The Ghost of Christmas Past Read online

  “But he didn’t write to her for ages,” I said. “The poor mite didn’t know whether he was alive or dead.”

  “We men are not always the best letter writers,” Daniel said. “I’ve felt guilty several times while I’ve been in Washington that I should be writing to you more often. But frankly I never know what to say, except that I miss you. And you already know that.”

  “Oh, Daniel,” I said, burying my head against his chest, smelling the familiar scent of his jacket. “I’m glad you’re back. I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Now I’m home,” he said. “And one way or another let’s hope I won’t have to go away again.”

  “You’re not going to take up Mr. Wilkie’s job offer? We won’t have to move down to Washington?”

  “Let’s just see how things are with the new commissioner when he takes office in January, shall we?” he said. “And failing that, I hear there is to be an opening for chief of police in White Plains. We’d be able to live near my mother and keep an eye on her.”

  I couldn’t very well say that this was the last thing in the world that I wanted. White Plains, where I knew nobody and where people cared about what family you were from and what social connections you had. But I forced myself to say, “You’re right, Daniel. We’ll just have to see what happens next.”

  “I think I can tell you what’s going to happen next,” Daniel said. “Come here.” And then he kissed me.

  Four

  The next day Daniel went to report in to police headquarters. I was against this. “But what if they assign you to a case now and you’re off and working over Christmas?” I demanded. “Surely you don’t need to report back until after the holidays? They lent you to Mr. Wilkie for an indeterminate amount of time, didn’t they? So they aren’t expecting you back.”

  “All the same, I should let them know that my current assignment has ended and I am reinstating myself as police captain. That way I’m already on the books and in the hierarchy when the new commissioner takes office. And the old commissioner has already cleared out, so I’ve been told.” He glanced toward the door, then back at me. “I think I’d be wise to test the direction of the wind, don’t you? Let’s see who welcomes me back and who doesn’t.”

  I watched him go, my heart aching for him. He had been the best officer they could possibly have wanted: conscientious, brave, smart, and completely above corruption—which was something one couldn’t say for many of New York’s finest. However it was this refusal to bend, to overlook, to make deals, that had set him against the powers at Tammany Hall in the first place. And the last commissioner was Tammany’s puppet, determined to find a way to get rid of Daniel. Who knew what the future would bring?

  The uncertainty sent my stomach into knots. I started to clean the house furiously as if physical work might shut out everything going on inside my head. Liam sat on the rug, playing with his blocks and his toy dog, happy to be home, without a care in the world. I watched him with envy. How simple life was when you were that young. Somebody took care of you and fed you and all the grown-ups adored you. Life without a care. How long ago that seemed. I had been thrust into the role of mother to my own younger brothers at the age of fourteen, when my mother died. It seemed I had been taking care of other people ever since. I sighed and went back to sweeping the parlor carpet, my ferocious strokes churning up a cloud of dust.

  The sky was becoming darker and I realized I should go and shop for provisions before it started to snow again. I had just bundled Liam into his winter coat and bonnet when there was a tap on my front door and Sid and Gus stood there. “Oh, you were going out. How lucky that we caught you,” Sid said.

  “Only to get in supplies. The cupboard is bare, so to speak.”

  “We came to say good-bye and merry Christmas,” Gus said. “And to deliver your presents. It would have been much more fun to watch you open them, but you know they come with our love.” And she handed me a sack, such as Santa Claus would have carried.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I feel terrible. I haven’t even got presents for the two of you yet. I was planning to do my Christmas shopping up in White Plains and then to mail you a package.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Sid said. “We’ll have a second celebration when we return. And it’s Bridie’s last day of school, remember. She knows she’s to come back to you after school this afternoon.” She bent to Liam. “You be a good boy, Liam, and let’s see what Santa Claus brings you.”

  “We have to go. The cab is here.” Gus tugged at her sleeve.

  I helped them carry their bags to the hansom cab and waved as they set off, managing my brightest smile. Then I put Liam into his buggy and pushed it over the snowy sidewalk to the stores on Greenwich Avenue.

  Baking. I should start baking for the holidays, I told myself as I made a mental list. But I couldn’t stir up any enthusiasm. Was it really worth the trouble of making mincemeat for just four people? And I hadn’t even made a Christmas pudding. I knew it wasn’t part of Daniel’s tradition but it was certainly part of mine. Christmas pudding was one of the few luxuries we had all year at home. That and the chicken or goose once a year.

  I went through the motions of shopping, making sure there would be a good meal for Daniel that night. I’d make Irish stew, his favorite. I reasoned I’d come back for the dried fruits and spices and flour for the Christmas baking once I’d settled in at home. No need to rush. There was almost a week until Christmas. I’ll wait until Bridie is here, I told myself. It will be fun for her, baking together. I want to make this a Christmas she’ll always remember. And then I think I cried again a little, turning away so that Liam wouldn’t see me.

  Bridie also looked a little tearful when she came home from school. “All the girls hugged me and said they were sorry I was going away,” she said. “And my teacher gave me this.” She held up a copy of the poems of Walt Whitman. Inside, her teacher had written: I celebrate the me yet to come! We will both celebrate the bright young woman you will be, Bridie.

  “It’s very nice,” I said. “I don’t know the poems of Walt Whitman. When I was growing up we didn’t study American poets, just Tennyson and Keats and all those English fellows.”

  “He’s very good,” Bridie said. “He says lovely things.”

  “You’ll have to read some of them to me while I’m doing the Christmas baking.”

  “All right.” She smiled. “But I want to help with the baking too.”

  “Of course. You’ll need to know how to bake.” And immediately I wished I hadn’t said that. Would she find herself as little mother to Seamus and her brother, the same way I was? Would they expect her to keep house for them and give up on her schooling? I made a resolution that whatever happened, I was going to have a word with Seamus to make sure he understood that he had an intelligent daughter and he needed to make sure she was properly educated.

  Daniel returned that evening saying that he wasn’t quite sure about his welcome at police headquarters. Some of the older officers were clearly glad to see him, but overall the reception wasn’t exactly warm. He’d just have to see. The next day I promised Bridie we’d start the baking and maybe go shopping for presents too. I thought perhaps she’d like to knit a scarf for Sid and Gus.

  She nodded. “Something to remember me by,” she said.

  “I know,” I said. “When Captain Sullivan is free let’s do what we did last year. We’ll take the trolley. Look at the decorated windows at Macy’s department store and FAO Schwarz toy store, then play in the snow at Central Park and finish up with a hot chocolate at the Viennese coffeehouse on Fifth Avenue.”

  “All right. Liam would like that,” she agreed, but without enthusiasm.

  “Is there anything you’d like to do to make this Christmas special?” I asked.

  “Stay here,” she replied, turning away from me.

  I think we might have both ended up hugging each other in tears again, but we were interrupted by the plop of a letter landing on the doormat.


  “Someone has written to us,” Bridie said as she ran down the hall. “It can’t be Miss Walcott yet, because they only went away yesterday. Maybe it’s my father to say he’s changed his mind.…” She picked up the envelope. “It’s from Mrs. Sullivan,” she said, holding it up.

  “That was quick,” I replied. “Perhaps she wants to tell us how lovely it all is.”

  I saw that the letter was addressed to Captain and Mrs. Sullivan and wondered if I should wait for Daniel to open it, but then I reasoned it would just be a few lines, maybe thanking us for looking after her. Maybe even some money to spend for Christmas. I tore open the envelope and was slightly disappointed when no money or check fell out.

  “What does it say?” Bridie asked.

  I started to read. “‘My dear ones,’” I read. “‘Well, I arrived safely and was made extremely welcome by Florence and her niece Winnie, who seems to be a most sweet young woman. I had been expecting a large house party, and was surprised to find that I was the only guest, apart from family members. Aside from Mr. and Mrs. Van Aiken, the homeowners, it is just my friend, an elderly great-aunt of Mr. Van Aiken’s, and Winnie’s father, Mr. Carmichael. Rather a somber crowd, if you want my opinion. Florence obviously was feeling the same way because she brightened up immediately when I told her about you and Liam and Bridie, and immediately suggested that you come to join us. Obviously it is not her house and I was uncomfortable with this suggestion, but she put it to Winnie and that sweet girl was quite enthusiastic. She thought that more young people were just what was needed and urged me to write to you. So if you could bear to leave your friends in the city and come up to Greenbriars, it would make two old ladies extremely happy.

  “‘Winnie says you are to come as soon as you like. There is plenty of room. And if you send a telegram to say on which train you will be arriving at Scarborough station, the carriage will meet you. Do come. I miss little Liam already and I’m sure his bright little face will cheer the hearts of all present.’”

  “Do we have to go?” Bridie looked at me with a worried little face.

  “You don’t want to? It would be an adventure going to a grand house for Christmas.”

  She shook her head. “I won’t know how to behave and I’m sure I’ll pick up the wrong fork or something.”

  I rather wished she hadn’t brought that up. My first reaction had been the excitement of being part of a big, fancy gathering for the holiday. Now I was a trifle ambivalent myself. I was certainly disappointed about facing Christmas alone, without my friends. But the thought of that carriage made me feel the same way Bridie was feeling. Would I want to be the sole interlopers at a family gathering in a mansion? Would I know which fork to use?

  The matter was decided for me as soon as Daniel read the letter. “How very kind of them,” he said.

  “Do you really want to go? Do you think we should? Wouldn’t it be intruding?” I asked. I think I was hoping he’d agree with me and want to stay home.

  “Of course we must go,” he said. “I suspect that my mother is still feeling frail and would welcome having her dear ones there with her. Perhaps the distances one has to walk in a house like that are really too much for her, but she’s too proud to ask for assistance. You know what she’s like.”

  “She has taken Ivy with her for that very purpose,” I said.

  “Ivy?”

  “You know—the girl she’s taken in from the orphanage. You met her when you came to visit.”

  “So I did. Quiet little thing. How is she working out?”

  “Well enough, I think. She seems bright and willing to please and your mother is quite taken with her. She’ll probably wind up being another Bridie, being groomed for society.” Of course the moment I said those words, expecting them to be a jest, I remembered. Bridie would be gone and Ivy could never take her place.

  Daniel saw my expression falter. He patted my hand. “It will be good for all of us to have a carefree time. No cooking or baking for you. No worry for me. I’ll send a telegram this afternoon. Do you think we can be ready to go tomorrow?”

  “We can’t go without presents,” I said. “I haven’t done any shopping yet. I have nothing for any of you, or for your mother.”

  “She won’t really expect…” Daniel began in the way of men who find presents superfluous.

  “Of course she’ll expect,” I said. “We have to get something for your mother, and for her friend Florence and presumably for the family.”

  “We’re not millionaires,” Daniel said. “Surely they realize that.”

  “Just little tokens,” I said. “But we can’t go empty-handed.”

  He sighed. “Very well. We’d better go shopping tomorrow then, and leave for this place the day after. What was the name of it again?”

  “The house, or more accurately the mansion, is called Greenbriars,” I said. “In a place called Scarborough. I think it’s on the Hudson, isn’t it?”

  “Scarborough!” He chuckled. “No wonder Mother was excited about receiving an invitation there. Plenty of fine houses in that neck of the woods. Roosevelts, Astors. It will be an experience for all of us. What is the name of the family again?”

  “Van Aiken,” I said. “One of the old Dutch families, according to your mother.”

  “Van Aiken,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “Now why does that name ring a bell?”

  * * *

  The next morning I bundled up Liam and we headed out into the city. It had snowed again during the night and Patchin Place lay pristine under a thin mantle of white, like a scene from a Christmas card. Having been stuck in the country for so long, I was unused to the hustle and bustle of the city and stared at the decorated shopwindows, the stalls of holly and mistletoe, and the bands of carol singers, as if I was a country bumpkin newly arrived from the back of beyond. We rode the trolley up Broadway, crammed in with excited shoppers and their packages. Even Bridie cheered up, tugging at my sleeve to look at mechanical figures of skaters in Macy’s store windows. Liam was loving it all, carried high on Daniel’s shoulders. We bought a shawl for Daniel’s mother and embroidered handkerchiefs for her friend Florence, and then made our way across to Fifth Avenue and that spectacular toy store, FAO Schwarz. Approaching it and seeing the men dressed up as toy soldiers outside, I felt a jolt of excitement, and for a moment I was a child again. Daniel and Liam watched with enchantment the toy railway that ran around the whole store. Bridie eyed the dolls. Then, in a stroke of genius, I spotted the jigsaw puzzles. Now that would be the perfect present to take to the family we were staying with. It would be something to keep everyone occupied over the holiday. Then I spotted a dear little wooden horse and cart that would be perfect for Liam’s present. He’d love to transport his blocks in it.

  During the night I had thought long and hard about what I could buy for Bridie. I wanted to give her something to remember us by. In the end I sent Daniel off with the children into Central Park to throw snowballs while I went in search of Bridie’s gift. I paused to gaze at the windows of Tiffany & Co., then reluctantly walked past and found a little jewelry store on a less prestigious side street. And inside that store I found the perfect gift. It was a little silver locket. I’d put our pictures inside it with a lock of Liam’s hair, so that she wouldn’t forget us. Then I doubled back to the toy store for Liam’s horse and cart. That left Daniel. Men are always impossible to buy for. But I had been saving housekeeping money while I lived with Mrs. Sullivan and had come up with a brilliant idea. I would buy him a Brownie camera. He could record our son’s progress. So I found a camera shop and came out with a Brownie II, the latest model, made in aluminum and costing all of $2.75, as well as a roll of film. Then, feeling satisfied with everything I’d accomplished, I went to find my dear ones having a rare old time in the park. By this time they were all liberally coated with snow and welcomed my suggestion of a hot chocolate before we returned home.

  “Were you successful?” Daniel asked me.

  I nodded. “
Very.” For once I was feeling pleased with myself.

  “Then I’ll take you and the children home and you can pack for us while I run a few errands of my own,” Daniel said, giving me a mysterious smile.

  I went through agonies debating what items of our clothing might be suitable for a smart Christmas gathering. Alas, there were not many. I had owned a couple of good dresses passed down from Gus, but they had gone up in flames when our house was bombed. I had then been given some lovely clothes by a kind friend, but they had been lost in the San Francisco earthquake and fire. It seemed whenever I had something I cared about it was taken from me again. Perhaps I was destined to remain simple and humble. It was probably my mother’s doing, from her perch in heaven. She always did tell me I was getting above myself and would come to a bad end!

  So I packed the best of what remained and by that night we had the suitcases ready in the front hall. It was a good thing I hadn’t stocked up on too much food. My life seemed to be in constant motion these days. I wondered when we’d ever settle in one place and enjoy some tranquility. This was clearly a great change of heart from my younger days when I craved excitement, travel, and change. But I had been through so much of it recently, so much uncertainty and, yes, so much danger, that I wanted nothing more than a life of family routine. And a chance to feel safe again and to look forward to the future.

  Five

  The journey to Scarborough was delightful. More snow must have fallen out here in the countryside; a white wintery landscape greeted us as the train left the city behind. Ice had piled up in shining mounds at the edges of the Hudson, but it wasn’t completely frozen over. I wondered if it ever did freeze completely during severe winters. I asked Daniel but he didn’t seem to think so. Bridie wondered if they had toboggans and a hill at Greenbriars. Liam looked out of the train window, enjoying the speed.

  “No,” he said. I wondered what he was refusing until I realized he was saying, “Snow.”