A Christmas Hope Read Free Page A

also a sense of claustrophobia about the town, too, or so thought the worldly Nora, who had traveled the globe and seen many beautiful sights, now seeing the world spit her out from whence she originated. Just when she needed her street smarts the most, home was calling, the comfort and security and understanding that you could only find inside the walls of your parents’ house, now just a mile away and creeping ever closer. No doubt a couple pieces of her mother’s famed strawberry pie awaited them both. With the windmill now fading to small in her rearview mirror, Nora felt her heart beating with nervous anticipation. Home meant many things to many people, but at this moment Nora needed its sense of reassurance. Knowing those old walls came complete with a supportive mother to hold you tight and tell you everything was going to be just fine, her mind told her maybe all would be okay.
    But then she knew it wouldn’t be, not initially.
    Her homecoming would no doubt be seen as an occasion for her mother. So she had to assume the house would not be empty, since the sweet-natured Gerta Connors enjoyed having company. And said company would ask questions, and said company would expect answers. Suddenly Nora saw a houseful of guests, all of them stuffing their faces with pie, their smiles sweeter than sugar, but digesting gossip at her expense.
    â€œPlease, do me this one favor and don’t let her have anyone over, I can’t deal with . . . this, not now,” Nora said aloud. “Don’t let her think my homecoming is a celebration.”
    â€œUh, Mom, are you talking to me?”
    â€œSorry, honey, Mom’s weirding out.”
    â€œNo kidding.”
    Her son’s sarcasm, which had been coming on strong in the past six months, actually produced a rare smile on her tight face. Normally she’d reprimand him for his tone, but not today. He’d earned the right to vent as much as she deserved its wrath, she’d turned his life upside down. Still, Nora knew her mother, just as much as she recognized the friendly confines of Linden Corners, both the good and the bad. Having grown up here, she was well acquainted with the village’s quirky tendency toward parties and parades, the happiest of holidays and heart-spun happenings, her mother, Gerta, oftentimes at the center of planning the numerous, joyous celebrations. Heck, it was only the end of October and the fallen snow already had a layer of ice beneath this fresh coating of snow, no doubt the residents had a name for such an occasion. “Second Snowfall” or something cheekily homespun like that. Winter in this region came early, stayed often, and you needed the patience of a saint and good driving skills to navigate its literal slippery slope. This year, Nora herself would be like the ever-present season, setting up roost for some time to come, though even she didn’t know for how long. She could one day decide to leave, then a storm inside her could erupt and she’d be trapped. Again. Nestled in the lush Hudson River Valley, cocooned from the outside world, she could easily lose herself.
    That part she liked.
    Of course cocooned was just a nice word for hiding.
    Nora Connors Rainer and her one son, Travis, had left the flatlands of Nebraska five days ago, enjoying the long drive and each other’s company, if not necessarily looking forward to their final destination. They could have easily flown to Albany, had the car shipped or just sold it and bought a new one when they arrived, but Nora wasn’t ready to sell off everything from her past life. Call her shallow, but she’d worked too hard to buy her sporty red Mustang. Too bad she hadn’t worked as hard at her marriage. But hey, a car allows you to just turn on the engine and steer it to where you wanted to go. A husband tended to have his own ignition, liked to drive by himself, go off on his own, embracing the unexpected surprises around winding