=========================== Bells On Bobtail Ring 01/02 by Nancy Kaminski (c) December 25, 2004 =========================== 2 am, December 23, 2004 Natalie Lambert clicked Save, then leaned back and threw her arms over her head in a spine-cracking stretch. "Done!" she said satisfaction to the report on her monitor, and wriggled a bit in her supposedly ergonomic chair to ease her tightened muscles. She yawned and glanced at the clock. "Just two more hours to time-off heaven," she thought, a smile creeping across her face. She had a lazy weekend and Christmas with her relatives to look forward to---good food, laughter, board games, and torn wrapping paper and boxes in drifts around her sister-in-law's Christmas tree. She could leave her grim occupation behind her, at least for most of the weekend. Maybe she could "accidentally" let her pager battery run down. Or just forget it completely and enjoy the day without being dragged in to tidy up the messes left by sudden, unexplained death. Not that she would actually do that, but it was fun to think about. "Being a dutiful, conscientious public employee," she thought, "can be a real pain sometimes." She idly swung back and forth in the chair, then spun it around---and stopped. Sitting in the middle of her autopsy table was a small, gaily-wrapped Christmas present. "What the..." she muttered. She'd been in her office/autopsy suite for the last two hours, and outside of several phone calls, had been completely alone. No one could have...well, *almost* no one could have delivered the present without her knowing it. "Damn sneaky vampires," she announced to the empty room, and waited a moment in case Nick appeared to take responsibility for the present. No one else she knew had the ability---or inclination---to commit a drive-by gifting. He had told her he was going out of town for the weekend, but hadn't mentioned exactly when he was leaving or where he was going. She didn't know if he actually had somewhere to go, or was just avoiding Christmas entirely. Her invitation to come to her place for a glass of experimental, protein-based eggnog had been politely refused. After a full minute passed and Nick hadn't materialized, she shrugged, retrieved the box, and sat down again to examine it. The box was about five inches on a side, wrapped in red paper embossed with gold Christmas trees. Gold ribbon encircled the box and was tied into a bow with a cascade of curls on top. Natalie opened the small gift card attached to the bow. "A memento of Christmas Past. Merry Christmas! Love, Nick." Natalie shook the box gently and was rewarded with a muffled "ching-ching". Intrigued, she shook it again. "Ching-ching-ching." "Well, I'm not waiting for Christmas to open you," she told the box, and after carefully removing the bow and sticking it on the corner of her computer monitor, ripped open the paper to find a box of pale, polished wood with a hinged lid. Lifting the lid revealed an object wrapped in soft cotton cloth, resting in a nest of raffia. Natalie unfolded the cotton wrapping to find a sleigh bell hung from a deep green velvet ribbon, the weighty bronze freshly polished to a soft glow. The bell was big, a good three inches in diameter, and clearly old and well-used. In fact, there was a dent in one side where it had apparently collided with something. Natalie held the bell up by the ribbon and shook it. CHING-CHING-CHING it rang, this time unmuffled by cotton and raffia. It had a lovely, musical tone, not tinny like the decorative sleigh bells you could buy to put on your front door. No, this was the real thing, meant to ring loud and clear through frosty air on the harness of a high-stepping carriage horse. She cupped the bell in her hand. The metal was cool and silky smooth to the touch, with a satisfying heaviness. It was an unusual gift, but then, the giver was unusual, too. "I wonder what Christmas past this is a memento of?" she mused. She started to put the bell back into its box when she saw a piece of paper in the bottom. She unfolded it and read, "A souvenir of Paris, 1846, and a chance encounter with Mr. Charles Dickens." "Wow," she breathed. "Now that's what I call a real Christmas bell." She wondered what constituted a "chance encounter" with the author of that most Christmasy of stories, "A Christmas Carol." And why that souvenir was a dented sleigh bell. A story was definitely in order, and Natalie resolved to ask Nick for it as soon as possible. She jingled the bell again---ching-ching-ching-ching-ching---"Now, where's the best place to put you?" ======================= 2 am, December 22 Nick Knight leaned back on his leather sofa and stared at the fire. It was almost Christmas and he hadn't chosen a gift yet for Natalie, and he was beginning to feel the slightest sense of desperation. Giving her something was always a tricky business. He was already finding it difficult to keep their relationship on the fine edge between friendship and romance. A gift that was too expensive, too personal, too---romantic---could lead to disaster for both of them. He stood and started prowling around the loft, eyeing the various treasures he had on display. Natalie often asked him about their histories, admired them, and yes, sometimes sighed and mentioned how nice it would be to be able to afford to have something like them for her own. Somehow, though, a piece of pre-Columbian pottery or an elaborately carved Gothic fireplace mantel didn't seem appropriate for the season. He sat down and resumed staring at the fire. Suddenly the memory of a certain winter night in 1846 flashed into his mind. The bell! Where was the sleigh bell? He was fairly sure he still had it, but where? Energized, he ran upstairs and unlocked the door that led to the other half of the warehouse. The air on the other side of the door was cool and musty. He threw the light switch to reveal a large, open area filled with trunks, chests, and boxes----the stuff he couldn't bear to part with, or was too lazy to dispose of. It would all make one hell of a garage sale, he though, surveying the room, then started rummaging through the nearest trunk. Two hours later, he held up his prize. "Gotcha!" he exclaimed. The sleigh bell was a dull, tarnished brown, but it still chimed as sweetly as it had that cold night long ago. Well, that was easily remedied---provided he could find the metal polish. =============================== Paris, 10 pm, December 23, 1846 "I can't believe you did that!" Nicholas strode angrily along the street. "To take that woman right under Duvalier's nose!" Lacroix followed at a more leisurely pace. "Calm down, Nicholas. She was only the downstairs maid, and not a very good one at that. Duvalier would probably thank me, if he knew who removed her from his employ." "You promised me you would behave!" Nicholas slashed his walking stick at an innocent shrubbery, resulting in a shower of dislodged snow and broken twigs. "I did behave. I was very discreet. They won't find the body until at least tomorrow, if then." "You know what I mean!" Nicholas rounded on his master and glared at him. "Do not lecture me, Nicholas!" Lacroix returned the glare. More heated words were exchanged, and their argument took its usual course---that is, Nicholas got the stuffing knocked out of him, but did his best to give back as good as he got. In the heat of the argument, neither vampire noticed that they were midway across the street. They also did not notice the two-wheeler pulled by a smart pair of bays that rattled around the corner at a fast clip. The street was dark, and the two combatants were clad mostly in black and so virtually invisible. The unsuspecting driver didn't see them until he was almost upon them. He shouted a warning and wrenched the reins to try to steer the suddenly shying horses around the flailing figures. The horses' iron-shod hooves sparked and slid on the snowy cobblestones while the carriage wheels slewed sideways. The cheerful jangling of the harness bells melded with the horrified cries of the driver and the carriage's occupants as Nicholas caromed off the side of the near horse. The vampire grabbed at the harness in a vain attempt to regain his feet, but the cobblestones were too slick and he disappeared under the wheels of the carriage. The driver hauled on the reins and finally got the bays under control. He stopped the carriage and looked back over his shoulder in horror at the figure lying in a heap on the street. Lacroix, who had managed to avoid the carriage entirely, melted into the shadows and disappeared. A passenger sprang out of the carriage and hurried to Nicholas, who by now was sitting up. "I say, sir, are you all right?" Nicholas stood and brushed futilely at his clothes. "Yes, I'm quite all right," he said crossly, looking around for his master. Typical, he fumed silently, throw me under a carriage and then simply leave me to sort out the mess. "It's a miracle!" the man exclaimed. "I thought you were dead when you fell underneath the horses! Are you certain you are unhurt?" Nicholas pulled himself together and forced a smile to his face. "I am certain. I must have fallen between the horses, and the wheels missed me entirely. Thank you for your concern, sir, but truly, I am fine." The man gestured down the street. "At least allow me to take you to my house for a restorative brandy. You must be shaken to the core to have averted death so closely! I thought I saw a struggle---were you being attacked by footpads?" Nicholas nodded. That was as good an explanation as any for the fight. "Yes, that's right. In a way it is fortunate that you came along, or else I'd be robbed and perhaps dead by now. My house is nearby, though, so I will refuse your kind offer and simply continue on my way." The man took a card case out of his pocket and offered Nicholas his card. "Well, allow me to give you my card. Please do call on me if you need anything as a result of this unfortunate accident." "You are very kind, sir." Nicholas glanced at the card. "Mr. Dickens! I have enjoyed your stories for many years. I am honored to have been run over by so famous an author." Mr. Dickens laughed. "The pleasure was all mine, I'm sure. Please do call on me, if only to let me know that you are fully recovered from the experience. I shall be in Paris for another month or so. Good night, sir, and a merry Christmas to you and your family!" "And to yours, Mr. Dickens. Good night." Nicholas watched as the famous author regained his seat in the carriage and signaled the driver to continue on. As the carriage continued on its way, he spied a glint in the street and stooped to retrieve it. It was one of the sleigh bells from the horses' harness, no doubt pulled off when he grabbed the harness in an attempt to keep his feet. It bore a dent in one side, probably from being stepped on by one of the horses. He slipped the bell into his pocket as a souvenir of his chance meeting with Mr. Dickens, and, shrugging his cloak into place, headed towards home. He had no use for a sleigh bell at the moment, but perhaps some day it would come in handy. ===================== Fin Merry Christmas, one and all! Nancy Kaminski nancykam@Comcast.net www.nancykam.com =========================== Bells On Bobtail Ring 02/02 by Nancy Kaminski (c) December 25, 2004 =========================== Afterword Many years ago, I boarded my horse at a farm that still had many of the old buildings standing. I enjoyed poking around in those buildings to see the relics of a bygone era. In one old, ramshackle storage shed, I found a couple of horse collars, dried up old harness, and, in a corner, a cobwebbed, dirty, tarnished old sleigh bell. I asked Bill, the owner, if I could have the old bell, and he shrugged and said sure, why not? So I took it home and spent an hour polishing it. It made the loveliest sound I'd ever heard from a sleigh bell, and since then it has hung in my room from a gold ribbon. I've worn my sleigh bell in the winter "Reindeer Run" charity 10k run held every Christmas in the Twin Cities, and my horse has worn it to barn Christmas parties. I did try to put it on my dachshund once, but it's just too darned heavy for her and she objected strenuously. And now, Natalie gets to own its virtual twin. I hope she likes it. I've made a habit of writing Christmas stories, so if you're so inclined, you can read past ones on my website at www.nancykam.com. I'm also going to put a photo of my lovely old sleigh bell there. For now, though, it's over the meadow and through the woods to brother Chuck's house for Christmas dinner, presents, and the traditional Yahtzee tournament. We'll be traveling by Camry, not by horse-drawn sleigh, but the anticipation of family and fun are no doubt the same. My best wished to all FKers for a Merry Christmas and a very happy New Year! Nancy Kaminski nancykam@comcast.net www.nancykam.com