Page 8 of The Omega's Beary Merry Christmas

We had a long talk in the car about not approaching bears—especially cubs—not trying to get a fox to come see her, and definitely not calling, “Here, skunky, skunky,” just because the smelly critters looked like cats. She agreed but told me very firmly that if the fairies came, she was going to chat them up.

I told her that was fine—as long as she ignored the bears.

We had brought a lot more than I realized, and it took a while to get everything out of the car and where it belonged. I had Natalie’s presents hidden in my suitcase, along with some games, coloring books, and a read-aloud I planned to share with her. It wasn’t like there was TV reception here for her to watch her favorite shows.

She was very intoFrosty the Snowman—it was her favorite. One winter, she always wore two scarves, sure the one she got at the local thrift store was a magical one and she’d be able to makea new friend out of snow. It had been adorable. But no Frosty this year.

Instead, we were going to have an old-fashioned Christmas. It was going to be great.

There were some flurries, and Natalie wanted to go out and play. I gave her far more instructions than she probably needed, helped her bundle up, and we went outside. The flurries were gone, in their place huge flakes of snow already accumulating on the ground. It was warmer than it looked but still cold

“I’m going to dance!” She twirled.

“That’s fine, but remember what I said.”

“No going past the tree line and no playing with bears unless fairies are there to protect me.” I conceded the last part because if fairies were real and showed up with a bear, there were a lot more things to worry about than the bear.

That’s when the sole of my boot started to flap. I’d known for a while it was time for new, but I’d been holding off for February when they’d go on sale. It looked like I’d waited a little too long and because I’d been trying not to pack too much, I didn’t have any spares.

“Hey, Natalie, look at Daddy’s foot!” I picked it up and let the sole flap down. “I need to go inside and see if they have any duct tape to fix it.”

“Can I come with you and meet them? I have questions like, why do ducks have tape?”

I wasn’t sure if she was being silly or serious and decided to treat it as the latter.

“It’s duct with a T not a K, but they do sound the same. You know, the silver tape your father used to fix everything.”

She nodded.

“Maybe it’ll keep my boots together.”

“Okay, Daddy, but don’t worry! I won’t go past the tree line. I promise. I need to make snow angels—lots and lots of snow angels. Shhh, don’t tell, but they’re actually snow fairies.”

Not that there was anyone to tell.

“That way, when the fairies come, they’ll see them and know this is a place to play. And then, the bears are gonna frolic. You’ll see.”

“Frolic? That’s a pretty big word.”

“Mrs. Davis taught it to me,” she said proudly, straightening her shoulders. “Now, go fix your boot because I want you to make some angels too!”

“Yes, ma’am.” I went inside, figuring every junk drawer had duct tape. Sure enough. The last thing I wanted to do was travel down the mountain to find a store. Luckily, I found some tape easily. I wrapped it around my boot a few times. If I wasn’t too hard on them, the fix should last through the vacation—hopefully. If not, there was more tape.

As I put the roll back, I got grease on my fingers from a random spring in the drawer. Junk drawers were like that, you never knew what was in them.

I turned on the water, and it went from tepid to cold to freezing. I kept waiting for it to warm up, but it never did. The water was so cold my hands were shaking by the time they were clean. I looked under the sink to see if there was one of those localized hot water heaters to turn on. Nothing.

I went to what I thought was the furnace room, but all I found were spare coats. I wasn’t sure why I was even bothering. Looking at a furnace was the equivalent of me looking under my hood when my car broke down or inside my computer if it wouldn’t turn on. I’d have no idea what I was even seeing. Eventually, I did find the furnace, though, tried all the obvious things, and I heard an alarming noise, one that told me to stop and get help.

The instructions the owner left on the counter mentioned Bert, the owner’s brother who lived on the far side of the property in another house. He was the one to contact for help.

It looked like we were meeting someone new today—or, more accurately, interrupting someone who probably wouldn’t be thrilled about us bothering him during the holiday. Especially if he had a family. Oh well. Water this cold could lead to a burst pipe, and that was significantly worse than getting a call while chilling with your family. At least, that’s how I justified it in my head.

“That’s three.” I let out a long breath, “First, there were no swaps where we wanted to go, then, my boots broke, and now, there’s no hot water.” If bad things came in threes, I hoped that meant we were done.

Something caught my eye outside the window. There was a man talking to Natalie.

I ran outside quickly, only to discover it was Bert—not a random stranger like I’d originally feared.

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