A Letter to the Giftmaker - Chapter 20

"No!" Edwin slammed his fists against the metal gate, the pain reverberating through him. "Come back!"

His shout was lost in the wind. The tiny, dark shape shuffled up the drive, nearly lost in the distance amongst the ever-increasing snowflakes. After just a moment, it turned a corner and was lost amongst the trees.

"No! Please!" The metal rang out as he hit it again.

"Edwin, I..." Harriet placed a hand on his shoulder.

He pulled away and closed his eyes. His stomach felt empty and twisted. He wrapped his arms around himself. Everything was askew.

The lantern lay in a snowbank, the orange light casting an angled shadow across the scene. Jo had already opened the mailbox, a huge container the size of a coal bin, and the crooked light showed it was empty.

The last post for the day had already been collected.

Edwin leaned against the brick column that supported the gate. He slid down it and his coat caught in the brick. It felt as though someone had pulled out his insides and replaced them with lead weights. Each shallow breath was just a tempting taste of oxygen before the next began.

"I... failed..." He laid down in the snow bank and curled up.

The cold wetness soaking into his clothes just barely registered to him. Instead, he watched as a snowflake drifted down and landed on his coat. Another came, and then another. Soon, he could be completely buried under the snow and safe.

There was a soft thud as something landed near his head.

"Hey, Edwin?" Jo asked softly. "You okay."

He grunted. What words could express how broken everything was?

"I know... I know it seems bad, but we can't give up now."

Another shape joined Jo. Harriet leaned over. "He's right. We can still fix this."

"How?"

"We go in," Jo said. "We force open the gate or climb over, and walk right up to that mansion. We knock on the door and demand to be let in."

Edwin chuckled ruefully. "Haven't you heard the stories? The Giftmaker does not accept any visitors."

"We'll make him accept us," Jo said. "This isn't a casual visit. This is important, right?"

Edwin nodded. "Yes, but he punishes those who come. Instead of presents, he sends them misfortune and ill luck."

"You have your wishpaper, though," Jo said. "He has to accept it."

"But what about you two?" Edwin sat up and looked between them. "He'll punish you."

"Then let me go," Harriet said.

"Alone?" Edwin furrowed his eyebrows.

She held up her gloved hands. "I know you don't trust me. I know how much I've messed everything up."

He nodded. "You have."

"But this is how I can make it up to you. A real apology for everything I ruined." She paced and pulled at her hair. "Let me bring the letter up to the house. Let me complete at least one delivery."

"Then you'll be the target of the Giftmaker's wrath." He absently brushed the thin layer of snow from his shoulders. "He'll make everything you do fail. You'd be poor, homeless, alone."

"I've already lost any chance of being a letter carrier," Harriet said softly. "What's the worst he could do to me now?"

"No!" Jo said. "If we do anything, we do it together. We've made it this far, right?"

"No, I have to do this alone," Harriet said.

"It's my letter. If anyone should go alone, it's me." Edwin grabbed the cold bricks and pulled himself up.

Jo rolled his eyes. "Can't you just accept the help of your friends?"

"We're not friends!" Edwin shouted.

"No, because you won't let anyone help you," Harriet said.

"Oh, like I want your help?" He jabbed a finger in her face. "Everything that happened is your fault!"

"Then let me make it up to you. Let me take the letter."

"No, it's my letter."

"Oh for crying out loud." She threw her hands in the air. "You're so childish! Just let someone help!"

"Exactly," Jo jumped in. "Let your friends help. We can do this together."

"No, I'm doing it alone!" Harriet said.

Edwin turned away, squeezing his eyes shut. They're arguing faded to a distant, annoying buzz. He needed to think. He needed quiet.

Stepping away from the lantern light, he returned to the road. Each footstep crunched beneath the newly fallen layer of snow. The flakes were falling faster and the storm was picking up. The mansion was the only shelter they knew of for miles.

They could go together and ask for help, but that wouldn't solve his letter issue. Harriet was right, that just one of them should present the letter, but it should be him. It was his letter, so he should both face the consequences and reap the rewards.

But it would also be so easy to give up. Silas and his family had shown there were plenty of kind people around. They could keep walking until they found a farm. Maybe they could sleep in a living room, or at least a warm barn.

He chuckled to himself. That would be almost appropriate, spending Christmas Eve in a barn. Just like Mary and Joseph. But no, he wouldn't give up now.

Back in the circle of light by the gate, Harriet and Jo were still arguing. He caught scraps of their arguments, which circled one another like two bulls afraid to commit to a fight. The two choices are both equally good and bad, but he had to choose.

He pulled out the paper. He had written it alone, but without either of them, he wouldn't be here now. And he knew that in both the good and bad way. He knew the right answer.

"Hey!" He strode over to them. "Stop fighting. I've made my choice."

"And?" Jo asked.

"We made it this far together. I say we finish it together."

Jo smiled. "As friends?"

Edwin paused. He felt a lump in his throat. "Yeah, as fr–"

Darting forward, Harriet snatched the letter from his hand and sprinted into the forest.

Edwin stared after her into darkness beneath the pines. He blinked rapidly, his hand still held out but the space between his fingers now empty and cold. She took his letter.