Memory Tree

by Pittman, Joseph

  CHAPTER 12

  CYNTHIA

  At least their Secret Santa drawing would be alive with wintery atmosphere, Cynthia thought. How empty Memorial Park and the gazebo had looked the other day without a coating of snow, the holiday bunting that hung from the gazebo’s roof and brightly beaming lights looking forlorn without their frosty accoutrement. But the storm the other night had taken care of that issue, and so today’s event would imbue them all with the holiday spirit, adding to the drama of half the town showing up to find out whom they would be playing Secret Santa with. The drawing was only an hour away at this point and she was running late; she had to get down to the gazebo and attend to the finishing touches, not wanting to stick Gerta with, no doubt, last-minute entrants.

  “Bradley, are you all set?”

  “I’m just trying to put Jake into his new snowsuit and boots,” he said from atop the stairs. “It’s not easy. This kid is squirming big-time.”

  “That’s because he’s never worn it before.”

  Cynthia smiled, the image of her son bundled up like an inflated snowman reminding her to pack their camera. As she dug into a drawer in their first-floor office for the digital camera, a feeling of sorrow washed over her, as she realized starting next year she would have to share photographs of her growing boy via e-mail and social media. Gone would be the days when she could rush over to the farmhouse and show Janey and Brian the latest googly face he had made. This move across the country might as well be taking them to the other side of the moon, but of course, that was why she was spending so much time and energy on this Christmas. She wanted to leave Janey with so many memories, all wrapped up with the kind of embrace they expected in Linden Corners, a warmth to melt away the bitter cold the young girl would be feeling on moving day.

  “Hey, you okay?” Bradley asked.

  She hadn’t even seen him approach and now welcomed his hands on her shoulders as he massaged her. “Oh, don’t stop. Can’t we just stay here?”

  “Do you mean Linden Corners? Not move?”

  She sighed, thinking how nice that sounded. But no, she knew that wasn’t possible, not anymore. The job was his, the house was on the market, her life was changing. “No, I mean here. Just you and me and Jake and a relaxing afternoon.”

  He kissed her on the cheek. “Come on, girl, this Secret Santa mess is all your fault.”

  “Humbug,” she said.

  It wasn’t that she really wanted to remain home, but sometimes when the little moments in life sprung up on you, you wished for time to stand still. She saw Jake in his seat, squirming to escape, beginning to cry, and despite the noise the image brought a wide smile to her face. So much for that wished-for relaxation; her little miracle was anxious to get going. “We’ve got one stop to make; then it’s off to the gazebo.”

  “What’s Brian having you doing now?”

  “What makes you think Brian’s involved?”

  “I heard you on the phone with him earlier,” he said.

  True, Brian had phoned her this morning, asking for what he termed a “huge” favor, and once he’d explained what that favor entailed, she was on his side. “I’ll tell you on the ride over.”

  They left the house and got into the car, packing Jake into his child seat in the back. He squirmed again until he grew unusually fussy; Cynthia imagined he was uncomfortable being strapped in while wearing that bulky snowsuit. She told him it was only a quick trip, but those words did little to soothe an eighteen-month-old, and so they dealt with a crying Jake while Bradley drove the short distance to the Duncan farmhouse. As he was about to pull into the driveway, she told him to continue down to the end of the road and head to the windmill.

  “Another windmill surprise?” he asked.

  “Bradley Knight, you love that old windmill as much as anyone,” she said. “Didn’t you and Dan Sullivan hang around there?”

  “More like the stone bridge between our properties,” he said with a wistful laugh. “The stream would keep our beers cold while we talked the night away. Wow, I haven’t thought about those days in a long time. What made you think of Dan?”

  “Guess he’s been on my mind, he and Annie. You know . . .”

  “We lost our best friends, both of us.”

  “And now Janey is losing us.”

  Bradley pulled to the side of the road, and Cynthia found him looking at her. “Okay, you want to tell me what’s really going on?”

  “Bradley, I just want to make sure Janey has a wonderful Christmas.”

  “So she doesn’t forget you?”

  “Bradley Knight, if you make me cry right now . . .”

  “Fine, to the windmill we go,” he offered, continuing until he had at last turned onto the main highway, pulling over to the shoulder a half mile down. “Okay, I see . . . one, two . . . that’s it . . . no, wait, there’s a third person. Let me guess—those are Brian’s parents alongside him and you’re here to relieve him of his mother and keep her busy in town while he busily decorates the windmill for the holiday. How am I doing so far?”

  “Not bad, Detective. Your story is a little incomplete,” she said.

  “Ah, more guessing—you want me to stay behind and help him.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “That’s why I love you so.”

  “So the menfolk stay here and work, while the womenfolk go into town to organize the biggest shopping spree this town has ever seen.”

  “Jake’s coming with me,” she said.

  “Ah, to be coddled by said womenfolk.”

  “Bradley Knight, you’re more evolved than that.”

  “Sorry, just practicing my Texas macho routine.”

  She punched him hard in the arm. “No more reminders of our move, not today, please. Let me enjoy Linden Corners one last time.”

  “Oww,” he said, rubbing his biceps.

  She laughed. “So much for macho.”

  The two of them trudged through the snowy field en route to the windmill, Jake happy again to be released from the constraints of his seat. Brian welcomed them with a friendly wave and then introduced his parents to the men of the Knight family.

  “So what are the Knights up to today?” Brian asked, pretending this visit was unplanned. Cynthia didn’t find his tone very convincing, and she noticed a hint of skepticism toying with Didi.

  “Brian Duncan, you have a terrible memory,” Cynthia said, playing along and hoping she was doing a better job. “Today we draw names for the village’s Secret Santa celebration . . . Why don’t you all join us? Surely you’ve put everyone’s name in the hat?”

  “What’s this, the entire village is playing?” Kevin asked.

  Cynthia nodded. “Only those who want to; we can’t force everyone, but at last count we had over three hundred entrants, and I suspect we’ll get a few dozen who have been on the fence suddenly tossing their names in before the drawing begins.”

  “Sounds like a huge undertaking,” Didi commented.

  “As much as I’d like to go, I’ve got some work to finish here at the farmhouse,” Brian said. “Janey will be there. She’s been at Gerta’s since late morning, helping Nora and Travis set up their tree. Janey said she would pick mine and promised not to look at who I got . . . unless I can get this work done beforehand and join in on the fun. Hey, Mom, Dad, why don’t you go on with Cynthia. It’ll give you a chance to meet more of the folks in town.”

  “I’ll stay behind, Brian, keep you company,” Kevin said. “Didi, go on ahead, sounds like a fun afternoon.”

  Bradley then piped up and suggested he remain behind too and help, saying, “Maybe that way we’ll get done sooner and be able to join you for the end of the drawing.”

  “Uh-oh, Didi, I think it’s the men versus the women here.”

  “Yes, so it appears,” Didi replied, her lips pursed.

  So the group agreed upon the plans, with Didi set to accompany Cynthia—who insisted Jake come with them—for an afternoon in downtown Linden Corners. As they prepa
red to leave, Didi grabbed Brian by the arm and told him he was as subtle as a frozen snowball, and then with Cynthia grinning and tossing her friend an amused look, they started down the field.

  “Brian,” Didi said, turning back, “don’t let your father do any heavy lifting. No ladders.”

  “Didi . . .”

  “That’s okay. I’ve got Bradley for that,” he said.

  Even Cynthia partook of the laughter, and the two women, joined by a wailing Jake, who still wasn’t happy about being in his snowsuit, got into the car and drove off toward the village, where the official start of the Christmas season was set to begin. The Secret of Linden Corners celebration was under way.

  “The two of you are terrible actors,” Didi remarked.

  “Trust me, Didi, what Brian’s doing, it’ll be worth it. Brian’s pretty good at surprises.”

  Didi allowed herself a small smile. “Of course he is. Where do you think he got it from?”

  The crowd gathered around the snowy Memorial Park was impressive, all of them milling about while nearby parking lots overflowed with cars. And while it was only three in the afternoon and the light of day hadn’t fully descended, downtown was held in a glowing halo of color emanating from the roofs, sides, and porches of the neighboring businesses, from Marla and Darla’s Trading Post to Ackroyd’s Hardware Emporium, the Five O’ Clock Diner and George’s Tavern, and even a bit farther down, at A Doll’s Attic, the local Hudson Valley bank, and a Realtor’s office. Cynthia wondered where she was going to park, not even having thought about that problem, but then she saw Nora waving to her from the sidewalk near the entrance of the park. She pulled over.

  “We’ve got a spot saved for you at the tavern; you’ll see Mark there holding it for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “My goodness, how everyone looks out for their neighbors,” Didi commented.

  “Welcome to Linden Corners,” Cynthia said.

  “Yes, an oft-used phrase,” she said. “Like we’ve stumbled upon Brigadoon, here for just a short time before disappearing for another hundred years.”

  Cynthia grew sad at the prospect, realizing the old legend held a kernel of truth for her.

  “Are you okay, dear?”

  “Your comment makes me realize just how much I’m going to miss this place.”

  Didi held out her arm, locking eyes with Cynthia. “Brian has told me you’re leaving here early next year. While I know it will be difficult for all involved, perhaps for Jane the most, you have to pursue your dreams. Time waits for no one.”

  “I worry about that girl so much,” Cynthia said. “But not because of Brian. He’s great.”

  Didi thanked her, then suggested they put such talk on hold, since it appeared the entire town was waiting on her arrival. They parked, with Mark Ravens playfully directing them into the reserved spot like a valet. At his side was Sara, obviously pregnant beneath her long coat. More introductions were forthcoming, Didi smiling widely as a scruffy-faced Mark welcomed her to their humble village, telling her how much Brian had helped him and his wife.

  “I mean, Sara and I fell in love because of him, and we found a home together because of him, and we got married thanks to his efforts,” Mark said. “We owe him our future.”

  “My goodness, Brian certainly is an industrious man about town, isn’t he?”

  “When we lost Annie after that awful storm,” Sara said, “he became our heart. The way he restored the windmill, what he really did was help restore an entire village. But you’ll see that for yourself soon enough. In the meantime, I think the natives are restless, eager to see who they have to go shopping for. Personally I hope I get someone I know . . . I mean, I know that’s not the point, but picking out gifts is hard enough. To get for a stranger . . . how about you, Mrs. Duncan? For you I suppose we’re all strangers.”

  “Oh no, I’m not participating,” she said. “My goodness, I’ve only been here little more than a day.”

  “Come on, babe, let’s get you settled at the park. So many people here—Cyn, do you think we’ll be done before Sara goes into labor?”

  As the Ravenses walked off hand in hand, Cynthia took hold of Jake from his car seat, then took out the stroller and got him settled. Didi asked if she didn’t mind if she pushed it. It had been a long time since she’d played the role of grandmother, she explained. “Brian’s sister, Rebecca, has a son, Junior, and we barely see him now that he’s living with his father, but other than that, nothing.”

  “What about Janey?”

  “Oh, well, yes, I suppose . . . Cynthia, may I be honest?”

  “Of course.”

  “I haven’t always approved of Brian’s choice, having become a parent the way he did.”

  Cynthia nodded. She knew. She’d heard Brian talk enough about his frustrations with his parents over his new life in Linden Corners, but now she held those secrets on her tongue, not wishing to embarrass the woman. From what Brian had said of Didi Duncan, admitting to such a truth must have been difficult, and Cynthia was all too happy to listen. Perhaps she could help heal the rift. Perhaps she could get Didi to think of Janey as a granddaughter. Family was not all about blood; it was about bonds. And she’d never before seen the kind of bond that existed between Brian and Janey, almost like destiny had dropped Brian down in the land of the windmill for the express purpose of raising a girl who’d suffered her share of storms, a girl who, through the generosity of those around her, strangers and friends alike, would live to again see sunshine.

  “Then I’m glad you’re here now,” Cynthia said. “We do Christmas right, and you’ll see just how special Brian and Janey are together.”

  At last the two women, with a sleeping Jake before them, came up the plowed pathway of the park, where they went directly to the steps of the gazebo. Residents were milling about, saying hello, drinking coffee provided by the Five-O, but all knew that Cynthia had organized this event and so her arrival must mean they were about to get started. All the seats were filled, and the rest of the villagers remained standing, all of them encircling the gazebo. Didi told her to attend to her business; she’d look after Jake. As Cynthia took the steps, she saw Janey come running up from behind and drop down into the snow, staring at Jake but not disturbing him. Let him sleep, please. Janey ended up on Didi’s lap, the older woman left with a surprised expression on her face.

  Cynthia imagined that Didi was already getting comfortable in that grandmother role.

  The image gave her the fuel to carry on, and so it began.

  “Hi, everyone. Welcome to the first and hopefully not last Linden Corners Secret Santa drawing,” Cynthia said, addressing the crowd. “I know you’re eager to get started, so let me explain briefly how this is going to happen. Gerta and I have the master list of all those who have already put their name into the hat, so when you come up we’ll cross your name off the list and then you’ll get to draw a name. And please, while we obviously cannot police this, no switching names with other people, and don’t tell anyone whom you picked. If you’re not certain what gift to get your person, don’t ask your friends; search your heart.”

  “Oh, and one other thing,” Gerta said. “On the odd chance you pick your own name, let us know and you can draw again. So let’s start with those who are sitting, and those standing, you can fill those empty seats. Folks, this is a truly great turnout, and it means that our annual Christmas pageant will be the most special one yet—which is really saying something. Shall we form a line and begin the drawing?”

  A general consensus of agreement erupted among the large crowd.

  “Wait, wait one more moment, everyone,” Cynthia said. “I’d like to ask if there’s anyone here who has not already put their name in the hat and would still like to participate. Last chance to join in the celebration on Christmas Eve. This is your last chance. Remember, the pageant leaves from my house at the northern edge of Crestview Road and goes through the woods and over the stone bridge until we arrive at the windmill
. Any last-minute Secret Santas?”

  A couple of people came forward and jotted their names down. While they did, Cynthia looked over at Jake, who was still sleeping, and at Janey, who was whispering something into the ear of Didi.

  Cynthia paused and then saw Didi’s hand go up. She held up two fingers.

  “I’m very happy to see that, Didi. Folks, for those of you who don’t know, visiting us this holiday season are Brian’s parents; his mother, Didi, is right over there,” Cynthia said to the crowd. She turned to watch Gerta write down two names: Didi Duncan and Kevin Duncan.

  With the new entrants’ names tossed into the oversize Santa hat, Cynthia felt energized. She got the line organized and began to guide the residents one by one. First came many of the folks from Edgestone Retirement Home, with Elsie leading the way and an unsteady-on-his-feet Thomas Van Diver, who told Cynthia he wouldn’t have missed this for anything, especially since his birthday fell on Christmas Day.

  “It feels like one big party for a man soon to turn eighty-six,” he said.

  “Just wait until you see all the lit candles,” Cynthia told him.

  Thomas then stepped into the gazebo, thrust his arm down inside the hat, and pulled out a slip of paper. He gazed at it, nodded, before he moved along.

  After the older folks departed came a burst of youthful energy, with Travis Connors stepping up, a bunch of friends lined up behind him. Gerta crossed their names off, and they chose their names and moved on, each of them teasing the others into trying to guess whom they got and who wanted to switch. Not much Cynthia could do about that. Soon came Martha and Sara and Mark, and even Chuck, who pulled out a name and grimaced when he read what was written on the card.

  “Can I try again?”

  “Chuck Ackroyd, you play nice,” Gerta said. “And whoever it is, no hammers from your store. You really have to shop.”