The Christmas Box by Richard Paul Evans Read Free Book Online

to which I had grown accustomed, seemed to be affected.
    The music played for me again, bu t i ts tone had changed to a poignan t n ew strain. Whether it had actuall y c hanged, or I, affected by the day' s e vents, just perceived the alteration, I don't know, but like the siren's song , again it drew me to the Christmas Bo x a nd the next letter.
    December 6, 1916
    My Beloved One.
    Another Christmas season ha s c ome. The time of joy and peace. Ye t h ow great a void still remains in m y h eart. They say that time heals al l w ounds. But even as wounds heal the y l eave scars, token reminders of th e p ain. Remember me, my love. Remember my love.
    Sunday morning, Christmas Eve, th e s now fell wet and heavy and ha d a lready piled up nearly four inches b y a fternoon when Steve met me nea r t he mansion's front porch.
    "How's Mary today?" he asked.
    "About the same. She had a ba d b out of nausea this morning but otherwise was in pretty good spirits. Ker i a nd Jenna are still at the hospital wit h h er now."
    He nodded in genuine concern.
    "Well, let's go," he said sadly. "It will b e g ood for you to see this."
    We crossed the street and togethe r c limbed the steep drive to his home.
    Still unaware of our destination, I followed him around to his backyard.
    The yard was filled with large cottonwood trees and overgrown eucalyptus shrubs. It was well secluded by a h igh stone wall that concealed th e c emetery I knew to be behind it.
    "There's a wrought-iron gate behind those bushes over there," Stev e s aid, motioning to a hedge near th e w all. "About forty years ago the owne r h ere planted that hedge to concea l t he access to the cemetery. He wa s a n older man and didn't like the ide a o f looking out into it each day. M y f amily moved here when I was twelv e y ears old. It didn't take us boys lon g t o discover the secret gate. We hollowed out the hedge so that we coul d e asily slip into the cemetery from it.
    We were frequently warned by th e s exton never to play in the cemetery , but we did, every chance we got.
    We'd spend hours there," Steve confided. "It was the ideal place for hideand-seek."
    We reached the gate. The pain t h ad chipped and cracked from th e c old, rusted steel, but the gat e r emained strong and well secured. A padlock held it shut. Steve produce d a key and unlocked the gate. I t s creeched as it swung open. W e e ntered the cemetery.
    "One winter day we were playin g h ide-and-seek about here. I was hiding from my friend when he saw m e a nd started to chase. I ran though th e s now up to the east end of the cemetery; it was an area where we neve r p layed. One of our friends swore h e h ad heard the wailing of a ghost u p t here and we decided the place wa s h aunted. You know how kids are."
    I nodded knowingly as we trudge d o n through the deepening snow.
    "I ran up through there," he sai d p ointing to a clump of thick-stumpe d e vergreens, "then up behind the mausoleum. There, as I crouched behin d a tombstone, I heard the wailing.
    Even muffled in the snow it wa s h eart-wrenching. I looked up over th e s tone. There was a statue of an ange l a bout three feet high with out-
    stretched wings. It was new at th e t ime and freshly whitewashed. On the ground before it knelt a woman, he r f ace buried in the snow. She was sobbing as if her heart were breaking.
    She clawed at the frozen ground as i f i t held her from something sh e w anted desperately--more than anything. It was snowing that day and m y f riend, following my tracks, soo n c aught up to me. I motioned to him t o b e quiet. For more than a half hour w e s at there shivering and watching i n s ilence as the snow completel y e nveloped her. Finally she was silent , stood up, and walked away. I'll neve r f orget the pain in her face."
    Just then I stopped abruptly. Fro m a distance I could see the outsprea d w ings of the weather-worn statue o f a n angel. "My angel," I muttered audibly. "My stone angel."
    Steve glanced at