Finding Father Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

photo. Someone in Carlton Heath quite possibly had a copy
     of the same photo I had. Someone who might know something.
    Could I really leave now and have no regrets? Would I be content returning to San Francisco with nothing more than a new coat
     or other after-Christmas-sale merchandise? What about the answers I had come in search of?
    No one else knew the purpose of my trip. But I knew. And I knew that a week from now, when I lay awake in the middle of the
     night, I would ask myself why I had given up so easily. Especially when one small lead still dangled in front of me.
    I thought of what Katharine said about decisions.
    You can make a new one whenever you like.
    For several long minutes I didn’t move. I thought briefly—only briefly—about what it would be like for the kernel of my short
     life to be tucked under a blanket of cold earth. Could I die knowing I had not exhausted all possible leads to finding my
     father?
    Rising and pressing back my shoulders, I stepped away from the waiting room bench, drew in a deep breath, and made a new decision.
     I decided to go to the theater.
    “Merry Christmas, Mother,” I muttered. “I am going to see a play.”

Chapter Six
    G rey Hall, where the Dickens performance was being held, was easy enough to find. I had roused the dozing clerk at the newspaper
     kiosk inside the station, and he had given me clear directions in the most charming accent I had heard yet during my nearly
     seven hours on English soil.
    The walk from the train station was uphill, and the temperature had dropped another few degrees. At least the wind had died
     down. The exertion of heading uphill warmed me as I walked. The distance was farther than I had estimated, and I hesitated
     at the second crossroad.
    It’s not too late to go back to the train station. You don’t have to do this.
    “Yes I do.”
    The abiding thought that kept me walking was that I needed to know. I needed to know who my father was, and I needed to know
     him. The only clues I had to his existence had led me to Carlton Heath. Although I didn’t understand my trailing thought,
     I sensed that as much as I needed to know, I also needed to be known.
    One determined foot in front of the other brought me into Brumpton Square and there, set a short distance off the main road,
     stood the Victorian-style meeting hall. Eight metalshepherd’s hooks lined the walkway, and from each hook hung a lantern, illuminating the path in the crystalline air. Ropes
     of evergreen garlands draped the entrance, and magnificent curls of gingerbread façade on the building’s face disguised its
     true age. The name, Grey Hall, appeared across the front of the theater in raised letters.
    A large dedication plaque beside the entrance read, “Dedicated May 19, 1987, The Society of Grey Hall Community Theatre.”
     The building had been constructed over a century too late for a Dickens appearance, yet it felt easy to believe that the author
     himself might be in attendance this evening where past and present seemed to have merged.
    No other theatergoers were in view as I stood in front of the closed doors. My guess was that I had missed the opening curtain.
     I reached for the long handles on the double doors and slowly opened the right side just enough to slip into the foyer.
    A short woman in a flowing pink evening dress came to my side. With a gloved finger held to her lips, she motioned for me
     to follow her to the far left of the reception area where a thick, blue velvet curtain separated us from the theater seating.
    The woman’s short, tousled hair was as pink as her dress and dotted with sparkles. Her perfectly shaped lips were painted
     the same cotton candy shade and dotted with a jewel above her top lip on the right side, a distinguishing beauty mark. She
     appeared to be in her early forties; yet, dressed up as she was, her heart seemed much younger.
    Without a word, she drew back the curtain and nodded for me to step inside the dark