A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS! (I know, I know, I already said that.) A sincere thanks to everyone who reviewed—you're lovelies to find something to praise in that prologue of a chapter. And thanks for the generous spirit of all Brits out there, including Guest, who gently pointed out that my Yank is showing. I temporarily forgot how civilized you all are over on that side of the pond, meaning that medical treatment isn't a debt sentence. Also, make that $402.87 £301.23. I was too busy referencing O. Henry to use my brain. My apologies. :s
Another brief installment. Part III is almost finished…
Part II – Two Turtledoves
The next morning Anthony left early for work so he could take a 20-minute detour past Edith's house. He just wanted to see… And as he craned his neck, he glimpsed the lambent, cheerful crown of a Christmas tree through the cottage's front window. He smiled, wishing he could've seen the looks on their faces. He'd hoped it had been a magical moment for the little girl. He'd had Thomas leave the tree on the stoop, and he'd added a note that said "To make your Christmas Merry and Bright, bring me inside and give me a light!"
As he cruised toward the train station, the smile still lingering on his lips and bright contentment radiating through him, Anthony thought about Thomas's quip that his tree had looked like "a partridge in a pear tree." He began to hum the jaunty little tune. On the first day of Christmas… His mind wandered—funny that a bird should be called after a reptile. Why was it called a turtledove anyway? Did they really nuzzle noses as lovers were supposed to do? Come to think of it, he'd never actually seen grown adults do that, usually he saw mothers do it with their children…
He conjured the image of Edith and her daughter before he was even conscious of doing so. And then he knew he had to. He simply had to get a special paired gift for Edith and her little girl. It might be the only gifts they got this Christmas, he reasoned. And then he'd stop. Just one more surprise to make the holiday special for a six-year-old girl and the hardworking mum who loved her. Or perhaps, he mused, it was the other way around…
Anthony felt as though his lunch hour would never come. As soon as it did, he ransacked the shops near his office, trying to restrain himself from going too far with his gifts—he didn't want to overwhelm or make Edith uncomfortable. With the help of a most efficient shopgirl, he decided on two soft fuzzy robes with matching plush Christmas socks and two Christmas mugs with gourmet hot chocolate kits. As he went to join the queue to pay, he passed a rack with bath bombs wrapped to look like bulbous Christmas candies. On impulse, he added one of those too—a sweet vanilla that evoked cozy winter nights. He imagined Edith and her daughter (he really must discover the child's name) snuggled on the sofa after a warm bath, bundled in their robes and socks, sipping hot chocolate and reading a Christmas story…
Then, just as he was about to pay, something glimmered in the corner of his eye. In a small box displayed on the counter, was a set of matching silver charms—two small birds with necks stretched forward as if to kiss one another.
Two turtledoves.
As he paid, he told himself that really was it.
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Edith pushed open her car door and willed her weary limbs to move. She worked part-time for a multi-platform media production company, a small-but-mighty local institution in Ripon. Unfortunately, the institution was also limited in funds, so Edith had to work another job as well, where she'd been today; running around taking care of a dozen little worries in an elder care facility. She fought the urge to order pizza as her aching feet found the ground beneath her, her sleepy brain half-registering Marigold's excited chatter as the girl bobbed along towards the door. There were two boxes cluttering the small stoop. One bore the bold arcing script of her sister Sybil, and she gave a tired smile. That would be the Christmas presents from the family. Edith felt a pang that all she'd been able to send back were a few cheap paperbacks for the kids, and the annual subscription to her company's one youth magazine. She stooped toward the other package, unadorned save for a handwritten note: "A little something for two ladies who deserve a cozy Christmas." Edith furrowed her brow. That handwriting seemed familiar… Tightly spaced, in swift looping patterns… In fact, she was almost certain it was the same as the note on the Christmas tree yesterday…
Again her brain queried. Why would someone be sending her gifts? And who? As she pondered, Marigold provided an answer.
"Santa brought us a present! He brought the Christmas tree last night, and today he's brought us something else!"
Edith looked up from the package and gave her daughter a grin. "Maybe," she said mysteriously.
But her journalist's brain was firing off questions, curiosity pushing through her weariness. Who was this secret Santa? And how did they know how much she needed a little Christmas magic this year? Her eyes landed again on the handwritten note. Some kindly soul was on the other end of that note, someone generous and thoughtful, someone who felt like a friend. She wished she could thank them, could know them. She took the notecard and slid it into her pocket. Ok friend, I'm going to do my best to discover who you are…
XXX
A/N: For your edification, a turtledove is so called out of the Latin name "turtur" which is an approximation of the cooing noise the bird makes. Turtur dove: turtledove.