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Christmas on Ocracoke

By Christina Sinisi

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“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding: In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5.

Chapter 1
What a way to make a fresh start.
Annie Hanahan glanced back via the rearview mirror and said a quick prayer of gratitude that her baby boy was too young to know what was going on right now. She’d die in shame, or eternal pre-teenaged mockery if he was, say, a decade older. Instead, her two and a half year old son waved his hands in the air and grabbed a toy Brontosaurus from the diaper bag that was propped open next to his car seat.
The police officer drew even, and she lowered the driver’s side window. Up till now, she’d gone her whole life without a ticket.
“Good morning, ma’am. I’d ask if you knew how fast you were driving, but I’m guessing you figured that out by now.”
Annie concentrated on her breathing and not crying. “Yes, sir. I was going 80 in a 65.” So was every good ole’ boy along this stretch of the road, but if she’d been the low hanging fruit, so be it. “I’m sorry.”
The state trooper started to smile but must have remembered who he was and squashed any close-to-human expression from his face. “Well, ma’am, sorry is a good thing. Can I see your license and registration?”
This morning’s almond milk soured in her gut. “I can give you my license, but I bought this car yesterday and only have a temporary registration.”
“Just give me what you have, and we’ll go from there.”
Cars raced past them, behind his back, undoubtedly confident in their own speed now that one of their own had been sacrificed for the cause.
Annie scrounged for her old wallet in her new purse. There was only one emergency credit card in there now, the license she’d just gotten renewed, and an envelope of cash protruding from the leather like drug money. It represented her life savings up to this point, ready to be transferred to a new bank in her transformed name.
She located her license and struggled to pull it out of the little slot, the plastic tight and her fingers fumbling. There was no way this police officer could know she’d switched to her middle and maiden names. Finally, she handed the card to the officer.
“Annie Hanahan?” Officer—she squinted against the morning sun—Parker, looked from the license to her. “Any kin to Coach Hanahan?”
Annie grimaced. Switching names was difficult, but leaving behind her well-known family might be impossible. “Yes, the one who retired from Summer Creek High is my grandfather. The one who just took over is my brother.”
“Ah.” The trooper lifted his chin and glanced around as if afraid someone might see him.
Annie almost shouted at him to go ahead and give her the ticket. She’d earned it the old-fashioned way. At the same time, she was trying to disappear and, while he might remember she’d been driving on the interstate, a ticket would be in the public record for anyone to find.
“Well, Miss Anne, I think you’ve learned your lesson, don’t you?”
She only hoped he’d forget he ever saw her. “Yes, sir.”
She dropped the temporary registration, and it fluttered to the passenger seat.
“I’m thinking you just need a warning.” He glanced to the back seat where James had commenced singing, “The Wheels on the Bus.” Her license came back at her. “You get that baby home safely now, you hear? And slow down.”
He walked back to his car. Annie watched him go, unable to make the switch from dread to relief. She wanted a drink of water, and a nap. Which was not going to happen, not today, maybe never again. She and James were on their own.
After a few seconds, the state trooper pulled back into traffic and sped away, off for easier prey that wouldn’t cause the whole town to rise up against him. Annie exhaled the breath that had been stuck somewhere around the soles of her feet and started the engine. It took a few minutes of waiting for the slightest break in traffic before she could ease her SUV back on the interstate. A few minutes more, and her shoulders relaxed. Miles passed by the windshield before she started processing the scenery again.
Maybe special treatment wasn’t always the worst thing in the world.
Anyone leaving the peninsula pretty much had to take the well-traveled I26, so she kept looking in her rearview mirror to see if anyone was following and to check that her son was still in his car seat. Sweet Baby James had thick, copper brown hair that she loved brushing back from his forehead. His bright hazel eyes watched every car go by with interest. He was her entire world in a sturdy, thirty pound little body.
She would do anything to protect him.
A slowdown near the Santee exit pushed her focus back on the road. She mentally ticked items off the list on the passenger seat. The lease on her apartment would expire at the end of the month, and she’d told no one. As far as her family knew, she was still in that fancy townhouse in Mt. Pleasant.
“Wheels on bus,” sweet baby James hummed behind her. “Round and round.”
Annie closed her eyes, for a brief second only, given she was driving. Her son’s sweet voice pulsed through her like a sugar high. She went back to her list. It was the only thing keeping her sane. The apartment, the new car, the deed to the house waiting for her on an island she’d never seen and barely knew existed. The deed had come in a registered letter, sent to her by a lawyer who had contacted her rather than the other way around. She had inherited a house.
It was like a dream, a good one this time, unlike the nightmare daze she’d been slogging through for years.
Mrs. Spelman had been her high school teacher. They’d kept in contact over the years, and now the woman she’d viewed as a mentor had left her a house. No one else knew. It was as if the good Lord Himself blessed her crazy plan with His mighty stamp of approval.
“Milk.” James tended to demand, and his wish would be granted.
“Your sippy cup is in the cup holder on the door, sugar.” Annie gave a short laugh. The kid could make commands because she obeyed. At some point, she needed to stop that, but not today. “We’ll stop for dinner in a little bit.”
The closer she got to the northbound turn onto I-95, the more her stomach churned. The anxiety burned as if she had ulcers at age 25. If she got off this road, if she made that turn, this whole crazy plan felt irrevocable. In her whole life, her family had driven west to the University of South Carolina football games to cheer on the Gamecocks, maybe farther west to catch cheaper flights out of Atlanta versus the small Charleston airport, and south to Florida for their annual pilgrimage. She’d never gone north.
It was like she’d sail out to the horizon and fall off the edge of the earth if she made that turn.
The beginnings of a panic attack clawed their dark fingers at the edge of her vision. She could run, but could she really hide?

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