A Christmas Hope (24 page)
Authors: Joseph Pittman
“One of my triple-great-grandfather's favorite pieces, done during his most productive period. He embraced this countryside with such verve, he felt there was no more perfect place on earth, since with each season came its own gloriesâthe heat of summer and the crisp burnt colors of autumn, the snowy landscape of winter, the burgeoning return of nature in a verdant spring. It helped inspire his art year-round. He was present for many of the days the Van Diver family spent building the windmill, he sketched these and other pictures, but committed only these three paintings.” He paused. “So, what do you think?”
“I wish I could buy them,” Gerta said.
Nicholas smiled as though he'd been expecting the question and had his answer all ready. “Well, in a way, Gerta, you can,” he said, his eyes dancing behind his glasses. “Are you looking for that perfect Christmas gift?”
C
HAPTER
18
HAPTER
18
B
RIAN
RIAN
T
he moonlight shined down on the land, creating a shadowy sheen across the snowy field. Stars dotted the sky, the North Star bright and sparkling. No rain or snow was falling, and just a slight wind blew in the otherwise quiet of the night. For Brian Duncan, this was as peaceful as life got, especially as he sat upon the roof of his car watching the sails of the windmill turn, the white lights that adorned the tower glistening against a black canvas. Compared to where he'd been just an hour ago, the difference was as stark as Linden Corners was to the big city.
he moonlight shined down on the land, creating a shadowy sheen across the snowy field. Stars dotted the sky, the North Star bright and sparkling. No rain or snow was falling, and just a slight wind blew in the otherwise quiet of the night. For Brian Duncan, this was as peaceful as life got, especially as he sat upon the roof of his car watching the sails of the windmill turn, the white lights that adorned the tower glistening against a black canvas. Compared to where he'd been just an hour ago, the difference was as stark as Linden Corners was to the big city.
The annual George's Tavern Christmas Party had been a smashing success, with more food and drink than necessary, all of it capped by dozens of Gerta's homemade pies, a rich selection of apple and peach, pumpkin and mincemeat, and of course, for Brian her sticky sweet strawberry. He'd managed to gobble up two slices, taking quick bites as he served drinks from behind the bar. He and Mark barely had time for a break, that's how crowded and busy the bar was. The regulars had come early, found their seats, and barely moved. The twins, Marla and Darla, sat at the corner edge of the bar, knocking back tequila shots, just as they had done last year. Chuck drank cheap beer and kept looking at the door, as though waiting for some vision of Christmas to come entertain him. The senior set was out in full force, Elsie leading the charge save one person; there was no Thomas Van Diver to be seen, which disappointed Brian. He'd been working on his Manhattan-making skills in anticipation of the old man's presence, but Brian had not had seen or heard from him since dropping him off the other day at the train station. Martha Martinson enjoyed herself, too, glad to have one day off from the Five O', and Sara was the belle of the ball, with everyone saying how they couldn't wait to see her in her wedding dress tomorrow. The tavern barely needed any light, that's how much Sara glowed. The kids had a blast, too, Janey and Travis and Janey's best friend, Ashley, all hanging together, playing darts like the grown-ups, drinking down their sparkling cider like it was champagne. Even Cynthia and Bradley managed to stop by with little Jake; despite the noise he'd fallen fast asleep and Bradley had opted to return back to their home, leaving Cynthia to hang with Nora, the two of them chatting nonstop. A sight that left Brian filled with more than a bit of paranoia.
But while the village of Linden Corners started off the holiday season in full tradition, it was Brian who was left with a touch of sadness. Last year at this time he'd had his own guests attendingâhis pal, John Oliver, along with his girlfriend, Anna; and Rebecca, his sister, who had brought Junior along. This year none could make it, John and Anna were now engaged and spending the holiday with her Italian family in Brooklyn. Rebecca he hadn't even heard from. So if those traditions could not continue, there was one Brian wished to retain, and thankfully he could control that. Atop the roof of the truck with legs crossed, he stared wonderingly at the windmill, thinking about Annie and a thing called destiny.
“Hi, Annie,” Brian spoke into the wind, letting his words flow on its current. “Janey's good . . . no, she's great. Thriving and growing like a weed. But she's still your sweet girl and misses you every day. I'm sure you know that, she talks to you, too. Cynthia is doing well, too, with Jake. Janey is over at the Knights' house so often I think they are thinking of charging her rent. She's there tonight because it was the annual Christmas party, so I had to work late. And then tomorrow is Christmas Eve. There's going to be a big party here in front of the windmill, a Christmas Festival topped by a wedding, actually, which I know would fill your heart with joy. You might have been called the Woman Who Loved the Windmill, but so many in Linden Corners seem to be vying for that title now. You should have heard all the chatter tonight about how lucky Sara was to be getting married under all these lights, in such a picturesque scene. But don't worry, the title remains yours in spirit, Janey's in reality.”
He paused, crossing his arms over his body as the cold seeped beneath his coat. Watching the windmill spin, he felt the wind pick up and turn those sails that much quicker; like Annie was letting him know she was listening to every word. The lights on the windmill flickered, like the blink of crystal eyes. Wait, he thought, what was that? They flickered again, then returned as bright as ever. His heart beating, he feared the worst and then took a moment to settle them.
“Power is an amazing force, Annie. These lights power the windmill just as the stars do the sky. And Janey, she's a power all her own, and thankfully she's got enough to fuel me. She's my first thought in the morning, my last one at night, the light inside the farmhouse, like the twinkling bulbs on our Christmas tree. Annie, I can't wait for Christmas morning to see the look on Janey's face when she opens my special gifts. We'll open them in your presence, we'll be here again that morning, just like last year, just like always.”
He sat for as long as he could, but after thirty minutes the wind blowing across the open field grew too much; it was two thirty in the morning, he should get home and try for sleep. There was much to do in the next two days, a wedding, the Christmas Eve festival, and of course Christmas Day itself. For a moment he thought again about Thomas; where was the kindly, but enigmatic man? Brian had hoped to convince him to read Saint Nick's story to the children as part of the festival, and though he wasn't yet giving upâeven going so far as to rent a Santa suitâtime was fast running out. He would go tomorrow morning to visit the man at The Edge, hoping to catch him before he left for his mysterious Christmas Eve trip.
Hopping off the truck's roof, he set himself behind the wheel and with a wave at the windmill, drove off onto the highway. A minute later he had turned up Crestview Road and into the driveway, his headlights guiding him, one more beam of light against the dark night. Heading inside the farmhouse, he listened for the sounds of the slumbering girl who called this place home, even as he knew that wasn't possible, she wasn't here now. He was all alone, not unlike last year, a stranger inside the Sullivan home. He thought again of Thomas, he who had called this home even before Dan Sullivan's parents had bought it. Brian wondered, was there something more he could do, both for Janey and for Thomas, too, that would make Christmas as perfect as it could be? A way to bridge past and present, creating a brand-new future for them both.
Foregoing sleep once again, Brian went upstairs, where he brought down the ladder to the attic, its squeaky hinges exponentially louder in the quiet of the early morning. Making his way up the stairs, he walked past the boxes that had usually contained their Christmas decorations, empty now, settling himself on the wood floor before the boxes filled with the Sullivan family memories. The tape was old, browned and loose against the cardboard; Brian hoped the contents of the boxes were secure and undamaged. Janey had lost enough already at such a young age, to be denied her father's family legacy would be too much. So Brian tore open the first of the boxes, which were filled with trophies and photographs; a handsome collegiate man with blond hair and an easy smile. The name D
ANIEL
S
ULLIVAN
sketched on all the plaques and trophiesâhe was a star runner, a winner of his college's triathlon. Brian quickly flipped through various items, photographs of Dan at a younger age and in the company of what were undoubtedly his parents. People who had populated this world and left it early, only their memories alive inside the place they had called home. He found nothing that connected Dan to either Annie or Janey, so no doubt there was more information to be gleaned from inside the other boxes.
ANIEL
S
ULLIVAN
sketched on all the plaques and trophiesâhe was a star runner, a winner of his college's triathlon. Brian quickly flipped through various items, photographs of Dan at a younger age and in the company of what were undoubtedly his parents. People who had populated this world and left it early, only their memories alive inside the place they had called home. He found nothing that connected Dan to either Annie or Janey, so no doubt there was more information to be gleaned from inside the other boxes.
He paused, unsure if he should be doing this. He felt like an intruder, delving into a life he had stolen despite the fact he had never met Dan. In his company Annie had rarely mentioned her husband, who had died in a car accident when Janey was not even five years old. But one day Janey would want to look inside these boxes and learn all she could about her birth father, and Brian thought he best be prepared. What was the rush, why tonight? Because of the gift he had for Janey, he knew it would spark emotions within the little girl. And so he opened up the second box.
There he found Dan and Annie's wedding portrait, he in a tux and she in a simple white gown, nothing fluffy or extravagant, and he wasn't surprised by this. Annie had been a simple woman in her tastes, elegant in an understated way, and so for her to shun decadence for love was in keeping with her spirit. Brian realized he was holding on to the frame for too long, his eyes focused on a happy couple, who should have had their whole lives ahead of them, neither knowing at the time how short their time together would be. Neither knew of the blessed young girl who would carry their traditions forward to a new generation, a new world. Neither knew how a stranger named Brian Duncan would figure into this family equation, as unlikely an event as Brian's first sighting of the windmill along the Linden Corners landscape.
Near the bottom of the box, an object caught Brian's attention, not because of what he saw but what he couldn't. It was wrapped in paper, and as he carefully pulled it from its long hidden home, he recognized Christmas paperâfaded red backdrop, a Christmas tree pattern designed all over; a simple tag was attached.
“To Janey, a gift to you from beyond the wind. Love, Dad.”
His heart heavy, Brian stifled a tear as he realized this was a gift nearly lost to history, a Christmas memory that had been trapped inside a piece of the past. Had Annie known of its existence, and if so, was she holding it back from Janey because the emotion would have been too much for her, for them? Which left Brian with a tortured dilemma. He was Janey's legal guardian, and even if he wasn't he still had her best interests at heart. And so he asked himself: Should he remove the old wrapping and see what Dan had intended to give his daughter, or should he just leave well enough alone and wait until Janey was older, more mature?
But that would mean Brian would be left with a sense of mystery about the gift, not able to get it out of his mind. Not just during the holiday, but every time he ventured into the attic or even just past the door, always he would be thinking, what is this gift . . . how would it impact her life? He had little choice, he had to find out what it was, and so he stripped the paper away to reveal a cardboard shirt box. Sliding a nail beneath the tape that held the box together, Brian finally had it open, drawing back the tissue paper to reveal . . .
His eyes flew open, his heart skipped a beat, a nervous tingle rippled across his back. He dropped the box to the floor, its precious content sliding out of the box. Brian stared down at the faded image of the one and only Santa Claus . . . his face filled with a jolly mirth, as though he were smiling directly at Brian and thanking him for finding him, releasing him.
“Oh my God,” he said.
Even without picking the book up, he could read its musty-looking cover: it stated
The Night before Christmas, or A Visit from Saint Nicholas,
and what was most unusual about the volume was Santa himself, dressed as he was in a green suit. Brian still couldn't touch the book, his heart was pounding so furiously, because not only had he discovered a gift for Janey left to her by her deceased father, he had solved the mystery of Thomas Van Diver's lost book. It had been in the farmhouse all this time, never having seen the light of day . . . never having been read for who knew how long.
The Night before Christmas, or A Visit from Saint Nicholas,
and what was most unusual about the volume was Santa himself, dressed as he was in a green suit. Brian still couldn't touch the book, his heart was pounding so furiously, because not only had he discovered a gift for Janey left to her by her deceased father, he had solved the mystery of Thomas Van Diver's lost book. It had been in the farmhouse all this time, never having seen the light of day . . . never having been read for who knew how long.
Finally, with kid gloves, Brian took hold of the precious book. It was in good condition for such an old volume, and he supposed the paper wrapping and secure location inside the cardboard box had kept dust and air from further drying its pages. He opened the front cover, heard the spine creak as he did so, the binding challenged after so many years of being sealed. A piece of paper slid to the floor, but Brian paid it no mind, not now. Because, there on the first page was an inscription that captured his attention, a strong, handwritten script that was thankfully distinguishable after all these years.
“For my son, Thomas, on his birthday, this book is for Christmases Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow. With love, Papa.”
“For my son, Thomas, on his birthday, this book is for Christmases Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow. With love, Papa.”
Brian set the volume down inside the box, keeping it safe. Then he retrieved the piece of paper that had fallen to the floor and read its contents.
“My dearest Janey. For much of my childhood my father read this book to me every Christmas. It was discovered here in the farmhouse's attic when we moved in, and has remained in the Sullivan family since. Now I give it to you to pass on to a new generation, a gift from another family who could no longer celebrate its future. For us, you and me and your treasured mother, that is all we will embrace, the notion that with tomorrow comes a special thing called hope. All my love, Dad.”
“My dearest Janey. For much of my childhood my father read this book to me every Christmas. It was discovered here in the farmhouse's attic when we moved in, and has remained in the Sullivan family since. Now I give it to you to pass on to a new generation, a gift from another family who could no longer celebrate its future. For us, you and me and your treasured mother, that is all we will embrace, the notion that with tomorrow comes a special thing called hope. All my love, Dad.”
Brian couldn't believe this unexpected discovery, not after all he'd heard about the book, from Thomas and from Nora, and all this time . . . it was here, inside the attic. He blinked away a tear as he realized this gift that Dan Sullivan had intended for Janey was not going to end up in her hands after all, because it belonged to Thomas, and it had been discovered just in time for Christmas Eve . . . no, correct that, it had been found on Christmas Eve, like a gift from Saint Nick himself.
A sudden sense of darkness fell over the attic, and Brian looked up to see if the bulb above him had blown. But no, he was still bathed in that yellow light, realizing the fresh coat of darkness was coming from outside. He moved over to the window, which faced west, and he looked out over a land that was encased in blackness. Not even the moon was visible from here, just a blank, black landscape. He couldn't even see the windmill . . .
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