Page 56 of The Neighborhood Ghost

He expertly navigated the winding path, no small feat for a large sleigh pulled by eight reindeer. The pathway was dark, but the reindeer knew where to go. They navigated easily, dodging the occasional errant branch. The sleigh came within inches of touching the ground, but in the hands of an expert, it was no cause for concern.

“It’s right up there,” Alice said, pointing to the curve in the pathway. “Right past the curve.”

“Whoa!” Santa yelled as he pulled back on the reins. “Whoa.”

The sleigh glided to a stop in mid-air before gently touching down onto the ground. Off to their side was the opening to an alcove. The same alcove where Hugo had proposed to Elizabeth many years ago. The same alcove where Alice and Hugo had their playful banter a few months before.

‘You’re telling me that . . . that tree back there is a fairy tree?’ Hugo’s words remained fresh in her mind.

She fixated her eyes into the darkened space. Her heart skipped a beat. She held her breath. They were close. They were closer than ever to bringing Hugo home.

“Is that it?” Santa pointed to the alcove opening.

Alice sprung to her feet, swinging the black satchel behind her. “It is. Thank you, Nick. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Anytime, my dear. It’s Christmas. It’s what I do,” he replied.

One by one, they filed out of the sleigh. A sharp breeze passed through the pathway. Carol pulled tightly on her winter coat.

“Santa, it’s been a pleasure,” Oliver said. He pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “If you’re ever in town, feel free to stop by Raskin’s Neighborhood Market. We have the finest?—”

“The finest selection of wine in the state. How do you know I haven’t already been?” Santa asked with a wink as he took the card.

“Nick, as always, it’s a pleasure,” Ez said as she released Guinevere. “I look forward to seeing you two soon.”

“We’ll be there. Hopefully celebrating your success,” he said. “Oh, Alice . . .”

“Yeah, Nick?”

“Tell the Oaken King he’s welcome to visit any time. It’s time to mend fences. After all, it’s Christmas.” Santa grabbed the reins, and with a snap of his wrists, he flew away in a flash.

“No one is going to believe this,” Oliver said.

Max pulled on her leash, recognizing the pathway and wanting to continue a journey she and Hugo had taken many times.

Alice took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A crisp wind picked up. The darkness of the alcove held its secrets. The trees thrashed back and forth in the December wind, their branches clacking against each other. A shiver ran up Alice’s back. She tugged at the lapel of her black modern Victorian tailcoat.

“Did it get colder?” Carol asked as she buried her hands in the pockets of her winter coat.

“It did. Something is trying to keep us away,” Ez said.

“Gwennie,” Alice said. “Come here.”

The ash tree broomstick floated closer. With a snap of her finger, a light illuminated from the end of the broomstick.

“This should help,” Alice added. “Follow me and watch your step. We don’t need any twisted ankles.”

She proceeded into the alcove with her broomstick lighting the way. One by one, they followed the same safe path. The fallen leaves mixed with snow crunched under their feet. Off in the distance, an owl hooted. With each step, the hairs on Alice’s arms stood. Her heart beat against her chest, its thump growing more intense with every step toward the tree.

A solitary ash tree, the founder’s tree, stood in the center of the alcove as if all other trees around it shied away from the ancient tree. It was cracked and gnarled, weathered with age, but it still gave a strong appearance. The tree was much older than those around it. It stood strong against the dark of night. Stones gathered at its base, forming a ring around the tree. A solitary green leaf still held onto a branch. It had all the markings of a fairy tree. Hopefully, it was still active.

“So, what do we do?” Oliver asked.

Alice approached the tree. Max barked, wanting to join Alice, but Oliver held her back. Alice placed a hand on the trunk. Her fingertips nestled into the cracked grooves.

“I call on the Oaken King to allow us to pass into his fairy kingdom,” Alice proclaimed.

There was only the sound of the breeze and crackling tree branches.

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