From a square box that suddenly appeared in his hands, Brian withdrew an ornament of shiny blue glass with silver lettering on one side of it. She could not make out what it said, but she didn’t need her eyes; her memory knew it spelled out his name. This was Brian’s’s precious name ball, a family heirloom, and she watched as he hung it securely on a high branch. His mother, dressed in a cardigan sweater, with a string of pearls around her neck, took hold of another of the ornaments, hers golden in color and the name “Didi” written across it. She chose a branch and seemed very satisfied with it. At last came Brian’s father, a man seemingly as large as the tree itself. He pulled out a red ball that read “Kevin,” and it reflected off the flame in the fireplace. The glare caught Janey’s eye and she blinked away glittering spots and missed where he placed it; either that or her gaze didn’t reach that high. When she refocused, she saw the three of them each taking a turn with another ball, this one blue, and as Brian’s mother placed it on the branch nearest hers, she clutched at her pearls and allowed her husband to embrace her.
“Remember Philip,” she said.
“So many years since our ornaments have hung together on one tree,” his father said.
“The Duncan family, together.”
“Almost,” Brian added.
Yes, almost, Janey thought, nearly screaming those words inside her mind. Me, I’m not there, even though you called out for me. Why hadn’t she joined them, and where was her name ornament? If this was indeed the Christmas of now, where was Janey Sullivan and where were last year’s gifts that she would hang on the tree? Ornaments that sealed two families as one?
“Mama . . . Mama, where am I?”
The scene before her faded like smoke, and the windmill again went dark.
All she felt was the warmth of her mother’s hand, even though she could not see it.
Early dawn broke, the sun still hidden behind clouds. Snow still fell and cold began to creep in through the cracks of the old farmhouse. The little girl stirred, opened her eyes. The room was unfamiliar to her, and for a moment she felt fear strike within her heart. Fallen to the floor was her purple frog, a dust bunny on one of its arms. She scooped him up and brushed at him, then returned him to her grip.
She was glad to see the light of morning, no matter how dim.
The Knights’ house was silent; not even Jake’s morning wail had begun.
Pulling back the covers, Janey padded her way to the window. Snow was everywhere, on the tree branches and all across the wide stretch of land. No school today, she thought, and then remembered it was Saturday. And not just any Saturday, but Green’s Tree Farm Saturday, where she and Brian would go to chop down the tree that would make their home glow for the season. They would take it home and they would decorate it and they would adorn its thick branches with the ornaments that made their past two Christmases so special.
Just she and Brian, like it was supposed to be.
Except that wasn’t how this Christmas would unfold. She’d seen it, maybe in her dreams or maybe not; maybe it was as real as the snow that blanketed the region. A blast of wind blew by, rattling the old house. She shivered and hid back under the blankets, hiding even her eyes from the light of the new day. Sometimes only the chill could embrace your heart, no matter the warmth you desired. Sometimes not even purple frogs that conjured memories of old could save you. Sometimes the notion of tomorrow represented your only escape, and whether you ran to it or hid from its unknown promises decided the wonders that awaited your life.
PART 2
THE DUNCAN FAMILY
CHAPTER 11
BRIAN
Brian Duncan learned two things about his mother that Saturday morning, the first of which was how skilled she was at deception, the second her powers of observation. The first he discovered when Didi Duncan phoned at ten o’clock that morning and announced that she and his father had just seen their first mile marker for Linden Corners, “only five miles away, Brian,” she said without a trace of guile to her voice, and the other he didn’t ascertain until after they’d pulled into the driveway and he saw the way his mother studied the battered old truck they had parked beside.
He didn’t say anything about her fib, nor did he offer why his truck might have been in front of a motel room past midnight, not that she even asked about it. No matter, the truck had not remained there for long, not after the abrupt and surprising arrival of his weary parents to the Solemn Nights Motel had killed the mood. Partly reluctant, partly relieved, Brian Duncan had extended his apologies to an understanding Trina before sneaking off under cover of the snowy night. Now morning had arrived and so had his long-awaited reunion with his parents, and it was going as expected; his mother’s cool reserve might have breathed a fresh sheen of ice over the freshly fallen drifts of snow. It was almost like an understanding quickly existed between them—she knew what he’d been doing there and he knew what she’d done and didn’t we both get along so much better when we buried our suspicions?
“Hello, Brian, dear,” his mother said, embracing him as he stepped out onto the porch.
“Hi, Mom,” he replied as they parted, as expected, quickly.
“Look at you, son, lord of the country manor,” said his father as he took in the spread of land in which the farmhouse stood. His father, usually so larger than life, with a booming voice, seemed reduced somehow, though it could have been because in Linden Corners all seemed to be done on a smaller scale. He was thinner, Brian thought, or maybe that was a result of seeing him in something other his usual business attire. And while he wore no tie and his jeans were loose, his mother’s signature pearls hung around her collared neck, tightly strung, not unlike the woman who wore them.
“The rural, rustic version, but yeah, that’s me. Welcome, Dad.”
Brian accepted a surprising, warm embrace from his father, recalling that Kevin Duncan was known mostly as a handshaker. But as father and son reunited, Brian kept his eyes focused on his mother as she gazed over the property, her narrowed eyes returning to the old truck. He was thankful that the snow had continued to fall last night, leaving the hood of the vehicle partially unrecognizable.
“Where is that young cherub of yours?” Kevin asked with a clap of his hands. “I thought for sure she’d be first out that door and running a blue streak fast as her little legs could take her. Straight into my arms. Ha ha.”
“Oh, Janey stayed overnight at Cynthia’s,” Brian offered, carefully watching his mother’s coiled expression as he revealed he’d not needed to be home last night. Further evidence for his snooping mother. “And she’s not so little. She’s grown a lot in two years.”
“Has it been two years? My, how time flies.”
“Yes, girls do grow up faster than boys,” Didi added. “Physically and emotionally too.”
“Is that supposed to mean something, Mom?”
“Oh, Brian, don’t go looking for messages where there are none. I’m just observing that it’s best that a girl of Janey’s age have a strong woman’s influence in her life. From what you’ve told me about Cynthia, she’s the closest the poor girl has to a mother. It’s important they retain that bond.”
Brian decided now was hardly the time to discuss the Knights’ upcoming departure from Linden Corners and their lives. Instead he changed the subject by suggesting they come inside for a cup of hot coffee. Winter had definitely announced itself.
“I thought for sure you’d first want to show us that charming windmill,” Didi said. “We must have missed it on our drive in. Brian, you said it was on the side of the road as you came into town. I hardly think we would have missed such a sight, if as you say . . .”
“It’s everything I’ve said it is, and more. Trust me, you can’t not see the windmill,” Brian said, obvious pride filling his voice. “But we have to wait for Janey to return home; otherwise, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Dear, you still haven’t learned much about raising children,” she said, a comment that
to her was a throwaway one, but to Brian was a cut right through his heart. “You don’t let them control the flow of events. Have a plan, stick with it.”
“Didi, don’t start with the boy . . .”
As amused as Brian was by his father’s description of his son, what happened next surprised him more, and it made him wonder less what was wrong with his father and more what was wrong with his mother. Because Didi Duncan just capitulated to her husband’s request without further argument, saying, “I suppose you’re right, Kevin, all in good time. We’re here to relax, after all, and enjoy the holiday. Now, I suggest we get inside where hopefully it’s toasty warm and take Brian up on his offer of coffee. Oh, Brian, do you have tea? No caffeine?”
“Uh, sure,” he said, growing uncertainty leading the way.
He led them down the snow-covered walkway, apologizing for not having had a chance to shovel a clear path yet. Once inside, he led them to the kitchen and offered them chairs at the round table in the center of the room, watching his parents’ expressions as they took in the details of the country-style room. Red gingham curtains, simple wood furnishings, and of course on the wall the windmill clock that indicted only ten minutes had passed since he’d heard the crunch of their tires against gravel. Felt more like ten days already. Still, they offered up kind words about his home, gentle compliments about how homey it all felt. Brian nodded silently as he set about making tea.
“It’s pretty much unchanged from when Annie ruled the kitchen.”
“Still so sad what happened,” Kevin said with a shake of his head.
Brian didn’t want to go there, not now. “So, you must have gotten an early start if you’re here, uh, so early,” Brian said.
“We left Philadelphia yesterday,” Kevin said, “drove up the turnpike and spent the day in Manhattan, saw the tree at Rockefeller Center . . .”
“You know, to put us in the holiday spirit,” Didi said.
“We left after dinner, made our way up the Taconic, only to find ourselves in the midst of this unexpected snowstorm,” he said. “At Didi’s request, we found ourselves a roadside motel, not realizing just how close to Linden Corners we were.”
Uh-oh, here we go, Brian thought.
“Yes, the Solemn Nights,” Didi said. “Do you know it, Brian?”
He was trying to determine what she really knew and what she was guessing at. Had she seen him depart, the noise of his engine causing her to look out the window? No matter what she thought, he decided it was more fun to keep her guessing, watching her sly grin turn to a grimace as he said, “Of course, who in town doesn’t know the Solemn Nights? It’s the only place near Linden Corners to stay. As a point of fact, I stayed there when I first came to town. Looks like we’re on similar paths. Next thing you’ll tell me you had breakfast at the Five-O.”
“I’m sorry, the what . . . ?” Kevin asked.
“Our local diner. You’ll get there soon enough. Anyway, why don’t I phone over to Cynthia’s and get Janey back home? We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
“Oh, I hope not one too taxing,” Didi said. “We need our rest.”
“Didi, relax. We’re here, and we’re ready for the true Linden Corners experience. Just as Brian has been promising us all this time.”
His mother’s expression read differently.
Brian considered the string of evidence that was laid out before him, detecting a strange phenomenon occurring. His tireless mother had never needed a midday rest in her life; she wasn’t wired that way. And as for his father, a nap in the afternoon, according to his philosophy, would mean a loss of potential earnings that would bring about a noticeable depreciation in his portfolio. At least, that’s the way his father used to talk, today just nodding as if he was agreeing with his wife. Why did his father need a rest in the middle of the day, and worse, why was he so easily accepting of it? But Brian let it go; there would be endless stretches of days ahead of them and no doubt awkward silences for them to fill. For now, he wanted Janey at his side to greet her . . . her what? With all that had been going on, he hadn’t given further thought to what Janey would call his parents, the idea having popped into his mind when he overheard her and Sara discussing it. Brian racked his brain to remember what she’d called them during the trip two years ago to Philadelphia for Thanksgiving, and while he came up empty, did those names even apply today? Back then he’d been Brian to her, and now he was Dad.
About to pick up the phone, he heard the front door open, and in walked Janey. She was not her usual boundless self, keeping her energy on reserve. Brian had to think her behavior was partly Cynthia’s doing, who was thankfully coming in behind her. No doubt they’d both seen the additional car with the Pennsylvania plates in the driveway.
“Well, look at who decided to return home,” Brian said.
His parents turned to see who it was, setting down cups of tea. Kevin’s face lit up at the sight of Janey. His mother held her smile tight, not out of dislike or disapproval; it was just her way. It was probably how she’d greet Jesus if he magically appeared before her and turned her tea into fine wine.
“Janey, my dear, why, look at how big you’ve grown,” Kevin said with a warm smile, rising from his chair. Two years ago Janey had charmed him so, and Brian supposed that glow either hadn’t worn off or had been given fresh life from anticipation. Kevin held out his arms and Janey allowed herself to be wrapped into the embrace of the large man, Brian watching as she was nearly swallowed up. Maybe he’d been wrong about any changes in his father, since Janey was the one who had grown.
As the sweet reunion ended, Janey then turned to greet Didi, who bent down and allowed Janey to peck her warmly on the cheek. “It’s lovely to see you again, Jane, and I do find myself agreeing with my husband. You have grown a foot, it seems, if you’ve grown an inch.”
“Well, I sure grew more than an inch,” Janey pronounced.
“There you go,” Didi said.
She’d actually grown six inches, but the compliment still made Janey beam, the smile conjured despite the anxious fact that Didi had referred to her as Jane. His mother had detested the singsong nature of the childish name when first she’d heard it, and clearly her opinion remained the same. Oh, this ought to be fun, Brian thought, two weeks with all of them suffering identity issues.
“Dad, why didn’t you call and tell me your parents were here?”
“Don’t blame him. We just got here and only now settled in for some tea,” Kevin said.
Cynthia had been hovering by the doorframe while Janey enjoyed her reunion, and only now did she step forward, her hand outstretched. “Mr. and Mrs. Duncan . . .”
“Sorry, that’s my bad,” Brian said, assuming control of the introductions. “Kevin and Didi Duncan, this is Cynthia Knight, our neighbor and best friend, my confidante and most of all Janey’s savior. And oh, I don’t know, she’s lots of other things.”
Cynthia blushed over the string of compliments he’d tied together, waving them off with a sheepish smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, you’ve raised a very kind son,” she said.
“Well, Cynthia, we’ve heard a lot about you, and we certainly do thank you for all you’ve done for Brian,” Didi said. “And please, call me Didi. And he’s Kevin.”
Brian couldn’t help but notice she hadn’t offered the same option to Janey.
Janey had called them “his parents.”
He’d have to nip this one in the bud, once he settled on how best to approach the topic.
“Are you ready for a big day?” Janey asked.
“We keep hearing about plans but haven’t heard anything specific,” Kevin said.
“Welcome to life with Janey. She’ll keep you on your toes,” Brian explained.
“You’ll need to keep your toes all bundled up,” Janey said, her smooth transition catching his mother’s attention.
“And why is that, dear?”
“Because we’re going into the woods to cut down our Christmas tree!”
&n
bsp; “That sounds like a marvelous plan,” Kevin said.
“We’ll talk about it,” Didi countered, all too quickly.
Janey’s face deflated at the thought of a possible change in plans, causing Brian to spring into action by suggesting Janey go upstairs and get ready while he helped get his parents settled. Maybe it was his tone, maybe it had been his mother’s lack of enthusiasm, but Janey did as asked without complaint, and soon she disappeared upstairs. Cynthia too said her good-byes, telling them all to enjoy the day and saying she hoped to see them soon.
“I’ll walk you out,” Brian stated.
He followed her, neither of them speaking until they’d stepped out onto the front porch and out of earshot. Brian wrapped his arms around himself against the cold.
“Wow, you were right about your mother,” she said.
“That’s not why I’m cold,” he said, and then grinned. “Sort of.”
Cynthia laughed. “How long are they staying?”
He didn’t want to think about it. “Long enough. How was Janey last night?”
“Last night fine, this morning . . . a bit odd.”
“How so?”
“Quiet.”
Brian nodded as though he’d been expecting to hear such an answer. He’d known Janey long enough to know her moods, and her silence was a classic Sullivan move. When something was bothering her, she handled it by clamming up. Annie had made him suffer so on several occasions, and apparently she’d handily passed the trait down to her daughter. Brian would have to pay careful attention and ensure that Janey felt as included as possible with all he’d planned for his parents’ visit. For too long they’d passed quiet judgment on his newfound life in Linden Corners without knowing a thing about it other than his stories, which had grown fewer and fewer each time they spoke. It was clear they lived on different planes, and while they believed there was an indulgent fantasy to his life, the reality was far different. Caring for a ten-year-old girl who’d lost both her parents before she’d turned eight was not without its challenges. Yet here Kevin and Didi were to see it firsthand, and at last he would get to show them around, and they would experience for themselves why he’d fallen in love with a town that had fallen in love with him.
Memory Tree Page 15
