Charlotte Dean Mysteries Collection

Chapter 12

The attempt to read the afternoon away failed miserably. Too much was swirling around in Charlotte’s mind, none of it welcome. After an hour of winding herself up even more, she decided she was hungry.

Creating a simple sandwich helped. The act of doing something productive let her brain clear some of the mixed-up thoughts and by the time she took it to the sofa, she was ready to work out what to do with the box.

Feet tucked under herself, Charlotte nibbled on lunch, eyes on the box as if expecting it to move on its own. Inside it were a whole lot of memories, and more than that, things she’d never had access to. The letters were from her mother, and to her mother. She’d seen them before but kept locked away in a box. And her mother didn’t speak of them. Never had.

Half of her wanted to reseal it and send it back.

Coward.

Coward.She put the plate down, lunch only part eaten.

It wasn’t cowardice to shy away from darkness if it scared you.

So, find a light.

So, find a light.Charlotte knew this was the right approach, but there wasn’t any light she could shine on it. Not yet. The best thing was to put it out of sight until she’d found a metaphorical light. And she would. If anything, Charlotte was expert at clever ways to create shields. At least, she was for other people when she was practicing psychiatry.

This reminded her of something a wise woman told her. Back in River’s End, she’d spent some time with Christie’s great-aunt Martha, a woman who’d lost the love of her life and found him again. For many years, she’d lived on the other side of the world, with little knowledge of events in her hometown. The arrival of a box of her possessions, accidentally left behind, came as a shock and she’d hidden it in a broom closet for years. Eventually, she’d revisited the memories and found strength in the once-beloved items.

“Better to deal with a problem when it happens.” Martha had told Charlotte over coffee. “Burying the past is the least effective way of finding happiness.”

Martha’s wisdom made sense. She’d find a way to take everything out of her box and inspect the past. Perhaps Martha would come and help her.

Charlotte folded the flaps down and carried the box into a spare bedroom. There, she left it on the bed and closed the door behind herself. Time to finish lunch.

“How pretty are you?” Charlotte stepped back from the tree with a smile. She’d been careful not to overload its sagging branches, but even with only a dozen baubles, the little pine brightened up the balcony. “I’m going to nurture you until you’re strong enough to plant, then we’ll find you somewhere special to grow into the tall, strong pine you are meant to be.”

She leaned on the balcony railing, gazing up at the hills. Apart from some cleared land around houses, the hills were covered with all types of trees. Pines overlooked the sports fields, then deciduous trees such as claret and golden ashes. Autumn must be so pretty. Gum trees of different species. The beautiful golden wattles stood out against the green and grey of the other trees.

Movement down the road caught her attention as a car and trailer pulled up outside Esther’s boutique. When Esther and Doug got out, Charlotte was relieved. Only them. And on the trailer was a pine tree, so they must have been up at the Christmas Tree farm. She watched for a few minutes as Doug untied the tree and then he and Esther carried it inside. How brave to continue and not allow the thief to frighten them.

And that’s how it’s done.

And that’s how it’s done.Shaking her head, she wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. Hopefully there would be no more silliness in town. People had enough to do leading up to Christmas without worrying about break-ins or vandals.

This was Charlotte’s first Christmas away from Queensland, at least since she was a small child. There were some vague, fleeting memories of a sparkling tree and a red ribboned present with her name on it, but little else. Her mother’s progressive illness and refusal to treat it forced Charlotte to grow up too soon. Dad was long gone, and Mum had no interest in any kind of celebration. Besides, there was never any money so presents were restricted to those her school friends or kind neighbours gave her.

The pile of tinsel she’d bought glittered out on the table on the balcony. She’d not used it for the tree. But it would look great looping down from the windows. Charlotte grabbed some scissors, dug up some sticky tape, and scooped it up. This was her Christmas and she was going to enjoy every minute.