Memory Tree (24 page)

Fearing discovery, she opted to remain where she was, hidden behind the thick trunk of a tree. The old stone bridge was in easy view, and she was within earshot of both the swirling current from the stream and the conversation taking place. She didn't intend to eavesdrop, but she didn't want to discourage what truths were being laid bare tonight. Janey had come here for a reason; she'd admitted as much. She wanted to talk to Richie, and obviously, privately.

“You knew my dad?” she asked.

“Now, Janey Sullivan, you're a lucky girl; you've been blessed with two dads.”

“Brian's great; he's the best,” she said. “But I meant my other dad.”

“Dan Sullivan,” he said.

“I see him in my dreams, and for the past couple of months, ever since I turned ten, I've been wondering about him and my mama. Can you tell me about him? Do you know how he and Mama met, and why they got married, and then why . . . why they can't be with me anymore?”

“Well, that last question I cannot answer, and I doubt anyone can. Life likes to hold on to its mysteries, young Janey. It likes to tease us with things like wishes and hopes. It's how you come out the other end that defines your character.”

“I like wishes, and I'm always full of hope. But lately, my dreams confuse me.”

“Christmas will do that, makes us think anything is possible,” he said. “We experience so many emotions, we often don't know what we're thinking from one moment to another.”

“Christmas is so wonderful, but really . . . it's just one day. When it's over, the lights dim.”

“You're wise beyond your years, Janey Sullivan.”

“That's what Brian . . . I mean Dad says.”

“You have trouble calling him Dad?”

“Not really, just sometimes I slip. Sometimes I feel . . . disloyal, to my real dad.”

“Dan Sullivan would have liked Brian. I'm sure he's happy you're in such good hands.”

Trina wasn't sure she could hear more, this conversation between wizened old Richie and the wise-beyond-her-years Janey hitting far too close to home. Fathers and daughters should not miss out on moments, and here were two people who had lost both, the only difference being that Richie could turns things around. Trina herself had been given a second father, even though her first one hadn't died; he'd just . . . disappeared. He'd found a life beyond hers, and only after coming to town had she begun to understand what had made him leave. Perhaps she would gain further insight here, and so, despite the guilt she felt about overhearing them rushing through her system, she listened further.

“I met Dan right here. Did you know that?”

“Here, on the bridge?”

“Oh, he loved hanging out here; he liked to fish.”

“Fish? I don't think there are fish in this stream.”

“Well, he fished for things other than fish.”

Trina heard a pause, imagining Janey trying to process such a dichotomy.

“How can you fish for something else?”

“See that stuffed animal in your arms?” he asked.

“Sure, he goes everywhere with me. He was my first-ever Christmas present.”

“I'm not surprised,” he said. “Because your father used to find frogs in the stream.”

“He did?”

“Sure, he was . . . what, thirteen, fourteen years old when I met him. The same age that Travis is now.”

“How do you know?”

“Because when I first came to Linden Corners, I kind of lived around here.”

“How can you kind of live around . . . the bridge? Did you live inside the windmill?”

“No, I pitched a tent in the woods.”

“Weren't you cold?”

“It was summer, and I used to fall asleep while counting the number of times the sails of the windmill spun.”

“So you do like the windmill!”

“Of course I do. It's what made me stop. I wasn't supposed to. I just kind of... found it.”

“Just like Brian!”

“And your mama before him.”

“Mama loved the windmill.”

“Did you know that it was because of the windmill your parents met?”

There was no response. Trina, crouching behind the tree, let out a sharp breath, hoping her sound hadn't alerted them to her presence. She hoped they thought it was the wind. She imagined that Janey was processing this information, perhaps shaking her head. It was Richie's voice that continued, as he told the young girl the story of her parents' first meeting.

Annie had been living nearby, he said, caring for an elderly aunt, and she'd gone out for a drive one afternoon when she came upon the windmill, and she had stopped to admire its beauty and its simple majesty, never thinking such a move would forever change her life, but that it did. As she walked ever closer to the spinning sails, she heard the joyful cry from nearby, and rather than run far for fear of being discovered, she advanced further toward the woods, eventually finding her way to the stone bridge.

“Dan was there, and of course this was years after I had first met him and settled into Linden Corners. He was a grown man by this point, saddled with the responsibility of running the family farm. His parents were gone already. So who could blame him, forced to grow up so quickly, holding tight to the things that reminded him of more innocent times. So there he was, grabbing frogs, and don't you know, he had just pulled one out when Annie showed her face. He turned to her, smiling at what he told me was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and he presented her with the squirming frog in his hand, and what happened next defined the rest of his life. Rather than squeal at a big bullfrog being thrust at her, the woman reached out and took it in her hands. Dan told me that he would never forget what she said next.”

“Which was?”

“ ‘Does that make you a prince?' ”

The bitter cold of the night was insinuating itself beneath her jacket, chilling her bones, but at this moment Trina felt such warmth spread throughout her body. Not only was Richie's story magical in its truth, but the way in which he revealed its details was rife with drama and surprise, and she could imagine the joy spreading across Janey's freckled face.

“So that's why they got me a frog for Christmas,” Janey exclaimed, “because that's when they fell in love, and after that they got married and Mama gave birth to me, and they lived here. All the while I thought it was the windmill they bonded over.”

“This bridge was your father's,” Richie said. “It's where he came to dream.”

“Can you tell me more about him? What kind of dreams did he have?” she asked. “That mean man Chuck Ackroyd said bad things about him the other night at the tavern, and I've been thinking about them, mostly when it's nighttime and I'm supposed to go to sleep, but I can't. Like tonight.”

“You, Janey Sullivan, were Dan Sullivan's dream,” he said, “you and Annie.”

“So his dreams came true?”

“For a while, yes.”

“Nothing lasts,” she said.

“If you know that, then you already know to appreciate it when you have it,” he said, “and while life forces you to move on, it cannot lessen all your heart knows.”

“Mr. Ravens?”

“Yes, Ms. Janey?”

“I'm sorry about your motel. I heard it was ruined.”

“Thank you.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I haven't figured that part out yet. The world hasn't yet handed me a sign,” he said. “So sometimes you just have to look to the stars and see how brightly they are shining.”

“Or which way the wind blows,” she said.

“Now, that, Ms. Janey, is very wise indeed,” Richie said. “And I also think it's a fine way to end our philosophical discussion. I cannot remember one so rich, so filled with truth. Seeing you here, where you father dreamed and in the shadow of your mama's passion, it is no wonder you are the angel you are. Besides, from what Brian said, Santa Claus doesn't like to show up when little girls are still awake, and so we must get you back.”

“Don't tell Brian I snuck out.”

“He may not like it, but I bet he'd understand, especially on this special night. Janey, you have a chance tonight to live out your dreams as you wish them. Whether it's your wishes for the best Christmas yet, where gifts you didn't even expect to receive fill your life with renewed joy, or a perfect dream where you see your parents together, the sight of them bringing comfort to the memories your heart carries.” He paused until only the blowing wind could be heard, before saying, “Like your friend here; he's your connection to your parents, and while they may no longer walk the earth, their spirits live on . . . right inside this purple frog.”

“He's getting older,” she said. “Like me. But he's still dependent on me.”

“And you're not dependent?”

“Brian says I'm too independent.”

“Can you tell me one last thing about your frog?”

“Sure, anything.”

“Does he have a name?”

“No,” she said, “although I've been thinking he needs one.”

“A name will make him feel more alive,” Richie stated.

“He's just a stuffed animal,” she said. “He's not real.”

“Oh, but, Ms. Janey, that's where you're wrong. He's stuffed with so much more than life. Dan Sullivan filled him with love.”

Trina watched as Janey hugged Richie with tight, deep-felt affection, and then she went dashing off toward the farmhouse. Her little legs moved quickly, and soon Richie was alone at the stone bridge, and Trina was nearby, fighting the urge to reveal herself and do just as Janey had done, embrace the man she knew as her father. It was something Janey couldn't do. It was something Trina could.

She turned away, fighting tears, and she locked eyes with the turning sails of the windmill, her mind transfixed, her heart overwhelmed with emotion. First at the loving family that had once lived here and lived no more, then at the transition and tragedy this young girl had been forced to endure, and then at her bright spirit, which powered the windmill when the wind could not. Suddenly Trina Winter knew what she needed to do.

Family was everything, and if she didn't act fast, time could take it from her.

She edged her way out of the woods, coming face-to-face with her father.

“Trina,” he said.

“Hi, Dad.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought you'd like to share tomorrow with me.”

He looked at his watch. “It's already here.”

“Then let's stop wasting time. I think it's our turn to start tilting at windmills.”

Midnight had arrived, which meant so too had Christmas Day.

C
HAPTER
20

B
RIAN

 

 

 

“W
hat do you mean . . . you're leaving? Back to Mark and Sara's apartment, right?”

From her tone, he knew he was wrong. He knew the word held deeper connotations, of permanence, of loss. At least it did for him, because despite how her announcement sat with him, he could tell there was a glint of excitement in her eyes, noticeable even here in the dark of night. Still, the ache in his heart when she spoke rattled him.

“No, leaving Linden Corners,” she said. “Me and Richie.”

“When?”

“Today, now.”

“Now? But it's midnight.”

“Which most people see as the end of the day, when really, it's the start of a new one, and I see no better time.”

“Slipping away when the sun can't catch you?”

He felt her hands to his cheek, soft, like the one time they'd been together. “You're always so poetic, Brian Duncan; it's one of the things I like about you. You're so open . . . and giving.”

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.

 

 

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 shiny 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.”