“No, I don’t think I did. Trying would have had us a lot more balanced—winters in the south, summers in the north? Every other month? Three or four days here, three or four days there? I think there are many options. As long as we both have the same goal. But first, the priority is getting through Christmas.”

“I’m sorry, but I just want Christmas behind me.”

“Don’t apologize, Kaylee. I understand. I do have one suggestion. Why don’t you try writing about it? Write the Christmas that would make you feel better.”

“That would involve impossible and magical things,” she said.

“Don’t rule it out,” he suggested. “Write it in.”

* * *

Kaylee wasn’t at all surprised that her thoughts were constantly tuned in to the loss of her mother and often to Mallory as well. She kept wondering how she was getting along. She’d heard from Mel that Mallory’s mother had passed away and while arrangements were being made, she was with the next-door neighbors—the family of her friend—who had taken her in. Mel hoped that would work out for another couple of weeks, at least through Christmas. But if there was a problem with that, Mel was going to find room for her with their family.

In the dark of night when she couldn’t sleep, lying in Landry’s strong, comforting arms, there were times Kaylee couldn’t hold back her tears. She tried to keep her crying silent, but he always knew and would pull her close and whisper soothing words. “It’s going to be all right.” She often thought that if she could have just five minutes with her mother, she could live on happily. She was astonished by how desperately she still missed her.

Then one night she was startled to wake up on the front porch. She was sitting on the porch swing and saw that someone had put a small Christmas tree in the corner of the porch. It had twinkling lights and silver ornaments. And there, leaning a hip on the porch rail, was Meredith. She wore her royal-blue robe, the one with the stiff, arched collar. It was such a beautiful robe, Kaylee had kept it.

“Mama,” she said in a breath. “Oh, Mama!” Even though she wanted to run to her and embrace her, she couldn’t seem to move.

“My darling girl,” Meredith said.

“You’re here!”

“Not entirely, but I did tell you I’d never be far away. I think we should talk.”

“Yes!” Kaylee said. “We should talk! Did you bring the tree?”

“It’s Christmastime,” she said. “You don’t have to bake a plum pudding or roast a goose, but the whole world is honoring Christmas. You remember what the spirit of Christmas does, don’t you, Kaylee? The least you can do is put out an ornament or two. It’s all right if it brings a little emotion to your day, but try to remember, it’s not all about you. And if you can’t bring yourself to celebrate Christmas, consider letting Christmas celebrate you. Think about the people you know who deserve some happiness. Have you done anything special for your boyfriend? He seems so loving and sweet.”

“He is,” she said. “Am I dreaming you?”

Meredith shrugged. “Are you cold?”

Kaylee looked around. There was snow on the porch and her feet were bare yet she was not at all cold. “Even if you’re only a dream, I’ll take it...”

“You’ve dreamed of me many times and usually it makes you happy. I know you feel cheated, Kaylee; I know you feel that you’re the only one who feels loss and sadness. And I know that you know that’s not true. I’m not suggesting you ignore your grief—grief is personal and runs on its own calendar. But remember. There are lots of people feeling lost and alone. It’s time for you to take stock of what you have, not of what you may have lost.”

“I can’t help it. I miss you so much.”

“I’m here. We may not get to talk too often, but you know where to find me. You know where I will live until we have each other again. Remember the spirit heals. Remember that the spirit of Christmas is about giving. Turn your heart to the needs of others—it will help you get through the days that seem too long and the nights that feel too lonely. You know what to do because you’ve done it before. And remember that I’m very proud of you. Of your strength and your resilience. I so love your abundant joy. If you need me, just whisper. I will hear you.”

“Please don’t go,” she said, tears gathering in her eyes.

“There are things you can do. Don’t forget all the things we talked about. There is an antidote to sadness—it is gratitude. There’s a great trick to escaping the pain of loss, and that is giving. You may still cry at 11:04 a.m. on Christmas Day. But then you should be grateful for all we had. We had so much. We were so rich, figuratively and literally. Accept the gifts that heal.”

“Stay!” she said. “Please! Just for a few more minutes!”

“I love you so much,” Meredith said.

“I love you more!” Kaylee said.

Suddenly she felt cold. Her feet were like ice, her hands were stiff and frozen. Even so, she didn’t move for a few minutes, willing her mother to come back. This was not like other dreams. This was so real.

“Kaylee?” Landry said, turning over and sitting up in bed. “What in God’s name...?”

She was in the bedroom, sitting on her heels in the bed, shivering and weeping. “She was here,” Kaylee whispered. “She was on the porch and she brought me a Christmas tree!”

Landry grabbed her hands and rubbed them. “Have you been outside? You’re freezing!”

She nodded. “She wanted to talk to me and while we talked I wasn’t cold. But then when she left I could hardly stand the cold. She was here. On the porch. I sat on the swing and we talked. I’ve dreamed of my mother a hundred times, but this time was different. This time it was so real. She reminded me of things we talked about. It wasn’t just her talking and me listening. We agreed on so many things. One of the things was that being kind was a sure cure for loneliness.”

He was rubbing her hands briskly. “Kaylee, how long have you been outside?” he asked.

“She brought me a tree,” she said. “It’s on the porch.”

He jumped out of bed. He wore only a T-shirt and boxers but he went to the porch and looked out. Then he closed the door and came back to the bed. “There’s no tree,” he said. “And there are no footprints. And there’s no impression in the snow from someone sitting on the swing.”

Her eyes grew round. “What?” she asked. Then she jumped up and ran to the front door. She looked out and saw for herself that there was no tree. And the snow hadn’t been disturbed on the swing or the porch rail. Then she started to cry in earnest.

Landry led her to the bed, got her under the covers and pulled her close, warming her with his body. “It’s all right, love. It was just a dream. Just a very nice dream.”

“It was so real,” she said. She turned her face into Landry’s chest and cried. But it wasn’t very long before she slept.

When she woke the sun was high in the sky; her bedroom was bright. Landry was not beside her. She grabbed her robe and went into the other room and he was sitting on the couch, having his coffee. He looked over the rim of his mug and smiled at her.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

She sat on the couch beside him. “You know how I slept,” she said. “You must think I’m a lunatic by now.”

“Go look on the porch,” he said, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

She got a wide-eyed and suspicious look and dashed to the front door. She opened the door and looked outside to see a very small decorated tree on the front porch, right in the corner where she’d dreamed it was the night before.

“Did you do that?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. And I didn’t hear a car. And what’s more astonishing, Otis didn’t hear a car. Is it like the one in your dream?”

She stepped out onto the snowy deck, freezing her poor feet. She got a little closer. “I’m not sure. Very similar. But last night I was more focused on my mother. I’m not crazy, I know she’s dead. But Landry, I think she paid me a visit last night. Really.”

“I’ve heard of stranger things,” he said, walking toward her. “All I know for sure is there was no tree there last night, there’s a tree there now, and you had quite a meltdown.”

“I’m sorry about that, but it was overwhelming. It was so good to see her. She wasn’t like the last time I saw her. Her cheeks were plump and rosy and her hair was thick and dark. She looked healthy. Restored. And she had things on her mind. She said, ‘I think we should talk.’ That’s what she always said when she thought I needed advice. And when she was a little unhappy with me or when she thought I’d better get a grip.”

“What did she say?”

She thought for a moment, trying to remember everything. It was pretty clear, not like usually trying to remember a dream, which wasn’t always easy. But yes, she remembered everything her mother had said. “I need a little time to sort it out. Let me get a cup of coffee.”

“By all means. Then when you’re ready, how about some breakfast?”

She filled her cup. “You and Otis didn’t hear a car, huh.”

He shook his head. “Maybe angels don’t drive.”

13

KAYLEE TOOK HER laptop to Jack’s almost out of habit. She’d finished her book, had sent it to her publisher, and the deadline was gone. But she wanted to be there, and Jack had good Wi-Fi so she could at least check and answer her mail. She fully expected her editor to call or write and ask her to do more work on the book. She was convinced it was finished, but not good enough.

“Sorry, Kaylee, the Wi-Fi is out,” Jack said.

“Oh no! How are you getting by?”

“Me?” he asked, then laughed. “I’m just barely off the clipboard. I gotta say, I’m not that crazy about computers. I’m getting along fine as long as I have Preacher to help me out if I get myself in trouble, but I am no geek. To me, it’s a tool, like a hammer. I am not romantically involved with my computer.”