An Irish Christmas

by Melody Carlson

  Sally seemed to consider this, then eagerly nodded. “Oh, I loved that movie too. Well, except for the part where he spanked her. That was uncalled for.”

  I laughed, then agreed.

  “So, there’s no talking you out of this Ireland trip then? You and Jamie won’t change your minds and come down and spend Christmas with us this year?”

  “No, but thanks anyway. The travel agent has it all booked and Jamie’s already applied for his passport.”

  “And yours must still be good.”

  “Yes. It’s been less than three years since Hal and I went to Paris.”

  Sally sighed. “And I’ll bet you’re glad you did that, aren’t you? Good thing you didn’t wait for your twentieth anniversary after all. Wouldn’t that have been last winter?”

  I nodded. “Who knew Hal would be gone by then?”

  I could almost see the wheels turning in Sally’s head now. Hal and I had kept quiet about our anniversary for years, and not for the first time, I could see my sister doing the mental math, calculating about how Hal and I married in February, but how Jamie was born the following July, only six months later. And, weighing in at a hefty eight pounds four ounces, he wasn’t a bit premature either. Still, as usual, Sally didn’t mention this slight discrepancy. I suspected she and Richard had their own secrets too. Some sleeping dogs were better left undisturbed.

  “Hi, Aunt Sally,” Jamie called as he slammed the kitchen door behind him.

  “You’re looking fit and trim.” Sally nodded approvingly at his tanned and sturdy torso, still glistening with perspiration.

  “He’s been helping to keep the grounds up for me, cleaning the pool and cutting the lawns and whatnot.” I smiled at my shirtless son as he foraged through my refrigerator. He eventually located a bottle of Pepsi and popped the lid off with the opener tucked beneath the counter. Then he nodded to us, said a polite good-bye, and headed back out.

  “I noticed the real estate sign is still up,” Sally said. “You still planning to sell?”

  “It’s been a relief having Jamie around to help, but I can’t depend on him forever, and this place is really too big for me.” I set down my empty cup and pressed my lips together, unsure once again about so many things.

  “It’s such a beautiful home, Colleen . . .” I heard the longing in her voice.

  “According to Jane, my real estate lady, there’s an interested party who plans on making an offer in the next week or so.”

  “And then what?” Sally studied me carefully as she set down her cup. “Don’t tell me you plan on moving out of here before your big trip to Ireland?”

  “I don’t know . . . but I didn’t sell the old warehouse that Hal used for the shoe business,” I explained. “I suppose I could store some things there, and then sell some things. I really won’t need all this furniture.”

  Sally frowned. “You’re okay, aren’t you, Colleen? The way you’re talking about selling things, packing up, and all that . . . well, you remind me of an old woman who’s about to call it quits. Is there anything you’re not telling me? You’re not sick, are you?”

  I forced a tight smile and took a small sip of coffee. “No, I’m perfectly fine, Sally. I just feel overwhelmed, that’s all. I want to simplify my life.” I waved my hand around the big modern kitchen with its long laminated countertops, sleek white metal cabinets, and the fancy GE appliances, all those expensive things that Hal insisted I should have when we built this house back in 1950. “I really don’t need all this.”

  Sally laughed. “I sure wish I could trade with you. My kitchen is so tiny that if all three kids and Richard are in there with me, I can barely turn around, let alone attempt to cook anything edible.”

  “At least it’s better than what we grew up with back in Minnesota,” I reminded her. “Remember Mom’s old cast iron cookstove and how hot that place got in the summertime during harvest season? It was like a Swedish sauna.”

  “Or a steam room if we were canning.” Sally nodded grimly. “I still remember how I fumed at you for leaving home after high school. I got stuck with all the cooking for the next few years.”

  I smirked at my younger sister. “I did my time.”

  “You and me both!”

  We both laughed, then as usual we recalled some of the fun parts of growing up on a wheat farm in northern Minnesota, commiserating about how it felt being the only two girls in a family with six sons who all helped our dad to work the land. We exaggerated about the size of the mosquitoes and how challenging it was to have a boyfriend with all those brothers around. I even told her the story of when our oldest brother Hank found Tom Paulson kissing me in the hayloft.

  “Poor Tom,” I said, suppressing laughter. “After the black eye and bloody nose, that unfortunate boy never looked at me again.”

  “No wonder you wanted to move out to Hollywood,” Sally teased. “And, you know, Colleen, I really thought you were going to make the big times too. I used to brag to all my girlfriends, telling them how you were going to be a famous movie star. I even made up some stories, pretending like you were actually getting cast in some films. I have to confess that I even told Katherine Olson that you’d gotten a small role in a movie with Clark Gable, and she believed me.”

  I laughed loudly now. “She believed you?”

  “Well, we’d all seen you in the high school plays. You were the best and you were a beauty, and everyone knew it. We thought you had a real chance.”

  I frowned and glanced away. “Guess we were all wrong about that.”

  “You could’ve been a star,” Sally said stubbornly. “If you hadn’t given up so quickly. We were all so shocked when you wrote home and told us that you’d gotten married. Oh, sure the war was going and all, but it still took us all by surprise.”

  “Oh, well . . .” I sort of shrugged and tried to think of a way to change the subject.

  Sally laughed now. “I suppose that’s what true love does to a person.”

  I stood and carried my coffee cup to the sink. “Your Julie told me that she’s interested in acting,” I said as I rinsed my cup. “She said she plans to try out for the school play next spring. I think she’d be a good actress.”

  Fortunately that was all I needed to sidetrack my sister. Soon Sally was talking about Julie and how much her only daughter had matured last summer. “She gave up all her old tomboy ways, well, besides playing basketball with the boys in the driveway, I don’t think that will ever end. But did I tell you that Julie’s got a little boyfriend now? Not that we’re letting her date yet since she’s only fifteen, but it’s so cute how he calls her on the phone. Richard even got her a little pink princess phone for her bedroom last week. It’s so adorable.”

  “Julie is such a sweetheart. I’d love to see her before we go to Ireland. You know, she’s the closest thing I’ve had to a daughter.” I smiled at my sister. “I try not to feel too envious of you.”

  “Believe me, there are times when I’d gladly give her to you.” She set her empty cup down, then just looked at me. “Tell me, sis, why didn’t you and Hal have more kids? You were such good parents to Jamie, and with this great, big house, well, it just never made sense to me.”

  “I would’ve loved more,” I admitted. “But Hal had an old injury . . . you know, the sort of thing that makes it impossible to conceive children.”

  Sally looked truly shocked at my unexpected confession, and I suddenly realized my faux pas and wondered what I could possibly say to undo my blunder. This was what came of getting too comfortable while chatting.

  “Then having Jamie was a real miracle, wasn’t it?” Sally’s eyes grew wide with curiosity.

  For a brief moment, I considered telling my sister the truth—the whole truth and nothing but the truth. She was, after all, my only sister as well as my closest friend. But this was a secret I had harbored and protected for so many years, and old habits are hard to break. “Uh, actually, Hal’s accident happened after Jamie was born.” I did hate to li
e, but sometimes it was a necessary evil. “It happened during the holidays, years ago . . . an eight-foot shelf overloaded with boxes of shoes toppled onto him . . . nearly killed the poor man.” Well, at least that was all honest. But the real truth was that the accident happened when Hal was in his early twenties, long before I ever met him.

  “I never knew that,” Sally said, her finely plucked brows arched high.

  “Well, it’s not something we ever talked about, not even privately,” I admitted. “I think Hal was very embarrassed by the whole thing.” Now that was totally true.

  Sally nodded. “Yes, I can understand that. I’m sure Richard would be the same way. Men are just like that.”

  “So, I’ll trust you to keep that little confidence to yourself,” I said quietly. “You know, for Hal’s sake . . . and Jamie’s.”

  “Of course.” Sally glanced at the kitchen clock. “Goodness, I only meant to stay for an hour or so and it’s nearly noon already. I’ve got so much to do. Say, why don’t you and Jamie come down for Thanksgiving next month? That way you can see Julie and she can ask you all sorts of acting questions. I’ve been telling her about her almost famous aunt.”

  I chuckled. “I doubt that I can tell Julie much about acting, that was so long ago and things have certainly changed since then. But I’m sure we’d both love to come for Thanksgiving. I’ll check with Jamie and call you next week. Okay?”

  “Perfect!”

  I watched from the living room window as Sally drove away in her old blue Plymouth, the same car she’d been driving for more than a decade now. I imagined her busy family life down in San Diego, sharing a small three-bedroom bungalow with only one bath and five people—and despite wanting to be a more mature person, I flat out envied my younger sister. I think I would’ve traded my modern five-bedroom house, my upscale neighborhood, the inground pool, my sleek white Cadillac, my membership at the country club, and all my fancy clothes and shoes and everything— well, everything except my Jamie—all of it in exchange for the simple little life that my sister had been living all these years.

  And feeling like that just made me sick inside. How could I be so ungrateful? How could I be so self-centered and selfish? Think of all that dear Hal had done for me, and now all I felt was regret. But not for losing him. Oh, I did feel that too, I felt it deeply. Hal had been good to me. But, no, my regret went deeper, further back. Perhaps it was a grief that I had neglected to experience at the time—a grief that would haunt me the rest of my earthly days. Or maybe Ireland would put it to rest. One could only hope.

  4

  Jamie

  “I hear your mother put her house up for sale,” Henry Ackley said as he set a shoe box at my feet.

  I’d come into Frederick’s Fine Footwear for a new pair of loafers, after Mom had strongly hinted that my old ones might not be fit for international travel. I’d been trying to be a bit more congenial lately, trying to show some appreciation for the fact that Mom had invited me to move back home. I’d spent the last several days pruning shrubs, edging the lawn, washing windows, and all sorts of labor-intensive projects to make the old homestead look better—the reason being that Mom’s “most serious buyer” was supposed to come by for a “third walk-through” today, and she hoped the third time would really be the charm.

  “That’s right,” I told Henry as I slid my foot into the sleek leather shoes, lined with even more smooth leather. Now, despite my previous prejudices toward the shoe-selling business in general, I had to admit, at least to myself, that new shoes really were sort of cool. They had this certain smell and texture that just made you feel good all over. These particular loafers, with a pair of bright copper pennies tucked into the slots, would look just about perfect. And, as I extended my right foot out to admire the workmanship, a small wave of regret washed over me. Why had I so easily abandoned the opportunity to run my dad’s business?

  Then, as I slipped my left foot into the remaining shoe, I remembered the piece of music I’d been unable to work on this past week, and I recalled how much I missed my secret piano sessions in the warehouse, and how I planned to go over there and play for a few hours later today—and perhaps one day I’d be able to confess the whole thing to my mother, somehow make her understand. So, once again, I convinced myself that selling shoes was not what I wanted to do with my life. I sighed as I stood and looked down at this pair of swell-looking shoes.

  “How do they feel?” asked Henry.

  I strolled around the store now, careful to stay on the dark green carpet runners that Dad had installed himself many years ago. We always got irritated if a customer ventured off the padded surface and over to the linoleum floor, even if they did want to hear the sound of the heels clicking on the hard surface. “Nice,” I told Henry. “I’ll take them.”

  Henry grinned. “I guess that means you’ll pay for them too. Not like the old days, eh?”

  I slipped off the loafers and placed them back in the box. “Nope. Times are changing.”

  “How about some socks to go with them?”

  I grinned at Henry, ever the salesman. “Sure,” I said, going over to the sock rack and removing a couple pairs of crew socks.

  “White socks with brown loafers?” He actually lifted his nose in the air.

  “Like I said, times are a-changing.”

  He shook his head. “Brown shoes need brown socks.”

  I just laughed and handed him the socks.

  “So, your mother really is serious about selling her house?” he asked for the second time.

  “Seems to be the case.” I followed him up to the cash register, wondering about his sudden interest in my mother’s real estate deals. “You interested in buying it?”

  He sort of laughed. “Afraid it’s a little too rich for my blood.”

  “For hers too.” I opened my billfold, feeling partially surprised to see actual money in it. My mom had been paying me for helping out these past few weeks, and for the most part, I’d been saving it. Amazing how it could begin to add up when your expenses were minimal.

  Then Henry cleared his throat. “Jamie, I know it’s not been much over a year since your dad passed, but do you think your mom will ever be interested in, well, you know, in seeing other fellers and whatnot?” He picked up a stubby yellow pencil and fiddled with it, obviously nervous about this out-of-character inquiry.

  I blinked, then stared at him, noticing how his smooth pale cheeks were starting to flush pink. Was Henry seriously interested in my mom? “I, uh, I don’t know,” I said. “We don’t talk usually about things like that.” The truth was I couldn’t imagine, for the life of me, my mother going out on a date with any man, let alone someone like Henry.

  “Well, I can understand that, Jamie.” He licked the tip of his pencil. “But your mom is a fine-looking woman and a good person to boot. I expect it won’t be long before fellers start coming a-calling.”

  I grinned at Henry. “Would you be one of those fellers?”

  He blushed even redder now. “Well, I might just get myself in line.”

  I patted him on the shoulder. “I’m sure she could do worse, Henry.”

  He smiled as I handed him a ten. “Thanks.”

  I nodded, but the image of my mother with someone like Henry Ackley made my head hurt. Oh, sure, he was a nice enough guy and all, but the two of them would be like Gomer Pyle dating Audrey Hepburn. Granted, Mom was a little older than Miss Hepburn, but she had a similar kind of class and style, and somehow I just couldn’t see how Henry would fit into that picture. Of course, I’d be willing to bet there’d been those who’d said the same sort of thing about my dad. But then he’d been younger back when they’d gotten married. He’d been thinner and had a full head of hair in those days. I knew this was true because I’d seen the photos.

  “So, what are your plans, son?” Henry was counting out my change now and sounding a little too fatherly, in my opinion. “For the future, I mean. What’s next for young Jamie Frederick?”


  I sort of shrugged, then quickly told him about Mom’s plan to take me to Ireland next month. To be honest, that was about as far ahead as I could see anyway.

  “An Irish Christmas?” he said with curious brows. “Interesting . . .”

  “Yeah, something like that.” Then I winked at him. “Actually, I think this little trip might be Mom’s way of trying to talk me out of joining the Air Force.”

  Henry’s pale eyes lit up now. “The Air Force? Are you joining the Air Force, Jamie?”

  “Maybe so.”

  “Well, I’ll be! That’s the best darn news I’ve heard in weeks. The Air Force—now wouldn’t that be something. I can just imagine you up there, flying high in one of those big old jets and serving your country with pride.”

  I stood a little taller. “Yeah, a buddy of mine joined up last spring, and it sounds like a pretty good opportunity for guys my age.”

  Henry slapped me on the back. “It’d make a man out of you, son.”

  Okay, I probably slumped some at that comment. I suppose I like to think that because I’m twenty-one, I’m already a man. But then again it might just be a matter of perspective. “Thanks, Henry,” I said as I took the paper bag with my last name still stamped onto the side of it. “Be seeing you ’round.”

  “Tell your little mother hello for me.”

  “Will do.” I waved as I walked away, and the bell jingled as I pulled the glass door toward me—a familiar sound, sometimes comforting, sometimes aggravating. Now I realized it was something I’d probably taken for granted. Like so many other things in my life. But today that little brass bell had the sound of finality to it. As if it was the end of an era. And maybe it was . . . times they were a-changing. Not that I wouldn’t go back there to buy shoes again someday. I probably would. But this was the first time I’d ever been in Frederick’s Fine Footwear when it hadn’t belonged to my family. I think the whole thing just made me sad. Or maybe it was just something in the air that day.