Read The Tidings - [Ghost Huntress 0.5 - A Christmas Novella] for Free Online Page B

dolls’—reaches out and wraps around her index finger. Mom bursts into tears and laughter all at the same time.
    I do the same, as does Taylor.
    “You two are making me ruin my awesome Ghost of Christmas Past makeup.” Taylor pulls me away from the scene before I’m ready to go. “Come on. We’ve got a lot to cover.”
    “But wait, I want to—”
    Zap! Bam!
    Suddenly, the hospital scene is gone. We’re now in a small apartment… somewhere. A white bassinette sits against the wall to the left in a room painted a light yellow on the walls and midnight blue on the ceiling with white star bursts all overhead.
    Total recognition dings me upside the head.
    “This was my room,” I say to Taylor. “We lived here until I was five. I used to lie in my bed and count the stars up there.”
    She snickers. “I guess that’s why you’re doing so well in our natural science classes.”
    “I always have been a sucker for astronomy.”
    As we’re standing there, Mom and Dad arrive with a fidgeting bundle of baby. It’s me again. Only, I’m a little bigger and breathing on my own.
    “Welcome home, Kendall,” Dad says with great pride.
    Mom gently places me in the crib and covers me with a light-pink blanket that has lambs printed all over it. She twists the button on the mobile above the bed, and soon shapes of stars, moons, and planets are spinning around over my head. My eyes seem as though I’m watching the figurines that spin around with the tinkly music playing. Who knows, though? I certainly have no memory of this.
    Mom hugs onto Dad and the two of them are so damn happy as they’re looking at me.
    “I can’t believe she’s really ours, David.”
    “She is, Sarah. We’ll make sure she’s completely taken care of and loved beyond reason.”
    A tear falls from Mom’s eye and I want to go to her, to both of them, and get in on the hug-fest. “Poor little soul. I never, ever want her to know the pain and tragedy that brought her into this world. She’s ours, David. No one can take her away from us.”
    He kisses her on the top of her head and holds her tight. “I’ll never let it happen. She’s our Christmas miracle.”
    Mom laughs. “Honey, it’s March. She’s been in the hospital for three months while we took care of the adoption papers. Are you having a lapse of time?”
    Dad withdraws from her, mirth overcoming him. “I know, but I thought we’d celebrate anyway since Kendall didn’t get to have her first Christmas. She was born three days before the twenty-fifth, so she’s definitely our special holiday present.” He steps out of the room and then returns with a one foot silver and pink Christmas tree.
    “That’s the tree I have up in my room,” I exclaim. “I had no idea.”
    “Of course, you didn’t,” my ghostly Taylor says.
    Mom squeals. “Oh, David! It’s so girly and perfect. I love it.”
    He places the aluminum tree on the dresser next to my crib and plugs it in. The lights sparkle and twinkle; I see my baby eyes shift to see the pretty colors.
    “Look,” Mom says. “She loves it.”
    “There’s more.” Dad reaches up underneath the base of the small tree and flips a switch. A music box plays out the tune “There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays.” I coo along with the sound.
    “That’s right, Kendall,” Mom says. “You’re home.”
    “Home,” I repeat in a whisper as I watch.
    “You okay?” Taylor asks.
    All I can do is nod. I had no idea that my parents shared a belated Christmas with me when they brought me home. I also didn’t know the tree in my room was the very one Dad bought to welcome his new baby girl.
    “I wish I could hug them,” I say. “I love them so much.”
    “I know you do.” Taylor pats me on the arm and tightens the belt on her robe. “Come on, I’ve got another Christmas to show you.”
    The fresh tears from my eyes blur the family scene. Before I can protest leaving, I’m whisked away by my spirit guide to another time.