Remembering Christmas (31 page)

“What is it?” she asked.

Rick took out his keys and unlocked the padlock, then swung the doors open. The trailer was filled with boxes and furniture, crammed to the ceiling. “It’s all my stuff. I quit my job in Charlotte. Put my condo up for sale. I’m moving back home for good.”

His mom couldn’t even speak. She just put her arms around him and squeezed and cried. She stayed there for what felt like five minutes. When she finally got hold of herself, they began walking back toward the house.

“Of course, I’m going to need my old room back, at least for a while,” he said. “After New Year’s, I’m going to start up my own CPA practice here in Seabreeze. I figure all those rich folks who live along the river and the ocean need somebody they can trust to look after all that money.”

“You can stay as long as you want,” Art said. “Just as long as you want.”

Rick held the door open to let Art, his mom, and Amy walk through. Andrea held back a few steps and stood on the porch. When he looked into her eyes, he hoped that his mom’s present was something she’d like too.

“Rick,” she said, holding up her Disney World tickets. “You only bought two sets of these. Amy and I would be willing to wait, if you think you could get hold of a third.”

“Oh, believe me,” Rick said, “that will
not
be a problem.”

The Present

Rick sat on the bench across the street from the empty lot where the Book Nook once stood. Today, he decided, would be his last day coming down here. He’d talked with three men in suits yesterday as they walked the property. They said bulldozers would be here tomorrow. Rick didn’t think he could bear to see that. Big, noisy machines tearing up this hallowed ground and so many fond memories.

Rick’s life had improved dramatically after that Christmas in 1980. Despite the sagging economy, he’d sold his condo in Charlotte within two weeks to the same guy from the firm who’d stolen most of his clients. He got the call confirming the sale the day after he, Andrea, and Amy got back from Disney World in Orlando. It was the best time he’d ever had. Besides the simple escapist pleasures that abound at every turn in the Magic Kingdom, it was also the day Rick knew for certain that Andrea cared for him . . .
that
way.

She didn’t hold his hand or say “I love you.” They didn’t kiss at day’s end. But she kept looking at him, and every time he’d notice, she’d smile the sweetest smile. Several times she touched his arm or his shoulder as they turned a corner in line or walked through a doorway. Each time, it was just for a moment. But she’d leave her hand there a moment or two longer than normal. He could still remember the feeling thirty years later. A surge of intense heat. A warmth that lingered. A sensation of joy that remained and increased as the day unfolded.

Andrea had played it safe after that. Got some advice from her pastor that it might be wise not to date Rick for six months, to allow enough time to pass so she could be sure the changes in him were real and for all the right reasons.

Rick didn’t mind. She was so worth the wait.

Besides, he got to see her and Amy at the house. They came by often. When the six months were up, Rick picked up a diamond ring and proposed to Andrea on their first date. After a nice dinner and a long walk on the beach.

She said yes . . . without hesitation.

They were married six months later by Father Charlie and after that started attending his church. By then, Rick’s CPA practice was doing well enough to support them. During Reagan’s second term, the interest rates started falling, and they were able to buy a nice bungalow two streets over from his mom and Art’s place.

In the years since, his accounting firm had done extremely well. They bought one of those big fancy houses on the river and kept the bungalow as a rental property. Rick fought off the temptation to buy a big sailboat just so he could cruise up and down the river in the morning, slowly, forcing that old drawbridge to go up and block traffic. The temptation ended five years after he’d bought the riverfront home, when they replaced the bridge with one tall enough for boats to sail right under.

Instead, Rick bought a nice fishing boat. And he’d kept his promise to Art. They went fishing with Father Charlie one or two Saturdays a month for almost twenty years, right up until 1998, when Art passed away. His mom stayed in their little bungalow on Waverly Road. And now they visited her every Saturday evening, brought her dinner and watched a DVD. She moved a little slower, but she was still sharp as a tack.

“Hey, Dad.”

Rick looked up. It was Amy, with his two grandkids, Ashley and Charlie, in the backseat. He hadn’t even seen her car pull into the parallel parking spot just left of the bench. She yelled through the open car window. “Mom said you’d be down here. I tried calling your cell phone.”

“Had it turned off,” he said as he stood up and walked over. “Just wanted some time to think.”

“Well, I’ll leave you alone, just call me when you’re done.”

“Hey, you guys, how ya doing?” he said, bending down.

“Hi, Poppy!” they yelled back.

“Sorry for interrupting you,” Amy said.

“That’s all right. I’ve gotta get back to the office,” Rick said.

“Heard about what they’re doing across the street. Building a Walgreens or something.”

“A CVS.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

“Yeah, it is. So, why were you trying to reach me?”

“Jim and I wanted to know what you thought about having Christmas dinner at our place this year. It’s not as big as yours, but it would save Mom a lot of work.”

Rick thought about Andrea, how much she loved the holidays. “If she’s okay with it.”

“I already asked her. She said she’d be fine but that I better ask you.”

“Well . . . then let’s do it.”

“Great. I’ll start getting things together and call her later. I’m taking the kids out now for some Christmas shopping around the corner. Did you hear they reopened the Davis Brothers Toy Store?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You gotta see it. Brought back all the window displays and everything.”

“Really?” Rick wondered if they’d gotten the Lionel trains running up around the ceiling again. “I’ll go by there after work.”

“I better get going,” she said. “Love you.”

“Love you too. See ya, kids.”

“Bye, Poppy.”

Rick had adopted Amy the year after he and Andrea were married. They had joined Art’s efforts to reach out to JD. It took almost a year, but they finally coaxed him out of his cardboard box and into a halfway house. They had to promise him that Taylor could live there too. It was nice. Clean, good food. Even had chapel services every Sunday night. Rick would go to his church Sunday mornings and then with his father Sunday nights. Eventually they were able to get JD on the right medication. He seemed to come out of his imaginary world to a degree. Taylor, though, stayed with him till the end. JD died of cirrhosis of the liver in 1994, with Rick and Art by his side.

Rick remembered that he needed to call his son, Jay, born two years after they had gotten married. They were supposed to head out fishing on Saturday. This time with an honored guest. Father Charlie had called, saying he’d be in town for a week. Rick wondered if Charlie would be up for it—he must be about eighty years old now. He gently tried to give Charlie a way out, but Charlie said, “I might be old, Rick, but I’m not dead.”

Rick got into his car. A white pickup truck pulled into the lot across the street. Two guys hopped out and pulled a big wooden sign out of the bed. He watched them a few minutes. One dug holes with a posthole digger. The other stood the sign up and balanced it against the slight wind.

The sign said in big red letters: Coming Soon, CVS!

Life goes on.

In a few months, there’d be a nice building sitting right there and a parking lot full of cars. None of the people going in and out of the new store would have any idea of the miracles and wonders that had taken place on that hallowed ground so many years ago. What had that newspaper article said about it? Rick had kept it in its black frame all these years, mounted on his dresser. He’d read it so many times:

The Book Nook seems more like an enchanted cottage than a bookstore. A harbor from the cares of life. Some call it a little slice of heaven . . .

And then his favorite part:

Most, if asked, could not tell you exactly why this is so. But if pressed, they will say it has everything to do with the owners, Art and Leanne Bell. This sweet couple, in equal parts and in their own way, seem to radiate the love of God.

They certainly did, Rick thought.

And because they did, his life had been changed forever.

Remembering Christmas
is entirely a work of fiction. Well, sort of.

The little bookstore so central to the story was inspired by an actual Christian bookstore named the Book Nook. The town of Seabreeze is fictitious, but the idea for it came from what I imagined the Daytona Beach area might have looked like had it stayed small; if it had never become “The World’s Most Famous Beach” and the birthplace of NASCAR.

Actually, Seabreeze did exist as a little beachside town from 1901 to 1926, when it merged with Daytona Beach to become one city. Seabreeze Boulevard is still one of the main streets in the beachside area, and I graduated from Seabreeze Senior High School, still one of the main public high schools in the Daytona Beach area.

And although everything that happened to Art and Leanne Bell is fictitious, the inspiration for this couple came from a real-life couple who ran that little bookstore in Daytona Beach, out of the basement of an old church. All the other characters in the book, including Rick and Andrea, JD and Taylor, Father Charlie and all the customers who came in and out of the store, were products of my imagination.

The real-life couple I’m referring to were two of the sweetest, kindest, most caring, generous, and thoughtful people I have ever met. Before we had kids, my wife had the privilege of working for them at the store. It was actually a conversation with her over breakfast, recalling those wonderful days, that gave me the inspiration to write this book.

This book is about remembering. I want to take a few moments to remember those who’ve helped me craft this story and get it to print.

Starting with Cindi, my wonderful wife and greatest friend. She gave me the idea for this book after an enjoyable breakfast together at Cracker Barrel, where we talked about some of the jobs she had in the early years of our marriage. And, as always, she served as “first reader” as I wrote
Remembering Christmas
, offering a number of suggestions and insights along the way.

Then there’s my agent, Karen Solem, of Spencerhill Associates. With each year and each book, my respect and esteem for you grows, not just the way you help manage the business side of my writing life, but for your friendship and advice, as well. I also want to thank Andrea Doering, my editor at Revell. I’m so glad to have you as an advocate and advisor. You constantly improve the quality of my stories with your thoughts, ideas, and input. Far from dreading the editorial process, you make it a joy. So glad we have many more books to work on together in the days ahead.

Thanks to Kristin Kornoelje for your keen eye. Thanks to Twila Bennett, Michele Misiak, Karen Wiley, Claudia Marsh, and the whole marketing/publicity team at Revell. You all work so hard to get my books on the shelves and into readers’ hands. I can’t thank you enough. A special thanks to Cheryl Van Andel and the team responsible for the cover of this book. As soon as I saw it, I wanted to be right there.

Finally, I want to thank Dr. Richard Mabry for answering a number of medical questions. If you find any medical errors in this book, they would be mine, not his. Dr. Mabry is also a fine writer with several medical suspense novels to his credit. You can find out more about them at www.rmabry.com.