A Christmas Miracle Read online

  While he had been a little leery of this unknown uncle, the prospect of leaving the orphanage was his biggest dream. And to get to own a dog and ride horses, well, Tony had almost wet himself in excited anticipation. Ernie told him they had to keep it quiet, sneak out to meet the uncle so the Sisters didn't find out. Since he now considered Ernie his best friend, he happily followed the man, not concerned that they were using a back entrance to the orphanage. After all, Ernie said the Sisters would be upset. When he realized it was dark outside, he started to worry. He didn’t like being outside alone at night. But surely his brand new friend would protect—

  Before he finished the thought, the man grabbed him and slapped tape across his mouth so Tony couldn't scream. He tried to fight and then felt a sharp prick in his arm. Although he wanted to do nothing but to prove how tough he was and fight Ernie off, to get back to the sanctuary of the school, his muscles instantly began to relax and he was unable to resist. He had a hard time keeping his eyes open.

  As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he couldn’t focus on where he was. What was Ernie doing? He was supposed to be his friend. He thought about screaming in hopes the Sisters could hear him—even though he was sure he’d get the whipping of his life—but suddenly he was dropped roughly to the ground. He forced his lids open to glimpse the faces of what he thought had to be two guardian angels.

  Who he now knew to be Elizabeth Bennett and William Dempsey! The two people that had not only rescued him from God only knew what, they’d ensured he was safely back inside the orphanage. Before his head cleared enough to thank them, they were gone.

  He awoke the next morning in his bed, his head pounding and his throat dry. He tried to tell the Sisters what happened but they refused to believe him. He even had proof–the needle mark. They scoffed, insisted it was probably a bee sting. Then they showed him a note he supposedly wrote, saying he was running away. He hadn't written any such note but they didn't believe that either. They accused him of staging the whole episode in a desperate bid for attention.

  Their lack of trust stung. Yes, he was an admitted troublemaker, but he was no liar. Even at that young age, when children were to be loved and protected, he’d lost complete faith in them after that. He made good on the fake note and ran away that same day, never looking back.

  Oh, certainly he was caught and shipped to another orphanage in another state, but by then something within him had changed. Living on the streets toughens you up pretty fast—no matter how old you are. He just wanted to belong. Tired of running and hungry, he behaved as best he could—he wasn’t about to run away and have to live on the streets again—and managed to squeak through his adolescence until he joined the Army as soon as he was old enough.

  That had been exactly what he’d needed. Though Bootcamp had about killed him, it had also shaped him for the man he was to become.

  After completing a four-year stint in the military, he graduated at the top of his class from the police academy and quickly climbed the ranks to make detective last year. When he first received his badge, he’d used his free time and police resources to try to locate the two people who had saved his life. He wanted to thank them, let them know it was because of them he’d dedicated his life to helping others. Yet, he’d run into one brick wall after another. Turned out the orphanage had closed six months after he ran away and Sister Rose passed away soon after. He couldn't recall the names of any of the other nuns. So, despite his frustration, he never discovered what had become of his two rescuers.

  When he started digging, he’d unearthed information verifying eight other boys had disappeared from the orphanage before him and three after. Had the Sisters believed him that fateful night, the authorities might have saved those three boys from the same horrific fate that had been planned for him that night.

  Before he’d been saved by two mysterious strangers.

  Even after all these years, he shuddered at the thought.

  He glanced at the picture in front of him with a deep pang of regret. Now he knew what happened to his rescuers…they clearly died trying to stop Ernie.

  Tony pounded his fist on the table. “I owe my life to you.” He closed his eyes a moment, then raised the two pictures to look at them closely. “With every breath I have left within me, I vow to you I’ll find Ernie or whatever his name was, dead or alive, and make him pay.”

  ~*~

  “Do you remember details of that night?” Will asked cautiously. “The night we died?”

  Lizzy’s eyes widened. “We discovered who’d been kidnapping boys from the orphanage.”

  Will nodded slowly. “One of the kids confided in me when we visited for our weekly tutoring session. He said eight boys had disappeared and he was afraid he’d be next."

  A tear slipped down Lizzy’s cheek before she continued the story. "We tried talking to the Sisters but they were too naïve, insisted the boys were run-aways. Said they’d left notes, but we knew better. So we started investigating."

  "It was personal to us since we’d grown up there. We knew all the hiding places. God showed us the perfect one, so we hid there and waited. And sure enough, we finally spotted the man grab a little boy.”

  “Anthony,” Lizzy murmured.

  Will nodded. “Thank God we were able to get him away from that monster before he could harm him.”

  That they hoped Anthony had remained unharmed was left unsaid.

  “After we took the poor child inside, we raced to your car and headed to the police station to report what had happened, but the man was waiting in ambush. He sped after us, and ran us off the road and into the lake.” Lizzy shuddered. “Oh, Will. I was so afraid that night. I couldn’t have gotten out of the car without your help.”

  “For all the good it did us. He shot us as we tried to escape.”

  They both stared out over the lake that looked so calm and peaceful now below a layer of ice, but had served as their watery graves. Will pulled Lizzy into his arms. “I love you, Lizzy, always.”

  She buried her head against his chest. “I love you, Will, forever.”

  After a moment, he asked, “Do you remember who it was that stole those boys…and then took our lives?”

  She lifted her head and gazed into his brown eyes, her expression pained. “Ernest March. The mayor.”

  ~3~

  Something flashing over Will’s shoulder caught Lizzy's attention. “Look at that clock on the bank. The date.”

  Will twisted around, his muscles tensing. “How is that possible? That means…”

  “We’ve been dead for twenty years,” Lizzy finished.

  They stood transfixed, watching the garland decorated digital clock blink between the time, date and temperature.

  "Why, after all this time, are we here now?” Will asked almost to himself.

  The cold Lizzy felt had nothing to do with the plummeting temperatures. Slowly she shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  Will suddenly grabbed her hand and towed her through the snow covered park to the street. “Look.” He indicated a newspaper dispenser, the latest edition visible through the glass display. “Governor Ernest March Announces Bid for Presidency.”

  “He was never caught!” She turned to clutch Will's shirt. “Oh, Will, how many other boys do you think he harmed in all these years?”

  Will's jaw clenched tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “I don’t know, but we have to do something. We have to make him pay for his crimes.”

  "He targeted boys who had no family, no one to worry if they suddenly disappeared and never returned home."

  "They have us," he said with marked determination.

  “That’s why we’re here,” she said firmly. “To make sure he’s stopped once and for all. I don’t understand it, but we must have been in some kind of suspended state, unable to rest or find peace while he continued stealing and most likely abusing children.”

  Will frowned, thinking. "If that’s the case, why did it take twenty years for us to ret
urn? That's a long time. So much could happen in that span of time.” Suddenly he snapped his fingers, the conclusion clear. “I’ve got it! Someone is trying to help us.”

  Lizzy's head tilted to the side. “What? What do you mean? Who could know about us?”

  “Remember that small law firm I interned with my junior year?” When Lizzy nodded in acknowledgement, he continued. “They sent me to the police station to research a cold case. I remember sitting in that damp, dark basement, thinking how sad it was that these people died while their killers remained alive, roaming free and clear.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “Ernest March was never caught, which means our murders were never solved. We're a cold case. Someone pulled our file.”

  Hope crossed Lizzy’s face and then quickly vanished. “Who will ever believe us? We supposedly died years ago and Ernest March went from mayor to governor. If people didn’t approve of him, like him even, he would have never been elected or stayed in office for so long.”

  Will grasped her hand. “We need to get to the police station and make sure someone believes us and puts that scumbag away for life.”

  “What if the station has moved? It's been two decades and look how much in this town has changed.” She swiped a hand to encompass the surrounding area. "How will we find it?”

  “I’ll ask this man if he can direct us there. Excuse me, sir.” The man ignored him and kept walking. Will frowned. “That was rude. He acted like he didn’t even hear me.”

  “He didn’t,” Lizzy whispered.

  Will’s gaze snapped to hers. “What are you talking about?”

  “I tried speaking to someone before you arrived and she ignored me completely.”

  His eyes widened as understanding dawned. “You mean…”

  “We’re invisible,” she finished sadly.

  ~4~

  “Let’s assume the police station is in the same building." Will glanced around, trying to gather his bearings. "If I remember correctly, it’s not far from here. There must be something we can do to convince someone, anyone, to believe our story.”

  They started walking, neither speaking as they pondered the tough task in front of them and marveled at all the changes in the past twenty years.

  Dark clouds swirled ominously overhead, a fierce wind rattled tree branches, knocking snow from the limbs as they approached a busy street and Will continued walking. Lizzy yanked her hand from his and stopped. “Will…a bus!”

  She didn’t even have time to scream when the driver made no attempt to slow. She was about to cover her eyes when Will turned, waiting for her. The bus hit him…no…wait, it passed right through him.

  Glumly, she stepped into the street, not even checking for traffic. “We are ghosts,” she whispered, slipping her hand back into his.

  The sidewalks were packed with people, unaware they were in the presence of two specters walking among the living. Men and women carried bags full of toys and wrapped presents, smiles on their faces as they hurried home to their loved ones at this most blessed time of the year.

  "It's Christmas Eve," Lizzy murmured, recalling the date on the bank clock.

  Will squeezed her hand in comfort. “Christmas was always your favorite time of year.”

  “I know. Even though I didn't have parents or grandparents, brothers or sisters to share it with, I had you. We always made it a festive, fun-filled day.”

  Their first Christmas together when she was five, Will noticed how sad she was to be spending the holiday alone, so he snuck into the woods behind the orphanage and brought her back a small, sickly tree–the only one he could get without a shovel. It was the best present she’d ever received. They strung popcorn together and created homemade ornaments to decorate the little sapling. Lizzy had to keep it in her closet so the nuns wouldn't confiscate it. As they grew and eventually moved on to college, they kept up their traditions. They would sing carols and open presents, usually ones they made themselves, and laugh. So much laughter and joy. She’d spent almost her entire life with Will…as it now appeared she was doing in death. God was so good to keep them together.

  She had saved every single card, poem and gift he’d ever given her–even needles from that first sapling. They were her treasures. With a sad jolt, she wondered what happened to the box of her most prized possessions. It had probably been tossed in the garbage, callously thrown away like yesterday's news. She glanced at her left hand and sighed in relief. She still wore the ring Will had slipped on her finger the day he’d asked her to marry him.

  They approached Hepburn's Department Store, famous for decorating their huge picture window with a different, intricate scene each Christmas. People travelled from all across the state to glimpse their creations, each year seeming to outdo the one before.

  In silent, mutual agreement, they stopped, transfixed. In front of them was a model of Bedford Springs, looking exactly as it had twenty years ago, before urban growth transformed the community. "Will, look—" Lizzy pointed to the model—“there’s a miniature reproduction of Mr. Fillamore's produce stand.” A tear slid down her face unheeded. All the years she and Will had been gone instantly slipped away. Twenty years seemed like just yesterday. The scene even sported a replica of Winston Lake. A train chugged along a set of tracks that used to run through the center of town, steam pouring from a smoke stack, a whistle tooting merrily. There were working railroad crossing lights and bars, stoplights and cross-walk signs. The old green water tower was represented, along with the movie theater, even St. Jerome Emiliani's orphanage where they’d met and fell in love. She and Will could have had such a wonderful life. They could have gotten married like she’d always planned. Would probably have children by now. But all that had been taken away—stolen—by a hateful man called Ernie. A man she and Will somehow had to stop.

  "Lizzy."

  At Will's urgent tone, her musings ended and she followed his gaze. Her mouth dropped open. The scene included tiny people milling about, some strolling down the street, some looking in windows or driving small cars. But the figurines Will pointed to—those of a man and woman sitting on the bench beside Winston Lake—looked exactly like them, down to the clothes they wore the day they died.

  ~*~

  Neither Will nor Lizzy spoke after the spooky discovery in Hepburn's Department Store window. There had been no doubt they were the young couple on the bench. How could it be possible?

  “There’s the police station,” Will announced after they walked a few blocks. A jolly man in a Santa suit stood by a red kettle, ringing a bell and offering up a "ho, ho, ho" to all who passed. Some people stopped to drop coins into the bucket, others simply ignored him, hurrying on their way. Lizzy had always put money in the container, even when she didn't have change to spare. It made her feel good. Fumbling into her pocket, she fingered a lone penny. She had no idea how it could be there, and it wasn't much, but she would make a wish when she dropped it into the bucket.

  After all, miracles happened on Christmas, didn't they? That’s what the Sisters had always told them.

  Saying a silent prayer that she and Will would be able to stop Ernest March before he could harm anyone again, she slipped the coin into the slot.

  "No act of kindness, no matter how small is ever wasted," Santa remarked, repeating Aesop's famous line. "The merriest of Christmases to you, Elizabeth. Your wishes are about to come true.” She smiled fondly, hoping he was right, and followed Will up the concrete steps into the police station.

  They passed through a revolving door that failed to revolve with their presence and stopped abruptly. A huge machine blocked entry into the station. "This wasn't here last time I visited," Will noted. They watched as a man emptied contents from his pockets and then stepped through the arched doorway.

  "It's a metal detector like they have at airports. I remember seeing one of them on television once.”

  "I wonder why they need one in the lobby of the police station." He pulled a face. “I wonder what other changes have happened i
n the world since we departed.”

  Will tugged Lizzy's hand and guided her forward. "I guess this will be a real test of our mortality." They slipped right through, undetected. A German shepherd rested on the floor waiting to sniff suspicious packages. His head lifted and he scented the air with a whimper. Will ran his hand over the dog's fur and it resettled on the floor with a doggy sigh as they drifted away.

  Lizzy jerked to a stop forcing Will to halt as well.

  He glanced at her. "What is it, Lizzy?” His hands grasped her upper arms, his eyes raked her with concern. "You’re pale." It was a pretty funny thing to say to a ghost, but Lizzy couldn't find the humor in that statement at the moment.

  "Will! The man outside dressed as Santa Claus. Remember when I dropped my penny inside his kettle? He could see me.”

  Will’s brows scrunched into a frown as he looked at her. “Lizzy, what are you talking about? We’re ghosts. No one can see us.”

  “He could. I don’t know how, but he could. He thanked me for putting a penny in the kettle. He knew me, Will. He knew my name."

  Will's eyes widened and then narrowed in determination. "You’re right! Come on.” He tugged her back through the security booth. They bypassed the crowded revolving door, choosing to slip through the brick wall to save time.

  Lizzy slowly rotated in a complete circle, her shoulders slumping in dejection. "He's gone. He was right there.” She pointed to an empty spot on the sidewalk.

  Will wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her head. "I saw him, too, Lizzy. You weren't imagining anything. He called you Elizabeth.” They stayed that way for a long time, watching people pass by, heading home with their treasures. Bags full of gifts to make tomorrow the happiest of days.

  Finally Will inclined his head toward the building and she nodded. He guided them back inside, past security to the stairwell that led to the basement. There were a few officers milling about, one moving boxes from a room marked records, another drinking a cup of coffee. No one so much as flinched as they whispered by.