Forever Christmas

by Robert Tate Miller

“Sure,” Andrew said. He looked around to see if she was with anyone, but she appeared to be alone.

  “So how’s it going?” the woman said.

  “Fine,” Andrew said.

  “Is it?” she said. “Is it fine, Andrew? Because it doesn’t appear to be going so well to me.”

  Andrew stared at her. She gave him a coy little smile and then pointed to a gold decorative pin stuck to her hat. It was in the shape of a key, the same key that Lionel had given him the night Beth died.

  Andrew looked around. “Who are you?”

  The old lady smiled. “I think you know the answer to that question. Perhaps, since things aren’t going so well with Beth, I ought to remind you that you only have a little more than two days left to set things right. Doesn’t time fly when you’re having fun?”

  “Fun?” Andrew said. “You think this is fun?” He leaned in close. “I need an extension.”

  The little lady cackled. “An extension? How precious you are! Now, I think you know that’s not going to happen.”

  “If you’re an angel, then you should be able to shake your magic wand or sprinkle your mystical powder—or whatever it is you do—and make it happen. Because I need more time.”

  “Oh, my dear. We don’t carry wands or magic powder. We are bound by the rules of the universe, just like everybody else. Three days is all you’ve been granted. And it seems you’ve already wasted one of them.”

  Andrew put a hand on her arm. “Please,” he said. “I need more time.”

  The woman patted his cheek affectionately. “You dear, dear boy. Christmas Eve, 11:58. Time will expire. It is your wife’s destiny. Fate is fate. It cannot be trifled with.”

  Andrew looked away, spotted Beth in the crowd near the bandstand.

  “Yeah, well, fate’s not fair,” he said.

  “Have you given any thought to that gift?” the woman said.

  Andrew brightened a little. “I’ve got something in mind. I’m going to surprise her.”

  The lady clapped her gloved hands. “Well, that’s good news. Beth likes surprises.” She winked at him. “Well, surprises not named Kimberly, anyway.”

  Andrew glared at her. “Don’t push your luck.”

  Just then Mayor Ed Drummond stepped up onto the bandstand and took the microphone. Behind him, the drummer in a five-piece band beat out a roll. The crowd applauded and cheered as the mayor held up his hand, gave them a big toothy politician’s grin.

  “Thank you, friends, and merry Christmas!” The crowd called back in kind. The mayor looked up at the towering tree, sitting there dark. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why our tree isn’t lit,” he said.

  A man called out from the crowd, “Hey, Mayor! You forget to pay the electric bill?” Laughter rolled through the crowd, and the mayor joined in.

  “That guy stole my line,” Andrew said. He turned to the old lady, but she was no longer beside him. She seemed to have vanished into thin air.

  “Not quite, Harley,” Mayor Drummond said. “Seems we have some kind of defect in the wiring. So far, nobody’s been able to figure it out. But, lights or no lights, our band is cooking tonight, and they’re taking requests!”

  “ ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas!’ ” Beth called out. Andrew smiled. He knew how much Beth loved that song.

  The mayor searched for the voice, and he smiled as he recognized Beth. “Well, if it isn’t the founder of my favorite charity, Best Buddies. Let’s give Beth McCarthy a big welcome home!”

  The crowd cheered. Mayor Drummond scanned the crowd. “Did Andy come with you?” Andrew weakly threw up a hand, but no one seemed to notice. He saw Beth look around to see if she could spot him, but their eyes never met.

  “He’s around here somewhere, Mr. Mayor!” she said. Andrew watched her whisper something to Megan, then saw Megan give her a sympathetic pat on the back.

  He wondered what Beth had said.

  Beth leaned against a tree and listened as the band kicked into a slow, sleepy version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” The crowd joined in, swaying with their candles. Megan leaned into Beth. “I could go for some hot chocolate. Want some?”

  “Sure,” Beth said.

  “Back in a jiffy,” Megan said. Beth watched her friend head off through the crowd, then did another quick scan for Andrew. He seemed to have vanished into the night. Probably checking his e-mail or returning a call.

  And then, out of the blue, an off-key voice blared from the big speakers. Andrew Farmer was singing a solo:

  Christmas Eve will find me

  Where the love light gleams;

  I’ll be home for Christmas,

  If only in my dreams . . .

  Beth put her hand to her mouth. She could scarcely believe what she was seeing. There was her husband onstage singing into the microphone, belting out a song, looking right at her, preening and gesturing like some cheesy lounge singer. Andrew really leaned into it, put it all on the line like King Karaoke.

  What in the world? She had never known Andrew Farmer to do something so silly, so romantic.

  The crowd joined in to help him out on the final line: “If only in my dreams.”

  As the song finished, Andrew stepped down from the stage, moved through the crowd to Beth, and took her in his arms. A movie moment. They kissed as the crowd repeated the last line and then broke into enthusiastic applause.

  From the other side of the bandstand, an old woman watched the sweet scene and smiled. She casually flicked an index finger, as if flipping some invisible switch. The towering Christmas tree flickered to light. The crowd gasped and cheered.

  Beth and Andrew didn’t even notice. They were lost in each other’s eyes and oblivious to everything else on earth. The old woman smiled and spoke to the sparkling, clear night sky.

  “I love my job.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The old tower bell in the First Christian Church tolled ten as Andrew and Beth made their way back to the River Falls Inn. Beth looped her arm through his, rested her head on his shoulder. They had shared a connection back in the square, the first real connection in a long time. Was it possible that the Andrew Farmer she fell in love with so long ago had come back to her?

  “Tonight is a moment for the ages,” Beth said. “Andrew Farmer sings.”

  “Maybe I should audition for American Idol,” Andrew said.

  “Let’s not push it.” Beth squeezed his arm. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

  Andrew stopped, turned her to him, and looked deeply into her eyes. “Beth, I would do anything for you.”

  She reached up and caressed his face. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but at that moment, what she really wanted was just to look at him, to enjoy the closeness that had for so long eluded them.

  Mitch and Megan caught up to them. “Encore!” Mitch said.

  “Sorry,” Andrew said. “My singing career begins and ends tonight.”

  “Then it’s a shame your father wasn’t there to see it,” Mitch said.

  Beth cringed inwardly as she watched Andrew’s face change. He tensed up, let go of her arm. She shot a warning look at Mitch, but he was oblivious and, besides, it was too late now.

  “You know, I’m really tired,” Beth said. “We’d better get going.” She tugged on Andrew’s arm to pull him away, but he held his ground.

  “My father?” Andrew said.

  Clueless, Mitch plunged ahead. “Well, I mean, it must be tough for him to get out these days.”

  Beth watched Andrew stiffen. “I wouldn’t know.”

  Beth looked again for an exit. “Well, I guess we’ll see you guys tomorrow,” she said. She tried again to pull Andrew’s hand, but he wasn’t budging.

  “Mitch, let’s go,” Megan said. She had obviously picked up on the awkward vibe, had seen Beth’s face and knew Mitch had ventured into dangerous territory. She was doing her best to move her own husband in the opposite direction.

  Mitch remained oblivious. “Have
you dropped in to see him yet?”

  “Mitch, he’s in Arizona,” Andrew said. “Or maybe Florida, last I heard.”

  Mitch gave Beth a puzzled look.

  “Mitch, we really need to go,” Megan said. She dug her fingernails into his arm.

  “What’s going on here?” Andrew said. Beth looked away. She didn’t want to do this, at least not in the middle of the street. “Beth?”

  Megan grabbed her husband’s arm, dragged him away. “We’re off to find the kids,” she said. “See you guys later.”

  “Bye,” Beth said. She could hear Megan giving Mitch a tongue lashing as they moved off. Beth looked at Andrew. His face was cold and distant again. The magical moment had turned on a dime.

  “Beth?”

  She looked him in the eye, drew a deep breath. “Andrew, your dad moved back to River Falls not long ago. He lives at the nursing home.”

  “How long?”

  “Several months. Six maybe,” Beth said.

  “My father’s been in River Falls for six months, and you . . . and nobody told me? What happened to his . . . to Connie or Callie or whatever her name is?”

  “Carrie. She left him almost three years ago.”

  Andrew set his jaw. “Of course she did. It’s called poetic justice.”

  “Andrew—”

  “And how did you know he was here? Who told you?”

  Beth took a beat. She really didn’t want to tell him.

  “Beth?”

  “We’ve kept in touch.”

  “You’ve kept in touch? What, are you Facebook friends?”

  “No, Andrew. More like pen pals. I’ve been writing your dad for years. He likes to know how you’re doing. He likes to feel that he’s still part of the family.”

  Andrew took a step back from her. “Part of the family? Oh, so now he wants to be part of the family? Well, that’s just rich.”

  Beth could tell he wanted to walk away from her, but something kept him there. He took a few deep breaths. “Does he know we’re here?”

  Beth shook her head.

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way.” With that, Andrew turned and walked up the street. Beth hesitated for a moment, then hurried to catch up to him.

  “Andrew, he’s sick. He has emphysema. He’s really struggling.”

  “Two cartons a week. What do you expect?”

  “Andrew, don’t be that way. He’s still your father.”

  “Beth, you know my history with that man. Where was he when Mom was dying? Huh? Where was he when she was calling his name, begging me to find him? Where was he at her funeral? He left us behind without so much as a glance in the rearview mirror, and I’m just supposed to act like it never happened?”

  “I’m not asking you to forget, Andrew. But if you don’t at least try and find a way to forgive him, your resentment will consume you. It will destroy you—destroy us.”

  Beth watched as Andrew tried to get a handle on his emotions.

  Finally he spoke. “Beth, I’m sorry. It’s just . . . well, the timing couldn’t be worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean . . . we’re here having our time together. Our time. The last thing we need is to have to deal with . . . this stuff.”

  “But, Andrew, he’s your father.”

  “No, he’s not. He’s nothing to me. I’m sorry, Beth, but I hate that man. I don’t ever want to see him again. Not ever.”

  Beth could see the deep pain in his eyes and decided it was best not to press the issue. “Come on, then,” she said. “Let’s call it a night.”

  In the predawn hours of the next morning, Andrew sat in a chair and stared out the frosted window. A few feet away, Beth slept, her face peaceful and serene.

  Andrew watched her, tried to imagine life without her. How long would it take until he was able to look at her picture again, read one of her old letters, glance through one of her countless scrapbooks? How long would it be until he stopped being choked with guilt? How long until he could move on?

  His mind danced through his past, murky memories of his absent father mixed with happy glimpses of Beth. She’d always been there for him, and Lord knows he’d taken her for granted. He could almost hear Joni Mitchell singing “Big Yellow Taxi” in his head:

  Don’t it always seem to go

  That you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone . . .

  How could he have come to this point? And why had Fate chosen him for this cruel little experiment? Had others been given similar do-overs? If so, why hadn’t he read about it in Reader’s Digest?

  He thought back to that moment in the Chicago hotel room with Kimberly. Did that really happen? Was the entire trip just an illusion? Or was this the illusion?

  Beth stirred in bed, saw him sitting there, watching her. She spoke in a sleepy voice. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  “I could never be mad at you.”

  “In that case . . . want to hike out to Waller’s Pond in the morning?”

  Andrew smiled. He loved the way she slurred her words when she was really tired. “Sure,” he said.

  Beth patted the mattress. “Come to bed.”

  “I will soon,” Andrew said. “I promise.”

  Beth rolled back over, fluffed the pillow, and drifted back to sleep. Andrew watched her for a moment and then withdrew into his tormented thoughts.

  A little more than a mile from Town Square, Waller’s Pond sat at the edge of an idyllic woodsy park that was a year-round favorite with picnickers, ice skaters, hikers, joggers, and dog walkers. Andrew and Beth made the hike to the park in just under half an hour. But the scenic trail that cut from the park entrance back through the woods to the pond was covered with icy snow, two feet deep in some places. The going was slow.

  As they plodded through the crunchy snow, Beth and Andrew could hear the happy shouts and laughter of children bouncing off the trees.

  Beth wrapped her gloved hand around Andrew’s. “Feels like old times.”

  “I wonder how many times we’ve walked this path together,” Andrew said.

  Beth squeezed his hand. “Who knows? Dozens. Hundreds.”

  Andrew looked away to hide his stinging eyes. He knew this would be the last time they made this journey together. Lionel’s words echoed in his head: “At 11:58 p.m. Christmas Eve, Beth must keep her date with that speeding taxi. I’m sorry, Andrew, but that is her fate.”

  Andrew thought of Bill Murray in Groundhog Day and wished he could find a way to freeze this day, to live it over and over again into eternity. He felt Beth watching him.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” she said.

  “You’d be overpaying,” Andrew said. How would Beth react if she knew what he was thinking?

  “Andrew, are you ashamed of me?”

  The question was so abrupt Andrew wasn’t sure he heard right. He stopped, and Beth turned to him. “What did you say?”

  “Are you ashamed of me?”

  The literary agent who prided himself on being able to think on his feet was suddenly tongue-tied. Was she serious? Could she really think that?

  He hoped his wife might suddenly crack a smile and let him off the hook, show him she was just pulling his leg. That she knew better. Instead, Beth waited patiently for his answer.

  “Beth, how could you think such a thing?”

  “I’m not sure why I wonder, but I do,” she said. “Back here when we were growing up, I always felt that we had this special connection. I knew that no matter what I did, you were always in my corner cheering me on. But lately, it seems we’ve lost that. It feels like you’ve given up on me. And I’m thinking maybe it’s because I don’t have some big corporate career—”

  “Beth, no. That’s not . . .” Andrew took her hands in his. “Nothing could be further from the truth. I don’t care about all that. I watch you, Beth. I see how you always put others first, how you give of yourself over and over again. Most people wake up in the morning thinking about themselves, how they
can further their own ambitions. You wake up thinking about others, how you can make someone’s life a little better, a little happier. Beth, you have this . . . this light that flows out of every part of you. I watch you, and I wonder how a person can be so good and caring. And then I wonder how a guy like me could have gotten so lucky as to have someone like Beth McCarthy in his life. Ashamed of you? Are you kidding me, Beth? I don’t even deserve you.”

  Beth smiled. “I love you, Andrew Farmer.”

  “I love you too.” Andrew pulled her in for a kiss.

  “Mmm,” Beth said. “That’s nice. Now, close your eyes.”

  “Close my eyes?”

  “Just close them. I have a surprise for you.”

  “Oooh, I like the sound of that,” Andrew said. He closed his eyes.

  “Don’t peek,” Beth said. Andrew could hear Beth kneel down and scoop up a handful of snow. “Okay, surprise!” She plopped the snow on his head, then burst into a fit of laughter. “Just living in the moment!” she said.

  “Oh yeah?” Andrew said. “Now it’s my moment!”

  He grabbed Beth and tackled her to the snowy ground. They wrestled in the snow, laughing and struggling until they finally came to rest with Andrew on top. Beth smiled up at him, brushed a hair back from his face. Andrew caught his breath and gazed down into her lovely flushed face. “I win,” he said.

  “What’s your prize?”

  Andrew took her glowing face in his hands, and they melded into a slow, sweet kiss. Afterward, he wiped a bit of ice from her chin with his thumb. “You’re my snow angel,” he said.

  “We haven’t kissed like that in a long time,” she said. “It felt nice.”

  Their eyes lingered on each other for a moment, and Andrew wondered if she was trying to read his mind, searching for clues as to the cause of his positive transformation. He was afraid she still didn’t trust it, afraid she thought he had some ulterior motive.

  “Beth, if you were about to die, would you want to know?”

  “What a funny question,” she said. “What made you think of that?”