A Wish for Christmas

by Thomas Kinkade

  Reverend Ben stood stone still, without expression at first. Then he slowly smiled, his eyes growing very wide behind his glasses.

  “Thank you, Digger. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for that inspired solution to our Christmas mystery. I don’t think anyone in this church ever needs to wonder about it again.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “NEED SOME HELP CLEANING UP THE TREE STAND?” DAVID asked Jack. They were sitting at the breakfast table, the day after Christmas. Katie was outside, feeding Feathers her oats, and Julie was helping her.

  “Oh, I’m not going to start in on that today. I need a break from those trees. I’m going to put up some fencing for the pony later on. Want to help?”

  “I guess. Sure,” David said, though he didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

  Jack could tell David was feeling blue again and looking for something to keep himself occupied. He guessed it had something to do with Christine, but he didn’t dare pry.

  “Want to come for a ride with me? I found a good bargain in the paper on a saddle and tack for Feathers. Thought I would go out and get it today. I know Katie can’t wait to ride her.”

  “Sure, I’ll come. Where are we going, into town?”

  Jack gathered up some dirty dishes and brought them to the sink. “Out to Angel Island. Remember that place?”

  David laughed quietly. “I sure do.”

  Jack could tell from the sound of his son’s voice that they were good memories, too. It was a fine idea to ride out there this morning. It was just what they both needed to clear their heads after all the fuss and excitement of Christmas.

  Twenty minutes later, Jack and David left the tree farm in Jack’s truck. He drove down Beach Road, turning left toward the bay side. There was a land bridge down one of the roads that led to Angel Island. It was not always accessible and was often covered by water after a storm or at an unusually high tide. Of course, some people took a boat out to the island, but in this kind of weather that wasn’t too much fun.

  “Will the bridge be clear?” David asked.

  “Should be. There hasn’t been any really bad weather the last few days,” Jack recalled. “Not the most convenient place in the world. I guess that’s part of its charm. There are going to be some big changes out here,” he added. “The island has been named part of the National Seashore, or something like that. They’re going to start a ferry service from Newburyport and improve the beaches. It’s going to be a pretty busy spot next summer, I guess.”

  “Really? I can’t picture it,” David said honestly. “I hope they don’t ruin the place. Its wildness is the best part.”

  “I agree. But a ferry is a good idea,” Jack said as he drove the truck over the land bridge. Minutes later, they were on the island, following one of its few main roads.

  “Where’s the tack?” David asked.

  “The fellow owns a general store,” Jack replied. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

  “I think I remember that place,” David said. “Remember when we used to camp here? Mom hated it. She would last one night in the tent, then we would wind up at that inn.”

  Jack smiled. “Your mother was a good sport. With the landscaping business it was hard to take real vacations in the summer. So this place was our compromise. We’d camp and hike around here. Sometimes we’d fish. You loved it. You thought it was paradise.”

  “I did,” David admitted.

  Jack was driving along a narrow road edged by stretches of open, grassy land interspersed with clusters of old cottages. A few looked occupied, but most appeared to be summerhouses only.

  “Is this the way to the general store?” David asked.

  “Could be,” Jack replied cryptically. “I don’t really remember. Hey, look at that. I knew there was something down here.” He slowed the truck and pointed.

  David looked out his window to see an old Victorian house, Queen Anne style, with bay windows on the first and second floors, a huge wrap-around porch, and a turret.

  The Angel Inn, the bed-and-breakfast they used to stay at, his mother’s favorite refuge from soggy tents and mosquitoes.

  “Remember the night we found this inn?” David said. “Our tent got blown away in a storm, and Mom was fit to be tied. We thought we were all going to sleep in the car. We knew the land bridge would be flooded so we couldn’t even go home. Then we just drove a bit and here it was.”

  “Yeah, here it was. Your mom liked it so much, she never wanted to stay anyplace else.” Jack leaned over to get a better look. “It’s a little frayed at the edges, but it was once a beauty. Could be again, with some time, attention, and money.”

  “I wonder if it’s still open for business?”

  “Looks like it. I see a vacancy sign.”

  David took another look. He saw it now, too.

  They drove on a bit more, just looking around at familiar spots. Some had changed, others had not changed at all. The farmhouse and barn were still there, as was the sheep pasture, a snowy meadow dotted with brown sheep.

  Finally, they came to the small town center, where there was a small general store and an even smaller building with a large sign that read, DAISY’S TEA ROOM & LENDING LIBRARY. A few more commercial spaces all looked closed for the winter.

  Jack jumped out of the truck and went into the store. David decided to wait outside while his father asked about the saddle.

  He walked around and peered into windows. There wasn’t too much to see, though the tea shop looked interesting. The room was filled with small tables, the wall lined with shelves up to the ceiling, brimming with books.

  His father soon came out of the store, carrying a worn but reasonable-looking saddle. He hoisted it into the back of the truck then went in again and returned with the tack, a harness, and other necessary items.

  Back in the truck, his father said, “Let’s go out to that beach we used to like and take a look. I’m curious to see it.”

  They drove back the way they had come and then down a very narrow, twisting lane, where the beach came into view.

  Jack parked the truck on the side of the road, and they both got out of the cab. It was a clear, cold day, and the wind off the water was icy cold.

  David dug his free hand into his pocket, flipped up his collar, and followed his father. A narrow wooden walkway led out onto the sand. At the bottom, Jack turned to him. “We don’t have to walk if it’s hard for you.”

  “I can do it,” David answered. He wasn’t quite sure how well the cane would work in the sand, but he was determined to try.

  They walked on the packed sand, above the shoreline. Jack slowed his pace to David’s but not in an obvious way.

  “So David, you won our bet. You got rid of the walker by Christmas,” Jack said. “How can we celebrate?”

  David still had visions of running the darn thing over with Jack’s truck but didn’t share the fantasy. “I don’t know, Dad. It just sort of happened. Now I need to get rid of the cane.”

  “All in good time,” Jack promised him.

  David glanced at him. Jack knew that look; he wondered what was coming.

  “Speaking of time, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Yes?” Jack was already bracing himself.

  “It’s time I moved on, Dad. You and Julie have been great, but I need to get my life together and figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of it. That’s not going to happen in my old bedroom at home.”

  Jack felt as though he had just taken a blow to his gut.

  He knew this was bound to come sooner or later. He knew David had his own life and had to make his own plans. But it was happening too fast.

  “I get it,” he said carefully. “You need to be on your own. That’s a good sign. But what’s the rush? Why not stay a few more weeks until you feel really strong?”

  “No, Dad. I can’t,” David said. “I’m ready now. I’m strong enough now. I know you mean well but—”

  “I just don’t want you
to go so quickly, David. Or move far away again,” Jack told him honestly. “Where are you going? What are you running to? You tried that once, son. I just don’t see that it was a very good solution for you.”

  Jack saw David’s face get that tight expression. He hadn’t meant to criticize, but he knew David had taken his words that way.

  “Is this about Christine?” Jack asked quietly. “I know she’s engaged, but maybe you should still tell her how you feel. People break off engagements every day,” he added. “If you don’t put yourself on the line, she’ll never know. And you won’t either.”

  “It’s not about Christine, not entirely,” David answered. “I need to wipe the slate clean, Dad. I don’t think I can do it here. And Christine . . . I can’t do it if I’m still seeing her every time I turn around. It’s not the main thing, but it doesn’t help.”

  Jack nodded. It was complicated. He understood that. He knew David wanted to have something to offer Christine, a solid future. Right now, he didn’t have much to show. Jack could understand why he wouldn’t fight for her. It was just too bad. Jack had always thought that the two of them were perfect for each other, even more so now that they were older.

  He rested his hand on David’s shoulder as they headed back to the truck. “I’m not telling you what to do, David. You’re a grown man now. I have no right. All I’m saying is to slow down. Think things through. Don’t just . . . take off. Get what I mean?”

  David sighed as he pulled himself onto the front seat. He was relieved his father had not started some big argument. Maybe Jack really had changed. Maybe they both had.

  “Yeah, I get what you mean, Dad. I have been thinking about this. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

  Jack didn’t answer him right away. He stared out his window. “So when will you go?” he asked sadly.

  “I’m not sure. Probably in a day or so. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know where I am this time,” he promised.

  Jack wondered if he really would. He had to trust him, though, and not nag about it. He had to trust that David would figure out the tangled knots in his life, that the boy knew what he needed to do.

  Even if it did seem to Jack like he was running in circles.

  EVERY HOUR AFTER THAT, JACK WONDERED WHEN DAVID WOULD GO.

  He wanted to tell Julie, but somehow he couldn’t find the words. Two days after their visit to Angel Island, Jack woke up in the middle of the night. Or he thought it was. He checked the clock. It was still pitch-black out, five a.m. He wasn’t sure what had roused him.

  He listened, wondering if David had been having a bad dream and had been calling out. But the house was silent. Just the usual night sounds, the heating pipes rattling and clocks ticking. Julie slept soundly beside him, her breath slow and even.

  He finally rolled over and went back to sleep. But the next morning, he was not surprised to find a note on the kitchen table, written in David’s bold, square hand:Dear Jack, Julie, & Kate,

  I’m sorry I didn’t say good-bye this morning. I wanted to get an early start (and you know how I hate a big good-bye scene, Dad). Thank you for all you’ve done for me these past weeks.

  I couldn’t have made it this far without you. Especially not without my dear little Katie.

  Don’t worry about me, Dad. I’ll be okay. I’ll call or send an e-mail soon to let you know where I am and what I’m up to.

  You all take care. Happy New Year.

  Love,

  David

  Jack sat down hard on a kitchen chair, reading the note again and again. He would have rushed out the door, jumped in his truck, and chased David down, but he knew that his son was long gone.

  Tears filled his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. He wanted to run back to David’s room, to see if this was all some big mistake. He imagined seeing David’s long, lanky form under the twisted blankets, his mop of dirty blond hair on the pillow.

  But he knew David would not be there. The room would be empty now of his possessions, all packed in the big green army duffel.

  They’d had some time together, some good talks. Jack knew he had to count himself fortunate for that much. David had to make his own way now. That was all there was to it.

  He bowed his head and said a quick prayer. “Dear heavenly Father above, please guide and protect my son wherever he goes, whatever he does. If he ever needs us, please help him remember we’re still here and we love him.”

  DAVID HAD FORGOTTEN ALL ABOUT NEW YEAR’S EVE. THE PAST FEW days, since he had left his father’s house, he had pretty much lost track of time. Easy to do on Angel Island. In fact, it was almost expected, the reason a lot of people came here.

  There was little sign of the holiday at the Angel Inn. But in the early afternoon, just as he was leaving for a walk, he passed a young couple, about his age or a few years older, walking in. So that made three guests staying here, including him. The place was getting crowded.

  The couple looked happy together and he envied them. He thought about Christine, wondering where she would be tonight, what she’d be doing. Ringing in the New Year with her fiancé, he guessed, kissing him at midnight.

  He pulled himself back from picturing that scene. He wasn’t here to think about her, to wallow in his hopeless, pointless feelings. He was here to sort things out in his head. When he left the tree farm, he knew for certain he had to go. There was no question. He had felt so relieved leaving there, as if a giant weight had been lifted off his back, as if he could finally take a good, deep breath.

  He had hitched a ride to town and stopped at the Clam Box for breakfast. It wasn’t even light out yet, and the place was just opening up. There was only one other customer, a truck driver who sat nearby at the counter. Noticing the army duffel and David’s jacket, the trucker struck up a conversation then ended up offering David a lift. He was driving north, making deliveries all the way to Toronto. David quickly accepted. He had expected to hitch up to the turnpike before finding a good ride like this one.

  “I just need to stop on Angel Island, then we’ll get on the highway,” the trucker explained as David climbed into the cab. “I have a delivery to make at the General Store.”

  “Sure, no problem.” David clipped his seat belt, thinking the island would look interesting this early in the day, with the sun just rising and flocks of sea birds feeding on the shoreline.

  It did look interesting. Beautiful and mysterious. David felt some static sensation in his mind clearing instantly as they drove over the land bridge and up the same road he had been on a few days ago with his father. They passed the inn and eventually arrived at the little cluster of shops.

  The driver parked in front of the General Store and hopped out. David hopped out, too. He offered to help the driver unload his delivery, but the man waved him off. “That’s okay. I just have to settle this bill. I’ll be right out.”

  David wasn’t really sure how it happened, what impulse had taken hold of him. Some people said the island held mysterious powers. Spiritual powers. Healing energy. There was some legend, too, but he couldn’t really remember it.

  Didn’t matter. He wouldn’t go that far, but the place always got to him, touched him deep down inside. He breathed in the sea air and instantly felt calmer. He stared around at the deserted road and past the few shops, all shut tight. He spied the beach and ocean in the distance, past an open stretch of land.

  There was no sound but his own breath and some gulls, calling out on the beach. There was not a soul in sight. The silence and solitude, the early morning light illuminating the blue sky, it all seemed almost—sacred.

  This was a good place, he thought. As good a place as any—maybe better than most—to stop and think. To sort out the questions that plagued him. To figure out some sort of plan.

  The trucker had been confused when David told him he was staying on the island, but he drove David back up the road to the Angel Inn and David grabbed his gear.

  “Good luck, soldier,” the trucker said a
s David hopped out of the cab again.

  “Thanks. I need it,” David admitted.

  He needed more than luck. He needed . . . a revelation.

  The past few days, he had been hanging out, walking the beach, thinking things through. So far, he’d only come to one conclusion: Running away solved nothing.

  Now, he walked along the water’s edge, long enough so that the inn disappeared from view and the high bluffs came into sight. David knew it would be a challenge to climb the steep path up to the top, but something compelled him to try. He had been away from the PT sessions for almost a week. He didn’t want to get soft, did he?

  He struggled up the path, slipping back and even falling to his knees at one point. He used his cane like a pick, steadying his balance and levering himself up, step-by-step.

  The climb was arduous, but for some reason, the effort felt like it meant something. Maybe it just helped him feel he had accomplished something today besides wading around in his own confusion.

  The view from the top was astounding, an ample reward for his hard work. Dizzying. Amazing. Well worth the aches in his legs and hip. David took deep, gasping breaths as he turned his head to take it all in. The beach was far below, the waves moving in slow motion at this distance. Far off, he spotted the rooftop of the inn, a tiny white building, nestled in a clump of trees.

  The very edge of the bluff was rocky but soon stretched out to a large flat meadow, covered this time of year with brown and yellow beach grass and large boulders.

  Hadn’t his father brought him up here once? David made his way across the field, toward a large flat rock, a good place to sit and rest. He seemed to remember sitting on the big rock once with Jack after they climbed the bluff. His mother had not come. She wasn’t very athletic and liked to let Jack have his little adventures alone with his son.