The Mistletoe Secret

  We tied the tree to the roof of my Ford with my fifty feet of nylon rope and drove back to Aria’s, where we untied it and carried it to her front porch. I didn’t need to brush any snow off the tree, as the drive back had done that for us.

  While I carried the tree in, Aria set up the stand in the corner of her front room. It took several tries to get the tree into the stand, but I eventually did, with the bare spot ­facing the wall, and we clamped it in place. The tree fit nicely in the corner, and we sat on the floor to admire it. Then I got the decorations from my car and we strung the lighting first, and then, one by one, the baubles.

  As Aria went through the sack of decorations, she lifted out the package of mistletoe. “What’s this for?”

  I looked at her innocently, then shrugged. “It’s a secret.”

  “A mistletoe secret.” She opened the package and put the sprig in her hair. Then she took my hand and pulled me over to the couch. We didn’t finish the tree for several hours after that.

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-four

  “I know what we should do tomorrow,” Aria said, rolling off me. The room was dark, lit only by the colorful flashing lights of the Christmas tree.

  “More of this,” I said.

  “No. I mean, yes, of course, but we can’t do this all day.”

  “You have all day?”

  “I got tomorrow off.”

  “You said you had to work.”

  “I can work any day. But how often do I get you?”

  I went to kiss her again, but, still smiling, she pushed me away. “Hold on. So, about tomorrow. As long as you’re in Utah, I think we should go skiing.”

  “Snow skiing?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, waterskiing.”

  “I’ve never skied before. Not a lot of opportunity in central Florida.”

  “So?”

  “You’ll teach me?”

  “No. But I’ll enroll you in a class and come with you to laugh.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “It’s a date,” she said.

  The next morning I picked Aria up at eight o’clock. We stopped by the diner for coffee, biscuits, and eggs, then headed off to Deer Valley Resort, which was a bit more ­expensive than Park City but less crowded.

  I took a two-hour lesson with a bunch of kids (except for a teenager from Jamaica, I was the only one older than seven), then we went up on the slopes. I didn’t look cool, but I only fell twice on the beginner hills and, at the end of the day, went down an intermediate hill with Aria without killing myself. She made it look pretty easy, and I assumed that she was an expert.

  By four o’clock we were exhausted—at least I was—and we returned my skis, then I treated her to dinner at the lodge.

  After we had ordered I asked, “Have you ever skied the black diamond?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but I don’t like working that hard.”

  “So you do this a lot?”

  “Rarely.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She looked at me as if she was surprised I didn’t know. “I’m a girl of limited means.”

  At that moment I remembered the Tiffany pendant I’d bought in Salt Lake City. “May I give you something for Christmas?” I asked.

  She smiled. “Yes. If I can give you something.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I know what I want,” she said. “If you can afford it.”

  “Try me.”

  “I want to spend Christmas with you.”

  After dinner we drove back to Midway. We went back to her house for coffee and ended up on the couch in front of the tree. Aria was quiet for a little while, then set down her coffee. “May I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “You said you’re done looking for LBH. And you had made a mistake.”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay,” I said. “Do you know someone named Lynette Hurt?”

  “Yes, she’s a massage therapist over by the community center. I went to her a while back when I hurt my shoulder.” She thought a moment, then said, “Lynette Hurt. Lynette Bucher Hurt. LBH. You thought it was her.”

  “Yes. And Ray thought it was her. He was the one who told me about her. When I went to see her I found out that she was leaving town, so it was my only chance to really check her out.”

  Aria cocked her head. “Check her out?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” I said.

  “She is pretty,” Aria said.

  “I didn’t notice.”

  “Yeah, right.” Aria took another sip of coffee and then said, “So how did you know it wasn’t her?”

  “I gave her edelweiss.”

  To my surprise, Aria’s expression abruptly changed. She was quiet for a moment, then she said, “You gave her edelweiss?”

  “Yeah. But it meant nothing to her. Edelweiss was an important thing to the real LBH.”

  Suddenly Aria’s eyes welled up with tears.

  “Why are you crying?” I asked softly. When she didn’t ­answer, I said, “I’m sorry, it didn’t mean anything to me. I just had to know if it was her . . .”

  Tears began to fall down Aria’s cheeks. Suddenly it was as if a curtain had been pulled back from my mind. I understood. “You’re LBH.”

  Aria just looked at me. She looked afraid.

  “Aria.”

  Nothing.

  “Aria, who is LBH?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Aria, tell me.”

  “I don’t know!” she shouted.

  I could feel my face turning red. “What are you hiding from me? Who is LBH?”

  “She’s someone you said you cared about.”

  “Aria!”

  She looked at me, then shouted, “Lonely Broken Heart, okay? Are you happy?”

  I stood. Something she said had flipped some subconscious trigger. I felt my skin turn hot. I felt something crashing inside me, like the moment I found the note from Clark in Jill’s pants.

  “You’ve been lying to me. You knew I was looking for you. You knew this whole time.”

  “I didn’t know this whole time. I didn’t know until you told me you were looking for LBH. I was already in love with you.”

  “You said you didn’t know who she was.”

  “You asked me if I knew anyone with those initials. I didn’t. I told you the truth.”

  “That’s not the truth. You knew what I was really asking. You knew, and you deceived me. Just like Jill. You’re no different than Jill.” I put my hand on my forehead and walked to the side of the room. I felt like a madman. I was a madman. It was as if my brain had been hijacked by my deepest fears.

  “I’ve spent the last five years listening to lies and secrets. All I wanted from you was honesty. I fell in love with LBH because she was honest. And you gave me more lies.”

  “Please don’t make me pay for what your wife did. What was I supposed to do?”

  I spun around. “You were supposed to tell me the truth! Was that asking too much?”

  Aria began sobbing. “I wanted to. But I was afraid. I was afraid I might lose you.”

  “For telling the truth? It’s not the truth—it’s the lies that get you into trouble. Just like when you lied to the police about your father!”

  I regretted the words even before they came out of my mouth. Aria froze. It was as if I’d slugged her. I suppose I had done worse than that. For a moment she couldn’t talk. She couldn’t even breathe. Then she fell forward to her knees, holding her sides and shaking. Without looking at me, she said, “Please leave. Please leave me. Please don’t ever come back.”

  I felt sick. I wished I could take the words
back, but it was too late. I had said too much. Strikes two and three, and I was out. I looked at her for a moment, then turned and walked out the door. What had I done?

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-five

  It was the twenty-third of December, the busiest travel day of the season and second-busiest travel day of the year. Trying to get back home was a nightmare. I first tried to book a flight to Daytona Beach, but came up with nothing. Then Florida. Then I looked for anything out of Utah. Every seat out of Salt Lake International was full with confirmed oversales. I should have known better. I couldn’t have picked a worse time for my world to collapse.

  Fate may have kept me in Utah, but I didn’t have to stay in Midway. I couldn’t stay in Midway. It was as if the air in the city had dissipated. The proximity to Aria was killing me. Early the next morning I found a hotel vacancy near the airport and booked a room. By nine I carried my bag downstairs to check out. Ray was in the dining room, visiting with some guests, when he noticed me standing at the front desk with my suitcase. He immediately jumped up and rushed to me, his face bent with distress.

  “Alex, are you leaving us?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I thought you were staying until after Christmas. I hoped to share some more time with you.”

  “I had planned on it. But . . . something came up.”

  He carefully studied my countenance, his face mirroring the pain and sadness in mine. “I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for.”

  “No,” I said. “The problem is, I did.”

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “No, my friend. You most certainly did not find what you were looking for.”

  I looked back into his eyes for a moment, then said, “Thanks for everything. It was a pleasure getting to know you.”

  “I’ve grown rather fond of you, young man. I hope to see you again.”

  Then he turned and walked back to the dining room.

  I went back to the front counter. Lita smiled at me sadly. “We’re sorry to see you go, Mr. Bartlett. I hope you’ve had a memorable visit.”

  “Most definitely memorable,” I said. I handed her my key. “Thanks for everything.”

  “Merry Christmas. It’s been a pleasure having you with us.”

  “Thank you, Lita. The same to you.”

  I couldn’t leave the small town fast enough. When I reached Salt Lake I checked in at the hotel, then drove to the airport to return my rental car. I was glad I was dropping off, not picking up. The lines at the rental car service were obscene. Actually, the lines everywhere were obscene, the mobs uniting for the holiday. Once again, I was going against the traffic.

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-six

  I ended up taking a taxi back to my hotel even though it was only a mile from the airport. It wasn’t the distance, it was the traffic. Airport grounds aren’t really designed for pedestrians. My cabdriver was already in a sour mood, made more so by my minimal fare. I left him a twenty-dollar tip to stop his grumbling.

  In the ninety minutes I’d been gone, the hotel’s population had grown considerably, and the lobby was crowded. Ironically, it was there, in the crush of the crowd, that my mistress Loneliness finally caught up with me again. Maybe she had always been with me and I’d just been too distracted by my quest to notice her soft footsteps or to hear her familiar whisperings, but I heard them now. “Don’t worry that you have no one, Alex; I’m here for you. You’ll always have me. I’ll never leave you . . .”

  Where do all these tribes come from? I thought. Then I realized that I had regurgitated a line from LBH. Funny thing; in my mind I continued to keep separate the two beings—Aria and LBH—as if my heart still hadn’t reconciled that they were one. I suppose it was emotionally safer that way.

  I retrieved my bag from the bell stand and went up to my room. I checked on flights again. There was no direct flight to Daytona Beach, but there was a flight the next morning at 8:17 to Atlanta and, after a four-hour layover, another flight to Jacksonville—an hour and a half from Daytona. I didn’t care what the cab ride cost. I just wanted to be home.

  When I was in second grade, a girl brought a robin’s egg she’d found in her yard for show and tell. Our teacher had put a sign next to it saying DO NOT TOUCH. I was just seven years old, so, of course, I had to touch it. To my horror, it broke. I looked around to see if anyone had seen what I’d done, and then I quickly crept back to my desk where no one could connect me with the broken egg. Right now was no different. I just wanted to be far away from the mess I’d made in Utah.

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-seven

  I woke the next morning at six. I suppose it was telling that I had set two wake-up calls, my phone’s alarm clock and the alarm clock in the room. I wasn’t taking any chances on missing my flight. Nothing short of a terrorist attack was going to keep me in Utah.

  After I’d boarded the plane I checked my phone. To be honest, there was a small part of me that hoped Aria had called. It was good she hadn’t. I wasn’t ready for it. Even after we screw up, it’s amazing the lengths our psyches will go to protect our egos. She lied, it screamed at me. You did the right thing. When you pick up one end of the stick, you pick up the other. In the end, it would finish with a lie, just like it did before. Just like it did when you tried to pretend lies don’t matter. Just like it did with Jill.

  As I looked at my phone I noticed that someone had left a message. It had a Daytona Beach area code, but I didn’t recognize the number. I pushed Play.

  Alex, it’s Jill. I’m probably the last person you expected to hear from, but I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. I came by a little earlier, but it didn’t look like you were home. Or maybe you were home and were hiding from me. I wouldn’t blame you. But it is the season, right? If you’ll let me know when you’ll be there, I’ll come by again. I have something for you. A little Christmas gift. [Pause] Okay, well, take care. ’Bye.

  What did she want? I turned off my phone. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. With my Diamond Medallion status I was almost always upgraded to first class or, at the least, coach comfort, but not this time. For the four hours of the flight to Atlanta, I didn’t even have a decent coach seat. I sat in the middle seat between two overfed men and directly behind a crying baby. I was certain it was just the universe’s way of punishing me for what I’d done.

  When we finally reached Atlanta I camped out in the Crown Room. Still, the wait seemed interminable. I never turned on my phone. I still didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want anyone to know that I was back.

  I was upgraded to first class on my flight to Jacksonville, which was no big deal, since the flight was less than an hour, and then I waited forty minutes for my bag and another thirty minutes for a cab.

  The driver played Christmas music in the car for the entire ninety-minute ride. It already seemed strange to look out the window and not see snow.

  With the two-hour time change, I arrived home past midnight. I paid the driver, then started into my apartment when he yelled, “Hey!”

  I turned back.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  “Yeah,” I said. Freaking Merry Christmas.

  I now understood why suicides go up during the holidays.

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-eight

  I woke the next day about noon. Christmas Day. I lay in bed with the blinds down for more than an hour. The world outside my bed offered me nothing. It was weird being back—surreal, like I’d just woken from a dream. Actually, a nightmare.

  I didn’t care that it was Christmas. The more tragic commemoration was that it was almost the anniversary of my divorce. It had gone through on the twenty-seventh of December. I wondered if that had something to do with why Jill had called.

  I felt like my chest had been run over by a semi. Not just my chest—my whole body. My back and neck ached. Even my feet ache
d. How can depression make your feet ache?

  I was in so much pain that I went for a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, but I put it back, not out of wisdom or temperance but out of self-hate. How dare I run from what I brought on myself? I deserve to hurt. Though outwardly I still blamed her, my inner self knew the truth. Ray had told me she was a flickering flame about to go out. What had Valerie called her? A precious, fragile thing. I had blown out a candle. I had broken a precious, fragile thing. I deserved to pay for what I had done. I didn’t know how I could.

  I stayed in bed for the next two days. I kept my phone off, as if it would release me from liability that way. I didn’t shower. My beard began to grow. I was a mess.

  It was late Sunday night, two days after Christmas, when Nate knocked on my door. I didn’t know it was Nate; I just knew someone was pounding on my door with the force of a battering ram. Actually, he was hitting my door with the business end of his cane. Then I heard him shout, “Open up, man. I know you’re home.”

  I wondered how he knew that, as there was no outward sign of life. When I wasn’t sleeping I had been watching all five seasons of Breaking Bad. I was ready to run off to New Mexico and open a meth lab. I opened the door.

  “So you are alive,” he said. He looked me over. “I think.”

  “I’m not in a mood to talk,” I said.

  “I can see that. That’s why we’re going to.” He walked into my house and into my TV room, where he sat down on my couch. I followed him and settled into a recliner across from him.

  “When did you get back?”

  I sighed heavily. “Christmas Eve.”

  He looked at me incredulously. “And you didn’t call? What’s going on? Dale told me that you found her.”

  “I thought I had.”