The Past Follows, Chapter OneA Chapter by SweetNutmegChristmas in MiltonThe Past Follows
Chapter One
I woke up fighting something that wasn't there. I'd slept through my alarm, the neighbors used all the hot water and I left my wallet upstairs. Standard s****y morning. Ordinarily my boss, Heidi, was no slave driver. She didn't mind occasional tardiness. Not this day though. Christmas Eve isn't the best day to be late when you work in retail.
I pulled into the parking lot behind the toy shop five minutes late. The usual stock room smell of fresh paper and plastics was overlaid with cinnamon and ginger. It smelled delicious... the first three days of the Christmas season. It had become obnoxious after that, lingering in my clothes and hair, even in my coat. It was nerve grating to hear every single customer exclaim "Oh it smells so good in here!" as they entered the store.
“Karen, get your a*s in here!” Heidi yelled as she opened the cash register with a ding. I bundled up my long blonde hair into a quick braid and joined Heidi behind the counter. She was counting out the cash drawer, inserting the money into the till of the cash register. I started my opening routine, turning on banks of lights, setting the model trains into motion, and making sure the window displays had not suffered any mishaps overnight. I righted one over turned miniature fir tree in the middle display. At 10 o'clock, Heidi flipped the open sign and unlocked the door. A small crowd had already collected around the shop windows and customers began to drift in.
Working in a toy shop can be fun. Heidi trusted me to design and deploy window displays, which allowed me to be creative. No creativity today, though. I'd be hard pressed to keep up with the crowd we'd be seeing. It was my duty to keep the place in some kind of order, and assist Heidi at the register as needed. My job didn't pull down the big bucks, but I was well paid for a shop assistant. Well enough to be independent.
Just past lunch (a hurried sandwich in the stock room) we had a major avalanche of model train cars and it spilled over into the window display. I righted the last overturned miniatire Christmas tree in the window and was backing away when I felt something brush my a*s. I quickly turned, amazed someone would try to grope me in a toy store. I knew I had a figure that inspired such attention, but really, this was pushing it too far. I met the eye of an entirely embarrassed man, holding the offending kite kit that had just rubbed me. His arms were full and it was no surprise he had trouble managing his bundle of goodies.
"I'm so sorry," he ducked and bowed, almost demolishing the stack of ginger bread cookie tins. I quickly assessed the situation.
"Here, let me," I said as I relieved him of the kite, two stuffed pandas and a slinky. He was as disheveled as he was clumsy, with short curly brown hair sprawling above wide blue eyes. His shabby tweed jacket matched his battered jeans and scuffed loafers. We were almost eye to eye, but then, most men are as I am 5'10".
"Come with me, we can stow these behind the counter for you." I led the way to the swamped cash register counter. Tucking the items into a corner, I turned to relieve him of his other boxes and parcels.
"You can keep shopping, we'll have these things right here for you," I assured him. When he hesitated, I asked if I could help him find anything.
"Well," he began, "I need one more gift, for my dad. Some kind of logic puzzle maybe. Could you show me where the adult toys are?"
I looked at him. Had I heard him right? Was this some kind of joke? Adult toys?
No, it wasn't a joke, because he suddenly turned beet red.
"Not that kind... I mean, not like that..." he stammered. I took pity on him.
"I know just the place for you to look," leading him to the 12+ area. "Here you go, all of these items are designed for ages 12 and up." Heidi signaled me urgently and I hustled off to the cash register to assist.
I was rather pleased when he approached the cash register just as I finished up an elderly lady with a doll. I scanned his items, impressed with the number and variety of his selections. He looked young to have children, but you never can tell.
"Lots of good kids on Santa's list this year?" I inquired.
"For my nephews. My brothers have swamped me with nephews. I'm up to my eyeballs in them."
I bagged his last items. His debit card read: "James McDowell" It suited him. My eyes locked with his intense blue ones as I handed him his receipt. Feeling a bit foolish, I smiled and thanked him.
Christmas day I managed to launder every single item of clothing and piece of linen in the entire apartment. I'd also polished the furniture, cleaned out the fridge and vacuumed under the bed and couch. Feeling quite pleased with myself, I showered off the dust and sweat and got into comfy pjs. I popped in "It's a Wonderful Life," and settled down for a cozy evening.
But I found myself restless and moody, unable to concentrate. I had instructed myself that moping was not allowed, that I would just have to keep busy and plan a special treat for myself for the evening. Finally I gave up on the movie. I got dressed and decided to find an open restaurant. Seeing other people, even strangers, would be better than being at home with unhappy thoughts of the past.
Denny's was the only place open at 9 o'clock on Christmas night. I was mulling over the menu when I was surprised by none other than James McDowell, appearing to take my order. I felt my face blossom into a smile. A friendly, familiar person, even if only a customer, was very welcome on what had been quickly becoming a dismal evening.
"How are your nephews?" I asked.
"Little savages, one and all. They are in bed, exhausted from being naughty all day long."
"Oh, you don't fool me. You love them, don't you?" Feeling suddenly mischievous, I added, "And how did your father enjoy his adult toy?"
He blushed again, but took my ribbing in a friendly way. "He likes his puzzle cube quite well, thank you. What can I get you?”
I pointed out my selection, he jotted it down, and I watched him walk away, feeling much happier.
James brought out my order, topped off my coffee and quickly moved on to his next customers. I cheerfully tucked into my pancakes. But when a waitress brought me my check, I was disappointed. I had expected James to bring it to me.
"Where's James?" I asked.
"He's off at ten." I glanced at my phone. Damn, 10:15. I was hoping to see his blue eyes and his smile one last time.
I finished my meal and paid up. In the parking lot I jumped back in surprise as someone approached me from the side of the building. Clutching my chest, I panted "Oh my god James, you scared me!" He was holding a poinsettia. Well, actually, he wasn't just holding it.. he was presenting it to me.
"I hope you don't mind.. I thought you might like.. It's not nice being alone on Christmas," came tumbling out. He steadied himself, slowed down and said, "Would you like to have a drink? At Molly's?"
I thought of my clean, empty apartment. I didn't want to go back there. Having a drink with a strange man? Well, Molly's was a public place and I'd drive myself in my own car. Why not?
"Sure." I smiled into those deep blue eyes.
When I reached Molly's, James was loitering just outside, waiting for me. He held the door and we navigated the crowded pub. James found us seats in an alcove near the pool table. As he helped me off with my coat, he asked, “What can I get for you?”
I automatically said “Bohemia.”
“You can't drink Mexican beer in an Irish bar. It's utter blasphemy.” I felt a bit silly, realizing he was right.
“Tell you what, let me get us a couple of half pints, and if you don't like it, we can get you something else.”
I settled into a creaking leather chair at a table lit by a green shaded reading lamp. It was warm and cozy, quite the Irish pub. The walls were covered with photos of famous Irishmen and famous Irish pubs. The long wooden bar gleamed darkly, with the traditional mirror and range of bottles behind. There was a convivial crowd; we were lucky to get a table.
James quickly returned carrying two mugs of beer. As he settled into his chair, I cautiously sipped my beer. It was good. Different, but good. I took another sip.
“You're smiling. You must like it. This is Harp, an Irish lager.” He sipped his as well.
“So you're Irish?” I preferred keeping the focus on others.
“No, not me. I'm Scottish,” he said with pride.
“Do you wear those kilts? The plaid ones?”
“Only once. I visited Scotland with my whole family and my father insisted I wear proper Highland Dress. That's where I got this.” He displayed one arm of his tweed jacket. It seemed less coarse than ordinary tweed. I touched the cuff and it was silky wool.
“And a kilt?”
“Yes, a kilt. Why are women so fascinated by the kilt?”
“We all want to know what you wear underneath.”
James's blush was faint, and he covered his embarrassment well, but I could tell. I changed gears.
“And what are those bag things? And what kind of plaid was it? There are family plaids, right?”
“The bag is called a sporran. We wore the MacDowell clan tartan, a sort of plaid. It's beautiful, actually. Blue and green.”
“I'd like to see that one day.”
“I think we can arrange that.” His genuine smile warmed me. And here we were, already talking about seeing each other again. I'd barely met him. But those blue eyes pulled me in.
Talk moved on. I was new to Milton, and he was able to tell me much about his hometown.
“How did you end up here?” he asked.
“I moved here with my ex a few months ago. He got a job offer here at the paper mill, and I came along.” That had gone bad quickly. As in, a trip to the ER, two broken fingers, sundry bruises, and talking to victim's services about domestic violence.
“Your ex?” James asked. I squirmed inside. I didn't want to talk about Justin. James must have realized this and talk quickly moved on. I learned more about Scotland and James's family, and there was more general discussion of traveling and staying home, various cities we had visited, cities we would love to see.
When the bartender announced last call, it surprised me. I couldn't believe we had talked until 1:30 in the morning. I definitely needed to get home as I had to work tomorrow.
"I'll walk you to your car," James insisted. I was glad. I'd had to park several blocks away in the middle of downtown. Lucky for me he was a true gentleman and stayed until I got into my car. Because I couldn't start the car. The engine wouldn't even turn over. Shivering, I shone my flashlight to light our cars as he hooked up my jumper cables. It was 2:30 am and bitterly cold when we finally gave up.
"I'll call an Uber."
I got out my phone, but James stopped me. It didn't take much convincing to get me to accept a ride. We set off in his 20 year old Subaru station wagon. Our easy conversation continued the few miles to my apartment. I turned to thank him for the poinsettia, the drinks, the company, and met those bright blue eyes.
"You've saved me a lot of money, Karen," James said confidentially.
"How's that? You wiped us out yesterday, buying up the store for your nephews."
"If you hadn't come into the restaurant on Christmas night, I would have been reduced to buying toy after toy just to get a glimpse of you.. and work my way up to asking you out."
"Hey, I'm easy.. just poke me in the a*s and ask for the adult toys. That'll win my heart every time."
I couldn't see him blushing but I knew he was. I relented. "James, I'm very glad we met up again, I had a good time." I turned to face him more directly. "The poinsettia was sweet." I had it in my lap, the top leaves were tickling my chin.
"Can I call you?" he asked. "Maybe we could do it again?"
I gave him my number, and then impulsively gave his cheek a quick kiss.
© 2023 SweetNutmegAuthor's Note
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8 Reviews Added on June 4, 2023 Last Updated on June 8, 2023 AuthorSweetNutmegAboutI'm on hiatus and returning no reviews. I am sorry to say I don't do poetry. At all. As in, never. Not even for you. more..Writing
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