Part One
Snowflakes swished off the wipers of the mail truck to the beat of “Winter Wonderland” blaring from the city’s speakers. Belle popped her earmuffs over her beanie, successfully dulling the sound.
Christmas lights blinked chaotically, bouncing off the sea of brake lights in front of her. It was no wonder they weren’t moving—herds of people flooded the stores and crossed the street with armfuls of Christmas bags. Packages tumbled to the pavement, red-faced children screamed, and inflatable snowmen sagged on the ground.
And her boss hadn’t made the holidays any easier. His voice replayed in her head, “If I get any more complaints about you, you can forget your Christmas break.” She couldn’t let that happen. Her packed bag and tickets to Florida were waiting for her at the P.O.
Tickets.
That was so stupid. Why had she bought two when she wasn’t even sure the other one would be used?
She scrolled through her contacts and pressed call on his number. No answer. What did she expect? She re-read the text he’d sent her last week.
“I need my key back.”
Belle sighed and watched it dangle from her keyring.
Traffic hadn’t moved in about five minutes, so she sifted through her mailbag to see how much was left. But she found a letter for her. From Mom. She smiled and opened the envelope.
On the front, a cartoon Santa hugged a child resembling Belle with her long brown hair, cozy jeggings, and white beanie. It read:
Love isn’t meant to be said; it’s meant to be shown.
Merry Christmas!
You’re welcome home if you change your mind. Let us know if you need anything. Have fun on your trip!
Mom & Dad
Belle sighed and slid it onto the dash. She just didn’t feel like going through the motions this year. She’d rather spend the holidays as if they didn’t even exist.
Not to her surprise, the traffic still hadn’t moved. There had to be a good magazine or something lying around. Blindly reaching behind her, she grabbed the one on top. “Ooh, Cat Fancy.” How. freaking. cute. On the cover, a white, fluffy cat with a Santa cap sat in front of a fully lit Christmas tree.
Belle flipped through the magazine, looking up now and then to make sure the traffic hadn’t moved. Of course, it hadn’t. Not this season, anyway. Maybe she’d make it back to the post office by Spring.
Who was this for? She flipped to the name and address. Adele. “Well, Adele,” she thumbed to a page with a fluffy, pale orange and gray cat adorned with ornament necklaces, “I think you’re really gonna love this issue.”
Beep.
Finally, traffic started moving, and she tossed the magazine onto the dash as she pressed the gas. A resubscription slip fell out of the magazine onto the dash, which she quickly slid back in. Belle could barely focus with all the extra decorations. The litter of trees and lights, banners, and blowups; her eyes flickered across the city.
Someone laid on their horn, and Belle slammed on her brakes and jerked the mail truck back into her own lane. She gritted her teeth as packages tumbled behind her. Her shoulders slumped. All the time she’d taken to set up the stacks was wasted, and she was pretty sure something broke. She leaned her head on the headrest and filled the truck with a groan. She hadn’t used straps because she had never needed them before, and it felt like wasted time.
Traffic stalled again. She scooped up the packages, setting them back in order, and slid a few small ones out from under the seat. Was that everything?
The guy behind her beat his horn. She cursed and ran back to her seat. “Oh-kay, sorry!” Once this shift was over, she’d finally be on Christmas break. She’d just have to get outta there before people started complaining about broken packages.
⸺
Belle whipped into the post office parking lot, and something slid out from under her seat as she parked. “You’re joking. You’re really joking right now.” She pried her eyes from the little white post office and tucked her head between her legs to see underneath.
Squinting through the dark, she slapped her hand on a bubble mailer. It felt like an inch-thick box was inside. The headrest pressed hard into her skull as she stared at the cold, aluminum roof. Maybe it could wait. What’s the worst that could happen? They’d just get a gift a few days later, so what?
She raced up the wooden steps past the blue box, then flung the post office door open and shivered at the blast of air. Jack stood clicking the mouse behind the counter, his pale face lit by the computer screen. Belle set the package on the counter.
“What’s that?” He asked without ever looking at her.
She snagged the log of undelivered packages from the drawer and dropped her satchel on the bench under the hooks. “Something I forgot. It slid under my seat and didn’t come out until I pulled up.”
“Likely story. So… are you about to deliver it?”
“Do I have to?” The pen sagged in her hand. “I’m supposed to be on break now.”
“Uh, yeah, you do. Start break once you’re done.” His lips tightened into a smile. Had he no compassion?
She scowled and checked the package’s address. “It’s all the way in Faithbridge! This isn’t even my route!”
“Oh.” He clicked a few more times. “Now it is.”
Her jaw dropped, and he finally looked at her for the first time. “It’s the holidays. There’s a high package volume, and they’re understaffed. You can deliver it, then go on your break.”
“I don’t even know how to get there!”
He raised his eyebrows. “GPS.”
Belle groaned. “That thing hates me.”
He shrugged a shoulder.
“But… Christmas!” Thoughts of tanning in the sand and soaking up the hot tub filled her mind.
He shook his head. “Double-check. You always double-check before you come back.”
“What do you mean, break?” Ms. Wallace called from the back office. Belle groaned, hoping she wasn’t here.
Ms. Wallace had always prided herself on not taking breaks. But little did she know that caused her to go into a mental breakdown, taking her from lead carrier to postmaster. Drove the truck straight through the back door.
She claimed she fell asleep due to the overtime, but Jack didn’t believe it. He had said, “That woman stays wired on caffeine and cigarettes; there’s no way she fell asleep.”
Now the skeleton stood at the entrance to the hall with her hand on her hip. The woman was still caught in the 80s with blond, fluffy hair just past her shoulders, and a multicolored windbreaker puffed around her.
“Who’s going on break?” Her smoker’s voice grated on Belle’s ears.
Jack gestured with his head toward Belle.
“Why?” Her gaze pierced.
Belle hadn’t wanted to say why, so she settled with, “It’s Christmas. I have… family stuff.”
Ms. Wallace sneered and used her entire upper body to harrumph. Then the phone rang, echoing through the old building with horrible acoustics.
“What is it?” Ms. Wallace answered, and Belle cringed. “I told you yesterday. If you were listening,” her tone grew louder. “This is the third time this month! I don’t care what damned holiday it is, fix it now!” she screamed, and Belle pitied the poor soul who decided to call on Wallace’s workday.
“Are you going to talk to her about screaming at our workers again?” Belle asked Jack.
He spoke on a long exhale, “No. She just screamed at me last time.”
“Great. It’s no wonder we’re rated so low. And look, there’s got to be something we can do about this package. If I don’t get this break, I’m gonna end up just like Ms. Wallace.” A shiver ran up her spine as Wallace’s croaks bounced off the walls.
An evil grin grew across Jack’s face as he stared at the screen.
“What are you doing, anyway?” Belle peeked around.
“Solitaire.”
Her jaw shifted. “I’m staying clocked in.” And she grabbed the mailer.
“Hey!” he called as she reached the door. “If that package isn’t there by Christmas morning, you’re not getting a break,” he said nonchalantly, but he meant it. She was not going to miss out on this break. Especially not after what happened with Cole. She needed this.
She grabbed her packed bag and slid the tickets into her pocket.
Trudging back to the truck, she rolled her eyes at the Cat Fancy magazine she hadn’t delivered either. “Sorry, Adele. This is gonna be a long ride.”
⸺
“Come on, come on!” Belle pounded the numbers into her cell phone as she sped away in the postal truck. Maybe the East Gate post office could take it if she got there before they closed. They were the next closest city to Faithbridge.
The line rang a few times as she sped down icy roads, weaving through traffic. There weren’t many packages for her to worry about now.
She hated going to that side of town. There were always people asking her for money. They’d be even more vicious now since it was the holidays and people were just itching to empty their wallets.
“Hi! You’ve reached the East Gate Post Office. We are now closed for the holidays. Please leave a mes—”
She groaned, squeezing END a few times and floored the pedal. She skimmed her phone contacts before she found the distribution center’s number. It rang endlessly. At least no voicemail. Maybe they were still busy. She jammed the phone back into her pocket, her eyes darting from the road to the clock. 4:45 was cutting it close.
She grabbed the coffee left over from her shift and lifted it to her lips when the car in front hit its brakes as herds of people crossed the crosswalk. She screamed, slammed on the brakes, and her coffee cup flew into the radio, blasting Christmas Carols through the mail truck. With one hand jerking the wheel, she chucked the wet coffee cup back into the cupholder.
“This is why I hate this stupid holiday!” She slapped her hands on the wheel.
“Yeah, Merry Christmas to you, too!” Some guy crossing the road shook a fist at her, and she froze. She hadn’t realized anyone could hear her through the windows.
She wove through traffic as the original version of “Sleigh Ride” filled the truck. If this was what they called a wonderland of snow, she wanted nothing to do with it.
Blurred white trees zoomed by, and skyscrapers became non-existent as she drove closer to East Gate. The area turned into tiny town squares, with thin roads (which she always hated in this truck) and small strip centers. The only good thing about this place was that there wasn’t a mall in sight.
She swerved into the distribution center, cutting spaces right in front of the door. Parking didn’t matter right now.
Package in hand, she yanked the handle, which pulled slightly before catching on the lock.
“No, no, no!” She slapped the door. “Come on.” The door didn’t budge. She slid down with a groan that sounded like an angry cat.
“Tough break,” some kid said.
“You don’t even know the half of it,” Belle grumbled. But as she glanced around, people walked the icy streets without looking at her, and a dark lot sat on her other side.
“Up here,” the voice said again, small but confident. A little girl sat on the short part of the roof. Belle squinted and lifted her hand to cover her eyes from the sun’s glow that silhouetted the girl.
She hopped off the roof, bouncing her peachy blond hair that stuck out in all directions, and her boxy, white, polka-dotted dress.
“What were you doing up there?”
She bobbed her head. “It’s the only place you can see Christmas lights around here.” Belle stared at her city on the horizon.
That was about right. East Bridge had been dead as far as Christmas stuff.
“Where you goin’?” the girl hopped on her toes.
“Uh… Faithbridge.” Belle walked away.
“Oh! I know where that is!”
Belle’s eyes widened, and she turned back. But she must have been just saying that.
“Where?” Belle asked suspiciously.
“It’s by the big church just past the McDonald’s.”
Belle had no idea what the girl referred to, but it sounded pretty convincing.
The girl laughed. “Can I come? I’ll show you.”
“What?!” Belle said. “You can’t leave with me. Where are your parents?”
She looked down, and her wild hair covered her face. “I’m fostered.”
“Okay, so where are they?” Belle checked the small groups of people passing.
“They’re… at the house. But I don’t wanna go back there. I’m trying to enjoy Christmas without them.”
Belle raised her eyebrows. “Either way, I can’t just take some kid on the run. If we get caught, they’ll think I kidnapped you or something. I’ll go to jail. You get that, right?”
“No! I can get you there really fast, and then you can just drop me back off, and no one will know.”
Belle squeezed her chin. Was she really considering this? Her flight would leave tomorrow. If she got lost or stuck somewhere, there was no telling if she’d make it back in time.
“How fast?”
“With my shortcut, we can be there and back in a few hours.”
“A few hours? Doesn’t sound like much of a shortcut.”
“Have you seen the traffic? It’ll take you double the usual time to get there and back.”
Belle crossed her arms. “And no one will miss you, huh?”
Grace looked down. “There’s… a lot of us there. And they usually just send us all up to bed. They don’t check on us. I doubt they even know my name,” she mumbled the last part, and Belle felt like the wind got knocked out of her.
Taking a good shortcut would mean she could drop off the truck and start her break fresh by tomorrow morning.
“You always stay out late like this?”
“I’ve stayed out all night before. Just to look at the stars.” She shrugged.
Belle groaned and rubbed her forehead, sliding her hand under her beanie. Was she really planning on borrowing this kid as a guide?
And it wouldn’t be easy. Kids were loud and always getting into trouble. Speaking of trouble, she hadn’t planned on going to jail for Christmas. This was turning out to be a big mess, and she didn’t want anything to do with it.
“Look, kid, I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m just going to have to make it on my own.”
The girl gave her a one-sided smile. “Your loss.”
Belle got back into the truck, and the door seemed to hit harder than usual. How hard could it be to get to Faithbridge? She wasn’t new to this. Just follow the signs, right? And she always had the GPS just in case. It just… didn’t work the greatest and made her mad more than anything.
She scoffed and cranked the heat. That kid must have been freezing. But she’d gotten back on the roof, facing the lights.
There wasn’t any reason to feel sorry for her. She had a home. She chose to be here.
Belle turned down the main road leading to the highway.
Maybe she could call Cole if she got lost, and he could talk her through it. Guilt ran through her. She knew what her subconscious was doing. Cole wasn’t an option.
All she had to do was follow the signs. Easy. Belle squinted to read the first sign. It was covered in graffiti and weathered. Her heart picked up speed. These roads were unforgiving. If she missed an exit, it could be forever before the next one came up.
She calmed and focused her eyes on the next sign. Sloan. What the heck was that? She’d never even heard of it. But she hadn’t come toward East Bridge in years. She probably wasn’t even close enough to see any exit signs for Faithbridge yet. Especially with that girl saying it’d take them a few hours with her shortcut.
She plugged the GPS into the cigarette lighter, which had burned brown from Wallace’s use. Every second that ticked by felt like forever as she waited for it to boot up. She pressed “Where to?” searched Faithbridge, and she was on her way.
She took the first exit it showed her, and right away she was pretty sure it wasn’t right. She checked again, making sure it said Faithbridge, and swerved. It required way too much attention.
She kept following it until her skin itched with frustration. She took the next turn and—
“Recalculating,” the robot voice always seemed to repeat. The new path showed up on the dumb thing, and Belle turned. Did it get darker when she turned down here? She bent to look at the sky: partly cloudy.
Looking back at the road, she pumped the brakes as a man stood in the middle with a sign. “GOD BLESS.” Was that supposed to guilt her into giving? That wasn’t how this worked.
More people with signs emerged from the darkest shadows of the streets. Like Christmas zombies.
“Turn Here.” The GPS made her jump. Maybe this road led to the highway? More people swarmed her car, and a bell rang at the pace of footsteps. A man dressed as Santa for some charity stared at her from outside the store. He straightened and slowly lifted a hand to point at her.
What the hell? She glared at the GPS. This thing had to be possessed, and it was trying to get her killed.
“Recalcu—”
Belle yanked it out and let the cord dangle, but she was sure it was about to wrap itself around her neck.
She was not driving through here anymore. Shifting into reverse, someone pounded on her window. She screamed as a man lifted a red bucket in one hand and banged a bell in the other. His muffled voice came through the window, “Spare for those in need?”
Belle slammed the pedal, still screaming, and whipped the truck around. She didn’t care if it was illegal. She had to get out of there like yesterday.
Not long, and there she was, back in the distribution center parking lot. The kid stared at the lights, but she had a feeling the girl knew she’d be back.
“I’ll guide you, but on one condition.”
“Anything.” Belle’s desperation had kicked in now.
The girl stood and wiped a strand of hair from her face. “Take me to see Santa at the mall.”
“Santa? Aren’t you a little old for that?”
“Absolutely not. You’re never too old for magic.”
“Is that what you call him?”
She breathed quickly through her nose and squeezed her lips together. “Do you want me to help you or not?”
Belle sighed. “Fine. Hop in. You like cats?”
⸺
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