“I just wish I knew why they couldn’t schedule this meeting until after Christmas,” Marlene detto with a heavy cuore as she and Skipper walked through the airport.
“Don’t worry, Marlene. I’ll be back for Christmas. This whole thing was situational. It isn’t something that can wait,” Skipper replied.
Marlene hugged herself. “I hope so. Natale wouldn’t be the same without te guys,” she said.
Skipper smiled and came to a stop, sitting his suitcase on the ground successivo to him. “Come here,” he detto taking her da the waist. He looked into her chocolate-brown eyes. “I promise te that I’ll do whatever it takes to be home for Christmas. Now, have I ever broken any of my promises?”
Marlene sighed. “No,” she detto submissively. “I’m just worried. Natale is only four days away.”
Skipper nudged her. “Well, don’t be. All right?” he detto assuringly. Marlene smiled insecurely and nodded. Skipper pulled her closer. “That’s my girl. I’ll call te when I get to Seattle,” he told her.
“And not a minuto later,” Marlene detto with a grin.
Skipper grinned back and pressed his lips against hers. A few secondi later, someone cleared their throat successivo to them and they parted.
“Sorry, Skipper,” Kowalski detto awkwardly, “we need to board.”
Skipper looked at Marlene. “I’ll see te at Christmas,” he detto with a smile.
Marlene nodded. “Have a nice flight.”
Skipper picked up his bag and joined Kowalski as they, Rico, and Private left to board their flight.
— § —
The successivo morning, Marlene sat at her cucina tavolo stirring a cinnamon stick in a cup of hot chocolate, staring a picture of her and Skipper on their first date. It would absolutely just break her cuore if he couldn’t get home da Christmas. Of course, she wouldn’t blame him. There would just be a hole in her Natale giorno if they didn’t come back in time.
Her phone rang and she read “Skipper” on the caller ID. “Skipper?” she answered.
“Hey, Marlene. I just wanted to let te know that I’ve already booked a flight back to Manhattan on the morning of the twenty-third and I should be there sometime in the afternoon,” Skipper replied.
Marlene smiled. “That’s great. I thought te were in that meeting now?”
“We’re taking a ten minuto recess. Thought I’d give a quick call. Everything okay?” he asked.
“If I say no, will te come back now?” Marlene asked with a touch of doubt.
Skipper laughed half-heartedly. “I’m sorry, Marlene. Look, I gotta go. Call te when I can, okay?”
“All right. Bye, Skipper,” Marlene detto disappointedly.
“Not bye, Marlene. See te later,” Skipper replied.
Marlene smiled. “See te later.”
The line went dead and she set her phone down with a sigh.
In Seattle, Skipper tucked his phone into his inside breast pocket and looked down in thought. Kowalski came up to him.
“Was lying to her really the best way to go about things, Skipper? What if te can’t make it o she finds out?” he asked.
Skipper sighed. “I know. But I couldn’t tell her all the flights were cancelled due to inclement weather. I promised her I’d find a way and I will.”
“By doing what, hitchhiking down a Frozen interstate?” Kowalski asked crossing his arms.
Skipper narrowed his eyes. “I could use a little support, here.”
Kowalski rolled his eyes. “Fine, but later. We’ve got to get back to the meeting.”
— § —
At about seven o’clock the successivo morning—the morning of the twenty-third—Skipper checked all flights to Manhattan from today until Natale morning on his laptop. All were still cancelled. Apparently the snow was falling like it was going out of style. How was he supposed to get home? più importantly, how would he tell Marlene if he couldn’t make it in time?
“Morning, Skipper,” Kowalski detto coming into the small cucina in a white tee with Bill Nye pajama bottoms, his black hair in a tousled mess. “Flights still cancelled?” he asked grabbing a coffee cup.
“Yeah,” Skipper detto with a sigh. He watched as Rico came into the cucina carrying Private over his shoulder, despite the fact that he was twenty years old. He sat him at the counter and he groggily laid his head down with a moan. “Sleep much, soldier?” he asked with a humorous grin.
Private moaned again.
Skipper chuckled and slid the plate of bacon, pancetta affumicata to him. “Here, eat something. It’ll wake te right up.”
Private picked his head up like it weighed five tons. “The letto in my room isn’t mine,” he pouted as he propped his head up on his fist and fiddled with a piece of bacon.
Skipper patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll get us home soon,” he assured the little homesick cadet.
“How?” Kowalski detto setting his cup on the counter and stirring cream into it. “With the way the weather’s been, it could be successivo week, maybe even longer before a flight opens up. Even then, that doesn’t guarantee that we’ll get a flight straight from here to Manhattan.”
Rico poured a cup of coffee, squirted cream straight into his mouth, and then drank about half the cup full down with it. Kowalski grimaced at him.
“Not even science can figure te out,” he detto taking a sip of his coffee. Rico shrugged and snatched a piece of bacon, holding it in his mouth as he took his coffee and the cream away from the kitchen.
“I do have an idea, but I’m not sure how to make it work,” Skipper piped up.
Kowalski spit his coffee back into his cup. “To figure Rico out?” he asked in genuine shock.
Skipper rolled his eyes. “No, to get back to Manhattan da Christmas,” he corrected.
Kowalski let out a relieved sigh. “For a secondo I thought you’d Lost your mind. What’s your idea?”
“Well, there are some open flights at Eastern Oregon Regional Airport, just northwest of Pendleton. It’s only about a four and half ora drive away, but we don’t have our car. It would take a whole giorno to take transit.”
“Why can’t we rent a car?” Private suggested.
“Because we’d have to leave it at the airport. Someone would have to bring it back and pay the bill,” Skipper said. “Unless we can find someone with nothing better to do to deliver it, which I’d doubt.”
“Well, Skipper,” Kowalski started, “if that’s all you’re worried about, I’ll drive the car back.”
Skipper looked up at him as he gave him a sincere smile.
“No, Kowalski, I couldn’t ask te to do that. I’m not going to leave te behind,” Skipper insisted tapping at his keyboard.
Kowalski laughed as if he knew he was going to say that. “Skipper, really. Consider it my Natale gift to you.”
Skipper gave him a look. “You forgot to go shopping again, didn’t you?”
Kowalski awkwardly sipped at his coffee and looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.
Skipper rolled his eyes. “Nonetheless, I can’t just leave te here in Seattle. It’s either all of us o none of us,” he insisted.
Kowalski thought for a moment. “You know, that guy from the meeting—Max, I believe his name was—he detto he’d be willing to do te a favor after te helped him solve that case. Why don’t te give him a call and see if he’d be up to it?” he suggested.
Skipper pursed his lips in thought. “I’d hate to drag him all the way to Oregon. It’d be a whole nine ora drive for him,” he said.
“Well, if te explain that you’re just trying to get home for Christmas, I’m sure he would Amore to do it in spirit. Besides, he’d be back before Natale Eve. Only if te call now, though,” Kowalski urged.
Skipper nodded. “All right, te convinced me. I’ll go find his number.”
He went into his room and dug into the pockets of the suit he’d worn yesterday and pulled out Max Wayne’s number and called him on his cell phone.
“Wayne,” he answered.
“Hey, Max, it’s Skipper. Saw te at the meeting yesterday?” Skipper replied.
“Oh, hey! What’s up?”
“Look, remember when te detto if I needed anything to call?” he asked.
“Yeah, te had something in mind?” Max asked.
“Yeah . . .” Skipper detto slowly. “It’s kind of a huge favor, really, and I’d understand if you’re not up to it.”
“Try me,” Max urged.
“Well, I’d really like to be home, in Manhattan, for Christmas, but all the flights are cancelled due to all the snow. The nearest airport with available flights is at the airport near Pendleton, Oregon. The quickest way to get there is da car, but I’d have to rent one, but then someone would have to bring it back to the rental dealership and I can’t leave one of my unit behind. I was just wondering if—”
“Say no more, pal. I’ll drive the car back for you,” Max agreed.
Skipper smiled, almost speechless. “Wow, really? Thank te so much, this really means a lot to me. I promise I’ll pay for anything there and back: food, gas, the rent, whatever.”
“No problem. But we’d better get going if I’m gonna make it back before it gets too late. That’s a long drive,” Max said.
“Absolutely,” Skipper agreed, “where do te live?”
“Seattle Apartments at 2312 3rd Avenue, I’ll meet te in the lobby,” Max told him.
Skipper jotted down the address. “I’ll be there in half an hour. And thanks again,” he said.
“No problem! It’s Christmas! See te later,” he told him.
“See you,” Skipper detto before ending the call. It seemed his luck was turning.
— § —
To pass the time, Marlene decided to buy a small Natale albero and some decorations for it to put in her apartment. She walked around the tree, adjusting the tinsel and ornaments, strategically placing small caramelle canes here and there, and feeling lonely while doing it.
When she finished, she looked over her masterpiece. A crease formed between her eyes when she realized something was missing from it. She snapped her fingers.
“A star!” she thought aloud. She went in thought when she realized she hadn’t bought a stella, star to put on top. Then a thought came to her: why not just make her own star? It would help pass even più time.
After laying out as many arts-n-crafts supplies as she could find in her apartment on her cucina counter, she set to work.
She worked for about an ora when there was a knock at the door and she answered to Becky and Stacy, her cousins who lived two floors up.
“Cousin!” they exclaimed simultaneously as they hugged either side of her.
“Hey—cousins!” Marlene replied with barely enough time to react to what just happened. “Look at you—here—in my apartment—” She lowered her voice under her breath. “—with no prior notice whatsoever . . .” She shut the door behind them.
Stacy—who was a tan brunette wearing a black sweater with red poinsettias etched all over it, jeans, and brown knee-high boots—turned to her. “Oh, come now, Marlene! te know spontaneity is our middle name! We were talking about who to send Natale cards to and when we thought of you, we realized we hadn’t seen te in ages!”
Becky—who was a bit lighter-skinned and blonde, and was wearing a white sweater with Rudolph on the front, jeans, and red appartamenti with golden-colored bells etched into the toe—looked at the albero in the center of her apartment and squealed with delight. “Aw, Marlene! Look at te in the Natale spirit!”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Marlene inquired.
“We heard about Skipper being out of town. I’m sorry he won’t be home for Christmas,” Becky detto wrapping her arms around her shoulders and squeezing her tightly.
Marlene pushed away and tucked her hair behind her ear with an uncertain laugh. “No, he called me yesterday. He detto he booked a flight for tomorrow morning and would be back da that afternoon,” she told them.
Becky and Stacy exchanged a knowing look, both frowning.
“Marlene,” Stacy started, putting her hand on her shoulder, “I don’t know how to tell te this, but all the flights have been cancelled to and from Washington.”
Marlene’s face contorted in confusion. “What? No, you’re wrong. Skipper told me he booked the flight.”
“Well,” Becky broke in, “he probably just didn’t want te to worry. He’s probably hoping he’ll find another way. Trust us, Marlene. We looked at available flights when we were trying to decide when to go see other relatives for Christmas. We happened to see that flight schedule. The snow is crazy over there. I’m sorry, Marlene.”
Marlene looked down and pushed Stacy’s hand away. “I’ll be right back,” she detto pushing through them and grabbing her cappotto off the hook on the wall. Slipping it on, she went out on the terrace and pulled out her cell phone.
— § —
“All right, boys, we’re taking the nonstop to Manhattan at 1430 hours,” Skipper detto as they climbed into the rental van, brushing the snow off their shoulders. It was coming down pretty steadily now.
“Great,” Kowalski detto shutting their luggage into the trunk. “I guess things will work out after all.”
“We get to be home for Christmas!” Private detto happily from the backseat. Rico smiled and offered him a bite of his popcorn ball that he’d doused in Cioccolato syrup. Private declined the offer da pressing his lips together and shaking his head back and forth. Rico shrugged and took a big bite out of it, leaving the syrup all around his mouth.
“And that is why I bought plenty of these,” Kowalski detto handing a roll of paper towels back to him as he settled in the passenger seat.
“Buckle up, everyone. And Rico, I swear, if te get one stain in this car, I’m making te lick it clean,” Skipper warned.
Rico thought for a moment. “Okay!” he detto with a smile that, much to the team’s worry, seemed legit. Then again, Rico had done stranger things.
Just as Skipper started the engine, his phone rang in Skipper’s thick winter giacca pocket. He read Marlene’s name on the screen and answered as he pulled out of the lot.
“Hey, Marlene. Everything all right?” he answered.
“Skipper, I was just wondering, are te still booked for that flight tomorrow?” Marlene asked, ignoring his question.
Skipper took a breath as he prepared himself to lie again. “Yes, Marlene. Everything’s going to work out fine.”
“Skipper, I’m looking at the flight schedule to and from Washington on my phone right now. All of them are cancelled,” Marlene replied.
Skipper pushed his head back into the sede, sedile in defeat. He had to remind himself he couldn’t close his eyes o he’d crash.
“I’m really sorry, Marlene,” he detto slowly. “I just didn’t want te to worry. And te still don’t have to, I’ve found an alternative. I’m driving to an airport near Pendleton in a rental. A friend will drive the rental back while we take the flight nonstop to Manhattan. I should be there sometime tonight.”
There was silence for a moment.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth this time?” Marlene asked. Skipper could hear the tears in her voice. “As much as I want te home for Christmas, I don’t want te to give me false hope.”
Skipper listened to her shaky breathing through the receiver and looked at the snow on the side of the road. “I’m telling the truth, Marlene. te can trust me.”
Marlene waited a moment before replying. “All right. I believe you,” she detto slowly. “But don’t lie to me again. I do trust you, Skipper, and I don’t want that to change.”
Skipper nodded as if she could see him. “You can trust me, Marlene,” he repeated. “I gotta go. Amore you.”
“Love you, too, Skipper,” she replied before disconnecting the line.
Skipper dropped his phone back in his pocket and turned into Seattle Apartments, where a chaotic scene was unfolding. There was an ambulanza parked in front of the building with a small crowd of people around taking foto and video. Skipper parked da the curb several feet back and turned to his team.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he detto getting out. He jogged down the sidewalk and moved around the onlookers when he saw Max about to get climb into the back of the ambulance.
“Max!” Skipper called, jogging to the back of the ambulance. Max poked his head back out and his face fell in shock, as if he couldn’t believe he was there.
“Skipper,” he detto jumping down and putting his hands on his shoulders, “look, man, I am so sorry. It’s my wife, she’s going into labor! Can te believe it? I’m going to officially be a Dad! When it happened, I completely forgot. I’m gonna—”
“Max! If te don’t get in this ambulanza right now I’ll drive it up your—!”
“Coming, darling!” Max called back into the ambulance. “Look, I gotta go. I’m so sorry. I wish te luck!” he detto climbing back into the ambulance.
“It’s fine,” Skipper called back half-heartedly. “Congratulations.”
Skipper shrugged his way back to the furgone, van and slumped into the seat, resting his head on the headrest with his eyes shut.
“What happened, Skipper?” Kowalski inquired.
Skipper started laughing. “Just my luck happened,” he detto sitting his elbow on the windowsill and resting his forehead on the palm of his hand. “Max’s wife is going into labor. Now. Of course, it had to be now! It’s been nine months, it couldn’t wait another day?” he asked no one in particular—perhaps Cruel Fate.
“What are te going to tell Marlene? te detto te wouldn’t lie to her anymore,” Private asked from the backseat.
Skipper stared absent-mindedly out the windshield as the ambulanza left the parking lot and the commotion died down.
“I don’t know, Private,” he detto quietly.
Kowalski looked at him sympathetically and sighed. “You won’t have to tell her anything because we’re going to that airport,” he said.
Skipper scoffed and shook his head. “And what about the car, Kowalski? They might charge just a bit extra to get someone to go to Oregon to pick it up,” he detto looking at him irritably.
“Because,” Kowalski detto sternly, “I’m going to bring the car back.”
“No,” Skipper detto looking out the window, “I already told te that’s not happening. There’s no way I’m leaving te behind, especially on Christmas.”
“And there’s no way I’m going to stand da and let te crush Marlene and yourself when I could’ve done something. Now, Rico’s cooking all the food, Private’s homesick, and me? I’m just there for the fun. No one really needs me there.”
“Maybe not, be we all want te there. I’m not leaving te in Washington and that’s final, Kowalski,” Skipper insisted.
“Skipper, if we’re going to make that flight, we need to drive now. Really, I have no problem waiting here for a flight to open up. I’ll take the first one back the Manhattan. If it’s after Christmas, so be it! Let me do this for you, Skipper!” Kowalski pleaded.
“No! I’m not! And I believe I outrank you, so what I say, goes!” Skipper argued.
Kowalski unbuckled his seatbelt and angled himself toward him. “Oh, don’t te throw that up to me! This is not work, and we are not at the precinct! It’s Christmas, for Einstein’s sake! I’m trying to help you, but you’re just too hardheaded to let me!”
Skipper angled toward him. “And I’m telling te that Natale is a time to be together, to be with the ones te care about! You’re one of those people I care about, Kowalski! I’m not leaving te behind!”
“And you’re one of those people I care about, Skipper! You’re absolutely right! Natale is a time to be with the ones te love, and the one that loves te is about to have her cuore crushed into the snow because te broke your promise to her and didn’t make it home for Natale when te know I could’ve gotten te there!”
Skipper was about to respond, but the image of Marlene crying on Natale because he broke his promise to her—because he was too stubborn to accept Kowalski’s help—when all he had to do was say yes to Kowalski to be there. She was looking inoltrare, avanti to him being there and her one fear was that he wouldn’t make it. He promised her he would and he was already coming close to breaking his promise to her. He broke eye contact and looked at the dashboard.
“Even if I agree to this now,” he detto softly, “I’m not sure how easy it’ll be for me to just let te leave at the airport.”
Kowalski smiled. “Well, in that case, I hope that thick winter cappotto weighs te down so I can outrun you.”
Skipper looked at Kowalski as he relaxed back in his sede, sedile and buckled his seatbelt.
“I guess it’s settled then. We should get going,” he detto turning back to him with a warm smile.
Skipper pressed his lips together and looked at Rico and Private in the backseat. Private was fiddling with his fingertips and looked away when Skipper turned to him. Rico was holding a large chip halfway to his mouth, which was hanging open, and he was looking between Skipper and Kowalski. When Skipper looked at him he awkwardly finished the chip's journey and a loud crunch reverberated throughout the van. Skipper looked at him bitterly and Rico held the bag out to him, offering him a chip. Skipper shook his head and looked at Kowalski.
“I really don’t know what to say, Kowalski. ‘Thank you’ just doesn’t seem to be enough,” he detto softly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kowalski replied. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky and a flight will open up soon.”
“And of course that’d be my luck,” Skipper detto buckling his seatbelt and starting the engine. “Go through all this trouble and then a flight opens up.”
“Well, better not to take the chance,” Kowalski detto as Skipper started pulling out of the parking lot. He stopped to wait for traffic.
“I owe you, Kowalski,” Skipper detto looking at him with serious eyes. “More than te know.”
Kowalski smiled. “Enjoy your Natale with Marlene, Skipper. That’s all the payment I’ll need.”
— § —
“All right, peoples! Let’s keep things moving!” Julien commanded as the zoosters decorated the apartment building’s cafeteria they’d rented out.
“You could help, te know,” Roy asked irritably as he set a candle on a table.
“I am helping! I am being the technical supervisor guy. I’m good at that,” Julien detto smugly. Roy rolled his eyes and continued setting a candle in the middle of the tables. He turned as Marlene walked in with Becky and Stacy.
“Ah! Hello, ladies!” he detto approaching them with open arms. He took Becky and Stacy’s hands. “Enchante, mademoiselles,” he detto baciare each of their hands. Marlene rolled her eyes as Becky and Stacy exchanged a humorous glance.
“Hey, Julien,” Marlene said, “we just came down to see how things were coming, maybe help out a little.”
“Well, of course!” Julien replied. “We are always welcoming three lovely ladies to the party,” he detto suavely, causing Becky and Stacy to smile and Marlene to cock an eyebrow. “Anyway,” Julien continued, “any word from the guys?”
Marlene shifted her weight uncomfortably. “They’ll be here sometime tonight,” she detto trying to hide her anxiety.
Julien knit his eyebrows. “You don’t seem too sure about that,” he observed.
“They’ll be here,” Marlene insisted before walking off.
Julien looked at Becky and Stacy inquisitively, but they just held their hands up like they didn’t want to say anything and followed her.
“Marlene,” Stacy detto tenderly placing a hand her shoulder as she rummaged through a box, “are te sure te want to be down here? I can tell you’re really worried about this.”
“I’m fine,” Marlene insisted. “I just need something to distract me.”
Becky and Stacy exchanged a glance, and then they smiled as the same thought crossed through their minds.
“Then we’ll help,” they detto simultaneously.
Marlene cocked an eyebrow and watched as they crossed the room to where a radio was sitting idle on a table. Becky hit a button and adjusted the frequency, then turned it up loud enough to fill the room with Rockin’ Around the Natale Tree. Everyone turned as Becky and Stacy started moving to the beat.
“I say it’s time for a break!” Becky called. The two crossed the room back to Marlene and each took an arm as they dragged her to the center of the room.
“Whoa, no, guys, I don’t really feel up to—”
“Come on, Marlene!” Becky insisted.
“The only way to make time fly is to have some fun!” Stacy added as they started dancing with her. Soon enough everyone else dropped what they were doing and joined in. While Julien took Stacy and shared a dance with her, Becky continued to encourage Marlene to let loose. Marlene glanced around at everyone around her having a good time and without realizing it, she too was moving to the beat.
With a smile, she decided to forget her troubles, and she danced with all her friends.
— § —
“I’m gonna kill him! I’m gonna kill him!” Skipper detto hitting the steering wheel as they sat idle on the side of the Frozen interstate.
“Well, te know Rico gets hungry when he travels,” Kowalski said, trying to calm him down.
“But we’re already running behind! It seems like everything that could go wrong is going wrong! Is he done yet?” he asked trying to see Rico out of Kowalski’s window. He could just barely see him crouched da a bush, holding his stomach.
Kowalski sighed. “Maybe. Look on the bright side, at least te managed to pull over first,” he said.
Skipper gripped the superiore, in alto of the steering wheel with both hands and rested his forehead on his knuckles. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t look to see who it was.
“Don’t give up hope, Skipper,” detto Private’s voice. “I’m sure we’ll find a way. We always do, don’t we?”
“There’s a first time for everything, Private,” Skipper detto irresolutely.
Private exchanged a glance with Kowalski as Rico climbed back in the car, his face a sickly green.
“How do te feel, Rico?” Kowalski asked.
Rico put his sede, sedile back and turtled into his giacca with a moan.
“I’m going to take that as well enough to sposta on,” Kowalski detto nudging Skipper to put the car in gear.
Skipper sat back and started them moving again. “What time is it?” he asked with a sigh.
Kowalski checked his watch. “Nearly eleven,” he answered.
Skipper scoffed. “We still have just over two hours to drive. There’s no way we’ll be able to pick up our tickets and get through security before the flight leaves.”
“Sorry, Skipper . . .” Rico mumbled in the backseat.
Skipper looked at him in the rearview mirror and sighed. “It’s all right, Rico. It’s not your fault,” he said, “mostly,” he added under his breath.
Kowalski thought for a moment and smiled. “I know, maybe some Natale Musica will help cheer te up.”
He turned on the radio and turned up the volume. He nearly facepalmed when he realized what was playing.
. . . a long road back, and I promise you.
I’ll be home for Christmas.
te can count on me.
Please have snow, and mistletoe
And presents under the tree—
Kowalski awkwardly reached over and changed the station. He smiled; this one wasn’t so bad. He frowned when the chorus started.
. . . tuning up all the Jing-Jing-Jinglin’ sleigh bells
And rehearsing jolly Ho Ho Ho’s
Oh, don’t te know that one way o another
I’ll be coming home for Natale day!
Doesn’t matter any kind of weather
te know that I’ll always find a way!—
This time Skipper reached over and changed the station as Kowalski fiddled with his fingers in his lap.
. . . my own in a big red bow!
Santa, can te hear me?
I have been so good this year.
And all I want is one thing:
Tell me my true Amore is near!
He’s all I want! Just for me!
Underneath my Natale tree!
I’ll be waiting here.
Santa that’s my only wish this year—
Kowalski reached over and switched the radio off. “Maybe later,” he detto with a nervous smile, internally cursing at himself. Of course, the old ‘every station reminds me of my problems’ gag. What a cliché.
— § —
Around half after noon, Marlene and her cousins were elbow deep in flour and cookie dough.
“I’ll get the cookie cutters,” Marlene detto before realizing there was flour all over her hands. She laughed. “Probably should’ve grabbed them before getting the dough ready.”
She grabbed a towel from successivo to the sink and wrapped it around her hand, using it to open a cabinet and pulling out a jar of holiday cookie cutters.
Becky took it from her dumped the contents onto the counter. “Ooh! I want the mistletoe!” she squealed taking that particular cutter and pushing it into her cookie dough. Stacy grabbed an Angel and pressed it into hers.
Marlene looked over the cookie cutters and spotted a snowman and took it in her hands. It reminded her of this one time she had a sinus infection near the holidays. She was miserable and couldn’t do much of anything than eat, sleep, and watch television. Skipper would come check on her when he wasn’t busy with anything. One of those times, he came in and surprised her with a big bucket of snow. The two of them made a tiny snowman together. It left her fingers numb, but she had fun doing it. She pressed the snowman cutter into her dough and promised herself that one would be for Skipper when he returned tonight.
“Everything all right, Marlene?” Becky asked pushing a gingerbread man into her dough.
“Yeah, I just thought of something is all,” Marlene replied pushing a stella, star into hers.
“Well, think about the cookies!” Stacy said. “We’re doing this to keep your mind occupied from certain things and certain people,” she told her giving her a stern look.
Marlene nodded. “Right. The cookies. And thanks for trying to help,” she said.
“No problem, cousin! Think fast!” Becky detto poking her cheek, leaving a spot of flour behind.
“Hey!” Marlene detto trying to reach her face, but she held her wrist. Marlene used her free hand to throw some at her, but some of it landed on Stacy as well.
Eventually the three of them were covered in flour, there biscotti, cookie forgotten.
— § —
“Yes, I was planning a flight to Manhattan at two-thirty, but I’m not going to make it. Can te tell me when the successivo nonstop to Manhattan is?” Skipper asked someone at the Eastern Oregon Regional Airport as he sat idle in traffic just twenty minuti away, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Just a moment,” the woman on the other end said, “looks like the successivo nonstop to Manhattan isn’t until nine-twenty tonight, sir.”
Skipper shoved his tongue into his cheek. “You’re sure there’s nothing earlier?”
“Well, if you’re in a hurry, there’s a three-ten to Scottsbluff, Nebraska and te can take a flight straight from there to Manhattan and be there just after midnight,” she suggested.
Skipper considered. “Can te hold on a moment?”
“Yes, sir.”
Skipper muted his receiver and looked at Private and Rico in the rear view mirror. “The successivo nonstop is at nine-twenty tonight, but she detto there’s a three-ten to Nebraska and take a flight straight from there to Manhattan.”
“Fine with me,” Private answered.
Rico just held up a water bottle, as if in toast, and then downed the rest of it. Skipper took it as a yes.
“Ma’am?” he detto into his phone after unmuting it.
“Yes, sir?” the woman answered.
“Thank te for your help,” Skipper said.
“You’re welcome, sir. Have a wonderful day, and a Merry Christmas!” the woman replied.
“You, too,” Skipper detto before hanging up. “Come on, we’re almost there!” he shouted at the traffic in front of him moving just a couple car lengths every half hour. There was an accident that’d occurred ahead because of the ice and the policemen had to gradually direct traffic into the right lane.
Rico reached a Hershey baciare around his seat. “Kiss?” he offered.
Skipper rolled his eyes. “No,” he declined. Then he thought for a moment. “Yes,” he detto holding his hand back to him. Rico dropped a baciare into it. He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. He let the Cioccolato melt in his mouth.
“Skipper, it’s only one-thirty,” Kowalski said. “We’re not too far off. In fact, I think I see our exit right up there,” he detto pointing down the road.
Skipper thought for a moment. “Hey, Private,” he called.
“Yes, Skipper?” Private called back.
“Do me a favor. Climb to the back of the furgone, van and find my suitcase. My badge is in the small pocket in the front. Get it for me,” he told him.
“Um, okay,” Private detto unbuckling his seatbelt. “Why?”
“Just do it, all right?” Skipper replied.
Private climbed between the seats and rummaged through the luggage in the back. A couple minuti later, he produced Skipper’s badge and he turned around. “Here it is.”
“Climb back in your seat,” Skipper said. Private did as told and buckled himself back in. He handed Skipper his badge. “Thanks. Now everyone hold on.”
The team exchanged a glance.
Kowalski looked at him warily. “Why do we have to hold on?”
Skipper smiled. “Let’s just say I’m glad we had to get in the right lane,” he detto as he pulled the car to the right and started driving down the emergency lane.
“Skipper! This is illegal! I shouldn’t have to tell te that, you’re a cop!” Kowalski scolded.
Skipper clenched his teeth. “I know that, Kowalski. I’m not proud of it, but it’s Christmas, and I made a promise to Marlene. If I get pulled over, I’ll just mostra ‘em my badge and sposta on.”
“Skipper, you’re abusing your shield! That’s illegal, too!” Kowalski argued.
“You think I don’t know that, Kowalski?” Skipper detto turning at the Exit. “It’s once in seventeen years of service! Let it go.”
Kowalski laughed incredulously and ran his hand over his face. “Could te at least slow down? The flight leaves at three-ten not in ten minutes. That’s another law you’re breaking, da the way.”
Skipper rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he detto easing off the gas. But before he got the chance, a flash of blue and red lights blinked behind them. Skipper was expecting that to happen with the policemen dealing with the accident on the interstate. He pulled over and waited for the officer to come to his door before rolling down his window.
“License and registration, please,” she asked. She was a corpulento, birra di malto African American woman with her head covered in a thick hat that covered the superiore, in alto of her small ears. Her nametag read MEREB.
Skipper showed her his badge. “Ma’am, I’m police. I need to be somewhere.”
Mereb examined his badge. “That’s a New York Police badge, sir. Why are te in Oregon? più importantly, why are te in Oregon trying to use your New York badge to get out of a speeding ticket?”
“I—I’m tracking a lead, ma’am,” he lied.
Mereb narrowed her eyes. “And who are they?” she asked pointing to the other three in the car.
“They’re my unit. They came with me,” Skipper answered.
Mereb set her jaw in thought. “Let me get your badge number and confermare this. Which precinct do te work for?”
Skipper blinked. “Ma’am, we’re in a hurry here. If we don’t go now, we could miss our lead.”
In the passenger seat, Kowalski fidgeted. He hated Skipper lowering himself to lying to a policemen, especially when he was one himself, but he understood why he was doing it. He made a promise to Marlene, and he never broke his promises. He sighed.
“Officer,” he called. Mereb leaned down so she could see him. “Please. If we don’t catch this lead and solve this case, we can’t go home. My son wants me home for Christmas, and I want to be there,” he lied.
Mereb looked down for a moment, and then sighed. “Fine. Consider this a Natale warning. Go on,” she detto before walking back to her vehicle without waiting for a reply.
Skipper looked at him. “Thanks,” he detto with a grateful smile. “I’m sorry I lied . . . again.”
Kowalski looked at the road in front of them. “Don’t worry about it. It’s Christmas,” he detto looking toward him with an understanding smile. “We should go. But, uh, go the speed limit, all right?” he added with a grin.
Skipper put the car in gear. “Fine, if te want to take the fun out of everything,” he detto with a laugh.
Private pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m really confused, are te two still mad at each other o are we okay now?”
Skipper and Kowalski laughed. Private propped his head up da his fist.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” he muttered.
— § —
At the airport, Skipper, Rico, and Private grabbed their luggage from the rental, which consisted of one suitcase and one carry-on each, and started their goodbye’s to Kowalski.
Private hugged him. “I’ll miss you, Kowalski! I hope te make it home for Christmas!” he told him.
Kowalski patted his back. “Don’t worry about me, Private. I’ll see te soon.”
Rico grasped his hand and pressed his shoulder to his, using his other hand to pat his back. “Miss you, buddy,” he said.
“Miss you, too, Rico,” Kowalski detto patting his back. They parted and Kowalski turned to Skipper, who was looking at the ground.
“Can te guys, uh, give us a minute?” he requested.
Private and Rico exchanged a glance and nodded as they gathered their luggage and made their way inside the airport.
“Look, Kowalski, I—”
“I know what you’re going to say, Skipper,” Kowalski interrupted. “You don’t need to—”
“No, te don’t know what I’m going to say,” Skipper detto looking at him with crisp, blue eyes. He crossed his arms and didn’t meet his eye. “I know I’m not perfect. There are things in my past I wish I could change. I just wanted te to know that—” He paused and finally made eye contact. “I wanted te to know that what you’re doing for me now is . . . It’s something I could never repay, not fully. I really don’t know how to thank you, Kowalski. I don’t deserve a friend like you.”
Kowalski smiled. “I don’t believe that. Besides, Skipper, we’re brothers. Whether te deserve one like me o not, you’re stuck with me,” he detto bracing a hand on his shoulder.
Skipper smiled and they embraced. “I hope to see te in Manhattan real soon,” he detto over his shoulder.
“You, too, Skipper. Now, go. Marlene’s waiting for you,” he told him pulling away.
Skipper nodded and grabbed his luggage. “See te on the other side of the nation, Kowalski,” he said.
Kowalski gave a salute and Skipper ran off into the airport.
He found Private and Rico waiting in line to get their tickets. Rico was munching on a granola bar.
“Where are te getting all this food?” Skipper asked. Rico opened up his duffel bag to reveal all kinds of snacks. Skipper rolled his eyes. “Of course. Got any Dibbles? I’m starving,”
“Regular o spicy?” Rico asked through his granola bar.
Skipper cocked an eyebrow. “Uh, regular, I guess.”
Rico reached into the bag and despite it’s jumbled mess, he pulled out a bag of Cheezy Dibbles as if each thing had it’s own specific place and handed it to him. Skipper accepted it in and opened it, popping a Dibble into his mouth.
“What time is it?” he asked between crunches.
Private looked at his cell phone. “Just past two. We might just make it,” he detto with a smile.
Skipper licked cheese off his fingers and rolled up the superiore, in alto of the bag before putting it in his giacca pocket. He picked up his luggage and they moved inoltrare, avanti with the line. Skipper looked at the flight board and found the Pendleton to Scottsbluff. successivo to it read “ON TIME” in big letters. Skipper smiled. “I’m on my way, Marlene,” he detto softly to himself.
At the desk, a woman sat behind it wearing square, black glasses with her blonde hair tied back in a knot. She was wearing a red Natale sweater with tiny reindeer all over it, running in different directions.
“Three for the three-ten to Scottsbluff, Nebraska, please,” Skipper requested.
“Photo identification, please,” the woman requested in a Bronx accent. Skipper, Rico, and Private all handed her their driver’s licenses. After processing them, she said, “Twelve hundred thirty dollars, sir. Cash o credit?”
“Credit,” Skipper detto with a sigh. This was eating up his savings. He scanned his credit card and paid the bill. The woman told them to be through the gates prior to ten minuti before departure. Soon after, the three of them were moving toward the successivo security checkpoint with their boarding passes.
After getting through the metal detectors, they found their gate just as they were almost finished boarding. Skipper checked the time on his phone; it was just a few minuti until three.
“Hey, te two go ahead and board, I just want to call Marlene for a few secondi before we take off,” he told them. Private and Rico nodded and gave their boarding passes to the man at the gate and continued on to the plane.
Skipper took out his cell and dialed Marlene.
“Skipper?” Marlene answered.
“Yeah, it’s me. Just letting te know I’m boarding a plane to Nebraska now, and I’ll catch a flight to Manhattan from there. I’ll be there sometime in the middle of the night,” Skipper told her.
Marlene sighed with relief. “That’s great! I’m so glad. I can’t wait to see you.”
Skipper smiled. “You, too, Marlene.”
“Last call for boarding at Gate 14,” detto a voice over the intercom.
“Look, Marlene, I need to go. I’ll see te later,” Skipper said.
“All right, Skipper. See you,” she detto hanging up.
Skipper turned his phone off and tucked it into his pocket. He turned to head for the gate when he realized he didn’t have his boarding pass and felt a momentary sense of panic, but sighed with relief when he realized he’d dropped it a few yards behind him. He picked it up and turned back, his stomach turning over when he saw the man at the gate pulling the door shut.
“Wait!” he called breaking into a sprint for the door. “Wait, this is my flight.”
“Sorry, we just boarded. te should’ve came earlier,” the man—who was much larger than Skipper, da the way—said looking down at him.
“Sir, please, I had to drive all the way from Seattle last minuto because the snow is too heavy up there for any flights. My girlfriend’s in Manhattan, I promised I’d be there. Please,” he begged.
“I’m sorry, sir, the gate is closed. They’ll be pulling the airstairs away from the plane now. There’s nothing I can do,” he said.
Skipper scoffed and put his face in his free hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he detto under his breath. “Thanks anyway,” he detto turning and trudging back through the airport. Let’s see here, Skipper thought, Kowalski sacrificed going home for Natale for nothing, four hundred ten dollars down the drain, wasted time, and another plan to get home failed. He went back to the ticket desk.
“Can I help you?” asked the woman with the glasses.
“Yes,” Skipper answered in an urgent tone, “I missed the flight. I need to know of flights that will land me in Manhattan da tomorrow.”
The woman worked at her computer for a moment. “Well, the snowstorms have been getting worse throughout the northern regions. Many flights have either been delayed o cancelled. The earliest I see is a four-twenty to Bloomington, Illinois, take a flight from there to Manhattan,” she explained.
Skipper let out an anxious breath. “How long will that take?”
“About five to six hours, if te go straight through,” she answered.
“And the cost?” Skipper asked with a wince.
“Just you?” the woman followed up. Skipper nodded weakly. “Probably looking at about six hundred dollars.”
Skipper nodded slowly. “I guess there’s no way I’m getting my money back for this, right?” he detto holding up his boarding pass.
The woman shook her head. “No refunds. Sorry.”
Skipper nodded again. “Figured. Thanks,” he detto turning and walking to a waiting area. He set his was-to-be carry-on bag on the ground and sat down a couple seats away from a man talking to someone on the phone. He seemed upset. Skipper pulled out his phone and turned it back on, and then called Kowalski.
“Hello?” answered Kowalski’s voice.
“Hey. It’s me,” Skipper replied.
“Skipper? Shouldn’t te be on board?” Kowalski asked.
Skipper closed his eyes. “Kowalski, this isn’t easy to say, but I missed the flight. I let Private and Rico board, and I was just going to call Marlene for just a minuto to let her know I was going to be there soon, and da the time I turned around, they were shutting the gates. I feel like the biggest idiot on earth. I’m so sorry, Kowalski. te sacrificed going home for me, and I blew it.”
He heard Kowalski sigh. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad. To be honest, I feel too sorry for te to be upset. I know te were so happy to have a way back to Manhattan. Did te check to see if there were any più flights available soon?”
“Yeah. She detto my best bet to get to Manhattan as quick as possible is to take a plane to Bloomington, Illinois, and then to Manhattan. I don’t have enough money for that.”
“How much money do te have? I thought te had quite a bit saved up,” Kowalski asked.
“I did,” Skipper detto feeling the outline of something in his pocket, “but plane tickets are expensive. I’m down to about four hundred bucks.”
There was a brief pause. “Well, as much as it pains me to suggest this,” Kowalski detto regretfully, “Julien has più money than he knows what to do with. Why don’t te ask him for some money to buy the plane tickets?”
Skipper busted out laughing. “Oh, whew! That’s funny, Kowalski. I guess that’s one way to get me to laugh at a time like this.”
“Um, actually, I was serious. I’d offer some money myself, but um,” he started with a laugh, “I kind of still owe Alice for that hole I blew in her bacheca from that experiment gone wrong, heh. She isn’t letting it slide just because it’s Christmas.”
Skipper sighed. “I don’t know, Kowalski. I’ve never had to ask anyone for money before, let alone Julien. What makes te think he’ll help me, anyway?”
“While te two may have your differences, I assure you, he’d want te there for Christmas. And maybe te could tug his cuore strings a little da telling him te want to be there with Marlene,” Kowalski suggested.
Skipper cringed at the thought of asking Julien for help—especially financial help.
“Come on, Skipper. ingoiare, inghiottire your pride this one time. For Marlene,” Kowalski urged.
Skipper tensed as he forced the words out. “Fine. I’ll—call Julien,” he finished through his teeth. “Goodbye, Kowalski.”
“Over and out,” Kowalski detto before ending the call.
Skipper took a deep breath and searched through his contacts for “Man Child.” But just before he sent the call to Julien, the man that was on the phone when he’d sat down scooted successivo to him.
“Excuse me,” he detto in a hillbilly-sounding accent. Not one you’d expect from a man in Oregon.
“Um,” Skipper detto awkwardly looking around to ensure he was talking to him, “do I know you?”
“No,” the man detto shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear, did te say te wanted a flight to Bloomington?”
Skipper’s cuore fluttered. “Y-es? Can te help me?”
The man laughed. “Gomer Cummings,” he detto holding out his hand. “I was supposed to fly to see my brother, Bo, for Christmas, and he detto he was in DeKalb. Why, I thought he meant DeKalb, Illinois, but naw, he meant DeKalb, Texas. Sure makes a whole lot più sense since we’re southern folk, te know? But now I got this ticket and ain’t got no use for it. The lady at the scrivania, reception says no refunds. If te want it, you’re welcome to it. I’d hate to see my money go to waste,” he detto holding out his boarding pass to him.
Skipper eyed the boarding pass as if it were a juicy tenderloin. Then he looked at Gomer. “Are te sure? te don’t even know me.”
“Well, te look like a man that wants to be home on Christmas, and I got no business in Illinois,” he replied, pronouncing the ‘s’ in ‘Illinois.’ “Take it.”
Skipper took the pass in his hand. “Thank you, sir. I really don’t know what to say.” His eyes glossed over.
“Aw, it wasn’t that big a thang, mister. No use leakin’ your eyes ‘bout it,” Gomer detto putting a hand on his shoulder.
Skipper shook his head. “No, te don’t understand. te just saved me from doing something horrible! Thank you!” he detto throwing his arms around him.
Gomer awkwardly patted his back. “No—problem, mister. I, uh, really should go, now.”
Skipper let go. “Sorry,” he detto with a sniffle. “Merry Christmas.”
“You, too,” Gomer detto with a smile. He stood up and left him.
Skipper looked at the boarding pass in his hands and smiled. “I’m on my way, Marlene.”
— § —
Three thousand feet up, Private walked through the cabins of the plane, looking for Skipper. When he couldn’t find him, he went to Rico, who was sitting in an aisle sede, sedile eating a bag of airline peanuts.
“Rico, have te seen Skipper? I can’t find him anywhere,” he said.
Rico shook his head and threw back another handful of peanuts.
“You don’t think he didn’t board, do you?” Private asked shifting his weight with worry.
Rico shrugged. “Sure he’s here somewhere,” he detto passively. He offered him some peanuts.
Private shook his head. “No, I’m going to call him on the airline phone. If he’s still in Pendleton, he’ll answer.”
He turned on his heel and found a phone on the bacheca of the plane. He dialed Skipper’s number and waited as the dial tone droned in his ear.
“Hello?” detto Skipper’s voice.
“Skipper, it’s Private. Where are you? I can’t find te on the plane, and I know your cell phone isn’t working up here,” Private said.
“I’m sorry, Private, it’s one thing after another. After my call with Marlene they shut the gates on me. They wouldn’t let me through. I’m taking a four-twenty to Illinois and I’ll catch a flight to Manhattan from there,” Skipper explained. “Just stick with going to Scottsbluff and keep going to Manhattan from there. All right? Don’t worry about me.”
“Oh, well, I wish te luck. I would hate for te to not make it and on superiore, in alto of that, be all alone for Christmas,” Private detto uneasily.
“Will te shh!” Skipper scolded. “I’ve had enough bad luck without te jinxing me!”
“Sorry, Skipper! Do te want me to knock on wood?” Private asked.
Skipper sighed. “No, I’m sorry, Private. I’m just anxious. Every time I find a way home, it goes wrong.”
“It’s okay, Skipper. I understand. Be careful, okay?,” Private told him.
“I will, Private. Enjoy the flight,” Skipper replied.
“I’ll try. te as well. Bye, Skipper. I’ll—see te in Manhattan?” Private detto with a touch of hope.
There was a pause. “Yeah. See te in Manhattan, Private,” Skipper’s voice replied, although it didn’t sound like he had much confidence in it. The line went dead and Private hung the phone back on the bacheca and returned to Rico to explain the situation.
“You really believe he’s gonna make it?” Rico asked with his mouth full of peanuts.
Private thought for a moment. “I hope so.”
— § —
“Do te want to build a snowman?” Becky sang as she, Stacy, and Marlene packed snow together, all bundled up in warm clothing, thick coats, hats, gloves, and scarves.
“Or ride our bikes around the halls?” Stacy joined in.
“I think some company is overdue, I’ve started talking to the pictures on the walls!” Marlene chimed.
“Hang in there, Joan!” they all detto together.
“It gets a little lonely, all these empty rooms, just watching the hours tick by,” they sang together. They commenced a series of tic-toc’s and then broke into laughter as their snowman reached completion. Stacy left to find some arms for it.
“Gosh, I Amore that movie,” Marlene detto with a smile as she started assorting rocks on the head of a snowman to make a smiley face. “Anybody have a spare carrot?” she asked with a grin.
“The one giorno I don’t keep a stash in my back pocket,” Becky joked.
Stacy came back with two long, thin sticks and stuck them in either side of the midsection.
“Yay! Now he can like warm hugs!” she detto cheerfully.
Marlene smiled. “I have a couple carrots in my fridge. I’ll be right back,” she detto walking toward the apartment building.
When she got to her room, she went into the cucina and extracted a carrot from her fridge. She shut the door and froze when she saw the picture of her and Skipper stuck on the refrigerator door da a magnet. It was a foto from her twenty-ninth birthday. Skipper had taken her out on the terrace and kissed her, and someone had followed them and snapped a picture. She and Skipper were a bit embarrassed when they saw it, but Marlene couldn’t find it in her cuore to cancella it. She smiled at the memory, but it quickly faded. Even though Skipper had told her he was on his way this very minute, she couldn’t help but feel that something had went wrong, o was going to go wrong. She pushed the thought from her mind.
Back outside, Becky and Stacy had started a snowball fight with a few other residents from the apartment building Marlene recognized as Mason, Phil, and Roger. Marlene stuck the carrot in the center of the snowman’s face, but quickly had to take cover behind it when Stacy started attacking her with the fluffy, white ice.
“Hey!” she cried. She scooped up two snowballs and launched them from behind the snowman. One caught Stacy in the shoulder and the other just barely missed Phil. Becky started chasing her around the snowman, throwing snowballs as she went.
“I’m gonna turn te into a snow-woman!” Becky threatened with a laugh.
Marlene threw a snowball at her. “Well, I’m turning te into a snow angel because I kill this game!” she shot back, stumbling over her feet.
Becky laughed and was about to launch another snowball at Marlene when she noticed Mason aiming a snowball at her and she moved out of the way. The snowball flew past her and hit the snowman in the head, knocking off the nose that Marlene had just gave it. Marlene, Becky, and Stacy exchanged a glance.
“Baby unicorn killer!” Stacy cried charging toward him with a snowball in each hand.
“I don’t even know what that me-e-eans!” Mason cried as he took off running with the ladies chasing after him, throwing snowballs as they went.
“Don’t worry, Marlene. I’ll be back for Christmas. This whole thing was situational. It isn’t something that can wait,” Skipper replied.
Marlene hugged herself. “I hope so. Natale wouldn’t be the same without te guys,” she said.
Skipper smiled and came to a stop, sitting his suitcase on the ground successivo to him. “Come here,” he detto taking her da the waist. He looked into her chocolate-brown eyes. “I promise te that I’ll do whatever it takes to be home for Christmas. Now, have I ever broken any of my promises?”
Marlene sighed. “No,” she detto submissively. “I’m just worried. Natale is only four days away.”
Skipper nudged her. “Well, don’t be. All right?” he detto assuringly. Marlene smiled insecurely and nodded. Skipper pulled her closer. “That’s my girl. I’ll call te when I get to Seattle,” he told her.
“And not a minuto later,” Marlene detto with a grin.
Skipper grinned back and pressed his lips against hers. A few secondi later, someone cleared their throat successivo to them and they parted.
“Sorry, Skipper,” Kowalski detto awkwardly, “we need to board.”
Skipper looked at Marlene. “I’ll see te at Christmas,” he detto with a smile.
Marlene nodded. “Have a nice flight.”
Skipper picked up his bag and joined Kowalski as they, Rico, and Private left to board their flight.
— § —
The successivo morning, Marlene sat at her cucina tavolo stirring a cinnamon stick in a cup of hot chocolate, staring a picture of her and Skipper on their first date. It would absolutely just break her cuore if he couldn’t get home da Christmas. Of course, she wouldn’t blame him. There would just be a hole in her Natale giorno if they didn’t come back in time.
Her phone rang and she read “Skipper” on the caller ID. “Skipper?” she answered.
“Hey, Marlene. I just wanted to let te know that I’ve already booked a flight back to Manhattan on the morning of the twenty-third and I should be there sometime in the afternoon,” Skipper replied.
Marlene smiled. “That’s great. I thought te were in that meeting now?”
“We’re taking a ten minuto recess. Thought I’d give a quick call. Everything okay?” he asked.
“If I say no, will te come back now?” Marlene asked with a touch of doubt.
Skipper laughed half-heartedly. “I’m sorry, Marlene. Look, I gotta go. Call te when I can, okay?”
“All right. Bye, Skipper,” Marlene detto disappointedly.
“Not bye, Marlene. See te later,” Skipper replied.
Marlene smiled. “See te later.”
The line went dead and she set her phone down with a sigh.
In Seattle, Skipper tucked his phone into his inside breast pocket and looked down in thought. Kowalski came up to him.
“Was lying to her really the best way to go about things, Skipper? What if te can’t make it o she finds out?” he asked.
Skipper sighed. “I know. But I couldn’t tell her all the flights were cancelled due to inclement weather. I promised her I’d find a way and I will.”
“By doing what, hitchhiking down a Frozen interstate?” Kowalski asked crossing his arms.
Skipper narrowed his eyes. “I could use a little support, here.”
Kowalski rolled his eyes. “Fine, but later. We’ve got to get back to the meeting.”
— § —
At about seven o’clock the successivo morning—the morning of the twenty-third—Skipper checked all flights to Manhattan from today until Natale morning on his laptop. All were still cancelled. Apparently the snow was falling like it was going out of style. How was he supposed to get home? più importantly, how would he tell Marlene if he couldn’t make it in time?
“Morning, Skipper,” Kowalski detto coming into the small cucina in a white tee with Bill Nye pajama bottoms, his black hair in a tousled mess. “Flights still cancelled?” he asked grabbing a coffee cup.
“Yeah,” Skipper detto with a sigh. He watched as Rico came into the cucina carrying Private over his shoulder, despite the fact that he was twenty years old. He sat him at the counter and he groggily laid his head down with a moan. “Sleep much, soldier?” he asked with a humorous grin.
Private moaned again.
Skipper chuckled and slid the plate of bacon, pancetta affumicata to him. “Here, eat something. It’ll wake te right up.”
Private picked his head up like it weighed five tons. “The letto in my room isn’t mine,” he pouted as he propped his head up on his fist and fiddled with a piece of bacon.
Skipper patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll get us home soon,” he assured the little homesick cadet.
“How?” Kowalski detto setting his cup on the counter and stirring cream into it. “With the way the weather’s been, it could be successivo week, maybe even longer before a flight opens up. Even then, that doesn’t guarantee that we’ll get a flight straight from here to Manhattan.”
Rico poured a cup of coffee, squirted cream straight into his mouth, and then drank about half the cup full down with it. Kowalski grimaced at him.
“Not even science can figure te out,” he detto taking a sip of his coffee. Rico shrugged and snatched a piece of bacon, holding it in his mouth as he took his coffee and the cream away from the kitchen.
“I do have an idea, but I’m not sure how to make it work,” Skipper piped up.
Kowalski spit his coffee back into his cup. “To figure Rico out?” he asked in genuine shock.
Skipper rolled his eyes. “No, to get back to Manhattan da Christmas,” he corrected.
Kowalski let out a relieved sigh. “For a secondo I thought you’d Lost your mind. What’s your idea?”
“Well, there are some open flights at Eastern Oregon Regional Airport, just northwest of Pendleton. It’s only about a four and half ora drive away, but we don’t have our car. It would take a whole giorno to take transit.”
“Why can’t we rent a car?” Private suggested.
“Because we’d have to leave it at the airport. Someone would have to bring it back and pay the bill,” Skipper said. “Unless we can find someone with nothing better to do to deliver it, which I’d doubt.”
“Well, Skipper,” Kowalski started, “if that’s all you’re worried about, I’ll drive the car back.”
Skipper looked up at him as he gave him a sincere smile.
“No, Kowalski, I couldn’t ask te to do that. I’m not going to leave te behind,” Skipper insisted tapping at his keyboard.
Kowalski laughed as if he knew he was going to say that. “Skipper, really. Consider it my Natale gift to you.”
Skipper gave him a look. “You forgot to go shopping again, didn’t you?”
Kowalski awkwardly sipped at his coffee and looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered.
Skipper rolled his eyes. “Nonetheless, I can’t just leave te here in Seattle. It’s either all of us o none of us,” he insisted.
Kowalski thought for a moment. “You know, that guy from the meeting—Max, I believe his name was—he detto he’d be willing to do te a favor after te helped him solve that case. Why don’t te give him a call and see if he’d be up to it?” he suggested.
Skipper pursed his lips in thought. “I’d hate to drag him all the way to Oregon. It’d be a whole nine ora drive for him,” he said.
“Well, if te explain that you’re just trying to get home for Christmas, I’m sure he would Amore to do it in spirit. Besides, he’d be back before Natale Eve. Only if te call now, though,” Kowalski urged.
Skipper nodded. “All right, te convinced me. I’ll go find his number.”
He went into his room and dug into the pockets of the suit he’d worn yesterday and pulled out Max Wayne’s number and called him on his cell phone.
“Wayne,” he answered.
“Hey, Max, it’s Skipper. Saw te at the meeting yesterday?” Skipper replied.
“Oh, hey! What’s up?”
“Look, remember when te detto if I needed anything to call?” he asked.
“Yeah, te had something in mind?” Max asked.
“Yeah . . .” Skipper detto slowly. “It’s kind of a huge favor, really, and I’d understand if you’re not up to it.”
“Try me,” Max urged.
“Well, I’d really like to be home, in Manhattan, for Christmas, but all the flights are cancelled due to all the snow. The nearest airport with available flights is at the airport near Pendleton, Oregon. The quickest way to get there is da car, but I’d have to rent one, but then someone would have to bring it back to the rental dealership and I can’t leave one of my unit behind. I was just wondering if—”
“Say no more, pal. I’ll drive the car back for you,” Max agreed.
Skipper smiled, almost speechless. “Wow, really? Thank te so much, this really means a lot to me. I promise I’ll pay for anything there and back: food, gas, the rent, whatever.”
“No problem. But we’d better get going if I’m gonna make it back before it gets too late. That’s a long drive,” Max said.
“Absolutely,” Skipper agreed, “where do te live?”
“Seattle Apartments at 2312 3rd Avenue, I’ll meet te in the lobby,” Max told him.
Skipper jotted down the address. “I’ll be there in half an hour. And thanks again,” he said.
“No problem! It’s Christmas! See te later,” he told him.
“See you,” Skipper detto before ending the call. It seemed his luck was turning.
— § —
To pass the time, Marlene decided to buy a small Natale albero and some decorations for it to put in her apartment. She walked around the tree, adjusting the tinsel and ornaments, strategically placing small caramelle canes here and there, and feeling lonely while doing it.
When she finished, she looked over her masterpiece. A crease formed between her eyes when she realized something was missing from it. She snapped her fingers.
“A star!” she thought aloud. She went in thought when she realized she hadn’t bought a stella, star to put on top. Then a thought came to her: why not just make her own star? It would help pass even più time.
After laying out as many arts-n-crafts supplies as she could find in her apartment on her cucina counter, she set to work.
She worked for about an ora when there was a knock at the door and she answered to Becky and Stacy, her cousins who lived two floors up.
“Cousin!” they exclaimed simultaneously as they hugged either side of her.
“Hey—cousins!” Marlene replied with barely enough time to react to what just happened. “Look at you—here—in my apartment—” She lowered her voice under her breath. “—with no prior notice whatsoever . . .” She shut the door behind them.
Stacy—who was a tan brunette wearing a black sweater with red poinsettias etched all over it, jeans, and brown knee-high boots—turned to her. “Oh, come now, Marlene! te know spontaneity is our middle name! We were talking about who to send Natale cards to and when we thought of you, we realized we hadn’t seen te in ages!”
Becky—who was a bit lighter-skinned and blonde, and was wearing a white sweater with Rudolph on the front, jeans, and red appartamenti with golden-colored bells etched into the toe—looked at the albero in the center of her apartment and squealed with delight. “Aw, Marlene! Look at te in the Natale spirit!”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Marlene inquired.
“We heard about Skipper being out of town. I’m sorry he won’t be home for Christmas,” Becky detto wrapping her arms around her shoulders and squeezing her tightly.
Marlene pushed away and tucked her hair behind her ear with an uncertain laugh. “No, he called me yesterday. He detto he booked a flight for tomorrow morning and would be back da that afternoon,” she told them.
Becky and Stacy exchanged a knowing look, both frowning.
“Marlene,” Stacy started, putting her hand on her shoulder, “I don’t know how to tell te this, but all the flights have been cancelled to and from Washington.”
Marlene’s face contorted in confusion. “What? No, you’re wrong. Skipper told me he booked the flight.”
“Well,” Becky broke in, “he probably just didn’t want te to worry. He’s probably hoping he’ll find another way. Trust us, Marlene. We looked at available flights when we were trying to decide when to go see other relatives for Christmas. We happened to see that flight schedule. The snow is crazy over there. I’m sorry, Marlene.”
Marlene looked down and pushed Stacy’s hand away. “I’ll be right back,” she detto pushing through them and grabbing her cappotto off the hook on the wall. Slipping it on, she went out on the terrace and pulled out her cell phone.
— § —
“All right, boys, we’re taking the nonstop to Manhattan at 1430 hours,” Skipper detto as they climbed into the rental van, brushing the snow off their shoulders. It was coming down pretty steadily now.
“Great,” Kowalski detto shutting their luggage into the trunk. “I guess things will work out after all.”
“We get to be home for Christmas!” Private detto happily from the backseat. Rico smiled and offered him a bite of his popcorn ball that he’d doused in Cioccolato syrup. Private declined the offer da pressing his lips together and shaking his head back and forth. Rico shrugged and took a big bite out of it, leaving the syrup all around his mouth.
“And that is why I bought plenty of these,” Kowalski detto handing a roll of paper towels back to him as he settled in the passenger seat.
“Buckle up, everyone. And Rico, I swear, if te get one stain in this car, I’m making te lick it clean,” Skipper warned.
Rico thought for a moment. “Okay!” he detto with a smile that, much to the team’s worry, seemed legit. Then again, Rico had done stranger things.
Just as Skipper started the engine, his phone rang in Skipper’s thick winter giacca pocket. He read Marlene’s name on the screen and answered as he pulled out of the lot.
“Hey, Marlene. Everything all right?” he answered.
“Skipper, I was just wondering, are te still booked for that flight tomorrow?” Marlene asked, ignoring his question.
Skipper took a breath as he prepared himself to lie again. “Yes, Marlene. Everything’s going to work out fine.”
“Skipper, I’m looking at the flight schedule to and from Washington on my phone right now. All of them are cancelled,” Marlene replied.
Skipper pushed his head back into the sede, sedile in defeat. He had to remind himself he couldn’t close his eyes o he’d crash.
“I’m really sorry, Marlene,” he detto slowly. “I just didn’t want te to worry. And te still don’t have to, I’ve found an alternative. I’m driving to an airport near Pendleton in a rental. A friend will drive the rental back while we take the flight nonstop to Manhattan. I should be there sometime tonight.”
There was silence for a moment.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth this time?” Marlene asked. Skipper could hear the tears in her voice. “As much as I want te home for Christmas, I don’t want te to give me false hope.”
Skipper listened to her shaky breathing through the receiver and looked at the snow on the side of the road. “I’m telling the truth, Marlene. te can trust me.”
Marlene waited a moment before replying. “All right. I believe you,” she detto slowly. “But don’t lie to me again. I do trust you, Skipper, and I don’t want that to change.”
Skipper nodded as if she could see him. “You can trust me, Marlene,” he repeated. “I gotta go. Amore you.”
“Love you, too, Skipper,” she replied before disconnecting the line.
Skipper dropped his phone back in his pocket and turned into Seattle Apartments, where a chaotic scene was unfolding. There was an ambulanza parked in front of the building with a small crowd of people around taking foto and video. Skipper parked da the curb several feet back and turned to his team.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he detto getting out. He jogged down the sidewalk and moved around the onlookers when he saw Max about to get climb into the back of the ambulance.
“Max!” Skipper called, jogging to the back of the ambulance. Max poked his head back out and his face fell in shock, as if he couldn’t believe he was there.
“Skipper,” he detto jumping down and putting his hands on his shoulders, “look, man, I am so sorry. It’s my wife, she’s going into labor! Can te believe it? I’m going to officially be a Dad! When it happened, I completely forgot. I’m gonna—”
“Max! If te don’t get in this ambulanza right now I’ll drive it up your—!”
“Coming, darling!” Max called back into the ambulance. “Look, I gotta go. I’m so sorry. I wish te luck!” he detto climbing back into the ambulance.
“It’s fine,” Skipper called back half-heartedly. “Congratulations.”
Skipper shrugged his way back to the furgone, van and slumped into the seat, resting his head on the headrest with his eyes shut.
“What happened, Skipper?” Kowalski inquired.
Skipper started laughing. “Just my luck happened,” he detto sitting his elbow on the windowsill and resting his forehead on the palm of his hand. “Max’s wife is going into labor. Now. Of course, it had to be now! It’s been nine months, it couldn’t wait another day?” he asked no one in particular—perhaps Cruel Fate.
“What are te going to tell Marlene? te detto te wouldn’t lie to her anymore,” Private asked from the backseat.
Skipper stared absent-mindedly out the windshield as the ambulanza left the parking lot and the commotion died down.
“I don’t know, Private,” he detto quietly.
Kowalski looked at him sympathetically and sighed. “You won’t have to tell her anything because we’re going to that airport,” he said.
Skipper scoffed and shook his head. “And what about the car, Kowalski? They might charge just a bit extra to get someone to go to Oregon to pick it up,” he detto looking at him irritably.
“Because,” Kowalski detto sternly, “I’m going to bring the car back.”
“No,” Skipper detto looking out the window, “I already told te that’s not happening. There’s no way I’m leaving te behind, especially on Christmas.”
“And there’s no way I’m going to stand da and let te crush Marlene and yourself when I could’ve done something. Now, Rico’s cooking all the food, Private’s homesick, and me? I’m just there for the fun. No one really needs me there.”
“Maybe not, be we all want te there. I’m not leaving te in Washington and that’s final, Kowalski,” Skipper insisted.
“Skipper, if we’re going to make that flight, we need to drive now. Really, I have no problem waiting here for a flight to open up. I’ll take the first one back the Manhattan. If it’s after Christmas, so be it! Let me do this for you, Skipper!” Kowalski pleaded.
“No! I’m not! And I believe I outrank you, so what I say, goes!” Skipper argued.
Kowalski unbuckled his seatbelt and angled himself toward him. “Oh, don’t te throw that up to me! This is not work, and we are not at the precinct! It’s Christmas, for Einstein’s sake! I’m trying to help you, but you’re just too hardheaded to let me!”
Skipper angled toward him. “And I’m telling te that Natale is a time to be together, to be with the ones te care about! You’re one of those people I care about, Kowalski! I’m not leaving te behind!”
“And you’re one of those people I care about, Skipper! You’re absolutely right! Natale is a time to be with the ones te love, and the one that loves te is about to have her cuore crushed into the snow because te broke your promise to her and didn’t make it home for Natale when te know I could’ve gotten te there!”
Skipper was about to respond, but the image of Marlene crying on Natale because he broke his promise to her—because he was too stubborn to accept Kowalski’s help—when all he had to do was say yes to Kowalski to be there. She was looking inoltrare, avanti to him being there and her one fear was that he wouldn’t make it. He promised her he would and he was already coming close to breaking his promise to her. He broke eye contact and looked at the dashboard.
“Even if I agree to this now,” he detto softly, “I’m not sure how easy it’ll be for me to just let te leave at the airport.”
Kowalski smiled. “Well, in that case, I hope that thick winter cappotto weighs te down so I can outrun you.”
Skipper looked at Kowalski as he relaxed back in his sede, sedile and buckled his seatbelt.
“I guess it’s settled then. We should get going,” he detto turning back to him with a warm smile.
Skipper pressed his lips together and looked at Rico and Private in the backseat. Private was fiddling with his fingertips and looked away when Skipper turned to him. Rico was holding a large chip halfway to his mouth, which was hanging open, and he was looking between Skipper and Kowalski. When Skipper looked at him he awkwardly finished the chip's journey and a loud crunch reverberated throughout the van. Skipper looked at him bitterly and Rico held the bag out to him, offering him a chip. Skipper shook his head and looked at Kowalski.
“I really don’t know what to say, Kowalski. ‘Thank you’ just doesn’t seem to be enough,” he detto softly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kowalski replied. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky and a flight will open up soon.”
“And of course that’d be my luck,” Skipper detto buckling his seatbelt and starting the engine. “Go through all this trouble and then a flight opens up.”
“Well, better not to take the chance,” Kowalski detto as Skipper started pulling out of the parking lot. He stopped to wait for traffic.
“I owe you, Kowalski,” Skipper detto looking at him with serious eyes. “More than te know.”
Kowalski smiled. “Enjoy your Natale with Marlene, Skipper. That’s all the payment I’ll need.”
— § —
“All right, peoples! Let’s keep things moving!” Julien commanded as the zoosters decorated the apartment building’s cafeteria they’d rented out.
“You could help, te know,” Roy asked irritably as he set a candle on a table.
“I am helping! I am being the technical supervisor guy. I’m good at that,” Julien detto smugly. Roy rolled his eyes and continued setting a candle in the middle of the tables. He turned as Marlene walked in with Becky and Stacy.
“Ah! Hello, ladies!” he detto approaching them with open arms. He took Becky and Stacy’s hands. “Enchante, mademoiselles,” he detto baciare each of their hands. Marlene rolled her eyes as Becky and Stacy exchanged a humorous glance.
“Hey, Julien,” Marlene said, “we just came down to see how things were coming, maybe help out a little.”
“Well, of course!” Julien replied. “We are always welcoming three lovely ladies to the party,” he detto suavely, causing Becky and Stacy to smile and Marlene to cock an eyebrow. “Anyway,” Julien continued, “any word from the guys?”
Marlene shifted her weight uncomfortably. “They’ll be here sometime tonight,” she detto trying to hide her anxiety.
Julien knit his eyebrows. “You don’t seem too sure about that,” he observed.
“They’ll be here,” Marlene insisted before walking off.
Julien looked at Becky and Stacy inquisitively, but they just held their hands up like they didn’t want to say anything and followed her.
“Marlene,” Stacy detto tenderly placing a hand her shoulder as she rummaged through a box, “are te sure te want to be down here? I can tell you’re really worried about this.”
“I’m fine,” Marlene insisted. “I just need something to distract me.”
Becky and Stacy exchanged a glance, and then they smiled as the same thought crossed through their minds.
“Then we’ll help,” they detto simultaneously.
Marlene cocked an eyebrow and watched as they crossed the room to where a radio was sitting idle on a table. Becky hit a button and adjusted the frequency, then turned it up loud enough to fill the room with Rockin’ Around the Natale Tree. Everyone turned as Becky and Stacy started moving to the beat.
“I say it’s time for a break!” Becky called. The two crossed the room back to Marlene and each took an arm as they dragged her to the center of the room.
“Whoa, no, guys, I don’t really feel up to—”
“Come on, Marlene!” Becky insisted.
“The only way to make time fly is to have some fun!” Stacy added as they started dancing with her. Soon enough everyone else dropped what they were doing and joined in. While Julien took Stacy and shared a dance with her, Becky continued to encourage Marlene to let loose. Marlene glanced around at everyone around her having a good time and without realizing it, she too was moving to the beat.
With a smile, she decided to forget her troubles, and she danced with all her friends.
— § —
“I’m gonna kill him! I’m gonna kill him!” Skipper detto hitting the steering wheel as they sat idle on the side of the Frozen interstate.
“Well, te know Rico gets hungry when he travels,” Kowalski said, trying to calm him down.
“But we’re already running behind! It seems like everything that could go wrong is going wrong! Is he done yet?” he asked trying to see Rico out of Kowalski’s window. He could just barely see him crouched da a bush, holding his stomach.
Kowalski sighed. “Maybe. Look on the bright side, at least te managed to pull over first,” he said.
Skipper gripped the superiore, in alto of the steering wheel with both hands and rested his forehead on his knuckles. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t look to see who it was.
“Don’t give up hope, Skipper,” detto Private’s voice. “I’m sure we’ll find a way. We always do, don’t we?”
“There’s a first time for everything, Private,” Skipper detto irresolutely.
Private exchanged a glance with Kowalski as Rico climbed back in the car, his face a sickly green.
“How do te feel, Rico?” Kowalski asked.
Rico put his sede, sedile back and turtled into his giacca with a moan.
“I’m going to take that as well enough to sposta on,” Kowalski detto nudging Skipper to put the car in gear.
Skipper sat back and started them moving again. “What time is it?” he asked with a sigh.
Kowalski checked his watch. “Nearly eleven,” he answered.
Skipper scoffed. “We still have just over two hours to drive. There’s no way we’ll be able to pick up our tickets and get through security before the flight leaves.”
“Sorry, Skipper . . .” Rico mumbled in the backseat.
Skipper looked at him in the rearview mirror and sighed. “It’s all right, Rico. It’s not your fault,” he said, “mostly,” he added under his breath.
Kowalski thought for a moment and smiled. “I know, maybe some Natale Musica will help cheer te up.”
He turned on the radio and turned up the volume. He nearly facepalmed when he realized what was playing.
. . . a long road back, and I promise you.
I’ll be home for Christmas.
te can count on me.
Please have snow, and mistletoe
And presents under the tree—
Kowalski awkwardly reached over and changed the station. He smiled; this one wasn’t so bad. He frowned when the chorus started.
. . . tuning up all the Jing-Jing-Jinglin’ sleigh bells
And rehearsing jolly Ho Ho Ho’s
Oh, don’t te know that one way o another
I’ll be coming home for Natale day!
Doesn’t matter any kind of weather
te know that I’ll always find a way!—
This time Skipper reached over and changed the station as Kowalski fiddled with his fingers in his lap.
. . . my own in a big red bow!
Santa, can te hear me?
I have been so good this year.
And all I want is one thing:
Tell me my true Amore is near!
He’s all I want! Just for me!
Underneath my Natale tree!
I’ll be waiting here.
Santa that’s my only wish this year—
Kowalski reached over and switched the radio off. “Maybe later,” he detto with a nervous smile, internally cursing at himself. Of course, the old ‘every station reminds me of my problems’ gag. What a cliché.
— § —
Around half after noon, Marlene and her cousins were elbow deep in flour and cookie dough.
“I’ll get the cookie cutters,” Marlene detto before realizing there was flour all over her hands. She laughed. “Probably should’ve grabbed them before getting the dough ready.”
She grabbed a towel from successivo to the sink and wrapped it around her hand, using it to open a cabinet and pulling out a jar of holiday cookie cutters.
Becky took it from her dumped the contents onto the counter. “Ooh! I want the mistletoe!” she squealed taking that particular cutter and pushing it into her cookie dough. Stacy grabbed an Angel and pressed it into hers.
Marlene looked over the cookie cutters and spotted a snowman and took it in her hands. It reminded her of this one time she had a sinus infection near the holidays. She was miserable and couldn’t do much of anything than eat, sleep, and watch television. Skipper would come check on her when he wasn’t busy with anything. One of those times, he came in and surprised her with a big bucket of snow. The two of them made a tiny snowman together. It left her fingers numb, but she had fun doing it. She pressed the snowman cutter into her dough and promised herself that one would be for Skipper when he returned tonight.
“Everything all right, Marlene?” Becky asked pushing a gingerbread man into her dough.
“Yeah, I just thought of something is all,” Marlene replied pushing a stella, star into hers.
“Well, think about the cookies!” Stacy said. “We’re doing this to keep your mind occupied from certain things and certain people,” she told her giving her a stern look.
Marlene nodded. “Right. The cookies. And thanks for trying to help,” she said.
“No problem, cousin! Think fast!” Becky detto poking her cheek, leaving a spot of flour behind.
“Hey!” Marlene detto trying to reach her face, but she held her wrist. Marlene used her free hand to throw some at her, but some of it landed on Stacy as well.
Eventually the three of them were covered in flour, there biscotti, cookie forgotten.
— § —
“Yes, I was planning a flight to Manhattan at two-thirty, but I’m not going to make it. Can te tell me when the successivo nonstop to Manhattan is?” Skipper asked someone at the Eastern Oregon Regional Airport as he sat idle in traffic just twenty minuti away, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Just a moment,” the woman on the other end said, “looks like the successivo nonstop to Manhattan isn’t until nine-twenty tonight, sir.”
Skipper shoved his tongue into his cheek. “You’re sure there’s nothing earlier?”
“Well, if you’re in a hurry, there’s a three-ten to Scottsbluff, Nebraska and te can take a flight straight from there to Manhattan and be there just after midnight,” she suggested.
Skipper considered. “Can te hold on a moment?”
“Yes, sir.”
Skipper muted his receiver and looked at Private and Rico in the rear view mirror. “The successivo nonstop is at nine-twenty tonight, but she detto there’s a three-ten to Nebraska and take a flight straight from there to Manhattan.”
“Fine with me,” Private answered.
Rico just held up a water bottle, as if in toast, and then downed the rest of it. Skipper took it as a yes.
“Ma’am?” he detto into his phone after unmuting it.
“Yes, sir?” the woman answered.
“Thank te for your help,” Skipper said.
“You’re welcome, sir. Have a wonderful day, and a Merry Christmas!” the woman replied.
“You, too,” Skipper detto before hanging up. “Come on, we’re almost there!” he shouted at the traffic in front of him moving just a couple car lengths every half hour. There was an accident that’d occurred ahead because of the ice and the policemen had to gradually direct traffic into the right lane.
Rico reached a Hershey baciare around his seat. “Kiss?” he offered.
Skipper rolled his eyes. “No,” he declined. Then he thought for a moment. “Yes,” he detto holding his hand back to him. Rico dropped a baciare into it. He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. He let the Cioccolato melt in his mouth.
“Skipper, it’s only one-thirty,” Kowalski said. “We’re not too far off. In fact, I think I see our exit right up there,” he detto pointing down the road.
Skipper thought for a moment. “Hey, Private,” he called.
“Yes, Skipper?” Private called back.
“Do me a favor. Climb to the back of the furgone, van and find my suitcase. My badge is in the small pocket in the front. Get it for me,” he told him.
“Um, okay,” Private detto unbuckling his seatbelt. “Why?”
“Just do it, all right?” Skipper replied.
Private climbed between the seats and rummaged through the luggage in the back. A couple minuti later, he produced Skipper’s badge and he turned around. “Here it is.”
“Climb back in your seat,” Skipper said. Private did as told and buckled himself back in. He handed Skipper his badge. “Thanks. Now everyone hold on.”
The team exchanged a glance.
Kowalski looked at him warily. “Why do we have to hold on?”
Skipper smiled. “Let’s just say I’m glad we had to get in the right lane,” he detto as he pulled the car to the right and started driving down the emergency lane.
“Skipper! This is illegal! I shouldn’t have to tell te that, you’re a cop!” Kowalski scolded.
Skipper clenched his teeth. “I know that, Kowalski. I’m not proud of it, but it’s Christmas, and I made a promise to Marlene. If I get pulled over, I’ll just mostra ‘em my badge and sposta on.”
“Skipper, you’re abusing your shield! That’s illegal, too!” Kowalski argued.
“You think I don’t know that, Kowalski?” Skipper detto turning at the Exit. “It’s once in seventeen years of service! Let it go.”
Kowalski laughed incredulously and ran his hand over his face. “Could te at least slow down? The flight leaves at three-ten not in ten minutes. That’s another law you’re breaking, da the way.”
Skipper rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he detto easing off the gas. But before he got the chance, a flash of blue and red lights blinked behind them. Skipper was expecting that to happen with the policemen dealing with the accident on the interstate. He pulled over and waited for the officer to come to his door before rolling down his window.
“License and registration, please,” she asked. She was a corpulento, birra di malto African American woman with her head covered in a thick hat that covered the superiore, in alto of her small ears. Her nametag read MEREB.
Skipper showed her his badge. “Ma’am, I’m police. I need to be somewhere.”
Mereb examined his badge. “That’s a New York Police badge, sir. Why are te in Oregon? più importantly, why are te in Oregon trying to use your New York badge to get out of a speeding ticket?”
“I—I’m tracking a lead, ma’am,” he lied.
Mereb narrowed her eyes. “And who are they?” she asked pointing to the other three in the car.
“They’re my unit. They came with me,” Skipper answered.
Mereb set her jaw in thought. “Let me get your badge number and confermare this. Which precinct do te work for?”
Skipper blinked. “Ma’am, we’re in a hurry here. If we don’t go now, we could miss our lead.”
In the passenger seat, Kowalski fidgeted. He hated Skipper lowering himself to lying to a policemen, especially when he was one himself, but he understood why he was doing it. He made a promise to Marlene, and he never broke his promises. He sighed.
“Officer,” he called. Mereb leaned down so she could see him. “Please. If we don’t catch this lead and solve this case, we can’t go home. My son wants me home for Christmas, and I want to be there,” he lied.
Mereb looked down for a moment, and then sighed. “Fine. Consider this a Natale warning. Go on,” she detto before walking back to her vehicle without waiting for a reply.
Skipper looked at him. “Thanks,” he detto with a grateful smile. “I’m sorry I lied . . . again.”
Kowalski looked at the road in front of them. “Don’t worry about it. It’s Christmas,” he detto looking toward him with an understanding smile. “We should go. But, uh, go the speed limit, all right?” he added with a grin.
Skipper put the car in gear. “Fine, if te want to take the fun out of everything,” he detto with a laugh.
Private pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m really confused, are te two still mad at each other o are we okay now?”
Skipper and Kowalski laughed. Private propped his head up da his fist.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” he muttered.
— § —
At the airport, Skipper, Rico, and Private grabbed their luggage from the rental, which consisted of one suitcase and one carry-on each, and started their goodbye’s to Kowalski.
Private hugged him. “I’ll miss you, Kowalski! I hope te make it home for Christmas!” he told him.
Kowalski patted his back. “Don’t worry about me, Private. I’ll see te soon.”
Rico grasped his hand and pressed his shoulder to his, using his other hand to pat his back. “Miss you, buddy,” he said.
“Miss you, too, Rico,” Kowalski detto patting his back. They parted and Kowalski turned to Skipper, who was looking at the ground.
“Can te guys, uh, give us a minute?” he requested.
Private and Rico exchanged a glance and nodded as they gathered their luggage and made their way inside the airport.
“Look, Kowalski, I—”
“I know what you’re going to say, Skipper,” Kowalski interrupted. “You don’t need to—”
“No, te don’t know what I’m going to say,” Skipper detto looking at him with crisp, blue eyes. He crossed his arms and didn’t meet his eye. “I know I’m not perfect. There are things in my past I wish I could change. I just wanted te to know that—” He paused and finally made eye contact. “I wanted te to know that what you’re doing for me now is . . . It’s something I could never repay, not fully. I really don’t know how to thank you, Kowalski. I don’t deserve a friend like you.”
Kowalski smiled. “I don’t believe that. Besides, Skipper, we’re brothers. Whether te deserve one like me o not, you’re stuck with me,” he detto bracing a hand on his shoulder.
Skipper smiled and they embraced. “I hope to see te in Manhattan real soon,” he detto over his shoulder.
“You, too, Skipper. Now, go. Marlene’s waiting for you,” he told him pulling away.
Skipper nodded and grabbed his luggage. “See te on the other side of the nation, Kowalski,” he said.
Kowalski gave a salute and Skipper ran off into the airport.
He found Private and Rico waiting in line to get their tickets. Rico was munching on a granola bar.
“Where are te getting all this food?” Skipper asked. Rico opened up his duffel bag to reveal all kinds of snacks. Skipper rolled his eyes. “Of course. Got any Dibbles? I’m starving,”
“Regular o spicy?” Rico asked through his granola bar.
Skipper cocked an eyebrow. “Uh, regular, I guess.”
Rico reached into the bag and despite it’s jumbled mess, he pulled out a bag of Cheezy Dibbles as if each thing had it’s own specific place and handed it to him. Skipper accepted it in and opened it, popping a Dibble into his mouth.
“What time is it?” he asked between crunches.
Private looked at his cell phone. “Just past two. We might just make it,” he detto with a smile.
Skipper licked cheese off his fingers and rolled up the superiore, in alto of the bag before putting it in his giacca pocket. He picked up his luggage and they moved inoltrare, avanti with the line. Skipper looked at the flight board and found the Pendleton to Scottsbluff. successivo to it read “ON TIME” in big letters. Skipper smiled. “I’m on my way, Marlene,” he detto softly to himself.
At the desk, a woman sat behind it wearing square, black glasses with her blonde hair tied back in a knot. She was wearing a red Natale sweater with tiny reindeer all over it, running in different directions.
“Three for the three-ten to Scottsbluff, Nebraska, please,” Skipper requested.
“Photo identification, please,” the woman requested in a Bronx accent. Skipper, Rico, and Private all handed her their driver’s licenses. After processing them, she said, “Twelve hundred thirty dollars, sir. Cash o credit?”
“Credit,” Skipper detto with a sigh. This was eating up his savings. He scanned his credit card and paid the bill. The woman told them to be through the gates prior to ten minuti before departure. Soon after, the three of them were moving toward the successivo security checkpoint with their boarding passes.
After getting through the metal detectors, they found their gate just as they were almost finished boarding. Skipper checked the time on his phone; it was just a few minuti until three.
“Hey, te two go ahead and board, I just want to call Marlene for a few secondi before we take off,” he told them. Private and Rico nodded and gave their boarding passes to the man at the gate and continued on to the plane.
Skipper took out his cell and dialed Marlene.
“Skipper?” Marlene answered.
“Yeah, it’s me. Just letting te know I’m boarding a plane to Nebraska now, and I’ll catch a flight to Manhattan from there. I’ll be there sometime in the middle of the night,” Skipper told her.
Marlene sighed with relief. “That’s great! I’m so glad. I can’t wait to see you.”
Skipper smiled. “You, too, Marlene.”
“Last call for boarding at Gate 14,” detto a voice over the intercom.
“Look, Marlene, I need to go. I’ll see te later,” Skipper said.
“All right, Skipper. See you,” she detto hanging up.
Skipper turned his phone off and tucked it into his pocket. He turned to head for the gate when he realized he didn’t have his boarding pass and felt a momentary sense of panic, but sighed with relief when he realized he’d dropped it a few yards behind him. He picked it up and turned back, his stomach turning over when he saw the man at the gate pulling the door shut.
“Wait!” he called breaking into a sprint for the door. “Wait, this is my flight.”
“Sorry, we just boarded. te should’ve came earlier,” the man—who was much larger than Skipper, da the way—said looking down at him.
“Sir, please, I had to drive all the way from Seattle last minuto because the snow is too heavy up there for any flights. My girlfriend’s in Manhattan, I promised I’d be there. Please,” he begged.
“I’m sorry, sir, the gate is closed. They’ll be pulling the airstairs away from the plane now. There’s nothing I can do,” he said.
Skipper scoffed and put his face in his free hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he detto under his breath. “Thanks anyway,” he detto turning and trudging back through the airport. Let’s see here, Skipper thought, Kowalski sacrificed going home for Natale for nothing, four hundred ten dollars down the drain, wasted time, and another plan to get home failed. He went back to the ticket desk.
“Can I help you?” asked the woman with the glasses.
“Yes,” Skipper answered in an urgent tone, “I missed the flight. I need to know of flights that will land me in Manhattan da tomorrow.”
The woman worked at her computer for a moment. “Well, the snowstorms have been getting worse throughout the northern regions. Many flights have either been delayed o cancelled. The earliest I see is a four-twenty to Bloomington, Illinois, take a flight from there to Manhattan,” she explained.
Skipper let out an anxious breath. “How long will that take?”
“About five to six hours, if te go straight through,” she answered.
“And the cost?” Skipper asked with a wince.
“Just you?” the woman followed up. Skipper nodded weakly. “Probably looking at about six hundred dollars.”
Skipper nodded slowly. “I guess there’s no way I’m getting my money back for this, right?” he detto holding up his boarding pass.
The woman shook her head. “No refunds. Sorry.”
Skipper nodded again. “Figured. Thanks,” he detto turning and walking to a waiting area. He set his was-to-be carry-on bag on the ground and sat down a couple seats away from a man talking to someone on the phone. He seemed upset. Skipper pulled out his phone and turned it back on, and then called Kowalski.
“Hello?” answered Kowalski’s voice.
“Hey. It’s me,” Skipper replied.
“Skipper? Shouldn’t te be on board?” Kowalski asked.
Skipper closed his eyes. “Kowalski, this isn’t easy to say, but I missed the flight. I let Private and Rico board, and I was just going to call Marlene for just a minuto to let her know I was going to be there soon, and da the time I turned around, they were shutting the gates. I feel like the biggest idiot on earth. I’m so sorry, Kowalski. te sacrificed going home for me, and I blew it.”
He heard Kowalski sigh. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad. To be honest, I feel too sorry for te to be upset. I know te were so happy to have a way back to Manhattan. Did te check to see if there were any più flights available soon?”
“Yeah. She detto my best bet to get to Manhattan as quick as possible is to take a plane to Bloomington, Illinois, and then to Manhattan. I don’t have enough money for that.”
“How much money do te have? I thought te had quite a bit saved up,” Kowalski asked.
“I did,” Skipper detto feeling the outline of something in his pocket, “but plane tickets are expensive. I’m down to about four hundred bucks.”
There was a brief pause. “Well, as much as it pains me to suggest this,” Kowalski detto regretfully, “Julien has più money than he knows what to do with. Why don’t te ask him for some money to buy the plane tickets?”
Skipper busted out laughing. “Oh, whew! That’s funny, Kowalski. I guess that’s one way to get me to laugh at a time like this.”
“Um, actually, I was serious. I’d offer some money myself, but um,” he started with a laugh, “I kind of still owe Alice for that hole I blew in her bacheca from that experiment gone wrong, heh. She isn’t letting it slide just because it’s Christmas.”
Skipper sighed. “I don’t know, Kowalski. I’ve never had to ask anyone for money before, let alone Julien. What makes te think he’ll help me, anyway?”
“While te two may have your differences, I assure you, he’d want te there for Christmas. And maybe te could tug his cuore strings a little da telling him te want to be there with Marlene,” Kowalski suggested.
Skipper cringed at the thought of asking Julien for help—especially financial help.
“Come on, Skipper. ingoiare, inghiottire your pride this one time. For Marlene,” Kowalski urged.
Skipper tensed as he forced the words out. “Fine. I’ll—call Julien,” he finished through his teeth. “Goodbye, Kowalski.”
“Over and out,” Kowalski detto before ending the call.
Skipper took a deep breath and searched through his contacts for “Man Child.” But just before he sent the call to Julien, the man that was on the phone when he’d sat down scooted successivo to him.
“Excuse me,” he detto in a hillbilly-sounding accent. Not one you’d expect from a man in Oregon.
“Um,” Skipper detto awkwardly looking around to ensure he was talking to him, “do I know you?”
“No,” the man detto shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear, did te say te wanted a flight to Bloomington?”
Skipper’s cuore fluttered. “Y-es? Can te help me?”
The man laughed. “Gomer Cummings,” he detto holding out his hand. “I was supposed to fly to see my brother, Bo, for Christmas, and he detto he was in DeKalb. Why, I thought he meant DeKalb, Illinois, but naw, he meant DeKalb, Texas. Sure makes a whole lot più sense since we’re southern folk, te know? But now I got this ticket and ain’t got no use for it. The lady at the scrivania, reception says no refunds. If te want it, you’re welcome to it. I’d hate to see my money go to waste,” he detto holding out his boarding pass to him.
Skipper eyed the boarding pass as if it were a juicy tenderloin. Then he looked at Gomer. “Are te sure? te don’t even know me.”
“Well, te look like a man that wants to be home on Christmas, and I got no business in Illinois,” he replied, pronouncing the ‘s’ in ‘Illinois.’ “Take it.”
Skipper took the pass in his hand. “Thank you, sir. I really don’t know what to say.” His eyes glossed over.
“Aw, it wasn’t that big a thang, mister. No use leakin’ your eyes ‘bout it,” Gomer detto putting a hand on his shoulder.
Skipper shook his head. “No, te don’t understand. te just saved me from doing something horrible! Thank you!” he detto throwing his arms around him.
Gomer awkwardly patted his back. “No—problem, mister. I, uh, really should go, now.”
Skipper let go. “Sorry,” he detto with a sniffle. “Merry Christmas.”
“You, too,” Gomer detto with a smile. He stood up and left him.
Skipper looked at the boarding pass in his hands and smiled. “I’m on my way, Marlene.”
— § —
Three thousand feet up, Private walked through the cabins of the plane, looking for Skipper. When he couldn’t find him, he went to Rico, who was sitting in an aisle sede, sedile eating a bag of airline peanuts.
“Rico, have te seen Skipper? I can’t find him anywhere,” he said.
Rico shook his head and threw back another handful of peanuts.
“You don’t think he didn’t board, do you?” Private asked shifting his weight with worry.
Rico shrugged. “Sure he’s here somewhere,” he detto passively. He offered him some peanuts.
Private shook his head. “No, I’m going to call him on the airline phone. If he’s still in Pendleton, he’ll answer.”
He turned on his heel and found a phone on the bacheca of the plane. He dialed Skipper’s number and waited as the dial tone droned in his ear.
“Hello?” detto Skipper’s voice.
“Skipper, it’s Private. Where are you? I can’t find te on the plane, and I know your cell phone isn’t working up here,” Private said.
“I’m sorry, Private, it’s one thing after another. After my call with Marlene they shut the gates on me. They wouldn’t let me through. I’m taking a four-twenty to Illinois and I’ll catch a flight to Manhattan from there,” Skipper explained. “Just stick with going to Scottsbluff and keep going to Manhattan from there. All right? Don’t worry about me.”
“Oh, well, I wish te luck. I would hate for te to not make it and on superiore, in alto of that, be all alone for Christmas,” Private detto uneasily.
“Will te shh!” Skipper scolded. “I’ve had enough bad luck without te jinxing me!”
“Sorry, Skipper! Do te want me to knock on wood?” Private asked.
Skipper sighed. “No, I’m sorry, Private. I’m just anxious. Every time I find a way home, it goes wrong.”
“It’s okay, Skipper. I understand. Be careful, okay?,” Private told him.
“I will, Private. Enjoy the flight,” Skipper replied.
“I’ll try. te as well. Bye, Skipper. I’ll—see te in Manhattan?” Private detto with a touch of hope.
There was a pause. “Yeah. See te in Manhattan, Private,” Skipper’s voice replied, although it didn’t sound like he had much confidence in it. The line went dead and Private hung the phone back on the bacheca and returned to Rico to explain the situation.
“You really believe he’s gonna make it?” Rico asked with his mouth full of peanuts.
Private thought for a moment. “I hope so.”
— § —
“Do te want to build a snowman?” Becky sang as she, Stacy, and Marlene packed snow together, all bundled up in warm clothing, thick coats, hats, gloves, and scarves.
“Or ride our bikes around the halls?” Stacy joined in.
“I think some company is overdue, I’ve started talking to the pictures on the walls!” Marlene chimed.
“Hang in there, Joan!” they all detto together.
“It gets a little lonely, all these empty rooms, just watching the hours tick by,” they sang together. They commenced a series of tic-toc’s and then broke into laughter as their snowman reached completion. Stacy left to find some arms for it.
“Gosh, I Amore that movie,” Marlene detto with a smile as she started assorting rocks on the head of a snowman to make a smiley face. “Anybody have a spare carrot?” she asked with a grin.
“The one giorno I don’t keep a stash in my back pocket,” Becky joked.
Stacy came back with two long, thin sticks and stuck them in either side of the midsection.
“Yay! Now he can like warm hugs!” she detto cheerfully.
Marlene smiled. “I have a couple carrots in my fridge. I’ll be right back,” she detto walking toward the apartment building.
When she got to her room, she went into the cucina and extracted a carrot from her fridge. She shut the door and froze when she saw the picture of her and Skipper stuck on the refrigerator door da a magnet. It was a foto from her twenty-ninth birthday. Skipper had taken her out on the terrace and kissed her, and someone had followed them and snapped a picture. She and Skipper were a bit embarrassed when they saw it, but Marlene couldn’t find it in her cuore to cancella it. She smiled at the memory, but it quickly faded. Even though Skipper had told her he was on his way this very minute, she couldn’t help but feel that something had went wrong, o was going to go wrong. She pushed the thought from her mind.
Back outside, Becky and Stacy had started a snowball fight with a few other residents from the apartment building Marlene recognized as Mason, Phil, and Roger. Marlene stuck the carrot in the center of the snowman’s face, but quickly had to take cover behind it when Stacy started attacking her with the fluffy, white ice.
“Hey!” she cried. She scooped up two snowballs and launched them from behind the snowman. One caught Stacy in the shoulder and the other just barely missed Phil. Becky started chasing her around the snowman, throwing snowballs as she went.
“I’m gonna turn te into a snow-woman!” Becky threatened with a laugh.
Marlene threw a snowball at her. “Well, I’m turning te into a snow angel because I kill this game!” she shot back, stumbling over her feet.
Becky laughed and was about to launch another snowball at Marlene when she noticed Mason aiming a snowball at her and she moved out of the way. The snowball flew past her and hit the snowman in the head, knocking off the nose that Marlene had just gave it. Marlene, Becky, and Stacy exchanged a glance.
“Baby unicorn killer!” Stacy cried charging toward him with a snowball in each hand.
“I don’t even know what that me-e-eans!” Mason cried as he took off running with the ladies chasing after him, throwing snowballs as they went.
