The Mistletoe Secret Page 18
“So you didn’t find her.”
“No, I did.”
“You’re talking in circles, man.”
“While I was looking, I fell in love with a woman. Aria . . .”
“That’s her name? Aria?”
“Yeah.”
“Pretty name,” he said.
I didn’t want to hear that. “It turned out that Aria was really LBH.”
“You accidentally ran into the woman you were looking for?”
“Yes.”
“That’s incredible.”
“It’s not incredible. She knew I was looking for her and she played me.”
Nate looked at me unsympathetically. “Played you? What does that mean?”
“She lied to me. She pretended to be someone she wasn’t.”
“Who did she pretend to be?”
“Not LBH.”
“And, so, now you’re upset with her?”
“Of course I am.”
He thought for a moment, then said, “And you told her up front exactly what you were up to?”
“No. It would have freaked her out.”
He looked at me as if I were dumb. “Have you considered that maybe that’s how she felt?”
I didn’t answer. He leaned forward. “Look, man. This was your crazy idea, not hers. You got to read her blog posts and get to know her intimately before you even met. Didn’t she have the right to get to know you, in a safe place too?”
Again I didn’t answer him.
“Honestly, man. What was she supposed to do?”
I blew up. “She was supposed to be honest.”
Nate didn’t even flinch. I suppose, compared to mortar fire and IEDs, my tirade wasn’t much. “Under normal circumstances, you’d be right,” he said calmly. “But these weren’t normal circumstances, were they? You flew to Utah to track down someone you didn’t know without telling them what you were doing. You said it yourself—that’s crazy stuff. And crazy people do crazy stuff. She would have been a fool to tell you who she was.” He leaned forward. “Be honest, here. Are you fighting her or are you fighting Jill? Because she’s not Jill, and she deserves a fresh slate, just like you do. The past is a lesson, not a sentence. Let it go.”
“I don’t get why you’re taking her side. You don’t even know her.”
He looked at me with an amused grin. “You think I’m taking her side?” When I didn’t answer he said, “You’re right, I don’t know her. I couldn’t pick her out of a police lineup. I’m not doing this for someone I don’t know, I’m doing this for you.”
“Why do you think you know what’s right for me?”
“Because I remember what you said before you left. You told me that you knew deep in your heart you had to find her. You knew.”
I looked down for a moment, then said, “I was wrong. The inspiration was wrong. It was just hopeful thinking. I wanted to believe something good was out there.”
Nate just looked at me quietly, and then said, “Did I ever tell you about how I got so broken up?”
“You ran over an IED.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I did. Twice. You think that’s unlucky?”
“I’d say so.”
“You’re wrong. I’m the luckiest man alive. The second time I hit the mine was my fifty-ninth mission. I had just landed up in Sulaymaniyah, near the Kurdish region.
“When we hit dirt I was ordered to report immediately to the CO for action. The CO there had a reputation for being a belligerent SOB. He always made it a point to rip some unlucky guy a new one before each mission, just to keep everyone else on their toes.
“As I ran to the CO’s tent I had this overwhelming urge to stop in the worship tent. Every camp has a worship tent. It has icons and religious stuff. The thing is, I had never even been in a worship tent. I wasn’t religious. I thought religion was nothing more than a crutch, and Marines don’t need crutches. We put people in them. Or graves.
“Trust me, I had no delusion that there was some good-time afterlife party waiting for me. My sergeant in basic drilled it into us. He said, ‘You’re all going to hell. Get used to it. The only comfort is, you’ve already been there, so it’s no big deal.’ After some of the things I’d done, I was pretty damn certain I wasn’t on God’s friends and family plan.
“But here I am walking to the worship tent. I thought, This is insane, but the feeling was unlike anything I’d felt before.
“I went inside and I didn’t even know what to do, so I did what I thought I should do. I knelt down and started to pray. I didn’t know how to, so I just started talking.
“Next thing I know, I check my watch. I’d been there for almost thirty minutes. Thirty minutes. The CO was going to rip off my head and shove it down my throat.
“I jumped up to go, but as I went to leave I saw this little metal cross lying on a table—it was a Celtic cross. I didn’t know what it was called at the time, I just knew it was a cross with a circle in the middle. The same voice that sent me to the tent said to me, ‘Take it.’
“I thought, I can’t take it. It belongs to the tent. The voice said again, ‘Take it.’
“I resisted. This is crazy, I told myself. I’m talking to myself. I went to leave the tent when that voice inside said, ‘Don’t leave without it.’ You could say it was my subconscious, but I swear that whatever I was hearing had an authority my own thoughts never had. It felt like an order. So I grabbed the cross, shoved it into my pocket, and walked out.
“Just as I feared, when I hit the CO’s tent he was waiting for me. He ripped me up one side and down the other in front of the whole squad. He said I’d held up the war for forty minutes and he was going to take it out of my flesh when I got back. Then he sent us off.
“Two hours later, we’re coming to this little village when we hit an IED. Our Humvee was blown to pieces. When I came to, I was lying on my back bleeding from a hundred places. My back was broken. My hip was torn wide open. My buddies were also blown up. One of them was next to me, shaking.
“The enemy was firing missiles and machine guns at us from a nearby building. I couldn’t move. I knew it was over. As I lay there waiting to die, I suddenly felt the cross burning in my pocket. I reached down for it. It was covered with blood. I held it to my chest, waiting to be overrun by our enemy.
“Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a cloud of dust coming toward us. I wasn’t sure what it was I saw, but I knew it couldn’t be good. Suddenly it started firing. But not at us. It was an M1 Abrams, a US tank. It parked itself between us and harm’s way, then proceeded to take out the whole of the enemy.
“I just lay there listening to the battle, tears rolling down my cheeks, not because I was in pain but because I knew this was impossible. We had no backup. There was no cavalry in the area. That tank came out of nowhere to save our lives.
“After the firing stopped, a man kneeled down next to me. He looked me over, then lifted the cross I was holding. He said, ‘What do you know?’ Tank commanders name their tanks and paint those names on their gun barrels. The name of the tank was the Celtic Cross. It had a picture of the exact same cross I was carrying painted on it.
“I found out later that the tank had been separated from its command and was speeding back toward HQ when the crew heard the explosion from us hitting the IED. If I hadn’t stopped at the tent and we had left when we had been commanded to, it wouldn’t have been there. We all would have been killed.”
Nate leaned forward. His eyes were wet. “My point is, you heard the voice. It told you to go find that woman. So go get her.”
I raked my hair back with my hand. “It’s too late, man,” I said. “I screwed up. Big-time.”
To my surprise, Nate smiled. “No, you’re not powerful enough to override fate. So go back and finish what you started.”
“She’s leaving the day after tomorrow.”
“Leaving to where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you better hurry.”
CHAPTER
Thirty-nine
With Christmas over, flights were wide open. I booked one for the next day and flew out of DAB at one thirty, then changed planes in Atlanta. The whole time I worried about Aria, but I didn’t call her. I didn’t dare. Chances were she’d shut me down before I even got there. But to fly all the way back to Utah, well, that had to mean something.
I arrived in Salt Lake City a little after 6:00 p.m. It was snowing again. Of course it was. I got a rental car and drove directly to Aria’s house.
The lights were off, and her car was gone. I looked inside her house. There was still furniture. That meant she hadn’t left, right?
My next stop was the diner. I ran inside, only to be greeted by Valerie.
“Is Aria here?”
Valerie just looked at me contemptuously.
“Is she here?” I repeated.
“No.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Why would I know that?”
“Because you’re friends.”
“Which is why I wouldn’t tell you if I did know.” Her jaw tightened, and she thrust a finger at me. “I warned you about her. I warned you to leave her alone. And what did you do? You went for her throat.”
“I don’t have time for this. Just tell me, when’s her next shift?”
She chuckled cynically. “Boy, you are some special kind of stupid. She has no more shifts. She quit. After all these years, she just quit. I don’t know what you did to her, but you broke her.”
My mind reeled. “Do you know if she’s left town?”
“Where’d you get the idea she’s leaving town?”
“She wrote that she was going back to live with her father.”
Valerie’s face contorted, and her eyes narrowed into angry slits. “Just when I thought I couldn’t hate you more, you say something like that.”
“Like what?”
She shook her head with disgust. “Live with her father, you say. If you really knew her, you’d know that her father took his life when she was a little girl.”
I was dumbstruck.
“You stay away from her, and you stay out of here. You’re not welcome. I promise, the next time I see you, there’ll be hell to pay.” She turned and walked away.
Valerie’s news had left me speechless. The words of Aria’s blog came back to me. What LBH—what Aria—had written about going to her father suddenly made sense—horrible, tragic sense. It was all right there in front of me; I just didn’t see it. She never wrote that she was going back to Minnesota, she said she was going home. Minnesota wasn’t home.
And she had never written that she was going there to live with her father. She’d written that she was going to be with him.
When she said that she was leaving “this place” to “be with her father,” she’d been talking about taking her life all along. The candle had finally gone out. What if she’d already left?
CHAPTER
Forty
I sped back to Aria’s house as fast as I could, fishtailing as I turned the corner at her street. I jumped out of my car, ran up onto her porch, and pounded on her door. “Aria, open up! Aria!”
I stepped back and kicked the door, praying beneath my breath the whole time, Please be okay. Please, God, let her be okay. Please.
“Aria!”
I spotted a shovel at the far end of her porch and went over and grabbed it. I was about to put it through the window when I heard something behind me. I turned around. Aria was standing on the sidewalk looking at me.
“What are you doing with my shovel?”
I froze. “You’re still here.”
“What are you doing here?”
I ran down to her. “I came back for you. I was wrong. And I’m sorry. With all of my heart, I’m sorry. Please, forgive me. Please. I love you.”
She looked at me for a moment, then walked up onto the porch, examined her door where I had kicked it, and unlocked and opened it. She stepped inside, then turned back.
“Are you coming?” She disappeared inside.
I hurried up the stairs after her. As I came around the door, she put her arms around me. Then she pushed her lips against mine.
“What?”
“Just kiss me.”
When we finally parted I said, “How can you forgive me?”
There were tears in her eyes. There were tears in both of our eyes.
“I knew you would come back.”
“How did you know?”
“Sit down.” We sat next to each other on the couch. She wiped her cheeks, then looked up at me. “That day, when my father told me about the edelweiss, about finding a man who brings you edelweiss, he also said, ‘But remember, Aria, people make mistakes. Even a man who will find the edelweiss for you may fall. He may climb wrong peaks where nothing grows. But if his love is strong, he’ll find his way back to you. If he truly loves you, he’ll pick the edelweiss.’ ” She looked intently into my eyes. “It was you. You climbed the mountain. You came all this way with nothing more than faith and courage. You climbed the wrong places; you even fell. But in the end you came back.”
For a moment I was speechless. Then I said, “But I didn’t bring you edelweiss.”
She looked at me, and a large, beautiful smile crossed her lips. “I am the edelweiss.”
EPILOGUE
Six months later Aria and I were married on the beach just a few miles from my apartment. We had a ceremony in Midway as well. At the Blue Boar Inn, of course. Neither Nate nor Dale made it to that one, so, fittingly, Ray was my best man.
Nate and Dale are still arguing over whether Nate lost the bet and owes Dale a thousand dollars. If it were the other way around, Dale would have paid up. Not because he’s more ethical—he’s just a lot smaller.
On our wedding night I gave Aria the pendant. I hadn’t known why it was so important to the universe that I buy it until I showed it to her. She examined it and looked up with a big smile. “Do you know what this is?”
“The woman at Tiffany called it the Noble Star.”
She smiled. “That’s another name for edelweiss.”
We live in Florida now, but we still keep a foot in Midway, Utah. We go back for Swiss Days. I even ran into Lynette once. It was awkward.
We bought a small winter home just a mile from the Blue Boar. A winter home. Imagine that. Aria said the cold was good for me. How she talked me into that I’ll never know. I am getting pretty good at skiing, though.
Dale’s brother is a partner in a large Miami law firm. They tracked down Wade, Aria’s ex, and had the bulk of the loan assigned to him. I paid off the rest.
I finally met Thelma, the pie goddess. She didn’t look anything like I expected. With a name like Thelma I assumed she was an old, seasoned grandmother making pies before butter came in cubes. The truth was, she was a year younger than me. Of course, we didn’t have wedding cake for our Midway ceremony, we had pie. Ray took home all the leftover pecan.
Believe it or not, Valerie and I are now friends. Of course we are. We have much in common. We both love the same woman. Enough to fight for her. We both also like the Eagles. The band, not the team. There’s nothing profound about that, but it’s something.
I’ve thought a lot about Aria’s and my conversations at the time of my quest. I remember our first talk at the inn about the meaning of her name. I’ve found that there are other meanings. Aria is a form of the Greek name Arianna, which means ‘very holy.’ Fitting, I think. But my favorite definition is the Italian, where aria means ‘air.’ That is what she is to me. She is what I breathe. Maybe our names really do make us who we are.
The day of our wedding, Aria posted one last blog entry. She showed it to me.
Dear Universe,
Thank you for everything. I’m doing just fine.
—LBH
(Loved By Him)
Like I said in the beginning, this was the story of my jump. Sure, there were a few rough spots on the way down, but I wouldn’t change a thing. We fear jumping because we fear falling. We fear being broken. But still, jump we must, because it’s only in jumping that we’ll ever find someone to catch us.
THE MISTLETOE INN
RECIPE CONTEST WINNER
from Cathy Austin
HOMEMADE CHOCOLATE PEANUT BUTTER FUDGE
This was my grandmother’s recipe. I use a four-quart Dutch oven.
4 cups white sugar
1 cup canned evaporated milk
1 cup water
4 tablespoons cocoa
2 tablespoons light corn syrup
A pinch of salt
2 tablespoons butter, plus extra for the pan
3 heaping tablespoons peanut butter
In the Dutch oven, stir together the sugar, milk, water, cocoa, corn syrup, and salt. Cook over medium heat (do not turn heat up), stirring occasionally until it comes to a boil. Once it comes to a boil, continue cooking but DO NOT stir again. Even though you will think you need to, it’s important that once it boils you do not stir. Continue cooking until it reaches soft ball stage on a candy thermometer (235˚F) or until a small amount dropped in cold water forms a soft ball. Remove from heat and add the butter and peanut butter. Using a wooden spoon, stir vigorously until the fudge loses its gloss and holds its shape when dropped. Pour it into a buttered 9x13-inch pan and let it cool. Once it’s cool and has firmed up, cut it into squares and taste the goodness of homemade fudge.
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