Brian didn’t feel much like a poet, and, standing outside on the porch in the freezing cold weather, Christmas Day was beginning with something other than a gift. He hadn’t brought his coat because he thought this was just going to be a quick good-bye. Maybe it was.
“Trina, at least stay for one more day. Haven’t you been saying all along you expected a traditional holiday? Snow, gifts, lights, the crackle of the fireplace, and most important, family to surround you. It’s the whole package. You’ve got it right here, with Mark and Sara and another Ravens to soon join the family. And to make things even more ideal, there’s even a little girl who still dreams, who still believes in the magic this day brings.”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m leaving.”
“Janey? I don’t understand.”
Trina hugged herself, and Brian could feel the distance between them growing already. In her car, parked in the driveway just a few feet away, he could see Richie Ravens in the backseat, no doubt stretching out his leg. He was healing but still had a long road ahead of him. It was an apt metaphor, Brian thought, and in that instant he knew that no matter what he said, his words would only bounce off her. Her mind was made up, and worse, so was her heart.
“Brian, I came to Linden Corners thinking I would help Richie . . . Dad, and maybe I’d get to know him a little better, understand why he chose the path he did. During my stay, something else happened. I got to know myself a little better, and in his stubborn way, I have him to thank, but I also have you.”
“Me? All I did was pour you a couple of shots.”
“You gave me a shot in the arm is what you did, Brian Duncan,” she said. “I have a new chance at having a family—so before I jump into the deep end with a wonderful man and a young girl, as you say, who have the whole package—I think I need to take things a bit more slowly. I need to learn first how to be a daughter.” She paused, her eyes moist. Brian’s were too. “After the motel burned down, something inside me told me it was time to move on. As Richie will tell you, living in a motel is a transient existence, and once it’s gone . . . well, what’s left? The open road, and whatever adventures await us.”
“You sound like me, a couple of years ago.”
“Which is why you should understand.”
“I do, Trina . . . but . . .”
“Brian, no more buts. Like we said during our first date, some woman had to be your first after Annie. There will be others too, and one day, there will be the one. I’m sorry it’s not me. You’re so special, the warmth you bring out in others, your generosity of spirit and time. What you’ve done for Janey after all she has faced . . . some woman out there is going to find herself the luckiest girl on earth.”
Brian nodded, her words beginning to sink deep inside him. Perhaps he knew all along that Trina was a first step indeed, someone to help him begin to finally move on. She’d allowed him to walk more than one, and indeed one of those steps had led him into her arms, her bed. It was all so fleeting, their time together relegated to memories.
“What about Mark and Sara? They’re family.”
“Oh, I think they’ve always been among family,” she said. “We’ll call them to explain.”
“So, you really were just passing through?”
“Sometimes words are truth; you just don’t always know it . . . until you do.”
“So now what?”
“This,” she said, and leaned forward to plant one last kiss upon his lips.
Brian wanted to take her into his arms in a sweeping gesture of romance, and it would have been perfect, as the snow had begun to fall and glint off the dim light of the porch, but only one thing kept him from acting on it. It couldn’t have been perfect, because Trina wouldn’t allow it to be. When she pulled back, he knew he’d lost her for good.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he said.
Trina looked back at the car, smiled. “I think I already did.”
“Where will you go?”
“Brian Duncan, I’ll say this in a way that only you can understand,” she said, and then, with a smile that suddenly opened up the entire world to her, she added, with the hint of a poet’s heart, “Wherever the wind takes us.”
She was gone seconds later, not just from the porch but also from his driveway and, soon, from Linden Corners and finally his life. How long he remained on the porch he couldn’t say. The Connors had already left for home, and his parents had gone upstairs, and Janey was fast asleep dreaming of Christmas morning, and once again Brian Duncan was awake and feeling alone in the farmhouse. Cold finally seeped deep enough inside him that he needed the fireplace, and so he turned to go back to the warmth found inside. A shiny object on the wicker chair on the side of the porch caught his attention. This time there was no cardboard box, just a brightly wrapped package in red foil and a silver ribbon adorning it.
There was only one difference, the message.
OPEN ME NOW
He did, paper wrapping tossed to the ground like he was a ten-year-old kid who could no longer wait, his eyes growing wide with surprise as he retrieved his gift. His mother’s memory tree of yesteryear grew into focus and he said aloud, to himself and perhaps to the wind that knew of things from the past, “Teddy?”
Brian Duncan didn’t know that it was possible to dream all night long when his eyes weren’t closed. It was like living inside a world somewhere between the one he knew, of memories from the past, and a world to be found, the present pulling at each piece of time, battling the other. Both of them kept him from moving toward a future he knew could only be filled with uncertainty, and, he supposed, a fair share of loneliness. Another relationship had fizzled out, this time even before really catching fire. Was it any wonder he wished to remain just where he was, hidden under the warm comfort of blankets inside his bedroom? It might be Christmas morning, but nothing yet was stirring, and in a farmhouse this old, that could actually include a mouse.
His dream took him back into the farthest reaches of his mind, where the past lived. What he saw in unfolding, sepia-colored images was a child, maybe six, maybe seven years old, and of course that child was himself. He waited near the top of the stairs of his childhood home. Behind him his sister Rebecca cradled him, and taking up the rear, his older brother, Philip, clearly too grown up to partake in such an event, but traditions won out over everything. At the base of the stairs was a Labrador retriever named Teddy, and he was barking up at them. Teddy had never liked the open stairs, but clearly he wanted to be part of the gang, of the family. The three Duncan kids, with stockings filled with toys and necessities in their hands, were ready to descend on Christmas morning, down the stairs and to the array of gifts that awaited them all beneath a glistening Christmas tree. Yet his dream led him to a different room, one lit by golden light.
It was here he found the Memory Tree.
Every year after they’d exchanged gifts, their mother would remind them of one last gift, and so they would make their way into the formal living room, where Didi Duncan could often be found sipping a cup of tea while sitting upon her antique sofa. It was in this room she set up her yearly Memory Tree, awash in white lights. There were three gifts under the tree, one for each of them, and their mother would say, before they opened them, “Those are from your grandmother.” This tradition continued long after Grandmother Locke was no longer with them.
Another set of images had the Memory Tree transforming itself into the windmill, alive like the tree with a dazzling display of illumination. There were gifts waiting there too, and not the ones placed by the residents of Linden Corners last night. No, these were gifts that were part of a bigger mystery, their appearance as uncertain, as confounding, as anything Brian had yet to experience. It had taken all his willpower to resist opening them, and his dream was letting him know that today the mystery would be solved, his Secret Santa exposed. Yet in his mind he saw empty boxes; it had all been a cruel deception, just alluring boxes wrapped with empty promises. The shin
y red paper reminded him of a car’s rear lights, and of course he had seen such a sight minutes before going to bed, with Trina disappearing into the night.
A ringing sound suddenly broke Brian from his reverie, and he realized it was the phone.
He was about to reach for it, but the ringing suddenly stopped. A moment later he heard a gentle knock at his door.
“Brian, dear, it’s your friend Mark on the telephone.”
“Thanks, Mom, I’ll take it in here.”
So he got out of bed and wrapped a robe around himself because it was cold in the house, picked up the cordless phone he kept on the bed stand.
“Mark, Merry Christmas,” he said.
“That it is,” Mark said, delight in his voice. “And I’d like to toast it later with a cigar.”
Brian immediately understood. “Mark, congratulations. Sara?”
“Sara and baby are doing just fine. She went into labor last night, just after midnight.”
Just as Richie Ravens was crossing over the border and out of Linden Corners, here came the arrival of a new member of the Ravens family to take his place. Life working its magic. Just then Janey came running into the room, jumping up and down with excitement, her purple frog dancing with her. He tried to hush her, whispering an aside that they could get their Christmas celebration started soon.
“Silly, ask him, is it a boy or a girl . . .”
Brian realized he hadn’t asked, and also detected that this baby held much promise for Janey. Seemed a lot of responsibility was already being put on the newborn Ravens child, what with baby Jake soon to be making an exit from Linden Corners too, not unlike the child’s great-uncle. He listened, and he nodded and then he sent his congratulations again. “We’ll see you soon; later today we’ll come by the hospital. Uh, Mark, have you talked with Richie, or Trina . . . ? Got it, yes.” At last he replaced the receiver, and Janey was still bouncing like she’d gotten new batteries in her stocking.
“Well?”
“It’s a boy,” he said, “Harry Ravens, after Mark’s father.”
“Wow, they came up with a name so quickly!”
By now Brian’s parents had joined them in the room. “What a lovely gift,” Didi said.
“Come on, I think there’s even more gifts that await us all, downstairs,” Kevin said.
Janey went dashing over to Kevin and took his hand, and together they made their way down the stairs. Baby Harry would wait; it was Christmas morning and a ten-year-old girl could wait only so long. Brian, though, remained behind, his mother too, clearly aware not all was right with him.
“Something on your mind, Brian?”
“Trina left,” he said.
She nodded. “I saw you two on the porch, and then I saw her leave. I’m sorry.”
“It’s for the best. I guess I’m not ready.”
Didi came over and embraced her son. “You always fall so hard, so fast.”
“I have to have one bad quality,” he said, an attempt at humor.
“Most women would find that rather appealing,” she replied.
Brian attempted a smile as he set the phone back down on the table. It was there he noticed the red collar one would put around a dog’s neck, the one from inside last night’s final Secret Santa gift. The leather was more than weathered; it was cracked with age. He took hold of it, showing his mother. “It was you all along, wasn’t it?”
Didi Duncan, when she allowed herself to smile, could light a room.
“But . . . how?”
“With a little help from your friends,” she said. “Gerta mostly.”
“Gerta? Remind me never to play poker with her.”
“I phoned her before Thanksgiving and told her my idea.”
“Which is what? Why give me Teddy’s old collar?”
“Shall we go downstairs and see about those other gifts Kevin was speaking of?”
“Mom, where are you going with this?”
She slipped her arm into his and said, her voice quavering, “Eventually everyone has to move on from loss, and while we all do so in our own time, I often find you need something new to focus on. I thought it was time you and Janey had something you both can share together. It’s called having something to look forward to.”
“If you’ve done what I think you have . . .”
“All I’ve done is brought a little more love into an already loving home.”
As they journeyed downward to the living room and the first Christmas they had spent together in years, the scene before him made Brian realize he would have to wait a bit longer to uncover the real story behind the Secret Santa gifts. This moment was all about Janey, and she attacked her presents with zeal. Too many gifts from Brian, that’s what Didi said, but she wasn’t being judgmental, and besides, how could you not be drawn in by the sheer exuberance on Janey’s face when the gift wrap was peeled away and revealed its secret. Clothes for her, clothes for her dolls, a tea set from Didi, and a laptop from Kevin, which Brian proclaimed was excessive.
“Nonsense, a studious girl like Janey needs the latest technology. You do have WiFi?”
“What about Brian? What did you get him?” Janey suddenly asked, looking up from her pile of spoils.
Kevin and Didi exchanged looks and said, “I guess it’s time.”
“Time for what?” Janey asked.
“I think we have to put on our boots and mittens,” Brian said. “To the windmill we go.”
Wonder crossed Janey’s eyes as she pieced together the evidence. She dashed to the hall closet and immediately tossed on her coat and readied herself for a wintery trek down the hill, all while urging the three of them to hurry up. It was just a few more minutes, Kevin delaying the moment with a quick phone call. What was that about? Brian wondered. Then the four of them—as well as Janey’s purple frog—stepped out into the frosty morning as a cold breeze swept across the backyard. Their feet crunched on frozen snow as the windmill’s sails rose over the crest of the hill, like it was pulling them closer, and at last they were standing before the door to the windmill, the sails passing just overhead. On the walk down, Janey had explained how the past two Christmases they had opened gifts inside the windmill, and Didi said, “I suppose we’ll be doing the same this year.”
“It’s a tradition!” Janey exclaimed.
Up the winding, iron staircase they went, Didi and Kevin settling on a small sofa in the corner while Janey eagerly accompanied Brian to the closet door. One by one he withdrew the four colorfully wrapped gifts, untouched from when they had first arrived, and set them on the floor. From his pocket he withdrew the red collar he’d received last night.
“What’s that?” Janey asked.
“It was in the fifth box, which arrived sometime last night.”
“Why did you open it?”
“Because the card said I could,” he explained. “Now I suppose it’s time to finally find out what’s inside these, since today is Christmas Day. What do you say, Janey, do you want to take the first one?”
“Sure, I love opening up presents,” she said.
“Before you do,” Didi said, “would you look at the gifts, all together?”
Brian did so, wondering what his mother was getting at. One was red, and another was blue, with green and gold completing the holiday rainbow. The sunlight gleamed through the window, making each of them sparkle like Christmas ornaments . . .
“The name ornaments—they’re the same colors.”
“You mean, all of these gifts are from the two of you? But . . . why?” Janey asked.
“Because we wanted to bring some fun with us for the holidays, give Brian something to look forward to,” Kevin said. “The wrapping was the clue.”
Janey scrunched up her nose and said, “How did you know Brian wouldn’t open them?”
“Yeah, how come?” Brian asked.
“Because we’re your parents, Brian, and we know you are a man of honor. Even as a child you wouldn’t sneak peeks at what we bought;
you were always so patient. Go ahead, open them, please.”
Janey took the red one, saying it was because her name ornament was red too, and when she pulled the flaps back, what she pulled out confused her. It was a round metal bowl. Another one was found beneath.
“Huh?”
“Keep going,” Kevin said.
Brian took the blue gift for the same reason, and he quickly displayed a leash. Janey took the green one, and she discovered a book about dog training and a calendar for the next year all about dogs, and that’s when her eyes began to widen with delight, her knees bouncing off the floor. She told Brian to hurry, and so he did, completing the gift opening by holding out a collar not unlike the one that had been inside the box from last night, but this one was shiny, new, and all it lacked was a dog to wear it.
They didn’t have to wait long.
A barking sound could be heard coming from outside, and Janey got up and rushed to the window.
“Brian, look!”
He was right behind her, and what he saw was an eager young puppy, black with a spot of white on its chest, and it was flopping around in the snow. In the distance he could see a familiar car at the side of the road, where stood Gerta, Nora, and Travis. Janey wasted no time in running down the stairs and jumping out of the windmill with a squeal of having seen an old friend, and Brian had a feeling that’s what they would be in no time. Brian watched as the puppy went running up to her and jumped up and Janey giggled and fell to the snow, allowing their new pet to lick her face.
As he watched, he was unaware that his parents had joined them outside, not until he felt his mother’s arm in his. “That,” she said, “is what we’ve done. He’s been staying with Gerta the past couple of days, and I believe Travis was rather reluctant to give him up.”
“It’s why we were late to the tavern party; we’d just picked him up.”
Memory Tree Page 28
