The Hollow (24 page)

And besides, it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart when I heard him whisper "I'm sorry, Astrid" as I walked away.

Chapter Nineteen

The Perfect Present

Another of his sources of fearful pleasure was, to pass long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives… with a row of apples roasting and spluttering along the hearth, and listen to their marvellous tales of ahosts and aoblins…

"The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

I cried myself to sleep over the next couple of days, and avoided the cemetery and river at all costs. I felt depressed, and awful, and sick at heart. Between this most recent fight and the earlier conversation on "taking it slow," things were not going very well for Caspian and me. The fact that it was almost Christmas made it ten times worse.

Uncle Bob must have picked up on my mood, because he kept asking me if I was feeling okay while I set up the filing system for him. I told him that everything was fine, and I felt great, but I don't think he believed me. Not like I really blamed him, though. I was withdrawn and silent, with permanent purple bags under my eyes. Not exactly the picture of glowing health.

I finally gave in to his persistent badgering and left early on Sunday afternoon. He insisted on paying me for a full day's work, and even threw in a Christmas bonus. I just tried not to cry, and gave him a big hug before meeting Mom outside. The crying thing was getting annoying, but it was happening a lot these days. Luckily, I managed to keep the blubbering to a minimum.

Mom surprised me by stopping at the mall on the way home, saying that I was in dire need of some spontaneous seasonal shopping therapy. I strongly disagreed with her. The
last
place I wanted to be right now was in a crowded shopping center watching all the happy couples strolling by hand in hand sharing Christmas cheer with each other.

Yeah, I definitely wasn't in the mood for
that.

But Mom has always been a brilliant tactician, and she wore me down with promises of free food and new shoes. As we pushed our way through the revolving doors, she made a beeline for the food court, and snagged us some fresh cinnamon rolls and steaming hot chocolate.

As I willingly munched away, I couldn't help but think that Mom should have been a war general or something. She had totally missed her calling. Leaving no room for doubt, she herded me to the shoe store, and, unwittingly, I found myself the new owner of the cutest pair of brown boots.

Damn it,
she was good.

We walked past bell ringers, present wrappers, and Christmas carolers dressed in old-fashioned costumes. From time to time we'd stop in and check out a store, but mostly I was just browsing. We even saw Santa and one very tall, very bored-looking elf, but we thought better of stopping. After we came to the pet store window display and spent a sufficient amount of time ogling the baby kittens, Mom and I decided to split up for a while, and we each went our separate ways.

It didn't take me long to find a new laptop carrying case for her Christmas present, and an electronic baseball trivia thingamajig for Dad. I didn't really have any idea what to get for the Maxwells, and nothing jumped out at me as I continued to look around, so Idecided to wait and give their gift some more thought.

As far as Caspian went… I still didn't know what to do there.

On the one hand, I didn't even know if we were still talking, let alone whatever we were boyfriend-girlfriend-wise. But on the other hand, it just didn't feel right to not get him anything for Christmas. I had to be able to find
some
small gift to give him.

I trekked across the mall and ended up in a sports store, an electronics store, and even a men's clothing store along the way, but still didn't find anything. When I started to seriously eye up tube socks while wondering if I could get them gift wrapped, I knew it was time to stop.

Lugging my bags back to the food court, I stopped to get another hot chocolate before finding a bench. For a while I just sat there at the edge of the crowd and watched the throng of people go by while I blew gently on my drink.

Just as I was taking a tester sip and checking my cell phone to see how much time I had left before I had to meet Mom, someone plopped down next to me. I jerked in surprise, and tried to hold on to the Styrofoam cup. My bags jostled against my legs and I turned, ready to give whoever had sat down an earful.

Mrs. Maxwell sat there, frowning slightly. "I'm sorry, dear; I thought you saw me coming. I never would have snuck up on you if I knew that hot drink was in your hand."

"Not a problem." I tried to casually wave it off, but the drinkwas still in my grasp. So I took a sip. "How have you guys been? I haven't seen you in a while. Did you get some Christmas shopping done?" I noticed her lack of bags and mentally kicked myself. She had one less person to buy for this year, and I had probably just reminded her of that.

"Mostly window-shopping today," she replied. "I haven't bought anything yet since, well, you know. Things will be different this year."

I busied myself with my drink again, and we fell into an awkward silence.

"So… can you believe we got snow already? I hope it's a white Christmas this year." It was lame to talk about the weather, but unfortunately, it was all I had.

"I know," she said. "The snow is so beautiful. I hope it's a white Christmas too. But just snow, not ice. I hate ice."

Sipping slowly, I looked around me, nodding in agreement.
Will it always be this awkward between us?
Kristen's mom had been like a second mother to me, but now it was like we were only the barest of acquaintances. A death could change so many things for so many people. It was heartbreaking.

"Are you going to the New Year's party at the museum?" I asked, hoping that was safer territory.

She shook her head. "I don't think so. We'll probably just stay home this year and keep things quiet. It's for the best."

A
sad look crossed her face, and I could tell she was fighting not to cry. I placed my almost empty cup on the ground next to me and reached for her hand. "I know this Christmas will be difficult for you. Losing Kristen was like losing a limb, and I can
especially
feel your pain. It's going to be hard on all of us." I took a deep breath, and vowed then and there never to tell Kristen's mom about the diaries. She didn't need that hanging over her head.

"I'll see you guys at our house for Christmas dinner, though, right? You can't skip that. And you know
someone
has to help me eat all those dozens of cookies Mom will inevitably make in a fit of madness. You don't want to leave me alone in that, do you? I'll end up gaining, like, fifty pounds, and then I'll definitely be mad at you guys when I'm forced to buy all new clothes."

She laughed and squeezed my hand. "Your mother does whip herself up into quite a cookie frenzy every year. I guess it wouldn't be fair to leave you alone in that misery."

I heaved a large sigh. "You
do
understand. Thank you for taking pity on me and my poor waistline."

She laughed again, and my spirit soared.
Maybe I can get rid of that awkwardness after all
A smile on her face was a definite improvement over tears.

"Same time, same place, then?" I asked in invitation.

She nodded, and the smile stayed on her face. It was so good to see her happy. I wanted to make her stay that way forever. "Youknow," I said softly, "if you ever need to adopt a daughter, even for, like, a couple of hours, I'm all yours. You've always felt like a second mother to me, and I would be honored to repay the favor."

Her eyes misted over at that, and she mouthed "Thank you" before giving me a shaky hug. "I need to get going, honey. I told Harold that I'd meet him in ten minutes. If I don't find him in time, we'll be stuck here for hours looking at the electronics store. You know how men are."

I nodded, and she looked at me for a minute longer, then turned and walked away, quickly becoming a melted shadow lost among all the other shoppers. Since I had a couple more minutes to kill, I decided to go check out the perfume store.

Mom found me ten minutes later, happily sniffing away at several samples. "How did I know I would find you here?"

I didn't even turn around. "Hey, Mom. Are you all done with your shopping?"

"Yes, yes," she said hurriedly. "But we need to leave now. I forgot that I have fifty-four red bows to make for all the shops participating in Christmas in the Hollow. I have to get back home and start those."

"I'm ready to go whenever you are. Do you think my perfumes smell better than these?" I held out the tester tube. "Mine have a stronger scent to them, and not so much of an alcohol after-smell."

She leaned in for a quick whiff and made a face. "Yep, yourssmell better. Now get your bags and let's go."

I capped the sample and picked up my bags before turning to leave. Mom was babbling on and on about how glad she was that only the shops on Main Street were participating and that it wasn't every street, because then she would have five hundred bows to make… blah, blah, blah.

I wasn't paying much attention to her rambling. I was too busy thinking about my Sleepy Hollow perfume project and how I could tie in a holiday theme with it.

We were five feet away from the exit doors when a tiny hole-in-the-wall shop caught my eye. It was a bookstore called Hallowed Words, and the sign on the door stated that they specialized in vintage books. I skidded to a stop, bags flying wildly around me. Mom didn't notice at first, but then she turned back when she hit the outside doors alone.

"I need to make a stop in here," I said quickly. "I'll only be five minutes, I swear."

Her look was disbelieving. "You had all the time in the world earlier, Abbey. Why didn't you go then? I told you I have a lot of work to do tonight."

"Please, Mom? Only five minutes. You can warm up the car and bring it around. I
promise
it will only be five minutes."

She glared. "You better be at the door when I get there.
Fixe minutes."

"Okay," I called over my shoulder, already walking toward the store. I didn't know if I would find anything in there, let alone find it in five minutes, but I had a good feeling.

Stepping through the glass doors was like stepping back in time. The store had a papery old-book smell, and it was nice. I breathed deeply, briefly wondering if I could make a perfume that smelled like old books, but then I was quickly moving on. My five minutes were ticking away, and I realized there was no
way
five minutes would be enough time to spend in here.

Books were literally
everywhere.
Floor to ceiling, row after row. Bookcases were lined up one behind the other, and each one was practically groaning under its full load.

I was doomed. I'd never make it out in time.

Wandering down the first aisle, I kept telling myself that I should leave. It was a waste of time. But I kept walking, and the first aisle led me to the second aisle, and that led me to a third, and then I made a right turn. I was just trying to turn around and give up, when I came to a corner display.

There, on two small brass shelves, were several old books, and the prize was in the center. An antique telescope. As I got closer, I could see that it was a display based on astronomy. My head got a weird buzzing sensation, and I felt a tiny shock run up my spine as I gazed in mute adoration and awe.

This is it.
I had found the perfect gift for Caspian.

The telescope was in amazingly pristine condition. Made of antiqued glass and old metal beauty, it looked like something to be found in a mad scientist's laboratory. It was perfect.

I held my breath as I picked it up, feeling its heavy, solid surface under my fingertips, and I prayed that it was a price I could afford. Visions of price tags marked two hundred, three hundred, and even five hundred dollars kept running through my head, and I desperately hoped that I was wrong.

When the tag revealed the price of fifty dollars slashed in half, and twenty-five dollars marked next to it, I practically broke out into a song and dance. Oh yeah, it was totally mine.

Carefully tucking my treasure under one arm, I turned to the books and picked up one that was beautifully illustrated with drawings of the stars. It was from the early 1900s, and I couldn't believe my good luck. The price tag on that little beauty showed a mere eight dollars, and I quickly added it to my loot.

Knowing that my time had probably come and gone, I tried to find the front of the store, and anxiously waited for the salesperson to come ring up my purchases.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked as she slowly rang things up for me.

"Yes," I replied with a large grin. "I found
exactly
what I was lookina for."

Chapter Twenty

'Tis The Season

Books were flung aside without being put away on the shelves, inkstands were overturned, benches thrown down, and the whole school was turned loose an hour before the usual time, bursting forth like a legion of young imps…

"The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

The last couple of days before Christmas vacation were brutal, and I wasn't the only one tired of studying for midterms. Once class started, attention would quickly turn from what was being written on the board to who was wearing what for the upcoming Christmas dance.

It was bad enough to see the colorful posters leering down at me everywhere with their obnoxious cheerfulness, but that was nothing compared to the stab of loneliness I felt whenever a snippet of conversation would reach my ear.

"Oh my God, I have the most perfect dress! It's red and white

Did / care that the theme of the dance would be winter wonderland romance?

No.

"I heard they're going to make it snow…"

Did / care that there would be delicate glass icicles and mounds of fluffy fake snow covering everything?

No.

"Can you believe there's going to be sleigh rides…"

Did / care that a horse-drawn buggy would be available so you could take a romantic ride outside with your date?

No.

Did / want to go to the stupid dance?

Yes.
Desperately.

It really wasn't fair. I had a boyfriend now. Sure, we weren't exactly seeing eye-to-eye at the moment, but
I
was supposed to be one of those girls deciding what dress I would wear to the dance. Not standing on the outside looking in.

A pang of guilt hit me when I realized that only two months ago I hadn't gone to a dance because Kristen would never have the chance to go. Feeling like a terrible best friend, I promptly banished all thoughts of the dance to the back of my mind, and swore not to think about it again.

The final bell buzzed loudly overhead, and jerked me out of my thoughts. Doors suddenly burst open up and down the long hallway, while voices filled the air. Most of the students didn't even stop at their lockers. They had two weeks of freedom ahead of them, and they wanted out.

I couldn't blame them.

Alone now in the empty corridor, I threw my book bag to the floor and left the zipper wide open. My locker door slammed into the door next to it, but I didn't care. I picked up my English Lit book and tossed it in.

Stupid Christmas dance.

My algebra book was next.

Stupid icicles and fake snow.

Then science.

And the horse will probably poop everywhere.

The dull thuds were strangely satisfying, and I threw in the last couple of books with vehemence. I was completely out of ammo now, and my locker looked hollow and forlorn. Then I looked down and saw dozens of gum wrappers, balled-up pieces of notebook paper, and chewed pencils scattered along the bottom.

Time for a quick clean-out.

Taking advantage of the clear hallway, I dragged over the nearest garbage can. It was made of very old, very loud monstrous metal and it made an ungodly screeching noise. I fought and pulled and generally pleaded with the thing to please cooperate with me, even if only a little. Fortunately, it chose to cooperate, and half the battle was over once I parked it next to my locker.

I started hurling in gum wrappers, forgotten class notes from last semester, an old science test that I had looked everywhere for, a handful of ratty pencils, a picture of Kristen and me-

The picture went sailing by before I even had a chance to recognize it, and then it was too late. As I stared down into that deep pile of nasty garbage, I knew I couldn't leave it there. The picture had been taken last year on a school field trip, and it was the only copy I had.

At first I tried to just reach my arm in, staying carefully away from the goopy sides. But I came up short. About six inches too short. I wished for someone tall to still be hanging around who could suddenly appear and get it for me, but a quick glance downthe hall told me there was zero chance of that happening. I was alone and it was up to me.

So I went in…

Holding my breath, and placing a piece of scrap paper as a barrier between my shirt and the can, I bent over and lunged for all I was worth. There wasn't much light once I was inside, so I was reaching blindly until I felt the photo. I also managed to somehow grab a half-eaten candy bar while I was at it, but I quickly let that drop and hauled ass out of there.

I lifted myself up and out of the trash can, trying to swing my hair out of the way. Then I backed up a step, picture firmly in hand, and promptly ran into someone. Dread instantly bloomed in the pit of my stomach as I realized that whoever was behind me had just witnessed my Dumpster dive.

Not exactly one of my finest moments.

I turned around slowly. Ben's laughing brown eyes began to come into focus, and he had a strange look on his face, like he was holding in a snort and a laugh at the same time. I hung my head as my cheeks went red. "It's not what you think. I dropped something accidentally in there and had to get it out. That was the only way."

He shook his head and still had that strange look on his face. Only at my insistent "Go ahead" did he double over and burst into gales of laughter. But at least it didn't last long.

"I'm sorry, Abbey," he said, wiping away tears. "Really, Ididn't mean to laugh
at
you. It was just a funny picture. I thought maybe you were going after a sandwich in there or something." He gave me a silly grin, and I grinned back. It was infectious.

I leaned against my locker and wedged my hip against it for support, abandoning all attempts to look cool. What possibly could have made Ben choose
this
moment to find me?

He gave me a serious smile and glanced over at my locker door nervously. "So, how are things going for you, Abbey?"

For a moment, deja vu hit. Hadn't I already been asked this before? "Things are good," I answered, after the feeling passed. "What about you?"

"Good… They've been good for me, too," he said. "I started dating Amanda Reynolds. We've been going out for the last month or so."

Amanda Reynolds.
The name tickled the back of my brain, but I couldn't place it. "Sony.1 don't think I know her."

He looked back at the locker and then down at the garbage can. "We, uh, went to prom together."

My lips made the sound before I even thought it. "Oooooooh." Yellow dress. From prom night. The one who'd said I was a bitch.

"It's not like it's serious or anything." He shrugged. "But who wants to be alone at Christmas?"

I nodded my head slowly.
Yeah, who wants to be alone atChristmas?

He looked me in the eye for a second and hesitated, almost like he was waiting for me to say something. I stayed silent, and he continued on. "So anyway, how are things with you and what's his name?"

"Caspian," I supplied. "His name is Caspian. And things are good, I guess. We're trying to figure some stuff out. But it's all good."

He nodded, and we both stood there in an awkward silence. Ben was the one to break the stalemate. "Here." He pulled something out of his back pocket. "This is for you." He held out a red envelope, and I looked at it in surprise.

"It's just a Christmas card," he said, answering my silent question. "Not a big deal. Just, you know, cuz 'tis the season and all."

I looked down at the card again, dumbfounded. He had gotten a Christmas card for me? I hadn't gotten one from anyone else. It was a high school tradition that you exchange Christmas cards with all of your friends each year, but since Kristen and I had only been friends with each other, that had left our card list fairly short.

"I don't know what to say." It was true, I really didn't. I hadn't even taken the card yet.

"Don't say anything. Just take the card." He held it out closer to me, and I took it, pathetically grateful.

"Thank you, Ben. This means a lot to me."

Seeing that the picture I'd worked so hard to rescue from the garbage can was still in my hand, I thrust it at him. "I want you to have this."

He tried to protest at first, but I wouldn't budge. Finally he accepted it. I didn't miss the fact that he touched Kristen's smiling face before he tucked it into his pocket. Ducking his head, he turned shy on me. "I have to go. You take care, Abbey, and Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, you too," I called out to him as he turned and started to walk away. "Happy Holidays."

I waited and didn't open the envelope from Ben until I started walking home. There was just a generic Happy Holidays card inside, signed with his name, but it really
did
mean a lot to me. I felt terrible that I didn't have one for him, but it was too late now. If I gave him one when we got back to school, I'd look like someone who was obviously just returning the favor.

Oh, well. At least there was next year.

When I finally got home, I heaved a sigh of relief as I shrugged the book bag off of my aching shoulders and let it drop to the floor in a graceless heap. I didn't even care that Mom would probably yell at me later for leaving it in the middle of the hallway. It just didn't matter.

I walked toward the kitchen and went through the motions of grabbing a snack before heading up to my room. After turning on the computer, I rested my head in my hands as I waited for it to boot up. I was so tired. Exhaustion was a constant companion of mine.

The computer clicked and beeped and whirred, and when all the noises stopped, I knew it was good to go. I signed on to the Internet and took my time checking my e-mail. Then I browsed through a couple of familiar shopping websites. Most of them were offering FREE! EXPEDITED SHIPPING! for the holidays, and once again my mind turned to presents. I mentally checked off the list in my head of who was already bought for, and that left me with only Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell.

Still unsure of what to get them, I typed "unique gifts" into a search engine box and hit enter. Within seconds dozens of listings popped up on my screen. I was unhappy with all of them until I finally came upon a site advertising to name a star after someone.

Ten minutes later I was sold. Naming a star for Kristen would be the
perfect
gift. The Maxwells would
love
it. I quickly clicked my way to the checkout, wincing at the fact that FREE! EXPEDITED SHIPPING! was not offered on
this
website, and in order to get my certificate of notice in time for Christmas, it would cost me an extra thirty-two dollars.

But I chose it anyway, since it was Christmas after all, and Uncle Bob
had
given me a bonus. As I entered Mom's credit cardnumber from memory, I sternly reminded myself to give her the money for it later.

Thoughts of Uncle Bob brought to mind the fact that I had totally forgotten about getting a gift for him, so I started clicking my way through more websites. It was even harder finding something for him, and a couple moments later I turned the computer off, frustrated to no end. When had shopping become so difficult?

I shoved my chair back and stood up, pacing over to the window seat. Outside, a light snow was falling, and the frosty scene was beautiful and calm. Inside, though, I felt nothing but worry and anxiousness. I desperately wanted to go to the cemetery and find Caspian.

Deciding that a distraction was in order, I grabbed my coat and headed downstairs. To keep my mind off of things, this time I would go in the
opposite
direction of the cemetery. Main Street. And maybe I would even find something for Uncle Bob while I was at it.

I remembered my gloves this time, and quickly pulled them on as I walked. Within minutes the first shop came into view. It was absolutely beautiful, and I stopped to gaze at the decorations. Tiny red bows and green garland accentuated by silver glass balls hung from the outside of the store, while strings of popcorn and twinkling white lights covered the inside.

Looking around me, I noticed that this wasn't the only decorated storefront. The neighbors had really gone all out. I strolled slowly, observing the big red bow on each shop's front door. That was surely Mom's handiwork. She had created the perfect bow of course, and it definitely added the right touch.

Even the street corners had been decorated, and a large old-fashioned gas lamp sat on each corner. The dancing flames flickering behind the covered glass shade starkly illuminated the still-falling flakes of snow. It was a sight to see, and I briefly felt like I had been transported back in time.

The next window I passed was bare and empty, but I stopped. It was my shop. Or my future shop, anyway. I reached out one hand and lovingly ran my finger over the dirty glass. The painted wooden frame was chipped and peeling, but I didn't care. It was waiting for me. This would be my baby one day. I daydreamed about how I would set it up.

Maybe I would use an old claw-foot bathtub and mismatched armoires to display my wares. I could have a reading section, with a library of old books, featuring all of Washington living's works. Or perhaps there would be antique tables, and apothecary bottles. An old-fashioned beauty store of sorts. The possibilities were endless.

My thoughts ran wild, but I reluctantly pulled myself away from the window. I didn't have very much time left before all of the shops would start to close, and I'd be seeing Uncle Bob tomorrow.

I needed to find him a present, and I needed to find it fast.

A tiny florist shop yielded me the perfect gift for Uncle Bob, and he was thrilled with the world's best boss mug that I presented to him at work on Saturday. He made sure to bring it in each time he came to check on me, holding it up so I could see he was using it. I barely got any work done at all.

On Sunday he seemed content to let the mug sit on his desk, and I finally got to start a new project. When it was time for Mom to come pick me up that evening, I reminded Uncle Bob that I would see him in two weeks, and told him yet again that he was very welcome for the mug. I hurried out of there before he got the chance to go pick it up again.