Read A Christmas Wish Online

Authors: Joseph Pittman

A Christmas Wish

B
OOKS BY
J
OSEPH
P
ITTMAN
A Christmas Wish
Tilting at Windmills
When the World Was Small
Legend's End
London Frog:
A Todd Gleason Crime Novel
California Scheming:
A Todd Gleason Crime Novel
A
C
HRISTMAS
WISH
A Linden Corners Novel
 
 
JOSEPH PITTMAN
KENSINGTON BOOKS
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
This one's for . . .
Pittman Family Christmas
A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to everyone at Kensington for embracing the world of Linden Corners, with particular appreciation to the wonderful Audrey LaFehr.
Let it be said that of all who give gifts,
these two were the wisest.
—O. Henry, “The Gift of the Magi”
A
UTHOR'S
N
OTE
You've been here before, this place called Linden Corners. There was once the tale of a man, a woman, a young girl, a windmill . . . and a terrible storm that forever changed their lives. Many readers wondered what happened next. This story tells the next chapter. If you are new to the inspiring, enduring tale of the windmill, you need no prior knowledge, as this story stands alone.
 
You are cordially invited to celebrate the holidays with Brian, Janey, and the rest of the Linden Corners family. Turn the page; there are special gifts waiting to be un-wrapped....
P
ROLOGUE
Theirs was a seemingly unbreakable bond, one that had been built by the power of the wind and by the presence of the mighty windmill. Today the windmill spun its special brand of magic, even as the harsh cold of winter approached and nature readied to hibernate for the long, dark months ahead. On this Wednesday afternoon in November, he found himself walking through the light coating of snow that covered the ground, venturing beneath the turning sails. It was here, on this eve of the holiday season, he sought inspiration and knowledge and strength, all of which he would need to navigate his way through the memories of a past tinged with sadness, one that threatened to undo their fragile happiness. Because as wonderful as they were together, the days and especially the nights hadn't always been easy, and the coming holiday season would prove to be the most trying time yet, a test of that bond.
“Annie, sweet Annie, can you hear me?” he asked, his voice a hint above a whisper. He hoped the swirling wind would carry his words forward, upward. “I need your help, Annie. Janey needs your help, and I know you're the only one who can show me—who can show us—the way through this difficult time. Thanksgiving is just around the corner, Annie, and how I wish you were here to celebrate with us. It would have been our first—yours and mine, with Janey. The three of us together, trimmings complementing the bounty of our love. But that's not how things worked out. We are two only, and we both miss you. Before long, Christmas will be upon us, and if we can get through a holiday based on joy, on celebration, I think we'll be fine, just fine. Until then, Annie, I just can't predict how Janey will react to certain situations. Can you help me, can you show me the way to make this holiday a special one for your precious daughter? She's only eight and she's alone, except for me, and sometimes I wonder, Annie, am I enough for her?”
There was no answer, not today. Snowflakes fell lightly all around him, the wind was gentle and the sails of the windmill spun slowly. It was as though the old mill could reach out with those giant arms and embrace the quiet soon to descend on the tiny village of Linden Corners, on its residents and on its treasured way of life. On a Christmas wrapped in tragedy, somehow able to transport them beyond their grief.
For this man, a kind but broken man named Brian Duncan, this coming season would be a new experience, knowing the success of the holidays rested solely on his weighted shoulders. And as much as he looked forward to celebrations, of joys, of shopping and of gift giving, there were times when his warm heart was frozen with fear. Uncertainty could stop him in his step at a moment's notice, now being one of those moments.
As they prepared to journey beyond the comfort of Linden Corners—he and Janey taking their first official trip out of town—panic once again seized him, a feeling he usually sensed only after Janey had gone to sleep. A time when the night awakened his insecurities. Often he went to where he could feel Annie's presence the most, seeking her wisdom. Standing now in the shadow of the windmill—of Annie's windmill—he began to realize she couldn't always be there for him. Some decisions he had to make on his own.
“I told my mother, Annie, that I wasn't coming for Thanksgiving unless she made peach pie,” Brian said with a touch of levity he thought was needed. He had been introduced to the sweet, gooey pastry just this past summer on a picnic high above the lazy Hudson River, on a rocky bluff he had subsequently named for her. “Mother claimed never to have heard of such a thing. I had to search your recipe box, and even after I found it I doubted it would taste the same. Sweet it would be, but missing that special ingredient you sprinkled into the mix—love. A piece of that pie for Janey was crucial, knowing it's a piece of you. To make her feel at home even when she's not.”
There were more questions, more requests. Brian spoke and he listened. And still there was no answer, just gentle, flowing wind and falling snowflakes and the languid spin of the sails. Nothing was different, no sign came to him that he'd been heard. Just then Brian smiled, perhaps interpreting this calm silence as an acknowledgment that if the wind didn't see fit to shift its direction, neither should he. Steady the course, follow your instinct. Trust your heart.
“Okay, Annie, I think I hear you now,” he said with a wry smile.
She was like that, mysterious, elusive, even when she'd been in his arms.
He removed his glove and placed a bare hand on the windmill's wooden door, as though searching for a pulse from inside. Its touch was cold. Then, turning back toward the farmhouse, he saw young Janey emerging from over the hill, her fingers laced through those of Gerta Connors, neighbor and friend, honorary grandmother. They both waved at him, with Janey suddenly breaking free of her hold. Janey began to run down the hill, her boots making faint impressions on the snow, as though she was barely touching the ground.
“Brian, Brian, I'm ready for our trip, come on, let's go. We've got a long drive ahead of us,” she said with easy glee, conjured from her redoubtable spirit. Where a small girl stored such energy, Brian didn't know. Then she wrapped herself around his waist and held him tight.
“I was just making sure everything was secure,” he said. “I see now that it is.”
Together, they made their way back up the hill where Gerta waited patiently. Gerta, who had invited them to spend Thanksgiving with her and her four grown daughters, Gerta, who had herself faced terrible loss this past year and persevered, just like them all. It was a Linden Corners trait. Brian had politely declined her invitation. Maybe they both needed this first holiday with their own families, he explained. Holidays were about families, she should be with hers and he, his.
“My mother, she needs her family during these times more so than any other time of year,” Brian stated with little explanation. He didn't often speak of his family; they hadn't shared his recent journey, didn't understand his new life. “It's a time of year when the Duncan family remembers what we have and what we lost. Maybe the only time we do remember. We so rarely understand each other.”
In every family there were both treasures lost and found, Gerta had said with her customary grace and understanding.
Back at the farmhouse, Brian Duncan and Janey Sullivan said their good-byes to Gerta with quiet hugs and heartfelt emotions, and then piled into Brian's car. Suitcases were already stored in the trunk, ready to travel. Was he? Brian wondered.
“Ready?” Brian asked Janey. Just to be sure.
“I already said so,” she replied, not without a sense of exasperation that reminded him of the young girl he'd met at the start of summer, before anything had happened. Of the time they had first met that sweet summer day, right here, at the base of the windmill. “Why, did you change your mind?”
Brian realized she was giving him a chance to change his mind. He grinned at her maturity, her intuitiveness. Sometimes he wondered which of them was the adult, which the child.
“The open road awaits us,” he said.
Soon they were tucked in their seats and then they had pulled out of the driveway, tires crunching on the small amount of snow in the driveway. Then the winding road captured them, taking them out of Linden Corners, passing the windmill one last time as the car rounded a curve. Janey waved to it, while Brian, smiling nonetheless, kept his eyes on the road. Because he'd already made his wish upon the wind, and it was up to nature now to send his message to that special place where all his wishes belonged.
Christmas was coming.
Surprises awaited them all, not all of them to be unwrapped.
A season of love, of hope, was just around the corner.
They would be back in Linden Corners to celebrate.
For now, it was time to learn about each other, of what lived inside their hearts.

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