A Merry Little Christmas

by Catherine Palmer

  There was a tug of a drawer opening, then thumping shut. Another opening. She heard the clink of flatware. Colt, helping to set the table. In the living room, Jeremy was chatting earnestly with Ed, and Jessie’s eyes had begun to droop as she was cradled in Vi’s arms.

  Colt brushed against her, as solid as granite. “You’re worried she won’t be home for Christmas.”

  She couldn’t nod. She couldn’t move. The wave of sorrow returned with tsunami force.

  “Oh.” He laid his hand to his heart, as if he knew the words she could not allow to form, not in her thoughts and not in words.

  “That’s only ten days away.”

  “Three weeks ago, she was safely in remission.” Amanda took a step back, afraid he would reach out to her. Afraid he would offer, even as a neighbor and a friend, to hold her while she cried.

  Well, she wasn’t about to cry, and she refused to lean on any man. Not so easily again.

  “What are her treatment options?”

  “The one thing that has a good chance of curing her is a bone marrow transplant, but we don’t have a donor.”

  “I thought siblings usually were matches. Isn’t Jeremy?” He paused as she shook her head. “You?”

  She turned away in silence. “Not in the national registry, either. We don’t know about her father. He could be a match. Maybe not. Who knows? He took off early in her illness. Ed has a friend who’s a private eye, but he hasn’t found Todd yet. So here we are, taking one day at a time and trying to make it the best day we can.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “You can pray.”

  Colt watched, helpless, as she managed a determined smile, strolled into the front room and, as if her heart was whole and filled with hope, called everyone to the table.

  When he’d been stringing lights on the tree, he tried to remember the last time he’d been as content and relaxed. Couldn’t do it.

  And now, in the space of minutes, he couldn’t rightly breathe for the absolute sorrow gathering inside him.

  “Which color do you want to put on next?” Amanda waited, holding her child tight, never wanting to let go. She had Jessie choose from the nearly empty boxes of ornaments set open on the living room side of the kitchen counter.

  “Purple.”

  “Okay. Purple it is.” She snagged a plastic green hook from the container tucked between the boxes, hooked it through the last purple ball and gave a tug. Nothing. The ball was good and wedged in its formfitting plastic holder. Oops, she needed two hands.

  “Allow me, ladies.” Colt brushed behind her, as solid as an iron tower. But it was his kindness that she noticed—couldn’t stop noticing—as he pulled the ball free.

  Her spirit stirred when his fingers covered hers. Of course she liked this very masculine, very capable and thoughtful guy. Who wouldn’t? But when his hand remained on hers a few long beats, she didn’t know what to think. When he pulled away, sweetness welled up through her soul.

  “Let’s put this on the tree, baby.” Trying to act unaffected, she carried her daughter to the bright corner, where the well-appointed Christmas tree blinked and sparkled.

  “Where do you want to put it?”

  Jessie pointed, and Amanda slipped the hook over the tip of the designated spot.

  “Tinsel, Jess!” Jeremy tossed another handful ceilingward, and it sparkled as it fluttered down, snowing over them all.

  Jessie held out her little hand and caught a gleaming strip like a falling star. It glowed purple and yellow and pink, reflecting the closest tree lights. For one moment, there was simply joy.

  Amanda pressed a kiss to her daughter’s temple. There wasn’t enough time to pack all the joy into the time ticking away. Not enough sweet kisses. Not enough hugs. Not enough anything.

  A hundred prayers whispered from her soul. Prayers for a change in the progression of Jessie’s illness. For another remission. For a donor. Those prayers remained silent, held deep in her heart.

  Don’t look ahead, Amanda. Don’t expect the worst, or the best. Just hold on to this moment.

  Jessie tossed the tinsel. It lifted upward like a perfect prayer and landed with a swish on an upper tree branch, colorful and bright.

  “Look how pretty,” Amanda praised. “Good job, baby.”

  Aunt Vi hurried out from the kitchen with a tray of gingerbread cookies and warm cinnamon apple tea and cocoa.

  Ed held up the last ornament. “What should I do with this one, missy?”

  Jessie pondered the situation carefully and pointed.

  “Ain’t that the perfect spot,” Ed complimented, as he slid the sparkling pink ball onto the last available branch.

  Jeremy dropped a handful of tinsel on top of it for good measure.

  Colt could clearly see the shadows in Amanda’s deep, still eyes. He could see her breaking heart as surely as the dense night shadows crept through the room.

  He could also sense her gladness. Her words came to him like a prayer’s answer. So here we are, taking one day at a time and trying to make it the best day we can.

  Something more powerful than tenderness filled him up, making it impossible to breathe or blink or move. It felt as if the floor shifted beneath his feet. His gaze found her on the other side of the tree, framed by the jewel-rich tones of the lights, the soft green boughs and his heart. He felt changed. He didn’t know why now or why this woman. Only that it felt like the Lord’s leading.

  And his soul finding its match.

  “Look,” she said, speaking to her daughter, but her gaze held his. “Colt has the tree topper. Maybe he’ll put it on for us.”

  Colt looked at it, trying to figure out how to go on normally from here. Everything felt changed—in a single moment—and time continued on, everything looking the same as it had been: the expectant faces of Amanda and her family, the crackle and pop of the fire in the stove, Jeremy’s energy as he grabbed hold of the chair back.

  Only Colt—his heart and soul—had changed.

  He felt wooden as he lifted the delicate glass ornament. It took a moment to slip it into place and clip in the electrical plug. Soft, pure white light shone down like grace. Colton took a step back, looking up at the fragile angel dressed in silver and gold, hovering above the tree like hope.

  In the radiant light, Amanda held her child, and he felt her prayers as if they were his own.

  Ed left with a friendly goodbye, and Colton figured he ought to do the same. Vi was spending the night, helping Amanda in the bedroom with the little girl. It was time to go, but he didn’t want to leave without saying good-night. He snared a gingerbread man from the platter on the table.

  “Colt?” Jeremy gazed up at him, errant pieces of tinsel shining in his tousled hair. “Know what?”

  “What, buddy?”

  “I gotta ask you somethin’.”

  “It’s real important, I can see that.” He pulled a chair from the kitchen table. “Shoot.”

  “Okay, I, uh—” Jeremy fidgeted from one foot to the other, worry lines digging into his forehead. “I gotta know. Uncle Ed says that Santa Claus is specular.”

  Whatever he’d been expecting the kid to ask, this hadn’t been it. He wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t given Santa much thought in, oh, the last twenty-four years. “Do you mean secular?”

  “Is that real bad? ’Cuz he gives stuff to kids, like Jessie and she’s sick. And that’s being good. He’s like a superhero, right? ’Cuz he can fly the whole world in a single night.”

  “Those are some pretty serious questions.”

  “Yeah.” Burdened, Jeremy plopped down on the chair next to him and propped his chin in his hands. “I kinda figured you’d know.”

  “Why? You got a letter to send him or something?”

  Jeremy bit his bottom lip and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, apparently thinking real hard. Apparently not knowing what to ask, or how to say it.

  Colton sensed her before he saw her, padding from the shadowed hallway and
into the light. She looked lovely in a pink fuzzy sweater and jeans. Her mom’s cross hung at her throat and glinted like a sign.

  He wasn’t sure if she felt what he did. He couldn’t tell it by any change in her expression. She stopped short, though, keeping a fair distance between them. There was only friendliness and warmth in her voice. “Colt. You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye to me, were you?”

  “No way. I was just gnawing on a cookie and discussing important matters with Jeremy.”

  “So I see.” She looked luminous in the soft light. “I hate to interrupt man talk, but Jeremy, your bath is ready.”

  “Aw.” Jeremy snapped his fingers. “Mom, me and Colt’re talkin’.”

  “You can talk to him another time. Say good-night and scoot.”

  “Oh, okaaay. ’Night, Colt.”

  “’Night, buddy.”

  He took off in leaps and bounds through the room and into the hallway. A door bumped shut.

  “Nice kids you got.”

  “Thanks, I think so, too. They’re the best things that ever happened to me.”

  Yeah, he could see that. “I had a real nice time. Thanks for letting me drop in.”

  “Anytime. Thanks for bringing supper.”

  “My pleasure.” He rose out of the chair to tower over her, and the atmosphere changed, like the snap of electricity in a lightning storm.

  That sweet longing she’d felt earlier returned, rushing into life out of nothing at all, so strong and bright it blotted out her pain and fears. She cared for him; she couldn’t help it. She liked Colt. She liked him very much.

  As a neighbor. As a friend. There could be nothing else between them. She took a step away, her background thoughts remaining on the child in her bedroom. Vi was with her and was reading her to sleep. There was no other place Amanda wanted to be than to be watching over her daughter. And yet, she felt an unexplained need to talk to Colt a little longer. To be in his presence.

  To again feel the peace his touch had brought to her.

  Goodbye was on her lips, but Jeremy’s muffled voice from the bathroom stopped her; he was singing the theme song of his favorite superhero. “He’s in a Wonder Boy phase. I’m not sure how long it’s going to last.”

  “I’ve still got mine, from when I was a kid.”

  “I guess we all need heroes in our lives.”

  “Yes, we do.” His gaze went dark, inscrutable, as he reached out to smooth a stray lock of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

  A tender gesture. One that tugged at the wishes locked deep within her. Amanda squeezed her eyes shut, gathering all her willpower to take one step back. “Good night, then.”

  He left in silence. There was a muted click of the back door, and she was alone in the kitchen, the scent of his aftershave a reminder of his presence. The sting of lost dreams lingering in the shadows.

  “M-mom?”

  The thin frightened voice of her son wobbled in the dark.

  Amanda startled, straightening up in the chair by her daughter’s bed. Thankful for the shadows that hid the way she swiped tears from her eyes.

  The luminous green numbers on the bedside clock showed it was after three in the morning. Taking care not to wake Jessie, who’d finally fallen back asleep, she rose and padded into the hallway. A night-light shone at the baseboard, casting just enough of a glow to see by.

  “Are you cryin’?”

  Best not to answer that. “Wh-hat are you doing up, young man? You should be sound asleep.”

  Stocking feet padded closer into the faint glow from the night-light, enough to see the worry dug deep into his forehead. “I—I was gonna check on Jessie.”

  “You don’t have to worry, I’m watching over her. Vi’s here, too.”

  “I know.” So much heartache in his voice as he wrung his hands. “Is she gonna have to go to the hospital again?”

  “It looks like it. We’ll keep her here as long as we can.”

  “I’m Wonder Boy. I’m gonna burn up all the cancer with my laser vision.”

  “If only it were that easy, baby.” She pulled him into her arms, treasuring the sweetness of this good boy she’d been given. “Now, back to bed. Wonder Boy needs his sleep so he can fight doom tomorrow.”

  “Okay, ’cuz I’m gonna fix it. Mom, you like Colt a lot, right?”

  Sure, she saw what Jeremy was thinking. The boy missed his father. He also missed having a father. The last thing she wanted was for him to start hoping for the impossible. Colt was…fine. No doubt about that. But…well, there were too many buts. Too many reasons. “He’s a good neighbor, isn’t he?”

  “He knows lots about superheroes.”

  “You know he’ll be going back to California soon, where he lives full-time. He just visits here a few weeks a year.”

  “I know, Mom, but he’s super.”

  Yeah, no argument there. If things were different, it would be simple to care more for him. In a way that went beyond neighborliness.

  But her life wasn’t different. “You’re still not in bed, mister.”

  “Yeah, I know, but…” He bit his lip, thinking hard. “I’m gonna ask for help.”

  “Good plan. Praying is always a good thing when you need a miracle as much as we do.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  She leaned through the doorway to check on Jessie, still sound asleep, before following her son into his room. He jumped into bed and threw himself under the covers. How he had so much energy at this time of night was a complete mystery.

  “Sleep tight.” She bent to kiss his brow, so grateful for him and Jessie. No matter how tough things had been or would get, she wouldn’t trade them for anything.

  Maybe that was life, always a balance, always the love and the loss, the light and the dark, the sweet and the bitter. But the one thing she knew for sure was that it was a privilege to be here. A privilege to care for her children, for better or worse.

  She heard Jeremy muttering a prayer as she closed his door. And went back to Jessie’s room, to check on her, but Vi was there, too, watching over her.

  Please, don’t take her from me. She felt lost and alone. The wind gusted with despair at the eaves, making the night shadows seem darker as she made her way down the hall. The tree lights were still on, although the rest of the room was dark. The angel shone as bright as a holy star, a steady light in the inexorable darkness.

  Amanda reached for the switch for the tree lights and paused, the angel hovering above. Maybe she’d leave it on for a while longer. She needed all the inspiration she could get.

  She felt for her mother’s cross, familiar and comforting enough to warm her heart. She knew the words etched on the back; so many times had she studied them, she could see the perfect image of those tiny, script letters.

  Even when she was drowning in unanswered prayers. Even when she was standing without hope, so alone she could feel the empty place within her where her faith used to be.

  She would still believe.

  Chapter Six

  Sunday morning dawned quietly behind medium gray clouds. Facing a wide picture window, Colton had a perfect view at his desk, over the top of his laptop.

  As he sipped his first cup of coffee, the frozen, solemn world began to change. The line of mountains and trees took shape and hue and stood in harsh, green-black relief against the leaden sky.

  By his second cup of coffee the snow that shrouded east to west, north and beyond had turned incandescent, radiating as if with its own light, like white foil on mountaintops and treetops and the long line of lawn sloping away from his house. Not a creature moved, or wind or breath or leaf; there was only complete, sacred peace.

  As he waited for his modem to connect, he noticed an odd blur in the woods along the edge of his property. Perhaps deer or elk or moose—the real estate agent had promised wildlife sightings.

  Except deer didn’t usually wear red, did they?

  Suspecting whoever was out there was not of the
wildlife variety and more likely a grade school kid he’d gotten to know, Colton left his coffee cup steaming and his laptop humming to take a closer look out the big bay window.

  Yep, he thought as he spotted a patch of red and gold through the lower boughs of a stand of cedars. Jeremy’s trademark colors. What was the kid up to? No way would Amanda let him wander around; Colt just couldn’t see that. She was a protective mom. Which meant the kid had sneaked out on his own.

  That couldn’t be good. And why was the boy messing around with the mailbox?

  Questions that needed answers. Colt grabbed his coat, found his boots in the foyer. The first breath of winter morning air was like inhaling dry ice. Every boot step along the snowy walk and down the driveway echoed like gunfire. “Jeremy?”

  Nothing. No sign of red and gold anywhere.

  Colt kept trudging. In the luminous snow around him, he noticed deer prints trailing toward the lake. Bird tracks on the top rung of the rail fencing. And little boy boot marks marching right up to the mailbox, then circling back and leading off into the thick stand of cedars at the edge of his property.

  “Jeremy?”

  The mailbox flag was standing at attention. What was up with that? Feeling watched, he yanked open the lid. Inside was a single envelope. “To Santa” was written in cherry-red crayon.

  A low branch among the stand of trees shivered, shedding snow.

  “Jeremy, I don’t know how to get this to Santa Claus. Maybe you should leave this at the town post office.”

  A face peered out between the evergreens. “Aren’t ya gonna read it?”

  “What for?” Kids. Who knew how they thought? Wait, maybe this was starting to make sense. “You saw me slip that money in the donation can. Is that it? Do you think I could afford to buy you some toys?”

  “No!” The kid raced into sight, snow and branches flying in his wake. “You gotta read the letter! I don’t want toys.”