Page 53 of Meet Me at Christmas
The jeweler, Edward James, couldn’t let the diamond go without knowing its entire history. He believed the fate of the diamond could be different, and he hired a detective to help him find the merchant, Charles Worley, to tell him. Mr. Worley hadn’t gotten far, settling in a remote area of Rhode Island, but when Edward’s detective located the home, he was met by an estate agent who was packing the man’s things. To his disappointment, the merchant had just died.
Worried the diamond might fall into the wrong hands, Edward went to pay his respects. While there, he searched the rooms, found the trunk, and pocketed the diamond. He was thought to have gone to London briefly, where he’d hidden it away. He returned to Boston, and his detective located the Hastings family who’d originally lost it. He began to investigate the history of the diamond under the guise of writing a newspaper article about it. It was during his time with the family and others in the city where he learned the true story of the diamond—the account we have today—which he’d written down in his journal.
However, Edward James’s strong faith led him to a different conclusion about the diamond, which he also wrote down in his journal. His core belief was that we’re all made of love, as is everything in the universe, so if we want good luck from the diamond, we have to treat it with love. He likened the diamond to a stowaway or a lost child, and vowed to give it with intention and to proclaim that it was a token of only love. When he married, he retrieved it from its hiding place in London and gave it to his soon-to-be wife. He made his intentions clear and told her it was not just any symbol, but a physical representation of the love he had for her. The journal ended with that last entry, and no one knows the exact fate of the couple or the diamond. Some accounts say they lived happily ever after.
“Maybewehave it now,” Mama said with a wink.
Stella shook her head. “I doubt it very seriously.”
But even though their necklace was probably nothing special, it was nice to see her mother interested in something. It seemed to fill the silence that had permeated the house since they’d lost Pop.
Sixteen
Later that afternoon, Stella was feeling nostalgic. She left early for Mr. Ferguson’s therapy session and took a detour into town. When she reached the diner she used to work at, she pulled into the parking lot and got out. She put her mittened hands on her hips and took in the snow-dusted, one-street village, thinking about Pop and her life here.
This sleepy town had been her whole world before she packed up and left for Stanford. Its quirks had been her every day. She recalled long mornings spent with Lily and Pop at the farmers market on weekends while Mama cleaned the house, and then they’d bring down their biggest quilt and settle in the grass at the Lawn Chair Theater, an old log structure with curling vines adorning its walls, to hear the up-and-coming Nashville musicians who were usually only one signature away from absolute stardom.
“It’s good to be home, isn’t it?”She heard Pop’s voice in her head as if he were walking beside her. He’d said that every time they came back to Leiper’s Fork after leaving for any amount of time. She could still feel the warmth of his genuine delight when he returned to their little town.
“It is good, Pop,” she said quietly as she paced down the street, past the local art gallery, heading toward the woods where she and Pop liked to search for honeysuckle in the summers. “I miss you so much.”
“I’ll never leave.”The memory of his return after one particular beach vacation surfaced, making her smile.“Five days is enough time to be away,”he’d said.“I’ll never leave.”
Wishing Pop could be there to hold her hand like he had when she was a girl, she kept walking along the edge of the woods, as far as she could go, and then made her way back to the sidewalk, past the local bar, the boutiques selling the latest in western wear, and a couple of lunch spots she and Lily used to visit together. All their windows glittered with shiny holiday decor.
Not only had she given up Henry, but she’d pushed away the absolute charm of this town, and she appreciated it so much more, now, after being gone.
“I wish you could be with us, this Christmas,” she whispered to Pop, praying he could hear her and know how much they loved him. With a weight on her heart, she walked back to her car and started her second trip of the day to Nashville.
* * *
After a briefing with Dr. Astley, Stella arrived at Mr. Ferguson’s therapy room. The contrast to her first experience with her last subject was stark. The room was quiet, decorated the same way, with a sofa by the window that sat on the edge of a small rug. Two chairs were placed opposite the sofa, where Mr. Ferguson sat beaming, his hand raised in greeting.
“Hello, there,” he said, leaning over to move his walker so she could get by, even though it wasn’t in the way. “Lovely to see you again.”
“Same.” Stella smiled and sat down in the back of the room, then retrieved her laptop.
Mr. Ferguson’s therapist, Ms. Barnes, walked in with her own small laptop. “Good afternoon,” she greeted them. “Herbert, this is Stella Fisher. Since you signed the release, she’ll be observing us for an article she’s writing forBrain Borders Magazine. Your name and all your information will be kept strictly confidential.”
“Yes, we met.” Mr. Ferguson wriggled his fingers for a second hello.
Stella smiled at the old man.
“Since we’re a few minutes early,” the therapist continued, “do you mind if I give Stella a little more background on your case before we get started?”
His bushy eyebrows bobbed, his old eyes sparkling. “Not at all.”
“Thank you.” The therapist sat down and twisted around toward Stella. “Herbert has what we call a mild cognitive impairment.”
Stella opened her laptop and pulled up a blank document, then started entering notes.
“We are watching his symptoms to make sure he isn’t experiencing the early onset of Alzheimer’s, which was his initial concern.”
“So far, so good,” Mr. Ferguson added brightly.
Stella gave him another grin and went back to her notes.
“He enrolled himself in the program due to concerns of general forgetfulness.” She addressed Mr. Ferguson. “Do you feel comfortable explaining your early symptoms to Stella?”
