A Christmas Hope (18 page)

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Authors: Joseph Pittman

BOOK: A Christmas Hope
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“No, Elsie,” he said with a shake of his head, fighting back tears. “It's the entire reason I came back to Linden Corners. As you said, it's time for the past to meet the present, and I only hope this book is enough.”
C
HAPTER
14
N
ORA
S
he listened to the plan and thought they had both lost their minds.
This was not a day to go trekking through the woods to chop down a tree.
“Mom, it's freezing out. Ten degrees, last I heard.”
Gerta Connors, seventy-five years young and with a determined mind of her own, simply waved off her daughter's worries. “Nonsense, Nora, if you wait until the weather improves then you'll be celebrating Christmas in July. Besides, I promised Travis he could help cut down the tree. . . .”
“Mom! That could be dangerous. You should have consulted me.”
“Goodness, your reaction, Nora. It's just a saw, no one's talking about using an ax. And Travis said he would be careful, and besides, we'll have plenty of help around us, Green's Tree Farm has a sterling reputation. Albert, Sr., himself has been running the place for more than thirty years. I've certainly never heard of any accidents occurring there.” Then, placing a comforting hand upon her daughter's shoulder, Gerta offered up a bit of advice whether Nora wanted to hear it or not. “Dear, you have to let the boy grow up. With his father away doing whatever it is he needs to do to find himself, Travis has got to learn he's responsible for his own happiness—and I don't know a better influence on such matters than his headstrong mother. Look at what you've accomplished already in coming back to Linden Corners—for yourself and for him.”
“Now you're just manipulating me,” she said.
Gerta shrugged, a knowing grin making her gray eyes dance. “I'm a mother, it's what we do. Something you should know by now. Nora, you may be a grown-up, but I'm still the mother, so I'm telling you right now to go upstairs and get properly dressed for the day. We'll be outside in the cold most of it, and we don't want to disappoint Travis. That poor boy has been talking about nothing else all week, he said he'd never chopped down his own tree before, you always bought yours at the stand by the grocery store.”
“Until Dave realized a few years ago he had an allergy and we went artificial,” Nora said, realizing the tree metaphor could also be used to describe the state of her marriage. She would have laughed had she found the irony even remotely funny.
“Well, Dave's not here and until he is, Travis gets a real tree,” Gerta said. “A visit up to the Berkshires is just what this little family of ours needs to put us in the holiday spirit.”
As Nora started up the stairs, Travis came bounding down them, nearly crashing into her. He was all bundled up, his parka making him look like the Michelin Man, big and puffy, and the color on his cheeks made him seem like he'd already spent too much time outside. Nora knew it was the flush of excitement, and seeing him leap off the landing and practically fall into the arms of his grandmother she felt a wave of affection. Her mother was right, today was all about Travis, and even though it was a Saturday and she should be opening up the store, what were a couple of hours to play hooky in the snow-encrusted woods? She was back downstairs in a matter of minutes and ready for their adventure.
“Okay, Travis, ready for the checklist? Hat, scarf, mittens.”
“Check, check, and sort of check. I have gloves, since Grandma says they'll give my fingers better flexibility,” he said, raising his hands in the air to show his thick woolen gloves.
“Sounds like a plan. Mom? You ready?”
“Oh, I'm all set, just waiting for our ride.”
“Our ride? We'll just all pile into the Mustang and . . . oh wait, that reminds me, we need some rope to tie the tree to the roof . . . or will Mr. Green take care of that?”
“Oh no, Nora dear, you don't understand. We have company today, so you won't have to worry about the tree. We'll just put it in the truck along with theirs.”
Nora felt a sense of dread; wasn't this just a family day?
Just then the crunch of tires on frozen snow could be heard, along with the honk of a horn. Nora peered out the living room curtains, saw the familiar old truck come to a stop. Brian Duncan emerged from the driver's side, helping Janey down from the passenger seat like she was used to it. She was bundled up like the rest of them, with only Brian less than prepared for the cold, his jacket open to reveal a simple shirt and no sweater. Did the man not even own a scarf, she wondered, and then wondered again why she was even worrying. He wants to freeze, let him.
“Brian Duncan, you'll catch your death,” Gerta said as she opened the door.
“At least he's wearing a hat, that's how you know it's cold,” Janey added. “Otherwise, he does not set a very good example on how to dress for winter. Sometimes I need to be the adult.”
“Well, at least I've taught you how to be that,” Brian said.
“I'm an adult, too,” Travis piped in. “I'm going to chop down our tree.”
The two kids chatted amiably about Brian's misadventures with the ax last year, even as they eagerly hopped into the backseat of the truck. Nora found herself stuffed in the middle of the front seats, the conversation between Gerta and Brian making her feel like she was watching a tennis match, with commentary from the row behind messing with her concentration. This day wasn't shaping up in any way she'd envisioned, and truthfully, she had other things on her mind.
Four days of bitter cold temperatures had passed since she had handed Thomas the book he'd asked her to find, and his quiet reaction was something she'd given much thought to since. As much as he had tried to mask it, she knew he was disappointed that all she had found was a facsimile edition of the book, published within the last twenty years. He'd attempted to assuage her guilt by saying she had performed a near miracle in finding even this edition, but she knew it was just hollow praise. What, exactly, should she do about it? Continue her search, and even if by some spark of inspiration she did begin again, could she ever hope to find the book in time for his deadline? From the start, Thomas's request had come with a ticking clock, even if he wasn't willing to admit to her the reason why. Even now, she still didn't understand the book's significance beyond it having been a gift from his father. It wasn't like she had months to keep searching for the original, Christmas was looming, and she needed no further proof than today— lights lining houses stretching beyond the village, the five of them en route to chopping down their own trees. No doubt their trip would lead to an afternoon of decorating, perhaps dinner with Brian and Janey, and before long she would have lost yet another day.
“You're quiet today, Nora,” she heard Brian say, breaking her from her thoughts.
“Sorry, I've just got a few things on my mind,” she said.
“Care to share? Still got another ten miles till we reach Green's Tree Farm.”
“Just drive,” she said.
With a free hand, he saluted her. “Yes, ma'am.”
Gerta chuckled. “Don't even try, Brian, she's been in a mood for days.”
“I have not!” Nora protested.
“Mom has trouble relaxing.”
“Hey, you know, I do know how to wield an ax,” Nora said with mock protest.
“And just think, when the police arrest you, you already know a good defense attorney,” Brian responded.
Everyone in the close confines of the truck laughed aloud, except Nora, of course, but then she couldn't help but laugh, too, when Janey said, “What does wield mean?”
The mood in the truck much lightened, they made their way up the winding roads that took them beyond Linden Corners and neighboring villages Craryville and Hillsdale, the latter the largest of the villages in this part of Columbia County. Northward they turned, gradually pushing up Route 22 toward the border between New York State and Massachusetts and the lush countryside of the often misty Berkshire Mountains. Nora gazed out the windshield, admitting to herself how beautiful it all looked, like a postcard. Sure the air outside was freezing, but from the truck the expansive sky looked like blue crystal, and the rocky terrain was so different from the verdant, low-lying Linden Corners it was amazing to her they'd only driven a short distance.
At last they turned into the large lot at Green's Tree Farm, parking amidst many other cars and SUVs, where they unloaded themselves and their supplies from the truck. The jolly, old Albert Green, Sr., greeted them warmly, giving Janey and Travis extra attention. He even remarked that he remembered Janey from last year, with her scrunching up her nose in that way that even Nora had come to recognize.
“You do?” Janey asked.
“Think this round belly of mine and white beard is pretend?”
“That does not make you Santa,” she said matter-of-factly. “He lives at the North Pole.”
“Cold enough today, we might as well be living there,” he said with a hearty laugh of ho, ho, ho. “Okay, you all have yourselves a nice expedition up into my hills, I'll be here when you get back, give you some instructions . . .”
“I know, I know, on how to care for it so well, it'll keep alive through June,” Janey said. “That's what you said last year.”
“And the same holds true this year, little lady.”
Again, she scrunched her nose. “I still don't know why . . .”
“Why you'd want to have a tree in your house that long,” he said, leaning down to tap a cold finger upon her red nose. “See, I told you I remembered you.”
“That still doesn't mean you're Santa Claus,” Janey said, and that's when Brian stepped in and told her enough with the chattering, let's not waste any more time finding our trees.
“Before it's our teeth that are doing all the chattering,” Gerta added.
And so the five of them began the trek up winding, snowy paths. Travis dashed ahead with his strong athleticism, Janey's little legs trying in vain to keep up with his long strides. Nora remarked to herself how much her son had grown in the six weeks since they'd arrived in Linden Corners, with his voice deeper and his body developing a sinewy grace. Just then she heard her own knee crack as she bent down to clear random sticks that hindered her mother's progress. If Travis was getting older, she had to admit, so was she.
“Grandma, come look at this one, do you think it's too tall . . . ?”
Travis took hold of Gerta's hand and led her gently up a side path to where he'd picked one out of the tallest pine trees around. It looked all the more taller with the two kids dancing around its base. Janey was pointing upward at its top and wondering how they would get the angel positioned there, with Gerta adding maybe the angel would just have to fly there, and that sparked a whole fresh debate among the three of them. As laughter and squeals of delight filled the fresh-smelling canyons, pines and firs lined up like sentries, Nora felt a chill seep beneath her zippered coat.
“You cold?”
“Aren't you, Brian?”
He shrugged indifferently. “I've grown impervious to the cold. Guess I've gotten used to the winters up here, I'm fine.”
“It's so cold, I doubt even snowmen would want to venture outdoors,” she said, “and yet . . . here we are. I don't know how my mother does it, must be the fact she's lived here all her life. As you said, impervious.”
“Speaking of, how goes things with Thomas?”
“Not sure the transition works, Brian, but I'll play along. I found his book, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“It's a long story, I'll tell you in the summer when it's warm.”
Brian grinned, his breath misty. “I eagerly await your tale,” he said. “You know, you never did get around to asking me about the Van Diver family and their history at the farmhouse. That was one of your favors, right? Something about other families that lived there?”
“I did, yes, but once I got the lead on Thomas's book, well, it all seemed irrelevant.”
“I could have told you that day we traveled down to Hudson, it's an easy enough answer. The Sullivans bought the house directly from the Van Divers,” he said. “Dan Sullivan—Janey's biological father—he grew up in the farmhouse bought by his grandparents and lived there after his parents passed and he married Annie.”
“Doesn't seem to be a house with much luck,” she said.
“Oh, I have a feeling Janey will break the curse,” he said. “No matter how old she gets, she'll still retain that youthful vigor, it's just inherent within her. And as much as I have Dan and Annie Sullivan to thank for her genes, I think it's the Van Diver ancestors who deserve more of the credit for what Linden Corners is today—after all, it was their decision to build the windmill. And while I know the Van Divers built it for practical purposes back then, today it just spins its daily dose of inspiration. Who Janey would be without it, I hesitate to say.”
“Travis is the complete opposite,” Nora said. “He's had to grow up so fast, more so than if Dave had not decided to play to the stereotype of a man fast-approaching fifty. A midlife crisis, I mean, really? I didn't know I had married such a predictable man. The way Travis has rallied during this adjustment, sometimes I believe he's the one holding me up.”

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