Page 23 of Sweet Silver Bells

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

“ W e stood behind a group of people for a long time. Most of them were very young, crying because there was no whipped cream on the hot chocolate,” Olivia told Hunter with her hand back in his.

As Nina and Tom bickered about the gingerbread house debacle, their group marched through the holiday market.

Where was the trick, the hidden agenda? There was too much potential for Hunter to feel happy, or dare he say even normal. Here he was, with his coworkers, some he even considered friends, and a girlfriend, dare he say, that he was holding onto tightly.

“There was a sickeningly happy song playing repeatedly while a giant machine adorned with horrifying statues of animals spun in a circle. When we got to the front of the line, we sat on those animal statues. Mine was a whimsical sheep that was absolutely deranged, its eyes dead and its smile too large.”

“I told you she was awesome,” Celia said, her black skirt swishing as she and Elaine skipped up ahead.

This is going well. You can relax.

The town square was at the end of the street, and they were headed right toward it, passing new vendors.

Darius stopped to get another beer. Hunter offered Olivia one, which she immediately crinkled her nose at, but seemed entirely more interested in the hot roasted cashews that Sadie forced them to pull over for.

The band near the Christmas tree was taking down their setup as a women's choir wearing all black, bundled up in puffy jackets, took over the area. They arranged themselves in rows as people below the steps huddled together to watch.

“I’ve probably got another half an hour in me, then I’m going to head out,” Darius announced, his steps getting a little wobbly.

“How about you let me get you a driver to take you home, my man,” Hunter said. “We can all band together and make sure everyone gets their cars in the morning if they need to leave them here.”

“We don’t drink and are happy to help carpool,” Nina chipped in.

“Does she expect an award?” Sadie muttered, mouth clenched, on Hunter’s free side.

“Play nice, Sadie.” Hunter nudged her, pulling Olivia into him as his weight shifted.

“So, Olivia, what do you do?” Darius asked, nodding toward Hunter.

He appreciated the subject change. There was an odd hostility lingering in the air, and, funnily enough, it didn’t have anything to do with the woman he thought he had dug a grave for earlier in the day.

He could feel it pressing at the edges of his patience, but when he looked at her, he realized it wasn’t her fault.

Any frustration he had existed only in the questions he didn’t have answers for.

It surprised him, this lack of blame. He wasn’t sure if it made him a fool or something worse.

Either way, changing the subject felt easier than explaining any of it out loud.

“She just moved here, Darius; give a girl some room to breathe,” Elaine said, her voice airy, cool, and unbothered as she looked up at the sky.

“I take care of trees.” Olivia surprised Hunter by engaging. He hadn’t heard her say much to anyone else that wasn’t him. Elaine and Celia seemed to make her comfortable, then.

“You’re an arborist? That is honestly the most amazing thing I think I’ve ever heard.” Darius’s face broke out in pure amazement, a child filled with hopes and dreams on Christmas morning. “Are you looking for work? Who hires arborists? Is it the city?”

Olivia blinked at him in the way she did while their group continued to walk past more stands, more tables filled with the late-night crowd who appeared with too many mules already in their bellies.

“Olivia is more of a soloist, aren’t you?” Hunter smiled.

She nodded.

“Ah, an entrepreneur. How fetching. You’re making me jealous, Olivia. I need to dream bigger.”

Darius sighed.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Celia said, walking a few steps in front of them. “You’re young, you're attractive, you’re obnoxiously passionate. Just be careful not to wallow; you attract the same energy you put into the world. Oops, sorry, Hunter.”

“Sorry for what?” Hunter's attention was elsewhere, staring down at Olivia’s hand in his, at the way her finger rubbed little circles around the outside of his thumb.

“I think Hunter is attracting the exact attention that he needs.” Olivia’s sweet voice coated his ears.

I certainly am.

“Ooooh, Hunter and Olivia kissing in a tree,” Sadie started dancing.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Nina joined in, her head bobbing like a maniac.

Hunter and Olivia smiled at each other. He laughed as she looked down awkwardly, not knowing how to handle the attention and energy, despite how playful it was. They were awfully loud.

“It’s easy to tell you all work with children.” Elaine rolls her eyes.

At least they’re not making fun of me about pickles today.

“Watch out for his pickle, Olivia!” Sadie spat her laughter out.

I stand corrected.

“These are friends?” Olivia looked at him, genuinely asking.

“Unfortunately, I would argue that I have better friends than most.”

New light patterns hit the pavement under their feet as they approached the towering Christmas tree in the town square.

Their pace slowed even further as a crowd gathered to listen to the choir, and judging by the conductor raising her hands and framing an overextended jaw, pointing to the roof of her mouth, they were about to start.

“Sarah would have loved that tree,” Sadie said out of nowhere.

“Why would you say that?” Hunter didn’t get an answer as an eruption of music weaved all around them, the staccato notes harmonizing with a sole male tenor who walked up to stand by the female conductor. Her hands waved so dramatically that it seemed like a joke.

“Ding, dong, ding, dong.”

“Oh,” Olivia gasped. “This song.”

“Are you okay?” Hunter asked, feeling her arm tighten against him. He looked over at her, her face matching someone’s who could fall apart at any moment.

“This is my song. Our song,” Olivia muttered.

The choir’s onomatopoeias turned into lyrics.

"Hark, how the bells

Sweet silver bells"

“Our song?” Hunter tried to keep her talking, keep her breathing. The tenseness that was in her body a moment ago suddenly fled as she fell limp against him.

“My dad. It’s why he’s dead. This song.”

“Aw, your dad died? I’m so sorry, honey,” Nina interjected as Olivia started to shake.

Hunter had heard her sing it before, more than once, but he’d never considered it meant anything specific to her, other than being a Christmas song from long ago. Most of the ones he knew were a bit more modern.

“Olivia, you don’t have to fall apart. I’m here, I’ve got you,” he whispered in her ear. Unfortunately, that did not help, as a flood of tears soaked her cheeks, the salty water reflecting greens, whites, and golds from the lights on the tree, the garlands, and the street lamps.

She was a painted doll, filled with sadness, a moon who was grieving.

A moon.

Hunter remembered his gift and pulled the necklace from his jacket pocket, wrapped in blue tissue paper.

“This reminded me of you. I wanted you to have it,” he said, holding it out to her. She didn’t look at it; her eyes focused on the choir and the song that continued. Hunter could see a memory playing out on her face, something horrific, the day her world fell apart.

Olivia reached out and placed her hand on top of Hunter’s in order to grab the necklace. She gripped it hard, her fist so tight.

“All seem to say

Throw cares away

Ding, dong, ding, dong

That is the song.”

He had no notice, no training, no idea how to respond as it unfolded. Olivia’s lips twitched and tears streamed steadily down her face. Hunter’s coworkers looked at her, some concerned, some stepping awkwardly back, bumping into random bystanders who had closed in behind their small group.

She sang. She sang with them.

“Hawk, how the bells

Sweet Silver Bells.”

Olivia’s song looped in harmony with theirs. Her voice was soft at first, but as she continued, it grew louder. Nervous faces turned to look at her.

No, not nervous, scared, compliant.

The familiar haze that coaxed Hunter into a state of happy, blind obedience, that convinced him that what he wanted to do more than anything else was what Olivia commanded, snuck its way back into his mind.

The spell of the song, the magic in her voice, dropped any personality from the crowd’s gazes, expressions now empty and vacant. Hunter’s mind continued to fight and recognized that intrusive magic was invading, an unwelcome guest.

This wasn’t intentional. Hunter sensed that instantly. Unlike her song in his home when he had buried the TV, Hunter could hold on to consciousness, though he felt it slipping a little more with every breath, a rope he desperately hung onto as he climbed up a cliff engulfed in thick, eerie fog.

He took in his group of friends. Darius had straightened up like a soldier waiting for orders.

Nina and Tom had their heads tilted like living dolls in a horror movie, nothing behind their stares.

Elaine and Celia looked nearly the same, though there was something different about their lips—less defiance, less of a grimace at the corners of their mouths.

He wondered if he looked like any of them, or if he had more awareness.

No one was looking at him, no one noticed that he was glancing around, but the entire crowd had now turned away from the choir, their attention on her, on Olivia with the moon and stars in her hair, with the necklace Hunter had given her still squeezed in her hand.

Olivia choked between sobs, but continued to sing. However, one by one, the choir fell under her spell. Hunter could focus on her voice, the overpowering vibrato coming from the group fading more and more until they were merely background singers.

This was Olivia’s show now.