Returning to her childhood home for the holidays was fraught with mixed emotions for Holly. There would be merriment but also serious discussions and possibly even conflict. You don’t get a clan of 64 people together and not expect some kind of tension. A sly comment here and there by a drunk uncle, parents wanting to do things their way, brothers and sisters bringing up quarrels years in the making.
Yet, as soon as the train began moving, and the snowy twilight unfurled like a winter flower across the land, she felt her shoulders relax and breath grow even. She would arrive in town by midday. In the interval, she had no concerns but simply look out the window at the snow-covered peaks and endless miles of pine forests buried under a mantle of snow.
She was alone in the cabin. Just the way she liked it. Being alone was a treat for a university professor, who was in constant interaction with students, colleagues, and staff. Maybe she needed some time off teaching duties, so she could focus on her own research, but as an adjunct professor, she was not in a secure place yet within the rigid institutional hierarchy.
A few stars twinkled in the icy morning air of this, the longest day of the year. Seeing the landscape unfold beyond the window brought back memories of childhood. She remembered the times skating on the pond with her brothers and sisters, the games they played in the ice, then back home around a roaring fire singing songs, together decorating the Christmas tree, and inevitable memories of that fateful day when she discovered Santa’s true nature.
Holly’s brow furrowed just thinking about it. She did not find out the truth about Santa until she was ten years of age. Perhaps she had been told about it and refused to believe it, blocking it out of her mind. Certainly her brothers and sisters found out at a much earlier age, or at least came to terms with it. To top it off, it had been Macy, the younger of her two sisters, the one who had told Holly about who was really stuffing the stockings in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve.
Lost in those thoughts, she had failed to notice the presence of a stranger inside the cabin. The man was looking at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes.
She gave a little yelp, then put her hand over her mouth.
“It looks like you’re weighing some heavy thoughts,” he said in a deep voice.
“I’m sorry," she said laughing nervously. "I didn’t hear you enter the cabin.”
“I’m stealthy like a fox. Haw, haw!”
The man wore a red business suit and carried a red briefcase, which he placed on the storage compartment above him. The most striking thing about him, however, was his thick white beard and hair, contrasting with eyes that had a disarmingly youthful demeanor.
The man looked out the train corridor through the small glass window on the cabin door, as if looking for something or someone. He then sat on the seat across from hers.
“It's that busy time of the year,” he said making himself comfortable. “I usually prefer other means of transportation, but some complications arose with my vehicle.”
He extended his hand towards her and introduced himself as Christopher Northwood. “You may call me Chris,” he added with a jolly twinkle in his eyes.
“I’m Holly,” she said.
“Going home for the holidays, are we Holly?”
She nodded.
“Ah! No wonder you were so pensive then,” he said, taking out an item from his pocket that looked like a large pen. Putting it to his lips, he puffed on it like one would on a pipe, but he blew no smoke, and only the faint aroma of sweet mint hung in the air.
“Going home for the holidays is always fraught with mixed emotions for all of us,” he continued. “There will be merriment but also serious discussions and possibly even conflict. Especially in a large family one can expect tensions to rise. A naughty comment here and there, parents wanting to do things their way, and siblings bringing up quarrels years in the making.”
“Yes, right,” she said unsure how to reply to this uncannily accurate comment. “What about you, what do you do?”
“Salesman,” he said. “Make my routes through the south, and now I’m heading back home for the holidays.”
“That’s wonderful. I hope you had a successful trip. What exactly do you sell, if I may be so bold to ask?”
“Haw! Haw! Not at all,” he said, “I can show you.”
He stood up and walking towards the cabin door, he pulled down the blind on the little window. He then reached for his red suitcase and placed it on the table.
“One can’t be too careful these days,” he said.
When he opened the case, a glow emanated from within it, and illuminated his face.
“I sell the finest treasures this side of the coast,” he said.
Reaching inside, he took out a small intricately carved box and handed it to her.
“Go on, open it,” he said.
The texture of the wood was lovely. When she opened it, she took a deep a breath. It was a diamond ring.
“Oh my goodness,” she said.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” he said. “Try it on.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t. It must cost a fortune.”
He took the ring from its downy bed, and before she could react, he took her hand, and deftly slid it on her ring finger.
She held her breath, and spreading out her hand, she looked at the marvelous jewel. It shimmered and sparkled in the early morning light with the most vibrant reds, yellows, and blues. The effect was immediate and dazzling. It awakened emotions of wonder that she had not felt in a long time. A mosaic of memories ran through her mind at once. Singing voices, the smell of sweetly baked goods, the warmth of a flickering fire, laughter, and a tangle of sensations that she had long forgotten. She felt lightheaded but in a good way. Uplifted by a sense of wonderment; a soft smile spread on her lips.
“It’s so bea-“ she began to say, only to realize that she was alone in the cabin.
She sat up straight. Startled.
"Good lord!" she said, looking this way and that. Where had he gone? He had been sitting in front of her just a few moments ago.
There was a commotion outside the door, which suddenly flung open, revealing a man with a thin moustache, trailed by a uniformed police officer.
“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle,” said the man who was breathing heavily. “My name is Norman Blanchette. I’m a detective with the Metropolitan police. We’re looking for a man whom we believe is aboard this train. He was wearing a red suit and sported a white beard. Have you seen this man come this way?”
Holly placed her hands on her lap under the table. She shook her head.
“I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone matching that extravagant description,” she said. “Why are you looking for him?”
The detective smoothed down his moustache. “He’s a dangerous man, mademoiselle. A scoundrel and swindler! An enemy of the state. You must steer clear of him. Should he step into this room, you must inform us at once. Do not let him engage you in talk. His tongue is his sharpest weapon.”
Holly nodded. “I will be mindful.”
The detective tipped his hat and ran off with the policeman down the corridor.
Holly raised her hand and looked at the diamond ring. She took it off and held it in the light, admiring its otherworldly beauty. None of this was her fault, she mused. She was just trying to have a nice train ride and be with her own thoughts. She had plenty to think about let alone worry about some ruffian running around and wreaking havoc on her peace of mind.
She slid the ring on the finger of her right hand.
What a marvel! The effect it had on her was truly mind-boggling, intoxicating. It was an astonishing revelation that she could feel this way. She did not consider herself a mystic, but this ring was something special.
Neither the salesman or the detective returned to her car. When the train arrived at the station, she took her baggage and got off, taking furtive glances back towards the train.
The snow fell gently, large fluffy flakes played and swirled in the air. She stopped for a moment and looked around her. People shouted with joy and laughter as they greeted each other. Horses neighed nearby to the sound of jingling bells.
The train hissed and whistled.
Why did everything look so new? The trees, the mountains, the myriad faces. Had it ever been this way? Her heart beat fast with excitement and indescribable joy. There was much to be concerned about with all the suffering in the world. Yet in spite of it all, the universe was perfect. Everyone and everything was a thread in the fabric of time. Or so it felt at the moment. She couldn’t explain it, she had never felt this way.
The tracks creaked, a sharp whistle rang out through the air, and the train began to move. When she looked up, she thought she saw a flash of red on one of the windows, but then the train was gone through the soft curtains of falling snow.
“Holly!”
She heard her name being called out. It was her sister Macy waving through the crowds.
Holly smiled and waved back, her hand trailed by a shower of sparkling light.
Thank you for reading my Christmas tale in response to the Ink Well Fiction prompt #149: Holiday Memories. I hope you enjoyed it!
Images and animation generated by @litguru using Generative Art software