Note from the author : A few years ago, the Gaslight Hotel and Gaslight Tavern groups had a writing challenge involving the adaptation of one of our favorite children's stories, and this was mine. There may be characters mentioned in the story who are no longer a part of the Crowe's Point universe, so I apologize in advance for any confusion as the story remains written and current to that point in time. Please enjoy!
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Now, mind," cried Gretel, seeing her advantage, "I'll feel awful if you give up the skates. I don't want them. I'm not so stingy as that; but I want YOU to have them, and then when I get bigger, they'll do for me--oh--count the pieces, Hans. Did you ever see so many!"
Hans turned the money thoughtfully in his palm. Never in all his life had he longed so intensely for a pair of skates, for he had known of the race and had fairly ached for a chance to test his powers with the other children. He felt confident that with a good pair of steel runners he could readily outdistance most of the boys on the canal. Then, too, Gretel's argument was plausible. On the other hand, he knew that she, with her strong but lithe little frame, needed but a week's practice on good runners to make her a better skater than Rychie Korbes or even Katrinka Flack. As soon as this last thought flashed upon him, his resolve was made. If Gretel would not have the jacket, she should have the skates.
"No, Gretel," he answered at last, "I can wait. Someday I may have money enough saved to buy a fine pair. You shall have these."
“What the hell’s the name of this story again?”
Tina jerked awake, running a hand over her face as she tried to remember where she was and why she was there. Glancing around without sitting up, she saw that she was bundled within several blankets and comforters, her head resting upon two plump pillows, and the room was glowing a soft golden red from not only the fireplace light, but the many lanterns on table tops and the mantlepiece.
The Hotel. She was in Crowe’s Hotel and then she recalled the reason. The snowstorm...no power...Heat out everywhere, even at the Biebe home and the ranch Mannie and NormaJean shared. Strike that: not a simple snowstorm but what was the worst blizzard in recorded Point history. And here they all were – residents and the few guests that arrived before the weather went bad – bunched together like the proverbial sardines, feeling somewhat sorry for themselves and in a mass of complete confusion until things had finally settled down and become organized. They’d gotten food and drink in their stomachs...
Now even more returned to her thoughts. Shouting at Maximus about that stupid replaceable chair (she did manage an apology a little earlier and was glad he accepted for she’d felt awful)....Doing nothing to stop a few of the brothers when they nearly burned those lovely books....
The books. Hando had been reading to them from some children’s book or two – boys’ adventures...girls’ tales. Oh! That’s right. She had loved hearing about Robin Hood since the Errol Flynn movie was a great favorite of hers, and – she smiled, the covers still wrapped over her head so no one could see her – she had forgotten so many of the stories that had been favorites from childhood or become known to her only through movies.
But whose voice was that wondering about this latest story? Not Hando’s....
“It’s called...” Tina peeped out from her “tent” and saw Hando flipping back several pages. “Hans Brinker...Or The Silver Skates. It’s an...abridged version. Thought the Sheriff might enjoy it.” He saw John Biebe nod in acknowledgment.
The mystery voice (she could now identify it as having been Bud’s for her mind was clearing more) now asked, “Well, which is it? Hans Brinker or The Silver Skates?”
“Story’s got two titles ‘cause I figure the silver skates have to do with this Hans Brinker. Want me to keep going, sport?”
“There’s no gingerbread house in this one?” Terry asked quite seriously, causing Kaz and everyone else to stare at him.
“Why would you think there’s a gingerbread...?” Beej asked. Part of her wanted to laugh although she sat there with her mouth hanging open.
“Because the little boy is named Hans and his sister’s name is Gretel. Hans and Gretel, right? Weren’t they in that story about the witch and the gingerbread house?” Terry was still serious.
“Oh shit...” Hando mumbled, turning back to where he was in the story. “Interruptions, interruptions...Stupid buggers.”
“That was Hansel and Gretel,” NormaJean piped up from her corner of the room, hoping she didn’t wake up some of those that were sleeping close-by, including the Girardeaus, Karen, John Nash and Arthur Baskin, both Anthony and the Point accountant softly snoring away. Even Nash was more at ease, despite it feeling so confined here with all these others, and he had dozed only upon knowing that Karen was asleep. But neither Anthony or Arthur had anything on Jack Aubrey, who had blessedly moved to an adjacent room where Beej would go to check on him quite often. His snoring, nearly as loud as the engine of a 757, had driven everyone insane, and even now, one could hear him as the noise penetrated the thick walls.
“I’ll go see to that.” Beej crawled to her feet and eased out.
Meanwhile, Terry appeared honestly puzzled at NormaJean’s response. “Strewth? So these aren’t the same little kids then?”
Mannie also looked astonished and leaning over so NormaJean could hear him he said, “I thought it was them too.”
No...because Hans and Gretel were in Holland and Hansel and Gretel were probably in Germany Tina laughed to herself, glad that at least it was all good-natured arguing and not some of the words that had gone between all of them when things seemed to be collapsing around them.
“Are you just bein’ a total hoon or are you just workin’ at it?” That came from Colin, who seemed nearly ready to laugh his head off for the first time in ages. “It said The Silver Skates. There was nothing about a gingerbread house. If it was it would have talked about the wicked stepmum and the dad strandin’ them...”
Hando gave a loud sigh. “Are you boofheads done so I can continue?”
“Boofhead?” Chloe softly asked Cort, realizing for the first time that the former gunslinger’s head was bowed as though he was nodding off. Although they were a few feet from the others they had been enjoying the various tales, but while one of the Point’s latest arrivals was busy jotting things down on a yellow notepad – a task she started hours before -- only to discard a sheet of paper after seeming dissatisfied with whatever she was writing, Cort leaned on one hand, his elbow propped on the coffee table they were at. It was one of the last pieces of furniture left in the room and he had claimed it as his own “bed,” declaring that if necessary, he would lay on it to prevent its’ destruction. As time passed, he was unsure what she was doing, but she was keeping herself busy...as well as warm, one hand easing out from her covers so she could write. “Cort?”
“Hmph?”
“What’s a boofhead?”
“Something like a silly bugger I think,” he muttered, still partially asleep. It wasn’t all that comfortable sitting nearly Buddha-like beside a coffee table.
“Oh thanks. That helped.”
“Welcome,” and he began to drift again.
That comment earned a quiet giggle from Tina, the sound causing John Biebe to crawl out from under the blankets on his side of the mattress to where he had left her once she drifted off to sleep. She had remained awake nearly the entire night, her moments of sleep tiny snatches that didn’t last, but at some point during Hando’s reading of Hans Brinker, John felt her head sliding off his shoulder. He managed to catch her before she hit the floor, tucked her beneath the bedding, and while he listened – still having trouble sleeping – there was never a time when he didn’t at least lean near her to make certain she was all right. After all, it was the least he could attempt in what he felt was his own feeble way, and he wondered yet again about the difficulties connected to being the spouse or companion of a Keeper.
“Tina?” he whispered, watching as two brown eyes suddenly turned to look up at him.
“Hey!” she sleepily replied.
“Hey back. You okay?”
She pushed a button on her wristwatch so that it was illuminated. Five-fifty. Nearly daybreak. “Mmm...how long...” She ran a hand over her face, hoping that would clear her thoughts even more. “How...uh...How long have I been sleep?”
John reclined beside her so that once Tina had repositioned herself, they were face-to-face, keeping their voices low as Hando continued his reading. “Not long – about two hours give or take. You feel better?”
“A little.” She sighed, taking one of his hands and clutching it. “I wish we were home.”
“Me too. Bunking’s okay when you’re camping or something...but not on Christmas Eve with all the friends and relations and no place to go,” he grinned.
“It is Christmas Eve, isn’t it? I’d almost forgotten...” Her mind was drifting once more as she remembered all of those holidays she had spent with him since her initial arrival at the Point. Their first Christmas – both in love with one another but still wondering where it might lead in the end. The Valentine Day when she ran late, and the one when she thought she had a mystery lover....The surprise birthday party when he proposed....All the St. Paddy’s Days, the Easter Sundays she took so seriously, the Derby celebrations and the Fourth of July. ANZAC days and Guy Fawkes Days. Thanksgiving – so incredibly American but the one holiday they all looked forward to since it meant food and yes, being thankful for all the years they had shared as an extended family. Terry Thorne had once joked that this place would find pretty much any reason to have a party.
But Christmastime remained the most special, even when there were troubles...and she thought back to when Nash arrived and Michelle – as sole Keeper – had gone into her own form of madness, nearly ripping apart everyone and everything.
“If we’re lucky the Creator won’t play anybody like that again.”
Tina realized that John had sensed what bothered her. Nodding she said, “Well...Jack’s arrival wasn’t so bad for Chelle. Jim’s either and...here’s hoping Max won’t cause any major problems. If we’re lucky, Trisha’ll just want to plant more vines. Beats wanting to take up boxing I guess.”
John laughed out loud, then reddened slightly, hoping he had not awakened anyone. Softening his voice again he continued. “I...know you sense it too darlin’...what she goes through I mean. Can’t be helped.”
“It’s nothing.”
“But it’s like the way you feel when we go Outside, isn’t it?”
She shrugged, not wanting him to worry although she knew he was very much aware. “It’s much more...I don’t know...It’s...similar. I mean...we knew all of this when...” She rubbed at her eyes, almost laughing herself. “I almost said when the mantle was passed to us....That sounded very...Biblical.”
“Yeah...well...”
Tina watched John’s eyes squint. He knew there was more. “I can’t hide a thing from you, can I?”
“Not really....So did you get a good sleep? Too damn short for my tastes. I was hoping you’d get a few more hours in.”
“I...” She paused, listening to Hando’s clear phrasing. “I was...dreaming.”
“You were? What about? Do you remember it?”
“I....Isn’t it funny...?”
“What?”
“How you’re thinking about one thing when you fall asleep...and you dream about something that has totally nothing to...” She shook her head. “I know Hando was reading Hans Brinker...”
“You were dreaming about silver skates?” John smiled.
“No...I was dreaming...” Tina stopped. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Why?”
“It’s...I’ll tell you later,” she repeated. Her memories of the dream had been in snatches on first awakening but now it was vividly returning to her and this was one she would prefer to discuss in private, if John would allow her. He probably already had a good idea because she suddenly felt the fingers of one hand caressing her red hair, the loose curls falling below her shoulders, while the other drew the blankets, quilts and comforters over them.
“When I first met you...you had those pretty straw curls, remember? The ones they make with real straws?” She nodded. “You...I had no idea we’d come to this.”
“Me either. I thought ‘Okay...I’ll come on my off days; attach a V-day here and there.’ Then the weekends seemed to get longer....Then I wanted to be with you on holidays too. And remember...remember we really, really thought we could get married and I could keep working in the Real World and...I should have known that wouldn’t work.”
“Well...we tried. I wanted to try to give a little, you know, see if it worked.”
“I don’t know how I thought it would though....This...All this...” Tears began to brim in her eyes. “It’s home – always has been. I’ve...I’ve just been so...so...down lately...with everything....Nothing seeming to go the way I....I feel like I’ve let Chelle down...”
“No...”
“All of you down. She entrusted this to us and now Trisha won’t be back until spring and I just...” She swallowed hard, hoping no one heard the gulp, heard the sobs that were threatening to break from her chest. “I...” Burying her face in her husband’s neck he heard her mumble, “I just want the whole damn year to be over. It’s like everything has been a disaster...just one disaster on top of another and I...I can’t control it. I can’t do anything.”
John held her closer, knowing very well that her words went well beyond the events at the Point. They had all nearly gone into hysterics in June when a disturbance like nothing they had ever known had occurred, wiping aside the initial box office disappointment of Cinderella Man as they were swallowed up in the filth from Outside. To this day, Tina had never seen the photographs taken that dreadful Monday....It was too bitter; too upsetting....He knew – without her saying – that she feared the Point would completely vanish under the weight of it, as almost gleeful ronouncements from the media spoke of maximum prison sentences and compared the Creator to the worst terrorists in the world, exaggerating the Incident until it seemed the crime of the century! She would curse the press as stupid, damn malfunctioning phones, criticize snooty concierges...then take a deep breath and go on, even as the fears pressed on her mind, both within their world and out. November had brought better news of course but still....
“I don’t think any of us expect you to be a miracle worker, sweetheart. And God knows we sure didn’t see any of that from June coming.”
“Funny thing is...we didn’t see anything coming. Nothing. It was just all too...” She sighed again. “It’s just beyond me sometimes.”
“You want my advice, stupid as it is?”
She smiled and brushed his cheek. “Sure Sheriff. What?”
“Let it go. No...Tina...let it go. Not only are you not a miracle worker, you’re not God. I know things...I know it all hit the fan for months but sometimes...sometimes we’ve got to know when to stop beating up on ourselves, especially when there’s nothing we can do about it. Outside was a mess but we couldn’t help him...as much as we wanted to, what the hell could we do? And it’s the damn studio’s fault releasing the movie when....”
“And everything in here?”
“The same....Look...I know....Don’t think I don’t know.” He touched the tip of her nose. “You don’t mean to, but sometimes those eyes of yours give you away...or you just think too darn loud.” There – a smile...finally a smile. “No...don’t ever think I don’t know...and nothing we’ve been through this year...” He shook his head. “It’s cliched, but hang in there. If you thought it was all too much and you wanted it to end, you could just go back out there and forget it, but you haven’t. And it’s not just me you’re thinking about. It’s all my brothers...” He could hear a couple of them having another good-natured disagreement. “It’s my brothers damn them...and the ones that come here and find...something.”
“John! Hey John!” That came from Steve, the humor obvious in his voice. “What the hell are you and Tina doing under there?”
“None of your damn business!” John shouted back and he would have laughed even harder had he seen Donna give Steve a sharp deserving nudge in the ribs. But when his attention returned to Tina, he could see that she was taking his words into deep consideration.
“I miss them,” she choked. She was remembering the ladies that were at the old Crowe’s Nest when she first wandered into this place...had it been more than five years ago? Then it became Crowe’s Point and a few departed, never to return. Others, too, had come and gone over time, but for some reason, the last year had seen too many leave and she knew in her heart they would never see them in this world again. Not the lurkers – they flitted about like flies and one never knew with them, but the ones that had once made the Point their home...and then found reason to go, leaving behind the loss of their presence and a brokenhearted now former Companion.
“I know...I know...I miss them too.”
“I...I’ve just wondered – once they get here...how can they go? I mean...the ones we loved. You’re right – it’s not a Utopia. We’ve had ups and downs....but I just don’t get why they say good-bye, forever I mean. Especially the ones I thought were so happy here with us.”
“Well...they all had reasons. Some couldn’t help it. Some of ‘em had to go. You couldn’t force them to stay. And maybe...maybe a few of them weren’t meant to be here forever anyway darlin’ – you ever thought of that?”
“Yeah...”
“And look at the bright side.”
“What?” Her touch, her gaze were tender.
“They never quit coming. Look at Chloe and Darcy, eh? Beej? Sara? You just...There are some we don’t even know about yet, but they’ll get here...and want to stay here...and be happy...like you. And who knows? One day maybe we’ll see one or two of the others again. You can’t be sure where your path will take you and I don’t count out anything anymore, not since I ended up here. And we’ll love them and pretend like they never left.”
For the first time in the longest he watched her eyes glow with expectation...with plans for the future...his words proving a small epiphany for her and when she pulled his head towards her so she could kiss him, John knew it was out of love...and gratitude.
“Mates! You’re not going to believe this!!”
Andy’s words startled everyone out of their deep sleep, napping or conversation. They all turned to where a figure in woolen hat, heavy Thinsulated jacket, Blundstones, muffler and gloves was standing in the doorway, most never realizing that the young man had left the large dining room a little while before to take a bathroom break and stretch his legs. In fact in all the winter clothing, he was almost unrecognizable.
“Who is that?” Alex grumbled as he rolled over. He had been getting a very good sleep – despite the cold – and didn’t appreciate being awakened.
On seeing that he was getting nothing but casual or uninterested looks, Andy sighed and waved one hand as if indicating outside the room. “Get off your bums – my apologies to the sheilas – but you all need to take a squizz at this!” He started backing up then took off at a dead run, but not before shouting, “Come on – off your arses!”
“He’s not going to leave us alone until we do,” John told Tina, glad to hear her laugh. “Let’s go see what has him stirred up.”
Minutes later – after donning their coats and footwear – they were following in Andy’s footsteps as he rushed ahead of them, urging them with “Come on!” until several of his brothers were ready to throw him through a wall.
“If he wants us to see some bloody bird or squirrel doing something cute, I’m going to kick his arse!” Terry griped.
But the moment Andy threw open the hotel’s front doors, and he felt himself being pushed from behind as the large group eagerly gathered in the threshold, one of his Aussie brothers exclaiming “Fuck!” it was now apparent about the source of his excitement.
The blizzard had stopped and despite the sun only now beginning to illuminate the eastern horizon, the dull grey clouds burning away like unraveling threads, the foot or more of snow that had buried them inside the building had gone! In its’ place, all around them, was a pretty white blanket – pure, untouched, barely an inch of perfect Christmas snow, the flakes coming down not in intense amounts but with the poetry of graceful wings.
“Where did it go?” No one was sure who said it, but the voice expressed the incredulousness they all felt.
“Who cares? It’s gone!” and a cheer went up.
“Isn’t it somethin’?!” Andy told them, his chest puffed out with pride. “That’s why I had to get you. Figured you’d think it was pure furphy if I told you and you didn’t see it for yourselves.”
Terry patted him on the back. “Well...I’m totally gobsmacked.”
Tina, standing off to one side with John’s arms wrapped about her, was smiling as she watched her brothers-in-law and her friends and guests whooping and nearly dancing in delight as some rushed back into the Hotel to get their belongings, and others threw caution to the wind and took off for their vehicles or towards the Tavern. And then, momentarily, it was quiet.
“We need to get back inside; get our things, okay?”
“Okay.” She was still staring straight ahead.
“Then if you want to head back over to the house, I can stay here for a bit, try to help them get things straightened out. The place is a mess....Tina? Tina?”
“Hmm?”
“You all right?”
She shook her head, not in disagreement but astonishment. “It’s like...It’s like it never happened.”
John chuckled. “Great isn’t it and just in time for Christmas too. You know...if Savannah was here...”
“I know. I was thinking that too.” She cocked her head to one side. “I wonder when the snow finally stopped?”
“I wonder when it melted?” John asked, grinning. “Oh well...guess it’s something else we can chalk up to Point magic, eh?” He took one of Tina’s hands, gently tugging it as he prepared to return indoors. “Beats trying to find some other logic to it. You ready darlin’? You must be freezing.”
“I...Yeah.” But they had barely walked a few feet when Tina turned again, her attention drawn back to the Hotel’s main yard, the snow sparkling in diminutive prisms as the sun rose higher. The Alaskan watched her, not speaking as she slowly turned, her eyes sweeping over everything within her view, until he saw a slow smile appear on her lips.
“Darlin’?”
“I’m...I...I’m glad we talked...back there I mean...after I woke up.”
“Sure.” Now he was uncertain where she was going with this. “Anytime you know...right?”
“Right. It made me feel better...” She sighed. “It made me feel better than I have in a long, long time.”
“Well like I said, anytime....Now come on,” he insisted, pulling her forward until they were moving through the foyer, carefully avoiding the ones rushing around them. “And when we get home and settled back in...”
“Yes?” She suspected he was thinking of them having a romantic Christmas Eve together once services and the party were over.
“I want to hear more about that dream of yours.”
Tina’s only response was to smile even more and lean against him, slipping an arm about his waist. “We’ll see....We’ll see.”
THE END
Notes: The inspiration for The Gift came from the short story, The Gift of the Magi, written by the American O. Henry a.k.a. William Sydney Porter, who was born in North Carolina on the 11th of September 1862 and took the pen name for his writing after serving time in Federal prison for embezzlement. His claim to fame, besides his wonderful stories, was that he was a master in weaving stories with surprise endings, such as The Gift of the Magi, which along with The Ransom of Red Chief, may be among his most famous. A text of the original may be currently found at: http://www.auburn.edu/~vestmon/Gift_of_the_Magi.html
I want to thank Sharon for being my beta this time out, as well as giving me the suggestion of the story.
The final paragraph of my story was taken from the final paragraph of O. Henry’s, and there are scenes I must credit to his as well as some of the dialogue. The name of the hair store owner was also his creation, and I could not help giving him a sort of cameo by christening the landlady ‘Mrs. Henry’!
The story excerpt in the Epilogue is from Hans Brinker, or The Silver Skates by Mary Mapes Dodge and can be found at http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext96/hboss10.txt
Photographs of the brush and combs that Dream John gave Dream Tina can be found at the Live Journal link of http://community.livejournal.com/gaslight_hotel/52415.html
