Saturday Night Silliness -- Random Musings of a Writer Lady and Her Cat.

  I was mentally and emotionally exhausted when Lisa knocked on the door jamb to the master bedroom. She looked slightly pale, her brow knitted. “ Do you know what’s wrong?” I asked. “ Yes.” “ And?” “ Phoebe is upset because she’s not getting her Christmas wish.” “ I finished writing the book . She has to get her wish now.” “ The odd twist to this is...Phoebe’s Christmas wish was for you and McKinley to fall in love. With each other.” “ When he left she knew there was no way she was going to get her wish.” I said. “ I wish she had confided in me a couple of weeks ago I could have explained to her that Christmas wishes which i nvolved other people doing things do not usually come true.” “ What good would that have done?” “ She could have asked for something else. Most little girls ask for ponies.” “ Phoebe is not most little girls.” Lisa pointed out. “ A snowmobile. She could have wished for a snowmobile.” I looked through the window at the

  “That clarifies things.” We walked in silence for several minutes. “Do you have any theories?” McKinley asked. “Nothing that is developed completely, no.” “Is there an E.T.A. on when you might have it figured out?” I thought about it and I couldn’t quite make the words “He’s a ghost,” come out of my mouth. Luckily nature helped me out, my foot found a bit of ice. “I’m busy trying not to fall on my ass at the moment if you don’t mind.” McKinley moved in closer, ready to reach out and offer support if needed. Shifting my weight, I regained my balance. The original search formation we established earlier resumed. We took turns calling for Phoebe. We found two sheds and one abandoned tree stand. Both showed no evidence anyone had been inside or on them in quite some time. “Why do I get the feeling she’s not out here?” McKinley asked. “Because a perfectly happy eight year old who absolutely loves everything Christmas and sticks to her holiday movie list

  The next morning was a mess of pre-occupation as my mind searched for something that would explain the depth of McKinley’s anger. The book I was writing was getting closer and closer to the end. Soon I was going to be writing hard and clear about the events currently taking place. The way things were going it would be a shitstorm to write. All I could do regarding the request for information on Edward Miller, on the other hand, was wait. I wandered downstairs to refill my coffee hoping to find someone or some thing to distract me from my thoughts. Everywhere my thoughts were wandering was no place I wanted to be. Lisa entered the kitchen for her own refill before I gave up and headed back upstairs to sit in my bedroom and not write. “I read the chapter you left for me. I told you Mac’s interested.” She bragged. “He was interested.” “Was? What happened?” “I happened. I gave the notebook with the chapter in it to Phoebe and told her to put it where yo

  “The man in the bookstore was your father?” Lisa asked. I shook my head. “My father died before my first birthday.” I picked up the letter of notification and opened it and read aloud “suffered a fatal injury due to a weapons malfunction which resulted in his death. Edward Miller passed away on June 21, 1984.” “Could they be lying?” “Why would the military lie about what happened? If they had and he was alive he would have found his way back to my mother. The man in the bookstore was younger than me not older.” “Maybe it was a relative who decided to look you up? A random look-alike, what are they called.. Doppelgangers. A cruel joke?” “There could be several explanations.” “You’re probably right.” Lisa agreed. “Phoebe’s decorating unsupervised, I’d better get back downstairs. Could you wander down in about thirty minutes?” I nodded. “Don’t forget to act surprised.” “Do I ever?” I made a quick phone call the next morning to an associate re