He picked her up, and she immediately got busy trying to lick his face. “You’re a good dog,” he told her. “Let’s find you a dog treat, and then we’re going to put up our Christmas tree.”
He could have sworn he smelled peppermint when he went into the garage to bring in the big artificial tree they’d bought that last Christmas before Carol died. He couldn’t help smiling.
“I know, babe. Better late than never.”
Once he had the tree and the bin with the ornaments set out in the living room, he put on her favorite radio station that played Christmas music all day long. A chorus began to sing “We Need a Little Christmas.”
Yes, they did.
* * *
The flight to LAX was torture. Lexie longed to lay her head on the drop-down tray and wail, but mommies didn’t get to enjoy that luxury. She tried to keep the tears dammed and pay attention when her son was talking to her, but it was a challenge.
Brock was oblivious to his mother’s consternation, enjoying the view out the window and the novelty of airplane food. She kept him busy with coloring and let him play some games on his tablet. He only began to get squirmy toward the end of the flight.
“When will we see Grandma?” he asked.
“Soon,” she said and hoped it would be soon enough.
It was dark by the time the plane landed. She called her uncle as soon as passengers were allowed to turn on their cell phones.
“I’ve got Jen with me. We’ll pick you up in the loading zone,” he told her.
If she’d been coming in under normal circumstances she’d have been delighted to see her cousin. Like her, Jen was a teacher.
“How’s Mom?” she asked her uncle.
“She’s going to be okay,” said Uncle Fred. “They ran an EKG and took an X-ray. Did a blood test. Looks like it wasn’t a heart attack after all.”
Lexie sagged in relief. No heart attack. Her mom was all right.
But if not a heart attack, why was she in the hospital? “Then, what was it?” Lexie asked.
“Some kind of panic attack.”
Panic attack. That was what Lexie had just had. Honestly, she was going to let her mother have it.
People ahead of her were taking down their carry-ons, starting to move up the aisle. “We’re getting off now,” she said to her uncle and ended the call.
“Was that Grandma?” Brock asked.
“No, that was Uncle Fred. He’s going to take us to Grandma.” Who is fine. Thank God!
Her uncle and cousin were waiting in Uncle Fred’s Lexus when Lexie and Brock emerged from inside the terminal. At the sight of her he hopped out and took her luggage. “It’s good to see you, Lexie. Sorry we got you down here for nothing, but when it happened your aunt was terrified.”
Poor Aunt Rose. Lexie could only imagine.
“I’m glad everything’s okay,” her cousin said, hugging her. “Angie and I are taking you to Back on the Beach tomorrow for chill time.”
After the stress of the last few hours, she’d need it.
“So don’t commit matricide,” Jen teased.
Lexie giggled. She felt practically giddy with relief. “How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”
“Because that’s what I’d be thinking,” said her cousin.
Once at the hospital, Uncle Fred and Jen took Brock to find a treat in the hospital cafeteria, which was open late, and Lexie went in search of her mother and aunt. She found Mom waiting to be discharged, sitting up in a hospital bed in her emergency-room cubicle, still wearing the latest style in hospital-gown ugly, Aunt Rose seated in a chair nearby.
There was only a two year difference between the sisters, and Mom was the youngest, but no one looking at them would think that. Aunt Rose was fit with tanned, youthful skin, thanks to fills from her dermatologist. Her hair was stylishly cut and highlighted. Mom’s hair, on the other hand, was now a drab dirty-blond streaked with gray. She looked gaunt, and the lines around her mouth had turned into crevices. She’d aged overnight. Still, Lexie couldn’t imagine a better sight.
“Oh, Lexie, darling,” she greeted her daughter. “You shouldn’t have come all this way.”
Lexie hurried to the bedside and kissed her. “Are you serious? Not come when I think you’re having a heart attack?”
Both her mother and aunt looked embarrassed at this.
“I’m sorry to have worried you,” Aunt Rose said, “but it looked serious, and I knew you’d want to know what was going on.”
“Of course I would,” Lexie said. “What happened?”
“We were at my house, just looking through some old pictures, and suddenly your mother couldn’t breathe. And she had pain in her chest.”
“I feel so foolish,” Mom added. “I had no idea a panic attack could mimic a heart attack. I don’t even know why I panicked. One minute I was looking at pictures of all of us at the beach, and the next your aunt was calling 9-1-1.”
Pictures of all of us. There was a big clue. Her father had to have been in them. Poor Mom.
“The important thing is that you’re okay,” Lexie said. She took her mother’s hand and gave it a squeeze. She could feel the tears rising.
“Where’s Brock?” Mom asked.
“He’s here. Uncle Fred and Jen took him to the cafeteria to get something to eat.”
“Oh, dear. I’ve turned your life upside down,” Mom fretted.
“No, you haven’t,” Lexie lied.
But the next day when it was just her and her cousins at the popular Santa Monica beachfront restaurant, she did some serious venting. “I don’t know how to help her,” she finished and took another bite of her grilled fish taco. It didn’t taste so good anymore.
Lexie’s cousin Angie pointed a perfectly manicured finger at her. “You’re definitely going to have to have a come-to-Jesus meeting. Your mom’s got to get a grip.”
Lexie pushed away her plate. “How do you get a grip on losing the most important person in your life?”
Neither cousin had an answer for that.
Once back at the house, she found her mom and Brock at the kitchen table, working a puzzle together. The sun was shining in through the window, creating a nimbus around them. Her mom wasn’t exactly exuberant, but she didn’t look totally miserable, either. Lexie came to a decision.
Later that night, after Brock was sound asleep in Lexie’s old bed, she made peppermint tea and then settled them on the living-room couch. “I’ve booked a flight home for tomorrow,” she said.
Disappointment was plain on her mother’s face. “So soon?”
“Yes, so soon. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I want to be back at the house for Christmas. All Brock’s presents are there. Plus I have red velvet cupcakes on the counter going stale and a turkey in the fridge that needs to be cooked.”
Mom sighed and set her mug of tea on the coffee table. “Of course.”
Lexie laid a hand on her mother’s. “And you’re coming with us.”
“Oh, darling, I’m not up to it.”
“I think you are,” Lexie said, determined to be firm. “And besides, we should be together. You scared the crap out of me, Mom,” she added softly.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mom said, sounding defensive.
“I know, but you did. And, frankly, I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” Mom insisted.
Right. Lexie had just witnessed an example of how fine her mother was.
“No, you’re not. And I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time. I’ve had a hard time, too, but I have a son who needs me to be there for him, and I need you there for me. I need my mom back.”
Her mother’s lower lip began to wobble, and she put a hand to her chest.
Lexie scooted next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Take a deep b
reath, Mom. It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” her mother said, her voice tripping over a sob.
That was all it took. The dam broke, and Lexie started crying also. They sat there together for a long time, holding each other and sharing a fresh helping of grief. At last Lexie went in search of tissues so they could mop their wet faces and blow their noses.
“We both have to keep living,” she said after her second nose blow. “Daddy would want us to, you know that.”
“I...can’t,” her mother said softly.
“You have to try, at least for Christmas. Can you do that? Please? For us?”
Mom bit her lip.
“And to honor Daddy?”
A fresh tear slipped down her mother’s cheek.
“Our flight leaves at six.” It meant they’d get in late but Lexie didn’t care. At least she’d found a flight out and getting home late was preferable to not getting home at all.
Mom sighed, nodded. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”
Lexie felt tired, too. And drained. She went to bed shortly after her mother. Curled up next to her little boy in the bed that had once been hers, she let out a deep sigh and shot up a quick prayer of thanks that Mom would be with them for Christmas.
Her mother didn’t initiate any conversation on the way to the airport, but she managed a smile or two for Brock and put an arm around him as they waited in the airport terminal to board their plane.
It’s a beginning, Lexie thought.
Their plane landed at Sea-Tac at nine that night, and it took another forty-five minutes for their Uber ride to get them home. By the time they arrived, Brock was cranky and yawning, and her mother looked ready to drop. Lexie felt overwhelmed with relief and happiness at the sight of their house. Home sweet home.
As they went up the front walk she realized she’d never even told Truman that she’d had to fly back to California. If she hadn’t booked that return flight, he’d have come over the next day with the girls and wondered what kind of flake invited him for dinner and then wasn’t around to serve it. Living so close, she’d never even thought about exchanging phone numbers, so she couldn’t have texted him.
Truman and his girls. Would Mom be up for being sociable with strangers? Lexie hoped so.
The front porch was bare of packages. Stanley must have intercepted Brock’s present and taken it to his house. She’d call him once she had her son and her mother settled in.
Inside, she sent Brock straight to bed, skipping the nightly bath routine, then gave her mother a quick tour of the house.
“It’s very nice, darling,” Mom said. “You’ve done a lovely job decorating.”
“I’m glad you’re sharing our first Christmas in it,” Lexie told her.
“I am, too,” Mom said, and Lexie hoped she really meant it.
Whether she was glad or not, she needed it. There was nothing in the old house but sadness. Her mother hadn’t even bothered to put up a tree.
Not that Christmas was about trees. Or presents. But it was about hope. Maybe Mom could find enough to take her into a better New Year.
She settled her mother in the guest bedroom, then called Stanley. She’d seen a light on in his house so hoped it was okay to call him after ten at night.
He picked up on the second ring. “How’s your mom?” he asked, and the concern in that gruff, old voice warmed Lexie’s heart.
“She’s fine. It turned out she had a panic attack, not a heart attack.”
“Good,” he said.
“I’m sorry to call you so late.”
“I was up.”
Great. She’d run right over. Then, once that final present was under the tree she, too, could go to bed.
“I didn’t see anything on the front porch and figured you must have taken in Brock’s present,” she said. “Would you mind if I came over and got it now?”
There was moment of silence and that uneasy feeling of uh-oh tippy-toed up behind Lexie and said Gotcha!
Oh, no. Please don’t say what I think you’re going to.
25
“It didn’t come,” Stanley told Lexie. “I was watching,” he added, in case she thought he hadn’t been vigilant.
There was a long silence on the other end of the call, and he could envision the tears collecting in her eyes.
“But I, uh, have something. I’ll bring it over.”
He ended the call before she could tell him to forget it. His old Lionel train set was a leftover from his childhood that he’d never gotten rid of. From the late fifties, it was still in mint condition. Some of those old sets went for as much as ten thousand dollars. He figured his would fetch at least five, probably more.
But he’d never wanted to sell it. At first the thing had been a bit of nostalgia he couldn’t bring himself to part with. Then he’d kept it, thinking he’d give it to his son one day. The son never arrived, and the train set eventually was forgotten.
Until after the Santa fiasco. Then, when the present for Brock never arrived, the idea of giving the train set to him had popped into Stanley’s mind like a gift from...Santa.
Carol had probably planted the thought there. At least, he hoped she had. Maybe, if he put it to good use, she’d visit him again. He had a feeling those visits were coming to a close, but he longed to see her one last time.
He’d found the train set, checked to make sure everything was still working and cleaned it up, and now it was ready to go. Kids these days were into video games and drones and fancy games with lots of bells and whistles, so maybe this was a dumb idea. But maybe Brock was still young enough to think a train set was cool. After all, the boy liked to play Candy Land.
Stanley threw on his coat, picked up the giant cardboard box that contained all the smaller boxes with the engine and boxcars and passenger cars and the extra tracks and headed next door.
Lexie must have seen him coming, because by the time he got to her front porch she already had the door open.
“I’m sorry what you ordered didn’t come, but maybe this will work,” he said and moved past her into the living room.
The tree had a few presents around it, but she hadn’t turned on the tree lights. In fact, the whole living room was a little dark, with only one light on.
She sighed. “Guaranteed delivery before Christmas. That’s what they promised.”
“Things don’t always go the way you plan,” he said. And he should know. He set the box down on the floor by the tree and knelt in front of it. “I need some light to work by.”
She turned on some more lights, then came and knelt next to him, watching as he opened the box. “Oh, my gosh,” she said as he took out the vintage engine. “How cute is that!”
“It was mine when I was a kid.”
“It’s an antique, then.”
Just like him.
“We couldn’t take it. It’s probably valuable.”
“Yeah, it is,” Stanley agreed.
“There’s probably someone in your family...”
He thought of Carol’s prissy nieces and their spoiled little girls and shook his head. “No, there’s not. They’re into other stuff. It’s not a fancy video game.”
“No, it’s not.” She grinned. “It has...heart.”
“Yeah, it does,” he agreed and knew he’d found the right home for his childhood treasure.
Together, they laid out the tracks so the train would circle the tree and coupled the cars. She turned on the tree lights, and he plugged in the transformer and set the little Lionel chugging its way around.
“It’s so cute. It looks like something out of an old movie,” Lexie said, and Stanley saw that she was smiling. She turned the smile on him, and it felt like sunshine on his shoulder on a winter’s day. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“This should square us,” he said hopefull
y.
“It more than squares us,” she said and stood up.
He stood, too. Time to go.
“It’s been a long couple of days. I need to unwind,” she said. “Would you like some eggnog?”
The warmth spread from his shoulder and wrapped around his heart. “Yeah.” And if she’d had a long couple of days he knew exactly what she needed. “I have just the thing to go with it. I’ll be right back,” he said and grabbed his coat.
He speed-walked back across the lawns. He was tempted to run, but the temperatures had dropped, and the grass was frosty. The last thing he wanted was to slip.
Although if he fell and broke something, then it would be her turn to drive him around, he thought with a chuckle.
Once inside the house, he went to the cupboard where he kept the booze and grabbed a bottle of rum. Bonnie was sure he had to be looking for something for her and stood on her hind legs, dancing in anticipation.
“Okay, something for you, too,” he told her and gave her a treat. “I won’t be long,” he promised, then hurried back out the front door.
Lexie grinned when he stepped back inside and held up the bottle. “Yes, that is exactly what I need,” she said.
He followed her to the kitchen where she had two glasses of eggnog poured and added the rum.
She picked up her glass, and he picked up his. Then, before he could drink, she clinked them together. “To the New Year,” she said.
“To the New Year,” he echoed.
They wandered back into the living room, and she turned off all the lights except the colored ones on the tree, and they sat and watched the train circle it.
“You saved me, Stanley,” she said. “If it wasn’t for you, there’d have been no present from Santa under the tree.”
“Yeah, but now the kid knows there’s no Santa.”
“He does, but we decided it’s still fun to pretend, and I’d promised him there’d be an extra present for him. If I hadn’t come through he’d have been crushed.”
“My dad told me there was no such thing as Santa,” Stanley volunteered.
“Were you disappointed?”
“You bet. It was a shock to hear it was all a big lie.”
A Little Christmas Spirit Page 25
