December's Child Part II

In Part I (here), Milea went to Mr. Tollanski's house, but no one was there. Worried he might be hurt, she went to his neighbor, Mr. Lansdowne.

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How could he know why she was there? 

She had only said hello to him and Mrs. Lansdowne when they passed on the street.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lansdowne, but do you know if Mr. Tollanski is OK?" 

"I see him every Thursday after work; his place is in total darkness. I am worried."

Mr. Lansdowne's face tightened. She sensed something was wrong and prepared herself for some bad news.

"My dear child, Mr. Tollanski passed away yesterday morning. He had a stroke, and the ambulance tried to help him, but it was too late. I am surprised that you didn't hear the commotion."

"I had gone over to see him at about 9 o'clock when I heard this big bang. I was out in my garden when I heard this big bang at about 9 o'clock. I went over to his place to see if he was all right."

"When I got there, he had fallen down the stairs. He was conscious but barely breathing."

"It is none of my business, but I noticed a big box with a note stuck to the top of his table in the lounge room."

The note said, "Milea, please open for you. Merry Christmas."

"I left the box, but no one has been in there because I told the ambulance people I would keep his key. Would you like to go and get it?"

Milea became paralyzed. Mr. Tollanski was dead.

"How would she tell her mother he would not be there on Christmas Day?"

"Who would read her stories now?"

"What would happen to Mr. Tollanski's things?"

She wanted to cry, but no tears would come out.

Mr Lansdowne's voice snapped her put of her trance.

"I'm sorry. I was miles away. I can't believe Mr. Tollanski has gone."

"I only saw him a few days ago, and he was looking forward to Christmas."

"Unfortunately, these things happen when you get older. I suspect he knew something was wrong and had put the box together some time ago."

"Milea, would you like to come with me and get the box he left for you?" Mr. Lansdowne asked again.

"Yes, yes, please," replied Milea, trying to refocus.

"Let's go and get it, then. I will go and get the key and put my coat on. It is cold out there."

Milea wrestled with the box that she had collected. It was heavy, and she struggled to get it past the few houses to her place. The snow was settling, and she had to be extra careful not to slip.

"Is that you, Milea?" her mother cried out.

"Yes, mumma, it is only me."

She needed time to process what had happened and did not want to bring it up with her mother now.

"I will see you in the morning; sleep well," she cried out.

"You too, my angel. God bless, sleep tight," her mother replied.

Milea could not wait until Christmas to open the box. She had to see what was inside it right then and there, she cut open the box.

The first thing she saw was an envelope addressed to her.

She hesitated, pondering what it might say. The suspense was too much for her, so she opened it. 

Inside was a letter.

She had never seen such beautiful handwriting. Each word was precise and sculpted. She realized that she had never seen Mr. Tollansik's writing. 

Yes, she checked; the letter was from him. It was short, only one or two small pages.

"My Dear Milea,

You will realize that I am no longer here when you get this. The years will have caught up with me. Please do not be sad.

I have had a good few years enriched by your wonderful care and comfort. The times I spent with you and your mother have been wonderful.

I will finally be able to see my darling Martha, and as you know, I have longed to be with her forever.

I will miss you, and I have always loved you as a daughter.

You have become a very good writer. To that end, I have put some more books and pens in this box as part of your Christmas present so that you can keep writing.

I also have another present for you. A gentleman from the company Smith, Lenke, Holmes & Courtney will contact you. His name is Brian Courtney. He is my lawyer and the executor of my will.

I do not have much, but everything I have is yours, my dear child.

There is an allowance for the next five years to allow you to give up your job and spend more time writing.

My house, when sold, will generate a small amount of money for you and your mother.

The final part of my gift is sending a collection of your best stories to Abbey Road, a publisher. She will contact you because her last correspondence with me was very reassuring. This will happen through Mr. Courtney.

If they publish your stories, it will be the first book, "Stories from December's Child."

It has special meaning because we first met on December 4, six years ago. Now, six years later, it is December. I hope I have made your dreams come true.

All that remains is to say: "Be happy for me, my little angel, not sad. Make sure you always set a place for me at the Christmas table, and I promise I will visit you every year."

God Bless,

Your absolute best friend, Mr. Tollanski.

Tears filled Milea's eyes so much that she could not see properly. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure it was going to pop out of her chest. 

She closed her eyes to stop them from stinging. Instantly, a vision of Mr. Tollanski came to her—his rotund face, gray, thinning hair, and those deep, soulful eyes she had learned to love and trust.

She was happy he had finally found peace and could be with his wife. She also knew that she would miss him more than anything. His kind gift and generosity would be her incentive to be a great author, not just a good author.

Tomorrow, I will start on a new collection of stories, "The Life and Times of Mr. Tollanski."

"I love you, thank you," she whispered, looking at the sky.

Till next time, thanks for reading.

Calvin

[Author's note: Those of you who follow me will know I have not written a lot of fiction, so I would love to know what you think -good or bad.]