By Fannie Flagg
With an identical incomparable sort and hot, inviting voice that experience made her liked by way of hundreds of thousands of readers all over, New York Times bestselling writer Fannie Flagg has written a fascinating Christmas tale of religion and wish for every age that's absolute to turn into a vintage.
Deep within the southernmost a part of Alabama, alongside the banks of a lazy winding river, lies the sleepy little neighborhood referred to as misplaced River, a spot that point itself turns out to have forgotten. After a startling analysis from his health professional, Oswald T. Campbell leaves in the back of the chilly and damp of the oncoming Chicago iciness to spend what he believes should be his final Christmas within the hot and alluring city of misplaced River. There he meets the postman who grants mail via boat, the shop proprietor who nurses a damaged center, the women of the Mystic Order of the Royal Polka Dots mystery Society, who do clandestine strong works. And he meets a bit redbird named Jack, who's on the heart of this story of a paranormal Christmas whilst whatever so extraordinary occurred that those that witnessed it have by no means forgotten it. when you event the beauty, you too won't ever put out of your mind A Redbird Christmas.
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Extra resources for A Redbird Christmas: A Novel
No, that’s the river,” she said. “Oh. qxd 9/1/04 11:54 AM Page 40 Fannie Flagg “That is the address, Mr. Campbell. ” Oswald was confused. “By boat? ” She laughed. ” He was still confused. ” “No, you don’t need to fool with that, Mr. Campbell. ” “I see . . ” “That’s right, I’m River Route Forty-six. ” She wanted to mention Mildred to him as much as possible. Oswald hung up and wondered what kind of place he was headed to. She had not mentioned they got their mail by boat, for God’s sake. He was starting to have second thoughts but he had already given up his room and said goodbye to Helen on the phone, so he guessed he’d just go on as planned.
It was a picture of a ladies’ dressing table and alongside a compact, lipstick, comb, and a pack of Lucky Strike Green cigarettes was a WAC dress uniform hat. The caption underneath said — ’ Then it dawned on him. That’s what had seemed so familiar. The old gal must have been in the service, probably as an army nurse. God knows he had been around enough army nurses, in and out of so many VA hospitals. He had even married one, for God’s sake. Downstairs in the kitchen, while eating a breakfast of eggs, biscuits, grits, and ham, he found out he was right.
The deeper south they went, the more the brown land started to turn a different color, and by the time he woke up the next morning the barren black trees that lined the tracks the day before had been replaced with thick evergreens and tall pines. He had gone to sleep in one world and awakened in another. Overnight, the gray gloomy winter sky had turned a bright blue with huge white cumulus clouds so big that Oswald’s first thought was, You’ve got to be kidding! When they reached Mobile late that afternoon, the moment he stepped off the train, a tall thin man with a small head, who looked to Oswald exactly like a praying mantis wearing a baseball cap, stepped up.