The Christmas Journal

by Jackson, Kimberly B. ;

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright 2014 Kimberly B. Jackson

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  Please enjoy this sample from The Christmas Answer by Kimberly B. Jackson.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Thank you

  The Christmas Journal

  Kimberly B Jackson

  Copyright 2014 Kimberly B. Jackson

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Cover Art by Joan Alley

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Published by Prism Book Group

  ISBN-10: 1940099927 ISBN-13: 978-1-940099-92-7

  First Edition, 2014

  Published in the United States of America

  Contact info: contact@prismbookgroup.com

  http://www.prismbookgroup.com

  PROLOGUE

  Dusting furniture wasn’t the type of gratification Ashley Moore craved in life. Since her return home, cleaning the old lodge had filled her days. Today felt different. She’d foregone the lodge, instead choosing her parent’s personal living quarters—a small cabin a short distance from the lodge. Now, she faced the one room she’d dreaded—her parent’s old bedroom.

  As she opened the door, dust particles floated in the air. Clearly, the room sat untouched since her mother’s death. A layer of dust coated the furniture—thick enough to write your name. A scent reminiscent of an old musky basement hung in the air. Pulling the closet door back, she realized her mother’s clothes still hung as they had ten years ago.

  “I can’t believe Dad hasn’t removed anything in here,” she said to herself as she ran her hands through her mother’s clothes. Touching the decade-old clothes somehow made her feel closer to her mother. A sneeze escaped her.

  Glancing to the left, she spotted her mother’s jewelry box, something she’d always loved to go through as a little girl. Lifting the top open, she gently picked up several of her mother’s costume rings. How she’d loved to play with them. Her eyes fixated on a silver cross necklace with a twenty-four inch length chain that her mother wore practically every day of her life. Unhooking the clasp, Ashley put on the necklace and looked at herself in the dusty mirror that hung above the dresser. A younger version of her mother’s face stared back, so much alike, but different too. The same brunette hair and petite frame. The same small nose and brown eyes. But Ashley had her father’s mouth.

  Drawing back the curtains released ten years of built-up dust that danced around the room as she struggled to open the somewhat uncooperative widows. The air outside was cold, but fresh, and necessary. It circulated throughout the room, sweeping away the gloom. As she exited the room, she closed the door.

  Following a tense lunch of take-out pizza her father brought, she continued to choke on the questions she needed him to answer. She would surely gain courage to ask them sometime. With a sigh, she took a stepladder from the pantry, and returned to her mother’s room. Stepping on the ladder, and with several forceful jerks, she pulled the curtains until she’d unhooked the old, iron rod from the wall. Next, she collected the fallen material and placed it in a box. Soon after, she focused on the bed and with one pull, she yanked the bedspread and top sheet off, then removed the fitted sheet and pillowcases. As she cleared away the last pillowcase, something red caught her eye. Depositing the sheets and bedspread into the laundry basket, Ashley then returned to the bed, feeling the red, hard edge she’d noticed under the mattress. With both hands she grasped the item, and with one great tug, an old, dusty red book appeared in her hands. Sweeping her fingers across the hard front revealed an imprint of a Christmas tree. Slowly, she opened the notebook, revealing well-worn, dingy paper. Faded, blue ink covered each delicate page, revealing her mother’s elegant handwriting. Her eyes focused on the text, across the header of the first page. December 1, 2004. Exactly twenty-four days later, her mother died. Could she read her mother’s personal thoughts? Tears welled in her eyes as she pulled the journal close to her chest. Would she find the answers she’d always yearned to know? Could she invade her mother’s privacy? Or was this her mother’s way of communicating with her? December first, she read…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ashley wondered long and hard on what she’d discover when she returned to her childhood home in the mountains of eastern Tennessee. It’d been ten years since she’d laid eyes on her father. He’d sent her to live with her well-to-do great aunt at the age of eight. She’d spent most of the years in boarding schools, learning to become a “proper lady” with training in etiquette, as well as dance, tennis, and horseback lessons. Now, she’d finished school, turned eighteen, and was no longer under the thumb of her Aunt Carol.

  What she’d find when she returned home remained uncertain. Her father had cut off communication with her, and her aunt’s only explanation was to tell her it would be better if she forgot about him. How could she possibly forget about the only parent she had left?

  The road was still unpaved, and she drove through the bumpy, winding path to the small, log-frame home. Unclipped branches dangled over her car as she slowly maneuvered the long road. Lights appeared in the distance. Surely, her father hadn’t kept the house adorned in the same Christmas decorations all this time. The car crept along to the front of the run-down home. Stopping the car, she took in the sight of the cabin and yard. Weathered Christmas decorations that had once been hung yearly were in disarray, lights missing or burned out, appearing untouched since she’d left home. Pausing, she wondered why her father hadn’t kept up the lawn, or for that matter, the log cabin. He’d always taken pride in his home and grounds before. But she’d not seen or heard from her dad in ten years, aside from birthday and Christmas cards containing a bit of cash. Who knew what kind of man he was now? Exiting her car, she walked up to the small cabin her parents used as their personal home, and climbed the rickety stairs to the front porch. She reached for the doorknob, only to realize she was a practical stranger now, and she should knock instead. Doing so, she received no response. She walked over to the window and looked inside. Empty dishes were scattered on the table. His truck was in the driveway, so her dad had to be somewhere around. The logical place was the lodge, located a half a mile up the road.

  Ashley grabbed the backpack from her car. Picking up a long branch, she broke off the excess twigs until she had a nice straight walking stick. Slowly, she started up the trail she’d traveled nearly every day as a child.

  She encountered an overgrown and untraveled trail as she headed to the lodge. Within minutes, she inhaled the aroma of honeysuckle as it blanketed the area. The sweet smell reminded her of the childhood years she spent playing in the woods. As the heat sweltered, she continued making her way through the thick brush, breaking any limbs she could along the way to clear the path. Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the lodge; ten minutes longer than the trail had typically taken her as a child. The overgrowth was clea
rly out of control, and Ashley decided that would be the first thing she tackled once she got settled. Slowly, she stepped to the porch, stopping only to look at the broken snowman sign that’d once welcomed visitors. With her hand on the doorknob and a slight hesitation, she opened the door.

  “Anyone here?” she yelled into the foyer. Silence followed. Ashley proceeded further into the large, log-frame room. The great room showcased the massive fireplace, which was the centerpiece where families once gathered. Now, it was dark and lifeless. Wood floors that shined when her mother was alive were dirty and dull. The open floor plan that had allowed everyone to see the cooking, dining, and great room from any direction now echoed the sound of Ashley’s shoes.

  “Dad, are you here? It’s Ashley.” Still no indication of his presence. Ashley walked further into the lodge and up the stairs. One after one, she opened each guest room, only to find the rooms untouched and unkempt—with the exception of one. Clothes were thrown on the dresser, bed unmade. Obviously, someone was occupying the room. Quickly, she retreated downstairs and left the lodge. Deciding it would be best to return home, she began her hike back through the woods. When the cabin was within visible distance, she paused, turning her attention to the old spring she used to play in as a child. Without a thought, she slipped off her shoes and waded in the spring. The cold water made her shiver as she walked across the smooth, round rocks that led practically to the backdoor of the cabin. Stepping out of the water, she put her shoes back on.

  With a pull of a handle, the old screen door opened with a squeak that would’ve alerted anyone around to the fact that someone was there. Slowly, Ashley entered into the kitchen.

  “Dad!” she called as she walked into the middle of the kitchen-dining room combo. No response.

  A quick glance around, and she spotted the dirty dishes left on the table and in the sink. Removing her watch, she began cleaning the kitchen, and then the living room. As she finished the last bit of cleanup, she heard the familiar squeak of the back screen door.

  “Dad!” she yelled again as she ran into the kitchen area. She jerked to a halt. “Who are you?”

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing,” the teenage boy replied as he obviously sized her up.

  “I asked you first.”

  “That you did. My name is Cyrus Bridges. Most people just call me Cy. Now, who are you, and what are you doing in here?”

  “I’m Ashley Malone. This is my house. My dad—”

  Cy interrupted, “James Malone, right?”

  “Yes. How do you know my dad?”

  “I do odds and ends for him, and he lets me stay at the lodge in return.”

  Right away, red flags went up in Ashley’s mind. She’d heard her aunt talk of the developers after her father’s prime land for years, and how he refused to use common sense and sell out. For all Ashley knew, this young man might be foe, not friend. Returning her focus to Cy, she asked, “How did you and my father meet?”

  “When I moved here a few years ago, I needed a job and a place to live. Reverend Clark recommended I see your dad. He offered me work for a couple of months, and I never left.”

  Still suspicious, she replied, “Reverend Clark? Um, where is my dad by the way?”

  “He went to the store to get some fish food for the pond. I know he’ll be tickled to see you. He talks about you all the time.”

  “But his truck is still out there.”

  “That old hunk of junk? Broke down years ago. He just keeps it around for parts.” He paused. “Anyway, I guess if you are okay, I’ll get back to earning my keep. It was nice to finally meet you, Ashley Malone.” He turned to leave.

  Feigning a smile, Ashley said a pleasant goodbye while plagued with the uneasy feeling that something was not right. The place looked quite run down for Cy to be working hard. But, it was summer and the thunderstorms did take their toll on the landscaping and homes. She sat down on the couch. The words Cy had said about her dad being happy to see her replayed in her mind. Who was Reverend Clark? She’d not known her dad to have any relationship with a preacher in the past. In fact, a lot of her parent’s disagreements centered on the fact that Dad wouldn’t attend church with Mom.

  With her stomach now growling, she returned to the kitchen to look for something to eat.

  The refrigerator was pretty much bare, so she looked through the pantry and found a can of tuna and a box of minute rice. Preparing the rice first, she quickly added the tuna and sat down at the table to eat. As she finished the thrown-together lunch, she heard the back screen door squeak again. Before she could stand, her father stood in front of her. Both gazed at one another, a father and daughter, strangers to one another.

  “Dad.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. James Malone stood there, unresponsive.

  Finally, he spoke. “What are you doing here?” he said in a gruff voice as he walked to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. “You’re supposed to be at college.”

  No hug. No happy smile.

  “Yes, well…I arrived a little while ago… I wanted to see you…I…” Ashley’s confident tone melted at the realization her father was not happy to see her. Her eyes stung as she fought back tears. Part of her wanted to scream and part of her wanted to hug him and never let go.

  He turned to face his daughter. “Did you get the birthday card I sent you?”

  “Yes.” She paused. “Um, thank you for the twenty dollars.”

  She didn’t mention that the amount was paltry—compared to the life her aunt provided her—because at least he’d sent what he could.

  He nodded. “Are you planning on staying or just visiting?”

  “I was planning on staying. If you don’t mind?”

  “What about college?”

  “It’s summer, remember? I was thinking I’d start next year, anyway.”

  He grunted. “You’re welcome as long as you like. But you might need to change out of those fancy shoes and clothes and put on some working clothes. You stay, you help. No loafing around here.”

  “Okay…” Did he think that was why she’d come? “What are we doing?”

  “Fixing up the lodge.”

  Her heart lifted a little. “You’re going to fix up the lodge?”

  “No, we’re going to fix the lodge up,” James replied as if they had had an ongoing relationship for the past ten years.

  No “I missed you” or “I’m glad your back.” Not one word was said about her absence. Ashley refocused her mind to the present. At least he wasn’t kicking her out.

  “Just give me a minute. I need to get my clothes.”

  Ashley retrieved her luggage from the car. While glancing around the yard, memories surfaced of being scooped up and placed in a black BMW. With tears streaming, she begged her dad not to send her away.

  I’ll be good, Daddy. Those were the last words she’d spoken to him. He’d offered no response, as if that didn’t matter. As if she didn’t matter.

  Yet, now he acted as if nothing had happened, and worse, she was going along with it. Should she confront him now and possibly risk alienating the father she’d so longed for? That’s why she’d come here, wasn’t it? No. She decided to wait and see what the next few days held.

  * * *

  Ashley joined her dad in the kitchen after changing into old designer jeans, T-shirt, and expensive boots. James looked at Ashley. “Nice clothes.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment,” James mumbled in a blunt voice.

  “These are the oldest clothes I have. Just show me what to do.” Unsure of what “work” her dad wanted from her, she determined to do anything that would help repair the relationship between the two. Loaf about? Not her. She’d prove herself not lazy. She’d prove herself a worthwhile daughter. She quickly followed him back through the woods to the lodge. She heard a chainsaw in the distance. “Sounds like Cy is working on clearing some of those dead trees. You can meet him later. I hired him to help with some of the work.�
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  “We met briefly when I first arrived.”

  Within twenty minutes, the two stood at the stairs leading to the lodge.

  James clasped his hammer. “I’m going to start replacing some boards on the porch. You may want to go ahead and get to cleaning. I left some new cleaning supplies in the bathroom cabinet.”

  Without a word, Ashley went inside. As she’d noticed before, the dust was thick on the furniture. The kitchen was also untouched. If Cy lived here, he certainly didn’t spend any time in the living quarters. Starting in the kitchen, she opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out her mother’s old cleaning supplies. They’d clearly been untouched since she’d died. She mulled over the furniture polish, glass cleaner and bathroom disinfectant in the cleaning basket. All were at least ten years old and most had gone bad. With hesitation, she dumped all of her mother’s old supplies into the garbage, feeling guilty, as if she were throwing precious items away. With the new supplies gathered from the bathroom, Ashley tackled the kitchen, cleaning out every cabinet, and throwing away old canned goods that had expired. Thanks goodness, she thought when she realized the dishwasher still worked. Ashley loaded every dish she could into the dishwasher so they could wash while she continued cleaning the refrigerator.

  Two hours later, her dad stuck his head into kitchen. “About finished?”

  “With the kitchen only. It hasn’t been cleaned since—” She stopped.

  They both knew. No need to voice the painful truth out loud. Oh, how she still missed her mother. “I’ll just be a little longer. I want to finish what I’ve started today.”

  * * *

  She was the answer to a prayer come true.

  After staring at his daughter several minutes, James Malone stepped onto porch and closed the door quietly behind him.

  He didn’t know how to interact with her. He’d put her to work because he didn’t know what else to do with her, and getting all sentimental wasn’t his thing.

  Lord, thank You.

  Essentially, when his wife died, he died too. He’d become a recluse. The only precious thing he had left was sent to relatives, so she could have a better life. Guilt had consumed him to the point where he quit living. He didn’t even remember the day Ashley was taken away. He had been an empty shell just existing. But a few months ago, after an encounter with God, he felt his soul come back to life.