The Ghosts of Christmas Pastfeatured

The holiday season was upon us and I had stacks of cookbooks and all sorts of plans for meals, snacks, and an itinerary of activities, parties, and other ways to make Christmas magic for everyone–but just like every year when it finally came time to execute these plans I had no energy, desire or resources to do any of it.  I did manage to send out Christmas cards for the first time in years so at least I was able to scratch something off the list.  Gustav was helping me stuff envelopes and Johann Sebastian stamped them very carefully, making sure that every Vintage Santa image was square in the corners.

Gustav examined one card before he put it in the envelope.  “This just has you and Mr. Parker standing on top of a mountain,” he said.  “Why aren’t we in this?”

“Because the only professional shots of all of us have the two of you with your jaws wide open screaming at the photographer.  Also, I want people to see our wedding picture and this is the year to do it.  The company sent me a coupon code, so this will probably be the only time our cards are this nice.”

Gustav pulled a face, but we all kept at it until the pile was done.  “Might as well check our own letter-box,” said Johann Sebastian as he moseyed off to do so.

He returned at a trot waving two postcards and dropping the junk mail behind him.  “Look at this,” he said excitedly, “We have postcards!  Someone sent them to Gustav and I.”

Each postcard had a dachshund in traditional dress and they had been mailed from Germany by Rocky, a friend of ours on vacation there.  “How very exciting,” murmured Johann as he studied the stamp and postmark.  “They are from a dachshund museum!”

We all admired the cards and put them with the rest of the Christmas correspondence on top of the china cabinet.  “We need to keep those out all year round,” said Gustav.

The dachshund postcards put us all in a good mood for the rest of the day.  It was sorely needed; the end of the fall semester had been stressful and to top it all off there had been a terrible loss in the family–Hoku, the quiet and ancient cat, had gone to her rest after sixteen years of age.  It was all very sad for everyone but it shattered Jeremy and Bowie especially.

Because of this I had to rush to open all of the Christmas decoration boxes before Jeremy did, looking specifically for the stocking box.  Behind his back I tossed the smallest stocking with Hoku’s name in gold to Johann Sebastian, who snatched it out of the air, slithered under the couch, waited until Jeremy had gone into the next room and passed it off to Gustav, who promptly stuffed it in a drawer in the china cabinet.

Then Jeremy noticed the stockings hung on their hooks and that the cat’s was missing, and instead of being “out of sight, out of mind” it just made things even worse.  When Gustav went to the drawer to retrieve it and discovered it was gone everything escalated to a disaster as the panicked dachshunds and I tore the house apart looking for the stocking (“You idiot!  Where is it???”  “I PUT IT IN THE DRAWER, I KNOW WHERE I PUT IT!!!!”  “Well WHY ISN’T IT THERE???”  “I don’t know, but we better find it quick!”).  Soon it was discovered that Bowie had sniffed it out and gently nestled it in her basket among her other stuffed toys.  Jeremy told us to let it stay where it was.

Many churches had open services once again and Jeremy had plenty of services to play at.  While the extra money was nice to have his absence made the evenings dull, but we made the best of it making Chex mix, drinking root beer and playing board games.  The house favourite was a gift from one of my students–Dachshund-opoly–and we enjoyed it very much…

…At least until Gustav, enraged that he landed on the most expensive spot with four bones (owned by Johann Sebastian no less) with barely any cash on paw, immediately flipped the board over and sent pieces, cards and play money flying in all directions.

This put a temporary end to family game nights and once Gustav remembered Santa Claus he was very remorseful indeed.  The dachshunds and Bowie had each written out wish lists.  Gustav’s was very simple (a baton of his own, more patrols of the neighbourhood, his own pair of binoculars) Johann Sebastian’s was bound and cross indexed with the ideal (Peace for all living beings, a new ukulele) to the expensive (an English horn or a bari sax–“used is fine”).  Bowie’s was just strange (“A Guide to Spiritual Protection”, “Crystals to protect from ghosts,” and so on).

“I am not buying an English horn for a dachshund.  I don’t even have an English horn for MY wind ensemble!”  Jeremy muttered.  “I have enough things to worry about at work.  Home is a place to relax.  I can’t relax if I come home and there is a dachshund practicing the English horn.”

“Then just let him borrow a bari sax.”

“A bari sax!  This is because he listens to too much of that Chris Hazleton’s Boogaloo 7 album.  How on earth is he supposed to use a bari sax??!!?  His legs are four inches long.”

“Don’t you have a friend who owns a music shop?  Ask him.  He’ll know.”

“Ceth Barnett is a great friend and runs a great business but I draw the line at asking him to order or make key extensions for a bari sax for my wife’s treacherous dachshund.”   He frowned irritably.  “I’m only concerned about buying gifts for you.  Your dachshunds are your gift-buying responsibility.”

While Jeremy was too embarrassed to go to Barnett Music Exchange and look at instruments for Johann I was not, and on the weekend I drove down to the shop.  Ceth was tickled by the idea of a dachshund requesting a musical instrument as a Christmas gift and looked at Johann’s wish list seriously.  However key extensions for a bari sax wouldn’t be possible at a configuration needed for a dachshund and he had no English horns in stock.  But then he showed me the nicest concert ukulele I’d ever seen, a big upgrade from Johann’s current one.  When I saw that it was called Honduran Mahogany Doghair I decided that it was the perfect gift for Johann–the color of the wood even matched the rich brown-red of his coat–so with that and a new baton for Gustav, dachshund gifts were taken care of easily.

It was the afternoon of the 23rd and I had completed everything else on my to-do list with all gifts wrapped and ready beneath the tree.  Jeremy, however, had not and he had disappeared again with strict orders that he not be followed.  This was fine with us and the dogs and I got out the bowl of Chex mix and watched old fashioned animated Christmas specials until the doorbell rang.  We were all bundled together in blankets on the couch and by the time we’d finally gotten untangled from each other and made it the door, we saw the UPS truck speeding away down our street.

When I looked at the label on the package the return address said Kendra Scott, Austin TX.  I hadn’t ordered anything from them in nearly a year, and shook my head with surprise and looked closer.  The delivery address was our house, but the addressee’s name was blank.

I opened the parcel and saw the familiar yellow Kendra Scott gift box, gold logo, and white ribbon.  Inside the box was the limited edition holiday Iridescent Opalite Harlow necklace with matching Emmy earrings.  I’d wanted this set very much but once it was finally released I simply couldn’t afford it.  And yet it had still arrived–Jeremy’s favourite hobby was constantly complaining about the size of my jewelry collection, so he definitely wouldn’t have bought it for me–and asking the dachshunds about it just got me shrugs in return.

I twisted my lips to one side.  Something had happened several weeks ago that I hadn’t told anyone.  I’d come home several days after Kendra Scott’s massive “buy more get more” and “sale on sale”,  the kickoff for the holiday season.  I hadn’t ordered anything then either but nevertheless there were two parcels waiting on the doorstep with three full parure of jewelry.  There was no name on the package but it was clearly our address.  I’d already set the dachshunds out in the back yard to play so no one knew about those two packages arriving but me.  No one ever said anything about it and I, not wanting to take the heat from Jeremy about something I hadn’t even done, stashed it away in a closet until I could figure out who had ordered it–but in all the excitement of preparing for Christmas, I’d forgotten until now.

I told the dachshunds about the other two packages and Johann Sebastian, Gustav and I cast uneasy looks at Aurora’s shrine.  None of us had to say that this was exactly the type of thing Aurora herself would order–but she had died in 2019.  It was impossible.  And yet…a strange uneasiness settled over the three of us as we contemplated this third mystery yellow box.

I removed the gift invoice from the envelope looking for more clues.  The address was correct but the name was blank.  The complete lack of name on all three boxes was even more unsettling than if it had “Her Imperial Highness Aurora Alexandria”–and it still wouldn’t get me out of trouble (I was so tired of being interrogated by Jeremy about the provenance of every piece I owned).

It was such an unnerving moment that Johann Sebastian glanced worriedly at the mother of pearl box that held Aurora’s ashes and I could tell what he was thinking but was afraid to say–“is she still in there?”

I think I would have fainted dead away like Bowie if I’d pried opened the lid and found it empty, but when I finally mustered the courage to pick up the box it had the unmistakable  weight of being full of cremains.  The seal had not been tampered with.

“This is ridiculous,” I told the dachshunds.  “It doesn’t make sense, and Aurora is gone.”

Gustav was still suspicious.  “Well where did it come from, then?  It wasn’t us.”

Maybe Jeremy really did order it, I thought to myself.  While his day was not complete without teasing me relentlessly at least once, sending me jewelry and pretending it was from my dead Cocker Spaniel was a line he would not cross.  He knew how her death had destroyed me and especially after the loss of Hoku I could not see him even contemplating such a cruel trick.

“Maybe Jeremy did,” I replied slowly, “and he just forgot.”

Gustav agreed with me but I could tell that he didn’t believe it either.

We went on about our business that evening and Jeremy crashed through the front door loaded down with packages and bags stuffed with tissue paper.  I decided that whether I got in trouble or not I had to tell him about the mysterious Kendra Scott parcels.  There had to be a reasonable explanation for this.  I also had my banking and credit apps at the ready to show him that there had been no charges from Kendra Scott on any cards, so it wasn’t anything I had done.  But he had another gig booked for that evening and as soon as he put his gifts under the tree he had to get ready to leave; he ran out the door in concert black with his trombone case slung over his shoulder and his mute bag in one hand.   “Don’t wait on me for dinner,” he called over his shoulder, “Just keep a plate for me to heat up later.”

Gustav and Johann Sebastian sat in their chairs in the front window watching the Challenger back out of the driveway and disappear into the night.  “Well, you tried to tell him,” said Gustav.  “They were delivered here, they are yours now.  Mr. Parker will never know it’s something you don’t already have.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I murmured and Johann nodded.  “Something is afoot,” he agreed.  “Maybe it should be left in the boxes until we can get to the bottom of this.”

I patted Johann on the head and he smiled.  “That sounds like the best plan for right now,” I told him.  “I’m sure we can find a place to conceal them until I can talk to Jeremy about this.”

I ended up stacking them behind a few books on my nightstand but I still felt uneasy–Johann was right–something was definitely afoot.

But what?