The Forever Christmas Tree

by Sandra Hill

  Raul was talking then about holiday traditions in Spain, and Claudette described festivities in the Big Easy, many of them involving one-hundred-proof bourbon. The guys were now discussing among themselves a bar they’d heard about that featured a local drink called an OBX Bomb, “guaranteed to blow your head off.” Diane had stopped to talk to Monique who stood in front of her boutique. All this was between carols and bell ringing as they walked.

  Wendy tuned out their conversations and scanned the area. She assumed that Ethan and his grandmother were here, along with Cassie, but she couldn’t see them through the crowd. She hadn’t heard from Ethan today, but then she hadn’t expected to. When he’d brought her home before dawn this morning, Wendy told him that she had a gift she wanted to give to Cassie. It was just a pretty blue sweater sprinkled with silver snowflakes that she’d seen in a store on the square, nothing expensive. He’d promised to bring Cassie to the open house tomorrow.

  That was the only promise mentioned between them.

  After they got home about nine, the seniors agreed to open the gifts from Wendy and her friends. They didn’t want to do the mutual exchange among themselves since Gloria was asleep already. She could open the gifts from them in the morning.

  Elmer was pleased with three red, white, and blue dog leashes, a new copper-coated pan, a pair of spiffy purple suspenders, a Navy SEALs sweatshirt, and a book titled How to Cook Bear (And Other Wild Game).

  Raul loved The History of Spanish Music, a set of taps that could be applied to any size shoe, an external flash drive for his laptop on which he was writing a book, a Navy SEALs sweatshirt, and a framed print of the saying, “Dance Is the Hidden Language of the Soul.”

  Claudette was surprised and gracious in accepting her gifts. Did she think they would leave her out just because she was so quiet? She got a pretty amber pendant on a silver chain, a book of piano music featuring Louisiana jazz favorites, Jessica McClintock perfume, a colorful silk scarf, and a U.S. Navy WEALS sweatshirt.

  Harry had been harder to buy for, but he laughed at a Donald Trump The Art of the Deal book and got misty-eyed over a picture in a silver frame of himself with his late wife, Julia, on a cruise ship, the year before she’d died. Harry also got a box of cigars, his guilty pleasure, a newly invented kind of cane that helped a wheelchair-bound person transfer to bed or a chair, and a Navy SEALs sweatshirt.

  Wendy hoped that Aunt Mildred would understand the significance of the red coat she unwrapped. She was like a mother to her, and Wendy hadn’t told her that enough over the years, nor shown her with her continuing absence. Her aunt gasped, then hugged Wendy tightly. Her other gifts were a set of Victoria’s Secret hand creams, a pretty nightgown (not sexy sheer, but not grandmotherly either), a flamboyant Samba dress, and a U.S. Navy WEALS sweatshirt.

  It was ten thirty by then and time to get dressed for church. By mutual agreement, Wendy and her friends wore dress blues for Midnight Mass at Our Lady by the Sea. It seemed appropriate as a sign of respect. Aunt Mildred, Raul, and Claudette went with them.

  When they got to the church, an usher showed them to a pew near the front. The church soon became standing room only. Non-Catholics attended this service, in an ecumenical fashion, and just as many Catholics went to the St. Andrew’s service on Christmas Day. The bell choirs and the choral groups were as much of an attraction as the rituals themselves.

  JAM left their pew and went up onto the altar and then into the sacristy. Wendy exchanged questioning glances with the others. She’d known that he was asked to do some kind of deacon duties, but she wasn’t sure what they would be.

  Soon the church bells rang and Father Brad, in his white vestments bordered with bands of gold to mark the sacred holiday, led a procession down the center aisle of the church. He was followed by a half-dozen acolytes, boys and girls both, with JAM bringing up the rear with a plain white robe over his uniform, tied with a ropelike belt. The choir sang “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” until the group walked up the steps to sit on the altar.

  JAM stepped forward then, stood before the microphone, and into the silence said, “This is the day the Lord has made.” He smiled then, stretched out his arms, and added, “Let us rejoice.” He said it in such a way that it sounded like he was inviting everyone to feast.

  At midnight, an altar boy and an altar girl carried a statue of Baby Jesus and placed him in the manger of the Nativity scene at the foot of the altar. They did it with such solemnity that everyone smiled.

  The bell choir, accompanied by the singers, put on a spectacular performance. It was truly inspirational.

  At the end of the Mass, Father Brad said in a jubilant voice, “May the peace of the Lord be with you now, and always.”

  The congregation replied, “And also with you!”

  And, of course, there were more bells ringing.

  There was a sense of peace as they left the church, more so than usual, it seemed. Like often happened when they were in uniform, Wendy and her friends were stopped repeatedly by people saying, “Thank you for your service.” Which was also nice.

  Aunt Mildred, Claudette, and Raul drove home, but the rest of them walked. Several inches of snow had fallen, and it was pleasant to breathe in the crisp air of the silent night.

  K-4 took her hand and said, “Thank you for having us here, Wendy. It really was what I needed . . . a peaceful place to rejuvenate.”

  He was referring to how depressed they’d been after Flash’s funeral.

  “Just what I was thinking. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Diane took her other hand.

  Walking behind them, JAM added, “Sort of a cleansing of the soul before we head back into the mire,” and Geek laughed.

  “I don’t know how cleansed I am, but I might have found a new home. Do you suppose I could move in with your aunt Mildred for a while if I decide to go with the treasure-hunting venture?”

  “Why not?” Wendy replied, although Geek was probably kidding. “The more the merrier.”

  Which turned out to be more accurate than Wendy had meant. When they got back to the house, they saw several suitcases sitting in the entryway. Aunt Mildred was in the kitchen serving spiked ginger chai tea to the usual gang along with two new additions. Twin octogenarians, Mike and Ike Dorset, who had “escaped” from an assisted-living facility, which they referred to as “the nursing home from hell.”

  Oh, Lord!

  Their thick white hair and trim bodies prompted Aunt Mildred to whisper to Wendy, “They look just like Bill Clinton, don’t they?”

  “More like Phil Donahue,” Claudette interjected.

  Both women were clearly interested.

  Oh, Lord!

  “We got tired of being treated like children at Sunset Shores,” Mike explained. “I mean, what grown man does coloring books?”

  The only way they could tell the twins apart was Mike wore a red plaid shirt, and Ike wore a green plaid shirt. Both tucked into nicely pressed khakis.

  “I like coloring books. Adult coloring books,” Elmer joked.

  Ike ignored Elmer’s jest and said, “We want to dance.”

  Raul’s eyes lit up at that remark.

  “I do a mean Watusi,” Ike added. “And Mike isn’t too bad at the Monster Mash.”

  Oh, Lord!

  “The ratio of women to men is about ten to one at Sunset Shores,” Mike continued, as he sipped at his tea. “I got more marriage proposals than Elizabeth Taylor, bless her heart.”

  “She’s dead now,” Ike pointed out.

  “Isn’t everyone we know?” Mike countered. Then he sighed. “I still get a hard-on when I picture Liz in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.”

  Oh, Lord!

  “Hah! You haven’t had a hard-on since Nixon was president,” Ike said.

  JAM and Geek and K-4 and Diane were enjoying this conversation immensely, while Raul and Elmer and Harry were probably wondering where they would fit into the scheme of things if these two moved in.

  Aunt Mildred cast a worried look
of inquiry to Wendy.

  Wendy just shrugged and said, “Merry Christmas!”

  Chapter 20

  And then the terrible trouble began . . .

  Ethan saw Wendy enter the church for Midnight Mass in full military gear. Yeah, he’d known Wendy was in WEALS and that she did all kinds of warrior girl crap, which he didn’t want to think about, but actually seeing her in uniform was a reality check he hadn’t expected. He was shocked.

  Any secret hope he might have been harboring was dashed as he saw her and her military friends walk proudly down the aisle to their seats. Especially when he noticed the many stripes and medals on the lot of them, including Wendy. Those kinds of things didn’t come from sitting in an office on a military base. These were active-duty soldiers. Deadly soldiers.

  The only thing that would have been more of a “Come to Jesus” moment for Ethan would be to see Wendy carrying a weapon, or worse yet, aiming it at some crazed terrorist. He could picture it now, though.

  Wendy kills people for a living. Yeah, bad people, and, yeah, someone has to do it. But she actually pulls a trigger and shoots human beings, when required.

  And she puts herself in harm’s way. Deliberately.

  Wendy was one of those nutcase Navy SEAL types you see on TV, faces blackened, wearing camouflage, running in a low crouch with weapons ready as they rescued embassy kidnapees in some Middle Eastern place with a name like KissAssAstan or Nigerian girls being held by Boko-Loco-Fucking-Haram. Wendy was not the same girl she’d been twelve years ago. Not even close. How could he not have seen that? He’d deluded himself into thinking she was the same Wendy, only twelve years older.

  A Christmas tree farmer and Lady Rambo?

  Yeah, right.

  Ethan wasn’t Catholic, but he often attended various events at Our Lady by the Sea. Tonight, he’d sought a little peace after a chaotic day with Cassie. Once she was in bed, asleep, exhausted after being on her feet way too long, he’d slipped out. His grandmother had been asleep, as well.

  Even though he’d expected Wendy, who’d been raised Catholic—he wasn’t sure if she still was—to be at Midnight Mass, he’d had no intention of approaching her tonight. Now, he definitely would not.

  Time for Ethan to get on with the rest of his life. Without Wendy. She had her life, he had his.

  He slipped out of church and went home.

  The next morning, Cassie was up soon after dawn, waking Ethan and her nana to come open the many presents Santa had left under the tree. If she still believed in the jolly old fellow, this would probably be the last year that she did. So, Ethan and his grandmother put up with the “charade.”

  Cassie was one of those wonderful children who oohed and aahed over every gift, even the most mundane, like days-of-the-week underpants or a set of Sharpie pens. By ten o’clock, following a breakfast of French toast with maple syrup and sausages and orange juice, she had already set up her new iPad Mini, and was in the process of making a bead bracelet. But it became obvious that her flushed face was due to more than excitement. She had a low-grade fever and she could barely walk for the pain in her hip.

  He and Nana soon had Cassie tucked into her new mermaid Snuggie blanket on the sofa, watching a Charlie Brown Christmas special on the television. They’d dosed her with over-the-counter pain pills and muscle relaxers.

  “Do you think we should call the doctor?” his grandmother asked.

  He shook his head. “Not yet. I think her overexertions of the past week have caught up with her.”

  “I agree.”

  “Cassie and I won’t be attending church at St. Andrew’s with you this morning,” he told his grandmother.

  “Cassie is going to be devastated not to play in the children’s bell choir performance.”

  “I think she feels wonky enough to know she’s not up to it.”

  “Too bad, after all those practices.”

  He shrugged. It wasn’t the first time they’d had to cancel plans because of Cassie’s condition. “And that open house afterward at the Pattersons’ is out of the question, too. You go and give our regrets. I’ll stay with her, and if she gets any worse, I’ll contact that new doctor.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go? I could come back after church and stay with Cassie?”

  “No. It’s better this way.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for more.

  He declined to explain himself.

  A short time later, his grandmother came up to him where he was sitting beside the fire, reading the latest edition of The Bell, a cup of coffee on the side table beside him, Cassie fast asleep on the couch. She was wearing the new blue coat he’d bought for her.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, and she did. Her long salt-and-pepper hair was pulled off her face with a headband, hanging loose, showing off her mostly unlined skin, making her look way younger than her seventy-two years. The blue of her eyes seemed to be even bluer against the palette of the pale blue coat.

  His grandmother did a little spin to show off the coat, then leaned down to hug him. “I love you, Ethan.”

  “I know that, Nana. I love you, too.”

  “I wish . . .” Her voice got choked up, before she cleared it. “I wish you could be as happy as your grandfather and I were.”

  “I know that, too, Nana,” he replied. “But you have to realize that what you two had was rare. Not many people ever have that.”

  “Maybe. But there is a ‘Wendy kind of love.’”

  “Actually, Nana, there is not.” And that was his final word on the subject.

  The party’s over . . .

  It was another wildly hectic day at the Patterson house.

  The morning started out slow with practical efficiency. No big breakfast. Just muffins and coffee. Elmer stuffed his turkeys and set them aside to put in the oven after all the open house food prep was done. No one was going to church, though some of them would have under normal circumstances.

  They opened some gifts, especially ones for Gloria who would be leaving that day. Gloria seemed to be cognizant for the most part. She thanked Aunt Mildred profusely for the book entitled The Camel Bookmobile, about an American librarian who moves to Africa where she finds a unique method for getting books to remote villagers. Then, while she recognized the framed picture that Elmer gave her of the Bell Cove Library, she didn’t seem to associate it with herself in any work capacity. Until she suddenly wagged a forefinger at Wendy and said, “When are you going to marry that Rutledge boy and put him out of his misery?”

  “What?” Wendy exclaimed.

  “Well, I suppose you have to wait until after graduation, but, good heavens, girl, I’m tired of chasing you two out of the stacks on the second floor.” She grinned as if she’d been aware all along of their shenanigans. When she saw her Navy SEALs sweatshirt, she frowned and glanced around, as if someone was crazy, and it wasn’t her.

  Gloria’s daughter, Sue Ann, arrived earlier than they expected, and, thankfully, Gloria recognized her. Although she’d grown up in Bell Cove, Sue Ann was older than Wendy; so, introductions had to be made, all around. Gloria was a little puzzled about why she was going to her daughter’s home, and no mention was made of her move to a nursing home tomorrow. Best not to confuse her with too many new things, everyone decided.

  There was much hugging and promises to write amongst all the seniors while they loaded the car and it drove off. With tears in their eyes, Aunt Mildred and Claudette began setting up the dining room table with a lace tablecloth, silverware, and serving dishes for a buffet, even though it was supposed to be mainly finger foods. Wendy had suggested buying some quality paper products, but her aunt had looked at her with horror. Not for a Patterson Christmas Open House!

  Claudette went off when Harry called for her to help him with something in the kitchen.

  “What can I do?” Wendy asked.

  “Get out the punch bowl and cups and set them on the kitchen island. You can pour one gallon of the punch
that’s in the garage fridge, but don’t put in the ice cubes until just before the guests begin to arrive. Make sure you use the star-shaped ice cubes with the cranberries inside.”

  “Do you have a non-alcoholic version?”

  “Yes. It’s in the containers marked with a big red X. Put that on the dining room table to distinguish from the boozy one. Grandma Patterson’s second-best punch bowl set is in the hutch.”

  “Okay. Maybe we should put placards next to each of them, just to make sure.”

  “Good idea, honey.”

  Raul came up and asked about setting up a music playlist for the afternoon.

  “Make sure it’s Christmas music,” Aunt Mildred, the commander of this operation, ordered. “No dance music.”

  “Can’t it be both?” Raul grumbled, but then he winked at Wendy and said in an overloud whisper, “Don’t you love when your aunt gets all . . . what you say . . . bossy? Gets my Latin blood boiling.”

  “Oh, you!” Aunt Mildred said and blew a kiss at him as he walked away with a little dance step.

  Wendy and Diane, who had just brought in trays of assorted crackers and gourmet cheeses, exchanged glances of amusement.

  “Nice to know we have something to look forward to when we’re old,” Diane remarked.

  “If we’re lucky!” Wendy said.

  “Are you saying I’m old?” Aunt Mildred protested.

  The house phone rang and Aunt Mildred rushed off to answer it.

  When Wendy began to set up the punch bowl on the kitchen island, she noticed that JAM was mixing a batch of his Santa’s Wild-Ass Elf cocktails, which involved, among other things, peppermint schnapps, shaved dark chocolate, and vodka. A dozen stemmed glasses sat next to his pitcher, each with a mini candy cane hanging over the side. “Wanna taste?” he asked.

  “At eleven thirty?” She glanced pointedly at her watch, then grinned. “Why not?”