by Steven Hunt
“We’ll find him, honey.”
“Do you think he left because of what I said? I didn’t even get the chance to tell him that I’m going to rehab.”
Jane slowed the car before turning around on the shoulder and accelerating in the direction they’d come. The SUV fishtailed.
“Where’re we going?” Mandy asked.
“To the sheriff’s office. There has to be something they’ve missed.” She smiled at her daughter. “We’re going to remind them.”
10
Teddy shot from the hay bale. “Die? Isn’t that kind of…I don’t know…extreme?”
“I supposed you could see it that way.” She tucked a stray curl behind a small ear. “The way I see it is that you are already dead. Not physically, but most certainly emotionally and spiritually. You admitted that you abandoned your wife and daughter—”
“I left because I felt it was in their best interest!”
“—you do not have a business or a home to—”
“That’s unfair! Those were not my fault! You can’t put them on me.”
“You moved away from God and blamed Him for—”
“Well, yes. But…but—” Beads of perspiration trailed down the edge of his face. White noise filled his mind, preventing clear thoughts to break through.
“—and you turned your back on your business partner. Your selfish attitude damaged the relationships you once cherished.”
Where had he heard that before? Selfish? Oh, right. That was the term he’d used about Mandy after she dropped her bomb. Was his outlook really as negative as his daughter’s had been that odious night? “That’s not true. I care about others. I care about my…family.” His chin trembled again as his voice croaked. He didn’t want anyone to think of him as having a bad attitude—including Christy—even if the evidence against him proved to be true. He did care!
What about that absurd statement he was already dead? True, he had turned into an emotional wreck, but who wouldn’t if they suffered from depression? After being desolate for weeks, his display of emotions had mutated to a more stoical form, ceasing to advertise his emptiness and despair. What had been the point? For sympathy? Who would have felt bad for him anyway? He’d chosen to grovel in his own despair, alone. But he still had feelings—albeit buried. So how could he be emotionally dead if he could feel?
His spirituality was another matter. He believed in God. He’d just made wrong choices. Number one on the long list had been the decision to not attend church after Mandy was born. Over the years the excuses grew and not attending became easier. Too tired. Taking weekend trips. Not wanting to miss the game on TV.
Regardless of their accuracy, her allegations were invective. If she had been sent to help him, how could hurtful words help? Did she really have his interest in mind? Now more than ever he wanted to be rid of her.
But now more than ever he needed her.
Listening to Christy, his life hadn’t amounted to much. True, he’d settled into a dark place recently, but he refused to admit that he had nothing left to give. There was his—Well, he could—How about—?
When had his life become so meaningless? Didn’t he have anything to offer? A year ago, his opinions and suggestions were sought and honored.
Thinking of only himself, he’d lost sight of the important aspects of his life. Except one—his family. And he may have destroyed any chance of ever being united with them again because of his egocentric flee from Jubilee. He closed his eyes, clinging to his memories of Jane and Mandy. He couldn’t bear losing them.
“I have to get home.” Teddy focused on Christy. “Now.”
“You will. In seven days if you are successful with applying these three lessons to your life.”
“No. I have to get home now before I lose Jane and Mandy like I’ve lost everything else. I can’t wait seven days.” Teddy ran his fingers through his hair then shoved his sore hands into his pockets as a tidal wave of nervous energy washed over him. He started to his left before abruptly stepping to his right. He had to make Christy understand.
Christy shrugged. “If you tried going home now, severe obstacles will block your path. Much more harsh than what you have faced thus far. You will be unable to overcome them since you do not possess the tools to conquer the barriers that shall be built around you. Then you will certainly lose your family.” She stood, touching his arm with her small hand to stop his fidgeting. “The only way to achieve what your heart desires is to gather the tokens being offered within these lessons. Thereupon, you will be victorious over whatever evil befalls your life.”
The fire within him dowsed, he wilted against the wall to the floor. “But will Jane and Mandy have the strength to withstand seven days? Will they wait for me?”
Christy smiled.
There was something behind her visage of knowledge. He could tell she knew the answers but wouldn’t say.
“Let me get this straight…” He pushed himself off the floor. “I jump on this train—almost killing myself—with plans to start a new life away from all my troubles only to find a ten-year-old girl who says she’s not really a ten-year-old girl. Somehow—and I’m still not clear on how this happened—this child coaxes me into divulging the awful details of my lousy life that have driven me into a nasty, foul mood. She says she can help me, but I must trust her, and I have only seven days to learn three life lessons. In the mean time, she berates me not with words to boost my confidence but with ones that tear me down. She also tells me that if I choose to go home now, I will face problems more horrendous than the ones that drove me to try to kill myself in the first place, including losing the very two people who actually mean something to me. She has the answers to my questions, but she won’t tell me because they must be government secrets or something. Oh—and we can’t forget the big one—if I’m unable to complete these lessons before Christmas morning, I will die. Is this correct?”
She nodded.
He threw his arms in the air as he marched from one wall of the boxcar to the other. The muscles at the base of his neck tightened, the beginning of a migraine. “Just my luck! Why did I ever choose this train? I just thought my life was garbage before.” He massaged his temples. “In seven short days I will have gone from feeling dead to actually being dead. What else can happen?” He stopped, stabbing his right index finger into the air. “I know. Maybe I’ll contract a nasty disease—one that hasn’t a cure and makes everyone afraid to be near to me.” He combed his hair with his hands before rubbing his neck. “But that would only be cheating you of the joy of killing me, so that’ll not work.
“Maybe I’ll be arrested for a crime I didn’t commit and be sentenced to prison for the rest of my natural life—as short as it may be. No, not enough time for the trial. Don’t want to deprive justice, do we?”
He placed his hands on his hips, facing her. “I guess I’ll have to live in this blasted fog of confusion and depression the rest of my brief life, forcing me to question my every thought and decision. How about that? Can you do that for me, Christy? Or am I too fragile for your precious plan?”
“Please, Teddy, do not be so dramatic. I do not like the short time limit either, but I am not one to question the reasons. It is true that you are in a fragile condition, but that will aid us in your healing. We have been given seven days and seven days will we use.”
“Dramatic? I can’t believe you actually used that word. Look at me!” He held his arms extended from his sides. “Look at my life. Look at what I’ve become. Look at the poor excuse for a man standing in front of you. Look at all the tragedy my life has become. I think it’s OK if I’m a little hysterical.”
Christy’s eyes continued to follow him.
Teddy dropped his head as he leaned against the wall. He inhaled a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “OK. I know when I’m beat. Time is not on my side—much like everything else. What’s new? So—if I’m to worm myself out of his hole…” He sighed. “I’ll become your student.”
&nb
sp; He returned to his hay bale. “Faith, hope, and love, you say? I don’t know how you’re planning to teach these subjects, but I’m willing to listen—for now.” He waved his arm around the boxcar. “It seems as if I haven’t any place to be anyway.”
He leaned close to her. The aroma of peaches and lilacs filled his nose. “But let’s talk about you first. If I’m to follow your lead, I’ll need to know more about you other than just your name and that you look like a ten-year-old child. How about you come clean and tell me exactly who you are?”
She shrugged.
“The identity of your father?”
Another shrug.
He straightened. A spasm shot through his lower back, reminding him of the risk he took to catch this train. “You want me to trust you, but you’re unwilling to tell me anything about yourself or your father? Is that the best you can do? Trust does not come by keeping secrets.”
“Trusting me is in your best interest, Teddy.”
He shook his head. “It may be my only choice, but I can’t see it as being in my best interest. However, since you brought it up, tell me why you think it is.”
“Because without me or Father, you will surely die.” She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head.
He had to get away from her. The vagueness of her answers irritated him. He stood, grimacing at the pain radiating from his back while examining the confines of the boxcar. Nowhere to go. Facing away from her, he asked, “How can I trust you if you don’t trust me enough to answer my questions?”
“I promise to tell you everything you need to know at the appropriate time. The answers to your questions will come to you in due time.”
He turned to her. “What makes you qualified to help someone in my…um, predicament anyway?”
“I have helped many people over the years—three, of which, you will soon meet.” Her gaze matched his.
Something about the way she spoke made him want to believe her. But logic made her age contradict her words. How could a ten-year-old have helped many over the years? When did she start? Age five? “How can that be? You’re only ten.”
She sighed as she shook her head. “Must we discuss this again? As I previously mentioned, only your mind sees me as ten-year-old. You are comparing my image with the one in your heart of Mandy; when you and she shared pleasant times.”
“I just can’t wrap my mind around how this works.”
“Do not worry about that, Teddy. There will be many things you will not understand. Yours is only to believe that I have been sent to help you because Father and I love you and we will do whatever it takes to assist your return to a productive, satisfying life.”
He returned to his hay bale. The spasms in his back demanded he sit. He leaned his face within inches of hers—again smelling peaches and lilacs., “What are you?”
Christy ignored his question. “Do you remember any of the sermons Uncle Bud preached?”
He leaned away, studying her. “I don’t know. I was young.”
“You will recall them, Teddy. Your life will be such that you will not be able to resist remembering them.”
“What does that mean?”
Christy stood, smoothing her dress. “I suggest you get some rest. The next few days are going to be hectic. I will wake you when it is time.”
“So, is tonight the night I’m going to meet the Ghost of Christmas Past, the Ghost of Christmas Present, and the Ghost of Christmases Yet-to-Come? ’Cause what you’ve told me, it sounds like I’m in a modern day A Christmas Carol. Does that make you Jacob Marley?”
“Who?” Her forehead wrinkled.
“You know, Charles Dickens’s novella A Christmas Carol? It’s a famous story. Several movies have been made from that book.”
“I do not know this.”
“Aw, come on. Everybody knows the story. Three ghosts visit Ebenezer Scrooge, a loan shark in old England with a bitter attitude. The ghosts try to change his perspective on life before Christmas morning. Sound familiar?”
Christy shook her head.
“Really? Nothing?”
She stared at him.
“You must have seen it. Maybe with your father?”
Nothing.
“I can’t believe that. Every kid in America has seen the movie.” He stood. “Here’s how Dickens’s story is similar to my situation. I show up on this train with a bitter attitude—like Scrooge. You come to me—like Marley—and tell me you can help but I have to visit three people who will teach life lessons to me. Your three people are like the three ghosts. To me, it sounds much like the book but with some newfangled changes. However, I must agree with Dickens that it would be better if your teachers came to me instead of me going to them. Think of the time you’d save if your people lined up to do their thing in one night instead of stretching the lessons over seven days.” He smirked.
“Teddy, this is not a joking matter. The reality is if you do not learn these lessons you will die. I’m sure this Mr. Scrooge was not under such a potential catastrophic deadline as the one you face. Plus, this story you have described sounds like it was created in Mr. Dickens’s mind. Fiction with no realism. What you are experiencing is very real. Your situation is not the kind of thing that is made up or imagined. Of course, if you want to test your theory, it is your prerogative. Only you can make that choice. Father has granted you the freedom to choose. I must warn you, however. You will not like the result.”
Christy turned toward the stack of bales from which she’d appeared. “Get some rest, Teddy. You will need it,” she repeated over her shoulder.
“Rest, she says.” Teddy nestled in the loose pile of hay, the knots in his back screaming for attention. “Like that’s going to be possible knowing I might die in seven days if I don’t play her game.”
The mysterious light in the boxcar dimmed.
“Game on.”
11
“It is time. Get up.”
Blinking several times, Teddy could just make out the blurry image of Christy standing over him. Remarkably, her dress still did not have any wrinkles and every hair on her head was in place.
He wiped the drool from his mouth as he glanced around the boxcar. How long had it been since he’d drooled when he slept? The last time must have been decades ago when he was still a child. Lifting his left arm so he could see the hands on his watch he calculated that he’d been asleep for six hours.
“So it wasn’t a nightmare,” he said rolling to escape his hay cocoon. “You are real and this is happening?”
“Yes.”
Aching from head to toe, Teddy stood, gently stretching the sore muscles in his back. He looked at his own, hay-covered, blood-spotted, ripped clothes, wondering how Christy kept hers so clean. Combing his mangled hair with his fingers, he plucked several sticks and stems—the price for sleeping in a pile of hay—from his curls.
“Where are we?” he asked as he twisted his torso, still trying to limber his aging body.
“Where we need to be.”
He shot her a dirty look as he sauntered to the door. The sun had begun to rise, basking the countryside in a pinkish hue. Holding onto the metal handgrip outside the boxcar, Teddy leaned out to allow the blast of frigid air to awaken him while getting a better look at the scenery. The cold wind whipped by him as he leaned farther away from the safety of the car, chilling his face and hand while fluttering his shirt and coat.
The countryside sped by in a blur. Teddy didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The view looked the same as where he’d caught the train. Trees, bushes, and patches of snow flew by.
“It looks like we never left Jubilee. The scenery appears the same here as there. Are you sure this is where—”
A violent force slammed into his back. His hand ripped from the handgrip milliseconds before he felt himself falling through space. Flailing, his arms and legs grabbed for anything that would stop his fall. As he struck the frozen, snow-covered embankment, an “oof” escaped from his mouth before all the air
burst from his lungs. Clamping his eyes shut, he tumbled and rolled through snow banks, over rocks, and barreled through the thick underbrush. His momentum stopped as abruptly, knocking out what little air he’d managed to gulp back into his lungs as he collided with the trunk of a huge red oak at the base of the embankment. Pain shot like lightning through his legs, back, and head.
After several seconds, but seeming like minutes, he slowly opened his eyes. He’d landed on the edge of a thick forest. Trees and bushes of every make and age stood strategically positioned around him like a western posse surrounding an outlaw.
Christy approached, her dress clean and tidy.
“What’s the big idea of pushing me? You coulda killed me!” he shouted.
“You were never in any danger.”
“What? Are you kidding me?” He slowly stood, brushing his already dirty clothes free of snow and brown grass. Scores of convulsions blasted piercing pain through his back, dumping him to his knees. He gritted his teeth as a relentless agony washed over him.
Once the spasms subsided to where he could stand, he leaned against the trunk that had been the other half of his collision. “This tree nearly took my head off!”
Christy tilted her head. “Are you ready?”
“No, I’m not ready. I’m recuperating from being pushed off a moving train, for Pete’s sake! And, if you haven’t noticed, I’m in a great amount of pain.”
Christy shrugged.
“You don’t care, do you? You wouldn’t care if I’d broken my neck. Matter of fact, you probably wished I had been killed. Then you wouldn’t be burdened with me.” Just yesterday he felt he was being burdened with a tag-along. Now he had become the tag-along. Christy knew when to exit the train, knew their schedule, and knew their destination. He knew nothing and had become dependent on her.
“Why should I care?” she asked. “I am not the one who contemplated death as a better solution to life.” Her face cringed as she spoke. Teddy didn’t know why, but she had definitely cringed.