The Christmas Edition

by Robin Shope

  “Then you’ve come to the right place! Our metropolis of Turtle Creek is just teaming with single ladies,” Mike chided with a slap on his knee. “There must be at least five spinsters in a ten mile radius.”

  “Don’t you ever know when to stop talking?” Harold batted his paper at his son.

  Dinner was eaten quietly. The juicy chicken, buttery broccoli and salad took precedence over any conflict. Joe helped clean up the kitchen once the meal was finished.

  “Time for the fun part,” Margaret called clapping her hands together. “Let’s trim our Christmas tree.”

  Harold put on some Christmas music and started looking around for something. “Lucy what did you do with my hat?”

  “I left it back at the office.” She pouted. “Sorry.”

  “Auk! I’ll make due without it,” Harold complained as he began going through the Christmas boxes. One particular box troubled him. When he opened it, he frowned. Then he smiled as an idea crossed his brow. “Joe, it has always been a tradition in our family for me to untangle the lights.” Harold reached down into the oversized cardboard box and soon held a huge ball of cords with bulbs. “But this year, it’s my pleasure to give up this happiness and pass it along to you.”

  Joe scratched his head. “I’ll do my best, sir.” He sat on the floor and began straightening the cords from what seemed like miles of tangled string. When he finished, Joe strung the lights on the tree.

  “It’s time,” Margaret announced. With gentle care, she placed several mid-sized boxes on top of the coffee table. “Here is what we look forward to all year long—opening our special ornaments and remembering joyful times.”

  “What are special ornaments?”

  “Every Christmas, my parents purchase a new ornament for the tree that is reflective of something special from the past year,” Lucy explained to Joe. “Mike and I share this family tradition by doing the same thing, now that we are older.”

  “Someday Lucy and Mike will decide to settle down and leave our house. They’ll take their memories with them into their new life,” Harold further explained, “in the form of the ornaments they have collected all these years.”

  “That’s a very nice tradition.” Joe nodded.

  The Collins family sat in a circle with Joe at Lucy’s side. One by one, each of them gingerly removed the tissue paper revealing glass ornaments.

  “This one is from Harold and I’s first Christmas together.” Margaret smiled broadly and held up the couple ice-skating with their arms around one another. Everyone smiled enjoying the moment. Although Lucy had heard this same story for the last twenty-six years, it remained a highlight of each Christmas.

  Margaret hung the ornament on the tree. “I think we have traveled through our marriage like this, holding one another up, staying close and occasionally slipping on slick ice.”

  “I’ve always loved that one but this one is my favorite.” Lucy’s fingers slid across the glass house with a red roof as she hung her ornament on the tree.

  Joe looked into one of the packing boxes. Inside was a smaller box. A gold one. He reached for it, removed the lid and set it to the side. Joe took out a glass heart the size of a small hand with the words ‘I will always love you’ printed across the front. “Hey, what’s the story behind this ornament?”

  Immediately, Lucy’s mood changed and she recoiled from him. “Put it back,” Lucy spoke sharply.

  Margaret stepped in between the boxes and took the heart from Joe’s hand. She handled it roughly, not at all like the others. She returned it to the box without rewrapping it. It hit the bottom with a plunk. Lucy wouldn’t have cared if it broke.

  “Forgive me. I feel I’ve done something wrong.”

  “No you haven’t. It’s all right, really it is, Joe.” The memory burned and Lucy did her best to push it aside. She forced a smile as the family returned to decorating.

  When the story telling was over, over a hundred ornaments covered the branches.

  “This old man is tired. It’s way past my bedtime so I shall say goodnight to all.” Harold wrapped one arm around his wife’s waist and walked her down the hall toward their bedroom, singing Deck the Halls . Mike said his goodnight and ran up the stairs two at a time.

  Lucy looked across the room at Joe. An awkward silence grew between them as the room emptied. Maybe she should go on up to bed and let Joe get his sleep, but she wanted a bit of alone time with him first. Besides she wasn’t sleepy. Not a bit.

  “Time for hot chocolate.” Lucy announced as she went to the kitchen. From a cupboard, she took out a pan and set it on a burner. Then she went through another cupboard gathering two kinds of chocolate squares and a bag of brown sugar. Next out was the milk from the refrigerator. She lined up her ingredients on the counter. “I love the winter months when I have an excuse to drink all the hot chocolate I want, like right now. I have been dreaming about this moment the entire day. Can I make you some, too?”

  Joe swiveled his chair around and looked across the room at Lucy. “Oh, please don’t bother on my account.”

  “No, bother. I’m making some for myself and can just as easily make an extra cup.” She held up two mugs with snowmen on them.

  “It’s just that I am really particular about my hot chocolate.” He grimaced.

  “Oh?” Lucy began breaking up the squares of real chocolate. “How so?”

  “It’s gotta be topped with whipped cream.”

  “But, of course! Whoever came up with the idea of serving it with a blobby marshmallow should be shot, or at least be sent to culinary school. Marshmallows only belong at campfires squished between chocolate and graham crackers.” She stuck out her tongue in distaste.

  “On my hot chocolate, I prefer the whipped cream to be at least…”

  “Three inches tall?” Lucy finished. “And I make hot chocolate with a splash of my secret ingredient.”

  “A secret ingredient? This sounds mysterious.” Joe laughed.

  “I make my hot chocolate with squares of real chocolate. No mixes for me. So it needs a bit of vanilla to smooth out the bitter bite of chocolate.”

  “Hey, that does sound good. I’d like to try it, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Joe got up from where he was seated and crossed the room. “Do you sprinkle cinnamon over the top of the whipped cream?”

  “Cinnamon? Hmmm.” Lucy went after the spice. “I do now.” She had to chuckle to herself at finding something fun that they had in common. It wasn’t enough to build a relationship on, but it was a good start nonetheless.

  Lucy made their hot drink, added a splash of vanilla, and then kept her finger pressed down hard on the trigger of the whipped cream until it was three layers thick. Last went a mild sprinkling of the cinnamon. She carefully handed Joe his mug, keeping an eye on the whipped cream so it didn’t fall over the side.

  After they made themselves comfortable back in the living room, they toasted by the fire.

  “Here’s to The Turtle Creek Newspaper ’ s new employee, a man of discerning hot chocolate tastes. I salute you!” Lucy raised her mug.

  “And here’s to my new job. I salute you back!” With his drink in hand, Joe reached across the hassock separating them and gently clicked mugs with her. Then he took a little sip from the edge of the cup. Whipped cream got on his upper lip. He left it there as he went back for a second taste, this one much larger. Afterward, he wiped his mouth with a paper Santa napkin. “Ah, Ms. Collins this is very good, or should I call you Boss?”

  Lucy pretended to be thinking hard on this one. “You can call me Boss but only when we’re alone like this.” She winked.

  “Well, then Boss, you can call me Ace.”

  “Fair enough, Ace” Lucy agreed.

  “And you have spoiled my taste buds for any other hot chocolate.”

  A maverick piece of curly blond hair fell over Lucy’s brow. “This is fun. I am glad you stayed overnight. It’s kind-of like having a pajama party.” Suddenly, Lucy realized she had said t
he wrong thing and blushed. “I’ve got a confession to make about earlier tonight, when we were opening the ornaments.” She stopped herself from speaking by taking a sip of her drink. Nervously, Lucy touched the cross she wore around her neck. She stalled. Pulled back. Maybe she shouldn’t say what she felt like saying after all. Yesterday, at this time, she didn’t even know who Joe was. Opening up to him like this was wrong.

  Joe sat quietly in the glow of the fire. A few embers popped and broke in two. Lucy liked that he didn’t press her to speak, sensing she had changed her mind over the confession. The words dried up in her throat. Lucy reached for her mug and drank the rest. She yawned. “Never mind.” She waved her thoughts away. “This time of the year makes me a bit sad and nostalgic.” She rubbed her achy elbow.

  “Is there something wrong with your elbow?” Joe asked. “I’ve noticed you rubbing it a few times.”

  “I fell on the ice and broke it last year. Sometimes it still aches. Like now.”

  “Did they put it in a cast at the time?”

  “No. The bone doctor said I might loose movement and put me in a sling for a few weeks.”

  Joe moved the hassock in front of Lucy and sat down. He held out his hands. “May I?”

  “Okay.” Lucy granted permission by holding out her arm. She wasn’t sure what Joe had in mind.

  Joe took Lucy by the wrist and laid the back of her hand on his knee. Gently, he straightened her arm. “How does that feel?”

  “It hurts.” She grimaced.

  “You need to exercise your arm like that several times a day,” Joe told her as he placed her arm back on her knee. He stood up from the hassock and returned to his chair.

  “How do you know about bones?” Lucy inquired.

  “I worked in a hospital as a…”

  “File clerk. Now I remember.”

  “It got lonely so I did a lot of reading.” Joe took a few sips and looked at the fire. “A few minutes ago you said you felt sad.”

  “Did I? I really don’t remember.” Lucy uneasily repositioned herself on the couch by tucking her legs up underneath her.

  “Yes, you did. You said this time of the year makes you sad.” He moved to the edge of his chair. “It’s all right, Lucy. A lot of people get depressed over the holidays. It’s very common. Would you like to talk about it?”

  A wealth of tears wanted to spring forward. She couldn’t hold them back for much longer. No way would she discuss something so personal with someone she had just met. She didn’t want to listen to Joe’s mutterings of sympathy. That would be pointless. All anyone had ever offered to her about Steve were meaningless words. Her fiancée was gone. Their relationship ended two years ago at this time of the year. Since she didn’t want to discuss it, there was no other choice but to get out of here. “It’s late. I guess I better get to bed.” She got up and took linens from the closet and set them on the couch. “We’ll have the garage apartment cleaned out for you by the time you get back, but for tonight, this will have to do. I hung a towel for you in the bathroom down the hall. It’s the blue one.”

  “Thanks for your hospitality. As for cleaning out the apartment, please don’t bother. I can do that myself.”

  “Mother would never hear of it.” Lucy walked to the stairs and turned around. “Sleep well, Joe McNamara.”

  “I will, Lucy Collins.” He smiled up at her. “I mean, Boss.”

  She walked soundlessly up the steps. She knew which ones squeaked and avoided them. In her bedroom, she looked through her window at the frozen lake with the pageant of winter stars above. The blizzard had passed hours ago but she hadn’t noticed until now. The roads would be cleared before morning. She set her alarm clock to be sure she was up before Joe left.

  The Christmas Edition

  The Christmas Edition

  Chapter Three

  December 2

  His pet peeve was saying goodbye. To anyone. So he didn’t say goodbye to the Collins family either. He simply got up before dawn, folded the sheet and blanket meticulously, left them on the couch and cleaned the kitchen, too. He was no slouch.

  In bare feet, he padded across the living room floor and parted the plastic blinds to have a look outside. The blizzard had long since passed. Good. It was important to hit the road before rush hour. By now, snowplows were busy moving snow off the roads. He expected nothing but clear driving between here and Chicago.

  He looked at the apartment windows above the three-car garage. The shades were drawn but he felt the place was waiting for him. Joe McNamara chuckled. Soon, he’d be living right there with a bird’s eye view of the Collins’ place. That meant he’d only be a few yards away from her. Lucy. He smiled each time he thought about her. This was not at all what he had in mind the morning he drove into Turtle Creek, Wisconsin, population—2,000. At the time he was only passing through. Spending a couple of hours at the most. But staying? That part was unplanned. He called it a bonus and smiled again.

  Who’da ever thought I’d be so lucky? Living right here with them at “home sweet home.” Home was personal. It meant more than working beside her at the office, although that would be good, too. He’d learn everything he needed to know about the family, the paper, and most of all, about Lucy.

  Joe felt good about the night before when he shifted the conversation from him and redirected it to them. He didn’t identify with them at all during their happy talk and boxes of silly ornaments.

  Of course, it had been hard to concentrate on their talk or ornaments, when all he could do was look toward Lucy’s eyes. He had never seen a woman with eyes quite like hers. They were like the hoarfrost of winter with promises of spring. When she smiled, it was like ice melted around the place. When he looked at her, he could almost see her soul. It was pure and white—a frightening specter to him. He stared at her so much he finally felt he needed to apologize. He wanted her to open up and tell him things she had never uttered to another human being.

  But what was most intriguing of all was when she began to open up. Lucy seemed ready to talk but a deep sadness seemed to stymie her. He had to find out what that was all about. He knew enough about human nature not to push right now; he’d work hard to earn her trust. Then she’d tell him everything. It always worked that way for him.

  In the meantime, he had to remain in control. Control was all he had left. If Lucy weakened that defense, what would he do?

  He brought himself up short and made his mind move to when they actually met the day before. He had nearly lost it when she mentioned the editorial job. It caught him totally off balance. Yes, he had researched the area, the family, and the newspaper many times, perhaps hundreds of times, finding out what he could. He had read the job posting for an editor but thought nothing about it. He was reaching into his briefcase for something else when she said she knew why he had come. It made his heart stop until she opened her mouth and kept talking. Ah, he was here to be the editor. Yes. He did have that undergraduate degree—journalism. He didn’t tell her about the rest of his education because it would be too easy for her to connect the dots. However, he did tell the truth on the application—at least as far as it went.

  Now he had to work fast before the family got up. Joe got on his shoes and quietly opened the closet for his coat. Then, holding his keys in a tight fist so they wouldn’t make a noise, he slowly turned the knob to open the front door. To his surprise, he found it unlocked. Was this a habit or an oversight?

  Good, the wind had stopped. He rushed over the top of the snowdrifts to his car. He’d start the SUV at the last minute, not taking the chance to wake them prematurely as they’d surely keep him here for hours longer.

  Swiftly, he moved from window to window and brushed the snow away before scraping at the ice underneath. He got in and turned the key in the ignition. Thankfully, the engine started right up. Slowly, he drove to the end of the driveway where he turned right toward the Interstate. There were loose ends in the city that needed his attention.

  On th
e road back to Chicago, he knew he was about to learn a lot more about Lucy Collins and a whole lot more about himself because of her. If he were smart, he would leave them alone, but Joe McNamara wasn’t feeling so smart these days. His psychiatrist would attest to that. He wasn’t going back to the hospital—not ever. He had spent two years there on the psych ward and that was long enough. The needles, the drugs, and the horrible rantings of the insane still drilled holes in his mind.

  ****

  The tapping on Lucy’s bedroom door woke her. She felt as though she hadn’t slept for more than a few hours. Cracking her eyes a bit she saw a sky filled with blue. She opened them further and wondered what happened to the dark sky and blizzard. Then she remembered Joe McNamara. He was the reason for the difficult sleep the night before and even now, he was only one floor below on her parent’s couch.