Epilogue
New Year’s Eve, Flitterndorf
KRIS KRINGLE gazed down at his growing family from his stance at the loft railing. From the littlest ones playing with their toy cars by the fireplace hearth in the living room to the older ones in the kitchen fixing a snack to tide everyone over until midnight, four generations of Kringles talked, laughed, played, or dozed downstairs.
Strong individuals, each of them, the younger adults having already shown their courage and determination a few years before. But what about the newest generation of Kringles—fragile, innocent, brimming with wonder and delight? They entered a world teetering on the brink of madness, where the idea of “goodwill to men” meant nothing to those who rejected its message. Would these youngsters stand strong against the growing tide, or be swept away?
Kris’s wife, Anne, ascended the spiral staircase and joined him at the railing. “For one about to welcome in a New Year, you look decidedly un-jolly. What troubles you?”
He draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “There’s a change coming, my dear,” he murmured, stroking his beard. “Last week on my flight around the world, I noticed a shift in the believers’ lights. Countries that had consistently burned brightest have dimmed drastically, while those countries where few lights used to shine slowly gain in intensity. But the darkness is vast, Anne, and it seethes with barely restrained evil.” He pressed his cheek against her braided hair. “What will our great-grandchildren be forced to endure by the time they’re ready to take up the Kringle mantel?”
“They shall not be left without aid, Kris. The Christmas Spirit will be here to guide them, you need not fear. Like all Kringles before them, they were born at the right time for their purpose in time.” She patted his back. “I take it your assignment in America did not go as planned?”
His gaze went to Gwynn’s painting temporarily placed on the mantel. “On the contrary, it was a success. Lost hearts found healing and forgiveness and rediscovered love. I played but a small part, in truth. The catalyst, if you will.” He winked. “Although, I may have swirled the waters a time or two.”
“Small part or big part, we each play a part. It might take us across the world or no farther than Flitterndorf’s borders. It might come with a high level of influence or the simpler task of loving our neighbors well.” She wagged a finger at him. “But no one is meant to carry all the world’s burdens, even someone bearing the Kringle namesake. We must yield to the guidance of the Christmas Spirit. It’s He who does the heavy-lifting, dearest, not you.”
The weighty band that had seized his heart for the past month broke free at his wife’s words, and Kris took a deep, cleansing breath.
He let it out again with a soft ho, ho, ho . “Who am I to be so blessed with such a wise woman? You’ve soothed my soul, Anne Kringle.” He kissed her upturned lips then tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow. “Let us go down and ring in the New Year with the brightest little lights of the future.”