All Hearts Come Home for Christmas

by Annalisa Russo

  Melah pointed to Mel as she served me—jeez, this was crazy—served me my salad. Holy moly.

  “Wait. Put this toward her bill and say a customer said to tell her Merry Christmas.”

  Jillian watched herself dig into her purse for the money. She nudged Melah. “I’d been thinking about Oprah and her pay-it-forward challenge.”

  “Shush,” muttered Melah-slash-Carmen-slash-bag-lady-slash-Oprah. “Keep an eye out. Don’t interrupt.”

  Jillian noticed Melissa roll her eyes, but she took the bill and stuffed it into the pocket of her apron. She plugged information into the computer to generate a bill and sauntered over to the woman’s table to present the check. She pulled out Jillian’s ten-dollar bill, set it on the check, and leaned in to explain. The young woman nodded her head and continued to talk on her cell phone while her child busied herself with the crayons.

  Melissa shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes at Jillian again.

  Jillian continued to eat her salad.

  “Well, whatta y’all think?” Melah asked.

  “About what? I thought I did a nice thing. The woman looked like she could use the money, and her kid was adorable, even though her mother practically ignored the poor girl during the whole meal. The least she could have done was put down the phone and parent her child.”

  “Spoken like a true teacher, but this stuff don’t go unnoticed. Trust me.”

  “But the woman didn’t care about the money. She didn’t even quit talking on her cell phone.”

  “Maybe we should keep on watchin’.”

  Jillian watched herself eat the piece of blueberry pie. Mel came by again to refill her coffee cup, and the young woman got ready to leave.

  “Okay. Second act. C’mon, we’re gonna follow her out.”

  “Hey, we’re not dressed for the cold. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in a dressing gown, with foils in my hair.”

  Melah just snorted and waved her on to follow the woman and her child out the door.

  The young mother opened the back door of her vehicle and secured the toddler in the car seat. She rounded the car and scooted into the driver’s seat. Then she dropped her head to the steering wheel and started to sob quietly.

  “What’s she doing? Why is she crying?” The woman’s tear-streaked face was set in misery, her anguish palatable. She sobbed until she hiccupped, then dug in her purse for a tissue and her cell phone.

  “Do you know who she’s calling?” Jillian asked, then rolled her eyes. “Of course, you do. You seem to know everything.”

  “Her mama an’ ’em. She’s gonna ask if she can come home.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “This here young lady fell for a big-time loser. She left home to be with him.” Melah’s lips thinned out. “Too bad she didn’t know he was an abuser, too. She couldn’t find the strength to leave him and ask for help ’cause her mama an’ ’em warned her not to leave home with him. They good people, though. Her mama tried to get her to leave that man plenty of times.” Melah’s eyes went cold and flinty. “She got bruises on her face you can’t see ’cause she put on heavy makeup.”

  “She isn’t going back to him, is she? Maybe if I can talk to her—”

  “You already helped her.” Melah pointed to the woman still on her cell phone. “She called her mama and left him the day you gave her that money.”

  “Good, but I never even talked to the woman. How did I help?”

  Melah smiled and pushed at the drooping grapes again. “You gave her a ten-spot. Right then she remembered there were people in the world who would help her. So she called her mama and asked to come home. In her heart, she knowed her mama an’ ’em would protect her and her baby. She just embarrassed she made a mistake. It don’t matter now. The jerk is in jail, and the girl and her baby is fine as frog’s hair.”

  Jillian shuffled her feet. “I…I guess it made a difference…”

  “Hell, Shug. You did a damn good job.”

  “Hey! Watch your language.”

  ****

  The alarm screamed at five fifteen, and Jillian bolted upright in bed. She tugged frantically at her hair and found it soft and short, curling gently at the nape of her neck. Her dresser mirror reflected the pretty hairdo created by Yolanda’s magic.

  She flopped back on the pillow and searched for some dregs of memory that wouldn’t point to the loony bin and was pleasantly surprised she remembered the entire visit to Nola’s Diner with Melah. But obviously she must have returned to Cut and Caboodle for Yolanda to have finished her cut and blow-dry. But, as hard as she concentrated, she couldn’t remember how she got home.

  Melah had said, “See you soon,” before she poofed this time—in a colorful cloud that matched her Carmen Miranda costume. What exactly did she mean? Later today, next week, next year? But Jillian didn’t have time to mull it over for very long. She needed to hit the shower and get to school. When Buster jumped up on the bed and proceeded to lick her face affectionately, Jillian decided the world must have tilted on its axis, and she swore Buster smelled like candy canes.

  ****

  Other than one referral—Tommy Brown, when he decided to pitch an eraser across her room—Monday had been uneventful. Now it was Tuesday, and one day before the Christmas concert and her caroling party. Ingredients for sub sandwiches were in the fridge, and her mulled wine would only take a few final minutes to prepare. After practice tonight at Margie Thorsen’s house, she’d make the potato salad. Her cheerful group of volunteers needed to gain some confidence before they hit the road, and Margie had a piano. Jillian had eleven names on her list of shut-ins and nursing homes, including one last stop, next door at Mrs. Daily’s. The woman was always so grateful and usually gathered a group of elderly friends to support her carolers.

  Melissa had come through on the angel costume for Gracie, and the girl was thrilled. With her beautiful voice and glittery costume, she’d be a show stopper at the concert tomorrow. Gracie would announce the birth of Jesus to the shepherds, a very important role, and then sing perched on a ladder over the manger.

  For tonight, Mel and Wendy planned to pick up Gracie at six, then Cleo, and then she’d swing by for Jillian about six fifteen.

  Jillian glanced at her reflection in the mirror, tilted her head back and forth, and then decided Yolanda was a genius. Her new hairdo gleamed with highlights and fell perfectly around her face, and Yolanda was right. Long bangs did emphasize her eyes, probably her best feature. She’d experimented with a few new eye products she’d ordered from QVC and had to admit her eyes appeared larger and…if she did say so herself, sexier. She batted her eyelashes at the mirror a couple of times and then laughed out loud.

  Outside, the wind howled. Hopefully, the weatherman had been right when he said winds would calm by morning, but the forecast said Wednesday night’s temperature would rise to a balmy forty-five degrees. Not very likely it would snow for her caroling party.

  When she heard Mel’s car in the drive, she grabbed her coat and rushed out the door. Tristán’s house was dark except for the twinkle lights which decorated the bushes, probably on a timer. She hadn’t had any contact with him or his daughter since he promised to play for the Christmas concert. Cleo had delivered the sheet music to him the day after they spoke, but Jillian hadn’t seen any activity across the street since.

  Cleo also reported Tristán had practiced with the students yesterday after school and another dress rehearsal was scheduled for after school today. Wendy’s play date with Sadie had gone spectacularly, and Mel reported the girls were BFFs in no time. Mel also said Sadie was an unspoiled, lovely child who seemed thrilled to have a new friend.

  Soon their group reached Margie’s house and piled out of the car. Margie had put out some chips and dip and a few crudities. Soft drinks were passed around and then everyone seated themselves around the piano. They practiced the carols on Jillian’s list and then a few more by request, and Gracie’s enthusiasm had been infectious.
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  Since it was only seven-thirty when Mel pulled back into Jillian’s driveway, everyone decided to come in for a nightcap of Christmas cookies and hot chocolate.

  “I noticed Tristán’s light on across the street. Have you been on your date yet?” Cleo asked after they settled in with their cookies. “You would have told us, right?”

  “Maybe. I have you to blame for ruining my love life, Cleo. You’ve kept him busy with rehearsals. How’s that going?”

  “He asked me not to announce to the world who he was, so the janitor designed a folding screen to enclose the piano area, but word has gotten out. So far, no one has abused my rule to leave the pianist alone, but I’m afraid the Brown twins can’t be trusted with the information,” Cleo said. “I expect a leak soon.”

  “Does it bother Tristán?”

  “I think he’s used to rabid fans. He just blew it off. I can’t believe how into the music he was, and on such short notice. Of course, he probably knows by heart all the songs I chose.”

  Jillian passed the plate of cookies again. Wendy eyed her mother and then selected a couple more buttery spritz with green and red sprinkles. “So did you need permission from Donnelly for Tristán to play?”

  “No, he hasn’t bugged me about anything. I told him Tristán would take Henrietta’s place, and he was thrilled. I guess he wants to take some credit for Trystan Sol performing for our little Christmas concert.” Cleo nibbled on her pecan tart.

  “Wendy would like to go to the concert. If Nola will give me an hour off tomorrow, can you get me in?” Mel asked.

  Cleo smiled. “Sure, Donnelly loves me now. Check in at the office at one o’clock, and I’ll tell the secretaries you’ll be assisting me. Find your way to the gym. I’ll be busy setting up there.”

  Wendy clapped her hands. “I wove Sadie’s papa. He’s so pwetty.”

  Jillian caught the quick flash of pain which flitted across Melissa’s face. Poor Wendy was starved for a male’s attention. She sent up a prayer for Melissa’s husband’s safe return from Iraq, and a thank you for the wonderful relationship she enjoyed with her own father.

  Cleo stirred more sugar into her tea. “Has he mentioned anything about Sadie’s mother? If he asked you out, he’s probably divorced, or possibly widowed.”

  “Maybe, but I googled him anyway and found nothing about a marriage or even a serious relationship.” Jillian didn’t want to speculate too much with her friends. It wasn’t fair to Tristán, and Wendy could pick up on the gossip and innocently pass it on.

  “Don’t let him forget about the date,” Melissa admonished.

  Jillian pursed her lips. “Call me old-fashioned, but isn’t the man supposed to ask? Or has that changed now? I realize my dating experience is limited.”

  “Hey, it’s a new world out there,” Cleo quipped. “We got the vote, and now we have the power. If he forgets, remind him.”

  Jillian laughed. “I might not be that liberated. If he remembers, I’ll go, but I won’t ask him. As it was, I practically stepped on my tongue when he came to the door.”

  Melissa reached over with a napkin to wipe cookie crumbs from her daughter’s lips. “Wait until he gets a load of your new hairdo—he’ll swallow his tongue. You’ll have to beat the men off with a stick now.” She plucked her daughter off the stack of encyclopedia. “Got to go. Past this little girl’s bedtime. Tell Jillie thanks for the cookies, Wendy.”

  Since Mel was driving, they all left about eight-thirty. Jillian changed into her flannel PJs and wool socks, curled up on the sofa with the afghan, and flicked on the television. With her favorite sitcom in the background, her thoughts drifted to what Tristán’s life must have been like with Last Bluff.

  The tabloids were her only source of information, but they painted a volatile lifestyle shot through with drama and theatrics. The boy she knew would have hated any attention that wasn’t about the music. Sadie’s mother could have been part of the same scene, or maybe left because of it. Or…more disastrous, she could have succumbed to it.

  Jillian thought about her secure, happy childhood, with plenty of options to fulfill her dreams, all fully supported by her parents, and counted herself lucky.

  When the mantel clock struck ten, Jillian let out a gigantic yawn and flicked off the television. Wednesday was a big day. Her students would be insanely excited. Many of them would perform in the concert—and then the caroling party at night. She secretly hoped Melah-slash-Oprah would let her get a good night’s sleep. As adorable as her PJs were, she didn’t want to be traipsing across town in them.

  Chapter Nine

  Jillian bumped into Cleo on her way to class. “How’s set-up going? Do you need me for anything during my plan time?”

  “No, I’ve got it covered. Admin got me a sub for the whole day, so I’m headed to the gym as soon as I check over my lesson plan. The parents really came through, too. Some of the fathers have been here all night. Tristán came in early and pitched in, too. Why don’t you casually drop by, you know, to offer your help setting up?”

  Jillian laughed. “Oh, sure, that’s subtle. Has anyone recognized him yet?”

  “If anyone has, they’ve been very polite about it.” Cleo grabbed her mail from her mailbox and reached for her access keycard. She slid it through the lock, and Jillian followed her through the door and into the hallway. “I think he’s enjoying himself. He’s in disguise.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Jillian exclaimed. “What kind of disguise?”

  “His hair is in a man bun. He’s wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a thin fake mustache,” Cleo said, “and he’s still hot. Smokin’ hot.”

  Jillian was still laughing when she arrived at her room. “Jeeez!” she said with a start. “What are you doing here?” She waved her hands around.

  Melah rose from lounging among the math manipulatives and stretched. “Huh?’

  “I have to swipe my security card four times to get to my room. How did you get in?”

  “I got my ways. But I ain’t stayin’ long. I just popped in to tell you I’d see you later. Ya’ll get so riled when I show up unexpected-like.” Melah was in her Carmen Miranda outfit again. She pulled the banana out of her turban and began to peel it. “So, see you later.” She saluted Jillian with the banana and poofed.

  Jillian collapsed into her desk chair and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I can’t keep doing this,” she muttered. “I’ve got to make an appointment to see a shrink and get my head examined.”

  A half hour later, there was a soft knock at her door, and Tristán strode in with Sadie in his arms. Jillian stood up behind her desk. “Hi, there, Sadie, Tristán.” Her mouth turned dry, but she managed to plaster a smile on her face. “Hey, thanks for helping Cleo with the concert.”

  Her friend had been right. The man was still gorgeous even in disguise. Worn jeans, an untucked white shirt with the sleeves folded to the elbow, a gold watch that probably had cost half her yearly salary, and sexy leather loafers. Oh, boy.

  When Tristán set Sadie on her feet, the little girl immediately headed toward the stack of books lined up on the ledge of the white board. She stopped, turned, and looked back at Jillian with those big soulful eyes.

  “It’s okay, sweetie, you can look at them. Go ahead.” Jillian turned back to Tristán with her heart pounding a little too fast in her chest. “What can I do for you?”

  “I hate to bother you, but Sadie refused to stay with the sitter I had lined up for today. She knew I planned to be gone all day again.” He scrubbed at the back of his neck. “She gets worried when…well…so I had to bring her, but I wondered if she could stay with you until after the concert. She promised not to be any trouble.”

  “I’ll be good, Jillie. Promise.” Sadie hugged one of the books to her chest, her beautiful black eyes hopeful.

  “Oh, honey, I’d be glad to have you in my math class today. You can go to lunch with me, too, if your father says okay. My students will love you, and you can sit right here by my desk.
” Jillian pointed to the special desk.

  “Can I, Daddy? I’ll be good.”

  “Melissa is planning to bring Wendy to the concert, too. Around one o’clock. If it’s all right with you, Sadie could sit with them for the show.” She bent down to Sadie’s level. “Would you like that, Sadie? You and Wendy can watch the program together and hear your daddy play the piano.” When Sadie nodded enthusiastically, Tristán grinned at his daughter, a grin that made Jillian’s heart skip a beat.

  “Perfect. I’ll catch up with you after the bell rings, then, if Cleo doesn’t need me after the show for cleanup.”

  “Works for me.” At that moment, Graciela showed up at the door and peeked around the corner. “C’mon in, Gracie,” Jillian said. “There is someone I’d like you to meet.”

  Poor Gracie gaped at Tristán with an open mouth. Not unlike her own pitiful reaction to Trystan Sol.

  ****

  Sheridan Intermediate School rang with the clamor of excited fifth and sixth graders. Jillian waited with her homeroom class for instructions over the PA system to proceed to the gym for the long-awaited Christmas concert. Earlier, like his brother, Jimmy Brown’s over-the-top exuberance had earned him a stint in the principal’s office, but he was back now and not any less irritating, so Sadie had to give up her special desk. When Wendy popped in to say hello on her way to the gym, Jillian asked her to take Sadie along. When the two girls left her room, they were holding hands and giggling. If nothing else, Jillian felt they were becoming fast friends, maybe for life—like she and Tristán used to be.

  Soon, the noise level rose exponentially. All Jillian’s students were finally seated in the fifth-grade section of the bleachers. The gym had been transformed into a small town called Bethlehem. Shepherds, with cloaks and staffs, watched over their unruly sheep in a nearby field, and a rustic barn, complete with hay and farm animals, took center stage. Through the weathered barn doors, the audience could see a sliver of light. Stars twinkled overhead, courtesy of the tech department, and soft music played in the background.