A Christmas for the Heart

By D. Davidson and R. Marcano

Cantankerous old Viet Nam Vet buries his wife then reluctantly moves in with his daughter and her family. What follows is a clumsy attempt to reconcile and reunite the Burkhart and Howe families. Unforeseen tragedy follows. Maybe Christmas will prove to be the saving grace?

A Christmas for the Heart is not your conventional holiday anecdote. It will tug at your heartstrings and remind the ordinary reader what Christmas really means. Suddenly, unexpected tragedy and heartbreak become unwelcome intruders. The patriarch of the family, Sam Burkhart, has his faith tested what seems to be one too many times. Only a Christmas miracle can save the day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350921724

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© 2023 D. Davidson – R. Marcano

Cover design by- https://selfpubbookcovers.com/jascribbles

ebook ISBN: 979-8-35092-172-4

First Edition 2023

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic

or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems,

without permission in writing from the authors. The only exception

is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This novella is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people,

living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense

of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance,

if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

(Publisher’s Note:) Adult Fiction –

Intended for readers 18 years of age and older.

Table of Contents

AUTHORS PROFILES

OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHORS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

AUTHORS MENTION

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

AUTHORS NOTE

AUTHORS PROFILES

The co-authors, D. Davidson and R. Marcano grew up on Long Island and New York City. They have been lifelong friends and their unique relationship has weathered the test of time. After serving in the U.S. Air Force in South Korea the two men formed an unshakeable bond. Although life would take them down separate paths and eventually separate them by three time zones—their time in Korea would remain their strongest connection.

OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHORS

BUTTERFLY WISH

HISTORICAL ROMANCE -

A doomed interracial love affair set in post-war South Korea.

TWICE UPON A TIME

PARANORMAL – TIME TRAVEL - A man and a woman travel back in time to rekindle the flame of their lost love

SOUL OF JUBIE WALKER

PARANORMAL REINCARNATION – A 15-year-old boy

seems haunted by an American soldier’s ghost who died

in the Second World War

SO GENTLY GOES THE HUMMINGBIRD

HISTORICAL FICTION – Teenagers in the 1950s learned

a hard lesson about love, hate, and bigotry.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

We begin by thanking God for the wisdom He has bestowed upon us in our later years. Such knowledge would have proven invaluable in our formable years but, alas, it was not meant to be. 

Thank you to the staff at https://www.bookbaby.com/ for their professionalism and hard work.

Thank you to Faye Walker (Editing) [e-mail]

We’d like to credit Front Cover design by https://selfpubbookcovers.com//jascribbles

Last but certainly not least, we would like to thank our families and friends. Especially our wives, Kathy and Frances, our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. We are so grateful for their support and encouragement throughout the entire process of writing A Christmas for the Heart. We’ve also been fortunate to have many friends supporting our writing. We thank them all.

To Dorothy, Catherine, and Ida.

Very special ladies in my life.

D. Davidson

"Where we love is home -

home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts."

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

AUTHORS MENTION

A Christmas for the Heart is not your typical holiday or Christmas story. As much as we would like all Christmas stories to be heartwarming and uplifting, life can sometimes toss a curveball, changing such merriment into sorrow and tragedy. Sam Burkart and the family of the seventy-five-year-old Vietnam veteran will never forget that Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday. You will laugh, you may cry, but you, too, will never forget that memorable holiday season. Through calamity often comes joy and resolution.

PROLOGUE

It was a solemn moment: a time to mourn, but more than that—a time to reflect. A bronze casket covered with colorful flowers sat atop an open grave. It was an overcast day at Woodside Cemetery in Middletown, Ohio. The early morning rain had turned to an annoying drizzle. The small gathering of mourners, mostly dressed in dark clothing, listened as a local parish priest concluded the gravesite prayer. Those who grieved did so quietly and respectfully, perhaps reflecting on a personal memory of the dearly departed soul. 

Seventy-five-year-old Sam Burkhart was uncomfortable with the time it took Father Jacobs to complete the ceremony. When the fifty-year-old albino priest approached Sam Burkhart, Sam stepped back. He was uneasy with Father Jacobs confronting him. Sam had not been a church-going man, and his only reason for having a priest at the cemetery was for the sake of his dead wife. For years, Shelia Burkhart had been a devout Irish Catholic and a faithful parishioner at Saint Agatha’s Church. Sam was born into the Lutheran faith but agreed to convert to Catholicism to marry Shelia. His devotion to his new religion was short-lived. Sam felt Catholicism was too rigid in its ideology. And Sam had trouble accepting a higher power as all-knowing and all-loving. His daunting experiences in the war did little to convince him otherwise.

The most popular sentiment in combat was, There are no atheists in the foxhole. Sam was of a different opinion. He believed if war is Satan’s handiwork—and if there is a God, why would he allow such a calamity to exist? The logic of a man who had seen too much war and death.

Sam was just short of six feet in height but still much taller than the very pale-skinned clergyman with deep-set pinkish eyes. Father Jacobs was a peculiar-looking character, but his heart was pure and kind. The two men shook hands, and Father Jacobs remarked in a high-pitched voice, Sam, if there is anything I can ever do for you or your family, contact the parish. 

Sam nodded without saying a word. Sam was a quiet German Scot who rarely showed emotions. He was thinner now, and his hair was all gray. His thick sideburns showed a man not interested in catching up with the latest styles. Even the black suit he wore had a shine and was very outdated. Sam was an army veteran who served two tours in Vietnam and never apologized to anyone. He was now with his family to bury his wife of forty-nine-years, Shelia Burkhart. They had been high school sweethearts and married just before Sam began his second tour in Vietnam. It had been a wonderful marriage, and Shelia had been the family’s rock. Sam was a complicated man to live with and understand. He was stubborn, and the demons that haunted Sam from the war were always close to him. Yet he had a gentle side rarely seen by anyone but his wife. Shelia knew her husband was not an unfriendly person, as so often seen by others. Sam had a kind heart and a penchant for protecting those unable to defend themselves. But he was less than indulgent with those who condemned or criticized the flag or the country.

Also in attendance were Marcie and Drake Howe. Marcie was Sam’s only child. The 45-year-old was an attractive brunette and still held a lovely figure; Drake was Marcie’s portly forty-eight-year-old husband, a man slightly out of shape. Theirs was an inflexible marriage, primarily because of Marcie’s unwillingness to compromise her principles. She was a devout Catholic who strongly believed in the teachings of the New Testament. Drake found some of his wife’s views borderline hypocritical, so he purposely avoided all conversations concerning religion.

Sam stepped closer to the grave marker to read the inscription chiseled on the tombstone that read—

R.I.P.

Shelia Burkhart

Loving wife to Samuel

Loving mother to Marcie

Born June 15, 1944

Died Sept. 12, 2016

Marcie stepped beside Sam and slipped her hand under Sam’s left arm. Moms at peace, Dad. No more pain.

Sam nodded his head. The one simple truth—he was glad his wife’s battle with the cancer that ravaged her body was over.

Maybe you should stay with us for a while? Marcie suggested. You shouldn’t be alone now. You should be around family.

Sam gawked at Marcie and then panned the faces of the rest of the family. Sam’s oldest grandson, twenty-year-old Michael Howe, stood beside his nineteen-year-old girlfriend, Lindsey Lear. Both had straw-colored hair and beautiful ocean-blue eyes; their resemblance to the famous Ken and Barbi dolls was extraordinary. Michael wore the uniform of a United States Army Ranger. He had a solid 6' 2" frame.

Sam focused on his oldest granddaughter, Alex Howe; her reddish-brown hair perfectly framed her pretty twenty-two-year-old face. Alex was a senior in college, a progressive thinker who always disagreed with her grandfather, Sam, on everything. Her eighteen-year-old brother, Chase, and Chase’s Vietnamese girlfriend, Tuyen Minh, stood just behind Michael. Sam Burkhart did not readily accept their relationship. Sam’s fourteen-year-old granddaughter Kelly Howe, the tomboy, and her twelve-year-old towhead brother, Cody, stood further in the background. Young Cody always seemed to be a shadow to Kelly. 

Also present at the burial was a seventy-four-year-old black man, Thomas Sully Sullivan. Sully was an old wartime buddy of Sam. They were the best of friends with trust and bond—rare in the times and climate of present-day America. Sully claimed to be a black Irishman. He was black, but if there was any Irish in Sully, it was strictly in spirit. Sully admired the Irish. They liked to drink and fight—two of Sully’s favorite past times when he was younger. Sam and Sully had served two tours together in Vietnam. Their connection was more substantial than the tie between two actual brothers. What they experienced in the war was the tragic secret they shared with no one else. The nightmares still visited the two men in their sleep. Not every night, but often enough to keep their recollections of combat fresh.

Sam turned to his daughter, Marcie. I have a house, Marcie. Why would I wanna stay with you?

Like I said, to be around family, said Marcie. At least ’til we decide what’s best for you.

Sam glared at Marcie. You decide what’s best for me?

I didn’t mean it that way, Dad. You’ll have a say in it.

Uh-huh.

Marcie defended herself. The house is falling apart, Dad. We need to fix it up and sell it. Put the money in the bank.

Put the money in the bank? repeated Sam.

I don’t want your money, Dad. I want you to be happy.

Uh-huh.

Marcie shook her head and walked away. Her father’s disagreeable nature hopelessly frustrated her.

Sully traipsed over to Sam. Sully’s war injury from the Vietnamese conflict forced him to walk slightly limp. Still, Sully was an imposing figure, built like a linebacker. There was a shine to his shaved head. He touched Sam on the back. You know, Sam, when I lost Florence, I thought my life was over. It takes time, but you get past the grieving. Life goes on.

Shelia was my life, Sully, said Sam.

You still have your family.

Sam scanned his hodgepodge family. Uh-huh.

Sully shook his head and grinned, knowing Sam was a stubborn man.

Young Cody stepped away from his sister, Kelly, and turned his back to the grave.

What’s wrong, Cody? Kelly asked.

Cody peeked up at his sister. Like Alex, Kelly had a hint of red running through her brown short-cropped hair.

Where do you think Grandma is now? Cody asked curiously.

What do you mean? questioned Kelly.

I mean... is she there? Cody gestured to the grave. Or is she in heaven?

Heaven, replied Kelly.

Cody smiled through his tears. Are you just saying that, Kelly, or do you believe it?

I believe it, said Kelly.

Cody grinned again.

A bossy Alex interrupted. Come on. We’re leaving.

Kelly grabbed Cody’s hand, and they followed their older sister, Alex.

Michael and Lindsey stared at the grave. Lindsey put her arm around Michael. You okay, Michael?

Yeah, I’m okay, said Michael. She was a wonderful woman, Lindsey. She was always there for everyone.

Chase and eighteen-year-old Tuyen Minh stood back a few feet but focused on the grave marker. Tuyen was petite, and her long ebony hair fell to her shoulders. Chase held a striking resemblance to Michael, except for being shorter and having black hair.

She was the rock in the family, said Chase. My Grandfather’s gonna feel lost without her.

It will take some time, Chase, said Tuyen. The death of a loved one is difficult to accept.

It’s not just that, Tuyen. I’m worried about my grandfather. He doesn’t do well with change.

Tuyen peeked over at Sam.

Sam’s eyes stayed on the grave—then he looked up and stared at Tuyen coldly.

I don’t think your grandfather likes me very much, said Tuyen.

"Why do you say