A Letter to the Giftmaker - Chapter 18

Jo stumbled as his foot caught on a ridge of now-frozen mud that was hidden in the darkness. He flung out his arms, wheeling them around frantically before finding his balance. With a sigh, he stood upright.

"Are you okay?" A few steps ahead, Edwin stopped.

Jo nodded. "Just tripped."

The light from the lantern was enough to see the edges of the road, but the smaller ridges we lost in the dim light that bobbed as Edwin walked.

He turned back. A dozen paces back, Harriet shuffled after them. Her form was just the faintest dark outline amongst a sea of black. Her arms were crossed and she seemed to be shaking. Maybe she was cold. Maybe she was crying.

Jo reached out a hand. He desperately wanted to fix this rift between Edwin and Harriet. Sure, she had been wrong to lie about herself. But he ought to have accepted her apology, especially when it was clear how much she meant it. Instead, Edwin had shouted and yelled. He was right to be angry, but did he have to take it out on her?

This was all so confusing. Jo held his head. Why couldn't they all just get along and be friends?

A gentle tune brushed past Jo's ear. He stopped, tilted his head, and listened. There it was again, the faint tune of a carol on the bitter wind. He spotted the orange glow from the church ahead.

Jo looked between Edwin and Harriet. If he could just get them to talk, everything would be fixed. That's what friends do. "We ought to stop and warm up at the church."

"We're running out of time," Edwin said curtly.

"Your letter won't do much good if you're frozen. Just ten minutes."

Edwin sighed. "Okay."

Jo waited for Harriet to catch up. "We're going to warm up in the church for ten minutes."

She nodded, staring off at the dirt road. She followed them up the packed down path that led up to the small church. The old stones were so dark and worn it looked more like the church was a natural feature of the small hillock it sat upon than a human-made structure.

The interior was lit only by the soft, orange glow of flickering candles. A few parishioners turned to smile at them as they entered, but no one made a fuss. There were three open chairs in the back row.

Jo hurried to the furthest chair to force them to sit next to each other. Edwin glared at him, but sat in the middle without saying anything. Harriet hesitated and her brown eyes darted to the door. After a moment, she shuffled to the back of the space and leaned against the wall.

Darn it. Jo closed his eyes and hummed along softly with the carol. He wanted to sing loudly, as he loved singing carols, but his friends needed his attention at that moment. If they would talk, this could be fixed.

He listened to the voices of the other worshipers fill the dark, warm space with sound. Deep booming voices and uncertain quavering voices and wheezing nasal voices all joined together into a velvety, dulcet mix that was much more than the sum of its parts. As the hymn ended, the last syllable hung in the air with the smoke from the candles.

The next verse began and the congregation sang the words "May all find peace and goodwill, amongst the trees or rolling hill." Next to him, Edwin straightened. He scratched at his face and glanced at Harriet. He swallowed hard.

"Jo," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"How do I fix this?"

"Fix what?" Jo had the idea that Edwin had meant Harriet, but he didn't want to force it. He was just there to offer friendly advice.

"I'm mad at Harriet, but... but I shouldn't have gotten so mad or said those mean things."

Jo nodded vigorously. "Yes, you shouldn't have."

Edwin grimaced and tugged at her collar. "Urgh, fine, you were right. But how do I fix this?"

"Apologize."

"Yes, but how? I was a jerk and now she doesn't even want to sit next to me."

"Tell her what you told me: that you're mad, but overreacted."

"Did I overreact? Because I think..." Edwin looked up at Jo, seeing the raised eyebrows. "You're right, I was mean."

Edwin stood and headed to the back of the church. Jo turned in his chair, listening to the soft conversation.

"Harriet, I... I wanted to apologize. I was mad at you, still am, but I shouldn't have said those awful things."

"No, no, you were right. I am a fail–"

"No!" Edwin hissed. He took a deep breath. "You made a mistake, but you're not disgraceful or pathetic. Please, at least consider my apology."

Harriet nodded slowly, thinking. "I messed everything up."

"My yelling at you didn't fix anything, though. It made you feel bad, and honestly, didn't make me feel any better in the end."

"It didn't?"

Edwin shook his head. "No. I felt awful as soon as I said it. But I felt I couldn't take it back."

Harriet wrung her hands. "I ought to have told you the truth in the city. Or at least on the train."

"We both made bad choices, huh?"

She nodded. "Yeah. But... I accept your apology."

"And I accept yours."

Jo felt that the smile on his face was giving off as much light as one of the candles. His advice had worked. He had patched this rift and now their friendship was that much stronger for each of them admitting their faults. He sighed softly and twisted to face the front. With eyes closed, he let the singing wash over him for the next few minutes.

After about ten minutes, none of them had a watch, Jo stood and joined them at the back of the sanctuary. "Is everything good back here?"

They both nodded. But neither thanked him. He had suggested this stop so they could both rest and warm up. Convinced Edwin to apologize to fix their friendship. Were they not going to even acknowledge his advice?

"We should get going," Harriet said. "We've got about two miles to go."

Edwin nodded. "Just one moment." He turned away and pulled something from his coat pocket. There was a faint scritch scritch and then a tearing sound. A small scrap of paper fluttered from his hand and into the offering plate by the door.

Harriet held the door open. Edwin stepped outside, then Harriet, both without saying anything more to Jo, leaving him alone in the dark corner. They had ignored everything he'd done.