Daphne squealed, Christie jumped down the rest of the steps, Martha clapped, and George pushed himself to his feet. In seconds, Angus and Elizabeth were surrounded, being kissed and hugged, and having their hands shaken. Martin and Thomas opened more champagne and the whole party toasted the love and future of Angus and Elizabeth.
Much later, when most of the guests had gone home, Thomas and Martha again sat with George. Angus had packed his suitcases and escorted Elizabeth back to Palmerston House, sharing a snow globe. Inside, Christie and Martin finished the last of the cleaning. They’d insisted they needed no help, and Randall, exhausted, followed them in. Music and laughter was replaced by the endless ocean waves below the cliff.
Martha opened her handbag. “I believe there’s something we need to attend to.” She drew out the notebook from the shoebox. “After our small miracle tonight, I feel it is the right time to see what Frannie kept in here.”
“Should we wait for the other two?” Thomas glanced at the open sliding door.
“Martin would not accept us reading his grandmother’s notebook. It might not be a diary, but he’d see it as personal.”
“Open it, Martha.” George said.
The notebook was small and there was little writing inside. A couple of shopping lists, crossed off. A phone number with no name. Then, toward the middle, some dates with notes.
7 August 1971
Ten o’clock at Green Bay. Meet with D.R. Take shoebox with rings, photographs, and my diary.
“Diary?” Martha gave Thomas a questioning glance but he shrugged. She went past several more blank pages.
24 December 1971
Very last day at the fabric shop! Buy presents for my family at lunch break.
“I’d sold two paintings that month and landed a commission. All Frannie ever wanted was to stay home with Thomas junior, so I’d told her it was time. She’d worked part time since we married.” Thomas said.
7 August 1972
A year since I gave the shoebox to Dorothy Ryan. I wish I hadn’t. My diary had poems to Thomas junior in it. And all the things I’d wished I’d have said to Martha. I’m so sorry for hurting her and tricking her. It was wrong.
The words caught in Martha’s throat and she put the notebook down to take a sip of water. Thomas leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“Should I finish reading, Martha?” George offered.
She shook her head and reopened the small book. There was one more entry, on the very last page.
Whatever is in the envelope will remain a mystery to me. Perhaps when Thomas junior is grown, I’ll give it to him to help him on his way. But it is not mine. I have everything I need with my little family.
“Oh, Frannie never even opened it. She never read Dorothy’s letter.” Martha closed the notebook and slid it into her handbag. “Tom, she knew she did the wrong thing.”
Thomas stared out at the night sky, blinking a little too quickly. Martha took his hand and he squeezed it back. Tightly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Christie drove back from Green Bay, Martin at her side. Both were quiet, deep in their own thoughts. With plenty of fresh leftovers from the party packed into two eskies, they’d left after breakfast, Randall at home still asleep in his bed.
The shelter wasn’t large, but today attracted a bigger than usual attendance of disadvantaged and homeless people. Older men, families, a few young adults all united by a need to find company on a day many of them would otherwise spend alone.
Martin was welcomed by the shelter workers like a long lost friend. Christie immediately got involved in preparing food. She talked to everyone, her smile infectious. As they went to leave, the coordinator patted Martin on the back and asked him to thank Thomas and Martha again.
“They must have been there so early.” Christie slowed at the last few curves before River’s End. “We couldn’t have missed them by much.”
“I’m pleased with their decision.”
“About giving Frannie’s money to the shelter?”
“Thomas didn’t need to ask me though.”
Last night, Thomas had filled Martin and Christie in on the discovery of the money in the envelope, and the note that it might be used for Thomas junior.
“If my father never needed it, then it should go to those who do.”
“I’m sure it will make a difference.”
They passed the turn-off to the cottage and headed for the car park near the graveyard. The four wheel drive was parked there and Thomas and Martha reached it as Christie parked.
“Merry Christmas!” Thomas hugged Christie, then Martin. “Been to the shelter?”
“It was wonderful!” Christie put an arm around Martha. “But so sad. I’m thinking I’d like to do a bit more.”
“Well, you made a great impression. You should have seen her. Piling up plates for serving, making sure anyone with special needs was put first, bringing a smile to everyone’s face. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” Martin glanced at the graveyard. “Been visiting Mum and Dad?” he asked Thomas.
“Yup. Is that where you’re heading?”
Christie reached into the back of the Lotus. “We’ve got some pretty bouquets.” She handed two to Martin, and took two more out.
“Come on, old man.” Martha reached for Thomas’ hand. “Lots of preparation to do for tonight.”
“We do. See you both tonight. Remember to bring my dog.”
Once they’d driven out of the car park, Martin led the way to Dorothy’s grave. “And I’m proud of you for this.”
“What I’ve learnt about Gran from Martha recently gives me a little more insight into why she was the way she was. Pushed into a career she didn’t want, forbidden to pursue her dreams, left to parent when her mother failed to.” Christie laid one of the bouquets on the grave. “She was wrong in what she did to Martha. And my mother. But I did love her and now, I forgive her.”
Martin held out a hand and she took it. Back on her feet, he kissed her forehead. “Forgiveness is a way forward.”
A little further away, Martin’s family were laid side by side. His father, mother, and grandmother Frannie, all taken by a drunk driver on the same day. Every Christmas, Thomas would bring flowers to each grave. Until last year, when he’d discovered Frannie’s part in destroying his relationship with Martha. Since then he’d boycotted Frannie’s grave, not even tending the purple lobelia Martin planted one year.
“Look.” Christie put her hand on Martin’s arm. “There’s flowers.”
“Thomas was just here, sweetheart.”
“No, look at Frannie’s grave.”
Surprise filled Martin’s face and he knelt near the headstone. He gently placed a bouquet beside a beautiful wreath. “Granddad?”
Christie knelt at his side and slipped her arm around him. “Forgiveness is more than a way forward. It’s a key to the door between the past and present.”
***
By the middle of the afternoon, the stationmaster’s cottage was overflowing with delectable Christmas smells. Once Thomas finished setting the dining room table, he joined Martha in the kitchen.
“Not sure I can wait until dinner, bride.” He sniffed the air. “How do you make it look so easy?”
Martha struck a pose, a tea towel in one hand and a basting spoon in the other.
“Told you at the children’s wedding, you should have been a model.”
“Actually, when I lived briefly in California, I did some modelling.”
“You did what? Since when did you live—”
“Still have some surprises. Now, would you see if there is one more lettuce in the garden? Models need to watch their figures.”
Thomas didn’t know if she was serious until she opened the back door. “Along the path, through the gate.” He grinned as he stepped onto the back porch.
There were plenty of lettuce there, so he took his time selecting the best one, then added a handful of basil. Never could have enough. Tonight was going to be the b
est Christmas dinner ever. Glorious food. Handing out presents. Playing with Randall. Planning yet another River’s End wedding. Almost perfect.
As he reached the back porch, Trev came around the corner. In jeans and a t-shirt declaring ‘Santa’s helper’, he carried a gift wrapped box. “Ah, just the man I want to see. Merry Christmas.”
“Trev. Thanks. What is it?”
“Open it, dear.” Martha opened the back door. “Here, I’ll take those. Hello, Trev.”
His hands free of lettuce and basil, Thomas accepted the box. “Coming inside?”
Martha hurried into the cottage and re-emerged almost immediately.
“Nope. On my way to see Mum for a late Christmas dinner. Open it.”
Inside the box was a dog bowl.
“Nice. Thanks, I think, Randall might like a new one.”
“He doesn’t get the hint, eh Martha?” Trev disappeared down the driveway.
“What hint? Where are you going?” Thomas gave Martha a puzzled look, made even more so by the wide smile on her face. She stepped off the porch and took his hand.
“Come on.”
He let her lead him in the direction Trev took. Trev’s car was parked across the driveway and he stood beside the passenger door. Once Thomas was halfway down the driveway, he reached for the handle. “Oh, and this is the other half of your present.”
With a quick motion, Trev opened the door. A black flash tore out of the car and barrelled along the driveway, almost knocking into Thomas. Without hesitation, Thomas lifted Jag into his arms. Jag licked his face until he laughed, but when he gently returned the dog to the ground, Thomas’ face was wet with tears.
Jag trotted over to say hello to Martha and she patted the top of his head.
“How? I mean, what does this mean?” Thomas looked from Martha to Trev.
“He’s officially available for a new home. Kind of jumped the gun, so to speak, and gave the nephew a ring myself. He lives in an apartment and when I mentioned I might know a suitable home, was very grateful.”
“A suitable home.” Thomas crossed the distance to Martha. “Us?”
Martha reached her hand to his face, brushing away the tears. “Yes, Tom. Us. I think he likes you very much.”
“And I like you very much.” Thomas kissed the tip of her nose. “Thank you.”
“So, he’s staying, or does he come to Mum’s with me?”
Thomas pulled Trev in for a bear hug. “I’ll never forget this. Safe travels.”
Jag sat beside Martha, tail wagging. He whined as Trev left, but once he’d driven away, ran to Thomas again.
“My dog?”
“I think so, dear. Why don’t you get him a drink and we’ll show him around.”
***
The Christmas table was ready. Delectable food, wine in crystal glasses, beautiful flowers, and one of Christie’s brand new candles. Martin’s gift had almost made her cry, but tonight was about joy, not tears. A box of handmade soy candles called Jasmine Sea. The scent was perfect and now she’d decided to start a line of candles to sell in the beauty salon.
She gazed at the people sharing this wonderful night with her. Martin, the love of her life, and a happy man with the new surfboard she’d sprung on him this morning. Great-aunt Martha, whose smile hadn’t left her face since they arrived. Thomas. She never seen him so content and although Jag was responsible for much of it, she suspected his visit to Frannie’s grave also laid some old sorrows to rest.
Dear Angus could barely take his eyes off Elizabeth, and they rarely stopped holding hands. The ‘For Sale’ board was already gone, and with another wedding in the air, the town was joking about what mystery from the past might emerge this time. No more mysteries. This little town was due for a long and happy time of peaceful living.
Randall nudged her leg under the table and she reached down to stroke his silky ears. All of a sudden another nose nudged her other leg and she grinned. No more debating over who owned Randall, as Jag was now declared another shared member of the family.
And this is the key to it all. Working together, supporting one another, and always putting love above any differences. This was her family, all of them, and this cottage was home to anyone who needed it.
“Sweetheart?” Martin lifted his glass and everyone followed. “Would you like to make the first toast?”
Christie raised her glass, eyes glistening as she overflowed with happiness. “Merry Christmas.”
A NOTE ABOUT RIVER’S END: The Town of Love
The dear residents of this fictional seaside town have been part of my life for more than fifteen years. I love them so much, no matter what their role is or how much they’ve appeared in the stories.
The Christmas Key winds up the series, yet I believe I’ll return here again. If you enjoyed visiting this special world, please let me know with an email, or via social media.
One character who forced herself into the limelight was Charlotte Dean. I wasn’t sure why she arrived in River’s End during Jasmine Sea, but she insisted I write more about her in The Secrets of Palmerston House. She then convinced me she needs her own series.
Keep a look out for The Charlotte Dean Mysteries sometime later next year, or keep up to date by joining my email newsletter or following me on social media or Bookbub. I promise you will see some of your favourite River’s End characters in her stories.
Thank you for joining me on this marvellous adventure. To the golden beach, the jetty, the stationmaster’s cottage, Palmerston House, Martin’s house on the cliff, Thomas’ cabin in the mountains, all the shops and homes in town. For being there for the highs and lows, for danger, special moments, and a journey through time.
Randall and Jag say a special woof goodbye... or is it, see you later!
From my heart to yours.
Phillipa
OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES
The Stationmaster's Cottage
Jasmine Sea
The Secrets of Palmerston House
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Phillipa grew up along lonely Australian beaches with wild seas and misty cliffs. From a young age she wrote stories and dreamed of becoming an author.
Now living in regional Victoria, Australia on a small acreage close to a mountain range, Phillipa's great loves - apart from writing - are her family of two young adult sons and her husband, their Labrador, music, fine wine, and friends.
Phillipa is a member of Romance Writers of Australia, Romance Writers of New Zealand, and Romance Readers Association Australia.
The Christmas Key Page 10
