Christmas Memory

By ID Johnson

From the author of Melody's Christmas.

Can a Christmas angel fix a meet-cute gone wrong?

Memory Wilson is supposed to meet Dakota Brooks and fall in love. But when a sudden gust of wind from a startled angel messes everything up, their two paths never intersect. Can Memory's late Grandma Helen come to earth in disguise and bring two hearts together? Or will Memory's skepticism keep her from finding the love of her life?

If you love sweet Christmas stories with heavenly themes, you'll love Christmas Memory! 
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: ID Johnson
• Release date: Feb 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9791220267267

ID Johnson

ID Johnson wears many hats: mother, wife, editor, tutu maker, and writer, to name a few. Some of her favorite people are the two little girls who often implore that she "watch me!" in the middle of forming finely crafted sentences, that guy who dozes off well before she closes her laptop, and those furry critters at the foot of the bed at night. If she could do anything in the world, she would live in Cinderella's castle and write love stories all day while sipping Dr. Pepper and eating calorie-less Hershey's kisses. For now, she'll stick to her Dallas-area home and spending her days with the characters she's grown to love. After 16 years in education, Johnson has embarked on a new career, one as a full-time writer. This will allow her to write at least one book per month, which means many of your favorite character will have new tales to tell in the upcoming months. Look for two spin-off series of The Clandestine Saga, one staring Cassidy Findley and another involving backstories for your favorite characters. Johnson will also produce several new historical romance novels and a new sweet contemporary Christian romance series as well.

Book preview

Johnson

Chapter 1

December, 2009

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Christmas music blared from the speakers strategically placed around the ice skating rink. No matter where one was skating--or in Memory Wilson’s case—falling, the festive sounds serenaded the perfect pirouette—or wipe out, as the case may be. Though her friends had been patient and tried to teach her, Memory was sure she’d just never get the hang of it. She’d come to the mall to buy a few last minute presents, not bust her behind on the ice, so she decided to watch from a nearby bench as Kathryn Rodgers and Rebekkah Stephens had fun whizzing past like naturals. Despite the ache in her hip, Memory laughed as they twirled each other around like ballerinas. Twisting her fingers through her long blonde hair, she decided watching wasn’t so bad, and it was a lot less painful.

Mariah Carey’s voice filled the rink, with many an aspiring singer joining in. Memory knew all the words to All I Want for Christmas Is You but didn’t sing along. Her voice was better left in her head where only she could hear it. She finished taking off the cumbersome ice skates and slipped her sneakers back on as Rebekkah and Kathryn bumped into the half-wall in front of her. You sure you’re done? Rebekkah asked. It’s not as much fun without you.

Smiling at her friend’s sweet comment, Memory nodded. Yes, I’m sure. As it is, I’m going to have bruises. You two go, have fun.

We should get some cocoa at that new place by the Chinese restaurant at the food court, Kathryn suggested.

Good idea, Rebekkah agreed, tossing her blonde ponytail over her shoulder. I’ve heard their mint chocolate is the best.

Kathryn took Rebekkah’s hand, and the two skated toward the exit, still talking about the cocoa shop. Memory couldn’t help but smile. Rebekkah and Kathryn were her very best friends—except for Grandma Helen. No one could be a better friend than her. The two girls sat down on the bench next to Memory’s and went about changing out of their skates, and her mind drifted.

She’d found the perfect gift for her grandmother. It was a journal with a cardinal on the front cover. Grandma Helen said whenever she saw a cardinal, it was the spirit of someone she loved coming back from heaven to say hello. Memory had no idea how that could be true, but she liked the thought of it. Sometimes, when she was at her grandmother’s large Victorian home, they’d sit by the picture window and stare out at the front yard, watching the birds flutter around the birdbath, flying from tree to tree. It was a magical place, with lots of beautiful plants and flowers. Grandma Helen spent hours telling Memory about each one, how her late husband, Memory’s Grandpa Joe, had planted them, and how Memory’s mother, Ann, had helped. Speaking about Ann seemed to make Grandma happy, so she let her grandma go on whenever she wanted to even though Memory had only met her mother through pictures and stories. She loved hearing about her, though. Whenever a cardinal landed nearby, Grandma Helen often insisted it was either Ann or Joe stopping to say hello, depending upon the color. Memory would smile, wishing it were true that angels could take the form of birds, but she was pretty sure it was just a feathered-friend enjoying her grandmother’s many bird feeders.

A group of boys skated by, their laughter jarring Memory out of her thoughts. Several of them slammed into each other trying to get through the exit at the same time, and she watched with a smile, finding it a little comical that five of them thought they could get out at once. The one at the back who waited on his friends to go first heard her giggle and looked her way. Memory felt her face turn red as his dark eyes landed on her face. He smiled at her, but she looked away. If she had to guess, he was probably about her age, maybe a little older. Since she wasn’t in her hometown of Christmas Falls she had never seen him before. Flirting really wasn’t her thing, even though she did think he was cute with his sprinkle of freckles and long eyelashes. The idea that a boy that attractive might be interested in her seemed comical, despite everyone always telling her how pretty she was.

The boys took up a couple of benches behind Memory and her friends who were still chatting even though they had their shoes on now. I’ll run the skates back, Rebekkah said, gathering them up. Give me yours, Memory.

I don’t think you can carry them all, Memory protested, picking them up herself to take them back.

Of course I can, Rebekkah insisted, making a muscle with one arm to show how strong she was. Don’t underestimate me.

Laughing, Memory handed them over and watched Rebekkah stroll past the boys with a little more swagger in her walk than normal as Kathryn sat down on the bench next to her. She’s so silly, Kathryn said, running her hand through her short brown hair. I wonder what school those boys go to.

They’re probably locals, Memory said with a shrug. Carmel High would be my guess. Why don’t you go ask them? She pushed on Kathryn’s knee, giggling, knowing her friend was just as shy as she was and not likely to say a word to any of them.

Ha! Go for it! Kathryn chided, shaking her head. You know they’d think you’re pretty. Everyone at CFH does.

Please! Melody insisted, shaking her head. That’s not true, and besides, there’s not a guy at Christmas Falls High that I’d wanna date anyway.

I know, I know. You’re going to find the man of your dreams while you’re studying business at Harvard.

Not Harvard, Memory insisted, making her blue eyes wide for emphasis. But somewhere. I’ll come back, though. I love Christmas Falls. I just don’t like any of the boys in our class. It’s not like we have many to choose from.

True. Too bad those guys don’t go to our school.

Memory stole a glance over her shoulder to see the boy she’d noticed before looking her way. Feeling the heat in her cheeks again, she looked away as Rebekkah accidentally bumped into the guy on the end and started chatting. Great. We’ll be here all day.

Kathryn pulled her phone out of her pocket. Not if I can help it. She sent a quick text, waited a second, and then held up her phone as it dinged. Bek, come on! My mom is waiting for us at the cocoa shop!

Memory looked at her friend and not the boys, watching as Rebekkah rolled her eyes. Fine! she shouted and then turned back to say something to the boy. Kathryn grabbed her coat and handed Memory hers, holding up Rebekkah’s for her. Their flirtatious friend sauntered over and took it from her outstretched hand. Couldn’t give me five minutes, huh? she said, shaking her head.

Hey, we didn’t come here to flirt with boys, Kathryn reminded her. This is our girls’ weekend getaway, remember?

Every weekend is a girls’ weekend getaway when you have no boyfriend, Rebekkah said, pitifully.

Kathryn stood and put her arm around her friend’s shoulders to console her, heading toward the exit. Ever since Rebekkah’s boyfriend had broken up with her a few weeks ago, she’d been a bag of emotions—flirty and fun one minute, desperately sad the next. Memory had no idea what it would be like to be dumped by a guy, so she couldn’t empathize, but she did feel bad for her friend. Her mind was on Rebekkah when she stood and followed behind her friends, hoping the cocoa would cheer her up since Kathryn hadn’t let her flirt with the boys.

Memory had only taken a few steps when she felt a tap on her shoulder and stopped, Excuse me, I think this is yours.

Turning her head, her eyes met wide brown ones, a sprinkle of freckles, and a shy smile. What’s that? she managed, her heart beating out of her chest.

This package—is it yours?

He was holding her shopping bag, the one with her grandmother’s present in it. Oh, yeah. Yeah, it’s mine. Thanks. She took it, her fingertips brushing slightly against his, and a tingle climbed her arm. A rush of red crept up her neck to her cheeks, and Memory took a step back, not able to pull her eyes off of his yet.

You’re welcome, he said, his grin widening as his face also turned a light pink.

Cody, come on! one of the other boys yelled. Ask her out later!

The rest of the boys laughed loudly, and Cody’s face turned an even brighter shade of crimson. Memory wasn’t sure what to do or say, so she muttered, Thanks, again and hurried off to join her friends. If he said anything else to her, she didn’t hear.

When she caught up to her friends, who’d stopped a few feet away to wait for her, Memory’s heart was thundering in her chest louder than the drums in the song that was playing—which happened to be Little Drummer Boy.

He’s cute! Rebekkah said, a smile brightening her face. What did he say?

Nothing. He just handed me my bag, Memory insisted, walking briskly toward the exit.

Girl, slow down, Rebekkah called after her. Did you get his name? His number?

No! I just got my bag.

For someone named Memory, you sure leave things behind a lot, Kathryn mumbled. Memory turned and looked at her sharply. Sorry, sorry. He was cute, though. If he lives here in Carmel, that’s not too far from Christmas Falls. You should go find out.

Memory shook her head. There was no way she was approaching the rowdy group of boys that were making their way toward the exit on the other side of the rink. Nope. Come on. Let’s go to the food court before Mrs. Rodgers thinks we’re lost.

Okay. Your loss, Rebekkah muttered, and the three of them headed toward the exit closest to the food court, away from the one Cody was likely walking out of.

Memory didn’t dare look though. If it was meant to be, she’d see him again someday. She tried to put him out of her head and let the mall’s Christmas music fill her mind with happy thoughts. Kathryn was right—she didn’t always have a very good memory, despite her name. But she was pretty sure she’d never forget Cody.

Chapter 2

January 31, 2019

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B e careful on that ladder, Memory said, staring up at her older sister Kirsten as she took another step higher toward the top of the Christmas tree.

You mean like this? Kirsten asked, leaning backward at a precarious angle and waving one arm around, though the other still gripped a rung.

That’s not funny! Memory glared up at her, holding firm to the ladder to steady it.

Relax, sis. No one’s going to the hospital today. Kirsten reached the top of the tree and carefully pulled the angel tree topper off, handing it down to Memory, who let go with one hand to take it.

Memory studied the angel for a moment. This was her grandmother’s favorite piece. Every year, when the girls’ dad, Bryce, placed it on top of the tree, Grandma Helen would tell the story of how Grandpa Joe had brought it home from a business trip to London when they’d first gotten married, back in the late 1960s. It was one of Memory’s favorite stories because Grandpa Joe had searched high and low for the perfect gift for his bride. The auburn-haired angel, dressed in a white gown with golden trim, had a beautiful porcelain face and held a candle. The angel bathed the entire tree in a glow that warmed the room and Memory’s heart.

She carefully handed the item over to her dad who waited with bubble wrap in hand to package it up. The angel had been the inspiration for her grandmother to open her own little shop on the square downtown, years later, when she decided everyone deserved special Christmas pieces in their lives. Memory had worked there with her in high school, and now that she’d finished her bachelor’s in business, her plan was to take The Memory Box to the next level. She was already working hard to make the shop an online presence. Grandma Helen didn’t care about any of that—she just loved sitting behind the cash register visiting with all of the folks as they came in to look around.

Are you all right, Grandma? Memory asked, glancing over at Helen who was overseeing operations from a chair by the window.

Helen smiled, though her eyes were only half-open. I’m fine, dear. Just a bit of indigestion. I’ll be all right. She chuckled, but something seemed off. Grandma was never happy on the day they packed up all the Christmas decorations, but today, she seemed unwell.

Can I get you anything? Bryce asked, carefully placing the angel in its own plastic bin.

I’m fine, Helen insisted. Just need to rest my eyes.

Memory took a few steps closer to her grandmother, noticing her coloring didn’t look quite right. Grandma Helen had just turned 72 last month, and while she had some health problems, she was still able to get around well, working at the shop almost every day and never missing a Sunday at church. Grandma... do you want some water?

No, dear. Please, don’t worry over me. We need to get this tree put away. We can’t have a Christmas tree up in February. Not outside of the shop anyway. She laughed again, but it sounded forced.

Maison will be over soon with the kids, Kirsten said, handing the ornaments from the top of the tree down to their dad now that Memory had stepped away. Remembering she was supposed to hold the ladder, she went back, thinking the last thing they needed was for Kirsten to fall. She had a newborn son to take care of and a three-year-old daughter.

Good, good, Grandma Helen said, her voice sounding as if she were about to fall asleep. I just love that little Lorelei. Reminds me of my Ann. And that baby Anson is precious. Her voice trailed off, and Memory assumed she’d fallen asleep.

Kirsten came down from the ladder. I don’t like this, Dad. I don’t think she’s well.

A lump formed in Memory’s throat as she braced the ladder for her sister, her eyes turning back to her grandmother. Grandma Helen had been Memory’s best friend for as long as she could remember. Not only did they work together at the shop, Memory had moved into Grandma Helen’s house when she’d returned from college. When Memory was away at school, she’d called her grandma every night, and they’d decided it would be a big help to Grandma Helen if Memory lived with her and helped run the shop. Memory enjoyed living in the historic home, and she loved spending so much time with her grandmother.

Memory swallowed hard as her dad put the ornaments down on top of a bin and slowly walked over to Grandma Helen’s chair. Helen? he called, quietly. Are you all right?

Memory watched as her father reached out to his mother-in-law, placing his hand on her shoulder. Helen? Helen! Her hands flew to her mouth—she’d known something wasn’t right. Kirsten—call nine-one-one, Bryce insisted, shaking Grandma Helen, gently at first and then more vigorously. Tears streamed down Memory’s face as she heard her sister speaking to the emergency dispatcher. Grandma Helen wasn’t opening her eyes....

In the window behind her, three cardinals landed on the branch of an evergreen tree—one bright red and two brown. They flittered around together, calling a happy tune, as if they had just been reunited. Sirens blared in the distance, but they didn’t leave their branch, and seeing them, Memory remembered what her grandmother always said about cardinals. Another tear slipped down her cheek, rolling off, landing on the container that held the Christmas angel.

Chapter 3

December 2, 2019

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Helen Graham rushed down the hall, sliding her feet along the polished white marble like she was a kid, even though she was far from it if she counted by earthly years. After almost eleven months in this place, she was beginning to get used to the Big Guy’s affinity for all things pure and gleaming, though in her own home on the other side of the park from the administrative office she was visiting, she preferred to have as many colors as possible—bold reds, vibrant blues, and a color she hadn’t even known existed until she’d come here—blueple. Joe preferred more muted tones, but he could have all the browns and dark greens he wanted in his man-cave, so long as he didn’t interfere with Helen’s bright living room and kitchen.

Glancing down at her watch, she saw that she had two minutes. Punctuality had never been her strength in life, and it was something she was working on now as well. Not that the scatter-brained AA she was rushing to meet would likely be ready for her anyway. In their monthly meetings before, Stella hadn’t proven herself to be on top of things, and Helen often wondered how she got to be an Angel Assistant in the first place. She figured Stella must’ve known someone who knew someone who knew the Big Guy well. Either that or she’d just been around so long, she’d managed to get the job that way. With one minute to spare, Helen slid to a stop in front of the large white door, took a deep breath, and went in.

The waiting room was full of other angels, all of them wearing similar outfits to Helen’s white blouse and pants. She wore whatever she liked at home, but when one visited the administrative offices, or if one were lucky enough to be invited to the Big Guy’s home on the hill, it was best to wear white. She stood in a line three deep, waiting her turn, and when she reached the receptionist, she said, Hello there. Helen Graham here to see Stella Smithy.

Yes, dear, the receptionist, a woman with bright red hair and a large smile, replied. I’ll let Stella know you’re here.

Thank you. Helen returned the smile. Your hair is so pretty. I always wanted to be a redhead, but the only way I could’ve managed that was out of a bottle. She tugged on a lock of her mousy brown hair, which she’d taken to wearing long again now that she wasn’t old any more—not that she was young either. She just was....

You can be a redhead if you like, the receptionist, Ginger, according to her name plate, reminded her. Here, you can be anything you want, so long as it’s pleasing to the Big Guy.

Right, Helen remembered. She wondered what Joe would think if she came home with bright red hair.

Have a seat, and she’ll call you back shortly.

Helen nodded and took a seat near a woman who was knitting as she waited. Looking up from her work, the woman smiled politely but didn’t speak. Helen got the impression she hadn’t been here long. Her hands were shaking a bit as she purled.

One of the office doors opened and an AA stepped out, calling a name as he looked around the sitting area. A man dressed all in white except for his black socks, which looked odd poking out of his white loafers, rushed off in that direction, adjusting his belt as if he meant to impress.

Helen was glad she hadn’t busted her back getting here on time since it was obvious all of the AAs were running behind. She glanced at her watch again. Joe would probably be fixing lunch about now. It was so nice to be back together with him. When he’d passed on, she’d never gotten over it. He’d suffered a heart attack a few years after their beloved daughter, Ann, had passed giving birth to their granddaughter, Memory. Both events had been heartbreaking for Helen, and if it hadn’t been for Memory, she might’ve never gotten past either of them. Her granddaughter had been the light that kept her going.

Now that Helen had passed on, she worried about Memory. They’d always been so close, and Memory didn’t have many friends. She was a beautiful girl, but she hardly ever dated anyone. There had been that boy in college—Alex something-or-other—but he’d lived in Indianapolis and wasn’t willing to give up his big city lifestyle to move back to tiny Christmas Falls. Memory had always been a bit different than others, wise beyond her years but not always willing to trust other people, possibly because she’d lost her mom when she was born. She worked so hard and never made time for herself. It was a shame. Memory deserved to meet someone special and start a family of her own.

Helen? Stella’s familiar voice called from across the room.

Helen smiled and waved, checking whether or not she’d brought a bag, which she hadn’t because there was no need for such things here, and gathered herself up out of the chair. She made her way across the room and into Stella’s cozy office, closing the door behind her.

Have a seat, Stella said, offering a chair across from her desk. She sat behind the large wooden edifice, only her shoulders and head visible on the other side. She was a slight woman, with dark hair bobbed at her chin, and her white pant suit looked slightly large on her tiny frame. Helen might’ve been jealous if she weren’t past all that. She’d always been a larger woman with curves and hips and all that went along with it. Joe hadn’t minded one bit, calling her his voluptuous vixen, but Helen had always wished she could’ve been a bit more slender. None of that mattered now.

Stella opened a file. This is your... eleven month visit, is that right? It’s been eleven months and two days since your passing?

Yes, ma’am, Helen said politely. Almost a year.

And how are you getting along? Stella closed the folder, her hand tipping a glowing white paperweight, which fell over with a thud. She went to pick it up, dropped it again, and then managed to sit it on its base, tipping her pen holder over in the process. Oh, dear.

Let me, Helen insisted, standing and helping the AA put all of her white pens back into their white container. There we are. Helen smiled, smoothing her pants as she sat back down. I’m getting along well. It’s lovely being back with my husband. My daughter, Ann, lives right down the street. I see my parents often, my older brother.... I’m doing well.

Good, good. Stella placed her hands flat on top of the folder. It’s nice to see you’ve made the adjustments necessary to fit in here. It can be jarring to some people, but you seem to have assimilated nicely.

Yes, I think I have, Helen nodded. There’s just one thing.... She hesitated, knowing Stella wouldn’t like what she had to say next. She’d asked about her family back on earth a few times before, and Stella had always insisted she wasn’t at liberty to discuss any of that. Still, she had to try.

What is it? Stella’s smile was tight, demonstrating she knew what Helen was about to say.

Well, this is the time of year my family is the busiest. I owned a shop on the downtown square in my hometown, Christmas Falls. It was a quaint little place where people stopped by year round for trinkets and gifts, but during the Christmas holiday, it came to life with ornaments and special gifts. I ran it with my granddaughter, Memory. Such a sweet girl. She lived with me for a couple of years after college. We had the best time together. She smiled fondly, thinking of Memory’s pretty face, all lit up by the Christmas tree lights. I’m just wondering... this being our first Christmas apart, how is she doing? You can tell me, can’t you? Just that she’s doing all right? I’d hate to think she’s spending her favorite time of year moping around, missing me.

Stella’s smile faded for a moment, her lips tightening into a thin line. You know I’m not supposed to discuss such topics with you, Mrs. Graham. The smile was back, but it had morphed so that it resembled a jack-o-lantern’s grin more than an angel’s.

Yes, I know. But surely no one will mind just a quick update. I mean, really, how am I supposed to relax and enjoy the birthday celebrations coming up for the Big Guy’s son if I’m worried about Memory?

This is our most festive time of the year as well, Stella agreed. The angel choir is working on a new song right now. Whitney Houston will be singing a solo.

Lovely! Helen said, giggling to punctuate her enthusiasm. I would love to hear it. And I would love to know how my Memory is doing. She tipped her forehead forward, her eyes wide, hoping Stella would see the desperation.

With a sigh, Stella shook her head. I’m not supposed to do this, she muttered. But I suppose it won’t hurt. Just this once. You should know, however, if you have ambitions to be an AA someday, or otherwise serve the Big Guy, you’ll have to follow the rules.

Helen nodded. Oh, yes. I am a strict rule follower. Normally.

Stella opened up a thin, white laptop and started typing, and Helen reflected on all of the other duties she’d heard of. She didn’t think she’d ever want to be an AA, but there were a few other jobs that interested her. She could’ve joined the angel chorus because she loved to sing, but even in Heaven, she couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. Ann worked in the aviary, with the birds they sent down to comfort those who’d recently lost a loved one, and she seemed to enjoy that work, especially with the cardinals. But Helen was most intrigued by the Fixers, the group of angels who went back to earth to make corrections when something didn’t quite go as planned. There weren’t many positions available, but it seemed like an intriguing job, something Helen would be good at. She’d talked to Joe about it a few months ago. At the time, he’d said he didn’t know how he would do without her for any length of time, but as long as her mission was short, he’d love to see her off helping others. He had his gardening duties that he spent his free time attending to, along with a group of other angels who loved to care for the trees and plants that beautified their town. Occasionally, they’d plant a special tree or flower on earth as well, though Joe hadn’t been involved in that since he’d helped plant an evergreen outside of the home he’d shared with his wife, just a couple of years after he’d died. Helen hadn’t known where the tree had come from at the time, but now, she smiled, thinking of all the happy cardinals she’d seen flying about that tree over the years. She’d thought of him every time she looked out the window.

Ah, here we go, Stella said, bringing