The Noel Bridge

Chapter 1

Chapter One

A licia Silver wiped a tear from her cheek as she sat in her favorite nook, staring out at the morning light. The cushioned window seat had been the selling point of the second-floor condo—for her, at least—and the spot that had always soothed her.

Now, nothing could.

Over the last nine months, she’d been lost somewhere between the now and the never—what she called “the gap,” an empty void she couldn’t climb out of. In the “now”, she was nestled alone against the large glass pane. Freezing rain hit the Christmas lights on the palmettos that dotted the edge of the sidewalk. The scene blurred before she squeezed her tired eyes shut, the “never” still haunting her. Her life with the man she’d promised to marry having evaporated, she’d never know that innocent happiness again, never peer down at children who looked like her fiancé, Bo Callahan.

The wind howled in protest of the colder-than-usual temperatures so far south. Georgia residents weren’t used to so much ice. But the bad weather was par for the course lately. She tightened the fleece blanket around her shoulders and pulled her knees up to cocoon herself in warmth as she tried to fixate on the present, even though she wasn’t sure why she needed to.

Bo’s parents, Delia and Bert, had asked her to come over, but she couldn’t stomach being around people who’d known Bo so well. Perhaps she should have accepted their invitation. After only one isolating day of her holiday vacation, she prayed for someone—anyone—to walk out the door of the shop below her condo, just to assure her she wasn’t alone on this desolate Sunday. She was acutely aware of her solitude, struggling to sleep through the night, the silence constantly reminding her no one was there.

In the center of Savannah, Alicia’s condo was situated above a usually vibrant row of merchants. The store just below her sold eclectic housewares. At any other time of year, the sidewalks would be bustling with tourists, locals, or students from Savannah College of Art and Design. Usually, a constant stream of people darted to and fro, jostling their armfuls of shopping bags. They clustered on corners as they waited for traffic to clear so they could cross to the other side of Broughton Street, where they’d continue their retail therapy.

Instead, this weekend the empty streets mirrored her state of mind. And even if people had been outside, a jovial scene wouldn’t have alleviated the seclusion Alicia felt.

Unable to manage the bleak atmosphere any longer, she stood and padded across the cement floors of her warehouse-style condo that Bo had always liked more than she had. Ignoring the idle chatter of the television, she clutched the fleece blanket Bo had cuddled up with whenever he was over. She wadded it tightly in her fists and inhaled deeply, knowing she shouldn’t. It would only sharpen her crippling grief to take in his lingering scent.

They’d met in her junior year of college and, after four years of dating, he’d asked her to marry him. For better or worse. Well, she was worse right now without him and needed him to comfort her. He’d always promised to help her through anything. Yet all she had now was emptiness, the void of him. His things were still there, as if he would walk through the door any minute, but the marker in the cemetery across town reminded her he never would again.

“I knew this would happen.” Those had been Bo’s first words to her. She’d been sitting at a bar with her friends one night, and he’d come up behind her and whispered them in her ear.

She’d turned around, eyeing the stranger with dark hair and striking features. “Knew what would happen?” she’d asked.

“I didn’t want to come out tonight, but my friends convinced me, so I told them I’d have one drink. One drink, then I’m going home. Then I saw the most stunning girl on the planet the minute I walked in.”

She’d given him a hard time about his pick-up line over the years, and it had become his way of showing affection, resurfacing throughout their relationship. It became their inside joke—and the cornier the better.

“I knew this would happen,” he’d said two anniversaries ago as he stood in front of her with a bouquet of red roses.

“What?” she’d asked.

“That I’d buy a dozen roses and they wouldn’t even compare to you.”

She’d rolled her eyes at him playfully, but deep down she’d adored his sweetness.

Another night, they’d decided to walk home after a decadent dinner at Vic’s on the River. He’d come home that night with a bouquet of wildflowers—her favorite—and surprised her with the dinner reservations. As they strolled along the cobbled streets, he suddenly stopped as if he were frustrated.

“ I knew this would happen ,” he said before turning to Alicia, pulling out a ring box, and dropping to one knee. “I knew when I saw you that night in the bar that I was in real trouble. Now look at me.” He held up the ring. “I’m absolutely, hopelessly in love with you.”

Now as she surfaced from her bout of tears and self-pity—waves had hit her at random times since Bo’s car accident nine months ago—she focused on the blurry figures on the television. Two anchors on the local news station were chatting, their desk draped in holiday greenery, their smiles painted on. Their mention of miracles just before the commercial break had gotten her attention. Probably because a miracle was the only thing that could save her now. She felt as if the walls of the condo were closing in, burying her alive.

A nurse by trade, Alicia’s job in the orthopedics wing at Savannah General Hospital had saved her after Bo’s death. Her education and training had taught her what she’d needed to comprehend that night: that the impact of the other vehicle, which had been traveling at high speeds when it hit Bo’s car, had caused irreparable brain damage. Even if Bo had survived, his life never would have been the same.

Her work helped her escape the awful reality that followed. A natural nurturer, she threw herself into her job, taking extra shifts and staying late, even when she wasn’t on the clock, just to avoid going back to the condo to be alone with her thoughts. She’d wanted to work through the holidays, but her supervisor, Katy Woodruff, insisted she take the time off through New Year’s.

“But I’m the one who knows my patients,” Alicia had countered. “I give them every minute of my day. No one else will do that.”

“The patients need you to be rested,” Katy said. “You’re exhausted. Look at you.” She waved toward a mirror in the break room.

Alicia had leaned in, viewing a face she barely recognized. Her long dark hair lacked the shine it used to have. She ran her fingernails along her scalp to her tight ponytail, straightening out the lumps. She had to admit she was thinner, the dark circles around her brown eyes accentuating the new angles of her face. Her skin was paler, the vibrancy that used to play in her features absent, as if she’d died with Bo and left her body behind to operate on autopilot.

“You’re getting promoted in January, Alicia. You have to be ready to handle the responsibilities that come with that.”

She needed this promotion. Bo’s hospital stay and emergency surgeries, not to mention the funeral and burial costs, had racked up a ton. He didn’t have life insurance, and the co-pays were thousands of dollars. Bo’s family had tried to help, but they didn’t have the money either.

She was barely paying the bills on her current salary, and this promotion would give her the security she needed after losing Bo’s income. All their earlier discussions about her salary being only supplemental were out the window.

“I can’t go back to my condo,” she’d said to Katy, blinking away tears as she forced the words past the knot of grief in her chest.

Katy had put her arm around her. “I hear you, but you can’t keep going here either. You and I both know how easy it is to make mistakes when you’re tired. I don’t want you to push yourself until something awful happens.” Katy gave her a squeeze before meeting her gaze. “When was your last full night of sleep, hm?”

Alicia hadn’t had an answer because she didn’t know.

Since work had been the only thing keeping her from crumbling, Alicia had gone home that day, fallen on the sofa, and cried herself to sleep.

She and Bo had chosen the condo in the heart of his hometown of Savannah, only about an hour from where she’d spent her late teens in Beaufort, South Carolina. After getting her nursing degree at Georgia Southern, she moved back home with her parents to save money. Bo had fallen in love with the exposed brick walls, high ceilings, and original ironwork still intact. Alicia was more impressed with the location and eager to fix it up and make it feel like home. Their plan had been for her to move in first and get settled, then when they were married he’d give up his apartment and move in with her.

When she wasn’t working that first year she owned the condo, she’d spent all her free time nesting. She bought indulgently rich rugs to soften the cement floors, hung pleated white curtains with elegant tiebacks to feminize the wide 1920s windowpanes, and placed lamps and candles in all the quirky nooks and crannies. In summers past, her little kitchen table had held a bowl of lemons and glasses of sweet tea, and as the season changed to fall, platters of freshly baked brown sugar cookies. This Christmas it had held a stack of bills and a dirty plate from her take-out dinner for one.

“Deep in the wilderness of the Smoky Mountains”—the newscaster’s voice sailed into her consciousness after the commercial break—“there’s a covered bridge that many think is working miracles. Bridget Simpson reports live from the Noel bridge in the tiny village of Noel, Tennessee.”

Alicia couldn’t believe her ears. She’d lived in Noel until she was sixteen. She grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

“Thank you, Tricia,” Bridget said. She wore a bright red coat with fur around the hood, and her breath puffed out around her as if she stood in the middle of a blizzard. Stretching across the screen behind her was the familiar roof of the covered green bridge from her childhood with swags of snow-dotted holly and red berries around its entrance.

“This bridge might not look like much, but it’s changing lives,” Bridget continued. “Could Noel, Tennessee, an unincorporated community too small to qualify for a map dot, a village only notable for its proximity to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, be the actual epicenter of Christmas? Decide for yourself.”

Alicia spread Bo’s blanket over her legs, transfixed as the television program clipped from person to person—each telling their story of how the bridge had changed their lives. One woman found her cat a state away from home after visiting the bridge. Another person had reunited with his cousin through nothing more than a wild coincidence when they’d both gotten lost while hiking through the area and ended up inside the bridge to find shelter from a storm. A couple had discovered the woman’s misplaced family heirloom ring after visiting the bridge and wishing to find the lost item.

Once the spell of nostalgia had broken and another brightly colored commercial splashed across her television, Alicia blew out a cynical huff. They were giving that bridge too much credit. She knew all too well what the Noel bridge was capable of and what it wasn’t. She’d spent sixteen years living near that bridge. The folklore had been so rooted in the small town’s history that its magic was as real to the residents as the city council downtown.

The bridge had even granted Alicia a few requests as a child. She’d lost a tooth after hoping for it in the shade of the old clapboard structure. She’d won her elementary school science fair after a lengthy ask at the bridge, and she’d sworn her skinned knee from falling on the sidewalk in second grade had healed faster after she visited the bridge. But when she’d really needed it to deliver, when the outcome actually mattered, the bridge had failed miserably.

When she was sixteen and a half, she’d run into it, in tears after finding out her family was moving from Noel to Beaufort, South Carolina. Her dad, who’d worked outside his entire life, had gotten a job as a supervisor of a landscaping company in Beaufort, and the position nearly doubled his salary and allowed him to work at a desk for the first time in his life. He’d been thrilled, especially given his bad knees, but Alicia had not been. She’d rushed to the bridge and climbed the single step onto the wooden walking path lining the road that led inside the bridge and through to the other side. Out of breath, she’d pressed her back against the wooden structure and pushed her palms flat along the cool wall. She’d pleaded with whatever magic was working through that bridge that she’d be able to stay.

“I don’t want to leave Noel,” she’d sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “I want to live in Noel forever with the people I love.”

When the sold sign appeared in her front yard, she hadn’t wanted to believe that her request had gone unheard. The bridge’s magic had always worked. Even without her smaller asks that had been granted, centuries of folklore around the structure proved that wishes made in the bridge came true.

She’d challenged her parents, not packing her belongings until the very last minute and, even then, deeming she was doing so for no good reason. The bridge would save her. She refused to believe they were leaving. Something big would happen to give her the house back. It had to.

Yet the movers had come and carried her boxes up the ramp of their truck until the house was empty. She’d left Noel feeling so betrayed that, even after college, she hadn’t returned to her beloved town.

She’d told Bo the story and he’d grabbed her hands, pulling her off the sofa.

“We should go,” he’d said, optimism filling his voice. “It would be great. You could see all your old friends, show me where you grew up.” He leaned close and nibbled her neck, making her squeal.

She broke free and rubbed the goosebumps he’d caused on her arms. “It’s nothing special,” she’d warned.

“You’ll make it special,” he’d said.

She laughed, shrugging off the compliment.

“I’m serious. It’s good to get back to your roots.” Bo grabbed her waist and pulled her back to him. “And I’d love to see it.”

Sitting on her sofa in Savannah after hearing the personal desires that had come true for the people on the news program, she felt cheated. Why hadn’t she received her miracle?

The news program returned and the next person they interviewed was a woman who’d lost her husband to cancer.

“I swear I could hear him speaking to me under that bridge.”

Alicia sat up straighter and squinted at the television, trying to sniff out anything in the woman’s demeanor that suggested she was a fake. But the glisten in her eyes, the slight wobble of her lips—Alicia understood that so well—and the honesty in her gaze made it difficult to imagine this woman had any ulterior motives.

Could the bridge bring back someone from beyond? Could it piece together a broken life? Could it give her the future she’d lost? She rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

What Alicia understood most was the woman’s need to hear the voice of her loved one again. For so many nights Alicia had strained to hear Bo’s voice, pushing herself to the limits to conjure up the last time she’d been with him so she could decipher the rasp of his words or the light humor playing underneath them. She knew how easy it was to pray for it so hard that she could actually hear him. Perhaps the woman on her television had created her own miracle and opened herself up enough to remember the sound of her husband’s voice. Alicia doubted the bridge had anything to do with it.

What might Bo say to her if he could speak? Would he impart some wise knowledge he’d learned on the other side, or would he simply say “hello” and let her move through life the way she’d been going? Was there some lesson she was supposed to learn from all this grief? Or was life simply unkind?

Given how the last year had gone, she was willing to bet on the latter. She couldn’t help being a little angry with Bo, seeing how he’d left her before her life had really started and how he hadn’t even been able to come back for her. Couldn’t he have left her pennies from heaven or something? If anyone could’ve done something like that, it would’ve been him. Bo had always been the guy who could make it happen, whatever “it” was. He somehow managed to get reservations at popular restaurants. When they were lost in a new city, he always found somewhere amazing to get lunch and had them back on the right path in less than an hour. Anytime she lost something, he was always able to find it. But maybe he didn’t carry his life’s talents with him when he died. That was how she rationalized his silence when she’d gotten too tired to be angry.

She clicked off the TV, folded Bo’s blanket, and went into the kitchen to try to get herself together. She’d never climb out of her thoughts unless she cleared away the clutter in her life, starting with the kitchen table.

But as she cleaned up last night’s dish, she couldn’t get her mind off the bridge in Noel. The idea of a bridge granting people’s requests and bringing them luck was completely ridiculous. How could a pile of wood with a roof have any magical powers at all? How could it bring about miracles? It certainly wasn’t mentioned in the King James Bible she kept in the nightstand next to her bed. But she also remembered her mother telling her that God was capable of miracles, even today. Could He have some need to work through that bridge?

While Alicia carried on, absentmindedly tidying the living area and avoiding more tears, the past seemed to whisper to her, haunting her and filling her mind. It had been a long time since she’d been back home, since she’d stood under the bridge. Should she return to Noel?

The more she considered returning, with every pillow she straightened in her quiet condo, with each surface she wiped down, the less far-fetched traveling back to her remote little town sounded.

Christmas was in two weeks and she didn’t even have a tree yet. She had no reason to decorate or celebrate the holiday. It might be nice to go back to Noel as an adult, see her old haunts… She was nearly certain the miracle of the bridge was all a hoax, but she didn’t have anything else to do besides sit in the condo, missing Bo. Maybe the trip would be good for her.

Her parents had invited her to join them in Key West for the holidays, along with her older sister, Camille, and Camille’s husband and their son, Oscar, but she’d declined, not wanting to put a damper on the trip and ruin the mood.

“You need to get out and let the sun shine on your face,” her mother had said. “There’s something about the warm weather that recharges a person.”

Little did her mother know that Alicia’s battery was beyond recharging. It was completely dead, like her dreams and her future. She’d tried several times to pick herself up and get out there again, but every time she’d been unable to do it.

“I worry about you—there all on your own,” her mother had said in one final attempt to change her mind. “Even if you don’t go with us, get out of that condo. See something new.”

If Alicia went to Noel, she could, at the very least, convince her parents she was seizing the day and doing something for the holidays other than rotting in her condo in a haze of misery. She could tell them she planned to catch up with her childhood best friend, Evelyn Baton.

Growing up, she and Evelyn had planned to live side by side when they were older. But after she moved, they’d somewhat drifted apart—at least Alicia had. Evelyn still sent her messages through social media, but Alicia struggled to respond as often as she should have. They’d been so close as kids, and her parents would probably believe her if she told them she was going to visit Evelyn.

Getting away for a little while and going back to the place where things had been so good might ease her burdened heart. After all, it was Christmas.

What she didn’t want to admit to herself was her hope that being somewhere new might make her forget about the holiday entirely. Because if she let herself think about spending Christmas on her own, she might fall apart.