The Ghost and the Christmas Spirit

by Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes

  “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Huckabee,” came another voice from the open doorway. Instead of turning on the television, Pearl set the remote down on the bed and looked to see who had just walked in her room.

  “Doctor, I didn’t expect to see you today,” she greeted him.

  “I have good news,” he said cheerfully, walking up to her bedside with clipboard in hand.

  “The only good news I want to hear is that I’m going home.”

  “If you will promise to use that spare bedroom you told me about, and not use your stairs until your ankle heals, then you can go home today,” the doctor told her.

  She sat up straighter in the bed. “I can?” She looked to the doorway and then back to the doctor. “Did that volunteer talk to you?”

  The doctor frowned. “What volunteer?”

  “The one who was just in here. An older man, white beard.”

  “I don’t know of any volunteer with that description. Did you say older man—white beard?”

  “Yes, he was just in here not five minutes ago.”

  “I honestly don’t know who you are talking about,” the doctor said. “Perhaps he was visiting someone else on this floor. Why did you think he had talked to me?”

  Pearl considered his question a moment and then shook her head. “It was nothing. But you say I get to go home, today? Really?”

  “Yes. I have arranged for a nurse to go home with you, help you get situated. She won’t be spending the night, but will be there to get you settled in.”

  “How much is that going to cost me?”

  “Don’t worry about it. What your insurance doesn’t pay, I have already arranged for our Benevolent Fund to cover. It’s a fund the Glandon Foundation started last year for the hospital, to help cover these types of expenses.”

  When the doctor left the room, Pearl remembered where she had seen the bearded man who claimed to be a volunteer. He was one of the guests staying at Marlow House. The one who had arrived in a taxi.

  Danielle no longer felt uncomfortable wearing the Missing Thorndike while in Eva’s presence. Eva, the necklace’s owner before Walt had taken it, had once told Danielle her time for diamonds and emeralds had ended with her life, and the necklace was where it belonged.

  Walt had convinced Danielle not to sell it, and while she normally kept it locked in her safety deposit box at the bank, she took it out to wear on special occasions, like their Christmas Eve open house. The antique diamond and emerald neckless looked stunning with the floor-length red dress Danielle had chosen for the party.

  Standing in the entry hall with a cocktail in hand, Danielle had minutes earlier welcomed several new guests to the gathering. They had just walked away with Walt to get a cocktail from the bar set up in the living room. She stood alone a moment, surveying the wide open area, decorated festively for the holiday, while Christmas music played in the background.

  Across the entry hall, sitting on a wingback chair—one they had brought out from the library—near the first-floor landing by the staircase was Colin, wearing a green suit and bright red jacket, reminding her of one of those vintage Santa Clauses she had seen on Victorian Christmas postcards.

  He sat talking to the children who had come to the open house, all convinced he really was Santa Claus, in spite of the fact he lacked the generous belly. Heather stood at his side and helped direct the children. Danielle smiled at the sight, remembering how Heather had said something earlier about kids being annoying, yet she didn’t seem to be bothered by them at the moment. Danielle had also overheard Heather telling one of the children that Santa was cutting back on Christmas cookies and was watching his weight—which was the reason for the more slender version.

  Danielle chuckled at the thought and then looked around at the other guests who were drifting from room to room, chatting with friends they encountered along the way. Smiling, she felt a wave of the Christmas spirit rush over her. The years she had been married to her first husband, Lucas, she had enjoyed Christmas, but she hadn’t felt the same Christmas spirit that she had experienced as a child. She knew it was because she had missed her parents.

  The Christmas spirit she remembered from her youth had returned the first Christmas with Walt. He had given it back to her, by way of a dream hop with her deceased family. While she enjoyed the next Christmas, it wasn’t the same, and they had been dealing with Marie’s recent death. Marie’s spirit had stuck around, but Danielle had hated seeing Adam grieve his grandmother.

  The next Christmas—their last one—might have been special, considering Chris was reunited with his brother. But she was unable to think about that Christmas without also remembering Chris’s uncles, who had plotted to kill her and Chris. Those unpleasant events tended to tarnish the Christmas memory.

  Danielle then thought about the Hoopers and how they had held her at gunpoint just yesterday. Yet for some reason that memory, in spite of the fact it had happened less than twenty-four hours earlier, didn’t give her chills of terror—if anything, it felt more like an inevitable event that had helped bring them to a better day.

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Danielle watched as Lily answered the front door. In walked Elizabeth Sparks, with her parents and her brother. Owen had shaved off the beard. When the brother and sister looked in her direction, Danielle suddenly realized why she thought Owen had looked familiar when they had first met. Brother and sister had the same eyes. When Danielle walked over to greet the new arrivals a moment later, a fresh new wave of the Christmas spirit overwhelmed her.

  “I love Christmas,” she whispered before welcoming Elizabeth with a hug.

  Thirty-Nine

  “I won’t tell them you aren’t really Santa,” Evan whispered to Colin as he sat on his knee, taking his turn giving Santa his Christmas wish while Heather snapped his picture.

  “How do you know I’m not?” Colin asked.

  Evan grinned. “Because we decorated Christmas cookies together, and I know you are really Mr. Bari.”

  “Do you know who Saint Nicholas is?” Colin asked.

  “Sure, another name for Santa Claus.”

  “A long, long time ago, Saint Nicholas was also known as Nicholas of Bari,” Colin explained. “And you remember what my first name is?”

  Evan nodded. “Yes. It’s Colin.”

  “And Colin is a French variation of Nicholas,” Colin explained.

  Evan frowned. “What is a variation?”

  “It’s just another way to say it—like a nickname. Your brother is called Eddy, but his real name is Edward, right?”

  “So you’re saying your first name is really Nicholas?” Evan asked.

  “Yes.” Colin smiled at Evan.

  “Are you saying you really are Santa Claus?” Evan asked.

  “You did tell me you believed in the possibility, didn’t you?”

  “But you don’t look like Santa Claus, except for the beard,” Evan argued.

  “True. But legends and stories often grow up around people, and can sometimes take on a life of their own,” Colin explain.

  “Santa doesn’t have a big belly?”

  “When drawing my picture, my friend Thomas thought he should depict me slightly more rounded. Artist interpretation. It took him a while to decide on my wardrobe.”

  “Who is Thomas?”

  “Thomas Nast. He was a cartoonist who lived from the mid-1800s to the early 1900s. His drawings of Santa Claus influenced how many people today imagine Santa might look,” Colin explained.

  “And you knew him?”

  “Yes. I met him on one of my visits to New York. I sat for him when he did some drawings—but as a cartoonist, he didn’t always draw the world as a photograph might see it.”

  “Are you saying you’re the real Santa Claus?” Evan asked in a whisper.

  “You can figure that out yourself—on Christmas morning.”

  “How would I do that?” Evan asked.

  “When we decorated Christmas cookies, you told me what you wa
nted for Christmas. If you get it—then I suppose you will have your answer, won’t you?” Colin’s eyes twinkled.

  The cars parked along both sides of Beach Drive could not damper Pearl’s enthusiasm for being home. The Marlows’ house was lit up like a Christmas tree, she thought, which was perhaps fitting considering it was Christmas Eve. It was obvious to her they were having a Christmas party next door, and it looked as if most of Frederickport was in attendance, considering the number of cars parked on their street.

  Pearl managed to hobble inside using crutches, while the nurse accompanied her. Once in her living room, Pearl sat on her recliner while the nurse busily prepared the guest bedroom and moved some of Pearl’s personal belongings downstairs. While Pearl would normally resent a stranger sorting through her things, she was simply grateful she was able to come home.

  When the nurse finished preparing the guest bedroom, she went over some final instructions from the doctor, when Pearl’s doorbell rang. The nurse went to answer the door while Pearl stayed in the living room on her recliner. When the nurse returned a few minutes later, she was carrying a large box.

  “What is that?” Pearl asked.

  “A man from next door came over and brought you this,” the nurse said, setting the box on the table next to Pearl so she could see.

  “What man?”

  “He didn’t give his name. An older gentleman with a white beard. Said he was from next door, and they heard you had come home. So they wanted to send this over for you.” The nurse lifted off the lid so they could both look inside the box.

  “Oh, yummy! It’s all kinds of food—looks like maybe pumpkin bread, some sliced turkey and ham, a couple of tamales, some salads, and cookies—and pie! They have just about everything in here for a Christmas feast! Would you like me to fix you a plate before I leave? Or should I just put this in your refrigerator?”

  Wearing a frown, Pearl leaned back on the chair. “A man with a white beard, you say?”

  “Just like Santa!”

  All the guests had gone home and Danielle was alone in the kitchen, putting away the food while Walt, Chris and Noah helped straighten up the rest of the house, bringing in any stray glassware and dishes. Joanne had left a few minutes earlier after offering to help, but Danielle had insisted she go home, as she had visiting family, who had also come to the open house.

  “I wanted to say goodbye before I left,” Colin said when he walked into the kitchen a moment later.

  “Goodbye?” Danielle asked, closing the refrigerator and turning to face Colin.

  “Yes, it’s time for me to go. I wanted to thank you for your generous hospitality, and for letting me take your neighbor some food.”

  “How did you know Pearl had gotten back?” Danielle asked.

  “I might have overheard your friend the police chief mentioning it,” he said.

  “Hmm…funny, he never said anything to me. But why are you leaving now? It’s Christmas Eve. You know you are invited to join us for Christmas.”

  “And I appreciate your invitation. But I have to leave because it is Christmas Eve,” he explained.

  “I don’t understand,” Danielle said.

  “Christmas Eve is a busy night for Santa,” he reminded her. The next moment he vanished.

  Edward MacDonald pulled the covers up over his youngest son, Evan, who snuggled down in his bedding, looking up at his father.

  “Did you have fun tonight?” Edward asked as he sat down on the edge of the mattress.

  “I think Mr. Bari is really Santa Claus,” Evan whispered.

  “Mr. Bari? You mean the older man staying at Marlow House, the one who played Santa tonight?”

  Evan nodded. “I know lots of people don’t believe in Santa. Eddy doesn’t anymore. But Eddy doesn’t believe in ghosts either.”

  “And just why do you think he is Santa?” Edward asked.

  “I’m not really sure yet. But I will know in the morning.”

  Edward arched his brow. “Really? Well, why don’t you just try to get some sleep. It is late and we have a big day tomorrow.”

  Morning sunshine streamed through his bedroom window, waking Evan. He looked around his room and felt a pang of disappointment. Everything in his bedroom seemed the same—just as he remembered it from the previous day. The comic books he had piled on his desk before going to the party at Marlow House were there. The jacket he had worn was abandoned on his desk chair. He had slept through the night and hadn’t had a single dream—at least not one that he could remember.

  “Get up. It’s Christmas morning!” Eddy said excitedly as he burst into Evan’s bedroom.

  Reluctantly Evan got out of bed and put on his slippers. He followed his older brother out of his room and into the hallway. Once he reached the living room the aroma of freshly baked bread assaulted his senses, bringing him to a complete stop. His father did not bake bread, but he could remember his mother baking bread on Christmas morning. It smelled like Christmas.

  “What are you waiting for?” a woman’s voice called out from the doorway leading from the living room to the kitchen. Evan turned abruptly to the sound of the voice—a vaguely familiar one that he could barely remember. And there she was, the mother who had been taken from them when he was far too young to lose a mother.

  Evan raced to her arms; they were now open, welcoming him, as she knelt down to receive his hug. He dived into her embrace, his face buried along her neck. He breathed in her scent—he had never completely forgotten how she smelled, how she looked, how she felt. Tears began to slide down his cheeks.

  She held him tighter and whispered, “Don’t cry, love, you might wake up.”

  With a sniffle, Evan blinked away the tears and looked up into his mother’s eyes. They were just inches from him.

  “Why are you acting like such a baby?” Eddy asked.

  Evan had forgotten all about his older brother, who had walked into the living room with him. He looked over to Eddy, who now stood with their father. Neither one seemed surprised to find Evan with his mother. Evan looked back to his mother and whispered, “Are they really here?”

  “Yes, but they don’t know it isn’t real. They won’t until they wake up,” she told him.

  “This isn’t real?” Evan said with disappointment.

  She kissed his nose. “No, silly. I’m here. But the rest…well, you know.”

  “I would like a little of that loving,” Edward said good-naturedly as he approached his wife and youngest son. Cindy MacDonald released Evan and stood up, opening her arms to give her husband a hug. Evan stood next to his parents and smiled, watching the pair embrace.

  “Why does it feel like it has been ages since I held you like this?” Evan overheard his father whisper into his mother’s ear.

  “I love you, Ed. I want you to always remember that. You are such a wonderful father to our boys.”

  “Come on, stop getting all mushy. I want to open presents,” Eddy said from the sidelines.

  Cindy released her husband and then looked down at Eddy. “Okay. But I want a Christmas hug from you too.”

  Eddy gave his mother a wide grin and then ran to her, jumping into her arms and giving her a tight hug. “I love you, Mom.”

  They opened their Christmas gifts, but Evan couldn’t seem to comprehend what was in any of the packages—but he didn’t really care. He just loved hearing his mother’s laughter and witnessing his father’s happiness. He couldn’t recall the last time his father looked so serene. Even Eddy seemed unusually good humored.

  After breakfast, the boys sat on the sofa with their mom while she read them Christmas stories and their father built a fire in the fireplace. When the stories were done, the four gathered at the kitchen table to play games. And when the afternoon grew late, they sat down as a family to enjoy Christmas dinner.

  When it was time to go to bed, Cindy and Edward tucked their sons in, starting first with Eddy. When it was Evan’s turn, he waited silently in his bed, looking up at his parents,
saying nothing about the reality of the moment, not wanting to spoil it for his father.

  “Did you have a good Christmas?” Edward asked his son after dropping a kiss on his forehead. Cindy stood close by his side, looking down at her youngest son.

  “This was the best Christmas ever,” Evan told them.

  Evan’s eyes flew open. It was pitch dark in his bedroom. He looked over at his alarm clock on the nightstand; the digital numbers lit up brightly. It was 2 a.m. on Christmas morning. Evan thought the dream had felt much longer. He climbed out of bed and walked to his bedroom window, pulling open the curtains. Overhead a half-moon lit up the night sky. Resting his elbows on the windowsill, he dropped his chin on balled fists and looked up at the moon.

  The sound of bells broke the silence, and the next moment he saw what appeared to be a silhouette of a tiny sleigh pulled by reindeer dart across the half-moon and then disappear.

  Eyes wide, Evan just stared. Finally he whispered, “Thank you, Santa. It really was the best Christmas ever.”

  Forty

  Walt, Chris, and Noah sat in the living room, drinking coffee, waiting for Danielle to join them on Christmas morning. They had already decided to have cinnamon rolls and coffee by the tree before opening their Christmas stockings and some of their gifts. Chris and Noah sat on the chairs facing Walt, who took a seat on the sofa. Max was already in the room when they arrived, napping under the Christmas tree. No one had gotten dressed for the day, each wearing a robe over flannel pajama bottoms and a shirt.

  The men had been chatting for about fifteen minutes when Danielle arrived, carrying a tray with more coffee and fresh cinnamon rolls, while Hunny trailed behind her. She, like the men, wore flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. But unlike them, she wasn’t wearing a robe. Danielle set the tray on the coffee table and said, “I just talked to the chief on the phone. It seems Evan got his Christmas wish. In fact, it sounds as if everyone over at the MacDonald house had the perfect Christmas.” She took a seat on the sofa next to Walt and drew her stocking feet up on the cushion next to her.