Posted on by lgandre

A Year Ago, at Christmas (Part 5)

Missed the beginning? Click here.

Woodstock, Vermont at Christmas
A Year Ago, at Christmas

The two did not exactly spring out of bed early on Christmas Eve.  Stuart was exhausted from his 16-hour work days and Julia still had catching up from her sleepless night.

But by mid morning, Julia’s Subaru was making it’s way out of the neighborhood.  Julia chuckled at all the deflated blowups that littered the neighborhood lawns.  “It’s like Christmas threw up in the officer housing,”  Stuart joked.

The five-hour car ride to Woodstock was slightly awkward.  Julia could see that despite Stuart’s enthusiasm, he was still a bit nervous.  It had been a long time since they had tried to do something not related to her illness.  And for her part, even though Julia’s fear of the worst had passed, she still felt keenly the distance between them and the rawness of the terrible twelve hours she had lived only a short time ago. 

But soon, Stuart was telling her about the remodel he had done and she got to see pictures on his phone.  Julia told Stuart about little screaming Malachi and how she had helped Carrie get ready for their family festivities.

“Didn’t you used to say she intimidated you?”  Stuart asked.

“Yes…well…not anymore.  I am still impressed with her though.  I don’t know many women who could handle that much screaming and not lose their minds.”

“Or men.”

“Yeah, I don’t know any men who could,” Julia said teasingly.

“Well…you’re not wrong.”

“I’d be open to doing foster care one day.”  Julia kept her eyes on the road; not sure whether she dared read the expression on Stuart’s face at that.

“I’m listening,” he said finally.

And Julia found herself continuing.  “It’s funny, as I held that little guy and felt him squirm and kick and scream, it taught me something.  I saw myself in a whole new way…”

Stuart truly was listening.  It felt so good to communicate about something besides doctors and medical bills.  “He taught me something, in fact.  Probably sounds silly…but the first day I was there I just saw how he cried and cried; so unhappy with his life even though all his needs really were being met.  I thought about you…how you’ve held me through it all.  You’ve been there each step of the way.  You’ve been patient with all my mood swings.  You’ve loved me in sweat pants and no make up.  You haven’t complained when we’ve had to spend your hard-earned money on traveling to Boston for second opinions…I realized how thankful I was for you.”

“It was nothing.”  Stuart replied in a husky voice that Julia knew was attempting to cover tears of his own.

“But then…I don’t know if I should tell you this part…”

“Tell me.”

“Then I was leaving the Grimsley’s house around ten or so.  For no real reason, I decided to drive around the long way back to the house.”  Julia still hesitated.  “And I saw…your truck.”

They both were silent for a moment.  She could see he was absorbing what she was saying.

“I saw your truck at the Greens.  I knew Eric was gone; but I didn’t know—”

“Olivia was out of town.”

“Right.  The only thing I could think of was that you were lying to me—”

“Why didn’t you ask?”  Eric seemed slightly irritated.  “Surely, you know I wouldn’t lie to you.  I was only there a few minutes.”

“You hadn’t been answering your phone.”

There was silence again.  Julia wasn’t sure if she should regret telling him or be glad it was done.  She did feel like saying it to him had brought her a sense of relief.

But once it sunk in, Stuart seemed to understand.  “I didn’t answer my phone because I was so determined to surprise you.  I was afraid you were going to start asking questions and I didn’t want to have to lie.”

It felt so good to be talking again.

He continued.  “I know you’ve been through a lot this year; I wanted to make Christmas special.  Get you to a different setting where you didn’t have to think about…things.”

“To your credit, even though the facts looked bad; and even though my mind was running away with things; I couldn’t quite believe it.  And what’s more, I didn’t want to believe it.  There’s nothing like feeling like you’re losing something to make you appreciate it.”  She echoed Julia’s words from earlier.

“Boy, don’t I know.”  Stuart looked at Julia with a tenderness in his eyes that made her fall in love all over again. 

There is nothing as wonderful as falling in love with the man you’re already married to, she realized.  Nothing.

There was silence for a moment and then Stuart talked.

“I was feeling pretty low that night too.  We weren’t talking much—maybe I shouldn’t have tried so hard to keep a secret.  It was all I could think about and I didn’t want to blow it.  But anyway…I couldn’t talk to you.  Eric’s gone.  Most of the guys on base lead pretty different lives…we talk some, but it isn’t the same.”

Julia nodded.

“And this may seem childish to you…but I was really missing my family.  Christmas was always a huge deal at our house.  We would always have a pickleball tournament—Dad and Mom would buy the winner a new pair of tennis shoes.  Brian and I would get pretty cutthroat.”  He laughed, then continued.  “Mom would made prime rib and Aunt Sally would bring a chocolate cake that’s just out of this world.”

Julia reached for his hand.  Stuart had never told her this.

“I missed last Christmas because of our engagement.  And the two years before that because I was deployed.  I feel like my nephews and nieces are growing up and I’m missing it.  You know?  I want to be the fun uncle.  Especially since…”  he drifted off and Julia knew what he was thinking.  She gave his hand a squeeze to make sure he knew it was okay to keep talking.  But he didn’t finish.

“Next year,”  she said, “next year, we will go spend Christmas with your family.”  But then she caught herself.  “Actually, I think I’m just going to let you plan.  I think you do just fine.”

Stuart squeezed her hand and then seemed to find his voice again.  “That next morning, my Bible reading was especially meaningful to me.  It was about Immanuel.”

“God with us.”

“Yeah.  And it was just a perfect reminder for me, right then.  I wasn’t alone.  We aren’t alone.  He will always be with us.  And that’s enough.”

The two finished the ride holding hands.  The silence no longer felt awkward or sterile.  It was warm and comforting.  They had a Savior.  That was enough.

———————————-

Woodstock was beautifully decorated for Christmas.  The hotel was like a storybook.  There was a big roaring fire in the lobby and festive trees at every corner.  The place was buzzing.

“I thought we’d go to that little church in town for the early Christmas Eve service,” Stuart told her.  “Then, I made dinner reservations at 6:30.”

Julia opened her suitcase and started to unpack.  “I don’t know if I brought anything to wear to church,” she bemoaned. She hadn’t dressed up in ages.

“How about this?”  Stuart was taking her burgundy engagement dress out of his suitcase.  “It’s Christmasy.  And it looks beautiful on you.”

Stuart wanted to walk to the church so they wouldn’t lose their parking place.  It was a little cold for that, but Julia decided not to complain.  It wasn’t far and it would be fun to peak in the store windows on the way.

As if God was smiling on them, a light sprinkling of snow began to fall.  “This reminds me so much of last year!”  Julia commented.  And just then, they reached the wooden covered bridge where Stuart had popped the question one year ago, today. 

It was still just as quaint.  The falling snow hadn’t started to stick yet, but it did make it even more romantic.  Julia was trying to find the words to say something more when Stuart interrupted her thoughts.

“Look at that dog over there.”  Julia turned to see where he was looking.  That was something they had noticed last year; everyone seemed to have a dog in this town.  But this time, she didn’t see one.

She looked back to see Stuart, down on one knee.  “Julia, I can’t imagine my life without you.  I believe God has made us uniquely suited to do life together as a family.  I love you and I always will.  Would you grow old with me?”

“Yes.”  Julia said.  Because, in that moment, she could think of nothing else to say.  But yes was not enough.  So she said it again.  “Yes…yes…YES!”  And with that, she threw herself into his arms.

And this time, he caught her.

Posted on by lgandre · 1 Comment

A Year Ago, at Christmas (Part 4)

Julia did not sleep, however. She did not sleep at all.  Her mind raced circles through life, looking for clues as to what was going on.  She didn’t want to believe Stuart was lying to her, but it was hard to conclude otherwise.  She felt guilty for not being a good wife.  She felt angry for being betrayed.  She felt bad about doubting him.  She felt foolish for believing. 

She refused to completely believe the worst; but she could not ignore that it was staring her in the face.  It did seem like Stuart was hiding something.  She knew him well enough to know that something was a bit off.

It was a long, long night.  She heard every tick of the wall clock.  Every dong of the hour.  She tried not to think about Olivia’s engaging smile and her cute, active kids.

Stuart slipped out early once again; but this time, Julia was up immediately upon hearing the door click.  She didn’t know what to do, but she could not lie by herself in the dark even a minute longer.

She went to their bedroom…still looking for clues.   She saw nothing except Stuart’s Bible—open by his bedside.  He read it every morning; no matter how early he had to leave.  Next to it was a small Advent Bible study.  Stuart had suggested they do it together, but Julia had never felt like waking early enough.

She glanced at today’s reading.  Isaiah 7:14, “Therefore, the Lord Himself will give you a sign: the virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel” (which means ‘God with us’).  This verse, written seven hundred years before Christ, was then mirrored in the Gospels, Matthew 1:23, “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means ‘God with us’).

The devotional went on to talk about Jesus, the Son of God, being God’s presence with us.  It ended with Jesus’ words at the very end of Matthew, “Lo, I am with you always…”

Julia took a deep breath, but for once, she did not burst into tears.  Immanuel.  He was with her. Always. Julia felt an unusual sense of peace and continued to chew on that verse as she took a shower and went through the motions of getting ready for the day.  She had nowhere to go; but she had to do something, and this was a start. 

Somehow, in the next eight hours, she needed to figure out what to say and do when he got home that night.  And all she had was one, very difficult set of facts. Suddenly, that was not enough. They were always telling Olivia to call if she needed anything. Maybe she had had an emergency. She picked up her phone again.  She would not wait eight hours; She was just going to call him back and ask him.

But the phone was already ringing.

“Julia!”

“Oh, hi!  It’s Carrie.  Hey, I just wanted to say thanks again for last night.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.  I was happy to do it.”

“I know it wasn’t easy…and, I didn’t tell you this, but Ryan and Elizabeth are coming home tonight and Elizabeth is bringing her new boyfriend.  I had no clue how I was going to get everything done before they got here.  I haven’t wrapped a single gift…I haven’t even made a menu for Christmas dinner…and I really wanted to be able to spend some time with Rick…so…you were a godsend.” 

Julia could hear Malachi screaming in the background.

“You know, why don’t you let me come over again and help you some this morning?  I can watch the little guy while you grocery shop or wrap presents…or whatever you need.”

“Oh, Julia!  I didn’t call to ask…I really just called to thank you.”

“Well, it sounds like you could use a little help and I’m free for a bit.

“I-I-Honestly…that would be amazing.  Olivia has been helping me out some, but you know she and her kids went down to spend the week with her parents.  I’ve missed her help for sure…this little guy isn’t giving me a break.”

“Olivia is out of town?  Olivia Green?”

“Oh yes, her parents are in New Jersey or something so she drove down to be with them over Christmas break.  We’ve been feeding their hamsters until they get back.  That is, we are supposed to be feeding them. Last night, right in the middle of the concert, I realized I forgot for the last two days!  I was so sure they would die on our watch that I couldn’t stand it.  That’s why Rick was texting Stuart in the middle of the concert.  He said he would swing by there on his way home.  We knew he was someone Eric wouldn’t mind having the door code.  It’s so nice having friends and neighbors we can trust…that’s the beauty of this community…”

Carrie was still talking but Julia had heard what she needed to hear.  Olivia was out of town.  Stuart was at the Greens feeding hamsters. 

Tears.  More tears.  But this time, they were the gentle tears of relief.  Julia sank back onto the couch in disbelief.  What a crazy roller coaster the last twenty-four hours had been.  It was seared in her mind and already a blur at the same time.  All this drama because of screaming babies and hamsters.

Her phone buzzed a few times and then rang.

“Hey, honey.”  Stuart’s voice seemed happy.

“H-hi!”  She didn’t know how to respond.

“So sorry I missed you last night.  I was tied up until late.  But the good news is, I think we’re pretty much wrapped up with the project.  I should be home at the normal time today.”

“Okay.”  Julia had never been good with words; but at this moment, she was so far at a loss that she didn’t even try.

“You alright?”

“Well…just…didn’t sleep…well….”

“I’m so sorry.”  His voice was kind.   “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too.” 

“Sorry, it was even later than I thought last night. Rick asked me to go by the Green’s. Then, I talked to Eric on the way over and he asked me to double check and make sure Olivia got all the pipes drained before she left town. It’s supposed to be getting even colder these next few days and he doesn’t want her to come home to busted pipes.”

“I understand.” She choked. “No worries. Glad we could help them out.”

“Love you.” 

Julia was still exhausted and in something of a fog, but she left light and free as she once again stood knocking on the door again at Carrie’s.  It felt a little like déjà vu, holding the screaming, struggling Malachi again.  “Remember,” she crooned to him, “we talked about this.  You’re fed.  You’re changed.  You’re loved.  Life is good.  You have no need to cry.” 

Malachi screamed on.

“You’re a slow learner,” she told him–noting the irony of a 32-year-old saying that to an eight-week old.   Yesterday, she had been reminded of how good her life was; all the things she had to be thankful for.  But it had not been enough.  She had focused on the things that made her feel safe and secure.  Then she had learned those things could change in an instant.

This morning, she had been reminded of the truth.  The real gift of Christmas.  The fact that God came down to be with us.  Not for a moment.  Not even for a few years.  But always— even to the end of the age.  No one and no circumstance could take that away.  The knowledge that God was with her changed nothing; and at the same time, it changed everything.

She didn’t have to have it all planned out; and she didn’t have to kick and scream against the plan God had made for her.

Eventually, Malachi slept and Julia and Carrie were sprawled on the floor wrapping a pile of gifts.

“This is terrible.”  Carrie laughed.  “Every year I tell myself I’m going to scale back the next year…well…here we are.  But when your kids only come home once in a while it changes things.  There’s nothing like feeling like you’re losing something to make you appreciate it.  You know what I mean?”

Julia did know what she meant. 

“What are you guys doing for Christmas?”

Julia shrugged.  “I didn’t make any plans this year.  My parents are in California with my sister’s family.  We don’t typically get together at Christmas.  Stuart’s parents invited us to celebrate with them in St. Augustine but…it’s so expensive to travel and we didn’t know how I would be feeling.”

Carrie nodded sympathetically.  Julia felt a twinge of guilt.  Stuart’s parents had offered to pay for them to fly down to Florida for Christmas.  The real reason Julia had said “no” was prideful and petty:  She didn’t want to accept their charity; and she didn’t want to be the only couple present without kids.  She had given a definite no and Stuart had delivered the news to his parents graciously. They seemed to understand.

By midafternoon, Carrie looked around with a happy sigh.  “We did it, girl!  Time for me to leave for the airport and I think this place looks pretty welcoming, don’t you?”

“I hope you have a great time!”  Julia beamed.  “And let me know if you need me to…a…feed the hamsters or anything.”

Carrie laughed.  “Thank you, Julia.  You don’t know what a gift you’ve been,” she said, meaning it.

“You don’t know what a gift you’ve been,” Julia replied.  Meaning it right back. Meaning it even more.

——

Julia had just lighted a candle on their own table when Stuart walked in the door.

“I have dinner ready!” she announced, but he seemed more excited about an announcement of his own.

“I have a surprise for you!”  He was beaming.

“Oh?”  Julia was surprised already.

“We’re going to Woodstock!”

“W-w-what?”  Julia had definitely not seen this coming.

“Yes, it’s only about five hours.  We’ll go tomorrow morning and stay the night at the Woodstock Inn.”

“Stuart…are you serious?  That place has to be booked months in advance.  Especially at Christmas.”  Julia knew all about it from last year’s intense planning.

He was grinning like a kid.  “You’re not the only planner in the family, you know.”

“But…the money?”

“Don’t worry.  I told you I was working late this week…and I have been.  But not on base.  I’ve been helping with a bathroom remodel on the side so I could pay for this.”

Julia hadn’t seen him this happy in a long time, so she smiled too.  “Let’s go!”

Come back tomorrow for the fifth and final installment of “A Year Ago, at Christmas.”

Posted on by lgandre

A Year Ago, at Christmas (Part 3)

Woodstock, Vermont at Christmas

This is part 3…if you missed 1 and 2, click here to read the beginning.

At five a clock, Julia was standing on Carrie’s doorstep.  She knocked softly when she saw the sign that said, “Sleeping baby.  Please do not ring the bell!”

But even a moment of experience told her that there was no sleeping baby and that a soft knock was going to get her nowhere.  Screaming and wailing was emanating from inside at a terrifying decibel level.  Julia thought about jumping back in her Subaru.  But alas, the concert tickets.

Julia knocked, rang, and finally called Carrie’s phone.

When Carrie appeared, she was barefoot but impeccably clad in a classy, black, knee length dress with flowing sleeves.  Her hair was twisted up on her head beautifully—quite a transformation from the Door Dash in blue jeans earlier that morning.

“So sorry!”  Carrie was warm and apologetic.  He just woke up and he’s…he’s…he’s…

“Screaming,”  Julia finished for her.

“Yes, I was trying to think of a nicer word.  Hungry, maybe?”

Carrie quickly showed Julia around…The changing table…the formula…the pajamas…the swing…all the ways they tried to keep him entertained. 

“It doesn’t work…he basically has two modes, sleep and scream.  But we keep trying.”

Julia nodded but was secretly convinced that she could get him to be happy.

“Sorry about the house.”  Carrie apologized as they finished.  “I wasn’t expecting to get another child right now—especially an infant.  As you can see, I was just about to decorate for Christmas when they called and I’ve never gotten back to it.”

Julia did see.  Red tubs were stacked in the hallway.  A few decorations were strewn here and there.

“As Rick says, I have a hard time saying ‘no’.  But this one has definitely given us a run for our money.  They just can’t seem to be able to find someone else for him at Christmas.”

“That’s okay.”  Julia was really trying to reassure herself.  “Don’t worry about your house; You have a lot on your plate.”

“I do…and that’s why I really want this evening to be special.  Rick puts up with so much of my nonsense.  He hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in three weeks.”

Julia nodded.  “Go on and finish getting ready.   I’ll get him fed.”

“Would you?  That would be so awesome.  Rick’s supposed to be picking me up any minute.”

Malachi screamed as Julia changed his wet diaper.  He screamed as she mixed and warmed the formula.  He screamed as she offered him the bottle.  He screamed between anxious sips.  He seemed hungry, but didn’t want to stop screaming even to eat.

Julia waived Carrie out the door, sat in the rocker, and crooned to the wriggling, crying creature in her lap.   He would stop for a moment and she would sigh with relief only to find that he was just recharging his batteries to scream some more.

No wonder the babysitter had called in sick.  No wonder none of her other friends could watch this little guy “so close to Christmas.”  No wonder poor Rick needed an evening out.  This powerful set of lungs that, by all rights, should secure him a lead role as an opera singer somewhere.  No microphone needed.

Julia rocked him.  She walked with him.  She bounced him.

It made no difference.  He cried on.

He was changed.  He was fed.  He was in a warm, dry house.  He was held close by tender arms.  But the unhappy little guy wormed and wiggled, kicked and screamed.  Julia had never experienced anything like it.

It was only 5:30.

Julia mustered all of the mother instinct she could and started talking to the little guy.  When she ran out of small talk, she began to tell him all her troubles.    She explained all about the cancer, the treatments, the medicines, the side effects, the loneliness, the depression.

Perhaps he was sympathetic, but if so, he didn’t show it.  Then she heard herself say, “Malachi, you remind me of myself.  You’re acting like I’ve been acting.”

The revelation was transformative for Julia.  She continued.

“I’m cared for.  I’m fed.  I have clean clothes.  A warm roof over my head.  A loving husband.  A kind family.  But I don’t like my circumstances.  And I’m being a pill.  I’m miserable.  And I’m making everyone around me miserable.”

Somehow, expressing that out loud brought a flood of release.  Even Malachi seemed to sense it.  Or perhaps exhaustion was taking over his tiny frame.  His cries were weakening into a fitful sleep.

Julia continued to hold him and rock, thinking about what she had just said aloud.  She was loved.  She had received excellent health care.  She had a warm, safe place to live.  She had good food to eat.  She had a beautiful life with the man of her dreams.  Why was she acting like a screaming infant?  Why was she putting Stuart, of all people, through such misery?  When had she last thanked Stuart for standing with her through this traumatic year?

When Julia had rocked a long time, and when her soul had found a place of peace, she gently laid Malachi back in his crib.   It was only 6:30.  She tried to call Stuart.  There was no answer so she left him a quick message.

“Hope you’re having a good evening! Love you!”  she said in the happiest voice she had used in a long, long time.

The sudden calm sparked something else inside her.  Her years of babysitting were replaying in her mind.  Not only did the kids love her best, the parents did too.  She prided herself in never letting parents come home to a messy house.

She began to load the dishwasher.  She folded a mountain of laundry and started more.  She swept the floor and wiped the counters.  Then she eyed the stack of tubs and the untrimmed tree.  Did she dare?

She dared.

It was a pre-lit, fake tree and the lights were the soft gold color she liked so much.  She laughed as she thought about how disappointed she had been with the stark white lights.  Why had she made such a big deal about that?  Stuart deserved a medal for putting up with her.  Quickly, the tree came to life with a bucket of red, blue, and silver bulbs.  She found a spool of silver ribbon and began to twist it around and around.  An enormous red bow made the perfect crown on the top.

Julia felt the best she had felt since…she couldn’t remember when.  She found herself humming softly and even started playing some soft Christmas music on her phone.  She pranced…maybe even danced a few steps.

She was surprised Stuart hadn’t called back, so she sent him a quick text.  “Sorry about earlier.  I know you’re trying.  I love you.” 

Julia was exhausted but happy when Rick and Carrie pulled into the driveway.  They thanked her again and again, glancing around the orderly home, illuminated by the glow of the tree.  Carrie even had a tear or two in her eyes.  Stockings were hanging over the fireplace and the table was set with candles and garland.

Rick pressed some cash into Carrie’s hand.  She tried to refuse, but they insisted.

Even though she was tired, Julia decided to take the long way home, around the block.  There were a lot of young families in the officer housing and many had their houses decorated with lights and blow up yard ornaments.  She had yet to go out to see them.

She was humming softly to herself as she turned the corner.  Then something caught her eye.

It was Stuart’s truck. 

Stuart’s truck was parked in Eric and Olivia Green’s driveway.  Eric, she knew, was deployed.  Only Olivia would be home.  It was 10:15 pm.  There was only one soft light on that she could see; everything else was dark and still. 

The joy that she had permitted back into her life began escaping like air from a bike tire punctured by a nail.  Why?  Why would Stuart be at Olivia’s house?  Why would he lie to her about working late?  Why…just when she was starting to feel good again…this?

Julia stumbled into her house and sank onto the couch.  It seemed as if she was going to lose Stuart too.  The only thing she had left.

She looked up at the tree they had decorated together only the night before. 

The porcelain ornament she had admired was illuminated by the ultra-white lights.  The smiling face seemed to be taunting her.  The photo told the fake story.  The staged version.  In real life, there had been a large, messy splat. 

Perhaps, in that moment, one year ago, she should have been a little less confident and a little more cautious.  She remembered lying on that bridge, tangled in her dress, with the white fur cape choking her under the chin for an unfortunate moment.  She had that choking feeling again. This time, she was not laughing.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there before she heard Stuart’s truck pull up outside.  She didn’t know what to do, but she knew she couldn’t face him.  Quickly, she grabbed a blanket, curled up, and pretended to be asleep.

Check back soon for part 4.

Posted on by lgandre

A Year Ago, at Christmas (Part 2)

Woodstock, Vermont at Christmas

It was dark when Stuart slipped away the next morning.  Julia stayed under the covers.  The night didn’t seem to want to give way to light.  In fact, it seemed like it had been dark forever and winter had just officially begun.  Julia finally drug herself from the bed to the living room.  She plugged in the tree and just sat looking at it for a few moments.  It was a pretty tree…despite the pasty white lights.

She didn’t feel great.  But then, she never seemed to feel like herself anymore.  She had lost track of what was the disease itself, what was her body struggling to heal from surgery, what were the side effects of the meds, and what was in her head as the side effect of the side effects.

One year ago, she would not have dreamed that she would hear the word “cancer” come out of a doctor’s mouth directed at her.  When she had been snapping selfies in Paris and London, it had not seemed possible that in a matter of weeks, her world would come crashing down.

First, there had been the disappointment of being sent to nowhere, New York instead of Hawaii, as they had expected.  She had anticipated leaving her job, friends, family, and church, but thought she was about to exchange it all for a few years in a vacation paradise.  Oh, how she hated it when things didn’t go as planned. 

It wasn’t quite so difficult for Stuart because it meant being united with his best friend, Eric, whom he had gone to school with at West Point.  Eric was soon deployed though, leaving just Olivia and their three kids nearby and they were busy with school activities.

Then, there had been the crushing blow of going to the doctor with what she thought was morning sickness and finding out (after a forever long series of tests), that it was actually an estrogen-fed cancer that was going to rob her of her dream of motherhood. 

Life had never been the same since that moment.   Her body, they told her, would heal.  But her soul? She was sure her soul would never be whole again.

Here, away from everyone she loved and all the places that made her feel comfortable, she had sunk into a very great darkness.  The harsh New York winter had only seemed to this southern girl like a dramatic finale to the dreams dying inside of her.

Most days she managed to put dinner of some kind on the table.  That was about the extent of her daily agenda as her desire to go out, to meet people, and to build a life in Watertown seemed futile (past the effort that it took to manage her diagnosis, of course).  Cancer, it seemed, was a full-time job.

Stuart seemed to be home less and less and their interactions were less and less enjoyable.  She couldn’t blame him.  The medicines had wreaked havoc with her emotions.  Truth be told, she didn’t want to be around herself.  But in this, she had no choice.

The door bell rang.  Julia hesitated for a moment.  It was 10:00 am but she was still un-showered and without makeup.  Her sweats hung on her like a flag of surrender.  That was one good thing that came of all this—she had lost the stubborn pounds that her early thirties and Chandra’s cooking had delivered.

Julia decided to answer it, but by the time she got there, there was just a basket of goodies on the front porch.  The deliverer was getting back into her mini van—it was the XO’s wife.  Julia recognized her minivan from up the street, even though it was seldom there.  Carrie—Julia was pretty sure that was her name—was into everything it seemed.  Everyone liked her and was a little in awe of her.  She had stopped by and introduced herself right after Stuart and Julia had moved on base.  She had brought them dinner, in fact.

Carrie had put her number in Julia’s phone “in case she needed anything” but Julia had never used it, until now.  “Thanks for the goodies!”  she texted.

“You’re welcome!”  Carrie texted back immediately.  “Sorry I couldn’t stay.  I had a sleeping baby in the car.”

A sleeping baby.

Julia’s eyes filled with tears again.  Something she had always wanted.  Something she would never have.  It was so unfair.  It was too much.  This maddening cancer was the destruction of every plan she ever made.  Every hope she ever held. 

The tears began to fall.  Again.  Not silently.  Not slipping down her cheeks.  When Julia cried, she ugly cried. She cried in throbs and torrents.  She cried until she was red and swollen.  Her eyes got fuzzy.  Her head hurt.  She felt sicker than the sick that she usually felt.

And this had been the story of her life day after day for the past several months. 

The flights to Boston to visit the specialist there had added up quickly.  By the time they booked hotels and rental cars, the credit card balance had run up and showed no signs of coming down any time soon.  With Julia not working, it seemed like they were in a financial downward spiral.  Stuart told her not to worry about it, but she did.  Every day, every dime, she worried.  This was not the way it was supposed to be.

The phone rang.  It was Stuart. 

“Hello.”  Julia did her best to take the tears out of her voice, but there was no hiding them.

“Julia?”  Stuart sounded discouraged and Julia felt bad.  “Just checking on you.”

“I-I’m fine,”  Julia choked into the phone.  Fooling no one.

“I wanted to make sure you remembered I wouldn’t be home until late tonight.”

“Yes.”

“Anything I can do for you?”

Julia knew she would cry if she tried to answer…she weighed her options.  Cry.  Say nothing.  Hang up.  There were no good options.

Stuart waited a moment and then his frustration came out.  “I’m trying, Julia.  What do you want me to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do.”  Julia’s voice had more of an edge than she wanted.  She was trying to communicate that she understood and didn’t expect him to fix it.  But he took it as an insult.  A reminder that he was powerless against this mess cancer had made of their life together.

Stuart did what Julia wished she had done and said goodbye and hung up.

Then she cried again.

Her phone buzzed again but she didn’t check it right away.  It may be Stuart, still angry and trying to vent his frustration.  She didn’t feel like she could take it.  Or, perhaps he was sorry and begging her forgiveness.  She wasn’t ready to give it.

Stuart was right.  He was trying.  His mom was trying.  His friends were trying.  Several of their wives had periodically checked on her and even asked if they could come sit with her.  Eric’s wife, Olivia, had dropped by a few times but she and her cute children were a bit much at this moment.  Especially while the pain of childlessness was so raw.  

She suspected Stuart was somehow behind Carrie’s attempted visit.  He was pushing her to try to make some friends.  But for just a moment more, as trapped as she felt in her pain and aloneness, she couldn’t bear to step outside of it.  

The first year of marriage would have been challenging anyway.  Julia hadn’t known that Stuart woke up in the middle of the night and blew his nose like a foghorn.  Or that he loaded the dishwasher wrong.  Or that his method of matching and storing socks was entirely incompatible with hers.   He couldn’t say no to a request for money—a story only told by their joint account and credit card bill.  And he didn’t like some of her favorite recipes…a preference he had managed to hide during all of those dinners on the fifth floor.

But now that the hormone blocker had completely robbed her of her connection with common sense, those small things were driving a wedge and they seemed to be drifting further and further.  Especially when it seemed that there would never be a baby to tie them together.

Her phone buzzed again.  Julia checked it this time.  It was Carrie.

“Is there any chance you’re free this evening?”  was the first, unanswered text.

Then, “I hate to bother you, but it’s Rick’s birthday and I bought tickets to a Christmas concert a month ago.  Our sitter just cancelled on me because she is sick and I can’t seem to find anyone else this close to Christmas.”

Julia’s first impulse was a quick no.  But the longer she thought about it, the more she softened to the idea.  Stuart would not be home.  There was no need to cook dinner and no one to share it with if she did.  Carrie was always doing things for others—Julia knew that much.  She also knew that Carrie’s own kids were grown and gone.  Among the hundreds of other things she did, she took in foster kids.  That sleeping baby would have been one of those. She loved babies. Why not sit in Carrie’s house with a baby instead of here alone?

“Sure.”  She texted back.  “What time?”

Posted on by lgandre · 4 Comments

A Year Ago, at Christmas (Part 1)

Woodstock, Vermont at Christmas

Could it really be that it was only one year ago? 

Julia opened the package and was surprised when she pulled out a porcelain heart ornament.  She studied the happy couple forever memorialized on its front.  Her own eyes greeted her.  They were bright and shining.  You couldn’t see Stuart’s eyes in that particular pose, but his strong arms were engulfing her and his gaze was directed to the glittering stone on her left hand.

She had picked out the ring, of course.  They had made payments on it for months; in fact, he had worked a remodel job on the side over Thanksgiving weekend so they could get it paid off in time.  Julia had had her heart set on a Christmas engagement from the time she was a little girl.  Clearly, there were many Hallmark movies involved.

She had picked the charming town of Woodstock, Vermont.  Well, Stuart had officially picked it, she had just planned and hinted and planned and suggested.  If a light dusting of snow could have been scheduled, she would have done that too.  But it turned out that she didn’t need to; God had sent it as if to show His blessing on that happy Christmas Eve moment.  What a perfect day that had been.

Perfect doesn’t mean all went as Julia planned, of course.  Just like a gemstone needs a few imperfections here and there to show it isn’t a fake, those tiny flaws are what gives an engagement character and turns a simple event into a story.   

Stuart and Julia’s perfect engagement had had one especially notable mishap.  When Julia had turned to see Stuart kneeling in front of the iconic covered bridge, she realized that as many times as she had planned and dreamed of this moment, she had never figured out exactly what to say.   She had picked the background.  She had coached the photographer on what angle to shoot from.  She had even chosen the time of day based on the lighting and cloud cover.  And yet, she had not figured out what to say.

“Yes” seemed like far too weak of a response.  Far too common and ordinary.  But, for lack of options, she had said it anyway.  And, when words continued to fail her, she had followed it with another “yes…yes…YES!”  Then, because the only word she could think of still didn’t seem to be enough (despite being repeated multiple times), she had flung herself at Stuart who was rising off the nearly numb knee that had been so bravely placed on the icy walk.  It wouldn’t have been a problem except that Stuart, who was not expecting her to try to jump into his arms, and who was still awkwardly trying to obtain his balance, had slid on the ice bringing them both down with a mighty splat.

Julia’s burgundy dress and white fur shawl had tangled and twisted in such a way that would have made getting up difficult even if the walk had not been slippery, but there was no real harm done.  So, when the two had finally found their land legs, and when the ring had been properly placed on Julia’s fourth finger, they were both laughing.  They laughed about it for days afterward…the big ”yes…yes…YES!”    And then the epic splat.

Stuart was such a good sport.  Never had Julia been more sure of herself than when she gave that “yes.”  He was a squared-away Army captain.  Quiet and confident, healthy and muscular. He was good with people—especially kids.  Best of all, he loved Jesus and he loved her—even with her all her OCD intensity.  Yes, Stuart had been worth the wait.  The long wait.  That part of Julia’s life hadn’t gone quite as planned; but at 31, she still felt that there was time…just enough time to make her dreams of motherhood come true…three or four times over.

Julia pulled out her phone to glance through the photos of that day again.  Perhaps she should have picked one for their Christmas card.  The engagement photos were more Christmasy; but a wedding photo had just seemed more appropriate.  The wedding had been on an equally glorious day in May—a day that had been picked out long before the December engagement. 

The couple had tied the knot in Florence, Italy with a handful of family and friends.  Stuart had a full three weeks of leave and they had made the most of it—visiting many of the European highlights.  Julia had scoured many a travel blog and read every review until their plans had been refined and polished down to where to eat breakfast and when to catch a train.  They had spent some time at Lake Como, the Dolomites, and Rome before flying over to Paris and finally London. 

It was a dream wedding and a dream honeymoon. By the time it was over, their bank accounts were drained to dust, but alas, they concluded it was worth it.  They were both young and strong and willing to work to build them up again.

Julia noticed the time and glanced out the window to see Stuart making his way up the driveway.  There was no snow tonight.  Just a bitter chill that seemed to linger day after day in this dark, lonely place. 

Stuart had a shopping bag which he perched on top of the plastic tub of ornaments that was sitting on the floor.

“I got your lights.”  He saw the ornament she was holding.  “Looks like you got the package from my Mom?  She said she sent something for you.” 

Julia wrinkled her nose the tiniest bit.  She should have known that ornament was from her mother-in-law.  Stuart’s Mom was…hard to describe.

Stuart must have seen the look on Julia’s face.  “She’s trying.”

Ah, that was the word.  “Trying.”  Stuart’s mom was always trying.  It seemed like she was always trying to worm her way into things.  If there was one good thing about the assignment at Fort Drum, in northern New York, it was that it was a world away from Stuart’s parents. 

Julia nodded and made her way over to the bag he had set on the tub of ornaments.  Last year, she had decorated the tree immediately after Thanksgiving.  She was in a fifth story apartment in Fayetteville then and she loved to look up each time she pulled into the complex and see a square section of golden lights shining down as if to say, “Welcome home!” and “Merry Christmas!”

Her apartment had been full of good smells and sounds as she and her roommate, Chandra, baked their way through two issues of Southern Living and one of Magnolia Home.  Even with the knowledge that she had a wedding dress to fit, she had gained 5 pounds last December alone.  And that was without the sourdough bread.  Oh, don’t get started thinking about that sourdough bread, she told herself.

“These aren’t the right lights,”  Julia observed looking into the bag.  “These are the really pasty white kind.  They’re too…too…sterile.  Like were trying to light a department store.”

Stuart didn’t respond.  Julia wasn’t sure if he hadn’t heard her or if he just didn’t care, so she continued.  “I like the ones with more of a gold tone.  You get more of a warm glow.”

“Okay.  I got you.”  Stuart’s response was a bit testy.  Julia wasn’t quite sure why.  She was just trying to explain why they were the wrong lights.  She avoided reminding him that she had been specific as to what kind she wanted before he had left.

He did seem to understand, though, because after a moment, he replied, “that’s all they had left.  I went three places looking for the kind you wanted.”

“That’s why I wanted to order them.”  She reminded him.  “So you wouldn’t have to do all the running around.”

Stuart seemed even more annoyed.  “Look, exchange them if you must.  I wanted to have them tonight because I have to work late the rest of the week.  If we don’t decorate that tree tonight, we shouldn’t bother.”

Julia stopped.  Probably not a good idea to pick an argument with a cold, hungry man.  To his point, it was already December 21st.  And yes, he had told her he had a lot to get done so he could take off some time at Christmas.

She had already set the table and had been doing her best to keep dinner warm.  She quickly started pulling the pots off the stove.  Admittedly, it was nothing like Chandra used to make.  Last year, Stuart used to come join them for dinner most nights and a few Southern Living recipes may have made an appearance in those meals as well.  Julia loved to decorate almost as much as Chandra loved to cook and the result was some tables that looked like they belonged in a magazine of their own.  Those were some happy winter nights.  

Stuart’s mind must have been elsewhere too, because the silence hung between them for several minutes until they had said grace. 

“How was your day?”  Julia finally ventured.

“Fine,”  Stuart replied.  And then, as if sorry for his shortness, “How are you feeling?”

Julia felt a few tears welling up in her eyes; but she tried not to let them take over.  Stuart dropped his eyes down to his plate.

Silence again.

How much things can change in one short year.

Check back tomorrow for Part 2.

————————————————————————–

Want more? Find last year’s Christmas story here.

Posted on by lgandre · 1 Comment

Christmas Alone – 4

Part Four – A Celebration of Christ

As they were nearing home, Patrick was getting hungry. He had an idea. “What if we go to Dennys for lunch? It’s not like your cooking, of course, but there’s someone there you should meet.” 

“Sure… actually, do you mind if we swing by and get Gram? She’s probably through most of the ritual mourning and tired of being home by herself.” 

Betsy was kind. He liked that about her. So even though he didn’t love the idea, he agreed. It was Christmas after all. No one should be alone. That was the whole reason he was going to Dennys to begin with. 

“She was such a good cat.” Gram said as she got in the car. Not ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’ or even, ‘Merry Christmas.’ 

“I’m sorry, Mrs Little.” 

He meant it. Maybe Betsy was rubbing off on him. 

“I thought you should meet Chandra. She’s the lady that tried to help save Sunshine and got us connected with Dr. Snyder.”

Patrick wondered for a second if he shouldn’t have said that. Mrs. Little might be angry at the vet for not saving her cat. But she sniffed a few times and nodded. 

To their surprise, Dennys was a madhouse on Christmas Day. The place was loud and the hostess informed them there would be a 20-25 minute wait. The vestibule was packed and any time the door opened, a cold blast of air numbed the senses. 

Two young boys sat on a waiting bench. One was engrossed in an iPad while the other was driving a remote control car between the customers. They had clearly been there a while. 

Patrick was questioning whether his idea was a good one when he caught a glimpse of Chandra, carrying two trays of food and nearly tripping over a tray stand that was draped over her arm. 

He waved at her and she nodded recognition but the distraction cost her. Right then, the boy with the remote control car sent it racing directly in front of her. She swerved to miss it and in the process, one tray tipped, sliding plates of pancakes and chicken fingers onto a nearby table. Not the reception he had anticipated.

The car was not seen by the customers; but they were clearly not pleased.

“Rory!” Chandra snapped. Then she turned around and started to apologize to the family whose food had just been dumped on their table. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The manager quickly appeared on the scene and said some things to Chandra that Patrick couldn’t hear. Chandra started to walk toward the vestibule and Patrick thought she was coming to say hello.

“Hi Chandra. I wanted to tell you thank you for your help and try to give you some company today. But it looks like you’re pretty overrun. Merry Christmas to you, though.”

“It’s not a Merry Christmas.” Tears were welling in her eyes. “I’m going to lose my mind. My kids’ dad and his wife and her kids all got a surprise trip to Disney from her parents.  They flew out this morning. My parents had left town a few hours before that. Of course, I couldn’t take off, we’re short staffed as it is.  My neighbor who sometimes watches the boys is sick. So my boys have spent their Christmas sitting here.” She gestured toward the two boys on the bench. “This place has been busier than the mall on Black Friday.” She looked desperate. 

The mall! Patrick had another idea. 

“This is my friend Betsy and her grandma. We’re just kicking around this afternoon. Why don’t you let us take them to the mall? We’ll let them ice skate or watch a Christmas movie or something.”

Chandra turned around toward the scene she’d just left. The manager was trying to smooth things over while the bus boy cleaned up the mess. Then she surveyed the three of them. 

“Well…yes. I-I think I have to say ‘yes.’  Let me just get your number real quick. We’ll connect as soon as I get off.”

“We’ll take good care of them, I promise.”

Chandra hurriedly introduced her boys, Rory and David before bustling back to work. 

“I hope this is okay?” He turned to Betsy and Gram. “I guess I should have asked you first.”

“Goodness no!” Mrs. Little was quick to answer. “You don’t have to ask us. Kicking around with these boys at the mall sounds like great fun, doesn’t it Betsy? I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve ice skated.”

Patrick tried to picture Mrs. Little in ice skates, but he could not. Regardless, her mood seemed to have improved considerably.

She kept talking as Betsy helped the boys get their coats on and pack away their toys. The gaggle was soon stuffing itself in the Tesla. Mrs. Little had to sit up front while Betsy made the boys comfortable in the back. They seemed instantly at ease with her and glad to be getting out of Denny’s. 

“Sure, you can have one.” She heard Betsy say and he looked in the rear view mirror. The boys were helping themself to the cookies Mrs. Little had given him on Sunday. Evidently, the box had been found. 

“What a strange Christmas.” Betsy’s words from earlier echoed in his head as they found a parking space and slushed their way inside. They satisfied their hunger at a soft pretzel stand next to the rink. 

“Thank you.” David was polite enough to say.

“Is this better than sitting at Denny’s?” Betsy asked, fishing for a smile. David shrugged, but Rory nodded. “I hate that place. It smells funny.”

Soon, Betsy was lacing up skates and the four of them were bobbing their way around the oval while Mrs. Little looked on, sipping a cup of hot tea and smiling. 

It was a strange Christmas. Patrick had not opened a single gift. He had not had any good meals. He had not spent even one minute with family. 

And yet… and yet it was a good Christmas just the same. It was made up of the simple love and kindness that all good Christmases should be made of. 

Christmas is, after all, a celebration of Christ. What could be a more fitting celebration of Christ than meeting the needs of the prisoner, the widow, and the fatherless? 

He thought back to that moment a few short days ago when he had stood staring at that wall of paint chips. He had felt so alone then… so different from the way he felt now. Reagan, David, Rory, Betsy, Mrs. Little, and Chandra. Even a short time could turn new faces into friends when he chose to think of others instead of himself. 

Patrick’s phone rang and he tried to answer it. “Hi Mom… Yes… in fact… Can I call you back? It’s loud in here and… No, I’m not painting. I’m with some friends… I’ll tell you about it later. Love you. Merry Christmas to you too.”

When the Tesla pulled back up to Mrs. Little’s home, the lights were coming on. Patrick was pretty sure there were more fake snowmen in her yard than there were real ones in all of Colorado but he didn’t care. He tried to think of a reason to stay, but he knew Marley really needed to be let out. Sometimes it stinks to own a dog. 

“Thanks for a great day!” Betsy said as she jumped out. And then, “You know, we never did paint that bathroom.” 

“You promised to help.”

She nodded. A tiny gleam in her eye. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Me too.” He agreed. 

And he meant it.

When he got through the door of his own home, Marley was howling. Patrick didn’t blame the little guy. 

“Okay, okay. Don’t worry, I’m taking you on a walk,” he said while clipping on his leash. Marley wasted no time tugging him toward the door.   

As soon as the cold blast hit, Marley turned around as if to give Patrick a reproving look.  “Hey, don’t give me that. Even Mom said she hoped I wouldn’t spend Christmas alone.”

Marley didn’t stop raising a fuss until they reached the hedge and he had relived himself.

“Feel better now?”  Patrick asked his furry friend. Marley immediately busied himself with sniffing into the hedge.  “C’mon, really?  It’s 25 degrees out here!” Patrick continued his monologue aimed at Marley, but Marley was intent on something and not to be dissuaded.

Marley started barking again and Patrick leaned over to see what had him worked up.  

“What in the…?”

Tucked in a small hole in the hedge was a pathetic looking white cat. There was no collar. It was thin and shivering.  Even with Marley’s excited barking, it didn’t try to run. 

Patrick’s mind processed quickly. He didn’t recognize this as one of the neighborhood cats. He couldn’t leave it outside in this cold. He couldn’t expect it to get along with Marley. A plan was forming.

Thirty minutes later, Mrs Little’s phone gave a ding. She had a text from a blocked number. 

“Your Christmas present is on the porch.” Is all the text said. 

Betsy opened the front door and returned carrying a large box. A cat head soon popped up over the side—a warm bath and can of tuna had done wonders.  She had a tag around her neck that read, “My name is Snowflake. But you can call me Sunshine if you want. Merry Christmas.”

“That Patrick!” Mrs Little said, without missing a beat. “That was so thoughtful!  I knew I picked a good one for you.”

“Wait…what?  Gram, what are you talking about?”

“Well, you know. Some things need a little encouragement.”

“Gram!”  Some pieces were falling into place. “Did you…did you feed Sunshine that chocolate on purpose to get Patrick over here?  I thought that story seemed really strange.” 

“You might say I made the cookies easily accessible.”  She replied.  “You said it yourself, Sunshine needed to be put down.  And I needed a way to get you two together. Patrick wasn’t eating my cooking.”

“Gram!  You beast!”

“I didn’t actually plan to take her to the vet, just keep Patrick here with me somehow until you got home; but he got it all set up. It worked out in the end though.  He’s happy, you’re happy, and even Sunshine is happy.”

“Gram!  Let’s not get ahead of ourselves! All we have is a vague plan to paint a bathroom. That’s it.”

“Nonsense.  In fact, he couldn’t have gotten far. Call that boy and tell him you’re cooking.  Christmas is a celebration of Christ. We’re not done celebrating just yet!”

“Gram, you’re a mess!”  Betsy protested but she reached for her phone nonetheless.

And that is the story of Patrick’s Christmas—a wall of paint chips, a cat, a dog—a simple day filled with kindness. 

And that is why, when he pulled into his driveway the final time, he said to Marley,

“This was the best kind of Christmas.”

And he meant it. 

Posted on by lgandre

Christmas Alone – 3

Part 3 – A Strange Christmas

“Patrick?” Betsy’s pleasant voice greeted him over the phone. “Hey, I hope it’s okay that Gram gave me your number. I just wanted to let you know that we won’t need a cat sitter today after all.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Turns out Sunshine wasn’t able to survive the stomach pumping. So… yeah… I do feel a little bad about giving Gram a hard time yesterday. Sunshine was as stiff as a board this morning.”

“Oh… wow… I’m so sorry…”

“Yeah… me too. Anyway, I think Gram is going to stay home and mourn for the cat so I’m just going to drive down and back myself. I should still be back around lunch and I’ll help with the bathroom if you haven’t finished.” 

“Okay, yeah… that’s fine.” Patrick was struggling to find words to say. “You know, if you wanted, I could drive down there with you.   I mean, to give you some company for the drive…if you wanted…”

“Are you sure? I mean… I’ll come help paint either way.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Patrick didn’t want to admit that he didn’t really feel confident starting the project without her. And truthfully, he actually liked the thought of getting to know Betsy better… even if it meant a trip to prison. 

Maybe Betsy was anxious to see Reagan. Maybe she was in a hurry to get gone before Gram changed her mind and decided to join them. Either way, she quickly jumped in as soon as Patrick pulled up to the curb. Her hands were empty except for two cups of hot chocolate. She gave one to him. 

The conversation flowed easily as they headed south. The roads were clear and relatively empty. Patrick didn’t ask about Reagan, but he did slowly learn other pieces of Betsy’s story.  Betsy was the oldest of the family and Reagan was the youngest. She didn’t say, but Patrick guessed Betsy was mid to late twenties.  Reagan was the youngest.

Their dad had worked mostly in offshore drilling so the family had lived all over the world and traveled extensively in between the frequent moves. 

“I didn’t know my times tables but I went in every Egyptian pyramid and snorkeled in the Mediterranean. I lived on three different continents before I knew who Abraham Lincoln was. Mom called it homeschool, but it probably bordered on truancy.”

“I bet you learned a lot though.”

“You know, we did in our own way. And we were a close family. Mom was a good mom— I didn’t mean to give you a different impression but I guess she is what you’d call a ‘free spirit.’ The closet she came to cooking was pouring batter in a hotel waffle iron. She couldn’t be bothered with things like housework.”

“I guess if your dad was in the oil and gas industry, she didn’t have to?”

“Well, I didn’t understand it at the time, but basically it was feast or famine. Dad would make a lot of money while he worked on a specific job. But sooner or later, the contract would run out and he’d get laid off. We usually ended up back in Denver living with Gram and Grampa for a few weeks or months until he got another job. Then we’d be off again.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes… I guess so. I didn’t know any different. I enjoyed traveling enough that I kept it up during college and even taught English in China for a few years after. I’m kinda burned out on it now though. Most of the family is in Texas, but Denver is the closest thing I have to meaningful roots.”

“Is that what brought you back to Colorado?” 

“Well… yes and no… I just came here in August when… well… Reagan got in trouble.” Her voice kinda faded out and Patrick surmised she didn’t really want to talk about that. “But I have a lot of happy memories in Denver, so it might not be a bad place to settle down. Besides, I think it’s good for Gram to have someone nearby. Hard to tell if my family will stay in Dallas. Dad’s still in the oil and gas industry… and I guess he always will be. I don’t think he can afford to retire.”

When they arrived at the detention facility, Betsy took over. She knew where to park, where to enter. “Don’t bring anything.” She instructed. “I’d just take your ID out of your wallet and leave the rest.” She did the same. 

Betsy had clearly done this many times. She smiled at the detention officers and called many of them by name as they went through the reception and screening. She seemed confident, but Patrick saw her eyes well up once or twice. He pretended not to notice. 

Reagan was a copy and paste of Betsy. Slightly younger and taller, but he wore her same cheerful expression despite the ugly prison garb. He gave Betsy a hug and then turned to Patrick.

“This is a friend of Gram’s.” Betsy introduced him. It led into the story of Sunshine’s sickness and sudden death. 

“Good grief, how long has that cat been alive?” Regan asked. “I don’t know if I even remember life before that cat. In fact, I’d probably believe you if you told me BC stood for ‘before cat’.”

“We may be confusing her and cats before her, but Gram definitely always had a cat when we came to visit. It always seemed weird and nasty to us because in most of the world we had been, animals don’t live in people’s houses.”

“Remember when we were in Egypt and I begged Mom to let me keep that puppy I found?”

“The one that eventually bit you?”

“Yeah… that was the only time I remember her taking me to a clinic of any kind.”

“This Christmas will probably go down in Little family history as the year Sunshine had her sunset.”

“Like the famous Christmas of the suitcase!” The two of them laughed together and Betsy explained. “We didn’t typically get gifts for Christmas.” She began. 

“Other than our stockings, which always had candy and a toothbrush.” Reagan interjected. 

“Right. We didn’t have a lot of stuff period because we moved so much. Anyway, when we traveled, Mom’s rule was, you pack it, you carry it. We each had a tattered backpack. We would go for weeks on just what we could carry in our backpacks. No lie.”

Reagan nodded agreement. 

“One fall she had us take a particularly grueling trip that went through like twelve European countries. We were going through all these picturesque little towns climbing castles and bell towers— stuff that might have been fun except that we were all carrying twenty pounds of stuff on our backs everywhere we went.”

“Mom had us in a different place every night so there was nowhere to leave our luggage. Those packs sure got heavy by the end of the day.”

“We whined and complained so much that evidently we wore her down. That Christmas, there were three big boxes wrapped and waiting for us on Christmas. We all got a small rollerboard suitcase.”

“We thought we had won the lottery.” Reagan reminisced. “Suitcases on wheels! I remember mine was blue, yours was green, and Sophie’s was pink.”

“The worst part though was Mom never really let us use them.” Betsy mused. 

“You can’t take rollerboard suitcases up bell towers!”

“Remember how frustrated she used to get paying a Euro every time we needed to use the WC?”

“Yeah, she used to try to get us kids in for free.” They both laughed. “When they wouldn’t, she’d tell us to hold it… ugh. That was miserable.”

The conversation wandered a little until someone gave them a signal that they had five minutes left. Patrick excused himself thinking the two of them might want a few minutes alone. “I’ll get the car warmed up.” He offered, and no one argued. 

When Betsy came out to the car, it was clear she had been crying. He didn’t know what to say, so he turned on the radio and the two listened to Christmas music in silence as they headed back toward Denver. 

“I hate goodbyes.” She finally said as her sole explanation.  It was quiet again until she mused, “Such a strange Christmas.  Thanks for coming with me though. Reagan’s world is pretty small right now. I think it was fun to see a new face. He said you should come again sometime.”

“I’d be glad to.” Patrick said. And he meant it. 

(fourth and final installment coming soon!)

Posted on by lgandre

Christmas Alone – 2

Part Two – A Cat Named Sunshine

Christmas Eve brought more frigid weather. There was no fresh snow in the forecast, so all indicators were that it was going to be a gray Christmas. Occasionally, a car would slush by out front, but for the most part, all was still. 

Patrick turned on the TV. He tried to get lost in music. He scrolled Instagram. It definitely did not help to see what everyone else was doing today. 

He tried to call his dad, but Mom answered.

“Patrick!  We miss you, honey.  What are you up to?”

“Projects around the house.”  Patrick tried not to sound as lonely as he felt.

“I hate it that you’re there alone. What are you doing tomorrow. Will you be with Ben?”

“No. His in-laws are in town. What’s Dad up to?”

“He and Jake are out smoking pork butt for dinner tonight. I’ll tell him you called.  Christy is making her famous cheesecake.  I’m about to take the boys to the mall. They want to get something for their mom.

His family felt very far away. 

“I sure hope you find someone to spend Christmas with.”

Patrick mumbled some reply and the two said their goodbyes. The talk about food though was making Patrick hungry. Maybe even a bit hangry. 

He surveyed his food options. He could defrost a pound of ground beef and make himself a burger or he could open a can of soup. Not exactly smoked pork butt and cheesecake. He glanced at the paint can. He would start… soon… just as soon as he could find something decent to eat. 

He hopped in his car and started to drive. Not many places were open for lunch on Christmas Eve. And there were even fewer in which he would be seen by himself on such a day. He soon passed the mall which was heavily decorated for the occasion. Signs boasted an indoor ice skating rink, movie theater, and last minute shopping. If his family were here, they could have passed a happy afternoon just puttering through; but by himself, it didn’t seem worth the effort to find parking. 

“Dennys it is,” He grumbled, eyeing the “Open” sign glowing in the window. It was nearly 2:00 p.m. and he felt the need to settle on something.

A thin girl with a frizzy braid came to the table. It was purple. At least some of it was. A string of earrings went up her ear lobe. She had long, gaudy nails. Patrick wasn’t sure exactly what color you would call them. Obviously fake eyelashes curled around her eyes. The saddest part was that she probably would have been a pretty girl if she wasn’t trying so hard. “Chandra” was printed on her name tag. 

“Are you just passing through?” She asked, attempting small talk. The room was fairly empty so she was probably bored. 

“No, I live here.”

“Have any plans for Christmas?” She tried again. As if eating alone at Dennys did not make it obvious his calendar had a lot of space on it. 

“Well, I’m going to paint a bathroom. Does that count?”

She gave a quick laugh. “I guess that beats what I got. My kids are all with my Ex. I live with my parents, but my dad is working today and tomorrow they leave for a cruise. So I’m just waiting tables through the holidays for extra cash.”

“I’m sorry.” He felt like something more profound or encouraging was in order, but he couldn’t really think of anything. 

“I’m sorry you have to paint a bathroom.”

“It’s okay.” Patrick didn’t want to sound like a charity case. “I’ll take the meatloaf and mashed potatoes.” He said it quickly to change the subject. 

Patrick was further saved from small talk by the ringing of his phone. He quickly answered it.

“Is this Patrick?”

“Yes?”

“Patrick. This is Mrs. Little.”

“Oh, hello Mrs. Little.” Patrick tried to hide his disappointment. He had no idea how she got his phone number and was pretty sure he wasn’t glad.

“Patrick, glad I got you. I hope you are having a good Christmas Eve!”

“You too. Uh, thanks for the goodies by the way.” He added, hoping she would not ask how he liked the baked goods. He could not honestly remember what he had done with them after he got in the car yesterday. 

“Patrick…I’m so sorry to ask you at this last minute. I just couldn’t think of anyone else. My cat—did you know I have a cat?”

“No ma’am.”

“My cat got into my kitchen this morning and I think she ate a couple chocolate cookies.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Little.”

“I’m really worried about her. She’s acting strange. I feel like I need to take her to the vet. I think she’s having a seizure.” Her voice wavered and Patrick could tell she was close to crying. 

“I…see.” Patrick knew what was coming next and he was wracking his brain trying to come up with a good excuse. 

“I hate to ask you…do you have plans this afternoon? You know I don’t drive…”

“Uh…” Patrick was not eager to get involved. “I guess we should check around and see if the vet is open… I mean… and maybe I could do some quick research and see the effect of chocolate… I… I’ve never heard of chocolate being bad for cats…” His voice faded out. 

As Patrick was feebly trying to find a gracious way to avoid spending Christmas Eve driving around town looking for an open vet, Chandra came up behind him.

“I don’t mean to eavesdrop.” She started. “But chocolate is toxic for cats. if you need a vet, I’ll call my dad for you. He is a vet and his clinic is not far from here. I’m sure I can get you in.”

“Uh, okay…” It seemed there was no escaping this. 

“I hate to see a cat suffer. I’ll ask the kitchen to pack your food to go.”

So much for his quiet lunch. Patrick got Mrs. Little’s address while Chandra headed back to the kitchen for food. When she emerged, she had a bag in one hand. 

“It’s all settled! I just called Maisy, that’s the front desk lady. They’re expecting you. Here is a card with the address. And here’s your food. I put utensils in there for you.”

Patrick tried not to let his aggravation show. Chandra was clearly trying to help. But the process of driving an old lady and a sick cat around town made painting a bathroom quite appealing.  Unfortunately, it seemed he had no choice. 

The dramatic exterior decorations of Mrs. Little’s house seemed to fit her and her big squishy hugs. Lights, tinsel wrapped bushes, and blow up Christmas decorations swallowed the tiny yard and threatened to burn the neighborhood down. 

He stuffed the last of his lunch down and was about to hop out of the car when the front door opened and Mrs. Little came tottering out struggling to carry a softshell carry case. 

He sighed to himself and then jumped out to help. 

“Thank you, Patrick. Thank you so much. Sunshine is so sick. I really didn’t know who to call or what to do. Anyone else I could think of would be busy with family on Christmas Eve. Thank you for doing this!” She reached out to give Patrick a big hug. 

“Let me help you with that…” he reached out to grab the cat, but his escape and evasion plan didn’t work. She was almost crying but that didn’t stop her from talking or from engulfing him in her vice grip. He finally stopped resisting for a second before pushing back. “We’d better hurry. They’re expecting us at the vet.” 

At least there was hope of getting this over quickly. 

Two and a half hours later, as Patrick and Mrs. Little pulled back up to the heavily decorated home, he was surprised to see a small black Mazda in the driveway.

“Oh, Betsy’s home!” Mrs. Little seemed to light up a bit. I’m glad. That girl works so hard. She needs some rest this evening.”

“I’ll carry the cat in for you.” Patrick was thankful the ordeal was almost over. Sunshine had needed her little cat stomach pumped. They had told them to keep a close eye on her for the next 48 hours or so, but for now, she seemed to be sleeping quietly in her carrier. Maybe thanks to being doped up, Patrick wasn’t sure. 

The inside of the house was similar to the outside. Every flat surface was covered—both vertical and horizontal.   Cheap figurines, faded prints, paper garlands, and plastic bows seemed to be the decor of choice.  It was as if she had robbed the dollar store. 

Except one thing. 

When he saw the glistening Christmas tree, he stood and just stared for a second. 

He was no decorator by any stretch, but even his untrained eye could see that it was beautiful. It was a real tree with a simple, tasteful scattering of glass and velvet bulbs in muted tones. Elegant white lights gave them a radiant glow. A garland of brass bells tied it all together and at the top there was a spray of white and gold poinsettias that complemented the scattered bulbs. It looked like it belonged in a fancy hotel lobby. 

Mrs. Little must have seen him eyeing the tree. “Betsy did that. Isn’t it lovely? Sunshine got into my box of Christmas ornaments and got sick…it was a gross mess. I didn’t think we’d have a tree this year, but Betsy went out and bought those to cheer me up. She gets a discount of course on anything she buys at Home Depot…Betsy! “We have company.”

Betsy!? Home Depot?

Patrick connected the name with the girl he had met the day before at the paint department. As she entered the room, he was glad Mrs. Little had tipped him off because she didn’t look anything like he remembered. She was wearing white jeans and an olive green cabled sweater which somehow made her look a little taller and thinner. She was still wearing an apron—this time with a plaid print. Her curly hair was in a soft bun and she had a spoon in one hand.

“Oh good!…Oh, hi!” She recognized Patrick instantly. “How did the bathroom turn out?”

“Well…”

“He took me and Sunshine to the vet this afternoon.” Mrs. Little interrupted. 

“I see… I got your message and managed to get off a little early but when I got home and you weren’t here, I figured you found another ride and I started dinner. It’s almost ready.”

“Patrick, why don’t you stay and eat with us?”

“Yes, please do! We have plenty.”

Patrick would have declined, but frankly, it smelled delicious and the meatloaf he had stuffed down the hatch in the car hadn’t really satisfied. Besides that, he could see past Betsy into the kitchen and it was a bright clean respite from the rest of the cluttered house. 

Another plate was added to the table that had been cleared of the clutter disease infecting all the other surfaces. Hot dishes started arriving. Betsy had made a chicken piccata with fettuccine. Cheesy garlic bread.  Grilled asparagus. Caesar salad. 

The taste did justice to the smell in every way. And the last time Betsy emerged from the kitchen, she had small ramekins with chocolate soufflé—hot from the oven with a small dusting of powdered sugar on top. 

“This is amazing!” Patrick said. And he meant it. 

“Thank you!” Betsy glowed. “I love cooking!” She laughed. “In fact, sometimes I feel like I sell paint to support my cooking habit!”

“She got the baking gene from me.” Mrs. Little chimed in, vying for some of the credit. 

“But I think the rest of the credit rightfully goes to the Food Network.” Betsy retorted. “Mom raised us on yogurt and granola bars. I was so fascinated to see people actually applying heat to food and using knives, pots, and spices!”

She changed the subject back to baking. “It’s true, Gram was always the baker of the family. We baked together any time we came. Even now, we have to negotiate for time in the kitchen during the holidays.”

The conversation turned into the happy retelling of a Home Depot employee Christmas party where everyone was challenged to bring a dessert representing their department. Betsy had found little party favor paint cans and filled them with different colors of pudding—vanilla, chocolate, raspberry, and pistachio. 

She had also given a friend in flooring the idea of square sugar cookies with edible transfers on them that looked like an elaborate tile backsplash. Someone in lumber had brought a gingerbread house. 

Betsy’s whole face lit up as she explained the entry that really won the day. “Someone in lawn and garden brought a sheet cake that they had decorated with a layout of the whole department. It was amazing.It had little miniature trees and plants, a pile of little edible rocks, mulch, the whole deal.”

Patrick actually enjoyed listening to the pratter. The conversation soon turned though as Betsy asked, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow… I’m actually going to try to paint that bathroom.”

“Betsy should help you. She doesn’t just sell paint. She’s a good painter.”

“Well, wish I could.” Betsy mused. “But I’ll be going to Colorado Springs. That will take a good chunk of the day.”

“What time are you leaving?” Mrs. Little asked. “I don’t want you to have to go by yourself, I’ll go with you.”

“But what about Sunshine, Gram? Didn’t you say you have to closely monitor her for the next few days?”

“I’ll just bring her along.”

“And leave her in the car, Gram? It’s supposed to be in the 20s tomorrow.”

“Maybe I can find a warm place to leave her.”

“And what if she isn’t feeling well, Gram? Do you really want to drive to Colorado Springs and back with a sick cat?”

As she talked, Patrick’s respect for Betsy grew. She had opinions, but her tones were thoughtful and not disrespectful. 

And just like that, Patrick heard himself say, “I can drive you both. The Tesla has a pet mode and it can keep a cat warm… or I can stay in the car with her.”

A cat?

Had Patrick really just offered to drive three hours to Colorado Springs and back to spend Christmas with an old lady, her granddaughter, and her sick cat? He didnt even know where they were going or why. 

“That’s kind of you, but…” Betsy started to reply. 

“That’s a great idea!” Mrs. Little jumped at the suggestion. “That would be so nice.”

“Gram, I just have this image in my mind of sick Sunshine vomiting in Patrick’s Tesla… and what if she dies, Gram? Are we going to drive around Colorado on Christmas with a dead cat in the back seat?”

Something about the whole scenario struck Patrick as funny and when Betsy let out a little laugh, he couldn’t help joining in. 

“Betsy!” Mrs. Little was appalled at the suggestion but the laughing was contagious. She let out a chuckle or two before acting offended and huffing over to check on the slumbering feline. 

Betsy got up to clear the dishes and Patrick started to help. “I should feel bad about what I said but honestly…” She laughed again quietly, “I feel bad for that cat. It has had at least eighteen lives. I’m pretty sure it’s blind, deaf, diabetic, anemic, arthritic, and…” Betsy had to pause to think, “going bald!” 

“I heard that!” Mrs. Little snipped from across the room. “You can add hurt feelings to her list of hurts. How would you like it if someone talked about you that way?”

“I’d be too dead to care, Gram. You know that the vet is keeping Sunshine alive because you’re financing his retirement. You spend more on that cat than you do yourself!”

“This was a different vet, Betsy!” Mrs. Little was not fazed by her granddaughter’s opinions and Betsy let it go, chuckling to herself while she made one final plea, “At least let the poor thing rest on Christmas!”

Betsy disappeared into the kitchen with an armload of dishes. Mrs. Little made it a point to hurry over to him. “Betsy’s just embarrassed because she’s going to Colorado Springs to visit her brother tomorrow in the detention center.”

Patrick was so surprised he didn’t know what to say. 

“I heard that!” Betsy’s voice came from the kitchen, mimicking her grandmother’s earlier retort. She appeared back in the doorway. She still hadn’t lost her good nature although the awkwardness of the situation wasn’t lost on her. 

“I’m not embarrassed of Reagan.” She said simply. “And if Patrick wants to come, he’s welcome, of course. I’m sure Reagan would enjoy meeting him. But I think Patrick volunteered to be kind without understanding what he was actually offering.”

“No one should be alone on Christmas. Not you. Not me. Not Patrick.” Mrs. Little retorted. “We should all go together.”

“Well, Gram,” Betsy’s tone was still respectful, “some people might rather be home alone than going to prison to see someone they don’t know with the paint lady, her grandma, and a sick cat. Just sayin’.” And she disappeared again. 

In the end, it was decided that Gram and Betsy would go to Colorado Springs in the morning and Patrick would stay to watch the cat. When they got back, Betsy would come over and help Patrick paint his bathroom. Perhaps Patrick’s Christmas paint fairy dream really would come true.

The drive home that night seemed so different from the one he had made two days before. He was very intrigued by Betsy and could not help trying to put the puzzle pieces together. How did a quality girl like her come from a granola bar eating mom and a high-maintenance grandma? And why was her brother in jail? He wished she had told a little more of her story. But for today, it had been fun just to have a good meal and a pleasant conversation. And perhaps, tomorrow, there was hope to see her again… and paint a bathroom.