Memory Tree by Joseph Pittman

packed up the rest of her stuff and headed outside and into the Knights’ SUV. A few raindrops were beginning to fall on them. As they made their way down the dark driveway and onto Crestview Road, the headlights hit the F OR S ALE sign one last time, like a tease at Janey. The young girl said nothing, though, and soon they were pulling into the gravelly drive of the Sullivan farmhouse, where they found Brian sitting on the front step. A lone light shone down from under the porch, illuminating him in the newly falling rain. In his hands he was holding a box, wrapped in shiny blue paper with a silver ribbon around it.
    â€œHi, Dad . . . Hey, what’s that? A Christmas present?”
    He looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and guilt. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
    â€œYou don’t know?”
    â€œWell, yes, it’s a gift. I’m just not sure from whom.”
    â€œBrian, what’s going on?” Cynthia asked.
    â€œIt’s the strangest thing,” he said, rising from the porch, still examining the package. “I found this waiting for me on the porch when I got home a few minutes ago. With the same message as before, ‘Do Not Open Until Christmas.’ But there’s no clue who sent it, or why.”
    â€œWhat do you mean the same as before?” Janey asked.
    Brian looked at them both and said, “Seems someone’s playing Secret Santa with me. I received a similarly wrapped gift last week, found on the porch of the tavern. I put it in the closet inside the windmill and honestly forgot about it . . . until now. Until this.”
    â€œThat’s very strange,” Janey said.
    â€œSomeone has a secret admirer,” Cynthia added with a hint of a smile. “Are you going to do as asked? Wait until Christmas? I don’t think I could stand the suspense.”
    â€œMe too. I’m curious,” Janey said.
    â€œWe’ll just have to wait,” Brian said. “And see if there are any more to come.”
    â€œI like this game,” Janey suddenly decided. “Maybe we should all do it.”
    Brian laughed, rubbing the top of her head. “Let’s go, young lady. Christmas dreams will have to wait. For now it’s bedtime.”
    Janey had always been agreeable about knowing when it was time to let the day end, so she started to make her way inside, but she turned back. “Dad, you’re not going to put that gift in the windmill now, are you?”
    â€œI wasn’t planning on it,” he said.
    â€œGood, I don’t want you to leave me.”
    With that, she headed inside, her footsteps on the staircase to the second level echoing in the silence she’d left behind. Brian turned back to Cynthia, a stunned expression on his face.
    â€œWhat was that all about?”
    Cynthia felt a knob of emotion constrict her throat. “I think that’s my fault.”
    All that people did was leave Janey—parents, loved ones, and those whom she had known her entire life. Now Cynthia was added to that list, and she gave Brian a quick recap of the day’s events before telling him they’d talk soon. She then drove back to her own home just as the sky opened up and the rain began to fall in earnest. Her house looked empty against the dark sky, a place she’d known for years, a place that in two months would exist only in her memories. Change was coming, but for just one night, she wanted a normal life. She made her way upstairs, where a lone light shone in the bedroom and where Bradley was propped up against a pillow, glasses on, a book resting against his bare chest. Quickly slipping into her nightgown, she slid under the covers, snuggling in close to her husband.
    â€œYou okay?” he asked.
    She didn’t meet his eye and instead stared out the window as the rain beat heavily against the shutters in need of repair. They weren’t the only things, she thought, her heart wounded by the idea of change.