When Kevin got back to Dad’s house, he didn’t even remember the drive. He’d been so lost in all that had just happened that he couldn’t say whether he’d driven the speed limit, or even stopped at any of the stop signs. Good thing the sheriff and his deputies were all working the festival tonight.
He got out of his truck and slammed the door. The sound echoed through the empty night. He went into the apartment in the barn and grabbed up his clothes and stuffed them back into his duffle bag, then carried it out to the truck.
He wished he’d left when he’d set out to over a week ago. He could have avoided all of this.
As painful as the stings from a swarm of wasps, the rejection hurt at first, but now all he felt was numb. And stupid. Stupid to have thought she’d stay. She’d been upfront with him about how she liked going from town to town wherever her job took her. Why had he expected anything else?
He was thankful that he and Dad had made some positive strides. Hopefully, Dad would have a better Christmas this year. It had always been such a difficult time for them.
He loaded his duffle bag into the bed of his truck. Allie’s truck pulled in front of the Christmas tree shed. He hoped she was here to pick up a tree and not to talk to him. He moved on about his business, hoping she wouldn’t notice him.
He tied a wide red velvet ribbon around the typewriter, the old Underwood now restored, then carried it to the truck. He nearly stumbled when he saw Lisa get out of the truck and start walking through the snow toward him.
What could she possibly want?
She stopped a good twenty feet away from him. She didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You were just going to leave and not say goodbye?”
He stood there holding the heavy typewriter. “I was going to drop off a note.”
“Typed?”
“Actually? Yeah.” He set the typewriter on the tailgate. “I had it fixed for Dad for Christmas.”
“Oh. So the H and the J keys are working.”
“Yeah.” There was still fifteen feet between them.
“Yeah.”
Lisa pointed to the door of Kevin’s truck. “K. Henry Miller. KHM.”
“Yep.”
“Kevin, why did you let me think that was your letter? And not tell me it was your dad’s?”
“When I saw the letter, I knew exactly the year that he wrote it. I remember when he dropped it off at Daisy’s.” It had all come back so fast. He hadn’t even had to think about it. “I didn’t know what to ask for in a letter to Santa back then. Everything without my mom felt…different. But I didn’t want to disappoint my dad so when he said he was going to take me up to Daisy’s to drop off my letter to Santa, I went with an empty envelope.”
She walked closer.
“I remember showing him the empty envelope with ‘To Santa’ written in blue crayon across the front. I dropped the envelope in the slot on top of the mailbox and pretended to be excited. I was so sad. I tried to be brave for Dad, but I was distraught. I watched Daisy help a little girl into a big red car with her mom and dad. She looked sad too.” He looked away for a moment. “I remember thinking I wished I could have my mom and dad both again.”
Her eyes glistened. “Kevin. I’m so sorry.”
“And then I went over to look at the toys, but out of the corner of my eye I saw my dad put a letter in the mailbox. I never knew what it said. Until now.” He shook his head. “Not until you gave me that letter. It answered so many questions for me. My dad was so quiet after Mom died, and I was so sad. I never saw him cry. I often wondered if he felt anything. If he missed her at all.”
Kevin and Lisa looked at each other, standing there under the dark sky and bright stars.
Lisa’s expression softened. “I remember you that night.”
“Do you think we were there at the same time? I’ve been wondering this whole time if that little girl was you.”
“It seems impossible, but I’ve wondered that too. That night I was wishing I could stay, but I’m still confused,” Lisa said. “So you did all this with the store and the festival because of the letter?”
“No. I did all of this because of you.” His voice was full of pain. “You swept in here and for the first time in a long, long while, I’d gotten back a piece of what Christmas used to be.”
Lisa’s heart seemed to flood, lifting the darkness that had settled there on the drive over.
“When I read that letter, and realized it was from my dad, that was even more reason, but it was you all along. That letter seemed like proof that I was doing the right thing. On the right path.”
Henry walked out from the corner of the building. “This was all your doing, son?”
Kevin turned to face his dad. “Dad?”
He walked over to them, stopping by the truck to look at the typewriter. “I wrote that letter twenty-five years ago. When the townspeople…they brought your mother back in a way by carrying on her traditions…preparing the candlelight procession and the choir.”
“I just wanted you to have what you asked for in the letter.” Kevin stepped up to his father. Tears choked him. He hadn’t felt this close to his father since his mother had died.
Henry pulled him into a tight hug. “You did, son.” A tear ran down Henry’s cheek as they hugged for a long moment. He released him from the embrace and patted his shoulder. “You did,” he repeated, looking Kevin right in the eye. Then he patted him on the back and turned to Lisa. “You both did.”
Lisa was crying, too. She ran to Henry.
“Thank you,” Henry said. “You’re the best part about this Christmas. You brought a lot of joy to a lot of people.”
“Thank you.” Lisa hugged him and then stepped back, looking toward the heavens just as snowflakes began to fall. She instinctively held out her hands to catch them.
Back in town, at that moment, Hannah and David stood in the basement of the Evergreen Church where the mechanism for the church bells was housed. With a whole new lens on things, they looked for a slot where the key might fit. It wasn’t easy. The mechanism was a maze of cogs and wheels.
Finally, at the same time, they spotted it.
There on the side of the metal housing was a simple keyhole. It wasn’t labeled. It wasn’t anything special at all, but the big slot was about the size and shape of that special key.
David raised the key in anticipation and Hannah hurried him along. They raced closer and David slid the key into the slot. It fit easily.
He glanced at Hannah and she nodded, encouraging him to turn the key.
David closed his eyes, held his breath and with all of his strength he turned the key one strong half turn. The cogs clunked as they made a single turn. The thick ropes slightly shimmied in front of them.
Hannah and David stared at each other.
She reached over and tugged on the rope. The rope pulled freely, sending one clapper against a bell at the top of the tower. Bong.
They both gasped as the sound echoed around them. Their hands flew to their ears as that single tone continued to reverberate.
Hannah and David looked up into the bell tower in awe.
“It worked, Hannah!”
It was 11:59. One minute before Christmas, and Hannah and David had no idea what was getting ready to happen.
When the big hand jumped straight up to the twelve with a click, the ropes began to move up and down in a slow rhythmic motion.
Not just one bell, but each of the seven bells rang out. The four stationary ones and the three that swung independently sent a beautiful vibrating noise out to the world—so loud that it tickled their teeth and throbbed in their ears.
They both clapped their hands over their ears.
“We figured it out!” They jumped up and down in delight, nearly disoriented by the striking harmonic tones of the bells.
Hannah grabbed David’s hand and ran outside.