“Janey, it's true that I had hoped to marry Lucyâbut I was very young then and so what did I really know about love? My life hadn't really taken shape. I needed to discover myself and my world, a life beyond Lucy. So with John's help I moved to New York and eventually I met Maddie. At that time in my life, Maddie and I wanted the same thing and we thought we could find it together. We had a plan. But as you get older, you realize what might have once been important no longer is. What matters most are the people in your life, not your achievements. When I left New York, my life changed again, and I found myself looking for that something special; maybe that someone special. Maybe even beyond specialâsomeone so great and so wonderful that I'm not even sure there's a word to describe them. With Annieâyour mommaâI thought I had found that person. But really, who I had found was you. Janey, that day at the windmill, I count it as one of the luckiest days of my life. It changed my life. You changed my lifeâfor the better, and for always.” I paused in an effort to collect my thoughts, wondering if this hidden insecurity of hers had led her to hide my ornament. Was it really that simple? “Janey, do you know why I took you to my parents' house for Thanksgiving ? And why I took you to New York to see the tree?”
“Because you miss your home.”
“Definitely not. No, sweetie, I took you there because I wanted to show you who I was before I came to live in Linden Corners,” I said. “To share a part of my life with you. So you could know me better.”
By this time my confession had her crying and the distance between us be damned, I went to her side and I held her and she held me, her sobs muffled because she was pressing so tight against me. I soothed her soul, I smoothed her hair, and I kissed the top of her head, and I assured her that everything was okay, rocking her, rocking her, never wanting to let her go. Still, I was searching inside me for one last piece of inspiration, solid proof that could finally settle Janey's tender fears. Surrounded by Annie's things, her paintings and her easel and her brushes, the very essence of her soul, I realized exactly what I needed to do.
As her tears subsided, I said to her, “Janey, do you remember your momma talking about a special place of hers?”
She nodded, sniffling at the same time. “Right here, Brian, the windmill.”
“Well, yes, that's right, she always had the windmill. Except, I mean, the place she found before she became known as the woman who loved the windmill. Before she had even met your father.”
Janey was thinking hard. Suddenly she got up from the floor and wandered over to Annie's drawer full of paintings. She started flipping through them one by one until she came to the particular one she was clearly looking for. Proudly she displayed a beautifully rendered painting of lush colors as vibrant as Janey's dancing eyes. It had been drawn from atop a hill, an illustration showing the mighty Hudson River and its environs, the lovely sky that hovered above it, the billowy green landscape that encased it.
“Momma liked the river, it's where she went to think.”
“That's right. How would you like to go there now?”
“But Brian, I don't know where it is. Momma never took me. She told me once that she never took anyone there. Besides, only she could ever find it.”
“That's where you're wrong, Janey, because she took me there once, and it was a very special moment for us,” I said. “And todayâChristmas EveâI'm going to take you. You can be even closer to your momma, how's that for a gift?”
Janey's sparkling eyes were alive with sudden wonder and delight, brighter now than any collection of lights could power, even those that cradled the windmill itself. And what were those eyes saying to me? That there were discoveries yet to be made, gifts still to come.
C
HAPTER
26
Four o'clock in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, nightfall would soon settle over Linden Corners. Snow was continuing to float down from the sky in an endless flow of white confetti, and from what the weather reports indicated, it would most assuredly be a snowy white Christmas. In the past hour alone, while Janey and I had talked and talked inside the windmill, an inch of fresh powder had accumulated on the roads, making conditions less than ideal for driving. I had almost considered not going, but this was too important. If Annie had taught me anything, risk took second place to love. I'd assured Janey that she could visit Annie's Bluffâas I had dubbed it this past summer, the precursor to her naming my own Brian's Bluffâand nothing would stop me. Not rain nor sleet nor . . .
Janey and I had bundled up against the elements, and then hopped into the car. One last trip awaited us before the holiday could truly commence.
“Brian, are you sure you know how to get to Momma's special place?”
“Yes,” I said, though in this wintery mix maybe I wasn't 100 percent positive. It had been a warm summer's day when Annie and I had gone there, a picnic in the trunk, romance on our minds. I would have to trust my instincts and listen to the wind.
Annie's Bluff was located atop a high hill that provided magnificent vistas of the Hudson River and the surrounding valley. For some people, this place was just one of many views of the river, offering up nothing particularly thrilling. There were many such views along the expansive waterway. For Annie, though, it had held such significance because it was where she had found direction in her own life, the place she'd come to for answers when things weren't going her way. And it was also a place she had shared with only one other personâme, done so at a time when neither of us knew what we would eventually mean to the other. Time had come to pass this secret on to the next generation.
So I parked the car at the base of the hill, just off the side of the road. Then, I took hold of Janey's mittened hand and helped guide her up a snow-covered path. At some places the drifts were nearly as tall as she, and I lifted her over them as though we were playing a game. I heard her familiar giggle and knew instantly this was the right thing to do. I had my Janey back.
We emerged from a thick cluster of trees into a snowy clearing. Where once upon a time sunshine had dappled down on a pair of picnickers, today only the wind and snow welcomed this intrepid duo. But the wind powered the windmill and the great mill was our friend, and so there was nothing to fear from the whistling winds that, up on the hill, were strong enough to knock over a tiny girl. I held tight to her as she gazed out at the sight before her.
Below us wound the grand waters of the Hudson River, ice floes making their way down the river, crashing against its banks. A lone barge trudged through in the wintry storm, a light guiding its way along the dark waters. We waved to the passing boat, doubting we could be seen from this high above. But an echoing sound shook the sky as the captain sounded his hornâa lonely foghorn that rippled across the wind, calling to us. Janey waved again as she went dashing along the bluff, dancing atop a large rock that sprouted up from the ground. I held her hand again, careful of the ice that coated the slippery stone.
“Oh, Brian, it's so pretty up here, I feel like I'm on top of the world. That's why Momma loved it so, isn't it?” Janey asked, her eyes on fire, marveling at the sight before her. “I bet on some nights you can see the moon, practically even touch it. That would be my wish. Because that's where Momma is, close to the moon and the heavens.”
“That's a nice wish, Janey,” I said. “Always remember to express your wishes because I know they can come true.”
As she gazed down at me from her perch on the rock, I expected to see a joyful child at my side. Instead I saw the worry return to her face, wrinkles crinkling her freckled nose.
“What's wrong, sweetie?”
“I'm sorry, Brian.”
I lifted her off the rock, returning her to solid ground. I bent down and hugged her tight. “There's nothing to apologize for, Janey. But I do want you to remember that whenever anything is troubling you, you have to tell me. Never be afraid to tell me anything. I made a promise to your momma that I would always be there for you, and that's true every day, every minute. When you're happy and when you're sad, when you're sick or when you just want to sit quietly by yourself. All you have to do is tell me how you're feeling. Maybe what I need to do is make you that same promise. And there's no better place to make that promise than here upon Annie's Bluff, with a big open sky before us so your momma can look down and listen and see the magic that she created.”
And, amidst the drifting snowflakes and cool night wind, that's exactly what I did. Warmth spread directly from her wide smile to my aching heart, winter and its chill having absolutely no effect on us.
“So,” I said, “I think Christmas is coming. We have much to celebrate.”
She paused. “Brian, can I tell you something?”
“Of course you can.”
“Am I too young to babysit?”
My face must have showed my confusion. “Yes, I think so.”
“Oh,” she said, her face crumpling at the disappointment.
“You want to tell me whose baby you'll be sitting?”
“I can't, not yet.”
“Why is that?”
She grinned and giggled like a girl who had unwrapped one of her Christmas gifts too early. “Because I'm not supposed to know.”
C
HAPTER
27
With the snow continuing to swirl and the wind picking up, the ride home turned treacherous, mostly because the plows hadn't come by and the roads were growing slick with ice. Maybe the snow was falling too fast for the plows to keep up, or maybe this was the way Christmas was supposed to look in Linden Corners. It was nearly six o'clock when we arrived at the farmhouse, just enough time to spare for us to grab a quick meal and get changed before attending the children's vigil mass at St. Matthew's. I sent Janey to put on her prettiest dress of crushed red velvet, while I went to put on a suit. After tying the tie, I knocked on her door and asked if she needed help.
“Maybe with the bow I want to wear in my hair,” she said from behind the closed door. “I'll come down in a moment.”
I checked my watch, saw that it was six twenty. “Let's go, let's go.”
Back downstairs, I retrieved the gift I'd purchased for placement under the St. Matthew's Christmas tree and went outside to put it in the backseat of the car. Didn't want to forget that. When I got back inside the house, Janey was standing beside the tree, looking positively aglow in that velvety red dress. She shimmered against the burst of colorful lights. There was only one thing wrong with this picture, her quivering lips. Fear once again stabbed at my heart.
“Hey, what's wrong, sweetie?” I asked.
“I'm sorry, Brian,” Janey said, practically crying now as she withdrew from behind her back the box that had once contained my family Christmas ornament. “I'm so, so sorry,” she repeated and then she broke down into great heaving sobs that sent her little body shaking. My God, the fear she must have been holding inside her. Forgetting about the box, I took Janey into my arms and held her, comforted her and soothed her, wishing there were magical words that could wipe away the hurt that lay before us.
“It's okay, Janey, I'm not mad . . . I could never be mad at you,” I said.
She was still sobbing, and I grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes.
“Why, Janey, why did you hide it from me?”
She was still weeping but she was trying to talk, too. “I . . . I didn't, Brian, I didn't even know where it was . . . not until yesterday. Junior found the box under my bed when we were playing hide-and-seek in my room this morning. But the box was empty, Brian, I swear. The ornament was gone, but I never took it, honestly. I know it means so much to you, so I had to figure out what did happen to it. It couldn't have just disappeared on its own.”
Her words struck deep at my heart, so much so I felt it bleed. All these weeks I'd been consumed with why Janey had taken it and why she wouldn't confess to hiding the ornament, and now I was faced with the undeniable truth: she wasn't responsible for its disappearance. She never even knew it was gone. My God, how could I have thought Janey would do such a thing? How easily I had assigned blame and then not done anything about it. Trust was a delicate bond, any wavering of it could bring disaster, suspicion . . . guilt ate at me. As I readied to listen to Janey's explanation, a sudden sadness gripped at me. She couldn't be so upset for having found just the empty box; she must have found the ornament as well. Which meant there was another problemâand I sensed that I wasn't going to like what it was. I opened the lid of the box. And that's when I saw the beautiful blue glass ball in pieces, shards as shiny as ever, like thousands of shattered stars fallen from the sky.
“Ashley took it, Brian. That first day I showed it to her, I told her I was jealous that you had such a pretty ornament and I didn't. When I told her everyone in your family had one, she said that just meant I wasn't part of your family. So she took itâshe said she was just trying to be my friend. When Junior found the box, I knew Ashley had to have it. And I also knew I had to get it back, so I went running off from Cynthia's and went to Ashley's house and took it back. That's why I was gone.”
“So Ashley broke it?” I asked. No wonder that kid had been sticking her tongue out at me, she'd manipulated Janey into thinking she and I weren't family. Heck of a way to be a friend.
“No, Brian, it wasn't Ashley . . .”
“Then who?”
“Me. Oh, Brian, I broke your ornament. On the way home, Brian, oh, Brian, I dropped it.”
She began to cry again. Quickly I set the box down and I took Janey into my arms once more, trying to assuage her fears and her guilt. How horrible she must have felt. “Oh, Janey, it's just a trinket, it's not important. It's just something to put on the tree, to see once a year. Just . . . just something from my past. You know you're who really matters, okay, sweetie? Sure, I'm upset that it's broken, but I don't blame you. How could I?”
“Brian, will you tell me about the ornament sometime? Junior told me a little about your brother, Philip, but I don't know what he has to do with your ornament. I want to know about your Christmases past, about your traditions. Will you tell me about Philip?”
I nodded, a wistful smile developing on my face as I wiped away my own tears. “Sure,” I said. “When the time is right. But right now, we've got to get to church, okay? Father Burton will be very disappointed not to see you in the children's pageant.”
A hint of color had returned to her cheek.
“Brian, are you mad at me?”
“No, Janey, I told you I could never be mad at you, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart,” I said. We'd endured enough emotional strife for one day. “I'm sorry for all that's happened, Janey, between us. I guess the holidays can be pretty stressful, right?”
“I'm exhausted,” she said, her body letting out a heavy sigh.
Her use of a big word actually had me laughing aloud. “So, what do you say, can we call it even, start fresh? We'll go to church, then we'll come home and begin our Christmas.”
“So you're not going anywhere?”
“The only place I'm going is anyplace you're going,” I said.
She scrunched her red nose at me. “Everyone calls you Brian Duncan Just Passing Through,” she said.
“It's just a silly nickname,” I said. “But how about we create a new one, huh? I'm Brian Duncan, Right Where I Belong.”
“I like that one,” she announced.
Okay, it was time to get ourselves to church before they started without us. She handed me the red bow and I affixed it to her hair and then pronounced her perfect. “Absolutely perfect.” She giggled, and I finally felt like she was once again the Janey who had saved my life.
“Come on, then, we can't be late for Christmas, right?”
“Nope,” she said.
As we headed back out into the snow and into the cold, starry night, I found myself smiling. Anticipation ran through me. For the first time in weeks, I was actually looking forward to our first celebration together. As the wind swept past us, I just knew there were still some surprises left in this holiday.