Month: December 2019

Holiday Journey 13

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

When Chris rose in the morning, he found someone came in the middle of the night and replaced his down jacket with a pea coat.  It felt like wool, so he imagined it would be warm enough.  Elves, he thought.  He shrugged it off before he thought to check for his wallet and keys.  He found them in his coat pocket, where they should be, but someone replaced his American dollars with old looking British pounds that he thought looked more like sheets of paper than money.  He shrugged again, grabbed his backpack, and went outside to find Mary.

Mary came out when he did.  Perhaps she heard his door open.  She came dressed in a white dress that fell to her ankles, edged with tatting, the same as her collar and her sleeves.  She wore boots that had laces up the side.  Chris imagined it would take him half the morning to lace those boots. She also wore a pea coat of her own, though hers went to well below her knees.

“Are we ready?” she asked casually as she buttoned up her coat against the cold.

“I take it we are headed into the past,” Chris surmised.

“That would be my guess,” Mary answered, and did not appear shaken in the least by that suggestion.  That brought back all the questions Chris struggled with all night.  Before Chris could ask about that, Roy and Plum arrived.

“Ready to go?” Plum asked.  “We will be taking the train today.”

Chris looked at the two men who appeared dressed in some kind of uniform.  Roy carried a big box, and a tripod, which suggested to Chris the box might have an old-fashioned camera in it.  Plum carried two small duffle bags, and pretended he had the heavy load.

“We best get going,” Roy said, quietly.

“Yup. Don’t want to miss breakfast,” Plum agreed, speaking with some volume, and patting his ample stomach.  “But we got to make it quick.  It’s a long walk if we miss the train.”

Chris stepped from the motel, Mary beside him.  Mary put her pink backpack up on her shoulder as Chris spoke.  “Polar Express.”

Mary laughed, and shook her head, “No.”

Breakfast at the Yuletide Diner did not take long.  No one spoke, except Mary mentioned she felt glad the sun came out, and Plum, who said they should eat up because who knew what sort of food they might have on the train.  Otherwise, they ate in silence and nursed their coffees.  Roy had tea.

Chris spent that time staring again at his three companions.  He tried to imagine what Roy and Plum might look like in their elf form.  He felt a bit disturbed at how easy that was to imagine.  Roy went back to staring out the window, and said nothing, but Chris expected that.  Roy never said much.  Plum spent the whole time nervously playing with his food.  He kept looking like he wanted to say something, but kept changing his mind.  Then, there was Mary.

He had to find out how old she was.  He did not even know her last name, which shocked him when he thought about it.  In fact, he knew nothing about her, and yet, somehow that did not matter.  He decided he did not care if she was eighteen, he wanted to be with her.  As he thought about it, he felt a touch of surprise.  He felt like he wanted to be with her forever, if possible, or as near to that as he could manage.

The station proved not very far down the road.  When they got on the platform, Chris took a long look back at the town. Something registered in Chris’ mind, but before he could put it into words, he had to hustle up to the train. He did catch a glimpse of the diesel engine up front, and wondered how far in the past they had to go.  That engine would not have been in service before the 1940s, maybe, the 1930s.

“Here,” Mary said, taking his hand, and directing him into the bench seat beside herself.  He made her get in first so once again he could trap her and she could not escape. She did not seem to mind sitting by the window.

 

Cue: We Wish You a Merry Christmas

A Holiday Journey, The London Symphony Orchestra

conducted by Don Jackson.  Ó℗CD Guy Music Inc., 2001

 

Chris watched over Mary’s shoulder as they pulled out from the station.  In fact, he watched all morning.  He saw the quaint sixties housing development built on the edge of town.  He imagined in another thirty or forty years, it would become urban sprawl.  Too bad about that.  They quickly got out to the countryside, and it became a pleasant ride. They went through one short tunnel, and stopped briefly at two village stations before Mary turned to face Chris and said, “What,” rather sharply.  She looked down, her ears and cheeks red from so many conflicting emotions.

Chris took one last look out the window.  He saw a horse pulled plow out in the field.  He turned to focus on Mary, and couldn’t help what came out of his mouth.  “I really like the way you look in that dress.  Do you dance in that dress?”

Mary looked up.  “I could learn,” she said, with massive amounts of hope in her voice and eyes.

“Maybe we could learn together,” he suggested.

Mary grabbed him, threw her face into his shirt, and wept.  He put his arms around her, encouraged her, and said, “Hush, hush.” Plum turned around in his seat, pulled his head above the back of the bench, and totally interrupted.

“Lunch.”

Plum and Roy stood, and Chris and Mary followed, but they refused to let go of each other.

“You know, I will have to ask you some questions,” Chris whispered.

“And I will answer honestly,” Mary said, as she wiped her eyes.  “I don’t ever want to lie to you.”

Chris paused.  He had not thought she might lie, but he supposed that was important for her to say.

The next car turned out to be a dining car.  They got a table for four right away, and ordered sandwiches and lemonade. Chris asked if they had coffee. The waiter said he would serve espresso with desert.  Chris turned up his nose a little, but accepted it as the best they could do.

“American,” Plum told the waiter, and the waiter said something in French, no doubt an insult.

“So, where are we?” Chris asked.

“Somewhere outside of Paris, I would guess,” Plum said, but quieted when he looked up and saw Chris talking to Mary.

“You know what I know,” Mary said, and frowned at using her defense right at the beginning.

“So, where are you from?” Chris asked, first thing.

“Norway. I was born in Norway,” Mary said and got quiet as two men in uniform came up to the table.

“Monsieur Plum and Roy.” one said, and Chris thought he recognized the uniforms. They were both army captains, one French and one British.  “Mademoiselle,” the Frenchman nodded to Mary.  “And…” he looked at Chris.

“American,” Plum repeated.  “He is here to observe, so treat him well.  It would not hurt to have the Americans on our side.”

The Frenchman frowned, but the British officer seemed delighted.  “Bravo.  Welcome to the bloody mess.  We will try to keep the Hun out of your way.”  He reached over and shook Chris’ hand.

“Le Boche,” The Frenchman said, and followed with a bunch of words in French that Chris had no hope of following.  When Mary answered the man in French, however, Chris raised an eyebrow. The men left, but the food came, and once again they ate in silence.  When the espresso and desert came, Chris finally asked Mary what the man said.

Plum spoke.  “He said they did not need the help of the know-it-all Americans.”

“And what did you answer him?” Chris asked.

“She said, you have reached a stalemate.  You better hope the Americans can tip the scale in your favor.”

Chris and Mary gave Plum hard stares, and Roy thought to intervene.  “Maybe we should go back to check on our equipment.” He practically hauled Plum to his feet and escorted him out of the room.

Chris and Mary sat in silence for a minute, but finally, Chris had to ask. “So you are from Norway.  And what is your last name?”  He shook his head.  “There is so much I don’t know about you.”

Mary got up and sat on the other side of the table to face him.  “I haven’t got a last name.”  She reached out for his hand, and he gave them to her, but he did not otherwise move.

“Your parents?”

“My father is Juletre.  That means Christmas tree in Norwegian.  My mother is Willow, named like the tree.  My brother is Rowan, like the tree with berries that feeds the reindeer.”

“Older or younger brother?”

“Older. Much older than you.”

“So, you were born in the woods?”  Chris smiled, but Mary couldn’t smile.  Her anxiety exploded on her face and in her body language.  She began to worry the hand that held his.  She bit her lower lip.

She finally said, “I am not who you think I am.”  He just raised one eyebrow.  “Well, for one, my name is not Mary.  It is Merry.”

Chris nodded and smiled.  “That is the most sensible thing you have said so far.”

Mary returned his smiled when she realized he could not possibly hear the difference.  “I mean, my name is not Mary, like the mother of God.  It is Merry, as in, Merry Christmas.”  Chris said nothing.  Merry swallowed.

“Second, you needn’t worry about how old I am.  I’m one hundred and thirty-seven-years-old.  I am a full-grown adult.”

Chris’ smiled until it became a bit of a laugh.  “So, maybe you are too old for me.”

“Third, I’m an elf, technically, a Christmas-elf-maiden.”  Merry removed her glamour of humanity and looked at Chris through eyes that were even bigger and more puppy-dog than before.  Chris returned her stare, and at least she was happy to see that he did not snatch his hand back like it was on fire or she had cooties or something.  Then again, he might be in shock.

“And…” Chris coughed to clear his throat. “And Lilly?”

“You honestly know what I know,” Mary, or rather, Merry said.  “We are dependent on Plum and Roy to find the way she has gone.”

Chris stood, and Merry started to get up, but he waved at her to keep her seated. “No, no,” he said.  “Finish your custard.  I need to be alone for a bit.”

“Flan,” she called it.

He started toward the passenger compartment, but remembered Plum and Roy. He went the other way, found a seat, and stared out the window for a long time.  Merry spent most of that time crying.

 

Cue Reprise: We Wish You a Merry Christmas

A Holiday Journey, The London Symphony Orchestra

conducted by Don Jackson.  Ó℗CD Guy Music Inc., 2001

 

When Chris found his way back to the others, he took his seat beside Merry, who looked like Mary again, though she remained Merry.  He said nothing, looking straight ahead.  She said nothing and did the same.  Then the train pulled slowly to a stop in the station.

Plum tried to hurry them.  The sun got ready to set.  Chris got his backpack, and Merry got hers.  Chris offered his arm, and Merry took it, but still, without a word, they walked off the train.

Holiday Journey 12

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Chris nodded.  “To be honest, I am afraid if I question too much, I may wake up back in my apartment, Lilly still gone, and me with no way of ever finding her as you all vanish.”

“I won’t desert you,” Mary said abruptly, and Chris took and held her hand beneath the table, which made her smile, the tears long forgotten.

“You say it is 1965.  That makes no sense whatsoever, but okay.  Where do we go from here?  I hope we don’t have to go all the way back to a manger in Bethlehem, because that might take longer than a week.”

“No,” Plum said between scoops of pudding.  “Not nearly that far.”

Roy nudged Plum, but Plum took a moment to lick his pudding bowl before he moved. “We need to find which route they have taken,” Roy said.

“That’s right,” Plum agreed.  “We will cover the bill, so no worries on that score.  Your money wouldn’t work here, anyway, unless you have some really old bills.  We will catch you up in the morning.  I recommend some good sleep.  We may have a long day of travel tomorrow.”

As they headed off, Mary fidgeted in her seat, like one looking for a comfortable spot on the booth bench.  Chris pushed in so their sides touched and he pushed Mary right up to the window.  She could not escape.  She looked at him, and the anxiety returned to her face.  This time, she did not look surprised by what he asked.

“Are they human?”  Chris had begun to let his imagination run wild.  He thought maybe Lily got abducted by time traveling aliens, and he…and Mary…got lucky to find a couple of aliens that did not approve of kidnaping.

Mary sat silently staring up at Chris for what seemed like an eternity.  Chris stared back and revised things in his mind. He decided she might be as old as twenty-three, and not the eighteen he first thought.  Twenty-three would be a reasonable age for someone who was twenty-eight.  He shouldn’t feel like he was robbing the cradle.

Finally, Mary shook her head, but said nothing.  She turned her eyes to her coffee and worried her cup.

“So, they are aliens?” Chris said, with a straight face.

Mary let out a laugh, and a touch of spit which she just caught with her finger, and then her napkin.  “No,” she said, and once again turned her smiling face to look at him.  He looked curious.  She told him.  “They are elves.  They are Christmas elves, which is why I believe they can take us to Lilly, if anyone can.”  Mary watched Chris’ curious eyebrows go up.  “And clearly, they are morons, too,” she added.

“No,” Chris countered.  “Roy seems to have a brain.”

“Yes,” Mary said.  “But he mostly doesn’t use it.  He just goes along with whatever Plum says, and Plum says too much.”

“He does like to talk,” Chris said.

Mary laughed and nodded.  Chris decided he was not ready to ask Mary how she knew Plum and Roy were Christmas elves. He did not want to consider asking about herself for fear of the answers, so instead, he took her hand and pulled her from the booth.

“We need to rest, as Plum said.”  He took her outside, and she did not resist him.  They got to the sidewalk, Mary holding tight to his hand.  Chris did not want to let go of her hand.  He distracted himself as an elderly black woman walked by on the sidewalk.  She looked about fifty, in a thin winter coat and wearing a plain hat, and she carried several Christmas presents in her hands as she headed toward the parking lot. He said, “Merry Christmas.”

The woman looked startled, but only for a moment.  She turned her head, and the serious and sad look left her face and got replaced by a smile.  “Merry Christmas,” she returned, and kept walking.

Mary tugged on Chris’ sleeve to regain his attention.  “You have questions?”  Her voice sounded flat, like she knew he had questions, and she was prepared to answer whatever he asked.

Chris looked at her and nodded.  “How old are you?”

For the third time, Mary did not expect that question.  “How old do you want me to be?” she answered, and grinned on the inside.  The grin nearly burst out of her, but they got interrupted.  The old woman got stopped at the edge of the parking lot by bikers.  Two blocked her way and the gothic looking girl behind them laughed to watch.  When one of the bikers knocked the Christmas packages out of the old woman’s hand, Chris ran to them.  Mary followed.

“Hey,” Chris yelled to get their attention.  “Come on, guys.  It’s Christmas,” he said.  He bent down to pick up one of the packages, so Mary helped.  ‘Give it a break for one day a year at least.  Okay?”  Chris looked over the lot and saw a policeman by his car, just three cars in.  The policeman watched, but did not appear inclined to do anything, so Chris shouted to him, “It’s Christmas.”

“Who the hell are you?” one of the bikers asked.

“She’s a negro,” the other said, as if that justified anything, and the gothic girl, who looked remarkably like a gothic version of Courtney, looked angry.

“She is a human being,” Chris responded.  “She is a good Christian woman who deserves better than hassles on Christmas Eve.”

One of the bikers looked ready to raise a fist, but the policeman decided to come over. “Okay boys,” the policeman said. “Move along.  You need to take your fun somewhere else.”

The biker fist unclenched, and they did not argue.  They got on their bikes.  The gothic Courtney still looked angry as she sat behind the big one, and they roared off. Mary handed the last package to the woman.

“Thank you,” the woman said, and smiled.  “Merry Christmas,” she said again, before she glanced at the policeman and hurried to her car.

“Merry Christmas,” Mary responded.

“And a very merry Christmas to you, too, officer,” Chris said, as he caught Mary’s hand and walked her toward the motel.

The policeman’s annoyed face softened, and he responded with the same before returning to his patrol car.

Mary got serious when they came to the motel doors.  They had rooms beside each other, but despite the long day, Mary did not appear ready to go to bed.  “You have questions?”  She tried again.

Chris hesitated, but only for a moment as he put his hands to Mary’s shoulders and looked into her eyes.  “Nothing that can’t wait” he said, leaned down, and kissed her.  He went in his room right away, and left her outside her own door, in the cold, where she looked up at the stars with those big eyes and gently touched her own lips.

************************

MONDAY

A Holiday Journey:  1965, and the journey has just begun.

Until next time, I hope you get in some Happy Reading

*

Holiday Journey 11

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Chris saw an Ambassador police car parked outside the donut shop.  He saw the dress shop, the hardware, the bakery, the butcher, and a very big toy shop.  He had another thought.  “That was a time machine and we went back to 1957.”

“No,” Plum laughed.  “Middleton is not reached by time travel, though the town is stuck somewhere in the early sixties.  I always figured about 1965 or 66.”

Chris stopped.  Plum bumped into him for not watching where he was going.  Mary let go of Chris’ arm and looked worried.  Roy got their attention.

“It is getting late.  We better get rooms before we eat.”

“Lilly came this way.” Mary said as a statement to Chris, but her voice made it enough like a question for Plum to answer.

“She did. We are certain about that.  Roy and I will have to spend the night detecting to figure out where she went from here.  But she certainly came here, so we are on the right path.”

No telling what Chris thought.

Everyone stared at Chris, to make the decision.  He pointed as he spoke.  “So, we get rooms at the Holiday Motel before we eat at the Yuletide Diner.”  Everyone breathed, and Roy started walking.  They followed, but Chris had not finished speaking. “Then I think you all have some explaining to do,” he said, with an especially sharp look at Mary.

The diner looked like a train car right out of the 1960s.  They had a speaker with a volume control at each booth for whatever might be playing on the jukebox.  Chris turned the speaker off when he looked at the menu.  There were enough speakers in the place turned on, so he did not need it blasting in his ear.  Chris sat on the outside with Mary next to him, while Plum squeezed Roy up to the window on the other side.

“The french-fries here are really good,” Plum said, before he swallowed.  Maybe he should not have said that.  He got busy with the menu.

Chris gave him a hard look and got ready to ask a question, but he got interrupted.

The waitress, in a green uniform with a red apron, and a silver and gold bell lapel pin that jingled every time she moved, brought waters in hard plastic red cups and asked if they were ready to order.

“Sure,” Chris said.  “I’ll have the turkey and stuffing.  Mashed potatoes and…” he looked at Mary.

“Green beans,” Mary said.

“Green beans.” Chris said, and shrugged.

“I’ll have the same thing,” Mary agreed and handed the menus to the waitress.

“You want gravy on your potatoes?” the waitress asked.

Chris and Mary said, “Yes” at the same time.

“Gravy on everything,” Mary said.

“Except the green beans,” Chris countered.

“Except the green beans,” Mary nodded.

“And coffee,” Chris added.

“Yes, coffee, please,” Mary agreed, and looked around the diner, being uncomfortable under Chris’ stare.  Roy and Plum ordered, and then they had to wait.  Elvis finished on the jukebox, and Gene Autry came on, singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.  Roy looked out the window, being next to it.   Plum twirled his fork, and looked ready to whistle along with the music. Mary found something fascinating about the couple two booths down and across the aisle.  At least she stared in that direction, effectively taking her attention away from Chris’ eyes.  Chris thought of all sorts of things to say, but only one thing bothered him.

“So, where is Lilly?”

“We honestly don’t know where she may be at this point,” Plum spoke right up.

“But you have been to this place before.  You said they have good fries here.”

“Yes, yes,” Plum admitted.  “I’ve been to places further on, too, a bit.  The thing is, we don’t know which way she may have gone from here.”

Chris turned to Mary.  “1965?” he asked her.  Mary shrugged, but looked nervous.  She bit her lip, but decided for the sake of her feelings for Chris, she had to tell the truth, even if she did not have to tell everything just yet.

“It is Christmas eve here, and tomorrow will be Christmas day, even though back at the apartment it is still a week before Christmas.  I don’t know how it works, but I know that is true.  The motel diner will be open tomorrow so we can get breakfast, but after that we will have to depend on these two…fine gentlemen to lead the way.  As far as Lilly goes, you know what I know, and I am as worried about her as you are, but we have to believe she is fine and well.”

The waitress came with supper, and Chris paused in his questions, though he did not stop staring at the three while everyone ate.

Chris had a lot to digest beyond the turkey and dressing, which tasted good.  He had been hungry, but now, as he satisfied that hunger, he began to think again about what he was doing, where he was, and when he was.  It did not make any sense.  They left his apartment on Monday morning, a full week before Christmas.  He had every hope of finding Lilly safe and sound before Christmas.  But Mary said they were in 1965, or 66.  And even if they were actually still in regular time, she said it was Christmas Eve, like he lost a whole week of time.  That did not make any sense.

The waitress came to fil their coffee cups, and he asked.  “So, this is Christmas Eve…”  He let his voice trail off and tried to sound casual about it.

“That’s right,” the waitress said, with a smile.  “You expecting something special under the tree tomorrow?”  She smiled harder, like she thought that might be a good idea.  “Merry Christmas,” she said, and left.

Chris stared at Plum who picked at his food.  Mary stared at him with her big eyes, but said nothing.  Chris ignored them and focused on his food, as Roy turned on the speaker.

 

Cue: White Christmas

Bing Crosby (1942) Original Version

 

Chris considered when they left the minister, not much more than an hour ago. The police car with the flashing lights made plenty of noise when it arrived.  He went through what looked like a back door to a warehouse—maybe a six-story building.  The sound, flashing lights, and everything cut off instantly.  He stepped through a room not much bigger than a walk-in closet, and came out in this place, where the white snow made deep piles beside the well plowed road, and the old winter trees stood as tall or taller than any of the buildings.  He looked back and saw no sign of a six-story warehouse, much less the eight to twelve-story apartment and office buildings that filled the previous area.  More than that, he heard nothing.  The traffic and general sound of people on that busy street should have been obvious, even a block away.

Chris looked at Mary, and she quickly turned her eyes to her nearly empty plate. He said something she did not expect. “Apple pie?”

Mary looked up, her face trying to smile, but looked ready to cry any moment. “Yes, please,” she said.

Chris got the waitress and ordered.  Fat Plum wanted Figgie pudding.  Tall and skinny Roy stayed away from the sugar. With one last hard look at his companions, Chris explained.

“The important thing is to find Lilly, safe and sound.”  He looked away, though the others all stared at him, like the condemned, awaiting their sentence.  “For some reason, you people seem to know where she is, or at least where she is headed. I figure, if the only way to reach her is to follow you, then that is what I must do, no matter how strange the journey gets.  You said a week.”

“Maybe not so long,” Mary interrupted, and immediately covered her mouth and quieted.

Holiday Journey 10

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

They had lunch in a small sandwich shop in a shopping center.  Mary and Roy had salads.  Plum and Chris got burgers, and with the food, the fog seemed to lift from Chris’ mind enough to ask a couple of questions.

“Mary,” he said.  “Don’t you have to go to work?”  Mary paused with her fork near her mouth, like he asked a surprise question.

“No,” she said rather quickly.  “I called. I got the week before Christmas off. It is the first time in forever I am not running around like a crazy woman the week before Christmas…”  She began to ramble.  Plum kindly interrupted.

“Lucky you,” he said, and pointed at her, but nudged Chris to get his attention.  “Christmas is our busy season…you know…for detectives…”  Plum also got ready to ramble, to no doubt tell an expertly crafted bit of half-truths, but Chris interrupted.

“As much as I appreciate you taking us to Lilly, who exactly is paying your fee.  I assume this isn’t for free.”

“Well, um…” Plum had to think about that.

“We are not at liberty to say,” Roy interjected.

“Exactly,” Plum said, and brightened.  “Our lips are sealed.  Wouldn’t be good detectives if we couldn’t keep confidentiality.  But I can tell you, it is someone who has your best interests at heart.  Those others took your little girl.  Tsk, tsk. Even if we weren’t getting paid, it is our moral duty to take you to her.  Yes sir. Our lips are sealed…”  He finally rambled off for a verbal stroll, stretching his tongue and lips the way others might stretch their legs.  Chris wondered what it might take to seal the man’s lips.

Chris interrupted with another question.  “So, where did they take Lily?”

“Taking her, still, I imagine,” Roy interjected again.

Plum looked at the beanpole of a man who appeared tall, even when sitting down.  Plum glanced at Mary, passing unspoken words, before he spoke.  He grimaced, like telling the plain truth about something might kill him, but the others were not going to say it, and Chris kept staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“Okay,” Plum said, and let out his breath, like he had been holding it, expecting something bad to happen.  “They are taking her to the Christmas village to see Santa Clause.”

Chris stared.  He swallowed. Then he laughed before he got out the words.  “There are Santas all over the place.  I took her to see Santa just last week.  What do you mean they took her to see Santa?”

“The real Santa,” Plum said, in all seriousness.  “The original, you might say…”  Plum let his voice fall away.  Chris continued to stare.  He did not know how to interpret that bit of information.  Roy stood up before Chris decided to call Plum crazy, or plum-loco.

“Are we ready to find Lilly?” Roy asked, diverting Chris’ attention back to the important point.

Mary stood.  “Think of Lilly.”

Chris stood slowly and picked up his backpack.  Lilly mattered, wherever those people may have taken her.  “Do I need to give you money for lunch?” he asked, trying to hold on to something concrete in his mind.  All the same, his mind raced, thinking Lilly got kidnapped by some cult that used the idea of a real Santa Claus to lure in unsuspecting kids; who knew for what nefarious purpose.

“All taken care of,” Plum assured him.  “Follow Roy.”  Plum pointed. Roy already stepped out the door and Mary stood in the door, looking back at Chris, with her eyes big and full of concern.  She appeared to be wondering about something.

Chris walked.

They walked all afternoon, and Chris figured they had to be at the edge of the city, if not out of the city altogether. They wandered through some neighborhoods which were not the best.  In those places, Chris found his worry for Lilly grow.  He hoped she did not end up in such a place, like tied in the back room of a warehouse, or some such thing.  Then again, he considered the poor people who had to live in such conditions.  The more poverty he saw, the more his feelings turned from worry about Lilly to worry about all the people who might be trapped there in one way or another. He wished for something he could do to make their lives a little easier, or at least a little happier.  Chris noticed much less snow in that place, and what remained had turned to a dirty, cold gray slush that stuck to his boots and gave no cheer.

Plum stayed unusually quiet in the afternoon. He followed behind the couple, his head lowered most of the way, like a man doing penance for something terrible.  He looked like a man who spoke out of turn, and maybe ruined everything.  Chris had to fight the urge to tell the man to cheer up.  But then again, if Plum knew something he did not share about Lilly’s situation, he needed to think about that.  He needed to share what he knew.  Chris turned to look at Mary

Mary walked dutifully beside him, her head lowered like Plum, but she sighed now and then, and appeared anxious about something.  Chris decided something important.  He reached over and took Mary’s hand.  Immediately, Mary lifted her face and smiled at him, and Chris decided he liked to see Mary smile.  He spoke over his shoulder.

“Hey, Plum.  Whatever you are fretting about, it can’t be that bad.  Cheer up.  The important thing is finding Lilly safe and sound, and I am trusting we will do that.”

“Good of you to say,” Plum said, though his expression changed little.

Chris continued.  “So, the real, original Santa Claus.”

“Yes. That’s right,” Plum said, and at least he looked up.

“And he lives in the Christmas village? … Of course, he does.”  Chris paused before his next thought.  “So, the kidnappers are taking Lilly to this Santa, and we are following?”  It was a question.

“Yes,” Plum assured him.  “As near as we can figure, that is where they are going.  Roy tracked them to the entrance to Middleton.  Roy is the tracker, you know.  The thing is, we don’t know the way they may have gone from Middleton.  The trail should be good and fresh, but that is why I said prepare for a week.  We don’t know how long a trail we might have to follow, if you see what I mean.”

Chris nodded before he shook his head.  “So, you basically don’t know where you are going.  You don’t know where this Christmas village is.  We are just hoping we don’t lose the trail.”

“You could say that,” Plum admitted, and dropped his head again.

Chris looked at Mary, who shrugged as she spoke.  “They are the only lead we have.  We will find Christmas town.  Sometimes, you just have to believe.”

Chis slowly nodded for her.  Somehow, he could believe it when Mary said it.  He wanted to smile for her, but he saw something that made him drop her hand instead.  An old minister set up a nativity scene on what appeared to be church grounds.  Two young men were harassing him, and the young woman kicked the baby Jesus into the dirt.  Chris rushed between the combatants.

“What is wrong with you?” he asked.  “It’s Christmas.”

“Christ crap,” one young man said.

“We don’t want any sky god shoved down our throats,” the other said.

“It is illegal to make a public display of your stupid religion.”

“It is illegal to promote discrimination.”

“Like a hate crime.  Like hanging nooses and burning crosses.”

“You need to get it off the street.”

“I’m offended by your stupid religion.”

The young woman, who looked like a poor copy of Courtney, merely laughed.

Chris spouted back.  “What offends you?  Christmas is about love, joy, and peace.  Are you against love, joy, or peace, or all three?

The young men paused and stared, surprised at being interrupted in their intolerant rant.  The young woman gave an angry growl.

Look. We have a family here, and a baby. Christmas is about family, and children. Are you offended by family or children? We got wise men bringing gifts. Christmas is about giving.  Are you offended by gifts, or by generous people? So, the shepherds bring in the sheep. They are kind and gentle.  And the Angels sing Joy to the world, and on Earth, peace to all people.  Christmas is the time when the light came into the world.  Even if you don’t believe in the light, plenty of people do, and a reminder is a good thing to help people remember to strive for the light. Would you rather be surrounded by people who follow the light, or those who live and do evil under the cover of darkness?  Are you offended by the light?  I understand some people are offended by the cross, and some by the resurrection. Some people don’t think they need forgiveness, and that is sad.  But Christmas is all about hope and good will toward all people.  There is nothing to be offended by.  It is a beautiful celebration of all that is good.”

Before the others could respond, a police car pulled up, blue lights flashing. The three thugs took off running as the police officer got out to talk to the old minister.  Chris heard the officer say they could not watch twenty-four hours.  Those young people would probably be back to vandalize the nativity, or some others just like them.  Chris did not understand.  A nativity does not force anyone to believe anything. It is simply a reminder that there is good in the world.  Christmas is the only celebration in the year that encourages people to be good and do good for each other.  How can anyone be against that?

Mary collected Chris, taking his arm and pulling him aside.  Roy stood by a non-descript door in a building across the street.

“This way,” Roy said, and opened the door for Plum.  Mary escorted Chris through the door and into a small, empty room that smelled of pine and sawdust.  She held his arm as they walked through the back door.  Chris imagined it would let him into the main part of the building. His jaw dropped when he saw it led them back outside, and to a very different outside than he imagined.  The snow looked white and deep, and a 1957 Chevy rolled down the plowed road in front of them.  An old Ford followed.  Chris recognized the tailfins.

“An antique car show?” Chris asked.  He noticed the buildings were not very tall, and they had space between the buildings and parking lots where trees and bushes grew.  He did not doubt that beneath the snow sat well-cut lawns and probably plenty of flowers on a spring day.

“Nope,” Plum answered.

“We are in Oz and suddenly everything is in color,” Chris tried again, as he looked at all the neon signs, and the streetlights decorated for Christmas. For that matter, everything looked decorated for the season.

“Um…nope,” Plum said.  He had to think about that one for some reason.