Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014

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Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014 Page 45

by Joyce Livingston, Gail Sattler, Joyce Livingston


  Aaron and DeeDee each kissed their parents, thanked them for a wonderful Christmas, and headed up the stairs to their rooms.

  “I—I think I’ll go to bed, too,” Sylvia said, as she gathered up her gifts. With a heavy heart, she climbed the stairs, leaving Randy to turn off the lights and check the doors, a job she had taken over in his absence.

  I have to forget my husband didn’t even give me a present. I can’t let him see me sulking like this. Maybe, since he’s spent the week with me, he simply didn’t have a chance to do any shopping. I have to stop feeling sorry for myself. Deciding a quick shower might lift her spirits, she gathered up her gown and slippers and moved into the bathroom. When she came back out fifteen minutes later, Randy was sitting on the side of the bed in his pajamas, reading the instructions for his new video camera.

  Sylvia pasted on her cheeriest smile as she sashayed across the room toward him. If Randy does leave, I want him to remember me smiling and looking radiant and more like the woman he married twenty-five years ago.

  He looked up with a broad smile, as if nothing whatsoever was wrong. “Hey, another new gown? I really like this one! Even better than the red one.”

  She twirled around, holding her hands out daintily like a ballerina, and ended up sitting on the bed beside him.

  “Oh, I like that perfume!”

  She lifted her head, offering her neck to him. He bent and took in an exaggerated whiff. “Zowie! Now that’s what I call a perfume!”

  She gave him a coy smile. “You bought it for me for Christmas two years ago.”

  “Do I have good taste, or what?”

  “Thanks for another wonderful day, Randy,” she said as she crawled onto the bed beside him, her fingers cupping his neck. “I think the kids had a good time tonight. I know I did.” She began to knead his muscles as he tilted his head to one side. “That was some present Buck and Shonna gave all of us. Can you believe we’re going to be grandparents?”

  “I always wondered what it would be like to hold my first grandchild in my arms. I guess we’ll find out in July.”

  She loved touching his skin, wafting in his manly scent, feeling his hot breath on her hands. She longed to leap into his lap and smother him with kisses, but if she did, she knew he’d probably run for the door, and she wouldn’t have that one last day with him, so she restrained herself.

  “There, does that feel better?” She scooted off the bed and bent to kiss his cheek. Suddenly, Randy grabbed her and pulled her to him, kissing her more passionately than he had done in years. Although surprised by his sudden action, she melted into his arms, fully participating in their kiss.

  “You are so beautiful,” Randy whispered in her ear as he held her close and nuzzled his face in her hair. “I’ve missed the closeness we used to share.” He kissed her again, holding her in his arms tighter than ever.

  “I’ve missed it, too,” she whimpered breathlessly against his lips.

  “This has been one of the best weeks of my life, Syl. I’ll never forget it.”

  She clung to him, wishing this moment could last forever, but just as quickly as he had pulled her to him, he pushed her away.

  “Hold me, Randy! Please! I love you!”

  “I—I can’t! Don’t you see? I’ll be leaving tomorrow night! Holding you and kissing you like this—well, it isn’t fair to either of us. Our marriage is over, Syl! It died a long time ago! What we’re having this week is make-believe.”

  She could not believe what she was hearing! She had been so sure God was answering prayer. “But, Randy, you said this was one of the most wonderful weeks of your life! We’ve had a great time together! We’re going to be grandparents!”

  “You don’t get it, do you, Syl? Just because we’ve both been bitten by the festivities and hoopla of Christmas doesn’t mean things won’t return to what they were before when we get back to normal. We’ve both been like Ken and Barbie this past week! On our best behavior. Working to please each other and avoiding having words. We’ve been blinded by the joys and frivolity of the Christmas season. Bright lights, candles, ornaments, music. What happens when Christmas is over and the lights and ornaments are put back in their cardboard boxes and returned to that drab attic? I can’t take that chance. It took me nearly two years to get up the courage to tell you how I really felt—how unhappy I’ve been. I can’t go through it again!”

  She wanted to slap him, scream, hit a door, something, anything to wake him up. “Can’t you see I love you, Randy? This hasn’t all been your fault. I see that now! However, we can both change. We can work out our problems and differences if we really want to do it. We can’t throw this marriage away like last week’s copy of your newspaper. Our marriage is a living and growing thing!”

  “A living thing that has been dying a slow death, Syl. It’s time for the burial.” He snatched up his pajamas and headed toward the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  Sylvia had never felt so hurt and rejected. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? How blind and stupid could she have been? With tears flowing, she climbed into bed and pulled the sheet over her head. She heard Randy come out of the bathroom, felt him crawl into bed, and heard the click of the lamp.

  Twenty-four hours. If I can’t convince Randy to stay by then, it’s all over. I promised I’d let him have the divorce, and I have to keep my word. Father God, are You listening, or are You forsaking me, too?

  “Syl?”

  She wanted to pretend she was asleep, but she could not. “Yes.”

  “Good night.”

  “Good night, Randy.”

  Sylvia lay awake until the red numbers on the clock showed 3:00 a.m. From the even rhythm of Randy’s breathing, she was sure he was asleep, though she herself had barely closed her eyes. She crawled carefully out of bed and padded gently down the stairs, mumbling to herself. “Someone has to put the stockings up and fill them with little gifts and candy. Since Santa isn’t real, I guess I’ll have to do it.”

  “Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.”

  Eleven

  December 25 dawned even more beautiful than any other day in the week they had been together. Although Sylvia was dead tired from lack of sleep, she jumped out of bed with a smile. This is your last chance, girl. Make the most of it!

  Randy turned over with a frown. “You’re chipper this morning.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? It’s Christmas morning, and my family will all be gathered around the table for breakfast.” She snapped her fingers, then yanked the cover off him. “Rise and shine, Grandpa!”

  He covered his face with his hands. “Grandpa? That term sounded nice last night, but this morning, just the mention of it makes me feel old.”

  She crossed the room and opened the blinds, letting the room fill with sunshine. “Not me! It makes me feel young. I can hardly wait for the patter of little feet in this house again.”

  He pulled himself to a sitting position and ran his fingers through his hair. “Are you forgetting dirty diapers?”

  “I don’t even mind those.” She poked him in the ribs with the tips of her finger. “Hustle, hustle! Buck and Shonna will be here soon. You don’t want them to see you in those hideous pajamas, do you?”

  He looked down at his pajamas. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “The colors are nice, but have you looked closely at the pattern?”

  He raised an arm and squinted at the sleeve. “No.”

  “Randy! Those yellow dots are little ducks!”

  “Ducks? I thought they were polka dots. Why didn’t you tell me? I was in such a hurry when I bought them, I guess I never really looked at them.”

  “No, I’m sorry to tell you, but those are not polka dots; those are ducks. Cute little yellow duckies.” She hurried to the door. “The kids will be here in ten minutes. If you don’t want them to tease you about your ducks, you’d better get dressed.”

  “Is that another new T-shirt?” he called afte
r her. “Looks good on you. I like purple!”

  She had to smile. “Yes,” she called back over her shoulder. “I bought it because I thought you’d like it!”

  By the time she had filled the coffeepot and put the rolls in the oven, the front door opened and Buck and Shonna came bustling in. Within seconds, DeeDee and Aaron came down the stairs, with Randy two steps behind them. “Well,” she said with a joy that overwhelmed her sorrow, “looks like the gang’s all here. Anyone want to check their stockings?”

  Buck, Shonna, DeeDee, Aaron, and even Randy, all made a mad dash to the family room, pulling their stockings from the fireplace and rummaging through their contents, pulling out the little wrapped gifts, whistles, paper hats, balloons, bubblegum, trinkets, and candy canes. Randy put on his paper hat, looped two candy canes over his ears, and paraded through the room loudly blowing his whistle while the whole family laughed hysterically. Buck soon joined him, followed by Shonna, DeeDee, and Aaron. Sylvia could stand it no longer, pulled on her hat, draped her candy canes over her ears, and stuck a whistle in her mouth, too. Following Randy’s lead, the little battalion made their way through the house, traipsing through nearly every room, until they were all too weak with laughter to keep it up any longer.

  “Now that we’ve made complete fools of ourselves,” Sylvia said, pulling the candy canes from her ears, “does anyone want breakfast?”

  The Benson family laughed their way through breakfast, enjoying the huge platter of homemade cinnamon rolls Sylvia had baked, along with juice, coffee, and the large slices of the country ham she’d put in a slow oven when she’d gotten up to fill the stockings.

  Buck and Shonna left at nine thirty to go to her parents’ house. At ten, DeeDee and Aaron kissed their parents goodbye and joined the group of eager skiers honking in their driveway. Sylvia cast a cautious glance at the clock. Fourteen hours to go.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Randy tugged on her hand. “Come on, Grandma. I’ll help you clean up the breakfast mess.”

  Putting on the best smile she could muster, she followed him into the kitchen and began gathering the dirty dishes and carrying them to the sink while he put things in the refrigerator. I’ve got to stop counting the hours!

  “You outdid yourself again. These cinnamon rolls are the best you’ve ever made.” He unwound a rounded section of the last roll on the plate, broke it off, and popped it into his mouth.

  “Thanks. I’m glad you enjoyed them.”

  “So, what’s the plan for today?” He slipped the empty plate into the dishwasher, then placed a hand on her wrist with a winning smile. “By the way, Merry Christmas.”

  She reached up and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Grandpa.” Why didn’t you get me a present, Randy? Am I that unimportant to you? Do you hate me that much? I’ll bet you got your little cutie a wonderful present! “And by the way, we’re staying home. All day.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Once the kitchen was cleaned up, Sylvia pulled a covered dish from the freezer and left it on the counter to thaw for lunch. Then the two of them headed for the family room. To her surprise, Randy plunked himself down on the sofa instead of moving to his recliner. She picked up the copy of the Dallas Times that Buck had brought in when he and Shonna had come for breakfast and sat down beside Randy. “I put on a fresh pot of coffee,” she said trying to sound casual as she pulled the oversized Christmas Day paper from its wrapper. She shuffled through the various sections, finally coming to the sports section, which she handed to Randy. As soon as his attention was focused on it, she quickly pulled out the “Dallas Life” section, bearing that spectacular picture of Chatalaine and her willowy figure and Cheshire cat smile, folded it, and placed it on the lamp table on her side of the sofa, face down. Compared to that woman, Sylvia felt dowdy, rumpled, and old. As soon as she had a chance, she planned on putting it in the trash container. No need for Randy to be reminded of his paramour on this, her final day with him.

  Randy scanned through the sports section, then placed it on the coffee table. “Not much sports news today.” He gazed at her for a moment, then cautiously slipped an arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. “I want you to know, Syl, how much I appreciate everything you’ve done to make this Christmas special for all of us. The kids, me.” He hesitated as he raised a dark brow. “I—I hope we can always remain friends—for our children’s sake.”

  Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, and she swallowed both her pride and a hasty reply. Hold your anger! You have less than thirteen hours left. Don’t blow it! Make every minute count. This may be your last chance to woo him back. Instead of snapping his head off, which was what she would have liked to do, she smiled up at him, cradling his freshly shaven cheek with her hand. “Can we put this conversation off until later? I don’t want to even think about it now.”

  He gave her a puzzled look, apparently caught off-guard by her unexpected response. “Ah—yeah—I just wanted to make sure you—”

  Deciding to make her move, since she really had nothing more to lose, she whirled about and climbed onto his lap and began to stroke his hair, her face mere inches from his. Though he eyed her suspiciously, he did not move. After giving him an adoring smile, she tenderly kissed first one eyelid, then the other. One cheek, then the other cheek. Slowly, she let her lips move to his mouth, his closeness playing havoc with her senses. “I love you, Randy. You may leave me, but you’ll never be able to forget me,” she murmured softly as her mouth sought his again. She nearly screamed out as his arms circled her, pulling her against him. Please, Randy, say you love me, too!

  When their kiss ended, she rested her forehead against his, her fingers twined about his neck. “Don’t do it, sweetheart, don’t leave me. We have so much for which to be thankful. Some of our best years are yet to come. Don’t let them get away from us.”

  As if her words suddenly brought him back to reality, back to his unshakable resolve, he pushed her away and turned his head. “Don’t, Syl, don’t do this!” Literally picking her up and setting her off his lap onto the sofa, he stood to his feet, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides.

  Tears of humiliation and hurt stung at her eyes as she struggled to meet his icy glare. “But, Randy—”

  “Is there any coffee left? I need a cup.”

  She drew a quick breath through chalky lips. Brushing her tears aside, she stood, her heart thundering, and hurried toward the kitchen. “I think we both could use a good, strong cup of coffee. I’ll get it.”

  Once in the kitchen, she worked frantically to pull herself together, dabbing at her eyes with a dish towel and mulling over what had just happened. Come on, Sylvia, get hold of yourself. Maybe you moved too fast, too aggressively; after all, that’s not your style. You probably frightened him. She gave a snort. And that Chatalaine woman wasn’t aggressive? If not, how did she manage to snare my husband away from me so easily and so quickly? She was probably all over him. Telling him how handsome he was. How smart. How successful—batting her baby blues at him. She filled their coffee mugs, lifted her chin, and moved back into the family room, determined to keep Randy from seeing how badly his words had hurt her. “Here ya go! Strong, just like you requested.”

  She watched as Randy took the cup and seated himself on the floor in front of the sofa, sticking his long legs out in front of him. “Mind if I sit down beside you?”

  “Of course not.”

  She sat down, crossing her legs at the ankles and took a long, slow sip of her coffee, hoping the tension between them was surmountable. Suddenly, she noticed a Christmas CD was playing. Randy must have turned it on while she was in the kitchen. “I love that CD.”

  He leaned back against the sofa and tilted his head as if listening to the song with rapt attention. “Folks should play Christmas carols all year. Seems a shame to play them only in December.”

  “I think I could sit here forever, watching the lights blin
k on the tree and listening to that music.” She made a nervous gesture to brush her hair away from her face.

  They sat silently until the CD finished playing, then picking up their empty mugs, Sylvia rose. “I—I guess I’d better get us some lunch.”

  “Need any help?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I’ll bring our trays in here.” Fifteen minutes later, she returned, handing Randy his tray as he moved up onto the sofa.

  “Umm, your barbecue ribs? I hoped that was what I smelled.”

  “And the mustard potato salad you always liked to go with the ribs.”

  She started the CD player again before sitting down with her tray in her lap, hoping the lovely Christmas music with its message of God’s love would calm their spirits. They ate in silence as the music played. When they finished eating, Sylvia carried the trays back into the kitchen.

  “Good lunch. Thanks. No special projects for this afternoon?”

  She caused a smile to dance at her lips. “Of course, I have a project! A relaxing one I think you’ll enjoy. On and off this past year, I’ve been working on our family scrapbooks, mounting many of those pictures we’ve been tossing into that big drawer all these years. I thought you might like to take a look at them.” She was pleased when he gave her an enthusiastic smile. After taking three scrapbooks from the shelf and placing them on the coffee table, she sat down by Randy and opened the one on top. “This first one starts the year we began dating. Look at this funny picture of the two of us on that parade float. Can you believe we ever agreed to wear those silly costumes?”

  He leaned in for a better look. “You were a real looker. No wonder I fell for you.”

  “Well, you were quite handsome yourself. All the girls thought so.”

  He flipped the page and pointed to a photo in the top corner. “I’d nearly forgotten about that old bicycle. I wonder what ever happened to it.”

  She leaned into him with a giggle. “Remember how you used to ride it backwards? I could never figure out how you did that.”

 

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