Merry Christmas to all who are celebrating today. Welcome to those who are celebrating Hannakuh and thanks for stopping by to any who do. There’s no regular Wednesday Words. Instead, I had a burst of semi-creativity to carry on a yearly tradition of mine–a (hopefully) amusing Christmas story set in my Moonstruck world that is a short peek at some of the characters. One of these days I’ll get organized and set up a page with links to all of them. Just not today. Or actually, last night because I’m setting this up about 8:30 p.m. Nothing like waiting ’til the last minute, right?

Anyway, this is a short story staring Hannah Jackson McIntire, former Army officer, mate to Command Sergeant Major Ian “Mac” McIntire and mom to Liam. There are references to events from CHRISTMAS MOON so if you haven’t read it, this might be incentive to do so. That, however, is not the reason I wrote this story but it might be a perk I didn’t consider. Anyway, I hope you’ll find a quiet time to take a break in your festivities and will read it and enjoy.

Don’t Trifle With Christmas

Hannah stood at the window watching what had become a yearly tradition. Too bad she hadn’t used that “Christmas Vacation” disc for target practice. The Wolves—and now the rest of the manly men—and their kids—in Blaidd’s Gap were determined to create Christmas light displays that could be seen from outer space.

After that first Christmas when the Wolves had blown every electrical circuit in town, the city council voted to upgrade all the utilities. No more black outs and they were the only small town in West Virginia with a power plant that could probably light up every city and town in the state.

She ignored the buzz of conversation coming from her kitchen. The mates were gathered around her kitchen island drinking Irish coffee and planning out the big community Christmas party held each year. She’d seen the list. Mac was down for a couple of smoked briskets and even Liam had been drafted to make his brownies. It was Hannah’s job to provide paper plates and napkins.

Yeah, yeah. Her cooking was a big joke and had only gotten bigger as time went by. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook, it was that she was easily distracted. Reading recipes was boring so she’’d misread them. Or leave out ingredients. Or get in a hurry and turn up the oven to make stuff cook faster. Or she’d totally forget that there was anything on the stove or in the oven until it was too late.

Mac never complained. He just taught himself how to cook for Liam and himself. Once they’d settled here in the mountains, he discovered the joy of grilling and smoking and yeah, like every other freaking thing the man did, he mastered it immediately. The guy was a muddereffing savant. About everything.

The gab fest in the kitchen wound down and stools scrapped against the wood floor. Moments later, the mates came into the living room and joined Hannah at the window.

“Think it’s safe to go home yet?” Annie asked.

“Nate texted me five minutes ago to say a group of them were loading up to go over mountain to the Tractor Supply,” Jacey said.

“And maybe Lowe’s.” Liz held up her phone. “I can’t believe Lightfoot is going too.”

Everyone laughed, including Hannah. “Are you serious? He’s as competitive about the whole light display thing as the rest of them.”

“Are they taking the kids?”

Annie’s thumbs flew over her phone’s keyboard. A moment later, she sighed. “Nope.”

With laughter and called goodbyes, the hen party, as the men would call their gathering, broke up as the mates went in search of their young. Liam loped up on the porch and Hannah fought the urge to brush the unruly lock of hair off his forehead.

“You got anything I need to do, Mom?”

She shook her head.

“I’m gonna shift and go for a run then.” He ducked around her and headed inside.

Hannah sighed. He was growing up so fast and now he wasn’t asking permission, he was just stating his plans. Just like his father. She wandered back into the kitchen and noticed the list Annie had dutifully made. Everyone had their specialty and they were listed. Hell, everyone in town had their specialty—the women anyway. And yeah, some of the men. Even DJ, the former US Marshal, made a mean cheese ball that was all kinds of good eating with a variety of crackers. She peered at the entry next to her name: Paper plates and napkins.

Resisting the urge to snatch up the list, crumple it into a ball and toss it in the trash. She had no clue yhy this whole “Hannah can’t cook” thing was getting to her this year.

A whine alerted her. She ruffled Liam’s ears and opened the back door so he could head up the mountain for his run. Her son was a beautiful wolf, just like Mac. Rather than stew in her own juices, she headed up to the attic. She’d drag down the inside decorations and get started. Maybe ornaments on the tree and other decor would alleviate her melancholy. She had nothing against Christmas. In fact, it was probably her favorite holiday, except maybe for Halloween. There was just something about all those Wolves out there escorting Little Red Riding Hoods and the Three Little Pigs around Blaidd’s Gap.

Up in the attic, she shifting boxes and started making a cache of the ones labeled “Christmas.” During her search, she found a box she didn’t remember. Dragging it out under the overhead light, she read the label: RV. They hadn’t lived in the RV in years. Why had she never unpacked this box when they finally settled in here? Curious, she pulled out the folding knife she always carried and cut the tape.

She found folding maps—none of which were folding into their original condition. She found a hummingbird suncatcher that had hung in the window over the RV’s sink—a long-ago birthday gift from Liam. Once again, she wondered why she’d never unpacked this box. Then she found the wrapped package. Glossy red paper. Cheerful red and green plaid ribbon formed a squashed bow. The tag on it spelled out her name.

Staring, she considered, well beyond that whole curiousity and cat thing because she didn’t recognize the writing and didn’t recall ever seeing this package before. To be honest, she was like a kid when it came to presents. On the inside. She’d never admit that to anyone because…well…she was Hannah Jackson McIntire. She had a reputation, after all.

Five minutes. She stared at the box for five minutes. Then she picked it up. And shook it. It didn’t rattle and had some weight but wasn’t heavy. For once, she took care with the unwrapping. Hannah gasped when she saw what was nestled in scads of glittery tissue paper. With care, she withdrew an exquisite glass bowl on a pedestal. A wolf’s head was etched into the glass. An envelope of creamy ivory lay in the bottom of the bowl.

With extreme care, Hannah returned it to the paper nest and withdrew the envelope. Her name was enscribed in elegant cursive on its face. Inside the envelope was a folded note with an embossed K. Hannah opened the note and read:

Dear Hannah,
Every good military wife should have a trifle bowl. The time will come when you will need this. Here’s the recipe.
Love,
Nona

Nona Klausen. Hannah hadn’t thought of her or the general in years. That had been a crazy Christmas in New Mexico. And that was the Christmas when Hannah started to believe again—in magic, in people, in unconditional love. How odd that she would find this long ago present that somehow got lost in the shuffle of that hectic time.

Determined, she carried the box, still holding the bowl, downstairs and set it on the kitchen island. She read the recipe. And decided she could do this.

***

The day of the community dinner and party found Hannah determined. She banned Mac and Liam from the house, turned off the phones, locked the doors, and was ready. She’d already shopped—secretly—for the ingredients needed to make the Christmas Trifle. She was determined—so much so that she even bought a kitchen timer and removed all distractions.

She read and reread the directions of each step. She followed them dilitgently, double-checking as she went. And in the end, she had the red velvet cake, the green pudding, and the whipped cream. With care, she built each layer of the trifle in the beautiful bowl. When she was done, she sank down on a kitchen stool and heaved out a breath. She’d done it. When it was time to head to the dinner, she would decorated the top with whimsical gingerbread cookies. Store bought. She wasn’t about to push her luck. It remained to be seen if the thing was edible. She’d rearranged the items in the refrigerator so she could hide the dessert in the back.

Hannah smuggled the trifle into the fire station by stacking the paper plates and napkins around it in a big box. When no one was looking, she placed it on the dessert table then scurried off so no one would notice.

The entire town came. There was music and games. Dancing and lots of eating. Nervously, Hannah watched the dessert table. No one had touched her trifle. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she ducked outside. She wanted to cry but she was Hannah Jackson McIntire. And Hannah Jackson McIntire did not cry.

She was aware of Mac before his hands slid around her from behind. “What’cha doin’ out here, babe?”

She shrugged but didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Damn lump in her throat.

He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “The party’s winding down and we’re not on clean up. Let’s go home.”

She nodded. “Yeah, okay.” She didn’t bother to go inside to get her bowl. She was no longer a military wife and the wife of a sheriff in a small West Virginia county didn’t need a fancy trifle bowl, especially when she couldn’t cook. That was fine. She was really good at other things, like wrangling cats and keeping people safe.

When they walked into their house, everyone was there in the living room. Lightfoot and Liz with Micah. Sean and Annie with Cody and ?. Nate and Jacey with Joy and Grace. Harjo and Amy. Rudy and Izzy. Antoine and DJ. Liam stood there with a wide grin—holding the trifle bowl.

Hannah turned to run but Mac was ready for her and grabbed her. He whispered in her ear.“Soothe, babe. The Hannah I know and love never runs.”

“I’ll serve,” Liam announced, and proceeded to do so.

Once everyone had a dish and a spoon, Mac ordered, “Dig in.” And they did.

Inwardly cringing, Hannah did not take a bite and then she heard it. The mmMMmms. The gasps. A surprised, “This is awesome!” And the scrap of spoons on pottery.

“You’ve been holding out on us,” Jacey accused, though her voice held a teasing tone.

“I told you so,” Izzy said. “She’s smart. If no one thinks she can cook, then she gets out of all the work. Smart woman.”

Hannah stared at Mac. “How did you know?”

“I’m a Wolf. You’re scent was all over the kitchen.”

Liam added around the bite he’d just taken,“Along with the cake that you baked.”

“And we found the note.”

She glared at her husband then glared at her son when he said, “And we found it in the back of the fridge.”

“You let me think no one would eat it.” There was accusation in her voice but also hurt.

Father and son glanced at each other and she could tell from their identical expressions that neither had thought of that. Simultanously, they said, “No. We told people it was special and just for us when we got home.”

Liz cleared her throat. “Where’d you find the trifle bowl, Hannah?”

“Yeah,” Annie agreed. “It’s beautiful.”

“In the attic.”

Everyone stared at her. Hannah blinked. “What? I was getting the Christmas decorations out, found a box from way back and opened it. There was a present in there with my name on it. It was the bowl and the note from Nona.”

The women gave her big eyes. Micah nodded his head sagely. “Missus Santa. She musta sent that to you special to have before Christmas.”

“Huh,” Sean said. “Was there a black cane leaning up in a corner too?”

Annie rolled her eyes. “I made him watch Miracle on 34th Street with me.”

“What box, Hannah?” Mac looked very poker-faced.

She shrugged. “It was just a cardboard box marked RV.”

“RV?”

“Yeah. I figured it was stuff we’d thrown in there from the RV and—”

“What stuff, Hannah?” There was an urgent tone in Mac’s voice now.

“That hummingbird suncatcher Liam gave me. A bunch of old paper road maps, much worse for the wear. Some other stuff like that.”

The men all exchanged looks now. Harjo hummed the theme from “The Twilight Zone.”

Mac rubbed his forehead. “We didn’t pack anything like that and the suncatcher was missing long before.”

“Maybe the General really is Santa Claus,” Sean muttered.

That’s when they heard sleigh bells outside and a cheery voice proclaiming, “Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night! And the trifle was delicious. Leave the bowl out for me on Christmas Eve. I’ll be back.”

And yes, those last three words were said in Arnold Schwarzenegger’s voice.

If you are interested in Hannah’s trifle recipe, I featured it on Tuesday Treats and Titles last week. Here’s the LINK. Also, this is literally a first draft so please ignore any typos, mispellings or lapses in memory. Thanks!

Wishing all of you and yours all the peace and joy of the season! 🎅🏼🎄