The Christmas Throwaway (4 page)

"So, a cop then?" Zach mirrored the style of the question Ben had asked him, a shy, almost nervous look on 34

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his face as he again ducked his head. Ben felt his heart twist, just wanting to reach out and pull Zach into his arms and hug him and tell him it was okay to ask questions.

"Yep, year one in this town, lowest rung on the ladder. I'm on duty from eight a.m. tomorrow, and I get to cover Christmas Eve, New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, Thanksgiving, and the Fourth, but yeah, it's a good job."

"Ben, can I ask you a question?" Ben nodded, and Zach sucked in a deep breath and blurted the question out.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty four. Though I don't feel like it. Twenty-four, my own place, and I still come over and steal hot chocolate and marshmallows from my mom," he added, then winced, falling over himself to apologize as Zach immediately retreated into himself, pulling his knees up and wrapping an arm around them in full-on self-protection mode. "Zach, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Hey, no, she's your mom, and she is a cool mom.

My mom just stood by and let my dad get on with it. She cooked, cleaned, had me and my sister; it was her role in life. Not sure she ever made me hot chocolate or gave me anything anywhere near protection from dad."

"I'm so sorry, Zach."

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"Honestly, I am so over what they did. They don't know what they've lost, 'cause one day I am gonna be rich and famous and married to the most gorgeous guy on the planet. We'll adopt three kids, and live on a ranch with horses and dogs, and then they will come running back, and I will just tell them all to fuck off." Zach's voice rose in volume with each sentence, until the last profanity was near shouted, before he realized what he had said and buried his head into his knees, his face bright red.

Ben just chuckled.

"Tell you what, Zach, you give me their address and I'll tell them to fuck off for you." Zach raised suspiciously bright eyes to Ben and gave a watery smile, his heart on his sleeve again.

"Thank you."

They both heard the door rattle, and the rush of cold air was a nasty reminder of what was waiting for Zach tomorrow night. Ben looked at Zach, saw that he'd gone pale, and wondered what was wandering through his head.

He seemed lost in thought.

"Benny?" Ben saw Zach tense as Ellie came stumbling into the front room, gloves and scarves thrown everywhere, and her bright green coat dumped at her feet.

Ben checked his watch.

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"Two-fifteen, Ells Bells, and don't call me Benny,"

Ben said, looking back, very pointedly, at his watch. Ellie had the grace to blush and picked up her coat, probably realizing antagonizing big brother or Mom was not going to counteract a break in curfew.

"Who's your new friend, Benny?"

"Enough with the Benny, and this is Zach. He's our house guest." Ellie waved a hello, and offered a
"hey"

before declaring herself ready for bed and sashaying off down the hall.

"Is she in deep shit?" Zach asked carefully, eyes widening as Ben chuckled.

"Nah, Mom will tell her she is not so lucky her brother is a cop, because if she breaks curfew one more time then she will get me to arrest her boyfriend."

"Oh." Zach sounded so damn serious and worried that Ben felt he should point out that his mom had been joking.

"I don't know what is going on in your freaky head, but that is what we call a joke around here, Stretch."

"Oh," Zach repeated.
Again with the blushing
, Ben thought. He encouraged Zach up the stairs after that, explaining that the town's idea of being on duty was making sure Ben had access to a phone and was in uniform.

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"Doesn't mean I miss Christmas breakfast or present opening, but I do need to be up at six."

"Uh huh."

"You okay in this room on your own?" He cast a critical eye around his brother's old room, focusing on the worn furniture and the posters, the cups and trophies that Mom had kept, the boxes in the corner for Goodwill, and wondered what Zach felt when he saw this. "It isn't much,"

he began, but he didn't get any further as Zach interrupted his flow of conversation.

"It's awesome," Zach said, sounding eager and thankful. He wrapped his long arms around his body, hugging himself. "It's a bed."

Zach's excitement was infectious, like a child's

before Christmas morning. Ben smiled warmly. For the first time since he'd started his new job as a cop in his hometown, he felt like he was making a difference in someone's life. He didn't discount finding lost dogs and mediating neighborly disputes, but to have taken Zach in, this sparkly-eyed innocent who was lost to his family…

Well that made him feel very good.

"Sleep well." He started to leave, then on impulse turned back, taking a single step and pulling Zach in for a quick hug. He released him immediately and left the room, 38

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throwing, "Merry Christmas, Zach," behind him as he closed the door.

Zach just stood. Immobile. He wrapped his arms

around himself, warm from Ben's touch, and suddenly grinned like an idiot. Leaving his clothes on, with the lessons in his head that he had learned on the street, he climbed under the soft quilt and snuggled down, his heart a thousand times lighter. This could be the biggest turnaround in Christmas history, from church bench to warm home and a family in the space of two hours. It didn't even matter that it was only for one night.

It was a Christmas miracle.

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Mark took the steps three at a time, landing with a thud on the wooden hall floor and skidding to a halt by the front door. It wasn't that he was in any particular hurry to answer the knock at six in the morning on Christmas Day, but that was how he did everything in life, always at full speed.

"Coming," he called, dodging Annabelle, who scurried through the foyer with a brightly-colored package in her hands, and pulled open the front door. He blinked at the man standing there, his best friend since he was two, in his uniform and looking both serious and very cold.

Quickly, Mark drew him inside, pushing the door shut behind him and watching as his friend stamped snow from his police-issue boots.

"Mark, do you have a minute?"

"Hey, Ben. Official visit?" It was the usual question from Mark, a standard joke whenever Ben arrived at their door in uniform. Now Mark was waiting for Ben's standard reply, usually something along the lines of crimes against short people. This was because Mark had towered over Ben since the famous growth spurt in his sixteenth year.

Instead, Ben just shook his head, and Mark paused.

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His friend looked so damn serious, and something in him made him glance at his wife as she joined him, trying to hold their wriggling daughter for a Christmas hello to Uncle Ben.

"Do you need a lawyer at the station?" Mark asked carefully. He hadn't been called to the station in his official capacity before. He dealt with land issues and wills and there wasn't a lot of need for a criminal lawyer in Hill Valley. When his friend didn't immediately reply, he thought maybe it was his wife that Ben needed. Melanie had been the town doctor since her father retired four years before and was older than Mark; a fact Ben never let him forget. Maybe it was her help that Ben needed?

Ben shook his head.

"Kinda just need some help," he started. "I got a call out to St. Margaret's last night, someone spotted a kid hanging round the graveyard, and when I got there…" He paused. This whole Zach thing wasn't exactly official; he hadn't even reported what he had found for the

administrative records. "There was this kid, like seventeen, scrawny, exhausted. I took him home with me, well, to Mom's."

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"Do you need me to come over?" Melanie

immediately asked, and Ben smiled. It was to his friend's credit that she didn't even stop to question why he would take a complete stranger into the family home. Added to that, it was Christmas day, she wasn't officially on call, and she was holding his godchild in her arms. He didn't think he could love her more.

Mark on the other hand was frowning, clearly

focusing on the stranger-in-your-home part. Ben could see that.

"Maybe later, but at the moment he just seems exhausted and really damn hungry."

"No signs of hypothermia?" Melanie asked, snapping into doctor mode, but all Ben could do was shrug and look sheepish. He wasn't even sure he was fully aware of the symptoms of hypothermia. Melanie continued, "Did you see any of the umbles? I mean stumbles, mumbles, fumbles, and grumbles. If he showed any signs of these, it could indicate the gradual reduction in coordination of muscles and movement, and a falling level of

consciousness."

"Is it just me or did you find that whole doctor list hot?" Mark said with a leer, but all Ben did was blink and shake his head.

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"Umbles? No, nothing as serious as that. Maybe his coordination was a bit shot, but he was cold and tired, and he was eating Momma's soup like there was no tomorrow."

Melanie nodded, putting a wriggling Annabelle

down on the floor and straightening.

"Well, I'm here if you need me. I mean, I need to go check on the Joneses a bit later anyway. Emma is due tomorrow, so I'll be over your way." Ben smiled thankfully, knowing he would feel better if Melanie could just check his young visitor over, if only by sight.

There was another reason he had dropped in though, and it was more to do with the fact that Mark was freakishly tall than anything else.

"One other thing though, I need your fugly sweater, man." Mark's eyes widened.
The
Christmas sweater was a legend. It was hand-knitted with great love by the formidable Mrs. Aniston, Mark's mom, throughout the year and wrapped with tender care for her son to open on Christmas day.

"My sweater?" Ben almost snorted out loud at the look of complete indignation on Mark's face.

"And some jeans man, if you can spare them." Mark blinked with a regular
huh
? on his face. "He's tall, man,"

Ben explained, waving his hand above his head in a gesture 43

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of height, waiting for Mark to make the connection.

It was Melanie that disappeared into the laundry

room, coming out with two clean pairs of jeans, two freshly ironed shirts, and last year's fugly sweater. She handed that to Ben, and then crossed to the tree, rummaging under it for a few of the many gifts that were piled there. With an exclamation of success she gathered together packages and added them to Ben's arms.

"This year's fugly sweater," she listed, "some smelly stuff, Christmas socks, and some Santa boxers." She looked up at Mark briefly, who wasn't that fazed by the fact his gifts were disappearing from under the tree.

"Thank you, Mel." Ben pulled her into a clumsy one-handed hug, the clothes clutched close to him, and then he moved to the front door.

"Take care, Ben." Mark knew his voice was full of questions and of warnings, but Ben clearly wasn't ready to answer them.

"You coming over tomorrow?" his friend asked as he made to leave.

"Wouldn't miss it, man," Mark answered, putting an arm around his wife as Ben took the step outside and pulled the door shut behind him.

"Thanks, babe." Mel squeezed him tightly.

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"My presents, Mel…" Mark couldn't stop the disappointment filtering into his voice. Whatever the reason, it wasn't as if he actually received that many presents now he was a dad. Mel just chuckled and tucked her head up under his chin.

"I'll owe you one." Mark looked over his wife's head at Annabelle who stood in the front room inches away from the presents under the tree.

"I'm holding you to that."

The cold was a slap to his warm face, and he

shrugged the collar of his coat higher around his neck, shivering at the wind chill. He wished he could explain to Mark but if
he
didn't understand fully why he had taken Zach into the family home, then how the hell was he going to explain it to his best friend? He needed to go back for a bit, drop the clothes off, check in with his momma and make sure Zach was doing okay. Drawing in a deep breath of frigid air, he began the short walk. He passed few people. Seemed he was the only idiot out this early on a snowy Christmas Day. It was beautiful.
His
town was crusted with the white stuff, the frost climbing windows, multicolored lights adorning the houses, glimpses of trees 45

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inside the windows. A gorgeous painting.

Some questioned why he stayed, why with his

college degree in his hand he chose to come home to work in the small police department when he could have done better for himself in Harrisonburg or Charlottesville.

Ben never questioned it, just went with his heart.

Hill Valley, Virginia, nestled in the Shenandoah Valley was
his
town, and he wanted to be part of the tapestry of its history. As much as the Mercantile on Main, or Mr. Perkins who was a shade under ninety; Mr. P, who sat on the bench outside the very same shop, dispensing wisdom from the bottom of his whisky bottle.

When he arrived back home, Zach was still asleep, and his momma and Ellie were curled up on the sofa with breakfast. They both came to help Ben with the wrapped gifts.

"Who is he, Benny?" Ellie asked softly.