Echoes of Christmas Past: Quick-Read Series, #6

By Allison M. Azulay

Though Taylor Drummond looks forward to reuniting with her family for the holidays, she dreads seeing again the neighbour who made last Christmas all too memorable.  But Gabe MacAndrew wants a second chance with the woman he loves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ALLISON MARGARET AZULAY
• Release date: Dec 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781989215340

Allison M. Azulay

Born to Canadian parents of mixed, predominantly British heritage, Allison M. Azulay spent her formative years in a village outside of the capital city of Ottawa and her teen years in the steel city of Hamilton, Ontario. Like her mother, she read voraciously, and she composed stories of her own at home as well as in school. Later, encouraged by her husband to explore her ideas and talents, she wrote poems, short stories, children's storybooks for relatives, and more. After the death of her husband, she began to write and independently publish novels and short stories.

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Allison M. Azulay

ECHOES OF CHRISTMAS PAST

A Quick-Read Romance

Copyright © 2018 by Allison M. Azulay.  All rights reserved.

The use of any part of this publication, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Echoes of Christmas Past is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

www.allison-m-azulay.ca

ISBN 978-1-989215-34-0 (e-book)

Cover design by fiverr.com/pro_ebookcovers

Published in Renfrew, Ontario, Canada

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Homecoming

Chapter 2

Ghost of Christmas Past

Chapter 3

Family Reunion

Chapter 4

On the Night before Christmas

Chapter 5

Creatures A-Stirring

Chapter 6

Christmas Revelations

Chapter 7

Christmas Presents

Chapter 1

Homecoming

THE WINDSHIELD WIPERS could barely keep up with the snow as she drove north.  New winter tires had been a necessity this year despite the significant blow inflicted upon her budget, but she was glad of them today as she passed several cars in a ditch, the first about to be towed as the parka-clad driver stood watching and yammered into his cell phone.  She smirked and chuckled and shook her head as she drove slowly over and past the icy spot that had been his undoing:  Anyone who went out in this weather without hat or gloves or even boots likely still had summer tires on his vehicle.  Foreign, maybe.  Or just a dumbass from the city.

Not everyone who landed in a ditch was negligent, she knew.  She had found herself swerving out of control and unable to right a skid a time or two over the years.  But those had been freak accidents, not poor driving or improper gear.  However, in her estimation, the majority of people who slammed into a pole or ended up ass over teakettle by the side of the road simply did not take weather and road conditions seriously.

She would have pulled over and offered help did she not see another tow-truck approaching from behind and all the drivers and passengers safely out of their cars or trucks.  So, she just kept on and turned off at the next junction to take the 89 over to Shelburne and then north once more on the 10, all the while using the need to concentrate on the road as an excuse to avoid the conflicting feelings she harboured about this Christmas holiday.  She would be glad to spend time at home and to reunite with her family, of course.  But she dreaded the very thought of seeing again the man who had made last Christmas Eve the best night of her life and the following night the worst of her life.

Beyond Markdale, she bore east and then north around the curve until she came to the long driveway that led to her father’s farm.

As expected, the lane had been ploughed—probably two or three times already.  Max Drummond was not a man to shirk his chores.  Indeed, his daughter could see him before the long face of the unpainted, grey-sided board-and-batten garage warming up the pickup for another run.  She pulled up alongside and rolled down her window.

Hi, Da, she called.  Can I just park inside?

Yup, he said, and he turned back to tinker with the plough affixed to the front end of his truck.

She snorted a chuckle as she inched along to the end of the drive shed.  Just like Da, she thought:  a man of few words, as they say.  She stopped, set the parking break, and hopped out of her boxy red Kia to open the last door.  When she had thrown it wide, she darted back to her vehicle, slid into her seat, and drove into the safe harbour that would keep her car out of the weather.  Finally, she hoicked her luggage out of the back, leaving behind only her dress boots and coat and the gifts to be brought in later; slung her purse over her shoulder; slammed the trunk; and hauled her belongings to the porch while her father climbed into his Ford and cleared the path to the road.

Mom! she exclaimed her greeting as Irma Drummond stepped out of the yellow clapboard house wiping her hands on her heavy muslin apron.

Taylor! her mother cried with a joyful smile, flinging her arms wide to gather her only daughter into her embrace.

Taylor dropped her bags and returned the bear hug of the plump matron whose salt-and-pepper hair drawn up in a bun at her crown, clear blue eyes, and rosy cheeks never seemed to change.  An extended moment later, the two separated and Irma clasped her daughter’s equally pink cheeks.  I’m so glad you could make it, dear.  With this storm, we weren’t sure you’d manage all the way from Toronto.

No way am I going to miss your turkey, Mom! Taylor replied with a toothy grin.  Not even for a category-ten ice storm!

Is it a category ten? Irma asked, her tone and face suddenly anxious.

Taylor assured her, It’s a joke, Mom.  I don’t think they rank them.

Well, not yet, maybe, Irma muttered.  Though, God knows, they might start with all this strange weather we’ve been having the last few years.

What’s strange about a squall off the lake? said Taylor.  Then, with another quick hug, she added, Don’t worry, Mom.  Everybody will be here.

Her mother forced a smile that did not hide her apprehension, but Taylor made no further attempt to assuage Irma Drummond’s fears that her sons and their families would not arrive.  Although generally unflappable, Irma had always been a worrywart about weather and there was no talking her out of her angst.

Let’s get into the warmth, shall we?

Yes, yes, Irma agreed.  She reached