The Nine Lives of Christmas

by Sheila Roberts

  “I don’t know. He went to get the cat.”

  Into the house? He went back in for the cat? What had he been thinking? Never run back inside when your house is on fire.

  Daniel immediately began calling in vital information. “Single family dwelling, ten-zero-seven P.M. Two-story, wood frame. Fire on the first extending to the second. Possible rescue…”

  A million thoughts banged at Zach’s brain as he donned his gear and grabbed his ax and fire extinguisher.

  What am I going to find when I get inside the house? Al dead in there? Unconscious? If only I’d traded with someone and gotten Christmas Eve off I could have prevented this.

  The wild thoughts were counterproductive. Once more, he pushed them away and went to work. Ray, as engineer, was staying with the truck, taking care of the water supply, and Julio was already stretching a line. The medics were in place and the ladder truck had arrived. As Zach raced for the house he could see his pals Pete and Jason out of the corner of his eye, preparing to go up the roof and cut holes in it.

  Zach had just reached the front porch when Al staggered around the side of the house, coughing and carrying Queenie. Thank God, he thought, as he helped his stepfather away from the blazing ruin that once was his home. Al would be spending Christmas in the hospital, the house would be unlivable for months and its contents ruined by smoke, but the family was alive. They’d be all right. Holding firmly to that belief, Zach entered the house, Daniel now right behind him.

  The inside was an inferno, filled with angry flames bent on destruction. Within five minutes Zach was sweating inside his protective gear like a pig roasting over a spit. The stairs collapsed like a child’s tower of blocks. He moved quickly and carefully, putting out the flame. Memory raced across his mind, showing Natalie and Kendra, a little first-grader and a preschooler, running eagerly downstairs ahead of him on Christmas morning. Santa came! Come on, Zachie. Hurry! Ancient history, but now important history.

  He and Daniel finally stopped the last fiery tongues before they could devour the kitchen and family room. The rest of the house was toast.

  It only took minutes to subdue the flames. It would take hours to do salvage and overhaul and investigate the area of origination. That wasn’t Zach’s job, but since his engine was the first on the scene, they’d still be the last ones out.

  When the worst was over, he took a minute to check on his family. Al was long gone, whisked away by the ambulance, and Mom was trying to comfort the Steps, who were both crying.

  “It’s all my fault,” wailed Natalie. “I forgot about my scented candle. It must have caught my curtains on fire.”

  “If we hadn’t all been watching Miracle on 34th Street in the family room we’d have been dead,” said Kendra. She shivered and rubbed her arms and Natalie sobbed harder.

  Mom hugged them both close. “But we’re not. We’re all together and that’s the main thing.”

  “You guys can stay at my place,” Zach told his mom. “There’s a spare key under that rock by the back porch.”

  “I’ll get the girls settled and then go to the hospital,” said Mom. Her voice was steady but she looked like she’d aged ten years.

  Zach gave her a hug. “I’ll be home day after tomorrow.”

  “Oh no, you won’t,” said his battalion chief. “You’re off after we get done here. Spend some time with your family.”

  Amazingly, that sounded like a great idea.

  * * *

  No one got to bed before two A.M., so Zach had been sure Mom and the Steps would sleep the sleep of the dead. He hadn’t figured on his mother prowling the house. He’d given her his bedroom and the Steps and Queenie were in Gram’s old brass bed in the other room, while Zach sacked out on the couch in the living room with Tom curled up at his feet. But off and on he’d heard the faint creak of floorboards upstairs. At six he’d heard his mother slip downstairs and pad into the kitchen. The light didn’t go on, though. Instead, she sat there in the dark. At six thirty he gave up and joined her.

  She blinked and looked guilty when he walked into the room and flipped on the light. “Did I wake you?”

  “Nah.” She looked so forlorn. And alone. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, a gesture that felt both foreign and right. She smelled like his body wash. He made a mental note to pick up some girl stuff for her and the Steps. And some more body wash for himself. Between his mother and his stepsisters, they’d go through everything he had in a hurry. Natalie had taken two showers before she finally crashed, claiming she could still smell smoke. He’d heard her in there sobbing as the water ran.

  Mom put a hand to his face, maybe to see if he was really there or if she’d imagined what just happened. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Hey, I wasn’t going to leave you out on the street.”

  “No, for…” Her voice failed her and she looked at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap.

  “You should try and get some more sleep,” he said gently. He knew it was a futile suggestion. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep any easier than Nat was going to be able to forgive herself.

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I…” She stopped, obviously choking on emotion, and shook her head.

  Zach had seen the faces of stricken fire victims before, but they’d always been a sad blur on the sidelines as he raced to save what he could of their homes. This was different, a punch to the gut.

  He sat down opposite her and reached across the table to take her hand. “Al’s going to be okay. You know that, right?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “I’m thankful we’re alive, but it’s all so hard to process. I don’t even know where to start. I’m concerned about Natalie, that she won’t be able to forgive herself.”

  “It was an accident,” Zach said. “Accidents happen.”

  “That’s easy to say when you’re not the one responsible.” Mom rubbed her forehead.

  “I’ve got ibuprofin,” Zach offered.

  She shook her head. “I found it. I’ve already taken two. Zach.” She bit her lip, watching him with teary eyes. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  Five little words, but they flooded Zach with a tidal wave of emotions so strong he thought his chest would crack open—everything from anger to yearning, vindication to shame. “Oh, Mom.” What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to think?

  “I don’t blame you for not wanting anything to do with me. I wish I could redo the last fifteen years.”

  Fifteen? Longer than that. She needed to start the clock ticking from when she threw Dad out. Zach rubbed his aching head.

  “Every time I called you were so angry. I just … stopped. I was a coward. And I was a rotten mother to you.”

  There it was, what he’d been waiting to hear for years. It should have made him feel better but it only made him want to bawl like a baby.

  “Oh, Zach, I wish I could hit rewind. I’d do so many things different.”

  Now she was crying in earnest, her grief so strong it was an ocean that threatened to drown them both. Zach knelt beside her and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay, Mom.” Was it? He didn’t even know at this point but it was all he could think to say. He, too, wished they could hit rewind, but the only way open to them was forward.

  Maybe forward wasn’t such a bad direction to go.

  She got herself under control and managed a watery smile. “You grew into a wonderful man. I’m happy for that.”

  The observation didn’t sit comfortably. “I think we need some breakfast,” he decided.

  She started to get up but he waved her back into her seat. “I can handle it. What do you want?”

  “Just coffee.”

  “Coffee and eggs,” Zach decided, and got to work. “It’s going to be a long day.”

  She sighed. “I suspect it’s going to be a succession of long days.”

  Breakfast was silent, a time of recovery from the emotional storm they’d just survived. Afterward his mother went upstairs to
shower and dress.

  Another hour crawled past, and Zach found himself feeling very much at loose ends. He loaded the dishes, he walked back to the couch and thumbed through a magazine, he paced. And as he paced he looked around his house. There was nothing here that said Christmas. Was that good or bad?

  By nine, one of his mom’s friends had swept her off to the hospital to see Al, and Kendra had surfaced. Zach knew as he watched his stepsister looking around with a trembling lip that the day was not starting well, but he had no idea how to make it better.

  “Want some coffee?” he asked, trying to sound cheerful.

  She nodded and followed him out to the kitchen and opened a cupboard in search of a mug. “Over here,” he said, opening a door and grabbing one for her.

  She thanked him and took it, poured herself some coffee. “Where’s Angie?”

  The Steps had never called his mother “Mom,” just like he’d never called Al “Dad.” They’d never been the Brady Bunch. Was it too late to try? “She went to see your dad at the hospital.”

  Kendra frowned. “She should have waited. I’d have gone with her.” Now she was gnawing on a corner of her lower lip, and Zach knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “He’s going to be okay,” he said.

  She dropped onto a chair and scowled at him like it was somehow his fault her father was in the hospital. “How do you know? How do you know he’s not going to get emphysema or something because of this?”

  He would rather have been in a burning building than here in this kitchen trying to figure out what to say to his miserable stepsister. He took a deep breath. “You’re right. I can’t give you a money-back guarantee. But you know what, there are no guarantees. Meanwhile, he’s getting the best care possible.” Now Kendra’s baby blues were turning into a sea of tears. Oh, no. “Hey, now, don’t cry,” Zach pleaded.

  Too late. She burst into sobs. “Poor Daddy.”

  Zach found himself kneeling in front of that same kitchen chair once more, trying to make things right. He was trained to put out fires, not to offer grief counseling, and he felt his inadequacies like a boulder on his shoulders.

  Half an hour later Natalie joined them and there were more tears. “It’s all my fault,” she wailed.

  “Hey, now,” Zach said sternly, “don’t go saying stuff like that.”

  “But it is,” Nat insisted.

  Well, yeah, in a way. People got careless, especially at the holidays. But, he pointed out, “You’re not an arsonist. It’s not like you set out to start a fire. Shit happens, Nat.”

  “Our house is ruined,” she sobbed. “And so is Christmas.”

  “No, it’s not.” Zach held her at arm’s length and gave her his sternest big-brother look. “Everyone’s alive and we’re together and that’s what matters. And it’s still Christmas, so after breakfast we’re going to go get a tree.”

  “We don’t have any ornaments,” said Natalie. “I burned them all up.” With that she burst into fresh tears.

  “I’ve got ornaments,” said Zach.

  Kendra looked dubious. “You do?”

  He frowned at her. “What do I look like, the Grinch?”

  “Your house looks like his headquarters,” she retorted, softening the slam with a teasing smile.

  “Well, we’re going to change that.” He marched to the kitchen cupboard and grabbed a box of pancake mix. Then he pulled out a big metal bowl. “We’re going to fuel up with a good breakfast and then we’re going out and getting a tree.”

  He put his sisters to work setting the table while he made pancakes. Of course, that turned out to be a waste. He set out a huge stack but neither girl ate more than one. In fact, Natalie only managed one bite, then spent the next ten minutes pushing what was left around her plate.

  “Have another,” he said to her, nudging the platter in her direction.

  She just shook her head.

  Like another pancake would make her feel better? What a dope he was.

  What would Merilee of the perfect family do? And why on earth was he thinking about her at a time like this? Maybe it was because she seemed to have her act together. In fact, it sounded like her whole family did. How did people manage that, anyway? He didn’t know but he hoped he’d learn.

  “Okay, then,” he tried, “let’s go get us a tree.”

  Ten minutes later he had the girls bundled up in a couple of his cast-off jackets and gloves that swallowed their hands and they were in his Land Rover, all the necessary tree-toting ingredients in the back—ax, gloves, rope, tarp—and headed for Grandma’s Christmas Tree Farm two miles outside of town, serenaded by Christmas songs on the radio. A few stray snowflakes drifted lazily toward the ground, framing gaily decorated houses with a touch of winter. Both the Steps were normally big talkers, but this morning they remained unnervingly quiet. Zach stole a look at them. Kendra was lost in dark thoughts and Natalie was surreptitiously wiping tears from her eyes as she looked out the window.

  “Hey now, you two, everything’s going to be okay.” It would be. Somewhere down the road, it would be. They could rebuild the house. And while they were at it, maybe they could build a family.

  Kendra reached out and took her sister’s gloved hand and squeezed it. “He’s right. We’re alive and we’re together.”

  “I know. But Daddy…” Natalie’s voice broke.

  “Will be okay,” Zach assured her. “Who knows? They may even let him come home today.”

  “I doubt it,” said Kendra, making Natalie’s tears flow again.

  Thank you, Kendra. He frowned at her.

  “Sorry,” she muttered.

  “Well, he’ll be home soon,” Zach insisted. “So let’s get the biggest kick-ass Christmas tree we can find to give him a good welcome. Okay?”

  Both girls nodded and he breathed a little easier. Things were looking up.

  Until they got to Grandma’s Christmas Tree Farm and saw the gate across the road with the big CLOSED sign on it. Grandma was obviously too busy cooking Christmas dinner to bother with customers on Christmas day. Hardly surprising. People already had their trees.

  Kendra cocked a mocking eyebrow at Zach as if it was somehow his fault that Grandma took the day off. “Now what?”

  Failure was not acceptable. He couldn’t change what had happened, but by damn he could at least get a tree. “We go get a bargain,” he said and backed up the Land Rover.

  They returned to town to the corner housing a now sparsely populated lot of live trees, circled with colored lights. The hand-painted sign at one end read UNCLE WALLY’S TREES. It seemed that everyone in the tree business was your long-lost family member.

  Uncle Wally was right on hand to greet them as they approached. He looked like the kind of person you invited to your family Christmas dinner because you had to. He had a big belly, barely contained by a plaid flannel shirt and a parka, and was wearing baggy jeans and army boots. On the top of his head he sported a hunter’s cap, on the bottom a couple of extra chins.

  “Hello there, folks,” he sang. “Got some great bargains for you today.”

  Zach looked around at what was left. Ten-foot giants and spindly messes losing their needles. Bargains. Right. “I can see,” he said.

  “You caught me just in time,” said Uncle Wally. He nodded in the direction of a small trailer at the end of the lot. “Me and the missus are just about to have our turkey dinner.”

  Turkey dinner. Uh-oh. Zach hadn’t even thought about dinner. Would the girls want turkey? Or would the sight of a holiday feast only make them wish they were back in their own house? It was a moot question. He knew enough about cooking to know there would be no thawing a turkey in time for dinner today. Heck, things weren’t even looking good in the tree department.

  “This is nice,” said Kendra, drifting over to a small tree.

  Natalie hung back but Zach joined her. He took the tree and gave it a shake. A million needles hit the ground. A nice, dry tree—that was what they needed.
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br />   “Hey,” protested Uncle Wally. “Careful of the merchandise.”

  “This no longer qualifies as merchandise. It’s kindling,” Zach retorted. “Come on, girls, these trees are a fire hazard.”

  “Well, whaddya expect when you wait till the last minute?” Uncle Wally called after them as they trooped out of the lot. “It’s Christmas Day, for crying out loud.”

  “Duh,” said Kendra under her breath.

  Zach ground his teeth.

  She laid a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. We don’t need a tree.”

  “Yes, we do,” he insisted.

  “I think we’re sort of out of options,” said Kendra.

  “No, we’re not.”

  “Okaaaay,” she said, humoring him. “So what now?”

  “Now we do the manly man thing,” he said. “We’re going into the woods.”

  “The woods?” echoed Natalie, sounding anything but thrilled.

  He turned and frowned at her. “What?”

  She held up a foot shod in a black ballerina slipper. “No boots.”

  Oh, yeah. That. The girls didn’t have a winter wardrobe anymore. The girls didn’t have a wardrobe, period. “Well, then, you guys can wait in the car while I get the tree.”

  “By ourselves?” squeaked Natalie.

  “I vote we go back to Uncle Wally,” said Kendra.

  Zach shook his head. “No. No fire hazard trees.”

  “Agreed,” said Natalie fervently.

  “Maybe Grandma will open up for us if we explain about the fire,” Kendra suggested.

  “That’s a good idea,” seconded Natalie.

  Zach thought going into the woods was a better idea, but it was best to humor the Steps. “Okay. Back to Grandma’s.”

  Over the river and through the woods to Grandma’s place they went. And then it was over the fence for Zach and past the CLOSED sign and up the gravel road snugged in by rows and rows of cheery Christmas trees. He rounded a bend in the road and came on a clearing. There, in all its glory, sat a decrepit mobile home with an equally decrepit, rusted truck parked in front of it. An angry bark drew his attention to a pit bull chained to a scraggly fir tree.