Memory Tree (15 page)

Far into the white-covered hills they went, green trees stretching out before them as far as the eye could see, and beyond, high into the lush Berkshire Mountains. Occasionally they would stop and admire a particular tree and test its branches, and for one reason or another pass on it, eventually taking a path where they could hear the gleeful sounds of the kids, both of whom pronounced that they had found the perfect tree. As Gerta and Nora went off to inspect Travis' choice, Brian led his parents over to where Janey was bouncing up and down.

“This one, this one . . . it's tall and full and it smells so fresh.”

“It's very nice, Jane. I think we have our first one.”

She scrunched her nose as only she could. “First one? How many trees are we getting?”

“Two,” she said. “We always have two.”

Brian grew silent, his face suddenly as white as the untouched snow. So many years had passed since he had celebrated Christmas at his parents' house, the memory of certain traditions only now coming to the surface as his mother raised the issue. Growing up they had always had two trees: one of them set up in the den, decorated with colorful lights and tinsel and an odd array of ornaments, and the other in his mother's more formal living room, that one adorned only with white lights and a string of silver garland. He remembered now how that second tree sparkled on Christmas Eve, the lights glowing in the window and reflecting off the snowdrifts blown up against the side of the house.

“Mom, I'd forgotten . . .”

“That's ironic, Brian,” she said, “considering what I always called it.”

“The Memory Tree,” he said.

Kevin moved in, sliding an arm over his wife's shoulder. “Didi, this is Janey's Christmas and we have to honor her traditions, not to mention the ones she and Brian have created. I don't see that we need to overcrowd their house with yet another tree. We have all the memories we need, and we of course brought from home what's important.”

“Did you bring your Christmas name ornaments?” Janey asked.

Didi Duncan, usually so reserved, was silent a moment as she fought off whatever buried emotion was emerging, and then said, “Yes, Janey, we most certainly did bring them, and I cannot wait to hang them on your tree.”

“Our tree,” Janey said, and that's when she threw herself around Didi. “I have one too. It's red. What color is yours?”

“Gold,” Didi said, “just like your smile.”

Brian nearly had to turn away, amazed by the generous spirit that lived inside his mother, wishing too that she would show it more often. He had the sense that Linden Corners was already beginning to work its magic on her; on his father too, who with a warm smile was taking the ax out of its sheath and preparing to chop down their tree.

“If this is the one Janey wants, then that's the one we'll have,” he said, lifting the ax over his shoulder.

“Don't even think about it,” Didi said, causing the big man to stop in his tracks.

“Didi, don't start . . .”

“Dad, I've got it. Really, the saw is easier.”

Soon Brian had cut through the base and the tree crashed down into a puff of snow. With string provided by Mr. Green, Brian and Kevin wrapped it up and hefted it down the hill to the parking lot. Didi and Janey followed them, hand in hand. As they loaded it into the back of the truck, they caught sight of the Connors family with their own tree. Brian put it into the back of his truck also, Travis helping. Then Brian and Nora went to pay Albert Green and receive his usual booklet of how to care for their trees during the season. As they returned to the group, Gerta announced it was time to return to Linden Corners, where hot cocoa was waiting for them back at her house.

“With tiny marshmallows?” Janey asked.

“Would I have it any other way?”

Janey wrapped her arms around the old lady and said, “You're the best, Gerta.”

As they piled back into their vehicles, Brian pulled his mother aside for a quick moment.

“You okay?”

“Jane . . . Janey, she's quite close to Gerta.”

“That's not what I meant,” he said, but then wondered if the display of affection between Janey and Gerta had unsettled his mother. Or was she putting on a brave face in light of the mishap with the second tree?

“Brian, I'm fine . . . Your father is right. Christmas is for the children anyway.”

“That's where you're wrong, Mom. At least, that's not the way we do it in Linden Corners,” he said, a growing smile widening his face. “Trust me, Mom, you'll get your memory tree this year, and it will be the most spectacular one you've ever seen.”

C
HAPTER
12

C
YNTHIA

 

 

 

A
t least their Secret Santa drawing would be alive with wintery atmosphere, Cynthia thought. How empty Memorial Park and the gazebo had looked the other day without a coating of snow, the holiday bunting that hung from the gazebo's roof and brightly beaming lights looking forlorn without their frosty accoutrement. But the storm the other night had taken care of that issue, and so today's event would imbue them all with the holiday spirit, adding to the drama of half the town showing up to find out whom they would be playing Secret Santa with. The drawing was only an hour away at this point and she was running late; she had to get down to the gazebo and attend to the finishing touches, not wanting to stick Gerta with, no doubt, last-minute entrants.

“Bradley, are you all set?”

“I'm just trying to put Jake into his new snowsuit and boots,” he said from atop the stairs. “It's not easy. This kid is squirming big-time.”

“That's because he's never worn it before.”

Cynthia smiled, the image of her son bundled up like an inflated snowman reminding her to pack their camera. As she dug into a drawer in their first-floor office for the digital camera, a feeling of sorrow washed over her, as she realized starting next year she would have to share photographs of her growing boy via e-mail and social media. Gone would be the days when she could rush over to the farmhouse and show Janey and Brian the latest googly face he had made. This move across the country might as well be taking them to the other side of the moon, but of course, that was why she was spending so much time and energy on this Christmas. She wanted to leave Janey with so many memories, all wrapped up with the kind of embrace they expected in Linden Corners, a warmth to melt away the bitter cold the young girl would be feeling on moving day.

“Hey, you okay?” Bradley asked.

She hadn't even seen him approach and now welcomed his hands on her shoulders as he massaged her. “Oh, don't stop. Can't we just stay here?”

“Do you mean Linden Corners? Not move?”

She sighed, thinking how nice that sounded. But no, she knew that wasn't possible, not anymore. The job was his, the house was on the market, her life was changing. “No, I mean here. Just you and me and Jake and a relaxing afternoon.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “Come on, girl, this Secret Santa mess is all your fault.”

“Humbug,” she said.

It wasn't that she really wanted to remain home, but sometimes when the little moments in life sprung up on you, you wished for time to stand still. She saw Jake in his seat, squirming to escape, beginning to cry, and despite the noise the image brought a wide smile to her face. So much for that wished-for relaxation; her little miracle was anxious to get going. “We've got one stop to make; then it's off to the gazebo.”

“What's Brian having you doing now?”

“What makes you think Brian's involved?”

“I heard you on the phone with him earlier,” he said.

True, Brian had phoned her this morning, asking for what he termed a “huge” favor, and once he'd explained what that favor entailed, she was on his side. “I'll tell you on the ride over.”

They left the house and got into the car, packing Jake into his child seat in the back. He squirmed again until he grew unusually fussy; Cynthia imagined he was uncomfortable being strapped in while wearing that bulky snowsuit. She told him it was only a quick trip, but those words did little to soothe an eighteen-month-old, and so they dealt with a crying Jake while Bradley drove the short distance to the Duncan farmhouse. As he was about to pull into the driveway, she told him to continue down to the end of the road and head to the windmill.

“Another windmill surprise?” he asked.

“Bradley Knight, you love that old windmill as much as anyone,” she said. “Didn't you and Dan Sullivan hang around there?”

“More like the stone bridge between our properties,” he said with a wistful laugh. “The stream would keep our beers cold while we talked the night away. Wow, I haven't thought about those days in a long time. What made you think of Dan?”

“Guess he's been on my mind, he and Annie. You know . . .”

“We lost our best friends, both of us.”

“And now Janey is losing us.”

Bradley pulled to the side of the road, and Cynthia found him looking at her. “Okay, you want to tell me what's really going on?”

“Bradley, I just want to make sure Janey has a wonderful Christmas.”

“So she doesn't forget you?”

“Bradley Knight, if you make me cry right now . . .”

“Fine, to the windmill we go,” he offered, continuing until he had at last turned onto the main highway, pulling over to the shoulder a half mile down. “Okay, I see . . . one, two . . . that's it . . . no, wait, there's a third person. Let me guess—those are Brian's parents alongside him and you're here to relieve him of his mother and keep her busy in town while he busily decorates the windmill for the holiday. How am I doing so far?”

“Not bad, Detective. Your story is a little incomplete,” she said.

“Ah, more guessing—you want me to stay behind and help him.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “That's why I love you so.”

“So the menfolk stay here and work, while the womenfolk go into town to organize the biggest shopping spree this town has ever seen.”

“Jake's coming with me,” she said.

“Ah, to be coddled by said womenfolk.”

“Bradley Knight, you're more evolved than that.”

“Sorry, just practicing my Texas macho routine.”

She punched him hard in the arm. “No more reminders of our move, not today, please. Let me enjoy Linden Corners one last time.”

“Oww,” he said, rubbing his biceps.

She laughed. “So much for macho.”

The two of them trudged through the snowy field en route to the windmill, Jake happy again to be released from the constraints of his seat. Brian welcomed them with a friendly wave and then introduced his parents to the men of the Knight family.

“So what are the Knights up to today?” Brian asked, pretending this visit was unplanned. Cynthia didn't find his tone very convincing, and she noticed a hint of skepticism toying with Didi.

“Brian Duncan, you have a terrible memory,” Cynthia said, playing along and hoping she was doing a better job. “Today we draw names for the village's Secret Santa celebration . . . Why don't you all join us? Surely you've put everyone's name in the hat?”

“What's this, the entire village is playing?” Kevin asked.

Cynthia nodded. “Only those who want to; we can't force everyone, but at last count we had over three hundred entrants, and I suspect we'll get a few dozen who have been on the fence suddenly tossing their names in before the drawing begins.”

“Sounds like a huge undertaking,” Didi commented.

“As much as I'd like to go, I've got some work to finish here at the farmhouse,” Brian said. “Janey will be there. She's been at Gerta's since late morning, helping Nora and Travis set up their tree. Janey said she would pick mine and promised not to look at who I got . . . unless I can get this work done beforehand and join in on the fun. Hey, Mom, Dad, why don't you go on with Cynthia. It'll give you a chance to meet more of the folks in town.”

“I'll stay behind, Brian, keep you company,” Kevin said. “Didi, go on ahead, sounds like a fun afternoon.”

Bradley then piped up and suggested he remain behind too and help, saying, “Maybe that way we'll get done sooner and be able to join you for the end of the drawing.”

“Uh-oh, Didi, I think it's the men versus the women here.”

“Yes, so it appears,” Didi replied, her lips pursed.

So the group agreed upon the plans, with Didi set to accompany Cynthia—who insisted Jake come with them—for an afternoon in downtown Linden Corners. As they prepared to leave, Didi grabbed Brian by the arm and told him he was as subtle as a frozen snowball, and then with Cynthia grinning and tossing her friend an amused look, they started down the field.

“Brian,” Didi said, turning back, “don't let your father do any heavy lifting. No ladders.”

“Didi . . .”

“That's okay. I've got Bradley for that,” he said.

Even Cynthia partook of the laughter, and the two women, joined by a wailing Jake, who still wasn't happy about being in his snowsuit, got into the car and drove off toward the village, where the official start of the Christmas season was set to begin. The Secret of Linden Corners celebration was under way.

“The two of you are terrible actors,” Didi remarked.

“Trust me, Didi, what Brian's doing, it'll be worth it. Brian's pretty good at surprises.”

Didi allowed herself a small smile. “Of course he is. Where do you think he got it from?”

The crowd gathered around the snowy Memorial Park was impressive, all of them milling about while nearby parking lots overflowed with cars. And while it was only three in the afternoon and the light of day hadn't fully descended, downtown was held in a glowing halo of color emanating from the roofs, sides, and porches of the neighboring businesses, from Marla and Darla's Trading Post to Ackroyd's Hardware Emporium, the Five O' Clock Diner and George's Tavern, and even a bit farther down, at A Doll's Attic, the local Hudson Valley bank, and a Realtor's office. Cynthia wondered where she was going to park, not even having thought about that problem, but then she saw Nora waving to her from the sidewalk near the entrance of the park. She pulled over.

“We've got a spot saved for you at the tavern; you'll see Mark there holding it for you.”

“Thanks.”

“My goodness, how everyone looks out for their neighbors,” Didi commented.

“Welcome to Linden Corners,” Cynthia said.

“Yes, an oft-used phrase,” she said. “Like we've stumbled upon Brigadoon, here for just a short time before disappearing for another hundred years.”

Cynthia grew sad at the prospect, realizing the old legend held a kernel of truth for her.

“Are you okay, dear?”

“Your comment makes me realize just how much I'm going to miss this place.”

Didi held out her arm, locking eyes with Cynthia. “Brian has told me you're leaving here early next year. While I know it will be difficult for all involved, perhaps for Jane the most, you have to pursue your dreams. Time waits for no one.”

“I worry about that girl so much,” Cynthia said. “But not because of Brian. He's great.”

Didi thanked her, then suggested they put such talk on hold, since it appeared the entire town was waiting on her arrival. They parked, with Mark Ravens playfully directing them into the reserved spot like a valet. At his side was Sara, obviously pregnant beneath her long coat. More introductions were forthcoming, Didi smiling widely as a scruffy-faced Mark welcomed her to their humble village, telling her how much Brian had helped him and his wife.

“I mean, Sara and I fell in love because of him, and we found a home together because of him, and we got married thanks to his efforts,” Mark said. “We owe him our future.”

“My goodness, Brian certainly is an industrious man about town, isn't he?”

“When we lost Annie after that awful storm,” Sara said, “he became our heart. The way he restored the windmill, what he really did was help restore an entire village. But you'll see that for yourself soon enough. In the meantime, I think the natives are restless, eager to see who they have to go shopping for. Personally I hope I get someone I know . . . I mean, I know that's not the point, but picking out gifts is hard enough. To get for a stranger . . . how about you, Mrs. Duncan? For you I suppose we're all strangers.”

“Oh no, I'm not participating,” she said. “My goodness, I've only been here little more than a day.”

“Come on, babe, let's get you settled at the park. So many people here—Cyn, do you think we'll be done before Sara goes into labor?”

As the Ravenses walked off hand in hand, Cynthia took hold of Jake from his car seat, then took out the stroller and got him settled. Didi asked if she didn't mind if she pushed it. It had been a long time since she'd played the role of grandmother, she explained. “Brian's sister, Rebecca, has a son, Junior, and we barely see him now that he's living with his father, but other than that, nothing.”

“What about Janey?”

“Oh, well, yes, I suppose . . . Cynthia, may I be honest?”