First Christmas

by Trevor McCall

  They all said something about being happy to be there with Greta to help her honor her husband. The table then fell into a reflective silence which allowed each of them to remember their losses privately. Mr. Clarke, perhaps thinking the Christmas spirit in the room could use a shot of gingerbread eggnog itself, began to tell a story.

  “Since we are talking about ‘First’ Christmases, let me tell you what I remember about my first Christmas without Annette.” Mr. Clarke looked at Greta and Melissa as he clarified who Annette was for their sakes. “Annette was my wife. She left me five years ago.” Mr. Clarke grimaced at the thought of not having her with him. It took him a moment to find his voice again. “Anyway, I was so sure that first Christmas without her was going to be a disaster.”

  Mr. Clarke shook his head as memories of himself as the helpless person he was then flooded back. “I mean, she used to take care of everything. All the plans, all the decorating.” Mr. Clarke shared a quick glance of commiseration with Aubrey. “Of course, she did all that so I could work.” Mr. Clarke raised his hands into the empty air in front of him, hoping he could use them to dissolve his guilt. “I always let her handle it too. Told myself I was in the middle of the fourth quarter rush, as though that were a reason that held water.”

  “And then there came a day, early in December, when I sat in front of this big stack of cards I’d written to our friends and family.” Mr. Clarke paused to let the poignancy of this memory lessen. He was confident he would be friends with these people for the rest of his life. Him breaking down in a puddle of tears wasn’t the way he wanted them to remember the first time they ate dinner together, when they thought back on it later.

  “You see, as I was sitting there holding the stack of filled out Christmas cards, it occurred to me I didn’t know the addresses for any of the thirty families I had written cards for.” Mr. Clarke held his hands out to the table palms up. This expressive way of speaking with his hands was a thing with him.

  “She had always taken care of it. Not only did I not know any of the addresses, I also didn’t know where she kept the book that had them.” Despite all the effort Mr. Clarke put into holding the tears at bay, something salty and wet welled up in the corner of his left eye. He dabbed at it, while convincing himself he got it before anyone saw. “I felt so lost without her.”

  Mr. Clarke took a sip of gingerbread eggnog to give himself a space to finish his story without shedding more tears. The trick worked. “You never realize how much of a partnership marriage is, until you lose your partner.”

  Melissa raised her glass into the air. “A toast worthy of the Christmas Spirit if ever I heard one.”

  A heartfelt few seconds of clanking glasses ensued between those at the table, as Mr. Clarke gratefully accepted the reception of his story. “Thank you,” he said softly.

  Melissa looked at those around her. Mr. Clarke reminded her of something she wanted to share with the group. No one else at the table looked ready to venture into the silence that followed Mr. Clarke’s story, so she seized her opportunity. “I had a ‘Christmas Card’ moment during my first Christmas without Kyle’s father too.”

  Melissa gave Kyle’s hand a squeeze as she began to tell her story. She wanted him to know she would do justice to the love they both felt for his father. “It was over a pineapple casserole of all things.” Kyle gave a smile to show he knew where this story was going.

  Melissa saw the smile and knew it was okay with Kyle if she continued. “It was a dish Edward’s mother had made every year. He incorporated it into our traditions as well, early in our life together.” Melissa looked at the table the way Mr. Clarke had when he spoke of not knowing the addresses for the Christmas cards he filled out. “The problem was, he never told me how to make it. He never showed me a recipe card that could tell me how to make it either.”

  Melissa shook her head at the futility of her former self. “I’m a pretty decent cook myself.” Melissa nodded at Greta. “I may not be on the same level as a ‘Greta Wilson’, but I can hold my own.” The table laughed at Melissa’s deferential joke. “I thought I could figure out what had gone into the casserole based on my memory of what it tasted like.”

  Another headshake from Melissa as she recalled how wrong she had been. “I must have baked that casserole ten different ways, but I couldn’t get it to come out right. It just didn’t taste anything like what Edward made.”

  The room hung on Melissa’s words. She captivated the table with her Christmas story the same way Mr. Clarke captivated them with his. “And, as I’m sitting there, crying into my tenth dish of wasted pineapple, bread crumbs, and sugar, I’m struck by a powerful, and intensely beautiful idea. An idea that can’t be described as anything other than A Christmas Miracle.” Melissa surveyed her audience. She needed them to see what happened to her in her kitchen that first Christmas without her husband as a miracle.

  “He was there!” The same tear which welled in Mr. Clarke’s eyes a few moments ago, now found its way into one of Melissa’s. “My Edward was there! In the wasted pineapple casserole. He was there with me because I tried so hard to make it the way he always had. He was there because I tried so hard to honor his memory.” Melissa cleared the tear from her eye and recomposed herself.

  The room lapsed into respectful silence. After a few moments of quiet, Kyle raised his glass of gingerbread eggnog. “That was beautiful, mama. Thank you.”

  Another protracted series of glass clanking followed. Greta knew, as she sat in the afterglow of Melissa and Mr. Clarke’s stories, the Christmas Spirit in the Wilson Family home had never been greater. Scott would have been so happy.

  It may have been their first Christmas without him, but Greta thought he had shown up anyway. He had shown up in the way Melissa described for her Edward. He was in all the things Greta had done that were inspired by him. As Greta witnessed the outpouring of friendship around her dining room table, she saw Aubrey beamed with happiness. That had been the thing Scott would have wanted most—to make sure his daughter would be okay now that he wouldn’t be around to help Greta guide her. Judging by the looks on Aubrey and Kyle’s faces, and by the way they naturally fit together, the biggest part of her plan to celebrate Scott seemed to be on the right path. Only time would tell if The Magic of Christmas would deliver on that as well.

  *

  Aubrey and Kyle stood by themselves on her front porch. In the driveway, Kyle’s pickup truck idled with the lights on. In the glow from the spotlights on the side of the garage, the outlines of Melissa and Mr. Clarke were barely visible in the darkened cab. Kyle wore all his cold winter gear, while Aubrey shivered in her sweater. They were telling each other goodbye for the night.

  Aubrey was the first to venture into the silence. “Thank you for coming, and for bringing your mom and Mr. Clarke.”

  Kyle dismissed the idea there was any effort required in coming to dinner by waving his hand in the air in front of him. Aubrey thought he looked a lot like Mr. Clarke when he did this. “Thank you for having us,” he said politely.

  “I know it meant a lot to my mom.” Aubrey continued.

  “I’m pretty sure it meant a lot to my mama too.” Kyle thought about it for a moment. “She hasn’t talked about my dad like that in years. Which means, tonight meant a lot to me too, Aubrey.” He wanted to add that all of the good things happening to him this Christmas were related to the sudden reappearance of her in his life. He didn’t risk it because he was afraid it was too soon after her breakup with Walter to say something like that to her. They had time.

  Aubrey tried to shake the cold off with an extra big shiver. She wasn’t done talking with Kyle, but the cold was making it tough. She reprimanded herself for not grabbing her coat on the way out the door. “So, what are we doing tomorrow?” Aubrey asked, flirtatiously.

  Kyle smiled like he just found out he won the lottery. “Miss Aubrey Wilson, are you asking me out on another date.”

  “Well, it started to feel like I had to ask yo
u since it didn’t seem you were going to get around to asking me.” Aubrey taunted.

  “I was getting there,” Kyle protested. From the driveway, Melissa honked the horn on Kyle’s truck. Kyle turned toward the truck and gave it a friendly wave as if to say he would be there in a minute. “She’s going to wear me out, when I get back to the truck, for letting you stand in the cold without offering you my coat.” Kyle hit himself in the head as he started to take off his coat. “Do you want my coat by the way? I have another one in the truck.”

  Aubrey stopped him from taking his coat off. “I’m fine, as soon as you leave, I’ll go warm up by the fire. But, don’t think your mom’s honking of the horn has gotten you out of making Christmas Eve plans with me tomorrow.”

  Kyle considered this. What could they do tomorrow to keep this sleigh ride going? Suddenly, he knew. “I hear there’s going to be an outdoor showing of A Christmas Carol tomorrow evening at Old Man Peterson’s Christmas Tree farm.”

  Aubrey nodded her head in acceptance of Kyle’s suggestion. “That sounds like a great plan for tomorrow evening, but what’s a girl to do all day while she waits for the evening to get here?”

  Kyle didn’t want to disappoint, but he also didn’t know if she would be interested in what he had planned for the morning. “I’ve got a little Christmas job I have to do tomorrow morning. May not be much fun. I’d understand if you wanted to skip it.”

  “That’s sounds great, actually.” Aubrey said.

  “It does?” Kyle guessed she was talking about skipping the Christmas job. He didn’t see how it was great if they couldn’t be together.

  “Yeah, because I seem to remember you hired me this afternoon. I have to start learning the ropes sometimes. Tomorrow morning works for me.” Aubrey had him with that one. He had hired her, there was no way he could get out of it.

  Kyle laughed. She always tricked him with her way of twisting what he was saying into a meaning different than the one most people would assume. “I did do that, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did.” Aubrey waited for him to reach the inevitable conclusion of anointing her his apprentice.

  “Man, what was I thinking?” Melissa bailed him out by honking the horn on his truck again. Kyle took his mother’s hint this time. He started backing off the porch toward the driveway.

  “So, what time are you picking me up?” Aubrey asked.

  “I’ll be here at nine.” Even though he was walking in reverse, he had now reached his truck. He set his hand on the door latch but didn’t quite move to open it yet. He was enjoying these moments with Aubrey so much he didn’t want them to end.

  Aubrey had to clarify the time of arrival based on Kyle’s performance from that morning. “Is that nine, nine? Or, like, eight-fifteen, nine? I don’t want you earning another free breakfast from my mom by showing up two hours early again.”

  Kyle laughed for the hundredth time since he picked Aubrey up at the airport. “I’ll be here at nine, nine.”

  “Good night, Kyle Morgan. I’ll see you at nine-nine then.”

  “Good night, Aubrey Wilson.” Kyle waited for her to reenter his house. He stood there a few moments more staring at the space where she had been on the porch. So many, of these moments piled up that his mama honked the horn a third time.

  Kyle broke into a delicious grin, “I’m coming. I’m coming,” he said to the occupants of his truck as he opened the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sun shone through Aubrey’s window and woke her up long before her alarm was set to begin ringing. She unset it and put her feet into the slippers that waited for her. She threw on the robe she had draped over the chair the evening before and made her way to the dresser where the Countdown to Christmas Calendar awaited. She fiddled with the presents under the tree until they informed anyone who might be looking there were ‘01 more ‘days til Christmas’.

  After her shower, she took her time reviewing her clothing options for her big date with Kyle. By some accident of luck, she packed the only sweater she owned that passed as an appropriate apparel option on Christmas Eve. Her subconscious must have packed it for her, because she didn’t remember throwing it into her suitcase. It was warm, fuzzy, cute, and almost a perfect shade of mistletoe green. She laughed right along with her subconscious for playing such a good joke on her better judgment. Whatever the reason the sweater made the trip with her, she was glad to have it today. No matter how many years she had spent trying to prove otherwise, Aubrey couldn’t deny her true love of Christmas. She completed the sweater with a pair of jeans and was ready to go.

  Aubrey arrived in the kitchen as her mom placed a piping hot stack of pancakes beside a bowl of melon cocktail. “Good morning, mom.”

  “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

  “Wonderful. You?” Aubrey sat down at the table as her mom returned to the stove to make a few pancakes for herself.

  “No complaints here.” Greta replied.

  Aubrey cut into her stack with a fork. “How do you do this, mom?”

  Greta flipped one of the pancakes in her skillet. It had been so long since she thought of making food for others as a chore, she didn’t know what her daughter meant. “Do what, sweetie?”

  “Have breakfast waiting on me the second I arrive in the kitchen.” Aubrey took another bite, then washed it down with the orange juice which rested beside her plate.

  “Years of practice, I guess.” A more sincere answer occurred to Greta. “Also, I wasn’t lying about what I said yesterday. It makes me happy to feed my family. I don’t know why. I guess you all should consider yourself lucky.” Greta had nothing else to add. To her, it seemed complete.

  “Don’t worry,” Aubrey said, “I do consider myself lucky.” Aubrey took a break from the pancakes and started in on the melon cocktail.

  Greta turned her stove off and transferred the three remaining pancakes she made for herself from the skillet to a plate. She set the skillet down on a cool burner and took her plate to the table to eat with Aubrey. Greta hated to pry, but she also wanted to get a handle on where things stood between her daughter and Kyle. She risked a small observation to see where that led. “Seems like you and Kyle have been hitting it off since you came back.”

  Aubrey looked at her mom. She remembered what Kyle said about the ‘mamas’ and their scheming. Were his suspicions accurate? Aubrey answered with a partial deflection. “We have been. He’s an amazing guy, there’s no question about it.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it, Aubrey. I was pointing out what I’ve been seeing with my own two eyes, that’s all.” Greta worried about pressing too hard. She didn’t want to drive Aubrey and Kyle apart after she put so much effort into getting them back together.

  “Oh, I know that, mom.” Aubrey set her fork in the empty bowl of melon cocktail. “Let me ask you something else?”

  “What is it, dear?”

  “We didn’t get much time to talk about me quitting my job and breaking off my engagement yesterday, and there’s something I want to know.” Aubrey paused. If her mom had anything to add on either of those subjects naturally, Aubrey didn’t want to cut her off before she started. A listening technique she learned straight from her father.

  “Are you worried, dear? You can always stay here, you know that, right?” Greta reminded Aubrey.

  “Surprisingly I’m not worried at all about losing my job. I’ve lived like a Spartan the last five years. I’ve saved so much money I could afford to spend an entire year looking for a new job if I had to. I know quitting my job was the right thing to do.” Aubrey took her dirty plates to the sink. She rinsed them off and began putting them in the dishwasher so she wouldn’t be facing her mom when she asked this next question. “What I really want your opinion on is breaking off the engagement with Walter.” Aubrey turned around, right into the outstretched arms of her mother.

  Greta wrapped Aubrey in a protective mother-bear hug. “Oh Aubrey, he was sooooo wrong for you. I’m ashamed to admit
it, but your father and I prayed for years you would see the light before you made the mistake of marrying that horribly selfish man.” When Aubrey started to cry a little, Greta wondered if she had taken that subject too far. “I’m sorry, Aubrey. Did I say too much? Maybe, he wasn’t as bad as I thought.” Greta walked her assessment of Walter back in case Aubrey still cared for him or envisioned a reconciliation. She had to remember to be more diplomatic just in case.

  Aubrey shook her head. She wiped away the tears in her eyes. “No, mom, not at all. What you said to begin with was right. He was a horribly selfish man. I would have been miserable if we had gotten married. I’m crying because I’m so happy you agreed.”

  Greta looked at her daughter. “Consider it settled then. Know you did the right thing. That man wasn’t right for you.” So much for diplomacy. “Now, quit doing the dishes and finish getting ready for your date with Kyle.”

  Aubrey gave her mom another hug. “Thank you so much, mom.”

  “What are you thanking me for now?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe just for making this first Christmas without dad as special as it could be.” Aubrey gave her mom one last hug and then walked off toward the living room so she could put on her winter gear in preparation for Kyle’s arrival.

  *

  Aubrey sat on the porch. Once again, she wore borrowed pieces of clothing from her mom’s closet because she hadn’t packed enough for the extreme cold and snowy conditions which had afflicted her hometown since her arrival. She wore them as well as could be expected since they weren’t her style.

  Aubrey perched on one of those old-fashioned rocking chairs with no cushions that gets uncomfortable within five minutes of sitting down. She saw Kyle’s truck as it headed into her driveway. A stolen glance at the watch on her arm told her it was 8:59. Kyle was, as she expected, right on time.

  Aubrey stood up and dashed out to meet him. She hadn’t dashed into a driveway to meet someone like this since the first few grades of high school. The uptick in her exuberance following her return to Timberville was undeniable to anyone who witnessed it. As she crossed the fifty feet of driveway to where Kyle parked, Aubrey thought of what she might do with her wide-open future. Was it possible Kyle could be part of it? Maybe? But there was some unfinished business that would have to be cleared up first. She made a firm commitment to herself to make sure that business was resolved before she gave in to any of these new feelings.