A Stony Point Christmas

by K. D. McCrite

  “Of course,” Annie acquiesced. “I’ll get some coffee started and turn up the furnace. With the windows being opened all day, it’s cold in here.”

  “I don’t mind. I’ll be right there.”

  Annie closed the kitchen window and then quickly put away her groceries. She turned up the thermostat and went from room to room closing windows. In the library, she turned on a small desk lamp. Tucked between the living room and family room, the library seemed warmer than the rest of the house, and when Annie reached to close the first window, she realized why. Apparently, she had neglected to open the library windows that morning. She took in a deep breath, testing for the bad odor. What she smelled was something different.

  Peanut butter. Peanut butter? In the library?

  Annie frowned, sniffing again energetically. She glanced around the dimly lit room, trying to figure out where the scent came from. And when did she leave a pile of laundry in the armchair?

  Maybe the cat, in vengeful retaliation for the previous evening’s harsh scolding, had somehow gotten in the hamper and dragged out dirty clothes. Even as she concocted an image of Boots toting clothes through the house in her mouth, Annie realized how ridiculous the notion was.

  “Boots?” she said, squinting in the dim light at the chair as she moved toward it.

  This time the clothing moved, almost as if stirred. Annie’s heart leaped, and she froze. She started to reach out for the clothes when she saw a pair of eyes blinking sleepily in a thin, pale face.

  “Oh!” she gasped, jumping back in spite of herself.

  The knock at the front door made her jump again. She hoped it was her friend.

  “Alice?” she called, her voice somewhat tentative.

  “Yes!”

  “Come in. Hurry!”

  Alice opened the door, and the frigid air that entered with her added to the coldness inside Grey Gables.

  “Where are you?”

  “In the library.”

  “Is the coffee on? My goodness, it’s cold in here! You know, I don’t smell any burned—”

  She broke off and halted abruptly as she entered the library.

  “What … what’s wrong, Annie?”

  Annie moved her hand just enough to indicate the bundle in the chair. She dared not take her gaze off whomever it was that looked back at her.

  “Oh, my goodness! What’s in those blankets?” Alice took a few steps back, gawking, with one hand at her throat.

  Annie swallowed hard. “I believe it’s a child.”

  10

  “A child!”

  Annie still did not take her eyes away from the small person in the chair.

  “Turn on the other lamps, would you please, Alice?”

  As the warm, golden light filled the room, Annie finally saw what sat in front of her: Wrapped in a worn, pastel pink blanket was a thin little girl with wispy, tangled white-blond hair, a pale face, and huge blue eyes the color of a faded summer sky. With the tiny fingers of one hand, she clutched a tattered teddy bear. She solemnly sucked the thumb of her free hand.

  A jar of peanut butter and a spoon lay next to her in the chair.

  “My goodness,” Annie murmured, staring at the girl.

  “Who is she?” Alice asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t recognize her at all.”

  “How old do you think she is, Annie?”

  “No more than two and a half or three, I’d say. She may be older, but just tiny and frail.”

  The girl shrank back as Annie approached. Dark smudges beneath the large blue eyes almost looked like bruises.

  Annie knelt and rested her hands on the arm of the chair. She smiled gently, looking into those eyes.

  “Hi, sweetheart. Can you tell me your name?”

  The girl simply stared at her. Annie glanced up at Alice who now stood on the other side of the chair. Alice lifted her shoulders and bit her lower lip. She bent down.

  “Where’d you come from, honey?” she asked.

  The child blinked, slid her gaze from Annie to Alice, but still she said nothing.

  “How in the world did she get in here?” Annie said. “I only left the windows open a crack, and she’s far too small to have raised one the rest of the way by herself.”

  Alice glanced toward the library window.

  “Even if she had done that, she’d have to remove a screen. Annie, did you lock your doors this morning when you left?”

  “Yes. In fact, as I was unlocking the front door a little bit ago, I was thinking how silly it was to lock the doors when the windows were open.”

  “Then she had to come in through a window.”

  “Yes. She didn’t magically appear inside Grey Gables.”

  The little girl shifted in the chair, snuggling down more into the dingy blanket.

  “Alice,” Annie said, looking at the child, “would you finish closing all the windows for me so the house can get warm? I was shutting them when I saw the light coming from in here.”

  “Of course.” Alice straightened, started to move away and then stopped. “I wonder how long she’s been in here.”

  “I don’t know. Long enough to eat this, with this.” Annie picked up the small jar of peanut butter and spoon.

  “She’s probably hungry.”

  At Alice’s words, the little girl turned her head and looked at Alice with expectation. It was the first sign of any emotion.

  “Are you hungry, sweetheart?” Annie asked.

  The girl looked at her and nodded.

  “For goodness’ sake. Well, then, let’s get you fed.”

  Annie reached for her, somewhat tentatively, expecting the girl to shrink back. Instead, the child removed the thumb from her mouth and held out her arms.

  Annie smiled and gathered her into her arms.

  “Maybe she’ll talk after her tummy is full,” Alice said.

  “Yes. I hope so!”

  In the kitchen, Annie settled the little girl in a kitchen chair, snugly tucking the pink blanket around her. She wanted to fix something quick, warm, and nutritious. Perhaps some of the leftover potato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich would fit the bill.

  She could hear Alice shutting the windows upstairs. When Alice joined them, Annie was spooning soup into a bowl.

  “Alice, would you please get one of the twins’ booster seats from the closet under the stairs while I finish fixing her dinner?”

  “Sure!” Alice gave the girl a smile and said, “Mmm! Do I smell grilled cheese sandwiches?” The girl blinked at her, but did not speak.

  A few minutes later, as the kitchen warmed, Annie settled the little girl into the booster seat, tied a clean dish towel around her neck, and put a bowl of soup, the sandwich, and a glass of milk in front of her. The girl grabbed the milk and gulped it.

  “My word!” Annie gasped. “She’s been starving for milk!”

  “Starving for just about everything from the looks of it,” Alice said, filling the glass again.

  The two women watched as the child devoured her food.

  “Oh, goodness. And look at her eyes. Do you think someone has hit her?”

  Annie shook her head. “No. I think she’s just frightened, hungry, and very tired. LeeAnn used to get circles around her eyes like that when she was worn out. Plus, when I washed her face and hands I didn’t see any bruises or other signs of her being hurt.”

  They watched in silence as the girl tipped her bowl and drained the last of her soup.

  “How in the world did that tiny stomach hold so much?” Alice marveled.

  “I think it’s been empty all day. I wonder if she showed up this morning? I went straight to Portland from the meeting.”

  “Poor little thing.”

  They both stared at the child, and then Alice asked in an undertone, “Annie, what in the world do you plan to do with her?”

  Annie sucked in a deep breath and let it out.

  “I haven’t even really thought past getting her warm, fed, and clean.
I guess I should call the police.”

  “Probably you should.”

  “Yes.”

  Both women sighed in unison.

  “So are you going to?” Alice said.

  “Call the police? Of course. But look at her; she’s tired. I think I’ll bathe her and put her to bed. Then I’ll call the authorities in the morning. Besides, however she got here, whatever has happened up to this point, she’s been through enough for one day. I can at least give her a few hours of comfort and care.”

  Alice smiled at Annie and patted her arm. “I think you’re right,” she said. “I’ll help you.”

  Annie gave her friend a grateful smile. “If you’d like to start a nice warm bath … you can add some of that Mr. Bubble I bought to use for the twins … it’s in the guest bath upstairs. I’ll see if I can find her something to wear.”

  Alice nodded. “I’m on it.”

  She patted the blond head as she passed on her way out the door. The little girl looked up and almost smiled. Her eyelids drooped, and it was easy to see she was nearly asleep in the chair. Annie picked her up.

  “Honey, what’s your name?”

  The child shrugged.

  “Don’t you know your name?”

  The girl blinked her large eyes.

  “What does your mommy call you?”

  The little girl shrugged.

  “Do you know your mommy’s name?”

  Blink. Sigh. Thumb into mouth.

  “Mommy,” she whispered around the thumb and rested her head on Annie’s shoulder.

  Upstairs, Annie knelt in front of the girl and unwrapped the blanket from around her. She started to remove the faded, too small red sweat suit the girl wore when she saw a scrap of paper pinned to the ragged top.

  “What’s this?” She unclasped the safety pin and unfolded a square of paper. She read it, and then said, “Alice? W-would you come h-here, please.”

  She stared at the note in her hand until Alice appeared in the doorway. “Annie! What’s wrong?”

  Wordlessly, Annie handed her the paper. The girl merely stood where she was and sucked her thumb.

  Alice read the note aloud, “Dear Annie, Please take care of Noelle for me. I’ll be back to get her.” She looked up, eyes wide. “What?” She read the note again, silently this time. “Who wrote this?” She turned the paper over, looking for more writing. “Annie, where’d you get this?”

  “It was pinned to her top, with this.” She held up the safety pin. “We didn’t see it earlier because we kept her bundled up in that blanket so she’d be warm.”

  The two women stared wordlessly at each other.

  “What does it mean?” Alice whispered after a time.

  Annie swallowed hard, turned her gaze to the sleepy child standing before her. The girl’s eyelids drooped.

  “I don’t know,” Annie said, “but I do know this child—Noelle—is about to fall asleep on her feet. I’m going to bathe her and put her to bed, and then I’ll think about everything.”

  Once she had undressed and bathed the sleepy child in a warm, sudsy bath and washed her tangled hair, Annie dressed the girl in the smallest T-shirt she could find in her own dresser drawer. She carried her to the spare room she’d prepared for the twins, and then tucked her and the bedraggled teddy bear into the bed. For a while, Annie sat on the edge of the bed, stroking the silky, silvery hair, watching the little girl suck her thumb as she slept. How had this happened? Was it just a coincidence that Annie would find this needy little girl at a time when she needed someone to take care of? Was Noelle her gift from Stony Point’s Santa? Even her name held a deeper meaning at this time of year.

  She stopped herself, acknowledging that such pondering was foolish, if not wrong. This child was a person, not an inanimate trinket or toy.

  “Where do you think she came from?” Alice whispered from the doorway, interrupting Annie’s thoughts.

  Annie shook her head.

  “I wish I knew,” she whispered back. “It’s so odd, finding her here ….”

  “I wonder if she’s been kidnapped?”

  Annie snapped her head around to look at her friend. “Kidnapped?”

  The girl stirred. Annie turned back to her, but she still slept. She smoothed the blankets one last time and then leaned forward and kissed the thin pale cheek.

  “Poor baby,” she murmured. “Sleep well, little one.”

  Annie got up, turned on the bunny rabbit night light that she used when the twins visited, and snapped off the bedside lamp. She and Alice went back downstairs.

  “What do you mean kidnapped?” she said the moment they reached the bottom step.

  “As in taken, of course. Taken from her family.”

  “But she’s in my house, Alice. I didn’t take her.”

  “I don’t mean you. I mean maybe someone abducted her and hid her here.”

  Annie sought words and found none. Alice had often come up with strange notions; this was no exception. Annie shook her head, trying to shake loose a reasonable response.

  “Let’s have some hot coffee,” she said, finally. “This old house is still cold.”

  In the homey, comforting kitchen, she made fresh decaf and filled their cups.

  “Honestly, I have to say your theory is a bit farfetched. Why in the world would someone steal a child and then stash her at my house? It’s crazy.”

  Alice sipped her hot coffee, leaning forward. “Not really. I mean, think about it, Annie. Grey Gables isn’t in a cookie-cutter neighborhood with neighbors really close. It’s rather off to itself here. You have the woods and the pond to the sides. The beach isn’t private; anyone can be out there.”

  “You mean maybe someone on the beach spotted this house and saw it as a safe haven?”

  Alice nodded. “But temporarily. The kidnapper will return for Noelle.”

  “So, in your mind, the person who wrote that note abducted the little girl, strolled along the coastline of Maine, in the dead of winter, until they found my house and dropped her off … for what reason? Safekeeping? Free babysitting? That idea is just too ridiculous for words.”

  Alice huffed at her.

  “No, it isn’t! Listen. This might have been in the works for a long time. Maybe someone chose your house back in the summer. You’re friendly to everyone. When you take your walks along the beach, you probably talk to complete strangers, point to Grey Gables, and say ‘I live right there. Y’all come see me sometime.’ That would be just like you, Annie. Just like you!”

  Annie was already peeved at her friend for her lack of action on behalf of Sara earlier in the day. This unreasonable scenario rankled her like cold wind against chapped skin.

  “My being friendly is part of who I am,” she retorted. “I am not going to change just because I moved north. And for your information, I do not point out my house to complete strangers and invite them in. I’m not stupid, which is what this whole concocted story of yours is.”

  The two women glowered at each other.

  “I’m just trying to help!” Alice snapped.

  “Then don’t come up with such a ridiculous theory! This is a serious situation, and we need clear heads and clear thinking.”

  Alice gulped the hot coffee and winced as it went down. She set the cup down with a definite thunk and put her fingers to her lips as tears sprang to her eyes. Annie got her a glass of cold water.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “Did you burn yourself?”

  Alice shook her head and allowed the cold water to bathe her mouth and throat.

  “I’m fine,” she croaked. Then she sipped more water.

  Annie watched, feeling irritated, guilty, sorry, deflated, and weary. She closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed her temples.

  “I’m sorry for snapping at you. Let’s start over,” she said, opening her eyelids. “OK?”

  Alice hesitated and then nodded. “I apologize too,” she said. “I just said what popped into my head.”

  Alice of
ten spoke before she thought, but Annie chose not to mention that little fact.

  “I suppose your theory could be true,” Annie said, “but I don’t think it’s too likely.

  “Right. But someone put her in here.”

  “But who? And when? And how?” asked Annie.

  “When I closed the rest of the windows for you, I saw the screen was off one of the windows in the living room,” Alice said quietly. “I’m pretty sure that’s how they got in.”

  “Oh,” Annie said weakly. “Oh, my. Someone actually got into my house through one of those windows.”

  “Stella was right,” Alice suggested.

  “Yes.” Something occurred to Annie. “But what if the windows had not been opened? Do you think the person would have left Noelle on the porch?”

  “I hardly think so. She would have frozen to death. Probably they would have taken her somewhere else.”

  “Like the carriage house.”

  “Yes. Maybe they would have left her on my doorstep.” Alice looked a little alarmed at the thought.

  They sat silently, sipping coffee, thinking.

  “Annie, you have to call the police,” Alice said at last, in a voice so quiet Annie had to lean forward to hear her. “Whoever brought that little girl to Grey Gables is still out there somewhere.”

  “I know.”

  “They did not give you that child as a Christmas gift.”

  Annie met her friend’s eyes. It seemed Alice knew her better than Annie had realized.

  “I know that,” Annie said, “but looking after her for a while is a bit of a gift—this year especially.”

  “Whoever left her here will be back.”

  Annie nodded. “Yes. That’s what the note said.”

  “Annie,” Alice said after a minute. “You need to call the police.”

  Rather than answer her directly, Annie said, “Listen to that wind, Alice. The storm is here.”

  “The police vehicles are able to get through snowstorms.”

  “We already talked about this. The poor little thing was exhausted, and now she’s sound asleep.”

  “Annie.”

  Right then, all Annie wanted to do was comfort and cuddle that little one sleeping upstairs. Once again, Alice seemed able to look into Annie’s head and read her mind. She reached out and covered one of Annie’s hands with one of her own. She squeezed gently, and her eyes brimmed with gentle understanding.