Last Christmas - 1. Chapter 1

Last Christmas

Frank pulled his hat down low over his ears, slipped on his gloves, and made his way out into the cold autumn wind. The wind had picked up the leaves and swirled them into flowing masses of slick brown, orange, and red waves that eventually began to stick together as the freezing November rain came pouring down.

He moved slowly, his limp barely visible as he climbed into his battered old truck and started the engine. He sat, letting the truck engine warm up before he turned the heat on, eased out of his driveway, and into the roadway. The silence of the cab was punctuated by the slap, slap, slap of the windshield wipers and the hiss of his car’s heater. Here the roads were empty, but he knew it wouldn’t be long til the roads were packed, as people would be rushing out to get to early Black Friday sales. As Frank pulled up to the traffic light at his corner, he noticed the house on his left had already decorated for Christmas with colored lights and yard figures.

“Damn idiots are just going to have a huge electric bill for all that,” he mumbled, as he waited for the light to turn green, and moved on into the main drag that would bring him to work.

The last year had changed a lot of things in his life and Frank just wanted to work in his shop, do his work, and be forgotten. Just ahead he spied the entrance to the parking lot behind his business. He signaled, turned, and was surprised to see the large lot was nearly full. He found a parking spot in the back corner, locked his truck up, and made his way slowly to the store. He knew he wouldn’t have a huge rush of people, but he hoped to draw a few in with his stuff. The idea of running a store where everything was handmade was rare and hard to do anymore.

Frank made it to the back of the store and opened the door. The building was cold but he knew between the kiln and the lights the place would soon be toasty warm. He had a bunch of new plates ready to go, glazes done, and a pitcher as well. Now he would sit and carve some new pieces out of wood. He had already carved two new crèches and a chess set. He hoped people would enjoy his take on the world of magic as he had created a chess board of good and evil, elves and ogres, castles and decrepit keeps, unicorns and Minotaurs. The stains and paints had done a lot to make the figures look spectacular.

He hadn’t really been in the Christmas mood at all for about a year now. His parents’ health had taken a turn for the worst at the beginning of last year and he had lost them within weeks of each other. The pain of having to go through all their things, selling off the house, and settling the estate nearly killed him. He had been so grateful to have Nick to lean on. Of course, shortly after the last of the funerals, his brother, Nick, who had been in the Army for fifteen years, came home on leave to spend time with his wife and kids, only to be shot and killed by some twelve year old kid who wanted to get into a gang. His death was almost a fatal blow to Frank. He cried for days, barely able to stand it. His sister-in-law, Amanda, had fallen apart initially, but her desire to do right by her children forced her to pull herself together. That was great for the kids; however, it meant she took a job that removed what little family he had left in his life and transferred them across the country. By June, his world had changed forever, stripping away those he had loved most leaving him with only Peter to count on. Then, of course, there was his accident.

Frank was used to being an active man. He ran four miles every day, went to lift weights twice a week, and ate as healthy as he could. He was fit, trim, with muscles to spare, and knew how to help others get into shape. When you’re still fairly young and looking good, you don’t plan for problems. In fact, at the time he was hurt, he was in the process of training for a triathlon. Besides, who expects to get hit by a kid on a skateboard and knocked down an incline into rocks, trees, and bushes? Things might have been okay if he had just kept rolling, but his luck wasn’t that great. He had broken his leg in three spots, and then he lived in a cast for what felt like forever. The main issue was he didn’t have a neat break. His leg had gotten caught and the leg twisted, so the bones splintered and cracked. They thought they had fixed his leg, only to discover the bones didn’t heal right, and he had to go through having it broken again and reset. Things might have been okay if he hadn’t come down with what felt like a dozen other issues like high blood pressure, diabetes, and the sudden need for glasses, plus the news that his leg would never support the torment he was used to putting his body through. The cast came off eventually; unfortunately, the cane he had carved as part of his therapy had now became a permanent part of his wardrobe. So his job as a physical trainer was ended prematurely and left him at loss of what to do now.

The cane had actually done a lot for him. He had learned wood-working in school and his grandfather had shown him how to build things as well. His grandfather had been a furniture maker, had owned his own shop, and when he passed, had left everything to Frank. Being unable to go running or do much walking, he found he began to sit around and carve. At first, he started small, whittling the cane, and as the skills slowly came back, he began working on carving figures. It was slow and tedious work, but it kept him busy since he couldn’t go running every day. It wasn’t long till he was able to carve birds and figures, but soon he was looking for a new challenge. He didn’t expect to get an idea of what it would be from having coffee with his best friend from college. However, that is what happened when Catherine invited herself over for a coffee a month into his recovery.

“Look Frank, why not work in leather? You can design belts, key chains, and all sorts of stuff.”

Frank looked into Catherine’s face and frowned.

“Don’t like leather.”

Catherine sighed. “You mean because Peter used to like all sorts of leather stuff.”

Frank would have stalked away from her, but his cane was out of reach, so he went to stand as she stepped in front of him.

“Alright, forget leather. What about clay?”

“What about it?”

She leaned back against the counter and picked up her coffee mug.

“Well, for starters, I made this. I took the pottery classes at the local college. I mean you do know where that is, right? You already enjoy sketching and carving in wood. Consider this another medium. Take a few classes and learn about it. You might just enjoy it.”

Frank had wanted to argue with her, but figured it would be easier to just humor her. He never expected to enjoy it as much as he did. Some things he found he took enormous pleasure in. The molds for plates, bowls, and mugs were great starters for him. He found it took him a long time to become used to working with a potter’s wheel. He was so used to using his right foot for driving that he figured it would be easy to use the control pad with his foot. Naturally that didn’t work because his leg never healed correctly so he was forced to learn to use the left foot instead, and it took a while to get the speed correct for the wheel. In fact it took him months to get it everything the way he wanted, but soon he was able to make the clay change into anything he wanted.

Clay became a medium he enjoyed, but he found his heart still lay in wood. However, there were things he could create by combining the two that really drew the attention of people, like the hand crafted picnic basket with matching plates and cups. The basket was carved out of oak and stained a light red color, the edge was done in a deep brown. The plates and cups he created to go with it were also a bright red with a dark brown edge. People seemed to take notice and he soon had dozens of orders for them during the summer. Soon he was cranking out all sorts of stuff, and when the lady who had been running a small pottery store a few towns over decided to close, he borrowed some money and bought her kiln. Since he couldn’t go back to being a personal trainer, it seemed that opening his own store would be the next logical step.

His store displayed a variety of items, both ceramic and wooden. Now that it was getting to be the holidays, his business had been fairly steady. He had had two orders for a place setting of eight based off one of his designs, an order for a carved set of lovebirds to go into a wreath, and an order for a set of five carved wooden soldiers. He was hoping to get more orders, and had created a catalogue of his work, and listed the prices for some special orders as well.

Frank had turned on his open sign, turned on the lights, and then sat down behind the counter where he had a desk where he could work as well. He was sketching out a new design for a mother and child figure when the bell over the door tinkled, announcing a customer.

“Be right with you.” Frank reached for his cane and carefully maneuvered himself out of his chair. When he looked over the counter at the customer he froze for a minute.

The first thing he noticed was the fiery red hair that curled into little ringlets all over the man’s head. While the dark wool jacket was a simple deep green it stopped short of hiding his rounded butt and massive legs. The guy was presently bent over examining his chess board. Pulling himself back together, he slowly made his way over.

“I see you found my chess set. Do you play?”

“Oh,” came a deep baritone that rattled Frank in places he thought he wouldn’t ever worry about again.

“Oh? That’s not much of an answer.”

The gentleman blushed, making his pale skin glow. Frank couldn’t help but stare into the emerald green eyes that were surrounded by some of the palest skin he had ever seen.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen such attention to detail in a while. You really do nice work. That is something I’m sure my father would appreciate greatly.”

“Your father?”

The young man blushed an even deeper shade of red. Frank tried to put back on his normal gruff face, but was finding it harder and harder to do.

“Um, yeah. He used to do a lot of work with wood and was quite the artisan. Lately, however, he has had to cut back on what used to be one of his major accomplishments. He spends more time lately in meetings, rather than working in wood.”

“Well I found my way into woodworking. My grandfather used to create furniture, and I ended up with his tools.” Frank smiled.

The younger man paused, and lifted up one of the unicorns and studied it for a moment. “Your technique is really unique. Do you find yourself working more with hard or soft woods?”

“I guess it depends on what I am trying to create. A lot the ideas I use are things I think my niece or nephew would like. I figure if I could please them, I could please anyone.”

Frank found himself spilling things he never discussed, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. It had been a long time since he had felt the desire to explain his life to anyone. Since his family was gone, and Catherine had gotten married, his social circle wasn’t much. However, there was something about this red headed guy that just made him want to get the man to stay longer.

“So, your father is another artisan, huh?” Frank asked in a vain attempt to keep the man talking.

“Sort of. Dad and even my grandfather were master craftsmen. My brothers and I have found ourselves doing more work with various technologies and companies than doing things by hand. We all have an appreciation for handmade crafts, though.”

Frank found himself smiling. The younger man carefully set the unicorn down and then turned his full attention back to Frank.

“Well, I know the stuff I make can take a while, but it is all hand made from scratch. Besides, everyone always enjoys the final product.” Frank found his hands sweating and tried to discreetly wipe them off on his pants.

The red head stuck his hand out. “I’m sorry. My name is Chris.”

“Frank.”

“Nice to meet you, sir. You really are a craftsman.”

“Well,” before Frank could say another word the door bell tinkled as a family walked in.

“You should check on your new customers. I want to go through your order book.”

Frank nodded, showed Chris the book, and walked over to greet his new customers. He noted there were three of them, an older woman with what he could only assume were her grandchildren. There was something in all their faces that marked them as family. Frank watched a moment as the three moved into his shop. The older woman looked slightly exhausted and seemed to lean against the doorway, the teenaged girl seemed drawn to something in the window and moved over there immediately, while the younger boy looked like he was bored to Frank, barely looking at the various items that were around the store. Just as he was about to say his hello to them, the boy stomped back to his grandmother’s side.

“There’s nothing in here I want, Grandma. Come on, the video game store is down the street.” The young boy’s voice rose in volume as only a child about to whine can, reaching the pitch that made Frank grateful to still be single.

Frank noted the young boy tugging on his grandmother’s sleeve. She seemed worn out, but just shook her head as she looked toward her granddaughter. “Lisa wanted to look at that piece by the window, Josh. You will have the time at your store; give her a minute to look at the stuff in here.”

Josh crossed his arms and stared angrily down at the small ark and animals on display.

Lisa had carefully been inspecting the small wooden trinket box Frank had carved to look like a rose. It was made similar to one his mother had kept her jewelry in. Knowing how much she had always loved it, Frank had found himself making various forms of it, almost subconsciously.

“Can I ask how much it is?” Lisa asked as she pointed to the rose box.

Frank usually charged forty five dollars for it, but looking at Lisa, her grandmother, and her brother, he figured they probably couldn’t afford it. Normally, he just stated the price and that was it, but something about her made him consider that this box might mean a lot to her.

“Do you like it?”

Lisa blushed and nodded.

“I thought so. Thinking of it as a gift for yourself?”

“No,” came her soft reply. “I was hoping to get it for my mother.”

Her comment drew a soft gasp from her grandmother and a dirty look from her brother.

Frank realized something was going on, but felt it wasn’t his place to comment. He was about to give a price when he noticed that Chris was watching the whole thing as well.

“Roses were always Mom’s favorite. She has been sick and,” Lisa looked up; her eyes were full of unshed tears, “in a coma. I think she would like this.” Lisa turned to her Grandmother, “I’ll take my money now, please.”

A tear rolled down her grandmother’s face as she passed Lisa an envelope.

Frank felt his heart break, but turned and walked over to the counter. He found a cardboard box that the trinket box would fit into. Lisa came out and began counting out money. When she reached thirty two, he could see there wasn’t much left in the envelope. He simply reached over and rang up the box for twenty eight.

Lisa looked up surprised.

“Good eye you have. It was on sale for Christmas.”

Frank took the money, placed the box into a bag and watched them leave.

“That was sweet of you.”

Frank looked up surprised. He had forgotten Chris was there. “Sorry.” Frank wasn’t about to let it get around he was a soft touch. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Chris smiled and flipped another page in the book and then stopped.

“Do you actually craft all the things you have in your book?”

“Yes. I can make any of the things you see. I can also make small alterations if need be. Why do you ask?”

“I want you to make me something I found here in your book. Would you be able to make sure it was completed by the twenty-third of December?”

“Depends on what it is you want.” Frank carefully made his way over and looked at what Chris wanted ordered. It wasn’t something over complex but it would take time. “Do you want it in plain wood, stained, or painted?”

“I think either stained or painted, but I leave that to you. You would know what would look best.”

Frank couldn’t help but look up into Chris’ face and see the same sweet smile in place.

“Alright, I can do that.”

Frank went and drew up the work order and the completion date. If nothing else he would end up with Chris’ address and phone number.

While Chris filled out the paper work, Frank couldn’t help but take another chance to scope out Chris’s figure. He wasn’t sure what it was about this guy, but he knew he wasn’t going to waste the chance to memorize this hunk for later. Unfortunately, a moment later, the bell rang announcing another set of customers, and soon his little shop was full and busy.