“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 better than most people follow traffic laws would not run away.”
“If she did it wouldn’t be on Christmas Eve.”
“Precisely. I wonder if she found a new tradition. Something she would need to be outside to observe. Are there any?”
“Christmas traditions unique to these mountains?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“No. Not that I know of.”
We made our way to the cabin McKinley and I had taken refuge in a couple of weeks ago. There were no signs anyone had been there recently. It was exactly as we had left it.
“This feels like a wild goose chase.” McKinley observed. “Who sends people on a wild goose chase on Christmas Eve?”
I wandered over to the window while McKinley checked the back of the cabin. I spotted a light in the distance, it was dim at first, reminding me a bit of a lighthouse, the way it seemed to be moving closer, further away, then closer once again. I felt something pulling me, urging me to walk towards it. I turned away, looking for McKinley. From the distant sounds I was hearing he was checking the back. He would probably be checking the shed where he kept his snowmobile next.
When I reached for the front doorknob and turned the light I was watching began to flicker more brightly. I stepped outside. On the light’s next pass it was brighter still. With each passing moment, each step closer, the light it grew brighter. I kept walking and when the light dimmed I found myself face to face with Edward Miller.
“It’s difficult isn’t it?” The young man said. “Not knowing if the person you’re facing is friend or foe. Not knowing what to say to them.”
I realized whether this was my father’s ghost or a disturbed person intent on doing me harm, either way, there was only a brief period of time to get answers. I counted to three, took a deep breath and… “Where’s Phoebe?”
“The little girl who’s been staying with you?” He asked. “She’s not with me. She’s in no danger. You’ll be notified soon.”
“What’s going on? Why did you say the things you did in the bookstore? Why did you follow me here? Why did you push me?”
“It’s my job as the keeper of your Christmas wish to watch from a distance and wait. To deliver your wish to you at the right time.”
“It’s not my wish any more, I gave it to Phoebe.”
“Yes. About the binding thing, binding your wish to hers was a kind gesture, full of love. What you didn’t know is binding one Christmas wish to another can have unforeseen consequences.” He said.
“Like what?” I asked.
“The requirement for fulfilling your wish has become the requirement for fulfilling Phoebe’s.”
“If I don’t finish writing my story by midnight…”
“...the child’s wish will not be granted.” Edward Miller said.
Shock, anger, and frustration began to well in my stomach. “Why would you do that? What good comes from hurting a child?”
He held up both hands, palms facing me. “I don’t make the rules. When your mother and I found out about your Christmas wish and the stipulations for fulfilling it, we decided we wanted to help you get your wish. We came to the conclusion that the best way to do this was if one of us volunteered to be the wish’s caretaker. To be a guiding hand.”
With four words, your mother and I, it was confirmed that I was speaking to my father’s ghost. A ghost that I was mad at, I began pacing. “A guiding hand? Your guiding hand has been aloof, distant and left me spending way too much of my time wondering if I was losing my freaking mind. Now here we are on Christmas Eve and it comes to this? It comes down to hurting a little girl?”
There was an odd sound. I stopped pacing and looked at the spirit. His eyes had a sadness to them. If was almost as if the ghost sensed my feelings and had deep remorse for how the situation was unfolding.
“I’m sorry. My being the keeper of the wish was your mother’s gift to me. It was a chance for me to do something for my daughter. Something I didn’t have the chance to do while I was alive.”
I focused on the logo on Edward Miller’s t-shirt knowing if I looked at the sadness in his eyes, the pain in his expression, I was going to cry. Crying wasn’t going to get Phoebe her Christmas wish. I thought of a song I was sure my father would think fondly of. I looked at his face and said, “You can’t always get what you want Dad.”
Edward Miller smiled.
I smiled back. “What do I have to do to make Phoebe’s wish come true? What has to happen?”
“Finish writing the book by midnight.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
I nodded. “I guess I’ll be going.”
“You’re almost to the end.” He said.
“After these last few weeks I have to admit that I’m a little scared to see what the end of this mess looks like.”
A gentle smile crossed his lips. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
“Tell Mom...I think of her everyday.”
He nodded before turning away.
“And Dad?”
Edward Miller turned back towards me. “Now that we’ve met. I’ll be thinking of you too.”
“Thanks. I will be thinking of you.”
“I do have one question before you go.” I said. “What’s with the t-shirt?”
“I was raised in foster care. In one house there was an older boy, he was the closest thing I had to family after my folks died. He loved the Stones. When he aged out of the system, on the day he left, he encouraged me to stay out of trouble. He told me that if I ever missed him or needed him to turn on a Stones album. No matter what we always had The Stones. He gave me my own copy of my favorite Rolling Stones album and my own shirt. I still remember his words on that day, ‘Don’t ever lose your way buddy, don’t ever lose your way.’ Because of Rod I never did.”
I nodded. “I’m glad you had him.”
“Me too.”
I turned back towards McKinley’s cabin.
“Jess?”
“Whatever happens. We’ll always have The Rolling Stones.” He said.
I had to admit the picture of my father in the logo t-shirt was responsible for my recent interest in the band’s music. “We will.”
McKinley pulled up on the snowmobile when I was halfway back to his cabin. “Where did you go?”
“I was...I thought I saw something.”
“I just got a text from Lisa. Phoebe went to visit a friend she made at the rink the other day. They were talking about the Christmas movie list. It seems there was debate as to why “Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town” does not qualify for her movie list.”
“She forgot to tell anyone where she was going, time got away from her.”
“Phoebe is home safe now.”
“Good. What time is it?”
“About nine-thirty.”
“I need to get home, yesterday.”
“Any particular reason?” McKinley asked.
Sure, I met my dead father in the woods and it turns out Phoebe won’t get her Christmas wish if I don’t finish sharing my life story by the stroke of twelve. “It’s a long story, tonight I don’t have that kind of time.” I thought for a moment. “I’m working on something for Phoebe. It’s time sensitive.”
“A special gift? I can take you anywhere you need to go for a present.”
“It’s not that kind of present. It’s more like a Christmas miracle so if you would please get me back to my laptop.”
“Get on.” He ordered.
For once I did not argue.
Thanks to McKinley we made it back to my cabin in record time. Giving him a peck on the cheek, I stopped long enough to give both Lisa and Phoebe hugs, emphasizing to Phoebe that we would be having a talk about telling people where you are going and checking in when running late after the holiday. I left the eight year old in the den dozing in front of The Santa Clause.
I locked myself in my bedroom and didn’t come out until 12:30. I found everyone in the den. Phoebe was asleep. Lisa and McKinley must have re-started the movie, they appeared to be half way through. I handed Lisa a folder with a freshly printed copy of the manuscript. She took it from my hand. A look of shock on her face.
“Don’t tell me you’ve finished it.”
“The last period was put into place at 11:58.” I responded.
McKinley looked at us. His eyes were a little darker, his smile flattened into a straight line. “That isn’t more of what I saw the other night is it?”
“This is a really important project for Jess. When I tell you the whole story I’m sure you’ll…”
I placed a hand on the manuscript, a gesture to Lisa that an explanation was not necessary.
“It is.”
“Am I in it?” He asked.
“You are.”
“Take me out.”
“No.” I responded. “I won’t. This isn’t about you. This is something I needed to do, for Phoebe. I’m not editing it, erasing any parts of it or taking it back.”
“It looks like I’ll be going.” He said.
“Mac, if you’d just let me tell you everything.” Lisa said.
McKinley turned to Lisa, “If your boss can’t see how important this is to me there’s nothing you can say that’s going to change the way I feel. She has to change what she wrote.”
McKinley left the cabin. He would not be returning for Christmas.
Phoebe woke when the front door slammed. “What’s going on? She looked around. “Where’s Mac?”
“He’s gone home to get some sleep, like you should be doing.” Lisa said. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“Is he coming back?”
“He’s mad at me Phoebes.” I said. “You might not see him until Monday.” I crossed the room, taking a seat next to her on the couch. “I’ll make sure you get to town. Your mom call Mac and set something up.”
Phoebe’s face fell, tears began to well in the child’s eyes.
“Or I can go to town, Mac can come here. You all can sit in the great room with the Christmas tree and the fire and exchange gifts. Have a nice lunch, play some board games.”
“You don’t understand!” She yelled before running to her room.
“I’ve got it.” Lisa said.
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