by Cheree Alsop
In realizing that, he also realized how rare it was for them to invite a stranger on their trip. Eric had obviously been with Clara a long time; the kids joked with him and the adults conversed with familiarity. But Chase was a stranger, a stranger who, through some strange twist of fate, had been put in a place to help their loved ones. But a stranger, still. He stood on the outside and watched them joke and laugh, teasing with familiarity and good-natured sarcasm. There were scuffs, like in any family, but they got over them quickly and didn’t hold a grudge.
Chase felt torn. Half of his thoughts screamed for him to turn his back and run, to leave it all behind and never look back. The other half, though, clutched desperately to the shred of hope that he could possibly be included and could perhaps share the tiniest moment of time with this family. It begged for him not to ruin it.
But he slowed, reminding himself that he didn’t belong. He was just a stranger whose trouble had tangled up an amazing young woman, her younger brother, and their loving family. This happiness wasn’t for him. He didn’t deserve it.
He let the others get ahead as his crutches crunched in the snow. He wondered if he should leave while they were distracted. He had almost decided to go when Clara looked back at him and smiled. In the fading light of the winter evening, Chase saw the little girl in the picture who was on top of the world. And he realized at that moment that he would give anything just to share a bit of her world.
***
The line of cars back to the city was filled with the happy, exhausted, and partially frozen family. Daniel had traded Chase places, though he protested that getting up into the truck didn’t hurt that much. He now rode with Martin in Mrs. Clark’s black Neon, which had to be towed from the snow by the tractor. Chase suspected by Martin and Daniel’s enthusiasm at the towing that they’d gotten the car stuck on purpose.
Eric, Clara, and Daniel followed behind with the Christmas tree tied securely in the back of the truck. It looked suspiciously identical to the first tree that had been rejected. Mr. and Mrs. Clark, Matty, and Grandma and Grandpa Clark rode in Mr. Clark’s older SUV, and Samuel and Ilene brought up the rear in their car.
Martin, thrilled and a little nervous at being the leader, drove cautiously 3 miles per hour under the speed limit to make sure everyone kept up. Once, the truck behind them honked and Chase looked back to see Daniel waving for them to go faster. Martin merely grinned and continued on at his same determined speed.
“So what do you do?” Chase asked him curiously.
“Do?” Martin replied with a sideways glance, careful not to take his attention off the road.
“Yeah, like hobbies,” Chase pressed. “What do you do with your free time when you’re not slaying all evil-doers online?”
Martin smiled at the comment, then grew thoughtful. “Well, my friends and I play our guitars sometimes.”
“Really? What kind of guitar do you have?” He sensed the sixteen-year-old’s enthusiasm for the topic.
“An Ibanez, a red one,” Martin replied. “Only, I’m saving my money for this awesome black Schecter at the music store.”
Chase nodded with a smile. “There’s nothing like playing the guitar. My favorite was a PRS I-“
“Wait a minute!” Martin cut him off, taking his foot off the gas at the same time. He realized he’d done it when Daniel leaned over and honked the horn of Eric’s truck again. “You have a PRS?” he asked, speeding up.
“Had,” Chase corrected. He gave a sigh that wasn’t feigned. “My dad gave it away when I was about your age, told me I was wasting my time.”
Martin was mortified. “Your dad gave it away?” At Chase’s nod, he opened his mouth and then closed it again, searching for words. Finally, he settled with, “Man, that must have sucked.”
“Hard core,” Chase replied; the memory brought back the fist-to-the-gut feeling he’d had when he realized the guitar was gone. His music had been his escape, the one thing that truly belonged to him. He shook his head to clear the empty feeling. “So, maybe we could play sometime. It’s been a while, but I think I could pick it back up.”
“Awesome!” Martin’s enthusiasm returned. “There’s a Jackson in the garage. Daniel gave up playing when. . . .” He fell silent.
Chase watched him shake his head to chase away memories. “That must have been hard on both of you.”
Martin nodded. Chase was about to change the painful topic when Martin continued, “Ryan was a good friend and it was hard to lose him, but that wasn’t the hardest part.” He glanced at Chase, wondering if he should continue. Chase waited quietly for him to decide.
After a few moments, Martin took a deep breath. “The hardest part was losing my brother when we lost Ryan.” His brow furrowed and voice grew softer. “Daniel was like a zombie for months. Mom and Dad couldn’t get him to go to school, hang out with his friends, or even leave the house. He practically never left his bedroom. It was like something snapped in him when he watched Ryan die, like not being able to do anything about it made him so angry at everything he didn’t know how to control it.”
“What made him start coming out again?”
Martin shook his head. “I don’t know. He just came to eat in the dining room with us once, and then the next night, and the next. He didn’t say much, but it was like he needed to remember that we existed.” He gave a small smile and ran a hand through his wavy, light-brown hair. “Then he asked me to play video games one night. We stayed up the whole night playing. Mom didn’t even care.” He looked at Chase. “I think she was just relieved to see Daniel coming back to himself.
“He’d missed so much school that they had to hold him back, which worked out because then he was in my grade. After a while, he started hanging out with my friends Jerry and Rod.” Martin frowned slightly. “He’s not back to his old self. He’s kind-of like a different person than before it all happened. He has strange views about death and what happens when you die, but he stopped telling me about them when he could tell I just didn’t understand. But I tried, you know?”
Chase nodded. “You’re a good brother,” he said with sincerity.
Martin sighed as he pulled into the parking lot of a small family diner. “I just wish I could help him get back all the way, like he was before. I want him to be able to forget what happened to Ryan.” He turned off the car and met Chase’s gaze; his expression was anxious. “Do you think that’s selfish?”
Chase shook his head. “Not at all. You want your brother to not feel the pain he’s holding inside.”
The teenager nodded. “I wish I could take it from him and carry it myself if it would help him.”
Chase didn’t know how to reply. He wondered how someone so young could be so mature. He gave Martin a reassuring smile. “You’re helping him in ways you can’t even imagine just by caring so much. You’re a good brother and a good friend. I wish everyone who’s been through what Daniel has had someone like you to keep their head above water.”
Martin smiled, relief showing in his clear blue eyes. Someone tapped on his window and he jumped, then laughed. Mrs. Clark motioned for them to go inside the diner, rubbing her arms to demonstrate how cold it was outside. Martin nodded, gave her a thumb’s up, and took his key out of the ignition.
Chase moved to open the door when Martin turned back to him. “You know what, Chase? I like having you here. You feel like one of the family. A brother or cousin or something that’s been gone a long time.” He opened the door and stepped out.
It was a minute before Chase could follow.
Chapter 5
To remedy their still-thawing state from choosing a Christmas tree, Mr. Clark ordered a round of hot chocolate instead of ice cream and they made themselves comfortable in a booth with a table pulled over as an extension. Grandpa Clark pointed out that the tree they had chosen was very similar to the other thousand trees they had rejected, and Martin jumped in to defend his choice.
They all laughed at his detailed description of the tr
ee’s perfect number of branches, pine needles, and even the right amount of tree sap to give it that woodsy smell but not overpowering enough to disturb Bailey; Grandpa wondered if they should have gotten a smellier tree for just that reason.
Chase sipped his hot chocolate and listened to them argue good-naturedly about whether pine sap was good for the dog’s fur. Mom felt Bailey was shinier after adventures under the tree, while Clara pointed out that it was hard to tell with his hair half-scrubbed off. Chase sat back and let the conversation roll over him. The cocoa felt warm in his stomach and he found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open.
His head dropped and he jerked it back up only to find Clara smiling at him from across the table. “Tired?” she asked with a grin.
“A little,” he admitted. Truth be told, he felt exhausted; crutching around in the snow after a mild concussion resulting from the worst beating of his life left him with little reserves to draw from.
He saw a hint of concern in Clara’s eyes and she studied him closer. “I think Chase needs to get some sleep, and I’ve got some things to do at home,” she said to the others.
“I can drop you guys off with the tree,” Eric offered. “I promised my mom I’d be home for dinner tonight anyway. Her sister’s in town and they need me to watch the kids.”
“Aw, you guys aren’t going to the theater with us?” Mrs. Clark asked, clearly disappointed.
Clara patted her mom’s shoulder. “I think I’ll survive if I miss another Santa Claus movie. We’ll probably rent it next Christmas anyway. Besides,” she indicated Chase who was valiantly draining his hot chocolate in an effort to wake up. “Don’t you think Chase could use some more sleep, and without Daniel and Martin keeping him up?”
“Hey!” the brothers protested.
Mrs. Clark looked closer at Chase who felt embarrassed at the sudden scrutiny. She nodded. “You do need your sleep, dear. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes and look like you’re going to drop any second.” Nurse Clark took over and she gave orders to her daughter. “Make sure he goes straight to bed and if he has trouble sleeping again, make him some warm milk.”
Mr. Clark nodded to Chase. “She knows what she’s talking about. She’s in charge of the whole ICU at the hospital.” There was a note of pride in his voice at his wife’s accomplishment.
The others said goodbye and promised to head home right after the movie. Grandpa and Grandma Clark both reminded Chase to get some more sleep. Samuel shook Chase’s hand while Ilene gave her sister a farewell hug. They promised to come over the next day for ice skating. Mrs. Clark gave Chase a hug and everyone called farewells until they were out the door.
“Boy, if this is what it’s like when you’re going to see them again in a few hours, I can’t imagine what kind of farewell you get when you’re gone for more than a day!” Chase said when the door closed behind them.
“They have a parade and everything,” Clara replied, laughing. “My family believes that the more heartfelt the goodbye, the sooner you’ll be back.”
Eric opened the door for Clara and helped her up, then shut the door behind Chase after he levered himself onto the seat. Eric tossed the crutches in the back with the tree, then climbed in on the driver’s side. The truck engine rumbled to life and he backed out slowly. After a minute of comfortable silence, he flipped on the radio and switched it to one of the numerous Christmas stations.
“I’m in a Christmas mood after looking for trees in the snow. It makes me want to see the lights or something. What do you think?” Eric asked them.
Chase felt Clara glance at him as he stared out the window pretending he hadn’t heard. “Um, I think we’ll pass this time. I really do have some things to do at home,” Clara said.
“Okay,” Eric replied without offense. “It would probably mean a lot to my mom if I get home on time anyway. Maybe next trip, huh Chase?”
“Yeah, next time,” Chase said, trying to sound positive.
Eric turned up the Christmas music and began to sing surprisingly well to a rendition of The Little Drummer Boy.
***
Chase and Clara waved to Eric as he pulled out of the driveway. The tree, wrestled into the house by Eric without the need of help from Chase or Clara, sat in its stand with bare branches to await the boxes of ornaments Mrs. Clark had eagerly set out.
When Eric’s truck was out of sight, Clara turned to Chase. “So, tell me how anyone could truly not like Christmas.”
Chase felt his stomach tightened but forced himself not to react. “You really want to know?” he asked as casually as he could.
Something in his tone caught Clara’s attention. She grew sober when she realized by his expression that it was something he normally didn’t tell anyone. She hesitated, then nodded. “I really want to know.”
Chase crutched over to one of the chairs by the big living room window. The curtain was open to reveal big snowflakes starting to drift down from the cloud covered night sky. He leaned back in the chair and rested the foot of his injured leg on the window sill. Clara took the seat across from him, her eyes on his face.
Chase rubbed the bandages on his forehead, trying to think of where to start and how much to tell her. He stared out the window, his eyes on the warm glow of lamplight that made dark shadows of the flakes. He took a steeling breath. “I was ten when it happened. Father and I were at home putting the final presents we’d wrapped under the tree when the phone rang.”
Chase kept his gaze outside, his face carefully expressionless. “He answered it with a smile on his face, but in less than two seconds, I remember the smile vanishing, replaced be a haunted look that never went away.”
His swallowed, his blue eyes deep and sad. Clara saw the ten year old boy in his face and heard the pain in his voice despite his efforts to hide it, “When he hung up the phone, he simply stared at the wall. He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t ask. After seconds that felt like hours, he grabbed his keys and left out the front door. I had to run after him to keep from being left behind.”
His jaw tightened. “He drove us to the hospital. I remember ambulance lights cutting through the falling snow and thinking how out of place they seemed on Christmas Eve. Father walked past everything and through the emergency room doors as if the rest was invisible. He told the nurse, an older woman at the counter, his name, and I remember seeing her eyes widen. She had beautiful, bright blue eyes.” He glanced at Clara, forcing a smile to his face. “It’s funny how details like that can be so clear, even after thirteen years.”
She nodded with her eyes on his and he forced himself to continue. “She led us through some big double doors and down a long hallway. She didn’t say a word. She took us to a young doctor in blue scrubs and told him something I couldn’t hear, then she left as if she was eager to get away from something so depressing on Christmas Eve.”
He took a deep breath, then leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, his hair falling between his fingers to hide his eyes. He could see it all again and could hear the doctor’s distant voice. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brockson, but we couldn’t save them.”
Dad fumbled his words, the only time Chase ever remembered hearing him fumble over anything. “But, but they said to come quickly, th-that there might be a chance. I don’t understand. . . .”
The doctor nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s nothing else we can do. If they had gotten here earlier. . .” His voice trailed away.
Dad walked in a circle in the hallway shaking his head. His hands shook and he clasped them tightly behind his back. He stopped by the doctor again looking as though it took all of his strength to do so. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
The doctor rubbed his buzzed hair. “The details are still a bit sketchy until the police report comes in, but accounts say that a drunk driver hit them and their car spun off a bridge into a canal, landing upside down. With the water rushing past, they couldn’t get the doors open. The canal was deep from the falling snow we’ve
had for the past few days, and water filled up the car.” He lowered his eyes to the blue speckled tile floor. “I’m sorry to say that they all drowned before the medics arrived.”
Dad shook his head again, his eyes wide and jaw clenched. “Was there no one who tried to help?” he forced out.
The doctor nodded. “People jumped in, but the current was too strong. I’m sorry, Mr. Brockson.” He set a hand on Dad’s shoulder, but Dad shrugged it off and turned away. He stared into space looking as if he’d suddenly aged thirty years.
When the doctor spoke again, he really did sound sorry. “I need someone to give a positive I.D. on the bodies.”
Dad looked back at the man with true hatred on his face. He didn’t speak and the doctor didn’t press him. Then his eyes fell on Chase. “Go with the doctor, son.”
Chase shook his head like he had on that day. “Go, Father said again. I had no choice. There was no one else.”
“They wouldn’t make a child do that!” Clara said in horror.
Chase’s eyebrows drew together. “There was no one else, and the doctor was tired and ready to be done with his day so he could join his family for Christmas Eve. I followed him through the door. The first thing I remember was that it smelled like rain in that room, you know the smell that fills the air before a big rainstorm?”
He closed his eyes. “Then I saw them. Mom, my older brother Jason, my younger brother and sister Andrew and Elizabeth, and baby Sara.” A tear escaped from his closed eyes and traced its way slowly down his cheek. “I wanted to go to them so badly, to hug them and ask them to come home. I kept believing that they would wake up and everything would go back to normal.”
He took a shaking breath, “But I couldn’t go to them. I felt like my feet were stuck to the floor. And it was because I knew they weren’t there anymore. I could feel it somehow, like an absence where their souls should have been. The doctor asked me if it was them, and I nodded and just left the room. There wasn’t anything else to say.”