Jackson - The Christmas Journal

The Christmas Journal

Kimberly B Jackson

Copyright 2014 Kimberly B. Jackson

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Cover Art by Joan Alley

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the authors imagination and used fictitiously.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If youre reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Published by Prism Book Group

ISBN-10: 1940099927 ISBN-13: 978-1-940099-92-7

First Edition, 2014

Published in the United States of America

Contact info:

http://www.prismbookgroup.com

PROLOGUE

Dusting furniture wasnt the type of gratification Ashley Moore craved in life. Since her return home, cleaning the old lodge had filled her days. Today felt different. Shed foregone the lodge, instead choosing her parents personal living quartersa small cabin a short distance from the lodge. Now, she faced the one room shed dreadedher parents old bedroom.

As she opened the door, dust particles floated in the air. Clearly, the room sat untouched since her mothers death. A layer of dust coated the furniturethick enough to write your name. A scent reminiscent of an old musky basement hung in the air. Pulling the closet door back, she realized her mothers clothes still hung as they had ten years ago.

I cant believe Dad hasnt removed anything in here, she said to herself as she ran her hands through her mothers clothes. Touching the decade-old clothes somehow made her feel closer to her mother. A sneeze escaped her.

Glancing to the left, she spotted her mothers jewelry box, something shed always loved to go through as a little girl. Lifting the top open, she gently picked up several of her mothers costume rings. How shed loved to play with them. Her eyes fixated on a silver cross necklace with a twenty-four inch length chain that her mother wore practically every day of her life. Unhooking the clasp, Ashley put on the necklace and looked at herself in the dusty mirror that hung above the dresser. A younger version of her mothers face stared back, so much alike, but different too. The same brunette hair and petite frame. The same small nose and brown eyes. But Ashley had her fathers mouth.

Drawing back the curtains released ten years of built-up dust that danced around the room as she struggled to open the somewhat uncooperative widows. The air outside was cold, but fresh, and necessary. It circulated throughout the room, sweeping away the gloom. As she exited the room, she closed the door.

Following a tense lunch of take-out pizza her father brought, she continued to choke on the questions she needed him to answer. She would surely gain courage to ask them sometime. With a sigh, she took a stepladder from the pantry, and returned to her mothers room. Stepping on the ladder, and with several forceful jerks, she pulled the curtains until shed unhooked the old, iron rod from the wall. Next, she collected the fallen material and placed it in a box. Soon after, she focused on the bed and with one pull, she yanked the bedspread and top sheet off, then removed the fitted sheet and pillowcases. As she cleared away the last pillowcase, something red caught her eye. Depositing the sheets and bedspread into the laundry basket, Ashley then returned to the bed, feeling the red, hard edge shed noticed under the mattress. With both hands she grasped the item, and with one great tug, an old, dusty red book appeared in her hands. Sweeping her fingers across the hard front revealed an imprint of a Christmas tree. Slowly, she opened the notebook, revealing well-worn, dingy paper. Faded, blue ink covered each delicate page, revealing her mothers elegant handwriting. Her eyes focused on the text, across the header of the first page. December 1, 2004. Exactly twenty-four days later, her mother died. Could she read her mothers personal thoughts? Tears welled in her eyes as she pulled the journal close to her chest. Would she find the answers shed always yearned to know? Could she invade her mothers privacy? Or was this her mothers way of communicating with her? December first, she read

CHAPTER ONE

Ashley wondered long and hard on what shed discover when she returned to her childhood home in the mountains of eastern Tennessee. Itd been ten years since shed laid eyes on her father. Hed sent her to live with her well-to-do great aunt at the age of eight. Shed spent most of the years in boarding schools, learning to become a proper lady with training in etiquette, as well as dance, tennis, and horseback lessons. Now, shed finished school, turned eighteen, and was no longer under the thumb of her Aunt Carol.

What shed find when she returned home remained uncertain. Her father had cut off communication with her, and her aunts only explanation was to tell her it would be better if she forgot about him. How could she possibly forget about the only parent she had left?

The road was still unpaved, and she drove through the bumpy, winding path to the small, log-frame home. Unclipped branches dangled over her car as she slowly maneuvered the long road. Lights appeared in the distance. Surely, her father hadnt kept the house adorned in the same Christmas decorations all this time. The car crept along to the front of the run-down home. Stopping the car, she took in the sight of the cabin and yard. Weathered Christmas decorations that had once been hung yearly were in disarray, lights missing or burned out, appearing untouched since shed left home. Pausing, she wondered why her father hadnt kept up the lawn, or for that matter, the log cabin. Hed always taken pride in his home and grounds before. But shed not seen or heard from her dad in ten years, aside from birthday and Christmas cards containing a bit of cash. Who knew what kind of man he was now? Exiting her car, she walked up to the small cabin her parents used as their personal home, and climbed the rickety stairs to the front porch. She reached for the doorknob, only to realize she was a practical stranger now, and she should knock instead. Doing so, she received no response. She walked over to the window and looked inside. Empty dishes were scattered on the table. His truck was in the driveway, so her dad had to be somewhere around. The logical place was the lodge, located a half a mile up the road.

Ashley grabbed the backpack from her car. Picking up a long branch, she broke off the excess twigs until she had a nice straight walking stick. Slowly, she started up the trail shed traveled nearly every day as a child.

She encountered an overgrown and untraveled trail as she headed to the lodge. Within minutes, she inhaled the aroma of honeysuckle as it blanketed the area. The sweet smell reminded her of the childhood years she spent playing in the woods. As the heat sweltered, she continued making her way through the thick brush, breaking any limbs she could along the way to clear the path. Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the lodge; ten minutes longer than the trail had typically taken her as a child. The overgrowth was clearly out of control, and Ashley decided that would be the first thing she tackled once she got settled. Slowly, she stepped to the porch, stopping only to look at the broken snowman sign thatd once welcomed visitors. With her hand on the doorknob and a slight hesitation, she opened the door.