A flame sparked to life in my chest, radiating waves of warmth through the rest of my body. Even while battling inner demons in her own subdued way, this woman had thought of me. “I love you for doing this,” I whispered in her ear, reaching over her shoulder to grab the treats.
She got two glasses out of a cabinet and filled them with milk. We sat down at the table and indulged in a sweet, gooey midnight snack.
“Do you celebrate Christmas at all or is it just another day on the calendar?” I asked, licking a glob of caramel off my finger. Better to find out now, before I bought tickets to see The Nutcracker and made reservations for dinner at The Walnut Room inside Macy’s on State Street.
“You misunderstood me.” She took a bite of her miniature pie. “I’m not a Grinch. My issue is with the tree, not the holiday. I love wrapping presents and baking cookies.”
“I hate wrapping gifts, mainly because I suck at it, but love to eat cookies. Never met one I didn’t like. If you need a taste-tester, I’m your guy.”
“You were one of those kids who ate raw dough when your mother wasn’t looking, weren’t you?”
“Duh. Raw cookie dough is the bomb.”
“Note to self–whip up a batch of eggless dough so Ryan leaves the rest alone and doesn’t get salmonella,” she murmured, waving a wafer-thin apple slice around.
I leaned over and bit into it. “Stick it in the vegetable drawer. Otherwise, Neil will eat it and then I’ll have to kill him. And I’d prefer to not wind up in the slammer with a boyfriend named Bubba.”
She chuckled and popped the rest in her mouth. “As long as he has his own supply, Neil won’t touch yours.”
“Oh, good. So where do you put presents if there’s no tree?”
Collette shook her head, brows drawn together in exasperation. Ah crap, I’d pushed too hard and pissed her off. All I wanted was to understand the boundaries of her limitations, not alienate her for having them.
Holiday-induced depression was a real condition. I knew this for a fact because Gramps had dealt with it for several years after Gram passed away. He’d shown up to every single gathering, but kept to himself, quietly drinking his favorite orange-spiced tea at the kitchen table instead of watching a movie in the family room with everyone else.
He eventually reclaimed his spot in the rocking chair by the fireplace, bouncing a toddler on a knee while laughing hysterically at my cousins’ antics. Six years later, sadness still darkened his eyes whenever someone passed Gram’s corn soufflé around the table. But he took a hearty helping and complimented whoever had cooked it, remarking how Gram would be happy to see her signature side dish still being shared by her loved ones.
“We always have a huge tree. I just don’t…God, this is going to sound really weird, but I don’t have anything to do with it. Last year, Les and Neil drove to the farm and cut one down. I left the house and let them do all the decorating. Got the majority of my shopping done in one afternoon. If it’s important to you, I can stay home and hang a few ornaments this year.”
My fork froze in midair. Collette’s offer to willingly put herself in an uncomfortable situation for my benefit astounded me. “You don’t have to do that. I’d be happy to keep you company and carry your bags if you want to go shopping again.”
“No.” She sat up straight, lifting her chin in determination. “It’s our first Christmas together, and I don’t want to be a spoilsport. Maybe enough time has passed, and it won’t upset me as much. I can’t let the past get in the way of making new memories. I have to at least try to move on.”
Setting my utensil down, I reached over and took her hands in mine. “Whatever you’re capable of is fine with me. We’ll figure it out when the time comes, okay?”
“Okay.” Her posture relaxed as I kissed her knuckles, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Oh,” she gasped, leaning sideways to look around me. “It’s flurrying.”
Twisting around in my seat, I grinned as fat snowflakes lazily drifted to the ground outside. The first snowfall of the season still made me giddy, eager to break out my snow pants and saucer sled. “The forecast showed a slim chance of a light dusting, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.”
“I love snow. My dad and I used to build life-sized igloos. He would empty the trash cans in the bathrooms so we could pack them full of snow to make the bricks. A bunch of the kids in our neighborhood came over to play Eskimos until it melted.”
The wistful look on her face pulled at my heartstrings. And caused an idea to form in my mind. One that involved the empty side lot next to the community center, a trip to Target’s home goods section, and a horde of children. I’d been racking my brain to come up with an event for the foundation to sponsor. A day full of activities like sled races and a snowman-building contest would be fun for kids of all ages, including the adults who were still kids at heart. We could serve hot drinks and warm snacks inside the building. I’d have to hash out the details and type up a proposal this week.
After pressing another kiss to her delicate knuckles, I got up and dashed to the coat closet by the front door. Setting our shoes on the floor, I stuffed my feet into mine and pulled on my jacket. “Get dressed. It’s chilly out there.”
She scraped her plate with the back of her fork, licking bits of crust and caramel off the tines. “If your crazy butt wants to go for a jog, be my guest. I’d rather not get hypothermia.”
Sliding her chair away from the table, I knelt and grabbed her right foot. “I’ll keep you warm. No running involved, I promise.”
Once she was ready, I flipped the lock on the sliding door and motioned for her to step out onto the patio. Taking her by the hand, I led her down the steps and walked to the middle of the backyard. She freed herself from my grasp and tipped back her head while pulling on her gloves. “Whoa.” A slender arm shot out to steady herself. “It’s like looking at an optical illusion for too long. Makes me dizzy.”
I stepped in front of her and settled my hands on her hips, looking up at the cascade of falling flakes. “I’ve got you.” Swaying from side to side, I guided her into a slow dance. Even though I couldn’t sing well, I serenaded her with “Winter Wonderland,” humming the melody when I forgot the words to the last verse.
Her dark gaze shifted from the sky to me. Tiny crystals clinging to her hair and eyelashes sparkled like diamonds whenever they caught a beam of light from the fixture next to the patio door. I stared at her, completely enthralled by her beauty as we moved in a slow circle. “What is this look?” she asked, gently tapping the tip of my nose. “I’ve never seen it before.”
A lump wedged itself in my throat. This was one of those poignant moments I’d never forget, even if I lived to be a hundred years old. I filed it in the first slot in my memory bank, where it would stay until I put one of the antique rings I had been looking at on my laptop on Collette’s perfect little finger. It would be a while before that happened, but I knew deep down it was inevitable. Buying it now would ensure having it on hand for when I was ready.
Too caught up in emotion to be articulate, I lowered her into a dip. As she straightened, my eyes caught movement on the second floor as the curtains parted on the master bedroom windows. My mother’s smiling face appeared for a moment between the panels. She waved once and vanished before Collette was upright.
“I love you.” Resuming our slow shuffle, I kissed her as snowflakes continued peppering us.
25
Collette
Two years earlier
“A bit more to the left,” Henri instructed, fidgeting with the tubing of her nasal cannula. “No, your other left.” She chuckled as Neil smiled sheepishly and hung the clay gingerbread man ornament on an empty branch. “Perfect.”
“What do you want on top, Mom?” Les asked. “Star or…” he trailed off, holding a ceramic angel in his hand. His Adam’s apple bobbed on a hard swallow. “Which one?”
I willed myself not to cry as Henri told him to use both tree toppers. Liftin
g a silvery blown-glass icicle from a bed of tissue paper, I held it up for her to see. “Where would you like this?”
Her blue eyes shifted from her son to me, crinkling around the corners when she saw the delicate decoration. “This one was my father’s favorite in the set. There used to be a dozen of them, but someone,” she paused and gave Les a pointed look, “crawled under the tree on Christmas Eve to hide so he could sneak a peek at Santa when the big guy showed up. Foiled his own plan when he fell asleep. And scared the daylights out of me when his bed was empty, and he was nowhere to be found the next morning. I ran around in hysterics for ten minutes, calling his name and checking all of the spots he liked to use when we played Hide and Seek. When I finally got to the living room, boy wonder here sat up, and it was timberrr. By some miracle, I managed to salvage five from the wreckage.”
“And the bad little boy found a lump of coal in his stocking the following year.” Neil snickered when Les mouthed an obscenity over the angel’s head. “Santa is still watching you. Adults get reindeer pellets.”
I laid the slim glass spindle in Neil’s hand and settled next to her on the narrow hospital bed. “How do you feel about letting me make your scarf more festive?” Grabbing a small bag from the bedside table, I pulled out a handful of colorful enamel pins and lined them up in a row on the white blanket.
“Have at it.” She gestured at the length of cream-colored silk artfully wrapped around her head. “Noreen asked if you would mind stopping by to show her daughter a few of your tricks before you leave.”
I’d become quite the expert at knotting and twisting Henri’s head wraps into intricate designs, thanks to YouTube tutorials. And also Neil, who patiently allowed me to practice on him before taking my skills public. He never complained. Not even when Les came home drunk and told him he looked like the Sultan of Virginabia.
Les paid dearly for that comment the next morning when he listened to the message I had left on his cell phone as he slept off his bender, pretending to be a girl he had hooked up with several months ago who called to inform him of her newly diagnosed rip-roaring, raging case of herpes. He ransacked the kitchen looking for a magnifying glass, frantically scratching his junk through his boxers. When I casually asked him what was wrong, he told me he needed to see if his dick was okay.
Neil sprayed the gulp of coffee he had taken clear across the room and laughed until his stomach ached.
“I’ll just add her to my rotation.” Word had traveled quickly through the oncology ward after other female patients noticed my handiwork at a group therapy session. I stopped by every morning and went from one room to another, chatting for a few minutes while giving them a reason to smile when they saw their reflections.
“Thank you, sweet girl.” Henri gave my hand a feeble squeeze, hers alarmingly cool despite the multiple layers of clothing and blankets draped over her frail body. I knew from all the reading I’d done that this was a sign of her circulatory system slowing down.
Her doctor had given us a window of anywhere from two weeks to a month during a meeting two days ago. Refusing to spend the rest of what little time she had left wallowing in gloom and doom, Henri had made a request after dinner that evening to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas while she was still lucid.
Les, Neil, and I had driven home in silence, too shocked and devastated to hold any kind of conversation. We sat at the kitchen table for almost an hour before Neil pulled a bottle of scotch out of the liquor cabinet and took the captain’s seat, divvying up tasks as we sipped our drinks.
Armed with a coil of rope and a saw, Les left the house at the crack of dawn the following morning to make the three-hour drive to the farm we went to every year in Michigan, calling the owner on the way to explain why he needed to cut down a tree in August. Neil braved hellish conditions in the attic to gather boxes of decorations, loading as many as he could fit into his car. And I lugged out the Kitchen Aid mixer to make the desserts and treats we ate on both holidays, consulting the pile of tattered, handwritten recipe cards which had been passed down through several generations of Henri’s family.
As I mixed and stirred up a storm, Neil went to the grocery store and bought all the supplies for a traditional turkey dinner. He peeled potatoes, yams, and carrots while I stuffed the bird. By the time Les returned with a six-foot Blue Spruce, the refrigerator had looked like a Tetris grid composed of Tupperware containers stacked on all the shelves. All we had to do was pop them in a microwave at the hospital. After inhaling Chinese takeout, the three of us had collapsed on the couch in the family room, exhausted from hours of prep work.
I attached a candy cane and a snowman to the side of Henri’s wrap and kissed her on the cheek, sliding off the thin mattress. Prying the lid off a tin patterned with Santa hats, I dug out an almond crescent and shook off the excess powdered sugar. “Feel up to trying one of these?”
Henri licked her cracked, dry lips. “Ohhh, you made my favorite kind.”
“But of course.” Rolling the tray table over, I broke the cookie into pieces and watched her face light up as she slowly chewed the first one.
Les ambled over and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Told you they tasted the same,” he whispered as his mother placed another bite in her mouth.
“Are there any pecan tassies?” Neil plunked down next to Henri and lifted layers of wax paper in search of his beloved tiny pecan pies. “Aha! Get in my belly.” He crammed it into his mouth and rubbed his stomach.
“Don’t spoil your appetite for dinner,” Henri playfully scolded, brushing his hand away when he reached for another. “In fact, I think we should light the tree and eat.”
All three of us stopped what we were doing. Hope took flight and soared through my veins because Henri was hungry for the first time in weeks. Maybe months. Chemo had done a number on her taste buds, rendering almost everything she ate bland.
Les recovered first and grabbed Neil by the collar, pulling him toward the door. “We’ll go heat up the food.”
Henri flicked crumbs off of her shirt and pushed the table away. “Come lay with me.” She lifted the blankets as I slid off my sandals. Icy fingertips tucked a lock of hair behind my ear as I pulled the covers up. “How are you doing?”
“I’m…” I paused, trying to wrangle my scattered thoughts. Part of me wanted to be honest and tell her how sad I felt, how much seeing her this weak and defeated destroyed me. But I just couldn’t bring myself to hit her when she was already down. Yet I also couldn’t lie to her. “I’m hanging in there.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” She laid a cool palm on my cheek. “You look tired. Did you get any sleep last night or were you up cooking?”
“No, no. I went to bed around midnight and conked out the second my head hit the pillow.”
“Good.” She reached for the remote next to her hip and pressed the button to elevate our feet. “This is nice. Reminds me all of the girl talks we’ve had over the years.” Her hand found mine under the covers. “I’m so glad you came to live with me. I never realized how much I was missing out on by only taking in boys until you came along.”
I didn’t bother with trying to stop the tears from coming. Nothing would have worked anyhow, so I let them flow down my cheeks and form a wet spot on the pillow.
“Oh, sweetie. You and I are just like my mother and me. You cry, I cry.” She tugged a tissue from the box on the tray table and dabbed at the area under my eyes before doing the same to hers. “I knew you were special the second I laid eyes on you. Even though you were hurting, you made an effort to be a part of my family. Your courage brought Neil out of his depression and triggered the fiercely protective gene in Les.”
“Thank you,” I choked out. “Thank you for taking a chance on me.”
We cried together until neither of us had any tears left. I went in the tiny bathroom attached to the room to fix my face before the boys came back with dinner. Both of them were struggling with their own emotions over losing Henri, and I di
dn’t want to make them feel worse than they already did by ruining Thanksmas dinner with my blubbering.
Steam drifted up from our plates, and I drummed my hands on the windowsill as Neil popped the plug into an outlet. Strands of multicolored lights illuminated, casting a cheery glow on the dull walls and floor. I stared at the little bulbs, resenting how they’d had to flicker to life months ahead of time.
I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.
I wanted to tear the lights down and stomp the brightness out of them.
I wanted to hurl the ornaments at the wall, reducing them to nothing but a pile of shards.
And I wanted to break each branch off the tree, one by one until it looked as miserable as I felt.
This was wrong. All of it, including my desire to destroy the things making the guest of honor happy. We should have been at home, grilling burgers and watching a baseball game. Not eating turkey and definitely not having a tree lighting ceremony in a hospital room.
Pasting a smile on my face for Henri’s benefit, I tamped down those destructive urges. I sang carols with the others, even though I would rather have run out of the room, down the stairs, and through the front doors, putting as much distance between Chicago Grace and me as possible before my legs gave out. But again, I resisted.
We pulled chairs up to the bed and used it as a table. I forced myself to eat and did not enjoy a single bite of food. Henri barely put a dent in her meal, only consuming a slice of turkey and a scoop of mashed potatoes. Les and Neil cleaned their plates but didn’t get seconds like they usually did.
“Even though it isn’t really Thanksgiving, I feel incredibly thankful. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to plan this shindig in one day, but you guys did it. You gave me everything I asked for and then some.” Henri shakily lifted her glass of cranberry ginger ale. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have kids as wonderful as you.”
Neil’s face crumpled as the brave front he had hidden behind for the past two days collapsed under the weight of his sorrow.
More than Money (Found in Chicago Book 1) Page 20