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Table Of Contents
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Gingerbread Cupcakes with Christmas Comet Cookies
Christmas in Homestead
Journey Back To Christmas
Copyright @ 2017 Crown Media Family Networks
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-947892-10-1
For more about the movie visit:
www.hallmarkmoviesandmysteries.com/journey-back-to-christmas
Chapter One
December, 1945
Her purse meticulously balanced in her lap, Hanna Morse crossed her ankles and pushed down a quiver of anticipation as the heavy curtains pulled away from the movie screen. She aimed a brave smile at the tall brunette sitting beside her, glad she’d let Dottie talk her into coming to the theater tonight. Moping around the house certainly wasn’t doing her any good.
It had been six months since that terrible day when the telegram arrived. Six months, and she still couldn’t make it through the day—or the night—without tears.
But tonight, she’d let Dottie convince her to take in a picture show. While she’d never get over the pain of losing Chet, she needed to escape her grief just for a little while. To laugh, to enjoy life. At least, long enough to watch a movie.
Lights flickered on the screen. Hanna straightened. Dottie had promised the movie was a good one—a comedy starring Frank Sinatra and Gene Kelly. It had been so long since she’d laughed out loud that she’d nearly forgotten what her own laughter sounded like. Looking forward to it, she let herself relax.
But instead of the opening credits, the screen filled with images of soldiers marching through New York City. Unprepared, Hanna tensed as the voice of the newscaster filled the theater.
“New York pays tribute to the American foot soldier. These men were chosen to represent all the ten million soldiers of the United States Army. Gliders fly overhead as the city roars its welcome home to the thirteen thousand veterans who fought from Sicily and Italy through Normandy, Holland and Germany. Four million New Yorkers line the four-and-a-half-mile parade route to greet the men…”
She pressed shaky fingers beneath her eyes, straightened her shoulders, and took a breath. She could do this. She could sit here while the boys—everyone else’s boys—marched beneath the ticker tape thrown from tall buildings while crowds cheered. She could keep a smile on her face while wives and mothers welcomed husbands and sons home from the war. Chet would expect her to do that much. He’d be the first to remind her that others had sacrificed far more than she had. He’d tell her to think about the Sullivan family and all they’d lost. He’d…
But Chet wasn’t here. He wasn’t among those who were coming home.
And she wasn’t that strong.
Abruptly, she stood. Thankful she and Dottie had chosen seats on the aisle, she grabbed her coat and hat and headed for the lobby. As she rushed up the aisle, plush carpet silenced the sound of the black pumps she’d bought especially for this night, her first night out in half a year. The swinging doors opened into a lobby filled with twinkling Christmas lights and bright red ribbons. The decorations announced the happiness of the season. She blinked, struggling against her tears. She thought she had a pretty good chance of winning the battle over her emotions until a whiff of pine from the boughs that hung over the doors and around the window sills reminded her of Chet. The mask of cheery goodwill she did her best to maintain threatened to collapse completely.
Why, oh why, had she agreed to go out with Dottie tonight? She had no business being here. She needed to go home, to lose herself in memories of better times, of better days. Lately, it was the only way she ever got through the long, lonely nights. Even then, she slept in fits and starts. When she did manage to drift off, she dreamed of Chet dying on a field in a foreign country with no one there to comfort him.
Tears stung her eyes in earnest now. Fighting them, she slipped her arms into her coat. She had to leave.
Dottie caught up to her before she made it halfway across the lobby.
She turned to the woman who’d been the best friend a girl could ever ask for during those first, awful days after she’d received the news. “Oh, Dottie,” she said, tugging on her gloves. “I don’t want you to miss out because of me. Go back inside and watch the movie. I’ll be all right. I just…” She sniffled.
“I wouldn’t dream of staying without you.” Sympathy glinted in Dottie’s dark eyes. She overrode Hanna’s protest while she put on her own coat. Together, they hurried toward the exit. “Oh, Hanna, I didn’t know there’d be a newsreel.” Dottie’s breath spiraled into a cloud the instant she stepped from the warmth of the theater onto the sidewalk. Behind her, colorful Christmas lights outlined posters of the coming attractions.
“It’s not your fault.” Hanna stabbed at her tears with gloved fingers that did little more than smear the dampness onto her cheeks, where they froze faster. “Silly me, I… I just, ah…”
“Here.” Always prepared, Dottie handed her an embroidered handkerchief she’d pulled from her purse.
Hanna swallowed a sob. Dottie was so kind. Far kinder than a weak-willed woman like her deserved. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be stronger? Why couldn’t she bury her sorrow and pain? Chet had willingly fought for their country. He was the one who, like so many others, had given his life protecting their freedom while she’d stayed home to watch and wait and support the war effort by buying bonds and saving tin foil. Yet, here she was, in tears again.
Standing in the cold in front of the theater wasn’t going to help