Josh had joined us for the holidays when he couldn’t get home to his family in Texas. He’d filled some of the quiet.

  “I just can’t figure out why the universe took her away, but left me behind.”

  “I’m sure your wife was amazing, but you’re amazing too.” I reached over and put my hand on top of his. “It doesn’t always make sense.”

  “She would have loved you,” he said. “With magic we’re even closer to the other side than most people are. Do you feel that more now?”

  “Maybe. Sometimes. A little,” I said.

  “You should come to my yoga class on Thursday nights,” he said. “We go deep into meditation. That’s when I feel closest to my wife. Maybe you would feel closer to your dad too.”

  “I’ll try that,” I said. “I like the idea of being closer to him. I wonder if I could get my mother to come.”

  “I’ve worked hard trying to get her to come to my classes. So far, she’s refused. Sometimes with fairly colorful language. She is the definition of someone who could use yoga in her life,” he said.

  “I do not disagree with that statement,” I said with a chuckle. I looked at him for a minute. He was staring at a spot on the table. His lip was quivering. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

  He met my gaze. His eyes were full of tears now. Mine were too.

  “I’m sorry about your dad.”

  I hugged Mr. Barnes, and we both cried for a minute together. When he pulled away, he told me a joke about fish, and I told him a joke about doughnuts. We were laughing and on our second cup of coffee by the time the rest of the Morning Pie Crew arrived.

  ***

  Later in the day, my mother was in the kitchen rearranging the fridge. She had everything out on the counter and was sorting things by item and expira
tion date. Aunt Erma sat at the desk in the back of the kitchen and made a paperclip chain. “I’m going to take Aunt Erma out to run an errand with me,” I told her. “Trust me, it’s important,” I added when my mother started to protest.

  “Why would you take her with you?” she pressed.

  “Because I need her for this errand,” I said. I studied a bag of apples on the counter.

  “It seems reckless to take her out in her condition.”

  “I drank straight out of that milk carton,” Aunt Erma chimed in.

  “I’ll be careful,” I promised.

  “Are you taking anyone else with you?”

  I shook my head just as Aunt Erma nodded. She disappeared upstairs and returned moments later carrying Mitzy.

  “See? We’re all set. We have a guard dog.” I smiled angelically at my mother.

  She pursed her lips and let out a “hmph” sound in case by some miracle I had possibly missed her disapproval.

  “Okay, Aunt Erma,” I said once we were in the car. “Where is the magic tree?”

  “I don’t like this car,” she said.

  “I’m going to start driving, and maybe you can give me directions?”

  “I’ve only been in love once before.”

  I sighed. This had to work. The magic wasn’t wearing off, and I needed Aunt Erma back. As much as I wanted to learn about her life since we’d been apart for so long, I didn’t want to learn about it this way.

  I merged into traffic on the highway. It was busier than usual, probably with holiday travelers going to visit family. I was betting not too many people were searching for a magical tree to break a truth spell. I turned up the music to keep Aunt Erma from divulging too much about her love life again.

  “Is that the right exit?” I pointed to a sign at the side of the road.

  “One of my favorite words to try and say after a few glasses of wine is ‘colloquialism.’”

  “Come on, Aunt Erma, this is important!” My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. I took the exit, hoping the results would be different this time.

  Something in the rear-view mirror made me turn the radio off. It was a couple cars back, but there was no doubt it was the same dark green car that I had suspected was following me last time.

  “Oh no, what should I do?” I spoke under my breath. If it was the IMPs I didn’t want to lead them straight to the magic tree. What if it was just someone who lived off this exit? I didn’t want to abandon my mission for something as silly as that.

  “We should go home now,” Aunt Erma said.

  It was the first truly coherent thing she’d said since put under the spell.

  “But what about the tree?”

  “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of,” she said, looking at Mitzy.

  “What does that mean?” I started heading back toward Hocus Hills. I’d lost sight of the green car.

  “I don’t want you to ever find out.” We sat in silence for a minute before Aunt Erma reached over and turned up the radio. “This is my favorite song to dance naked to in my apartment,” she offered.

  I really had to figure out a way to break the spell.

  ***

  Mr. Barnes called to ask if I could come take a look at the heater in the yoga studio. I could practically hear him batting his eyelashes through the phone. I grabbed my tool bag and headed over there during a lull in the action at the pie shop. My mother had everything under control, and Aunt Erma seemed happy to be back at her task of sorting photos in the apartment.

  When I stepped inside the studio, I wasn’t greeted with the usual blast of warm air. Mr. Barnes was sitting in the corner watching television on his small flat-screen TV. He switched it off when I walked in.

  “I’m so glad you could come,” he said. “Lena tried to fix it, but she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. For the last week it’s been acting strangely. Sometimes it was running hot, sometimes it was running cold, and finally it just stopped running altogether. I’ve had to try to convince the classes the last couple days that this is a new kind of yoga. Lukewarm yoga instead of hot yoga. I don’t think they’re buying it.”

  “Hopefully I can get you back up and running,” I said. The heater was by the ceiling, and Mr. Barnes went to the closet to pull out a step stool for me. I climbed up and unscrewed the corners, so I could lift the front panel off.

  I got to work, and he made small talk. I usually liked to work alone, so I could focus, but I didn’t want to be rude and ask him to leave his own studio.

  “How’s your magical education going?” he asked.

  “It’s been a bit hit and miss.” I stepped off the stool to grab some pliers. “I seem to only get half the spells right. Everyone says I’m powerful, but apparently you can’t always make up for in power what you lack in knowledge.”

  “That’s very true.” Mr. Barnes had pulled a rag out of the closet and was dusting the shelves around the studio now.

  “Aunt Erma’s a patient teacher though.”

  “She’s a powerful woman too,” he said. “Does she ever talk about where her power comes from?”

  I hit the test button on the heater and hot air blew into my face. “I think I got you back up and running,” I said. I ignored his question and hoped he wouldn’t ask it again. Then I stepped down to get away from the hot air. I let it run for a minute, watching it closely for any signs that it might falter. I could feel Mr. Barnes watching me out of the corner of my eye. Once I was satisfied that the heater was fixed, I turned it off, grabbed the cover, and screwed it back in.

  “Do you think Aunt Erma expects me to stay in Hocus Hills?” I asked.

  He looked a little taken aback. “I don’t know if she expects anything from you, but I think she’d like you to stay.” I nodded, my brow furrowed as I tightened the last screw.

  He thanked me for my help as I headed out the door.

  “Will I see you for class tonight?” he asked hopefully.

  “I think so,” I said non-committally.

  After the steamy studio, the gust of cold air hit me hard as I stepped outside. I jogged back to the pie shop and burst in through the back door.

  My mother was standing inside next to the sink. She held the phone in one hand and her other hand was on her hip. I’d seen that stance before. It was never good. She hung up the phone and glared at me.

  “Hey, Mom,” I said cheerfully. “How’s Aunt Erma doing?”

  “I just talked to Nina, and she said you were offered a job at Top-Notch Construction,” she said accusingly.

  “How did she even know that?” I set down my tool bag at the edge of the desk at the back and poked at the pile of mail.

  “Her son-in-law is Buster’s daughter’s lawyer,” she said. “People talk.”

  Wow, and I thought that was just in small towns. “Yes, he offered me a job,” I said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  “Because I don’t know if I’m going to take it,” I said. I picked up a pen from a jar on the desk and twirled it between my fingers.

  “What do you mean? Of course, you’re going to take it.” She began furiously wiping down the counters.

  “I want more time here, with all of this.” I pointed my pen around the kitchen.

  “You can come here and visit.”

  “You know, some people might consider a thirty-two-year-old to be old enough to make her own decisions.”

  “Some thirty-two-year-olds would make the right decisions.” She was now scrubbing an imaginary spot on the counter so hard, I thought she might hurt herself.

  I opened my mouth, about to say something completely rational and profound, but Mitzy began barking before I could speak. I ran upstairs, my mother close behind me. We burst through the door.

  “Aunt Erma, what’s wrong?” I asked breathlessly.

  “She has to go outside.” She pointed at Mitzy, not even glancing up from her pictures. My mother and I looked at each other for a minute. Our fight would
have to be put on hold. I took Mitzy outside.

  ***

  That evening, I stepped inside the yoga studio for the meditation class. All my shivering muscles relaxed in the warmth. I was happy but not surprised the heater was still working. I looked over at Mr. Barnes, and he gave me a thumbs-up. I began to shed all the layers I had put on over my leggings and tank top. Only four of us had signed up for the class. The two other women worked at the Mexican restaurant. I think the man had come into the pie shop once or twice. I recognized his wavy blond hair and easy smile. The other three looked a lot calmer than I felt. Mr. Barnes had lit candles around the room. There was soothing guitar music playing softly.

  “Everyone go ahead and grab your yoga mat and sit down,” he said. “Be close to your neighbors. You can feed off each other’s energies.” I rolled out my yoga mat in the far corner.

  I had been to some of Mr. Barnes’s yoga classes before, but this time I felt an anxious fluttering in my stomach. When I came to the regular yoga classes, I accepted that I was going to make a fool of myself. I’d try to do the tree pose, then yell “Timber,” and fall to the ground. Then I would spend most of the class dreaming about the part at the end when we’d get to lie on the floor.

  The stakes were higher this time. This time I wanted to feel closer to my dad.

  Mr. Barnes began to walk us through some gentle stretches and breathing exercises. I really wished I hadn’t had three cups of coffee before coming here. I could feel my feet twitching even after he had told us to lie down on our backs perfectly still on our mats.

  “Just stop all movement.” I heard his voice closer to me. I curled my toes, scolding them for their unruly behavior. “Deep breath in and begin to feel all your tension slide out of your body.”

  I took the breath in and slowly let it out. Hey, it was working. I felt some of the tension and energy in my muscles drift away. “Take another deep breath and focus on slowly inhaling until your lungs are full, and gently release your exhale. Focus only on your breath. The room is warm. You are safe. In here there are no to-do lists. In here there are no expectations. There is just you.” His voice was smooth and low.