A Magical Christmas

by Heather Graham

  “Jon, we made it before. It’s just scary—”

  “You trusted me tonight, right?” he asked her.

  “Yes, but—”

  “All right, so the ice broke,” he said ruefully. “But we got out of it together. You trusted me. Well, I’m going to trust you, too. You are a good realtor. I hate my job. I really hate it. I have to change it. What do you say?”

  She stared at him, blinking against the water. “Do you really think that I can make my half of a living?”

  “Assistant D.A.’s aren’t paid all that badly, and I think that you can make a hell of a living. Julie, things were wrong between us because of what I did. They were also wrong because we lost each other. When we first fell in love, it was you and me against the world. I was your best friend, not your worst enemy. We let life get in the way of living. If you still love me, Julie, let’s try to go back and remember that life is supposed to be about people, children, laughing, getting along—love! It’s not about the traffic on U.S. 1, candy sales, the Bobo Vinzettis of the world, or the rat race in any way. Julie…”

  He couldn’t tell if she was crying, or if it was just the spill of water on them both. But she was suddenly in his arms, her face buried against his chest, and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

  “I’ve been a horrible mother,” she said.

  “You’ve been a busy mother, Julie. That’s all.”

  “An awful wife.”

  “The best wife in the world.”

  Julie looked up at him. Her heart did a strange little skid and slam, like it hadn’t done since she had first met Jon. He was looking at her, too. Gazing down at her in a way that made her tremble. That look was in his eyes. That look she had envied so much when she had seen Jesse Wainscott’s eyes light up when she had mentioned his wife, Clarissa.

  She had wanted warmth for Christmas.

  She’d been given much more.

  They’d missed quite a bit of the party, but it didn’t seem to matter. Once they were dressed in their borrowed finery and came back downstairs, the ball was back in full swing, the fiddles playing madly and folks milling about and dancing and talking. The house was ablaze with light and laughter. Clarissa remained on Jesse Wainscott’s arm throughout the night, dancing with her husband, talking with him—enjoying her guests, but never leaving her husband’s side. Seeing Jon and Julie, Clarissa and Jesse drew them into the party, where their children already seemed to be quite at home. Christie danced the night away with Aaron Wainscott, who politely shared her with some of the other young men, but only on occasion. The Wainscotts’ young daughter was there as well. Julie met her when she paused to pour a cupful of punch for herself. “Hello,” the girl said gravely.

  Julie had a strange feeling she’d seen the child before.

  “Hello,” the youngster said again.

  “Hello.”

  “I’m Mary. Mary Wainscott.”

  “Mary. How nice to meet you.”

  “I’m the daughter,” Mary said.

  “How nice. Of course—that’s why you look so familiar.”

  “You’ve seen my painting, maybe.”

  “Oh, of course, that painting is of you, all dressed up in traditional Christmas finery!” Julie said, smiling. “You look like your mom.”

  She nodded.

  “Where have you been?” Julie asked her politely. “We’ve missed seeing you.”

  “Oh, I spend time with relatives,” she said vaguely. “But I’m always home by Christmas Eve.”

  “That’s wonderful. It’s always good to be home for Christmas.”

  “You’re not home.”

  “Yes, but—” Julie said, then paused and smiled. “You’re home with your family, Mary. I’m with my family. And we’re all together, so… well, I guess wherever they are, I’m home. Does that make any sense?”

  Mary nodded quite gravely. “Indeed. Excuse me, please. I see a friend I’d like to introduce to Ashley.”

  There was a young teenager standing just inside the door to the foyer. He was splendidly costumed as a Confederate drummer boy. Julie smiled, glad to see that the Wainscotts had young friends to dress up and visit for their children as well.

  “Mrs. Radcliff!”

  She swung around. Aaron Wainscott was at her side, bowing to her politely. Christie remained on his arm.

  “I was going to dance with Dad,” Christie said. “And I thought maybe—”

  “Aaron, you do not have to dance with me,” Julie said.

  “Madam, the pleasure would be mine,” he assured her.

  It was a wonderful Christmas Eve. She was swept around the floor by the handsome young man in Union blue while she watched with pride as her daughter danced with Jon. Ashley was even whirling around the room with the very polite drummer boy. And Jordan…

  Jordan was having a wonderful time. He was surrounded by three very lovely young ladies who giggled at his every word.

  “Have you enjoyed your stay?” Aaron asked her.

  Julie smiled. “I could never tell you how much,” she told him quietly.

  “I’m glad. Your daughter is very special.”

  “Thank you. She’s… she’s got a boyfriend, you know.”

  “Of course. She’s told me all about him. She has a good head on her shoulders, Mrs. Radcliff. You and your husband have taught her well. She looks into the hearts of people; she doesn’t prejudge them.”

  Watching him, Julie felt a flush rising to her cheeks. Why hadn’t she and Jon ever looked, really looked, at the boy their daughter loved?

  The music stopped. “Thank you,” Julie told Aaron.

  “You are very welcome, Mrs. Radcliff. I truly enjoyed the dance.”

  “No. I meant thank you for a lot more.”

  Aaron nodded, kissed her hand, and deserted her to find Christie. Julie saw her husband coming for her, and smiled. The next dance was a slow ballad. Jon drew her against him.

  “Jon?”

  “Hmm?”

  “When we go home, we have to have Jamie over for dinner.”

  “Mmm,” he agreed.

  He was moving her in a particular direction, Julie realized.

  They were underneath the mistletoe.

  He kissed her.

  And the fiddles played on, and countless couples whirled around and around them, and the sands of this Christmas Eve trickled through the hourglass of time.

  In the wee hours of the morning, the guests were at last gone, and the Radcliffs were in bed.

  Ashley awoke suddenly. Christie was sleeping at her side. Ashley slipped out of bed. Quietly, she opened the door to Jordan’s room.

  Jordan was sound asleep. Still smiling. He’d never had so many pretty girls to flirt with in his whole life. Ashley, feeling like a very mature six, shook her head and tiptoed to the door to her parents’ room. She cracked open the door. Mommy and Daddy were sleeping, too. All curled up together. They looked very warm and snuggly, and Ashley was so happy she had to sniff back a tear. Somehow, things were right now.

  She wasn’t ready to go back to sleep. She went out to the hallway and sat down on the top stair.

  As she sat there, she suddenly saw Mr. and Mrs. Wainscott. She was about to call out to them, but something stopped her.

  Maybe it was the way they were looking at one another. Mrs. Wainscott seemed to move very, very gracefully to her husband, almost as if she floated on clouds. He took her in his arms. Very, very tenderly.

  Ashley was embarrassed. She shouldn’t have been watching. She was about to leap up and hurry away, but then she paused.

  Aaron Wainscott entered the foyer from the left side of the house. He paused by the doorway, watching his parents.

  Ashley looked to the right side. Mary was standing there as well, looking at her brother.

  Aaron walked across the foyer and took his younger sister’s hand.

  They walked to their parents. They all put their arms around each other and hugged very tight.

 
Then Ashley blinked.

  And they were gone. Not completely; something of them remained, but they seemed to fade away.

  Ashley saw that daylight was just starting to break.

  She was surprised to realize that she wasn’t afraid at all. She stood up and went racing downstairs and into the drawing room.

  Just as she had expected, they were all back in the paintings.

  She stared at them. More and more daylight crept into the room.

  She turned, racing up the stairs. It was time to wake Mommy and Daddy. They’d open presents.

  They’d wonder where the Wainscotts were, but they wouldn’t see them.

  When they had opened all their gifts and eaten breakfast, Mommy and Daddy would start wondering where to find a church. And because they couldn’t find the Wainscotts, they’d probably be completely confused, but they’d leave a check for their bill and head back to Washington, D.C.

  And Daddy would drag them through all the museums again, but that would be okay.

  They would probably never know.…

  Ashley stared at the paintings.

  “Good-bye. Merry Christmas!” she said softly.

  And she turned around to race upstairs. She wanted her own family now.

  Epilogue

  Christmastime One Year Later

  The car bumped along the road and Jon Radcliff swore softly, running his gloved hand over the windshield. He grimaced at Julie.

  “Finding the place sure hasn’t gotten any easier!” he muttered.

  “Well, it’s here. Somewhere. We will find it,” Julie told him. She turned around to look at the kids in the back.

  They had rented a minivan at National Airport this year. They’d had to, because Jamie Rodriguez was with them. Jordan and Ashley were in the bucket seats in the middle row; Christie and Jamie were all the way in back. All four kids were dozing now. It seemed that they had been driving for hours.

  Julie smiled, glad that they were all together.

  During the past year, Jon and Julie had both made a concentrated effort to get to know Jamie. The kid from the wrong side of the tracks had won himself a full scholarship to the University of Miami School of Education. Christie, naturally, enrolled there as well, and applied herself throughout the first semester with a drive and enthusiasm that had made both her parents proud.

  It had been a good year. Not, of course, without a few pitfalls, because that was life. Jon had left his moneymaking prestigious law firm and returned to work at the D.A.’s office. He remained overworked and harassed, but he was happily harassed. He was doing what he wanted to do, and his heart was in his work. He was also able to give Julie some more leeway and time, and Julie was thriving as a realtor. Sometimes they both still had to step back and breathe and look around and think about priorities, but for the most part, they were doing well.

  When they’d come home from last year’s holiday trip, Julie and Jon had both been shaken when Jordan had admitted to them that he’d had a drug problem. Christmas hadn’t changed everything; they’d both felt guilty as hell. But there hadn’t been any screaming, any accusations. They got Jordan into a drug-abuse program, and they both made a point of knowing what went on with their son, not just in his special program, but in his life in general. In October, one of Jordan’s best friends was in a car accident with an older cousin. Both kids had been high. One had walked away, one hadn’t; he was paralyzed from the waist down. That night, Jordan had called Julie to pick him up at the mall when he had said earlier that he was going to get a ride home. When she’d heard about the accident, she’d hurt desperately for the families involved, but she’d also been incredibly grateful herself. Then, looking at Jordan, she’d realized that her son had had the good sense to realize that his friends were in no shape to drive. He hadn’t been able to stop them, but neither had he been driven by any peer pressure into stepping into the car. She hadn’t said anything at all to Jordan; she’d just started to cry and they had hugged one another for a very long time.

  Ashley had involved both her mother and father in the Christmas Chocolate Torture, as Julie called it. Jon had managed to make quite a few sales at the D.A.’s office, so Ashley was a very happy little camper. But then, Julie quite frequently thought that Ashley was the one who might have really held them all together. She’d still been young enough to believe in magic, to accept the very strange as normal, and to believe that love was the strongest power in the world. Even the modern world, where commercialism ruled and the rat race had become the customary way of life.

  Then there was Cruddy-Disgusting-Joe.…

  “Hey!” Jon said suddenly, softly. “Talk to me, huh? Keep me sane in this darkness.”

  She smiled. “Talk about what?”

  “Your thoughts. A penny for them.”

  Her grin deepened. She hugged the small car pillow she had been holding to her chest. “I was thinking about our year since last Christmas.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “Specifically, at this moment, of Cruddy-Disgusting-Joe.”

  He arched a brow. Upon their return home last winter, Julie had dug around the house until she’d found two good blankets, a couple of warm flannel shirts, and some still good jeans Jon didn’t wear anymore. Then she’d gone out and bought gift certificates to some of the restaurants in the area of her work. She’d been nervous, and she’d made Jon come with her to give the things to a smelly old fellow, from one of the halfway houses, who wandered along the streets.

  “Well, honey, you didn’t really think that you could change the man into a rocket scientist with a few blankets and Big Macs, did you?”

  Julie shrugged. “I thought maybe he’d take a bath.”

  Jon laughed. “Okay, so he didn’t take a bath, and he wore out the things you gave him in a matter of weeks, as if he’d purposely rolled in mud and rocks with your donations on his back. He didn’t change. He’s apparently happy muddling along the streets on his own.”

  “I thought maybe he’d get a job,” Julie said regretfully.

  “Well, he did keep your car from getting stripped that day in August.”

  That was true. A gang of car strippers had run around her work area for a few months in summer, blazing a little trail of gutted cars. They’d come for Julie’s car, and Cruddy-Disgusting-Joe had let out such a holler that the police had been called. A week later, with Cruddy-Disgusting-Joe’s descriptions, the police caught the thieves.

  “You’re right. This year, he isn’t getting your cast-off clothing. I’m getting him a few new outfits to destroy straight from Macy’s,” Julie said. Jon, smiling, reached out and squeezed her hand.

  “Dad?” Christie called from the back in a sleepy voice.

  “Yeah, honey?”

  “Are we almost there?”

  “Sure. Yeah. Almost,” Jon called back. He glanced at Julie again. “Where is this place?”

  “It’s got to be here somewhere.”

  “We should have called.”

  “I couldn’t find the number. I didn’t see their advertisement this year.”

  “They must have booked up early.”

  “Yeah, maybe.… I was just planning on stopping by, to say thank you, I guess, but now we’re going to have tired, starving kids on our hands,” Jon said apologetically.

  “Well, if worse comes to worst, there’s that little Ma and Pa restaurant just off the highway. And once we’re at the highway, it isn’t an hour back to the hotel in Crystal City.”

  “Dad!” It was Jordan this time.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are we near a gas station?”

  “I don’t think so, but I have plenty of gas.”

  Jordan groaned.

  “Dad,” Christie said, giggling, “get serious. Jordan doesn’t care about gas, he has to go.”

  “Oh. Well, fine, there’s the snow,” Jon said.

  “Cool,” Jordan said with relief. As Jon pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road, Jordan leaned forward and grinned t
o his mother. “Can’t help it— I’m a Southern boy, Mom, from the land where the sun always shines. It’s neat to see the snow melt when you—”

  “I get the picture, Jordan,” Julie told him.

  Jordan nodded and slipped out of the van, walking toward a clump of trees on the right side of the road.

  “I guess I’ll go watch the snow melt, too,” Jon said, following his son out of the car.

  The cold air that came into the heated, enclosed van when the doors were opened felt good.

  “I’m going to stretch my legs for a minute, Mom, okay?” Christie asked.

  “Sure. Just be careful,” Julie told her. “Is Jamie—”

  Christie laughed. “Jamie was up studying every night before we came on this trip; he has to keep his average up so high. He’s sound asleep. Like Ashley. I should put the two of them together back here.”

  Christie crawled out of the car, stretching. The minivan was comfortable, but still a tight fit. And the night was beautiful. Very dark, except where it was illuminated by the minivan’s headlights. Snow lay on the ground in soft, clean white drifts. It crunched beneath her feet. The air was cold and crisp and felt good in her lungs.

  The lights reflected off an object in the woods to Christie’s right. An overgrown trail seemed to lead deep into a copse of trees. Not too deep. Curiously, Christie determined to explore.

  She shoved her hands into the pockets of her hooded parka and started walking. The light from the headlights faded somewhat, but she could still see easily enough. A little cry of delight escaped her as she realized that they were near the Wainscott home. The headlights had been reflecting on one of the snow-frosted headstones in the old family cemetery they had ridden to on horseback the Christmas before.

  Christie wasn’t at all afraid; she felt almost as if she had come across some well-known landmark or a very familiar trail. She walked into the copse, spinning around on the soft snow, smiling at the sculpted angels with their eyes cast toward the heavens.

  “Christie!”

  The voice startled her, and she spun around again. A smile lit up her features. “Aaron! Aaron Wainscott! Is that you?!” She ran toward him without a moment’s hesitation, hugging him like a long-lost brother, then drawing away. He was ready for the traditional Wainscott Christmas again, dressed in his Union cavalry gear, and she shook her head, smiling. “At it again, I see. You all are so very good at this!”