Never Fear (46 page)

“
On the table.” Judy
walked over to the oven. “Nick come get the turkey out. Why don’t
we let Jack carve this year, since your
father
sliced his
finger.”

“
I’m fine,” Dan insisted.
“But I wouldn’t mind a break. I’ll read the next story while you
all serve me.” He went to Grandpa and took the book.

“
My voice could use the
rest. I’ll just enjoy this wonderful meal, prepared by my wonderful
family.” Grandpa took a swig and finished off his eggnog. “On this
most wonderful time of the year.”

Judy noticed him finish his drink and
go to refill it. “That was very sweet, Grandpa.” She leaned over
and kissed him on the forehead.

Dan scowled at them, then
took his seat at the head of the table and began to read,
“A Crimson Christmas...”

A CRIMSON
CHRISTMAS

DEBBY GRAHL

Outside the large picture window, snow
fell gently blanketing the quaint New England town in pristine
white. A fire burned low in the brick fireplace while Christmas
carols played softly from the stereo. A freshly cut Frasier fir
stood in the corner, decorated with twinkling lights, colored glass
balls, and an array of ornaments his children had collected
throughout the years.

Nicholas Klaus, an nondescript man of
average height, stared at the boxes containing the Christmas
village his wife had purchased from an estate sale. He scowled.
That was just what they needed, more Christmas crap. There wasn’t
an inch in the house that didn’t already hold some kind of snowman
or Santa figurine. He despised Christmas and everything associated
with it.

For his children’s sake, he’d tried to
put the past out of his mind, but how was he to enjoy a time of
year that brought back nothing but horrific memories? At the age of
ten he had awakened Christmas morning to find his parents’
mutilated bodies lying near the glowing tree, their blood dripping
from its branches and coating the packages below. The investigation
had gone on for months, but the killer had never been caught. It
was as if he’d disappeared into thin air. Nightmare images of
bloody bodies still haunted Nicholas’ dreams. He squeezed his eyes
shut and willed the memory from his mind, but each year it seemed
to sear deeper and deeper into his soul.

He took a deep breath and tried to
focus on the here and now. He glanced at the Santa clock’s digital
display. It was getting late, and he’d promised to set up the
village under the tree. His children had been sent off to bed, and
his wife was upstairs wrapping gifts. His mouth formed a thin grim
line. It seemed that each year she was spending more and more on
presents. As the old cliché says, did she think he was made of
money?

Nicholas moved to where a large
Cherrywood box sat upon a table. With reverence he opened the lid.
Inside, lying on a bed of velvet, were whimsical carved figures,
each depicting a member of his family painted in their holiday
finest. Woodworking had been a skill passed down through the
generations on his father’s side. Each figure had been crafted from
the wood of a blackthorn tree. Nicholas couldn’t help but admire
his own craftsmanship as he unwrapped the lifelike figure of his
daughter and son building a snowman. Setting the figure on the
table, he turned to the boxes containing the village.

Soon he had fluffy fake snow spread
out beneath the tree. He arranged the tacky Christmas houses, the
old-fashioned lamp posts, and the plastic magnetic ice-skating
pond. He laid the track for the train, assembled the Santa Claus
Express with the flatcar loaded with little Christmas trees, then
carefully placed the carved figures along with the ceramic
characters his wife had chosen. It looked perfect. And he hated
it.

He connected the extension cords,
plugged them into the surge protector, hit the switch, and watched
as the tiny village seemed to come to life. The lamps blinked on,
skaters bumped around in a circle, and the train chugged
by.

“
Nicholas, it looks
wonderful. The children will love it,” Candace Klaus said coming
into the living room. She bent down to get a closer look. “I knew
as soon as I saw those little village houses, they’d be perfect
under the tree. And all the different people, aren’t they cute? The
ice-skaters going around the pond remind me so much of the
children. Oh, and here comes the train. Nicholas, they’re going to
be so excited.”

Nicholas’s reply was a
grunt.

Candace stood and clapped her hands.
“How I love Christmas. Tomorrow we’ll go cut down a tree for my
parents. The children are really looking forward to it. Then later
there’s the parade. I told Mayor Balsam you’d be willing to be one
of the elves and hand out presents to the children. They’re just
small items, mostly candy. We wouldn’t want to outdo Santa, would
we?” she concluded with a laugh.

Nicholas gritted his teeth. Was the
silly woman so totally oblivious of his internal torment? Be an
elf? Not likely. He stared at her Santa night cap, matching sleep
shirt, and candy cane-striped socks. A sneer of distaste crossed
his face. “Aren’t you a little old to dress like that?”

Confusion and hurt filled her eyes,
then she smiled. “Everyone’s a kid at Christmas.” She turned back
to the village and reached for one of the carved figures. “Each
time I see these I’m amazed at how lifelike they are. I don’t
understand why no one in your family ever went into business
selling them.”

“
They’re not meant to be
sold,” Nicholas replied, taking the figure representing himself
cutting down a tree from Candace’s hand. “This was given to me as a
small child.” Remembering the strange bonding sensation he’d felt
the first time he’d held the figure, Nicholas shook his
head.
It’s only a piece of
wood
, he thought, as he replaced it in the
bed of fake snow.

Suddenly the lights of the village
brightened, then there was a popping noise, and a spark, and all
went dark.

“
The hell with Christmas
and all that goes with it!” Nicholas shouted. He angrily tossed the
last log on the fire and grabbed his axe.

“
Nicholas, where are you
going?” Candace called.

“
To cut down that damn
tree.”

“
But it’s eleven o’clock
at night.”

The slamming of the door was his only
response.

Chapter 2

A flash of light streaked across the
dark sky. Nicholas, startled, his axe raised, paused and quickly
looked around. There wasn’t a sound. The only illumination came
from the newly fallen snow. In front of him stood an evergreen.
Nicholas gripped the handle of the axe and with a few quick strikes
the tree fell. He lashed it to the sled and winding his way through
the pines, headed toward home.

The next morning, Nicholas awoke to
the sound of his wife and children singing along with Burl Ives,
and the smell of cookies baking. Scowling, he threw off the
blanket, quickly dressed, and headed for the kitchen.

“
Good morning, dear,”
Candace said with a bright smile. “Coffee’s ready.”

“
Mom’s making pancakes
shaped like gingerbread men,” his daughter Holly added
excitedly.

“
And there’s hot
chocolate,” his son Chris announced, a wet brown mustache
surrounding his mouth.

Snowball, a fluffy white mutt of no
discernible heritage, barked gleefully while chasing his squeaky
green elf toy.

Nicholas took in his cheerful family,
the counters full of cookies, candy and fruitcake, and frowned in
disgust. How he wished they’d all go away and leave him
alone.

“
Did you cut down the tree
for us to take to my parents?” Candace asked as she filled his
plate.

Nicholas nodded.

“
I can’t wait to get to
Grandma and Grandpa’s house,” Holly said. “We get to help decorate
their tree.”

“
And afterward Grandpa’s
taking us to the ice-skating pond,” Chris said. “Dad, will you come
too?”

Nicholas shook his head. “Not this
time.”

“
I plan on staying with
Mom to help her with the baking,” Candace said. “Nicholas, why
don’t you go and at least watch the children skate?”

Nicholas wiped his mouth and tossed
down his napkin. “We’ll see.”

“
We have a big day ahead
of us,” Candace said. “Don’t forget tonight is the Christmas
parade. And we’re all supposed to be in it. I think it’s wonderful
they want everyone in the town to participate.”

“
Even Snowball!” Holly and
Chris shouted in unison.

Nicholas, unable to listen to any more
of their joyful chatter, rose from his chair. “I’m going for a
walk.”

“
Don’t be long,” Candace
called. “We need to leave soon.”

When Nicholas stepped outside, Fred
the mailman was just pulling up in his truck.

“
Good morning to you,
Nicholas,” he said with a smile as he handed Nicholas a stack of
mail. “More Christmas cards I’m guessing. Tell Holly and Chris I
made sure their letters to Santa were placed directly into the
North Pole express mailbox.”

Nicholas nodded as he shoved the
envelopes through the mail slot in his front door.

Fred waved and drove off. Nicholas
shook his head. Even the damn mail truck was decorated for the
holidays. Entering the small town, Nicholas passed the sweet shop.
Miss Cringle, a short plump woman with rosy pink cheeks, stuck her
head out of the store window. “Nicholas, please tell Candace the
candy canes she ordered for the tree are ready.”

Again Nicholas nodded. He hurried past
the bank, post office, and police station picking up speed as his
most hated shop in the town, Always Christmas, came into view. Just
as he was even with the door, it opened and the proprietor, Miss
Garland, stepped out.

“
Good morning, Nicholas.
What perfect timing. I was about to go to your house and bring you
the star Candace ordered for the top of the tree. If it’s all right
with you, I’ll let you take it home and save me the
trip.”

Nicholas took in her red elf hat,
blinking Rudolf sweater, and jingle bell skirt with total
revulsion. “You look absolutely ridiculous,” he snarled before
turning and walking away.

He passed a family loaded
down with packages coming out of Winters General Store. Realizing
he hadn’t bought any presents, he hesitated, then shrugged.
Oh, the hell with it, Candace probably has more
than enough.

Ahead, The Nutcracker Tavern, with its
wide porch, stone fireplace, and long oak bar, was one of
Nicholas’s favorite places. He thought about stopping in for an
eggnog or two until he saw the sign advertising live carol singing
every day until Christmas.

Frowning in disgust, he headed toward
the ice-skating pond. Seated on a bench, he gazed across the frozen
water toward the church. It too was resplendent with candles and
wreaths. Adjacent to the church stood a nativity scene complete
with a wooden manger above which hung a golden angel whose eyes
Nicholas could have sworn were staring into his. It had to be his
imagination. The angel was too far away. But a sudden unease
chilled him.

Nicholas glanced around at the
scattering of colorfully decorated houses, a warm glow emanating
from their windows, and a fierce anger began to burn inside him. He
hated everything about this place. Why did he have to grow up here?
Why couldn’t he have been born somewhere normal? Christmas Town.
What a silly name. Where did they think they were, the North Pole?
He laughed derisively. Day after day he had to look at all these
people with their stupid happy faces and jolly Christmas spirits.
Bah humbug is right. There had been so many times he’d thought
about getting on the train and never coming back.

The sound of laughing children
reminded Nicholas that he needed to get home, but still he
hesitated. Why should they all be so joyous when he was so
miserable? The noisy children came into view wearing their red and
green stocking caps, carrying their skates, and pulling a sled.
Nicholas quickly rose and hurried away.

In the middle of town stood a ten-foot
tree covered with lights, red crystal balls, and shiny tinsel. At
its base, plastic elves carried packages to place in a life-size
sleigh complete with Santa and his reindeer. As Nicholas took in
the scene, he realized how much he abhorred the color red. It was
everywhere, from the bows on the street lights to the ribboned
garland strung across the shops. When he looked back at the elves,
Nicholas blinked in surprise. Their sneering faces seemed to mock
him. He could have sworn he heard one of them laughingly ask, “Do
you think anyone really cares how you feel?”

His pulse quickened and he felt every
pounding beat of his heart. He glanced around. The street was
empty. With a snarl, he kicked over each elf, knocked down the
reindeer and punched a hole in Santa’s bulbous nose. Feeling better
than he had all day, he continued toward home.

In his front yard, a snowman stood
wearing his old hat and scarf. Lights intertwined with garland
spread across the porch roof and over the eves. A wreath hung on
the door, and red Christmas bells danced in the wind. His breath
began to come in short gasps. He opened and closed his hands. For a
minute he just stood there, then an uncontrollable rage blossomed
inside him. Everything around him seemed to turn red. With a
bellow, he toppled the snowman. He jerked down the bells and threw
them into the yard, then snatched the wreath from the door and
stomped it beneath his feet. In the corner of the porch stood his
axe.