Catching Christmas

by Leah Atwood

  Catching Christmas

  A Christmas Novella

  Leah Atwood

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Copyright © 2018 by Leah Atwood

  Cover Design © Covers by Ramona

  Cover Image © Adobestock.com

  Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the HCSB®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. HCSB® is a federally registered trademark of Holman Bible Publishers.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  To all who are weighed down by life—may you find peace and joy this Christmas

  For a child will be born for us, a son will be given to us, and the government will be on His shoulders. He will be named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.

  Isaiah 9:6

  Chapter One

  Brenna Forsythe stole a glance at the clock on her dash and cringed. She should have been at her moms’ house in Noel, Maine two hours ago, but Thanksgiving traffic stalled her on every highway.

  A black sports coupe cut her off from the turn lane ahead. She scowled and resisted the urge to lay a heavy hand on the horn. Instead, she turned up the volume and sang along with “Holly Jolly Christmas” as it played on satellite radio. It’s the only way she would survive this traffic.

  She couldn’t find another space wide enough to change lanes, and so she inched to the next exit. Her GPS readjusted the route and added an extra ten minutes to her arrival time. More like thirty minutes. She sang even louder, as though the noise could cover her frustration.

  An hour later, she neared the final stretch. She drove through Hanville, the last incorporated town before she came to Noel. Lit silhouettes of angels, bells, and toy soldiers hung from streetlights, and evergreen wreaths with red velvet bows brought the holiday alive.

  After a long, headache-inducing drive home, she needed this. Now that she wasn’t forced to move at a snail’s pace, she didn’t mind driving slow through town to admire each decoration. It was only a sampling of what she’d see in another fifteen minutes. A town called Noel couldn’t ignore its link to Christmas. With two annual Christmas festivals—one in July and one in December—and a litany of awards from tourism associations, Noel stayed decorated in reds and greens all year long.

  The lights of Hanville faded in the rearview mirror. Brenna relaxed in her leather, heated seat and turned down the radio until the volume became a faint whisper. She hummed quietly to “Angels We Have Heard on High” while reflecting on her trip home.

  She hadn’t been to Noel since her dad’s funeral three years ago. His absence and the memories of him that she couldn’t escape while home made it too difficult to be there. It would be different if she didn’t have a life elsewhere, but her career in graphic design kept her busy—at least that’s how she justified her absence.

  Doubts flailed against her. Maybe she should have told Mom she was coming, but she hadn’t known until she was on the road that she’d follow through with the trip. Even now, she couldn’t explain why she’d chosen this Thanksgiving to return, except for an internal nudge drawing her to the familiarity of her childhood.

  She reached the outskirts of Noel. Something wasn’t right. She darted her gaze from left to right, only saw one home with lights. In any other town, that might be acceptable since many families decorated after Thanksgiving, but not in Noel. She’d always loved this stretch of road, where every home became a winter wonderland that lit the path to town starting in October.

  As she drove closer to city limits, a brick formed in her gut. If she hadn’t seen that one house with lights she could have passed off the darkness to a power outage. Maybe… If she remembered correctly, that house belonged to Hank Rodgers, who’d always had a generator. That had to be the explanation.

  Convinced she’d found the answer, the brick didn’t feel so heavy. Yesterday’s ice storm must have knocked out some wires. She didn’t question the holes in her theory. For now, ignorance was bliss until proven otherwise.

  Her entrance into town swiftly kicked away any and all false hope she’d harbored. Only streetlights illuminated the road and not all of them at that. She counted three lights out, a strange and unheard phenomenon in Noel. No Christmas lights, no wreaths, no hint of evergreens anywhere.

  Only a handful of stores had their lights on. That in itself didn’t worry Brenna—most shops in Noel closed early on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving—but the complete lack of Christmas décor caused the brick of concern to stab her insides.

  Never, in all of her twenty-nine years, had she seen Main Street void of Christmas decorations. Even in spring and fall, outside of festival seasons, holiday décor was easy to spot. Curiosity got the better of her, and she pulled off in front of Honey’s Bakery.

  A handwritten sign on the door announced they’d close at eight tonight, later than normal to accommodate the last-minute preppers who still needed to buy their rolls and pies for the big meal tomorrow. The solitary strand of garland across a display case did little to ease the discomfiture growing in Brenna.

  She stood to the side until the two customers ahead of her had been served. By the time she stepped to the counter, she’d decided to purchase a raisin Danish to give her mom as a peace offering, er, apology.

  “Brenna Forsythe, is that you?”

  She jerked her head up and saw Vanna Whitman behind the counter. She hadn’t recognized her at first. “How are you?”

  “I’m good.” Vanna frowned and wiped her hands down her apron. “Well, to be honest, I’ve been better, but there’s always something to be thankful for.”

  “Yes, there is.” She wanted to press for information, but restrained herself until niceties finished.

  “Visiting your mom for Thanksgiving?”

  “Yes.” She pointed to the Danishes. “I want to take her home one of those.”

  “Good choice. She’s always loved them.” Vanna grabbed one with a set of prongs and dropped it into a brown treat bag. “I’ll add an extra for Beth. Wouldn’t want to see a fight over it.”

  “My sister is here?” Her jaw tensed.

  Vanna gave her a sideways glance. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  Obviously, Brenna had missed an important piece of information. Or several. “I thought she had other plans. I guess she changed her mind.”

  “How long are you here for?” Vanna handed her the bag and told Brenna her total.

  “Not sure. Through the weekend at least.” She gave Vanna a five dollar bill.

  “Let’s have coffee before you leave and catch up. It’s been a long time.”

  “I’d like that.” After she said the words, she realized she meant them. She and Vanna had been good friends in high school, but they’d drifted apart after graduation when their lives took different paths. She pulled out a business card and gave it to her. “Give me a call, and we’ll figure out a time.”

  “Great.” Vanna pulled several coins from the register. “Here’s your change.
”

  “Keep it.” The coins clinked against the glass tip jar, echoing in the emptiness. Brenna licked her lips. She’d come in for a purpose, and now she had to face the truth. “What’s happened here?”

  A shroud of sadness covered Vanna. “Ever since the factory closed, Noel hasn’t been the same.”

  “Wait, the factory closed? When?”

  “Right before Christmas two years ago.” Vanna tilted her head. “I’m surprised no one told you.”

  Brenna blinked, absorbing the shock, then frowned with a mix of embarrassment and sorrow. “I’ve kept my distance since…”

  Understanding dawned on Vanna’s, and she offered a gentle smile. “Your dad was a pillar of the community. We all miss him.”

  The lack of judgment from Vanna shaved a layer from Brenna’s guilt. “Even with the factory closed, what happened? There are hardly any Christmas decorations anywhere. What about the festival next weekend?”

  Vanna swallowed. “There is no festival this year.”

  She gasped. “What? How can that be?”

  “There’s no money in the town budget. A lot of families had to move when the factory shut down and that affected the remaining businesses, which in turn cut the town’s revenue.” Vanna gestured her hand in a wide circle around the bakery. “I’ve been fortunate, but there are months I’m even struggling to turn a profit.”

  “What about tourism? That’s always been a huge industry for us.” Her last word caught her off guard. More than a decade after she’d moved away, and three years since she’d stepped foot in town, she still considered herself a Noeler. Some things never changed no matter how hard she tried to put it behind her.

  “Even that’s dropped off.” Vanna sighed. “The world’s changed. People are too busy to celebrate Christmas anymore, let alone take time off to visit a Christmas-themed town.”

  “There has to be a solution. This is Noel—we are resilient.” Are you? Then why have you stayed away for so long? Ouch.

  “We tried, but we got hit with one storm after another. Eventually, our spirits wore thin.”

  Brenna shook her head. “Then we’ll just have to give them a boost.”

  A sad smile flickered on Vanna’s mouth. “If only it were that simple.”

  “I know I’ve been gone, but this is my home.” Pride welled in in her chest. “I’ve run from the memories of Dad, but in the process, pushed aside many great ones. Growing up in Noel gave me an idyllic childhood that many kids only dream of.”

  “It makes me sad that my own children won’t experience that.” Vanna’s gaze shifted to a family photo hanging on the wall. “They’re too young to remember the good days.”

  Determination took root and sprouted through Brenna’s soul. “We’ll get those days back. I might not be able to solve all the problems, but I won’t leave until Noel regains it’s Christmas spirit.”

  “If only it were that easy.” Vanna stepped out from behind the counter and walked to the door to turn the sign from Open to Closed. “I don’t want to be a negative Nancy, but it’s bad. Stick around long enough, and you’ll see for yourself.”

  “It might be so, but isn’t Christmas the time for miracles?”

  “We definitely need one.” Vanna removed her apron and hung it on a peg.

  Taking the cue, Brenna held up her bag. “Thanks for the Danishes. Give me a call, and we’ll get together. Have a happy Thanksgiving.”

  “You too.”

  Brenna left Honey’s Bakery, weighed down by guilt and remorse. How could her hometown disintegrate and she knew nothing about it? It wasn’t right. Vanna hadn’t sounded hopeful, but Brenna couldn’t believe this was the end of Noel as she’d known it.

  She’d go home, talk to her mom…and sister…and gather more information. Knowledge was power, and with that, she’d find a way to bring Christmas back to Noel.

  Chapter Two

  Derek Thomas tossed the blighted properties report in the trash. Yes, his position as Noel’s mayor occasionally required unpleasant tasks, but today wasn’t the day. Only a cold-hearted monster would send out letters the day after Thanksgiving informing the residents they must clean up their properties or face repercussions.

  On second thought, he retrieved the list from the top of the trash pile. He had first-hand knowledge that most of these families couldn’t afford the needed repairs, or they’d have taken care of them already. Going down the list, he noted the skills and tools needed for each home. Some were as simple as overgrown yards that hadn’t been cut all summer, and now foot-tall, dead grass draped in heaps.

  Why hadn’t anyone stepped in and helped Mr. Werther? The ninety-year-old World War II Veteran shouldn’t be on this list—his yard should have been taken care of months ago and on a regular basis. And why hadn’t any of the neighbors helped Stephanie Norville tear down the dilapidated shed that collapsed? The single mom of four had enough other problems to worry about.

  Come Monday, he’d call the local churches and civic organizations and arrange what help he could for these families. Noel faced hard times, but the only way they’d make it through was to stick together.

  He tidied his desk, prepared to leave for a few hours. Most shops in town offered Black Friday specials, and he wanted to check them out, or rather, he planned to scope out the foot traffic. Once upon a time, not that long ago, Noel’s Main Street sidewalks had been jampacked, not just on Black Friday, but all through November and December.

  Not anymore. He almost dreaded going out and facing the dwindling crowds—if they could be called that. Either way, he’d do his part in supporting the small businesses in town. By day’s end, he hoped to complete his Christmas shopping.

  “Hello,” a disembodied voice called out from the lobby of City Hall.

  Derek left his desk to greet the visitor and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who it was. He should have recognized the voice, could only blame it on the walls muffling her tone. “Can I help you?”

  Brenna Forsythe spun around to face him. Her face reflected the same surprise his must have registered moments before. “Derek?”

  “In the flesh.” He couldn’t keep a smile from forming. No matter what had happened between them, it was good to see his old friend.

  “I haven’t seen you in forever.” Her eyes traveled over him. “You look good.”

  “So do you.” Despite years of living in the city, she hadn’t lost her girl-next-door charm. Her blonde hair was as natural as it had been when they were kids, a shade many paid hundreds to achieve at salons. Her hazel eyes had lost the sparkle from their younger days but none of their depth. “What brings you back to Noel?”

  She took a breath and glanced around the room, seeming to hesitate in answering. “It was time.”

  “How long are you home for?”

  “Indefinitely.” Sadness flickered in her eyes before an indelible smile reached across her face. “Is the mayor in? I actually stopped by to speak with him.”

  Derek waved his hands inward, pointing to himself. “You’re looking at him.”

  “You’re the mayor?” Her eyes nearly popped out.

  He let out a chuckle, glad to know she hadn’t lost her inability to hide her emotions. “Is it that hard to believe?”

  “No, I…” She trailed off and shook her head. “My family tells me nothing.”

  Although curious about her statement, he moved the conversation forward. “What can I help you with?”

  “This town. I hadn’t realized Noel suffered so much.” She turned her neck and gazed out the side window, to where the festivals were once held.

  “We’ve had a rough few years.” He blew out a sigh. “Morale’s at an all-time low.”

  “There has to be a way to revitalize the town.”

  “I agree.” He gestured toward the door. “I was on my way out to see how the shopping looks. Care to join me, and we can chat as we go?”

  “Sure. Maybe that will help me brainstorm.”

  “Brainstor
m what?” He grabbed his coat and slipped his arms through the sleeves.

  “A plan to restore Noel to its glory.”

  He nodded slowly, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. “If anyone can accomplish that goal, you’d be the one.”

  “I still don’t understand why no one told me.” A cloud hung over her, dampening her natural glow.

  “You did a good job distancing yourself from us, Bren.” The nickname slipped from his tongue too easily. “You didn’t want to be a part of us, so why bother you with our struggles?”

  She breathed in and exhaled at a slow rate. “It’s not that simple, and you know it.”

  “Yes, I do, but at its core, that’s the truth.” He wrapped his navy blue wool scarf around his neck twice. “And for the record, I understand. You had a life to live outside of Noel. Not everyone is made for small-town life, and that’s okay. I don’t hold it against you, neither does anyone I know.”

  “Doesn’t feel like it,” she muttered. “It’s not like I turned my back on the town. I came back often—until Dad died.”

  He cupped her shoulder in a gentle touch. “It’s okay.”

  Shrugging away, she adjusted the toggle buttons on her coat. “Beth subjected me to an hour-long lecture last night after Mom went to bed, letting me know how irresponsible and selfish I’ve been.”

  “Your sister changed after her divorce this summer.” He let go of her shoulder and reached in his pocket for the keys to City Hall. “Try not to take it personally.”

  Brenna rolled her eyes. “Easier said than done.”

  “I know. Put it aside for now, and immerse yourself in the greatest display of America’s commercialism.” Walking toward the door, he turned his head when he realized she wasn’t following. “Coming?”

  After several long strides, she caught up to him. “Black Friday isn’t all bad. A lot of work goes into the ads produced for the sales, and the influx of customers give stores extra hours, thus providing more income to families at a time when it’s dearly needed.”