Santa and the Snow Witch Read online

  “I can’t,” Jordan said as she reached the door.

  “Can’t what?”

  “I can’t make it snow.”

  With that she turned and ran, opening the door and bolting onto the sidewalk where she almost ran over Mike and Cindy, who were headed into the hardware store.

  Luke vaulted over the counter. He almost knocked his little brother down on his way out.

  “Watch the store,” he instructed as he followed Jordan onto Main Street.

  Her ice cream shop was hardly busy during the winter, and even on good days she didn’t bother to open until 11 or 12. Maybe she’d stay closed today, this week, until spring. What did it matter?

  Jordan walked briskly along Main Street, paying little attention to those around her. They were all wearing coats, some even wore boots and hats. People up north would laugh at the way Springers dressed when it was in the mid-fifties, but when you were used to the heat it didn’t take much of a temperature drop in order to feel the cold.

  She’d always liked the cold, but since Rick had died she’d embraced it.

  Luke Benedict was supposed to know what everyone needed. He was supposed to know what she needed.

  She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was broken. She’d been broken for four years. The difference was, until now she’d still been able to use her magic when it was needed. If she couldn’t do that, if she couldn’t make it snow or rain, if she couldn’t make the wind blow or stop blowing, if she couldn’t connect herself to the skies above, what good was she? Her gift was all she had, it was the only thing that made her life worthwhile.

  Jordan was so lost in her own thoughts she didn’t realize Luke had followed her until he pulled up beside her. Once there, he shortened his long stride to match hers.

  “Something’s wrong,” he said simply. “Tell me.”

  Right to the point. That had always been Luke’s way.

  She’d had such a crush on him, a lifetime ago. He’d been the high school hunk, handsome and popular and smart; she’d been a gangly kid four years behind him in school. He’d had a beautiful cheerleader girlfriend, a Non-Springer who’d had no idea what was going on around her. That girl had been such an airhead.

  In those days Jordan had made good grades and done her best to fade into the background. No one would’ve called her a beautiful child, but during her high school years she’d gotten taller and slimmer, learned how to style her hair, and had her braces taken off.

  Luke had been a stud in high school. He was still a stud. Six feet tall, or thereabouts. Nicely built, without being musclebound. He was handsome, with a pleasant face that all too often sported a bit of stubble. His hair was a nice shade of brown, and his eyes were dark enough to have a mysterious air to them. She wanted to look into those eyes and know what he was thinking, but she never did.

  He should be married and have a couple of kids by now. Why wasn’t he? Not her business, but she did wonder.

  She never should’ve gone to him for help but she had, and the idea of trying to find someone else to tell her troubles to gave her a headache.

  “I can’t make it snow,” she snapped.

  “Yeah, you mentioned that. Why not?”

  Frustrated and scared, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to face him. “If I knew why not, I wouldn’t have come to you to ask what I needed.”

  Luke took her arm, gently turned her around, and headed back toward his store. “Just because I don’t see what you need now, that doesn’t mean I won’t. Normally I only see what’s on the surface. Little things, nothing deeper. If we talk a while, if we spend some time together, maybe I’ll see more.”

  It seemed like a long shot, but what options did she have?

  As they reached the door to his store, Luke stopped and looked to the end of the street, where the town Christmas tree had been erected three weeks earlier. As usual the tree was tall, well-lit, and brightly decorated. On Christmas Eve Luke would pile gifts for many of the town residents under that tree. As they collected their presents, she’d call down the snow.

  At least, that’s how it was supposed to work.

  Luke continued to stare at the tree. His expression was one of puzzlement, confusion.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He pointed to the top of the tall tree. “The star is missing.”

  The Mystic Springs tree topper, a golden star that had been blessed by the Franklin twins’ great-great-grandmother, had been in use for more than a hundred years.The star had been there last night, catching the moonlight and twinkling a little. Luke remembered seeing it as he’d left the store and headed to the EGG. Had the topper been in place this morning, when he’d arrived for work? That he couldn’t say.

  He opened the door and stuck his head inside. Mike stood behind the counter, looking annoyed, while Cindy helped a customer.

  “The star is missing,” Luke said.

  No one asked “what star?” This time of year there was only the one.

  He walked to the end of the street, eyes on the top of the tall tree. Jordan stayed with him, as he skirted around the tree, searching the area to see if the star had simply fallen off. What bad luck that would be, if The Franklin Star had fallen to the ground.

  Mike and Cindy joined him in his search, and so did a dozen others who’d been out and about and had heard him call out to his brother. They found nothing. They were all speechless for a few minutes, until Ivy stepped out of her shop and asked what the commotion was about.

  She, too, looked up. “Son of a bitch!” she shouted. “Who took Granny Pearl’s star?”

  The crowd was no longer silent, as everyone tried to figure out who would have taken the star, how and why. Most of all, they wanted to know how to find the tree topper and get it back in place before Christmas Eve.

  Mystic Springs had taken a number of blows in the last few years. Losing the star would be a hard one to take.

  Luke looked down at Jordan, whose eyes were transfixed on the tree as if staring intensely enough would make the star reappear. After a long moment she turned her attention to him.

  “Do you think this has anything to do with my problem?” she whispered.

  “Maybe.” It was a long shot, but over the years they’d found that the oddest things were connected in one way or another. People, objects, sometimes even thoughts.

  “I don’t want everyone to know.” She mouthed the words.

  Luke nodded. There were Springers who could likely give Jordan the answers she needed, if she asked them. Obviously she didn’t want anyone else to know what was going on. Could he help her? Maybe. He could try.

  “Dinner at my house tonight,” he said.

  Jordan shook her head. “No.”

  Well, that was final. She wanted his help, but she didn’t want to get too close. Then she continued,

  “My house. Seven o’clock.” She looked at the tree again. “Like it or not, you and I are the keepers of Christmas in this town. Something is very wrong, and we need to fix it.”

  Chapter 3

  Jordan had become an expert at cooking for one. She didn’t like crowds, so she avoided the local restaurants. Even her trips to the grocery store were as quick and efficient as possible. In and out, that was always her plan.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like people. She did. At least, she once had. The problem was that she didn’t fit in anywhere. Not in Mystic Springs, not outside the small town.

  Deep inside she knew that if that didn’t change, she’d disappear. Not literally, maybe, but there were days when she felt like there was so little of herself left she might as well disappear. Her gift was the only thing that made her special, that gave her life meaning.

  Cooking for two seemed to be a lot more than twice the work of cooking for herself, so she prepared a meal that could feed a small army. Roast with carrots and potatoes, a green bean casserole, rolls, a gelatin salad and two desserts. She didn’t know if Luke would like chocolate cake or lemo
n pie, so she’d made both.

  It made more sense for her to do the cooking, since at this time of year Luke’s business was more time-consuming than hers. Could he cook, even if he had the time, or was he one of those who ate all his meals at Eve’s? It didn’t matter. This house was her turf. She was in charge here. Besides, his place was on the outskirts of town, too isolated for her liking. It was best that he come to her, instead of the other way around.

  Her Dad’s house, her house now, had been in the family for at least fifty years, but everyone had taken care to keep things updated. Ten years ago or so, Stewart Teague had replaced all the appliances in his mid-sized kitchen. He’d gone all out, choosing the most expensive oven he could find. The man did love to cook, and he’d been good at it. He hadn’t just made chili and spaghetti, he baked his own bread as well as cookies that rivaled Ivy’s. Not that Jordan would ever tell Ivy so.

  One of the reasons her father had liked to cook was so he could impress all his women. He’d been something of a ladies’ man, in his final years.

  He’d died too soon. If he was still here he’d be able to help her, and she wouldn’t have to turn to Luke.

  Jordan stopped in the middle of the kitchen, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Now was not the time for self-pity. She was alone and always would be. She liked being alone. It was her choice.

  If she could make it snow, as she should be able to do, she wouldn’t need Luke Benedict or anyone else.

  It was the only way she could survive, to not need anyone.

  She set the table in the dining room, then rethought the strategy and moved everything to the smaller table in the kitchen. The room was warmer, and while she didn’t need the warmth Luke probably would. Besides, the dining room was too formal, too nice. She didn’t want Luke to think she’d asked him to dinner for anything other than practical reasons.

  She’d just finished getting everything moved into the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Her gut instinct was to ignore the fact that Luke was at her door. If she didn’t answer he’d eventually go away. Coward. She took a deep breath and headed for the door. This was entirely out of her comfort zone, but something had to be done. She had a feeling only Luke would be able to help her.

  The food was good and there was plenty of it, the house was cold but the kitchen was tolerably warm, and his hostess was beautiful but obviously nervous.

  Luke couldn’t help but notice that there wasn’t a single Christmas decoration in Jordan’s house. No tree, no wreath, not even a Santa figurine. He didn’t go all out with decorations at his place, since he spent so little time at home in December, but even he had a ceramic reindeer sitting on his mantle.

  They both ate before getting down to the business at hand. He was finishing up a big piece of chocolate cake and a cup of coffee when Jordan asked,

  “Do you see anything yet? What’s wrong with me?”

  Nothing was wrong with her. Nothing at all. He had a feeling that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Do you think it’s possible your inability to make it snow has anything to do with the Franklin Star going missing?”

  She shook her head. “It did cross my mind this morning, but I can’t be sure. It might be an element, kind of a last straw, but to be honest I’ve been having difficulties for a while. Last year it was hard to call up even a dusting, and it didn’t come easily. I worked hard for that little bit of snow.”

  He hadn’t noticed that last year had been hard for her. “When did the problem start?”

  She hesitated, then gathered up a couple of dirty dishes and headed to the sink. While her back was to him, she answered. “After my husband died. It got worse after Dad passed, but if I had to pick a start date, it would be the day I buried Rick.”

  Luke had never met Jordan’s husband, Rick Carter. As far as he knew, she’d never brought him to Mystic Springs. Her Dad had traveled to visit his daughter and her husband a couple times a year, but they’d never come here. There was only one good reason for that.

  “Did he know what you are?”

  She spun around, leaned against the sink, and glared. “Did I inform my perfectly normal husband that I was a witch who could control the weather? No, I did not.”

  “Why not? Didn’t you trust him?”

  It was the wrong question to ask. Jordan came toward him, hands outstretched, eyes blazing. Luke lifted his hands, palms out, in surrender.

  “Sorry. Don’t do to me what you did to poor Donnie.”

  Jordan stopped, dropped her hands, and had the good grace to look sheepish. “I thawed him out almost immediately. And you don’t know what he did before I stopped him in his tracks.”

  Luke stood slowly. “Did he touch you?”

  She sighed. “No, but he was headed that way. He seemed so sure I would be flattered that he wanted to buy me a beer and take me back to his place. In case you can’t tell, I was not flattered.”

  He circled the table and pulled out a chair for her. With a nod, he ordered her to sit, and she did. “You’d been home a year when that happened, so what makes you think this change in your powers started when your husband died?”

  She tipped her head back and looked him in the eye. “Because that’s when I stopped feeling.”

  “When you stopped feeling what?”

  “Everything,” she whispered.

  “I haven’t told you everything,” Jordan said.

  Luke offered a hand; she took it and stood. His hand felt so warm, she didn’t hang onto it for long.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  She wanted to; she didn’t want to. She should; he would never look at her the same way again.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested.

  Luke grabbed his coat, which he’d left on a coat rack by the front door. Jordan didn’t bother. Why pretend that she could feel the cold? They stepped outside. Luke shivered a bit and pulled his coat tighter, while she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air.

  If she couldn’t make it snow, if she’d lost her gift, maybe she’d pack up a few things and drive north. Minnesota. Wisconsin. Maybe Canada. She figured she’d make a great recluse. All she needed was a cabin in the woods, in a place where winter was long and no one asked anything of her.

  Hers was the only occupied house on the street not decorated for the holiday in some way. Two houses at the far end were empty and had been for a while, so they remained dark, but the Franklin sisters, one next door and the other across the street, had outdone themselves as usual, and the other three houses were similarly bedecked.

  Some might think it was strange that a town populated with so many witches would celebrate Christmas with such enthusiasm. But the truth was, “witch” was just a word. A misunderstood word, in many cases. Most Springers were perfectly normal people with perfectly abnormal abilities. They lived, laughed, loved, lost, struggled, just like anyone else.

  Jordan had once thought herself almost normal. She’d wanted to be normal more than she’d ever wanted anything else, and she’d convinced herself that outside Mystic Springs, with Rick at her side, she could live an ordinary life.

  She could not.

  Looking back, she realized that’s why she’d gotten married so young, and so quickly. Rick had been a charmer, with a great smile and a way with words that could make any woman feel special.

  She’d never been charming. She was blunt, always — usually — preferring to get right to the point. “My abilities don’t stop when I’m away from Mystic Springs.”

  “Everyone…”

  “Not me,” she interrupted. Jordan stopped on the sidewalk in front of Ivy Franklin’s house and admired the tree in the window, the lights strung across the roofline, the inflatable Santa.

  Luke didn’t argue with her. He stood there, studying the Christmas decorations, and waited for her to continue.

  “On the day I buried Rick, a freak storm blew through Dallas,” she said. “I didn’t think much of it, because that kind of thing happens there, especia
lly in the summertime. The rain and wind were so fierce Rick’s mother sat in her car waiting for the storm to pass instead of staying at his grave.” She looked up. Luke’s face was appropriately solemn. “I stood at the graveside while everyone else ran. Even my father eventually moved to shelter. I stayed because I knew I’d called up the storm. Not on purpose, it was entirely accidental, but it was me.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “I can.” She’d been so angry, the storm had matched her mood too well to be coincidence.

  Luke was quiet for a few minutes, studying Ivy’s decorations. Maybe he just didn’t want to look at her. “You need more help than I can give you. I’ve never heard of any Springer taking their abilities with them for more than a few days.”

  “That shouldn’t have anything to do with my more immediate issue.”

  Luke started walking toward Main Street, and she followed. “How did your husband die? He was young, wasn’t he?”

  “Just past thirty,” she answered. “He was a few years older than me. As for how he died…” She’d never told anyone, had always been afraid to speak the words aloud. “He died on the golf course.”

  “How?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t know.”

  If he wanted to know badly enough he could search the Internet when he got home and find out everything. Well, almost everything. If anyone could connect the dots, it would be Luke.

  “He was struck by lightning.” Jordan stopped, looked up, waited for his expression of horror. “I killed him,” she added, when the horror didn’t manifest.

  “I don’t believe that,” Luke whispered with a shake of his head.

  She hadn’t either, until that storm on the day of his funeral. If she’d called up that storm, had she also created the lightning that had struck her husband down? It made sense.

  “Well, believe it,” she snapped. If she was going to tell, she might as well go all the way. “I’d just found out that Rick had a girlfriend. He’d been cheating on me for two years, almost since the day we were married. I was too young, too gullible, too stupid. I never saw it.”