The Tidings - [Ghost Huntress 0.5 - A Christmas Novella] by Marley Gibson Page A

rushing to get to work or check their e-mail. Carolers stand on the front steps of the Episcopal and Methodist churches in a bit of a merriment throw-down, trading songs of celebration. I see Kaitlin amongst those at Christ the Redeemer Holy Episcopal Church. She’s in her element, singing her heart out. I do notice that the hem of her dress appears frayed. Did I not do a good sewing job? I totally suck. But Kaitlin doesn’t seem to care. She’s the most brilliantly happy I’ve ever seen her. My chest pounds with pride at her accomplishment of starring in the Christmas pageant tonight. I really shouldn’t have been such a tart about supporting her and helping with her dress.
    Celia and I continue along, peeking in on the merchants on the Square opening for last minute shoppers. The flower shop with its yards and yards of greenery, red bows, and fully bloomed poinsettias. The coffee shop with its freshly brewed pots of caffeine to fuel the townspeople. The grocery store with its last-minute food items, baked goods, and various proteins that will soon be roasted, baked, deep-friend, and served to family and friends.
    Though I mostly despise the crass commercialism of the holiday season, I see a deeper need for it all of a sudden. These merchants provide a service to the families gathering together for their yearly celebration. There’s nothing wrong with a sale here, a special there. It’s all good.
    Time speeds before us as the people of Radisson move about in fast-forward motion like ants in a farm. Children saying their prayers and getting tucked in early in anticipation of Santa’s arrival. Parents with glasses reading instructional manuals on how to put together those bikes, Barbie houses, and set up Xbox systems and other electronics.
    Across town, though, my psychic senses pick up the cry of a family in need. One not so fortunate this holiday season.
    Suzanne Pilfer is sitting down at the dining room table with her daughter, Chandra, and grandson, Max, who’ve come to Radisson from Stone Mountain. Max… the one I had the premonition about. My bottom lip juts out, as I remember the tarot card reading. I should have told Miss Suzanne what I saw. A head’s up on a possibility of what might happen.
    “Let’s go see her, then, shall we?” Celia mentions.
    And like that… we’re instantly in the modest home of Radisson’s most dedicated postal worker, Suzanne Pilfer.
    I stand by and listen as Suzanne and her daughter speak softly, their heads bent together, while Max watches one of those predictable Disney Channel programs in the background.
    “I can’t tell him, Mother,” Chandra says. “It’ll break his heart.”
    Suzanne reaches across the table and pats her daughter’s hand. “Those bastards. Laying you off right before Christmas. They didn’t even give you severance?”
    Chandra shakes her head. “I was counting on that promised Christmas bonus to get Max the dirt bike he wants. I was going to go to Mega-Mart and get it off layaway where it’s been since August.” She plunges her hands into her thick hair and lets out a guttural moan. “How did it come to this? Stephen hasn’t paid child support in eight months and now this.”
    “It’ll be okay, sweetie,” Suzanne tells her. “I don’t have much, but I have some savings. I was going to use it to pay off some medical bills, but it’s more important that my grandson be taken care of. I’ll go down to the bank and get the cash out so we can get Max his present.”
    “I won’t let you do that, Mother.” Chandra heaves a sigh and reaches for a Kleenex. “This is my mess. My responsibility.”
    “But I’m your mother,” Suzanne says.
    “And I’m his,” her daughter responds.
    My heart hurts watching this, remembering the tarot cards showing me that the bike and an injury from it cause Max’s meningitis. I nudge Celia with my shoulder. “He shouldn’t get that bike. Is there something else we can help get them as a