The Magical Christmas Cookies

  A short story by Merri Hiatt

  Copyright 2011 Merri Hiatt

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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  Cover image credit: Ingrid Balabanova/Shutterstock.com

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  Cinnamon, cloves, butter and vanilla danced as the beaters purred out a hypnotic rhythm.

  “What are you adding now?” Vanessa asked.

  “This?” Holly asked as she eyed the small round container.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh this is something extra special. No Christmas cookies can ever be made without it.”

  “What is it?”

  Holly leaned forward and whispered, “It’s Christmas Magic.”

  Vanessa rolled her eyes. “But what is it?”

  “Sleigh bells ring, are you listenin’?” Holly sang as Vanessa crossed her arms stubbornly, waiting for an answer. “Down the lane, snow is glistenin’.”

  “How will I ever learn how to make Christmas cookies if you don’t tell me what’s in them?”

  “All you have to do is follow the recipe on this card.” Holly handed Vanessa the three-inch by five-inch recipe card. Vanessa read the ingredients carefully.

  “But this just says to add two dashes of Christmas Magic. Where do I get Christmas Magic?”

  Holly smiled, but gave no answer. “How about helping me put the cookies on the sheet pan so we can get them into the oven?”

  Vanessa sighed heavily as she slipped off the stool and joined her aunt on the other side of the kitchen island. Holly continued to alternately sing and hum Christmas songs as they diligently scooped the cookie dough into small mounds and placed them on the baking sheet.

  “In twelve minutes we’ll have the most delicious Christmas cookies ever,” Holly said as she placed the cookies in the oven and shut the door, setting the timer in case time got away from her.

  “Where do you buy Christmas Magic?”

  “Oh, you can’t buy Christmas Magic, Nessa. You have to make it yourself.”

  “Will you teach me?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. I have the recipe right here.” Holly used a step stool so she could reach the cabinet above the stove. Even so, she had to stretch to reach the very back corner of the shelf. She pulled out a small box covered in purple velvet, the only adornment a gold tassel on the lid.

  Vanessa watched with eyes wide as Holly opened the box. There was only one small piece of paper inside. Holly retrieved the paper and handed it to Nessa.

  Vanessa read aloud, “One pinch of love, one dollop of hope, two dreams that can’t possibly ever come true, an ounce of compassion, one cup of inspiration, two tablespoons of forgiveness, and one-quarter teaspoon of salt for flavor.

  This isn’t even a real recipe! All you added to the cookies was salt, that’s why it was white. All cookies have salt in them. I don’t think your cookies are magical at all!”

  Vanessa threw the paper on the counter and ran out of the kitchen toward her bedroom.

  Holly sighed. No one seemed to believe any more. It wasn’t just Vanessa. She saw it in people’s eyes as they walked down the street. They were struggling to pay bills and keep their jobs, not to mention trying to stay healthy. They’d lost hope.

  She’d seen the power of the Magical Christmas Cookies firsthand, but never with an entire town. Did they have enough power to bring hope back into the hearts of the people of Maple Valley?

  Holly tapped her fingers on the counter as she thought about the question. Maybe, just maybe, they did.

  “Laura, can you help me with this tree?” Daniel asked his wife.

  “Sure, honey, just give me a minute.” Laura gave Bradley a quick hug and kiss, then placed him in the playpen along with his favorite stuffed frog and plastic key ring. “I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

  As she walked toward the pick-up truck where Daniel was trying to unload their Christmas tree, she wondered if they’d be able to put any presents under it this year. “What can I do?”

  “Grab the other side and we’ll slide it out the back.”

  “Okeydokey.” Laura rounded the truck and began lifting the tree.

  “Lift your side higher, Laura.”

  “I’m trying. It’s caught on something.”

  “Can you see what?”

  “I’m not sure. I think it’s your red toolbox.”

  “It can’t be.”

  “I think it is.”

  “No, it can’t be.”

  “Well, I think it is.”

  “No. I sold it over a week ago.”

  Laura let the tree fall into the bed of the truck. “You sold your toolbox? Your dad gave you that toolbox.”

  “I know. Some things are more important.”

  Laura came around to Daniel’s side. “Honey, I wish you’d told me you were going to do that.”

  “Why, so you could talk me out of it?”

  “Maybe.”

  Daniel smoothed Laura’s hair with his hand. “I don’t want you to worry about anything. I promised I’d take care of you and Bradley and I will. I’m a man of my word.”

  “I know you are. It’s just, well, we’re a team now. We should work together. I can get a job…”

  “We’ve been over this, Laura. Your job is to be a mother. That’s a full-time job. Heaven knows my mother worked her fingers to the bone trying to raise me and my brothers when dad left. I’d never do that to you or to Bradley.”

  “You’re not like your father, Daniel. You’re a good, honest, loving man. You’ll find work soon. I’m sure of it. We’ll be fine. We’ve got each other.”

  “I love you. I hope you’re not sorry you married me.”

  “Daniel, I could never be sorry I married you.”

  Laura leaned forward and kissed Daniel gently on the lips as he wrapped her in his arms.

  “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve someone like you in my life, but I’m sure glad I did whatever it was,” Daniel said.

  “Me, too.”

  “Let’s get back to gettin’ this dadblasted tree inside.”

  “We still haven’t figured out what it’s hung up on,” Laura said as she tried to lift the tree to see what was underneath.

  “Here, let me help.”

  Working together they were able to lift the tree up high enough for Laura to retrieve the large red box she had mistaken for the toolbox.

  “What is it?” Laura asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.”

  “It was in your truck.”

  “I know, but I didn’t put it there. Maybe it’s from one of the guys from the construction site.”

  Daniel opened the box and lifted the parchment paper to reveal cookies in all shapes and sizes. “Well, at least we won’t go hungry!”

  Laura smiled and took one for herself and one for Daniel. “Merry Christmas, honey,” she said.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  Laura set the box of cookies on the front seat of the truck and resumed her position, grabbing the tree with renewed vigor. They hauled it up easily this time and carried it into the house together.

  “Look, Bradley, it’s a Christmas tree!” Laura exclaimed.

  Bradley’s eyes widened at the sight. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but it was big and green and he figured it would probably taste good if he ever got a chance to put part of it in his mouth.

  “We need to get a tree stand. I bet I can find one at the thrift store,” Laura said, not sure where she’d find the money for even that small expense.

  The phone rang, startling Bradley, and he began to cry.

  “Honey, you get the phone and I’ll get Bradley,” Laura said, heading for the playpen to pick up her baby boy. Once soothed by his mother’s gentle voice and warm arms, Bradley began to wiggle.

  Daniel came back into the room. “That was Paul McCutchin. He has a job for me. It’s just for the weekend, but it’ll bring in some unexpected cash.”

  “See, honey, things are looking up already,” Laura said, giving Daniel a kiss on the cheek and handing him the baby. “This calls for a celebration. How about grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup?”

  Bradley giggled.

  “I think Bradley would like some grilled cheese and tomato soup, wouldn’t you Bradley?” Daniel asked.

  His question was met with another giggle and a head bob as Bradley tried to put his entire fist into his mouth.

  Laura watched her two favorite men as Daniel lifted Bradley over his head and made airplane noises. Bradley’s laughter could be heard down the hallway and out onto the streets of Maple Valley. So far that John Risling could hear it clear behind the liquor store.

  John knew Bradley Davidson’s laughter well. He wouldn’t admit it to just anyone, but the sound touched his heart deeply, tears welling in his eyes. They were a young family, the Davidson’s. They reminded him of his own family back when they were first starting out. They hadn’t had much money, but his wife had assured him that love would be enough to see them through. Stacy had been wrong. Love wasn’t enough. He lost his construction job, winters were always difficult, but that particular year was the worst. Stacy was ill most of her pregnancy and although he never told her, he worried himself sick wondering if she would be okay.

  She had the baby, Adam, on a Thursday. Two days later she slipped into a coma and died. Funny thing they say, “slipping into a coma,” but that’s just what she did. She was holding Adam when her arms simply went limp and her eyes closed for the last time. He’d never see her spirited hazel eyes again.

  He tried to raise Adam on his own, but he wasn’t any good without Stacy. As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t much point in living. It felt good to grab a bottle, and forget. He could bear things a bit better when he was numb.

  His sister offered to take care of Adam for a few months, ‘til he got on his feet; they both knew that wasn’t going to happen. A few months turned to years. He hadn’t seen Adam in over twenty-two years now.

  It didn’t do any good to rehash the past. He was a drunk, a loser, and didn’t even deserve the space he took up by the dumpster at night. But sometimes, when he heard Bradley laugh, he remembered a different life.

  John hadn’t meant to steal the cookies sitting on the pick-up truck seat. He was hungry and there they were. He didn’t want to miss the opportunity; they didn’t come along that often. There were so many cookies in the box. He would have enough to eat for a month, if the others didn’t take them. He’d need to find a good hiding place.

  A sound only perceptible to someone whose home was the street caught his ear. He was on guard immediately.

  “John, you there?” Tilly Jameson called into the alley.

  “Yeah, Tilly, I’m here.”

  “You warm enough? I got half a box of garbage bags down to the thrift store yesterday. They was just left there with a bag of other stuff. You can have some.”

  “I’ll take a couple.” John thought for a moment, then pulled out two cookies from the large red box. “I’ll trade you for these here Christmas cookies.”

  “Christmas cookies? Where’d you get those? The ones down to the convalescent center are stale and taste like cardboard.”

  “I know. These are good, you’ll like ‘em.”

  They made their trade and Tilly took a bite of a cookie with pink frosting and crushed peppermint candy on top. She sighed and breathed in a memory of Christmas’ with her mother. They’d spend hours in the kitchen baking Christmas cookies of all kinds, and fudge, too.

  They would buy inexpensive plastic containers and pack cookies into them until there was no space left. Then her mother would wrap plaid ribbon around them and make the most perfect little bow on top. Everyone loved to receive her treasures. That was a long time ago, though, a very long time ago.

  “I’ll see ya at soup tomorrow night,” Tilly said, heading back down the alley. “If you get any more of those cookies, bring some with you. They was good.”

  John carefully placed newspapers and cardboard pieces inside the garbage bags to add weight, then placed one underneath him and one overtop. The extra padding and warmth would help ward off the bitter chill that permeated the air.

  He reached into the cookie box and ate one more cookie slowly. He imagined he was inside the Davidson’s home with their new Christmas tree decorated with twinkling lights in a rainbow of colors. Little Bradley would be gnawing on the edge of a wrapped package while Laura put another ornament on the tree and Daniel carved the turkey.

  As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered what Adam’s Christmas would be like this year and the images in his head morphed into a Norman Rockwell painting with his family from long ago.

  Holly knocked tentatively on Vanessa’s bedroom door. The fluorescent pink sign declaring “Knock before entering or else!!!” shifted a bit as it dangled by two pushpins precariously close to ending up on the carpet. Holly waited for Vanessa to respond. When she didn’t, she knocked again.

  “Come in,” Nessa said without an ounce of invitation in her voice.

  Holly made her way through the maze of clothes, stuffed animals, bags, books, and blankets until she was able to sit opposite Vanessa on her four-poster bed.

  “I wish I could make Christmas as special as your mom made it,” Holly said.

  “No one can ever do that.”

  “I know. I just wish I could.”

  There was a pause filled with a deep longing for connection. Vanessa couldn’t reach out to Holly, even though she loved her aunt. She wasn’t her mother and no one would ever come close to being her mother.

  Holly couldn’t break through Vanessa’s wall of protection. Being ten years old and having your mother die changes a person deep in the marrow.

  “I love you, Nessa. I want to help, in any way I can, if you’ll let me.”

  “What do you think you can do? Wave a magic wand and bring my mom back again? You can’t. No one can. And that’s the only thing that will ever make me feel like…” Vanessa tried to find the right words, but only found memories of her mother’s hair clogging her brain.

  “Feel like what?”

  Vanessa got up and went over to the window. She pulled the gauzy white curtain back. Eggshell, that’s the color her mother said it was. They looked at swatches and paint chips at the local hardware store for hours one day. Her mother went on and on about the varying shades of white such as ecru, eggshell, cream, and even pale butter. Nessa insisted that white was white and that just because it was slightly less white than another shade, that didn’t make it not white.

  “I want to get new curtains. Is that okay?” Nessa asked, turning to face Holly. “Red or blue or maybe purple. Something bold and bright.”

  “Sure, we can get new curtains.”

  Holly wanted to scoop Vanessa up in her arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, that she would feel better in time. It had only been a year and a half since her mother died. She had her whole life ahead of her. But who was she kidding? If she were Nessa, she’d probably ask for black curtains and shut herself in her room for years.

  “I’m going to order pizza for dinner. Do you want to invite Ashleigh over?”

  “Okay. Can she stay overnight, too?”

  “Sure.”

  Holly got up and headed toward the door, being careful not to step on any of Vanessa’s things, even though she wanted desperately to pick everything up and put it where it rightfully belonged.

  “Holly?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want to make any more Christmas cookies this year. I just wanted you to know, so you wouldn’t ask me again or anything.”

  Holly nodded as her heart sank a quarter of an inch lower in her chest. “Okay.”

  The Methodist Church always served soup and bread on Sunday night to anyone who wanted a hot meal. When the paper mill shut down last summer, their number of diners increased three-fold. Some nights it was standing room only and a waiting line of half an hour. Tilly worried that one day they’d simply run out of food. It was one of two hot meals she could count on each week.

  As she made her way to the end of the line, she hoped John would be there with more Christmas cookies.

  Her knees ached badly today. Usually it was her back spasms that sent her to the Emergency Room, but today she felt like her knees were going to give way. They were nice at the ER. They always gave her a sandwich and some juice, sometimes even giving her an extra sandwich and applesauce to take with her when she left. They always wanted to admit her to the hospital. They’d tell her this big long list of things that were wrong with her, but she didn’t have any money. One thing she’d learned in her sixty-four years was that if you didn’t have money, you were treated differently.

  “Tilly, come up here to the front. I saved you a spot,” John Risling said.

  Tilly didn’t like taking cuts. She’d wait her turn in line just like everyone else. “I’ll see you when we get inside, John.”

 

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