Holiday Wishes Read Free

yard was already covered with bright red ribbons. She’d been kind to him. Jason hadn’t forgotten how she had fixed hot chocolate and listened to him for hours when he’d told her of the travels he wanted to make, the places he dreamed of seeing. She’d been in her seventies when he’d left, but of tough New England stock. He thought he might still find her in her kitchen, patiently fueling the wood stove and listening to her Rachmaninoff.
    The streets of the town were clear and tidy. New Englanders were a practical lot, and, Jason thought, as sturdy as the bedrock they’d planted themselves on. The town had not changed as he’d anticipated. Railings Hardware still sat on the corner off Main, and the post office still occupied a brick building no bigger than a garage. The same red garland was strung from lamppost to lamppost as it had been all through his youth during each holiday season. Children were building a snowman in front of the Litner place. But whose children? Jason wondered. He scanned the red mufflers and bright boots, knowing any of them might be Faith’s. The fury came back and he looked away.
    The sign on the Valley Inn had been repainted, but nothing else about the three-story square stone building was different. The walkway had been scraped clean and smoke billowed out of both chimneys. He found himself driving beyond it. There was something else to do first, something he’d already known he would have to do. He could have turned at the corner, driven a block and seen the house where he grew up. But he didn’t.
    Near the end of Main would be a tidy white house, bigger than most of the others, with two big bay windows and a wide front porch. Tom Monroe had brought his bride there. A reporter of Jason’s caliber knew how to ferret out such information. Perhaps Faith had put up the lace curtains she’d always wanted at the windows. Tom would have bought her the pretty china tea sets she’d longed for. He’d have given her exactly what she’d wanted. Jason would have given her a suitcase and a motel room in countless cities. She’d made her choice.
    After ten years he discovered it was no easier to accept. Still, he forced himself to be calm as he pulled up to the curb. He and Faith had been friends once, lovers briefly. He’d had other lovers since, and she had a husband. But he could still remember her as she’d looked at eighteen, lovely, soft, eager. She had wanted to go with him, but he wouldn’t let her. She had promised to wait, but she hadn’t. He took a deep breath as he climbed from the car.
    The house was lovely. In the big bay window that faced the street was a Christmas tree, cluttered and green in the daylight. At night it would glitter like magic. He could be sure of it because Faith had always believed so strongly in magic.
    Standing on the sidewalk, he found himself dealing with fear. He’d covered wars and interviewed terrorists but he’d never felt the stomach-churning fear that he did now, standing on a narrow snow-brushed sidewalk facing a pristine white house with holly bushes by the door. He could turn around, he reminded himself. Drive back to the inn or simply out of town again. There was no need to see her again. She was out of his life. Then he saw the lace curtains at the window and the old resentment stirred, every bit as strong as fear.
    As he started down the walk, a girl raced around the side of the house just ahead of a well-aimed snowball. She dived, rolled and evaded. In an instant, she was up again and hurling one of her own.
    â€œBull’s-eye, Jimmy Harding!” With a whoop, she turned to run and barreled into Jason. “Sorry.” With snow covering her from head to foot, she looked up and grinned. Jason felt the world spin backward.
    She was the image of her mother. The sable hair peeked out of her cap and fell untidily to her shoulders. The small, triangular face was