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2 I’ll Be Home for Christmas
Rob
The snow has let up substantially,but the roads are still a mess, making every mile feel a thousand times longer than it should.
Mike and Alex have already been dropped off at their respective houses, and my stop is last.
The car pulls up to the curb. The driver turns around with a friendly but tired smile. “Merry Christmas to you. Thanks for chipping in.”
“Worth every penny,” I tell him honestly before climbing out. “Merry Christmas. Be safe.”
“Will do!”
No sooner do I close the door than he pulls away, another several hours of driving ahead of him on his way north.
If that guy isn’t Clarence the angel in disguise, then this has been the weirdest yet luckiest Christmas of all time.
Everything is dark and quiet on the home front, save for the gleam of electric candles in the windows. The lights Mike and I hung during the only day we had off for Thanksgiving break offer a warm welcome, in spite of being covered by snow. If anything, the added layer gives the entire a house a sort of dreamy quality. It’s almost like being at the North Pole. The rolling snow banks that have to be at least two feet high add to the fantasy.
The driveway hasn’t been shoveled yet, but there are tire tracks that indicate at least several trips to and from the garage. The packed snow will be a bitch to clear away tomorrow, but if Alex and Mike both agree to help, we should be able to get it done in an hour or less.
Snow crunches under my feet as I trudge my way up the sidewalk, my duffel bag thrown over my shoulder. The closer I get to the quiet house, the more I reconsider my surprise presence. It’s only six in the evening, but it appears no one’s home.
I don’t know where they had to be on Christmas day, but it’s not like anyone expected me, so they might have made other plans.
The door knob doesn’t budge on the front door. Locked up tight.
I didn’t drive nearly twenty-four hours with a ragtag bunch of guys in a rented mini-van— determined to make it home for Christmas—only to give up this easily. My sore, overworked muscles protest as I make my way around back in the knee-deep snow.
Once I round the garage, a glimmer of light shines like a beacon from the kitchen window. The faint sound of Christmas music filters out into the night, offering me the tiniest bit of hope that all is not lost.
As quietly as possible, I sneak in the back door. Shrugging off my coat and snow-covered boots in the mud room, I’m acutely aware of the scent of warm vanilla mixed with spices. My mouth waters and my stomach gurgles. It’s been hours since I tasted anything other than Red Bull.
The sight that meets me in the kitchen almost makes me give up the game and reveal myself.
Almost.
Knowing full well this surprise might completely backfire, I count on the volume of the music and her focus on the current task at hand to give me enough cover to make my way around the kitchen island. I don’t stop my forward movement until my chest hovers at her back, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body.
She hums to herself, completely oblivious to my presence as a loony smile erupts over my face.
Unable to restrain myself a second longer, I wrap my arms around her waist and bury my nose into her hair.
Home at last.
She stiffens for only a moment in my arms, then tries to twist around to face me. I hold on tighter.
“How?” she breathes.
After a couple more heartbeats of hugging my fill, I spin her around, unable to compose my expression to match the seriousness of my tone. “Santa let me hitch a ride on his sleigh.”
“You hitchhiked here?” Her eyes widen. “All the way from Texas? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”
I glance around, but we’re alone. The only light coming from the living room appears to be from the tree, and other than the Christmas music that’s playing from her phone on the counter, there’s not another trace of human presence in the whole house. “Where is everyone?”
“They went to visit some friends, but I stayed behind to clean up dinner and do a bit more baking. Does your mom know you’re here?”
“Yep. And I didn’t hitchhike. Me and a couple other guys pitched in to rent a van, and we all took turns driving through the night to get home for Christmas.”
