Below is an except from Bryony, the first book in the BryonySeries trilogy.
At breakfast, her mother said they were going Christmas shopping in Jenson.
“It’s like a funeral around here.” She looked at Melissa and Brian’s dismal faces and tried to sound upbeat. “Heaven knows we’ve certainly had enough of those.”
“I don’t feel like Christmas shopping.” Head in hand, Brian stirred his cereal around in his bowl, but he ate very little of it. Some of it sloshed over the sides, but no one said anything.
“Me, neither,” Melissa said.
“We need to get out of the house,” Darlene said. “We can mope in Jenson.”
Back in Grover’s Park, one couldn’t miss the start of the holiday season. Garland angels topped streetlights, store windows delivered Christmas surprises with every glimpse, and a giant tree graced the center of town, which the mayor dedicated and lit with grand solemnity each Thanksgiving weekend at the conclusion of the annual Step Into Christmas parade.
Munsonville’s Main Street showcased none of that glamour. There was no elaborate décor and no signs advertising sale items for those special Christmas gifts.
True, someone ran a strand of blinking lights around the perimeter of the picture window of Sue’s Diner, and Ann’s mother hung a wreath on the front door of Dalton’s Dry Goods, but those flaccid decorating attempts scarcely hinted that Christmas fast approached, which suited Melissa, for she felt no holiday spirit. She gazed at the tiny tree flaunting the front porch of the general store, then realized, with sudden astonishment, in all these months she had lived in Munsonville, she had never gone inside that building.
When Melissa’s father was alive, her mother shopped and ran errands once a week, while Melissa and Brian completed their homework under their father’s watchful eye. Shopping, for Melissa, meant going to the Grover’s Park mall with her friends, so even accompanying her mother to the supermarket had never entered Melissa’s mind.
Here, she was so engrossed in John that mundane, daily tasks escaped her. Did her mother shop in town while Melissa and Brian were in school, or had Steve, who did most of the cooking, buy their food?
Melissa wished that, with Munsonville behind them, she could banish depressing thoughts for an afternoon, but driving through the desolate countryside reminded Melissa of her carriage ride with Henry, only a week ago. The barren landscape intensified Melissa’s ache for roses and firewood, the delicate fragrance of wildflowers on a summer afternoon, and the mouthwatering smells of a Simons Mansion dinner.
Thirty minutes later, Melissa was amidst the crowds who packed downtown Jenson seeking last minute bargains. Her mother rode around the block searching for a parking place. After the third trip, she squeezed the station wagon between two pick-up trucks. The car behind her blasted its horn.
“I think that man wanted your space, Mom,” Brian said.
“Tough!” Darlene said, with uncharacteristic sharpness. “Remind me to come back in two hours,” she added, softening. “I’ll have to put more change in the meter.”
While waiting for the traffic light to change, their mother put her arms around Melissa and Brian and hugged them.
“I’m really sorry I spoke that way, kids,” Darlene said. “It wasn’t a very good example. I know we’re not in the Christmas mood, but let’s have a good time anyway.”
No one answered her.
Store windows boasted colorful Christmas decorations, more like Grover’s Park than Munsonville, but to Melissa, they were hardly worth a second glance. One store featured eight, very tiny reindeer pulling a sleigh filled with toys, while Santa waved a mechanical arm at shoppers. Another window offered a winter wonderland of snowflakes, snowmen, snowwomen, and mitten-clad dolls engaged in a mock snowball fight. A third was full of games, trucks, and dolls, flanked by colorful packages tied with shiny bows and stacked in groups of threes, fours, and fives.
On nearly every street corner, a Santa Claus rang a bell, and shoppers dropped coins into his bucket.
“Merry Christmas!” Santa called to each one, as he distributed candy canes.
“It’s to help the poor people,” Melissa said to Brian.
“I know,” Brian said.
They weaved aimlessly through the mob. The cold and gray stamped out hope. At first, Melissa wished it would snow, for flurries would mask the dreary sky, until she recalled the eighty-year-old carriage house lodging where, somewhere in the past, it held a brand-new, eighty-year-old sleigh. John pledged a sleigh ride through the woods on the day of the first snow. Would he still keep that promise?
“Wait!” Brian said.
He stopped outside a large window. An electric train ran around the tracks of a North Pole scene. He stood there, mesmerized by the sleek cars winding up hills, through tunnels, and around lakes.
“Boy, Steve and I could have some fun with this,” Brian said, then stopped. He turned away from the window, and Melissa avoided his crestfallen face.
“Let’s go inside,” Darlene said, putting her arm around his shoulders and drawing him close to her. To Melissa’s surprise, Brian let her.
They meandered up and down the aisles, pretending to look at rows of toys. Melissa ignored the collector Victorian dolls. Her mother did not have to tell Brian to keep his hands to himself.
“I want to go home,” Brian whined.
“Let’s get some hot chocolate,” Darlene quickly said.
They left the store and trudged to a small restaurant. Although not yet lunchtime, shoppers filled the dining area. They found a table in the back, near the kitchen, amidst the banging of frying pans. Her mother ordered three hot chocolates topped with mounds of whipped cream. In the past, pausing in their holiday activities to get warm and drink hot chocolate was a cherished tradition. Now, no one cared.
“This isn’t very good hot chocolate,” Melissa said, to no one in particular.
The speakers in the diner played a children’s chorus singing, Jingle Bells, mocking Melissa with the thrill of horse-drawn sleigh rides. Brian didn’t eat the whipped cream with his fingers. Darlene paid the bill, and they left half-full cups.
As they plodded along the sidewalk, Melissa had an idea that cheered her slightly. She fell behind her mother and poked Brian in the ribs.
“We should get Mom something,” she said, “for Christmas.”
Brian perked up. “I have some allowance money left.”
Her mother’s face brightened when Melissa suggested stopping at the bookstore.
Brian scoured a new comic book. Melissa lingered by an exhibit of hardcover books. Darlene browsed the shelves.
“What are you looking at, Liss?” Brian asked, the crook of a candy cane hanging from his mouth.
“Where’d you get that?”
“Santa,” he said and pointed to the man standing on the corner. “I dropped a quarter in the bucket.”
Under New Releases, Melissa pointed to the title capturing her attention: The Prosecutor Rests and Other Short Stories by Harold Masters.
“Doesn’t he teach at our school?” Brian licked his sticky fingers.
“He did, until last week. Mom likes to read his books, and she doesn’t have this one. Maybe, a good book would get her mind off stuff.”
“Okay, let’s get it.”
She mostly wanted to distract her mother, and yet, Melissa found herself stroking the book jacket. She knew Henry hadn’t touched it, but somehow, holding the words he wrote made her feel closer to him. When she stopped, Melisa noticed Brian’s queer stare.
While they stood in line to pay for the book, Brian picked out a large piece of foil-wrapped chocolate, decorated like a tree ornament, to accompany the gift. “We can tape it on the book when we wrap it,” he said.
The clerk handed Melissa the bag, just as their mother approached the front of the store. Brian waved at her, and she wound her way through the crowds to reach them.
“Well,” Darlene said, with an exuberance Melissa suspected she did not feel. “I’m glad to see you have a dash of Christmas spirit in you, after all.
“No peeking,” Brian warned her.
They left Jenson before the meter time expired. When they returned home, Brian insisted on grabbing the bag. Melissa didn’t argue with him. She was in no mood for wrapping Christmas presents. They had driven past Simons Mansion twice that day, and twice Melissa had closed her eyes against the royal, old building, once full of future assurance. How could she tolerate living here? Why had her vampires forsaken her? Sleep that night was hollow and restless. Twice, Melissa woke and checked her clock. She flipped over her pillow and sleep dragged her into a woozy, ghastly marsh of silhouettes spewing unintelligible wails until they became barks. Scooter!
Melissa rose to let him outside, but when she opened the patio door, Scooter was a Newfoundland. His face twisted in demonic fury, and he growled and bared his fangs at her before disappearing among the naked trees and into the chilly night. Melissa grabbed a flashlight and her heavy coat, then stepped outside.
“Scooter!”
A faint, screeching bark answered her, and the landscape changed.
