“Let’s go, people. We’re on a mission!” Samantha shouted from behind the wheel of her compact car.
Deckard closed the door, then shuffled around the hood of the truck before sliding inside.
The truck pulled out onto the street and Samantha quickly steered her vehicle in line behind them.
“You know, I’m surprised at how easily Samantha came on board with this entire Christmas thing. We both know that I believe you, but most people would think you needed to be committed. No offense.”
“That’s the thing about Samantha, her friends are her family, and if I told her that there was a twelve-foot abominable snowman living in my backyard she wouldn’t question me at all.”
“You mean you don’t have one?” he feigned shock and January slapped his arm with the back of her hand.
“Seriously, Samantha knows when I’m lying, she always has. And she’s always up for a reason to add sparkles to her world.”
Deckard nodded as they reached the town limits and turned on the radio. January hated to admit that it seemed strange to hear regular music playing on the station. He must have caught her expression.
“Why the sullen face?”
“Are there no winter solstice songs?”
“No, I don’t think so. What has you looking like you
just lost your cat?”
“Christmas music was kind of like nails on a chalkboard to me. They took over all my favorite stations and you couldn’t go anywhere without hearing them. But now that they aren’t around, I kind of miss them. I know that sounds silly.” She shrugged her shoulders knowing that there was nothing she could do about the missing music.
“No, it doesn’t. It seems like maybe you took the holiday for granted.”
“It wasn’t just me, everyone seemed to, but I’m the only one that had a countdown for it to be over.”
“I’m sorry, January. Maybe you could sing one for me?” He looked at her with large puppy dog eyes and blinked those incredibly long eyelashes that men seemed to always be graced with
She laughed loudly at his suggestion, so hard, in fact, that she clutched her stomach as the chuckles soared out of her.
“You absolutely do not want to hear me sing. You’ve never heard a more horrific sound.”
“I seriously doubt that. I bet you have a great voice, low and sultry.”
January had never sung in front of anyone. No one had ever asked. Her brother had once heard her singing in the bathroom when she was eight. She had been getting ready for a party, and when she stepped out of the room, he had told her she sounded like a dying animal. January hadn’t sung since that day. Now that she had time to ponder the situation, maybe her brother was just being mean and not honest.
“There is one song that I kind of always liked.”
“I’d like to hear it. Please.” Deckard looked over to her and smiled, puppy dog eyes long gone. And there was no way she could deny him anything when he smiled at her that way. Heck, he could ask her to dance naked outside and she wouldn’t think twice about it.
Closing her eyes, January began to hum the beat of the song. It came as second nature, having heard it every year since she could remember. Then the lyrics started to surge as she sang “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
The truck stopped, but January kept singing, the words flowing through her without abandon. She felt the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes until it became too much and one lone tear escaped, sliding down her cheek.
As the last word poured from her lips, she felt Deckard’s hand touch her cheek to wipe away her sadness. January was embarrassed by her reaction to the song, but it was too late to make excuses now. Her eyes opened and she took in the tree-lined landscape before them.
“Look at me,” Deckard demanded in a quiet confidence. Her head turned toward him, but she couldn’t bring her eyes to meet his. “Look at me, beautiful.” January heard the sadness flitting through his gravelly voice and she drew her eyes up to meet his. He said with a sullen smile, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how hard that may have been for you.”
Shaking her head, January tried to toss aside her sudden sadness, replacing it with a small smile. “I’m fine. Honestly. I think it just got to me that I’ll never get to hear the song again.”
Deckard opened his mouth wanting to say more, but a knock on January’s window brought their attention to Samantha, waiting anxiously outside rocking back and forth in her designer boots.
The handle felt cold under her hand as January reached to open the door, but she stopped when she feels Deckard’s grip on her arm.
“Hey, I know that this may be your last Christmas, but we’re going to make it the best one. Trust me.”