LORA WEAVER off THE RECORD

Welcome to Lora Weaver off The Record—a collection of complete short stories that take place outside any of the Lora Weaver books.

The Latest Entry with a little holiday touch!:

🎅🏻 Time Travel Christmas 🎅🏻

"If you could time travel back to any childhood Christmas, which one would you pick and why?" I said.

"What happened to animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

"We need a new game. Twenty questions got old."

So old, like ten minutes ago old. That was the thing about being a PI on a stakeout, which I currently was, under the direct supervision of my boss, Laurent Caron, hot-shot PI and patient player of games that helped pass the more-often-than-not down time on stakeouts while we waited around for something to happen. Or in this case, for our mark to leave the house already.

"What about the alphabet game?" Laurent said.

"Nuh, uh. You picked twenty-questions. I get to pick this time. And I'm picking time travel Christmas."

"Bon ben, Lora. I don't think that's a real game."

"It is now. And you're stalling. Come on, which Christmas would you go back to?"

"That's a big question. I'd have to think about it."

"Fine. I'll go first. But you have to promise to answer after I'm done."

Laurent nodded.

I relaxed into my seat in the work jalopy that was hosting our stakeout vigil. "Let's see. Oh, I know." I smiled at the memory forming in my mind. "The year I was eight we came up to Canada to visit my grandparents. My mom was so excited. She didn't get home too often after she married my dad. They mostly stayed in New York, even for holidays. But that year, my dad gave my mom the trip as a surprise present. At the time, my grandparents worked in Ottawa, but they got a cabin north of the city in these beautiful mountains. I don't remember the name of the place. It had oodles of snow and so many pine trees it was like a Christmas forest.

"Then there was the cabin. More like a chalet, really. Wood with this high-pitched roof, all trimmed in sparkly Christmas lights. The path up to the porch was lined in bushes filled with candy canes and the humungous front door had a grand wreath so big it nearly covered the doorknob. I remember thinking it was like a gingerbread house come to life." I laughed. "I kept wanting to pull off all the candy canes and eat them."

"Ah, so that's why you want to time travel back. To eat the candy canes?"

I laughed some more. "Nope." Though now that I thought about it, as a kid it was so great to eat candy without worrying whether it was good for you or not. I missed that innocence now and again. "Well, maybe that, too."

Laurent darted his eyes from the stakeout house to mine and smiled.

"The house wasn't even the best bit that year," I said, remembering more as I delved deeper into the memory. "It was seeing how my mom lit up when she was around her parents. I mean, I always remember her being more or less happy, but there was something different about her whenever she went home. Like she was lighter somehow, less in step with the world's worries and more carefree. And her language changed. She started talking like my grandma about things like Christmas pudding and Christmas crackers and Father Christmas. I liked that part best. Santa Claus always seemed like an outsider, someone distant, but a Father Christmas, well that got me really thinking." I stopped. "In French you don't say Santa Claus, either, do you?"

"Père Noël," Laurent said.

"Right. Just like my mom's family. Father Christmas. It was their British upbringing I guess. So who did you think your Père Noël was?"

Laurent shrugged. "Same as everyone. The jolly man who brought kids presents and filled socks with toys."

I nodded at our shared view. "For me, it was the first time I'd really taken that Father Christmas name in. I mean, I'd heard my grandma say it before, but it was so rare it didn't stick with me."

"Until that year."

"Right. Until that year. Until that night, really. The cabin had two bedrooms and my grandparents slept in one and my parents in the other. My grandma said I was old enough to stay on my own and set me up in this little den where they kept the TV. I was all sprawled out on the pull-out sofa when she came to tuck me in for the night. She was just coming in, a mug of cocoa in each hand, when the lights went out."

"Ah, winter in Canada," Laurent said on a laugh.

I smiled. "Exactly. Snow started falling just before dinnertime. Huge heaps of it, flakes the size of lemon drops. I could see it out the window, shimmering in the glow of the outdoor Christmas lights against the evening sky. Then the lights went out and we were plunged into darkness inside and out."

"This was the eve of Christmas?"

I shook my head. "No, the day before, the twenty-third I guess. We drove up early and were staying until New Year's. Anyway, within minutes, my grandpa was in the room with a flashlight in one hand and a holiday candelabra in the other. My mom checked on me and they all joked about power outages and the luck of having two fireplaces to keep the cabin warm. 'But what about the bears?' I remember asking."

"Bears?" Laurent said.

"Of course bears. We were in the woods, weren't we? There are always bears in woods."

"Ben, not likely to be wandering around in winter."

"That's what my grandpa said. But I guess I didn't look convinced because the next thing I knew my grandma left the room and came back with a small gift. She said it was for me and that I could open it early. I knew she was just trying to distract me from worrying about bears bursting into the house, but I didn't care. I tore open the wrapping to uncover a book. Want to guess the title?"

Laurent waited a beat then said, "Goldilocks and the Three Bears?"

I grinned. "Good guess, but no. The book was called Father Christmas. And my grandma sat on the couch beside me and began to read it aloud. It was all about Santa—Father Christmas—having to go to work on Christmas Eve to deliver all the presents to kids. Only Father Christmas wasn't jolly, he was grumpy and not happy about having to go out in the cold snow. But he had a cat and a dog and two reindeer, and he lived in a cozy house in a village, and I just loved him. When the book was done, all the grownups cleared out of the little den and said it was time for me to go to sleep. My grandpa set the flashlight on a table and said I could leave it on for as long as I wanted. Which, of course, meant I never turned it off! But I did go to sleep and had dreams all about Father Christmas.

"In the morning, the power was back and after breakfast my grandpa whispered to me that he had to pick up his gift for grandma and asked if I wanted to go with him. I did, so off we went just the two of us in his big jeep of a car. It had these huge wheels and it was so high I needed a boost just to get into the seat. When I looked out the window, I felt like I could see for miles."

"All the better for spotting bears," Laurent interjected, and I jabbed him in the ribs.

"I wasn't afraid of bears anymore. The bears were a faint memory. I was all about the heaps of fresh snow and running errands with my grandpa because I knew whenever he took me out he got me a treat. The treat was always a surprise and it was always good."

"And that's why you'd time travel back to that Christmas? For the treat?"

"I never got the treat. We stopped at a house at the end of a long lane and my grandpa told me to wait in the car while he ran in to get grandma's present. While I was waiting, I surveyed the long lane and about halfway down I saw a deer cross from one side to the other. Then another deer. And then an old man with a fluffy white beard and a red coat."

Laurent grinned. "Don't tell me."

"Yup. I was sure it was Father Christmas. It was just like in the book. He was with two deer and lived in a village. Smack dab in the Christmas forest, which I was sure was the clincher giveaway. In seconds, I jumped from the car and darted after him. I didn't want to talk to him or anything, I just wanted to see his house and his cat and his dog. And maybe get a peek at the sleigh full of toys."

"Pis, did you?"

I laughed. "No. When I ran up the cleared lane then veered into the deep snow to follow his tracks into the forest, I got partway through the trees and my boot got stuck in the tall snow. I yanked and yanked, but it wouldn't budge. Finally, I noticed a branch nearby and grabbed hold of it to brace myself to tug harder. My boot came shooting out of the snow, sending me spiralling backwards, tumbling down a small hill that led to a frozen river where I landed with a thud. When I stood up, my feet plunged through the ice and my legs disappeared below."

Something fluttered in Laurent's eyes. Instinctual worry. Or empathy maybe. Like when someone tells you how they were bullied as a kid and you feel awful they had to endure that pain and hurt.

Instantly, I felt shy about telling the next bit of my memory. "The water was really cold below and soaked through my pants, and I guess I kind of screamed. You know, at the shock of the cold? Anyway, from out of nowhere came this boy. He didn't look much older than me but he was definitely taller. And he wore a big parka with a hood dangling at the back, the tips of his hair fanning out over a big blue and red scarf that matched his hat. He had a long stick in one hand and he came charging over to the river edge, stopped, and yelled something at me I didn't understand. Probably because I was too busy flailing and screaming."

I shifted positions in my seat, feeling a fleeting cold numbness in my legs like a sense memory bringing me back to the event.

"The boy tapped his stick on the ice near him and told me to be calm, that it was solid and he could get me out. That I understood, so I slowed my screams to gasps and stopped flailing, expecting him to come closer. But instead he told me to hold onto the ice in front of me and kick my legs up and out behind me like I was swimming. I remember thinking that sounded crazy, but then he crouched down and the look in his eyes told me to trust him so I did. When my legs rose, he told me to pull myself forward onto the stronger ice and crawl on my belly over to where he held out the big stick to me. I did, practically barreling the stick his way before he helped me stand and make my way with him to the shore."

I paused, my gaze falling to my hands in my lap. It wasn't often a girl plunged through ice and it wasn't a memory easy to forget, but usually I didn't revisit it in such detail. I was a bit surprised at how easily it all came flowing back.

I took in a big breath, raised my eyes, and continued. "When we got to the land I remember my whole body was shaking. The boy took off his parka to wrap around me and was just adding his scarf to my neck when I looked up and saw my grandpa and the man with the white beard, both standing at the hilltop glaring at us. My grandpa's cheeks were so red I wasn't sure if he was cold or angry as he rushed down to me." I gave it some thought. "In hindsight, I figure he was probably more worried than angry or cold. At any rate, I remember him returning the coat to the boy and all of us going up the hill where my grandpa chatted with the boy and the bearded man in French. My grandpa's French had a British tone, but the boy and the bearded man's didn't, and I didn't understand a word from any of them. I only remember it passing fast and my grandpa whisking me away. And then my grandma and mother fussing over me when we got back to the cabin."

"Puis, no more tracking of Father Christmas? No more spotting of his reindeer or trying to see his home?"

I chuckled. "Nope. Which was very disappointing because it would have been a great story to tell my friends when I got back to school."

"Bon ben, then that's why you want to time travel back. To finish your mission."

"Actually, I want to time travel back to thank the boy for saving me. My grandpa took me home so fast I didn't get the chance to talk to the boy at all. Plus, his coat was given back, but I still had his scarf and never got to return it."

"Had or have?"

"Had, of course." I rolled my eyes. "It was forever ago. But I did have the scarf for a long time. It was great. It was super soft and smelled like cinnamon toast. You know, brown sugar and butter and cinnamon on warm bread? I'm not sure what happened to the scarf. I remember wearing it even in high school. It was the kind of material that didn't fray from the wash, it just got softer."

Laurent shrugged. "Ben, if you don't have the scarf anymore you couldn't give it back now."

"Well duh. Think about it. If I time travelled back I would still have it, though, wouldn't I?"

Laurent grinned. "But if you gave it back all that time ago, you wouldn't have been able to wear it in high school."

"True."

"And if you go back and change a detail like that in your life, what happens to the rest? It's the butterfly effect, no? And what about the boy? His life after would change also."

"Only if you get all technical about it. There are no technicalities in the time travel game. In the game, it can turn out however you want."

"And you'd want to see that boy again?"

"Well, he did save my life after all."

"Maybe. Or maybe you would have got out of the ice on your own eventually. And if not, your grandfather would have found you."

"Hey, who's time travel game is this? Anyway, now it's your turn."

The garage door buzzed open on the house we were watching and a car crept out.

"Oupelaï," Laurent said, starting up our work jalopy. "Enough games for now. We've got a target to follow."

"That's so not fair. I told you mine. You have to tell me yours." I pointed out the windshield. "It's not like we're going to lose the target. We're all stuck in traffic."

"Okay, okay," Laurent said, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. "If I could time travel to a past Christmas, I would go to the time the cute girl with the pink hat and long braids was stuck in some ice—"

"Wait." I held up my hand to interrupt him. "That's my story. You can't just steal my story. It has to be a Christmas from your past."

The traffic light up ahead turned green and our stream of cars sped forward, everyone trying to clear the intersection before the light went red again. Laurent leaned on the gas to keep up with our mark, and I kept my eye on the grey sedan we were following.

"And anyway," I continued. "I never said anything about wearing a pink hat or having my hair in braids. How did you know that?"

Laurent changed gears on the car and kept his eyes on the road. "Lucky guess."

                                                     🎅🏻🎄 🎅🏻

Copyright 2021, Katy Leen