A Stony Point Christmas

by K. D. McCrite

  “It’s been a while since I was here, so I brought you a few groceries,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady so as not to show the exasperation that she felt. “And actually, not that I need your gratitude, but saying ‘thank you’ would be good for your soul.”

  He said nothing.

  “I want to ask you something.”

  He remained silent, but did not shut the door in her face.

  “Did you leave me a ‘little something’ in my house yesterday?”

  He blinked once, and his scowl deepened.

  “You live in that old gray Victorian?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t leave you anything. Good day.”

  He started to shut the door, but she thrust her foot across the threshold and grabbed the doorframe with one gloved hand.

  “I’m talking about a little girl, about two or three years old. Did you leave a little girl at my house?”

  His look of astonishment was almost comical, open-mouthed like a gasping fish.

  “Lady,” he said, after a moment, “I’ve thought all along you probably have a screw loose, and now I know for sure you do. Where would I get a little girl, and why would I leave one at your house?”

  “I don’t know, but someone did!” she blurted before she thought.

  His mouth wagged again.

  “Someone left a kid at your house? Why?”

  “I don’t know!” She all but stomped her foot, and to her horror, felt tears sting her eyes. Where did they come from? She blinked rapidly. “I don’t know why someone would leave a lethargic, underweight, poorly dressed little girl in my house while I was gone, but someone did. You are the only stranger I’ve come across near Grey Gables, so I just thought ….”

  He held up one hand.

  “You thought that I, being a stranger, left a child on your doorstep?” He laughed without humor, shaking his head. “It’s almost Dickensian, isn’t it?”

  “I’m just trying to find where she came from,” Annie said.

  “Perhaps I’m a kidnapper, is that it?”

  Annie’s annoyance and consternation quickly flared into anger.

  “I don’t know you except as the sour, bitter old man I’ve been trying to help. For all I know you are a kidnapper! Or a bank robber. Maybe you run a dog-fighting ring.”

  He stared hard at her, apparently unmoved by the verbal attack.

  “I take it that you resent that child,” he said in a calm, reasonable voice that jarred her.

  “What? No! Of course not. What a thing to say!”

  “Then why are you out here, on a bitterly cold day with a storm brewing, asking a suspicious old man—an old man who may be a bank-robbing, animal-abusing kidnapper if he left an unhealthy, needy child on your doorstep? Why aren’t you in your home taking care of her?”

  Annie realized, with the weight of a falling house, the foolishness of going to his shack that day. His disposition would never have allowed him to be around a child in the first place, let alone try to find a good home for one.

  “You’re right,” she said, backing away. “You’d never want, or even allow, a child around you. Children need love and want attention. They need to be taught manners and respect. They need caretaking. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She turned, walked a couple of steps, and then turned back. “Surly and ungrateful as you are, I refuse to leave you in need. Can I bring you anything?”

  He stared at her through the small opening of the door for a long time. She watched as something crossed his features and settled in his eyes. He shook his head.

  “I need nothing.” He paused and then added, “Thank you.”

  He shut the door firmly, and Annie blinked in surprise. She wondered if that was the first time the man had said those two words in his entire life.

  “You’re welcome,” she said to the closed door.

  His two final words echoed in her mind all the way back to the carriage house.

  ****

  When Annie got back to the carriage house, Alice was sitting in front of the TV watching Judge Judy and working on her cross-stitch. She muted the sound with the remote the instant Annie came in.

  “You look absolutely frozen!” she cried, getting up. “I made some hot chocolate earlier. Let me pour your some.”

  Annie nodded gratefully. Her fingers were so stiff with cold that she could barely remove her gloves and unwind the woolen crocheted scarf from her throat. Leaving her coat on and buttoned, she trailed Alice into the kitchen.

  “Is Noelle still sleeping?”

  “Still asleep, bless her heart,” Alice said, pouring a huge white mug to the brim with steaming cocoa.

  Annie accepted the mug and happily wrapped her fingers around the warmth.

  “Mmm,” she said, drinking. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  “Come into the living room and settle down,” Alice said. “You can wrap that gorgeous russet afghan you made last year around your poor frozen body. I’ll even turn up the heat.”

  “That sounds lovely,” Annie agreed, returning to the living room. She all but gulped the hot chocolate. “I’ll leave my coat on a bit longer too. I do believe my blood has frozen, maybe even the marrow of my bones.”

  Alice laughed with her. “I’m sure it feels that way, walking along the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, in Maine, on a blustery winter day.”

  “I’m a sucker for punishment, I guess, as often as I’ve done it in the last two weeks,” Annie said. She settled into a small recliner. Before she could do more than take a couple of breaths, Alice had tucked the thick, soft afghan around her.

  “Thank you,” Annie said. She ran one hand over the stitches, fingering them gently. “I loved making this for you. The colors are so beautiful, and this shell pattern may be old-fashioned, but it’s still one of my favorite patterns.”

  “Who says it’s old-fashioned? Even if it is, it’s gorgeous, and I love it!” Alice declared. “And because you made it for me, I love it even more.”

  The two of them smiled at each other. Annie’s heart warmed in the presence of her friend. She and Alice sometimes had differences of opinions, but Annie doubted she could ever find a truer, more faithful friend in the world.

  “Annie,” she said, “before I forget it, I want to apologize for something.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. It’s why I came over to your house last night. At the meeting yesterday … when the others were being less than kind about Sara Downs ….” Alice’s looked down, her face flushing. “Well, I should have said something. I should have stood up for her like you did. Instead, I allowed myself to feel awkward, like a schoolgirl wanting to go with the popular crowd. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.” She looked up, meeting Annie’s eyes. “Do you forgive me?”

  Annie heard the words and knew the apology had been difficult for the strong-willed Alice. As irritated as she had been by her friend’s lack of a backbone yesterday, Annie never doubted that Alice was tenderhearted or felt compassion for Sara.

  “Of course I forgive you,” she said warmly. “I know you, Alice MacFarlane, and you’re a good woman.”

  Alice smiled, relief washing across her face.

  “Thank you! Now, let me give you a refill before I sit down,” she said, taking away the half-empty mug, “and when I come back, I want you to tell me what you found out from that old man.”

  The moment Alice returned with their cocoa, she sat on the sofa, drew her feet up under her, and said, “Shoot.”

  “He was surly as ever. In fact, I thought he wasn’t even going to come to the door, but I just kept knocking until he opened it.”

  Alice sipped her cocoa and lifted one eyebrow.

  “Of course you did. And?”

  “He had no idea what I was talking about. In fact, he accused me of not wanting Noelle.”

  “Huh?” Alice scowled. “What is he? Crazy?”

  Annie shrugged.

  “Well, what am I saying?” Alice continued. “O
f course he is. Living in a shack on the beach in the winter up here? Yeah, he’s nuts.”

  “Not nuts. Eccentric, I think, oddly turned for sure, but not nuts.”

  Alice made a face. “Trust you to stand up for him.”

  “I’m not standing up for him. You don’t know him.”

  “And neither do you, Annie. What’s his name? Where did he come from? Why is he here?”

  Annie reluctantly acknowledged her friend had a point. She didn’t know the old man at all. The only thing she knew was that he was elderly and alone in a place where even a young, healthy man should not stay during a harsh winter.

  “What makes you think he had nothing to do with Noelle?”

  “Because the shock on his face when I more or less accused him of leaving her here could not be duplicated by the best actor in the world. Besides, he’s not the type to have a youngster around. Trust me on that. He’s far too frail to be of a danger to anyone except himself, and right now he seems to be all right. I’ll keep checking on him every day or two, and if he seems to be—”

  “Oh, Annie, honestly! Sometimes you are too trusting for your own good.”

  “I don’t think so,” Annie said quietly. “Let’s remember the Good Samaritan, or a dozen other examples from the Bible. Let’s remember the verse: For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in.”

  Alice tilted her head sideways. “So speaks the daughter of missionaries. You know, you have a pure heart, Annie Dawson.”

  “That’s nice of you to say,” Annie said. “‘To the pure all things are pure.’ That’s a scripture my parents often quoted to me.”

  They both sipped their hot chocolate in silence for a bit, and then Alice sat up straight so fast that she nearly sloshed some on herself and the sofa. “Oh! Oh, Annie! The latest from Stony Point’s Santa!”

  Annie was about to take a drink but paused with the cup to her lips. She wriggled with anticipation.

  “What? Tell me!”

  “Well, guess who was the recipient this morning?”

  “I don’t know,” Annie said without even trying to guess. “Who?”

  “Take a guess!”

  “Goodness gracious, Alice, don’t make me guess. Who? You?”

  “Not me. Wally and Peggy Carson!”

  A little thrill ran through Annie’s blood. She set her mug on the coffee table.

  “Tell me more! What did they get?”

  “Annie, it’s the best thing you can possibly imagine for that family. Santa paid off their mortgage!”

  Annie’s mouth fell open, and then she laughed with pure joy. There was not another couple in all of Stony Point she’d rather see receive such a generous gift.

  “Peggy called me just a short time after you left,” Alice said. “She was laughing and crying all at the same time. John Palmer had just called them from the bank with the news.”

  “I think that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time!”

  “I agree,” Alice said. “Just think how much easier life will be for them without that house payment hanging over their heads. Both of them work so hard.”

  “Yes! Oh, my goodness, I am just so happy for them!”

  The two women sat grinning at each other.

  “Let me ask you something,” Annie said after a bit. “Do you still think I’m Santa? I mean, paying off that mortgage … you know I could not do that—right?”

  Alice sighed, and tipping her head to one side slightly, studied Annie’s face.

  “I guess I’ll have to give up that notion. If you had that kind of money, I have a feeling I would have known about it before now.”

  “Good! I’m glad you’re finally seeing reason. And do me a favor. Make sure everyone else sees reason too.”

  Alice laughed at her. “I’ll do my best. But I say whoever Santa is, I’m glad he or she favored Wally and Peggy.”

  “Amen to that!”

  Alice glanced at Annie’s cup. “Are you warm yet? Want some more cocoa?”

  Annie shook her head. “I think I’ve had enough to keep me up for a few nights! Thank you, but no more. And yes, actually, I’m considerably warmer now. Warm enough maybe to shed this coat.”

  She unwrapped the afghan, unbuttoned the coat and removed it, shivering a bit as she shed its warmth.

  “Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll become acclimated to Maine winters.”

  “Maybe.”

  Noelle padded into the living room right then, rubbing at her eyes and yawning. She crawled up on Annie’s lap and snuggled against her chest.

  “Nanny,” she said.

  “Isn’t that sweet, calling me Nanny instead of Annie?” Annie said, kissing the top of the girl’s head. “Hello, sweetheart. Did you have a nice nap?”

  The girl nodded.

  Annie looked at Alice said teased, “What will she call you, I wonder? Malice?”

  “Oh ha ha—very funny,” Alice said, giggling. “She’ll probably call me something like Beautiful Auntie Alice. Won’t you, Noelle?”

  The girl gave her a big-eyed look, popped her thumb in her mouth, and rested contentedly against Annie.

  ****

  That afternoon, Annie cut out fabric and sewed two small, long-sleeve nighties. A cheery fire burned in the living room fireplace, and a rich stew simmered on the stove. Noelle played with the bear and the elephant, and watched cartoons on television.

  Shortly before twilight inked out the last of daylight, Annie heard something on the front porch. She was hand-stitching the hem on Noelle’s second nightgown, but her needle stilled and she sat without moving, straining to hear. She might have dismissed the sound as her imagination, but Boots was staring at the front window, her eyes bright and her ears slightly laid back. Maybe the sound had been snow sliding from the rooftop, or a branch breaking in a nearby tree, but Annie was sure the noise had come from her front porch.

  She put aside her sewing, got up, and stole quietly across the hall into the unlit dining room. Peeking outside with no light behind her, Annie narrowed her eyes, searching through the dimness and was rewarded to see movement. Someone hurried away, heading toward the coastal side of her property. She stared hard, and with a start recognized the black-and-red–plaid mackinaw that she had given to the old man from the beach.

  13

  Annie strained her eyes to be sure she saw what she thought she did. She could hardly believe it.

  “Stay right there, Noelle,” she said.

  She grabbed up an earth-brown afghan, wrapped it around her shoulders and hurried outside.

  Staring toward the figure that had crossed the road and now moved with speed farther from Grey Gables, Annie failed to see the bundle on her porch and tripped over it. Flailing like a windmill she struggled to keep from plummeting down the steps and managed to grab a post in the nick of time. She righted herself and caught her breath. Another glance to the east proved the old man was gone. There was no way Annie would chase after him, not without a coat and boots in the cold and snow—and she certainly wouldn’t leave Noelle in the house by herself.

  Annie’s near-fall had torn open the package and caused some of the contents to spill out. She gathered the package and its scattered contents and went back into the house. Noelle stood a few steps away from the door, silent tears flowing down her chalk-white cheeks.

  “Nanny!” she wailed.

  In an instant, Annie understood the pallor, the tears, the fear in the child’s eyes. Noelle had already been abandoned once; she obviously thought Annie had deserted her too. The items Annie held hit the floor as she rushed to Noelle.

  “Oh, honey,” she soothed the little girl. “Sweetheart, it’s OK. Annie is here. Annie didn’t leave you, and I won’t leave you.”

  She gathered the little girl into her arms, and Noelle clung to her like a fresh green vine. The child pointed to the living room and again said, “Nanny.”

  Annie carried her in
to the other room, sat in the rocker, and put it in motion. The package, the old man, the frigid night … all these faded in importance as she focused solely on comforting the little girl in her arms.

  “Annie will never leave you alone, little one,” she murmured.

  Noelle stared at the window where the screen had been removed and her tears flowed. It seemed she silently cried for hours, and Annie’s heart ached as she patiently rocked. She softly sang lullabies and Christmas carols until Noelle fell asleep against her. Even then, Annie held her, protecting and comforting, until she was sure the child was deeply asleep. Annie carried her upstairs, put her in one of the new nighties and tucked her in, all without the child waking up. She sat on the edge of the bed for a time, remembering nights long ago when she’d put her own daughter to bed and watched over her while she slept. With a tender smile, she planted a soft kiss on Noelle’s warm cheek, turned on the night light and went downstairs.

  Just a couple of feet inside the front door lay the contents of the package she’d found on the front porch. The first thing her gaze landed on was an apple-green downy snowsuit in a size small enough to fit Noelle. She picked it up, stared at it and then looked to see what else was there: tiny boots, some earmuffs, a dress coat, a pair of sturdy sneakers, shiny black Mary Jane shoes, tights, a baby doll and a stuffed white bear. As Annie examined the virtual treasure trove of little girl’s clothing, she felt her eyes get wider and wider.

  Her gaze fell on a small envelope almost hidden by the package wrappings. White and about five inches square, it was sealed. Annie broke the seal and removed a note written in a neat, upright script.

  “An early Merry Christmas, from Stony Point’s Santa,” she read aloud. She stared at the note and then flipped it over. She picked up the discarded envelope. Checking for anything written on it, and finding nothing on the outside, she looked inside. It had held the note and nothing more.

  “My goodness,” she said, faintly, sitting flat on the floor. Almost everything Noelle would need immediately was contained in that anonymous gift. “My goodness,” she repeated.

  Her thoughts raced, a thousand ideas flowing along what seemed, at the moment, an endless stream of possibilities. Had Alice made this generous gesture? After all, she was the only one who knew about Noelle; maybe she thought being a Secret Santa would be fun.