A Christmas Hope Read Free Page B

curves. So then why was she the one on the open road, heading into the tiny downtown of a village whose future best existed in a rearview mirror?
    Not that the village was all that empty at four o’clock in the afternoon. She recognized several stores like Marla and Darla’s Trading Post—twins she’d gone to school with, inseparable then, business partners now, sisters forever—and guarding the storefront, under the porch and seemingly oblivious to the snow, were two golden retrievers who lay quietly, sleeping the afternoon away in that lazy, entwined way shared only by our canine friends. Of course, too, there was the Five O’Clock Diner, run by the sharp-tongued, quick-witted Martha Martinson, plus the reliable Ackroyd’s Hardware Emporium and George’s Tavern, which she had known her entire life as Connors’ Corners. It was where her father had happily toiled for much of his adult life. She’d heard about the renaming in e-mails and phone calls and how that wonderful Brian Duncan continued to honor George Connors’s traditions and she’d seen pictures of the new sign, but the sight of it now made her heart ache for the loss of her father, for her still-living mother who had to live with the daily memories of her late husband.
    But the store that most caught Nora’s attention was darkened, a C LOSED sign posted on the locked front door. The building was in need of a paint job, flakes peeling off its sides. Elsie’s Antiques it was called and had been for the better part of her life. But that was about to change.
    Even in Linden Corners, change occasionally happened.
    â€œHey, Mom?”
    â€œYeah, baby?” Nora said, her eyes drifting away from Elsie’s shop with reluctance.
    â€œYou know what today is?”
    â€œIt’s Thursday, I think. Wait, what day did we leave . . . ?”
    â€œNo, not day. Today. It’s Halloween.”
    Nora looked out her driver’s side window and wondered how she had missed them. Too focused on seeing the village her way, she failed to notice how her son’s eyes would view it. Seemed the sidewalks of the village were currently peopled with tiny ghosts and goblins, witches with straw brooms, vampires with fangs and tight abs, bums (though, truth be known, that last one might have not been a disguise), all of them carrying orange plastic pumpkins, winter coats unfortunately partly covering their clever costumes. Adults accompanied them to ensure nothing untoward happened to their ghoulish charges, or that they got too cold while out trick-or-treating. The allure of Halloween had lost its appeal years ago, just another foolish pseudo-holiday. She remembered dressing up as a ballerina when she was a kid; but heck, it’s not like she played the part of a ballerina. People today, they tended to embody their costume rather than just simply wear it. As though everyone was starring in their own movie, stopping at makeup before stepping before the camera. While Nora may not like it, Travis always enjoyed planning his costume.
    â€œSorry. You were gonna be Batman this year, right?”
    â€œNah. Robin.”
    â€œHow can you have Robin without Batman?”
    â€œDad was going to play Batman.”
    Well, that comment shut her up but good. And she felt worse than before, a sharp pain stabbing at her empty gut. Not only was Travis missing out on one of his favorite holidays, but he was missing it along with his father. She hated disappointing her only child—taking him from his home and school and friends, all he’d ever known, to return to . . . here. She looked again at the kids dressed in costume, one in particular covered in a white sheet with two eyelets. Ghosts indeed, they were all around, and not just on the sidewalks, but in the trunk of her car and inside her mind. Oh yes, those phantoms never left, did they? They never needed the arrival of a single day of celebration to come out and