It’s December at our bed-and-breakfast. Tavern Without The Beer. Yes, that’s the name. We’d become a minor tourist attraction. Mom’s dad owned the place, and she loved it here so much that she never left. Ski slopes rested miles in either direction. I finished painting fake snow on the windows. I erected a holiday tree with decorations and draped silver and gold around it with a gold star on top. Mom looped her arms around her waist and surveyed my work. Her eyes crinkled before a grin set in. She massaged my shoulder and moved in for a hug.
Happiness—not a smile, but genuine happiness—was something I thought I’d all but lost when we closed my father’s coffin on an autumn afternoon. That day, a breeze withdrew the warmth of my plans. And gold and red leaves crunched beneath my feet to the beat of an indistinguishable song, playing suffocating lyrics. Five years ago, we buried my old man. I paused my dreams to help Mom run this place. Near Mount Rainer, our share of visitors passed through, even if only to check a bed-and-breakfast off their bucket list.
Often, people brought more bags of what they wanted and less of what they needed. The other night, a woman gripped the rail and stomped the stairs. She demanded a double-AA battery for an erotic product. Sadly or not, I couldn’t help her there. After assisting guests to check in or check out, I’d smoke a menthol cigarette, hoping, unlike my father, it wouldn’t be the death of me.
When patrons hit the lights for the night, I gazed as the stars applauded the sliver moon—darkness-cloaked secrecy released lacy flakes. I shifted my gaze to the rail and noticed white powder accumulate along the rail. The lobby fireplace crackled over maple wood and danced through shadows, pushing warmth through the cabin.
“God,” I sobbed, my lips quivering. “If you’re real, bring someone into my life that I can love.” I laid my head down, letting the napkins pool in my pity. The doorbell jingled as someone pushed through the entry.
The woman wore a cardigan and had long, dark hair interlaced with white flakes that spiraled to her back. I silenced the pity I rained on a slick parade.
“Can I help you?” I said, almost annoyed that she, or someone like her, hadn’t entered my life years ago.
“I don’t know, can you?” she said, moving her hair from her eyes.
My eyes shot wide. “Sarah?”
“In the flesh,” she said.
I met Sarah at my father’s funeral. Her father and my father work at the same law firm. Sarah took me for coffee. We sat on a park bench, discussing the stories our dads shared. Sarah’s eyes sparkled when she laughed. She munched on a muffin and lifted her hand to her mouth when she chuckled. She twitched like someone had tickled her when she told me her mother walked in on her watching Wrong Turn as a kid. In her Christian home, horror movies weren’t allowed. Sarah’s mother rested her hands on her hips and shook her head. She left and said nothing else.
Sarah lived in Seattle and worked at a firm of her own. Guilt raced through my veins. I suffered enough trying to be the man he’d wanted me to be. Dad wanted me to be a lawyer. I didn’t. Mom wanted me to teach kids science. I didn’t. What I wanted, I didn’t realize, is what I had.
“Think a gal can get a place to stay?” Sarah winked and bit her lower lip.
I shook my head no but said, “Yes.”
We went to her car, treading lightly over snow mixed with ice.
“The pass is closed.”
I grabbed her suitcase and guided her to the only room left at the place.
“Going to your parents’ for Christmas?”
I slid the key into the door and pushed it open.
“That was the plan,” she said, placing her palm on her head. “I’ve got a long drive tomorrow.”
I handed Sarah the key.
She moved past me and placed the suitcase in the closet. Sara approached the bed, leaned over, and ran her hand along the comforter. “So soft.” She spliced the blinds. “People are skiing!” Sarah said as though she connected the dots to a secret that only she knew.
I pointed in the general direction of the other slope. “There’s another lodge.” I paused as she stood before me. “That way.”
Sarah closed the distance between us. She lifted my palms and embraced my hands. The peace of comfort washed across me.
“You dad…”
“Yeah?”
“He talked about you,” Sarah said.
“Nothing good—I bet.”
Sarah arched a brow, and wrinkles of confusion formed along her cheeks. “He said he was so proud of you.”
“My dad?” I broke free of her grip and threw my hand to my chest.
“I always thought he hated me.” I brushed a tear away.
“He wanted you to be a better man than he was.” Sarah massaged my shoulder. “He’d show my dad and mom pictures of you guys,” Sarah said. “I was smitten.” She shrugged. “Love at first sight is a cheesy trope.” Sarah gestured. “I get it, but I can’t help my feelings.”
“Why haven’t I ever seen you before?”
“Because your dad knew you’d fall in love with me, and he didn’t want it to hurt the firm if we split.”
I laughed and rubbed my face with my hands. “That sounds like Dad.”
“But he’d be proud,” Sarah said. “Your dad. He would be proud of you.”
I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms. “I’m not so sure about that.”
Sarah reached into her jacket pocket and handed me a folded letter.
“What’s this?”
Sarah motioned with her eyes to see for me.
I unfolded a letter written in blue ink. “Mark, if you’re reading this, the cancer beat me.” I choked back a lump in my throat. “Aside from your mother, I love you more than anything. I was hard on you because I wanted you to be a better man than I was. Sure, I was successful and made a good life for you and your mother. But I was insecure, and I wanted to build the strength in you that I lacked. You’re a great kid, but an even better man. Sarah, I knew you’d fall for her, and I knew someday she’d deliver you this letter. Whatever happens, you have my blessing. I love you, kid. See you on the other side, Dad.” Emotions boiled, but I let none control me.
Sarah removed her boots and approached me. “See? He was proud of you.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Sarah spilled into my arms. “Then say nothing.”
“Merry Christmas,” I said and kissed her forehead.
“God answered my prayers,” Sarah sighed.