An Irish Christmas

by Melody Carlson

  “Jamie’s a fine musician,” she said. “’Tis a boy ’twould make any mother proud.”

  I blinked in surprise. Who was this woman and how did she know my son? I simply nodded. “Yes. He’s always been a good boy.”

  “But you’re unhappy with him now.”

  “I’m frustrated,” I admitted, still wondering who she was and why she felt the need to intrude into my personal affairs. “We had a little misunderstanding.”

  “About his piano playing?”

  I glanced over to the door, curious as to whether he’d come back or not. Maybe he was just taking a little stroll, to cool off. Maybe the right thing to do was to wait for him to come back.

  “Jamie told me that ya did not know—’twas meant to be a surprise.”

  I stared at this strange woman. Just how much did she know anyway? “I’m sorry,” I said, “but I totally forgot your name.”

  She smiled. “Kerry. Kerry McVee.”

  I swallowed hard. “Kerry, you seem like a nice person. And I’m not sure how much Jamie told you. But . . .” I paused then shook my head. “Let’s just say this is a little bit complicated.”

  “Yes, the best things in life usually are.” She waved at her brother who had just given another table their bill. “Dolan,” she called. “Bring us a fresh pot of tea, will ya?” Then she turned back to me and smiled with warm eyes. “Why don’t ya tell me all about it?”

  I felt my eyes getting moist now. I wasn’t sure if it was due to her unexpected kindness or the tumultuous emotions I’d just experienced with Jamie and the piano, but I felt as if a thick wall inside of me was crumbling. The dam that had held back my secret for so long was about to break. I knew it was time to open up, and Kerry seemed a safe person to confide in. “It’s a long story . . .”

  She nodded. “I have time.” Then she glanced at the door too. “Let’s just talk until he comes back.”

  “If he comes back . . .”

  “He’s a grown lad, dear. And a smart one too. He’ll be all right.”

  So I took in a deep breath and I began. “I was so shocked when Jamie started to play the piano. I had no idea that he knew how to play, that he had any interest in it. I mean, he’d gotten a guitar in high school, like so many boys who wanted to be the next Buddy Holly. And he and some of his friends would play out in the garage. Mostly that loud crazy music that I can’t stand. I just figured it was a phase.”

  “But perhaps ’tis something more?”

  “Yes. You see, Jamie’s father was a musician too. Oh, Jamie doesn’t know this. In fact, he doesn’t even know who his real father is—” I took in a sharp breath, shocked that I’d just made this confession.

  “Go on, Colleen. This is not a new story, you must know that.”

  “No, I suppose it’s not.” I gathered my thoughts, turning back the clock, back to twenty-two years earlier, back to the fall of 1941. “I had moved to Hollywood, from a farm in the Midwest,” I began. “I thought I was going to become a movie star.” I laughed and told her a bit about my high school acting days. “Of course, that did not prepare me for Hollywood in the least. Although I did manage to get a few small jobs, a couple of photo shoots for soap advertisements along with some runway modeling. But after two years, it wasn’t really working out like I’d planned. It was a week before Thanksgiving, and I had actually considered giving the whole acting thing up and going home for good. You know it was wartime and several of my brothers had been shipped off to Europe and I knew my family missed me. But my roommate Wanda, who was also trying to get her big Hollywood break, talked me into going to a party with her. She thought we might make some good connections, meet somebody important, a director or producer, someone who could change our lives.” I remembered everything about that night. How Wanda and I had both dressed carefully, how we split the cab fare, knowing we’d be broke tomorrow, both hoping this could be it—our big night.

  “And did you meet someone important?”

  “Oh, I’ll admit there were some impressive people at that party. And, yes, I did meet someone who changed my life . . .” I remember the crowded room now, seeing the handsome man at the piano, the way his head bent ever so slightly as he played, just the way my son’s had done tonight. He was a friend of the host’s, just playing for the fun of it. “But not in the way I had planned.” I sighed, remembering the way I felt when he picked me out of the crowd, the way he spoke to me as if he really knew me, knew everything about me, and later the way he touched my face, our first kiss. A delightful shiver ran down my spine just to remember the feel of his touch, how my heart raced when we danced, when he held me close. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before . . . or since.

  Kerry smiled. “And you fell in love?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Your cheeks are flushed.”

  I touched my face. “Oh . . .”

  “It’s lovely.”

  I took in another deep breath, trying to decide how much more to say to her. And yet it felt good to finally tell this to someone—like a confession, wasn’t it supposed to be good for the soul? Especially if I could tell someone who I would, in all likelihood, never have to see again. “I’d never been with a man,” I admitted. “I was saving myself for marriage. But something happened when I was with him—something wild and uncontrollable. We spent the next three days together, and I felt as if I would follow that man anywhere . . . I’d do anything to be with him forever. Do you know what I mean?”

  She had a wistful expression now. “It’s been many years ago, but I do remember that feeling. So, what happened?” “He was an officer in the Navy, a communications specialist, and was being shipped to Honolulu. Pearl Harbor.”

  Her pale brows arched. “Oh . . .”

  “Yes. It was 1941 and he shipped off a few days before Thanksgiving. He was due to arrive the third of December. But before he left, he asked me to marry him. He told me he loved me and he wanted us to go down to city hall and do it right then and there, but I wanted to wait . . .” I bit my lip and for the millionth time asked myself why—why didn’t I agree to marry him that day?

  “So, you didn’t marry?”

  “No. I wanted to plan a small wedding. I wanted some of my family to come out and meet him. He was so wonderful, I knew they’d all love him. And Liam didn’t think he’d be in Honolulu more than a couple of weeks. He felt certain he’d be back for Christmas.”

  “Liam?” she said with interest. “Was he Irish by chance?” I nodded eagerly. “Yes! Rather, his parents had been—they had immigrated before he was born. But it had always been his dream to come to Ireland someday. That was why I wanted to come here now, and why I brought my son. I thought it would be a good place to tell him . . . the truth.”

  “So am I correct to assume that Liam died in the bombing of Pearl Harbor?”

  I swallowed hard, then nodded. “Because we weren’t married . . . I was never notified of his death . . . but all my letters were returned. I searched the Red Cross lists, but I’d heard that many names hadn’t been included yet. But then I never heard a word from him either.”

  Kerry reached over and put her hand on mine. “And you were with child.”

  “Yes . . . and I knew that Liam had been going over there to work on the Arizona,” I said. “So many were killed . . . I knew in my heart that he was gone.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I considered going home and lying to my parents, telling them that I’d been briefly married, then widowed, and I could almost convince myself that it was true. And I wanted to stay in California, in case he came back. But while I was waiting, hoping to hear from Liam, Wanda got married, and I couldn’t afford the apartment. So I took a job at a shoe store in a nearby town and rented a room there. I knew my Hollywood dreams were finished by then.”

  “Not much call for actresses with a bulging belly, I’ll venture.”

  I shook my head. “The man I worked for, the owner of the shoe store, was so kind and
generous to me. He was the one who helped me find a room to rent. Although it didn’t take him long to figure things out. I tried to cover it up, but I began to show in the spring. Plus I had morning sickness for nearly half of the pregnancy. One day, when I’d been late for work again, he called me into his office and I just knew that he was going to fire me. But, instead, he proposed.”

  “And you accepted.”

  “I didn’t know what else to do. I told Hal the truth, the complete truth. He said it didn’t matter and that we would raise the child as our own. The only thing he asked of me was to never speak of it again. So I didn’t.”

  “Until now.”

  “Yes. He died a year and a half ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. But I feel that Jamie needs to know the truth. Perhaps more than ever after hearing him tonight. He is his father’s son.”

  “’Tis amazing . . . a son would play music like the father, and yet they never met.” She just shook her head.

  The dining room was quiet now. All the other diners had left, and I suddenly realized it was getting quite late. “I should be going,” I said, standing and opening my purse. “I’m worried about Jamie. I should check on him.” I reached for the bill.

  But Kerry got it before I could and she crumpled it up in her hand. “Dinner is on the house tonight.”

  “No,” I insisted. “You must let me pay.”

  She gave me a stern look. “You need to respect Irish hospitality, Colleen. If I say you’re my guest for dinner, ya should not argue with me.”

  “May I leave a tip?”

  She smiled. “Certainly.”

  I slipped what I hoped would be a generous tip beneath my teacup and thanked her.

  “Do come again,” she said. “And bring Jamie along. I would love to hear the lad play some more of that lovely music. He has a gift, you know, a real gift.”

  I forced a smile, unsure if I’d ever be able to talk my son into playing anything again. At least not for me. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

  “Or if you’d like to come on up here for a spot of tea,” she said hopefully. “Please, drop by. We have a lovely view in the daytime and I make some scones that are renown in the region.”

  “Yes,” I said suddenly. “I’d like that. Thank you!”

  10

  Jamie

  I didn’t know how things had gone so crooked for me tonight. Everything had seemed just about perfect, and then— bam—it all went sideways. I was walking back toward town, trying to find my way in the dark, and wondering why there weren’t more streetlamps out here. Although, to be fair, I was still a ways from town. I could hear the sound of the ocean to my right, the waves smashing onto the rocks in a lonely way, a way that made me long for something . . . something I couldn’t even put my finger on.

  Finally—feeling like, what was the use, why try to figure it out?—I found a boulder planted next to the gravel road and just sat down on it. I could see some sort of light off in the distance, and to my surprise it turned out to be the moon, rising up over the sea. I watched with fascination as it came over the surface of the ocean, reflecting a long, cool slice of blue light over the water. It wasn’t a full moon, but it was getting close. Maybe three-quarters or seven-eighths. I’d never been great at geometry.

  Like an LP record with a deep scratch, I kept replaying Mom’s reaction to my confession tonight, trying to understand where it had gone wrong, and why. Why hadn’t I been able to use the music and some of the charm I’ve been accused of misusing to bring this whole thing around and make her understand that my choices had really been for the best in the end? Why had she gotten so upset? I knew that no parents want to be deceived, but sometimes it just happened. To be fair, it had happened all my life. Mom was well aware that her son was no angel. But she’d always forgiven me before. I usually got off pretty easily too—even my friends thought I was a little spoiled. And yet, my mother just didn’t seem like herself tonight. As if she’d been caught off guard, she’d seemed so shocked, so taken aback, and so unlike her usual cool, calm, and well-mannered self. Looking back, it was just plain weird.

  I picked up a stone and chucked it out as far as I could, trying to make it to the sea, but hearing no splash. I thought about my dad, wondering how he would’ve reacted to all this, and I honestly felt like he might’ve taken it better. Sure, he would’ve been shocked at first, but then he would’ve listened, he would’ve tried to see my side. Despite the fact that he’d always wanted me to go into the shoe business, that he’d never thought music could ever provide a means to live, but something a guy ought to do just for the fun of it, I still think he would’ve understood me eventually. Oh, he would’ve been disappointed in me for lying to him. No doubt about that. Especially since Dad lived by a strict code of ethics, a code that was ruled by his faith in God. But he would’ve gotten over it. And because of his faith, he would’ve forgiven me too. I knew that for a fact. Plus he probably would’ve forgiven me a whole lot quicker than Mom, that was assuming that she ever would. Man, I wished I had told the truth sooner, back when Dad was still alive. I thought about that old saying about weaving tangled webs by telling lies. It seemed to be true.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there, but I finally decided that I was cold and I should probably get back to the hotel. I knew that Mom would be worried about me, but I thought maybe that was a good thing. Maybe she’d have time to think and maybe even feel bad about her reaction. It seemed the least she could’ve done was to compliment me on learning to play piano. Even if she didn’t like the style or whatever it was that seemed to displease her. Who could figure out mothers these days? That reminded me of her main purpose in bringing me to Ireland. How could I have forgotten? Oh, she hadn’t really spoken of it lately and I was sure if I confronted her now, she’d deny it. But I had no doubt that her plan was to talk me out of joining the Air Force while we were here. I knew that she wanted to keep me home, and I suspected she thought if she kept me on a tight leash, playing the handyman around her house, that I would be safe and sound.

  Well, my mother still had a few lessons to learn. As far as joining the Air Force went, I was more committed to it now than ever before. The first thing I’d do once we got back home would be to go sign up. And I knew they’d take me too. I’d done sports throughout high school and for fun afterward, so I was in pretty good shape. Plus nearly two full years of business college wouldn’t hurt either. Hopefully it’d get me a better status once I enlisted, maybe even an officer. I’d have to look into that.

  So, as I stood up and started walking toward town, it was with a new authority. I was going to join the Air Force. I might even become a pilot. And eventually, like it or not, my mother would learn to respect me for it.

  Once I got to town, I decided I wasn’t ready to face Mom quite yet. It wasn’t even ten, and I suspected that she’d still be up. Probably waiting for me. So I went into the pub where the live music was playing, and although this band wasn’t as good as the one in Dublin, probably because they were older and maybe a little more traditional, they were still good. Very good. And I enjoyed listening to them. I decided to stick around until the place closed up. That way I could probably avoid seeing my mother altogether tonight. And even if it made her worry a little, I didn’t see how that could hurt. As I drank my second pint of stout, I wondered if my mother had any idea of how deeply she had hurt my feelings tonight. Or if she even cared.

  11

  Colleen

  I tossed and turned until after midnight, worried sick about Jamie, but hoping he was all right and that I hadn’t hurt him too badly. Although I knew I had. Oh, I’m sure he expected me to be upset, but normally, we would discuss such things in a civilized way if we were in public. I knew I’d have to explain myself. Jamie had no idea that I was reacting more to his music and my memories of Liam than I was to the news that he dropped out of college. In fact, I think I suspected he hadn’t graduated. My own sister had suggest
ed as much. Somehow I needed to make him understand. I needed to tell him the truth . . . perhaps even tomorrow.

  Finally when it was nearly one, I heard footsteps down the hallway and then a key turning in the door next to mine, and I knew he’d made it back safely.

  Still, it was hard to shut down my mind. So many old and new feelings tumbled inside my head; like my old Whirlpool washer when it got stuck on the spin cycle, things just kept spinning round and round. Would I ever be able to sort it all out? And how was I going to explain it all to Jamie? Telling my story to Kerry tonight had been a relief of sorts, but at the same time it had stirred up the pot, a pot that I’d managed to keep quiet for a long time. Now I was plagued with old questions, haunted by forgotten longings, and even obsessing over that old what might have been. . . . What if things had gone differently? What if I’d said yes to Liam, instead of wait?

  But I’d been through all that before . . . so long ago that it seemed like another person, another lifetime. At the time I’d picked up the only survival skill that seemed to work—I learned to move on. I learned to focus my emotions and energies on the task at hand, whether it was having a baby, being a new mom, helping to sell shoes, or volunteering in the community. I simply moved on.

  But I felt blindsided by this misunderstanding with Jamie—without even making my disclosure, our relationship had already hit the rocks. What if things got worse? What if I lost him completely? I wasn’t sure I could survive that. Maybe I needed to rethink my plan. Maybe I was being too hasty.

  Suddenly I wondered why I’d ever felt the need to tell him about his birth father in the first place. What difference did it really make? What was done was done. Nothing I could say or do would change the past. Why not let sleeping dogs lie? Then I remembered how he’d announced his intention to join the Air Force, and the chill of fear that had rushed through me when I imagined him going to war. It seemed just my luck that Jamie wanted to follow in his birth father’s footsteps—whether he knew about him or not. Hadn’t his style of music been a clear sign of that tonight? I was stunned to hear him playing—so like Liam that it was eerie. And, for one brief, crazy moment, I thought I’d gone back into time. I thought that Liam was still alive, still young and handsome, still playing the piano. It was as if Pearl Harbor had never happened. And then I actually pinched myself, realizing it wasn’t Liam, it was my son. And Liam’s son. So strange.