Some Kind of Wonderful: A Holiday Novella (The Cupcake Lovers) by Beth Ciotta

awake … He glanced back to Ben, but the angel, the ghost, the messenger, whatever … was gone.
    Zach fell back on the pallet, temples throbbing.
    He closed his eyes, willing his nerves steady. Maybe he’d been hallucinating. Too much cheap wine. A bit of bad chowder. He didn’t believe in ghosts. Dead was dead, right?
    He rolled away from Maya, toward the comfort of the fire. He wondered if Marx kept any hard liquor in this cabin. He could sure use a shot. He opened his eyes and found himself face-to-face with his mom.
    “Holy hell.”
    “Don’t curse in the presence of women, Zachery.”
    “Sorry.” His long dead mother was lying on her side, propped up on an elbow. She hadn’t aged in fifteen years, and she was still wearing her waitress uniform. “How can you be here, Mom?”
    “You needed me.”
    “I’ve needed you lots of times.”
    “Not like tonight.” She pushed up a couple of inches and looked over his shoulder. “I always liked Maya.”
    Poleaxed by the surreal feeling of being caught between reality and a dream state, Zach flashed back on the holiday movie he’d watched with Maya. He knew Maya thought he was cynical. Had he twisted things in his mind so that he was Scrooge, putting Ben and his mother in the roles of the ghosts of Christmas past and present?
    Damn.
    “Do you have a message, Mom?” he asked, wanting to hurry this nightmare along but at the same time wanting her to linger.
    “I do. But not for you. For Maya. Tell her I said you’ll make beautiful babies.”
    “Mom—”
    “I love you, Zach,” she said, and then she was gone.
    *   *   *
    The next time Zach awakened, sunlight was spilling through the cabin windows and Maya was looking down at him with a big, cheery smile. “Merry Christmas, Zach.”
    He smiled up at her sweet face, palmed her cheek to make sure she was real. “Merry Christmas, Maya.”
    “Storm stopped. At least the wind died down. I’m almost afraid to look outside. There could be six feet of snow out there.”
    “I doubt that, although the drifts could be fierce. I’ll check it out.” He brushed a kiss across her mouth, experiencing a moment of pure joy, before pushing to his feet. Though he managed a poker face, his muscles ached and his leg hurt. What bothered him more was the fuzzy feeling in his head. “Remind me to steer clear of that brand of wine in the future.”
    “Are you feeling hungover?” she asked as she pulled on her undies and jeans. “You didn’t have that much.”
    “Not hungover, but, I don’t know. Disconnected. Groggy. Had a couple of weird dreams.”
    “Want to talk about them?”
    “They’re sort of fuzzy. Maybe some fresh air will help.” Zach dressed quickly, angling his head when he heard a rattle and a hum.
    “Is that the generator?”
    “Sounds like it’s trying to kick in.”
    “That would be awesome.” Maya pulled on that reindeer sweater and whisked into the kitchen area. “I think I saw some oatmeal and coffee. I’ll see if I can whip us up a quick breakfast. We’ll need energy to dig out. Oh, and maybe we should call Daniel. See if he can get someone up here with a plow and—”
    “Maya.”
    “What?” She turned away from the cabinets and teetered into Zach.
    He steadied her, frowned. “Are you babbling because you’re excited about Christmas Day? Or because you’re anxious about us?”
    She smiled a little. “Both?”
    “Like you said last night, we’ll sort things out today. Or maybe tomorrow.”
    “No rush.”
    He grinned now. “Liar.” Backing away, Zach nabbed his walking stick and limped toward the front door. “Make that coffee strong!” he called over his shoulder.
    He stepped onto the porch and shoved on his shades. Unlike yesterday, the sun was beaming full out. There was a lot of snow, but nothing like what Zach had expected. Had it blown and drifted on the other side of the cabin? Navigating knee-deep snow, he rounded to the back …
    And saw an old white-haired man