An Irish Christmas

by Melody Carlson

  “More perfect than you knew.”

  Liam’s eyes seemed to look right into me—past my calm veneer and straight to my soul. I wasn’t sure what to say now. “I’m curious about your friends,” I finally ventured. “Jamie mentioned them to me.”

  “Devin and I have been friends for years. He and Myrna have a lovely home a bit outside of Clifden. We came out here for the weekend—a little getaway. And Margaret is an old friend of mine.”

  I nodded as if that was all very nice, but I really wanted to ask him more about Margaret. What kind of “old friend” was she?

  “Did Jamie tell you about my leg?” He held up his cane as if it were a prop. “Lost it in Pearl Harbor.”

  “Yes. I was so sorry to hear that. That must’ve been hard.” “Not nearly as hard as losing you. . .” Was there a trace of bitterness in his voice? Was it about me or the leg?

  “I’m so sorry, Liam.”

  “I eventually resolved myself to my unlucky lot in life. It could’ve been worse . . . so many didn’t survive that day. I finally convinced myself it might’ve been for the best—not finding you, I mean. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to a one-legged husband, and I wasn’t sure how I’d react to being rejected.”

  “And I might’ve been married by the time you found me,” I said, which was sad but true.

  He looked down at the table, tracing a long, graceful forefinger over the grain of the wood.

  “So, did you marry, Liam? Have children?”

  “No to both.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes twinkled now. “Wait. I take that back. I did have a child.”

  “Oh, yes!” My hand flew up to my mouth to think of this. “Jamie.”

  He leaned forward eagerly. “I want to get to know him better.”

  “I don’t know why you shouldn’t.”

  “He said you were going back to the States after the holidays.”

  “Our tickets are for the twenty-sixth,” I admitted. “Jamie had insisted we keep the trip to two weeks. He wanted to be home for New Year’s Eve.”

  “Big plans, eh?”

  I shrugged. I still wanted to ask him more about this Margaret person. But how did one do this gracefully? At least they weren’t married. That was some consolation. But what if they were involved? Besides, it was quite possible that Liam had no feelings left for me. After all, I was the one who gave up so quickly. I was the one who got married.

  We continued to talk, filling in some of the blank spaces, telling each other bits and pieces of so much that had happened in the past twenty-two years. I told him a lot about Jamie. And he told me about how returning to Ireland was a life-changing experience for him, explaining how he found himself as well as God here on the Emerald Isle. It was quite a moving story. I even told him about how I’d been learning to let go of my hold on Jamie and trusting God instead. Perhaps it had to do with Ireland.

  And to my surprise, after an hour or so, I felt fairly relaxed— almost as if we hadn’t been apart all those years. It was amazing, really. And I loved hearing about Liam’s life. How he’d returned to college on his GI bill and gotten his music degree, how he’d taught at several universities and occasionally did concerts here in Ireland. “Music is an enormous part of my life.”

  “How exciting,” I said, marveling again at the color of his eyes—still as intensely blue as ever. “Does Jamie know about any of this?”

  “We didn’t get terribly far last night. To be honest, I was so stunned that I hardly recall what we did speak about.”

  “He’ll be thrilled to get to know you. He loves music dearly, more so than I even knew, and I’m afraid I haven’t been terribly encouraging.”

  “This is all so incredible,” he said suddenly. “I feel as if I should pinch myself. To think I have a real son—a talented son who appreciates music as much as I do.” His eyes got misty now. “It’s such a fantastic gift! What a grand Christmas this will be!”

  Of course, I was thrilled that he was so excited about Jamie. But I wanted to ask him where I fit into this picture. I knew it was unrealistic to assume we could pick up right where we left off. But how did he really feel about me? Was it too late for us? And what about Margaret? What was she to him? But it was as if these questions were bottled up tight, the cork jammed down. I couldn’t get a single one out.

  “I’m sure you guessed that Jamie was the one who told me where to find you this morning.” Liam looked at his watch. “And I told him that I’d love to spend some time with him before we have to head back to Galway. Margaret has a function there at two this afternoon, so our time today is limited.”

  “Oh . . .”

  He reached for my hand and gave it a warm squeeze. “It’s been so great seeing you, Colleen. Really amazing.”

  I nodded, forcing a bright smile as I held back tears. “You too, Liam.”

  “Are you going back to the hotel now? Shall we walk together?”

  I glanced at the paper still at my elbow. “I think I’ll stay here a little longer,” I said in a restrained voice. “I, uh, I think I’ll get another cup of coffee and finish the newspaper first.”

  He nodded and stood. “Take care now.”

  “You too.” Then as soon as he was out the door, I picked up the newspaper, and using it like a privacy screen, I started to cry.

  16

  Jamie

  I knew this Christmas was going to be the best ever! For one thing, we were in Ireland and that was pretty amazing in itself. But besides that, I was going to spend the holidays with Liam, my biological father. Before leaving Clifden on Sunday, Liam had invited me to come to Galway for the holidays. Of course, he extended the invitation to my mom as well. But since he had to get back to Galway and Mom wasn’t around, he asked me to ask her for him. Even so, I could tell he wanted her to come.

  “You just missed Liam,” I told Mom as she came into the hotel lobby.

  “Actually I saw him being picked up in front just now.” “Did you talk to him?”

  “Well, no . . . but I saw him getting into a nice Mercedes Benz with a pretty blonde woman at the wheel.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, that was Margaret. Did you know that she’s a musician too?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yeah,” I told her. “Liam said that she plays several instruments— they both do. And they’re having this huge Christmas Eve party with all their musical friends. And everyone will be playing music and Liam invited me to join them. He said I can play the piano or borrow his guitar or whatever. Isn’t that cool?”

  “I’m sure you’ll have a good time, Jamie.”

  “But you’re coming too,” I said quickly. “Liam said I could invite you.”

  “That was nice of him.” Mom sighed as if she was bored, or perhaps it was something more.

  “You do want to come, don’t you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know . . .”

  “Come on, Mom. It’s going to be great. You have to come to Galway. After all, it’s going to be Christmas.” I knew how Mom felt about the holidays. Family was supposed to be together. I’d broken that cardinal rule last year, and I didn’t intend to repeat that same mistake.

  Her brow creased and I was afraid she was about to say no.

  “Is it because of Liam?” I asked suddenly. “Are you uncomfortable with him?”

  “It’s hard to explain . . . I’m not even sure how I feel. Or how he feels . . .”

  “Even more reason to come,” I urged. “Liam seemed like he really wanted you there in Galway. You’ve got to come.

  ” She smiled. “Okay, Jamie, I’ll come to Galway with you.” She glanced over to the front desk. “That is if I can get it all arranged. It’s awfully late notice and it’s the holidays. We might not be able to find accommodations.”

  “I already asked the concierge to do some calling for us.

  ”She looked surprised at my assertiveness. Then she smiled and I knew it would be okay. As it turned out, the concierge knew
just the place, and by the end of the day, it was all set.

  So it was that on Christmas Eve day, following a leisurely lunch with Kerry and Dolan at the Anchor Inn, we checked out of our Clifden hotel and a hired car took us to Galway, where we checked into a very posh hotel right in the center of town.

  “Merry Christmas, son,” she said as she handed me a key to my room. “I hope this is really what you wanted.”

  I hugged her. “It’s perfect. Thanks so much. Liam said to come over anytime after six. It’s not a sit-down dinner, but they’ll have plenty of food.”

  “Oh, I don’t know that I’ll go to the party,” she said in a tired tone. “I’m feeling a little worn out and—”

  “You have to come. It won’t feel like Christmas without you.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “Come on,” I persisted. “It’s only one night. And we’ll be going back home in just two days. You need to make the most of it.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But I can’t be ready by six. You can head on over there ahead of me if you like—”

  “Not a chance,” I told her. “I’ll wait and go with you.”

  She looked slightly relieved. “Okay. Then I plan to take a nice, long bath first. And I won’t be ready to leave until seven.”

  I grinned. “That’s fine. I’ll meet you in the lobby, okay?” She frowned slightly, then nodded. I wasn’t completely sure why Mom was having such a hard time with this. Was it because of her old relationship with Liam? Was she feeling nervous about where things stood with them now? Of course, that made some sense, but it had been such a long time ago that they’d been involved. Still, it seemed possible she could still have feelings for him. Although she hadn’t said anything to make me think this. If anything, she’d been pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing. Well, other than asking about Margaret. She had tried to sound disinterested and casual, but I could tell she was concerned that Margaret and Liam were involved. To be honest, I wasn’t sure. They did seem to be pretty good friends.

  As I went into my room, I wondered what it would be like to be Mom’s age and suddenly have an old flame popping back into my life. I suppose if it was Shelly, telling me she’d made a mistake and that she wanted me back, well, I’d probably stand up and take notice. Still, it’d be awkward. I had to admit that much. But if nothing else, I hoped that Liam and Mom could be friends. What kid wouldn’t want that much from his parents?

  Mom was a few minutes late, but when she came into the lobby, I felt proud to think that this lady was my mother. She had on a dark red velvet dress that looked fantastic. She even had the mink stole that my dad had gotten her for Christmas a few years ago. And as we waited for our taxi, a gentleman going into the hotel really checked her out and even tipped his hat.

  “You look like a million bucks,” I told her.

  She thanked me and we got into the back of the taxi.

  “Since this side trip to Galway is your Christmas present to me,” I began as I pulled a small bundle from my pocket, “I thought I should give my present to you too.”

  She smiled and looked curious. “You really got me something?”

  I nodded and unwrapped the tissue paper to expose a small silver ring that I’d bought in Clifden. It was shaped like two hands holding a heart. “It’s a traditional Irish ring,” I explained.

  “A Claddagh?” she said with excitement.

  “Yes,” I said, suddenly remembering the name.

  “Oh, I had wanted to get one.”

  “It’s only silver,” I said. “And the lady at the shop said that you’re supposed to wear it on your right hand with the heart pointing away from your fingers.”

  “Really?” She slipped the ring on. “It fits! How did you know?”

  I grinned. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  Then Mom hugged me. “Thank you, Jamie. I will treasure this always.”

  We were out of the city and driving through a neighborhood now, probably getting close to the place. And I could tell by the way Mom started twisting the handle on her little black evening purse that she was getting nervous. I hoped I wouldn’t be sorry that I’d talked her into coming tonight. I was starting to feel worried about the status of Liam’s relationship with Margaret. Even though Margaret was older, probably in her late thirties, I had to admit she was really good-looking. I glanced at Mom and mentally compared the two women. While Margaret was pretty in that flashy blonde sort of way, I thought my mom had a very classic sort of beauty.

  “Liam said they play a lot of traditional Irish folk music,” I said for no apparent reason, except that I was hoping to fill in the dead silence of the taxi. “It’s supposed to be like an old-fashioned Irish Christmas.” I said a few more random things, but I suspect that Mom knew I was trying too hard. And I was probably just making both of us even more nervous.

  Liam’s house was on the outskirts of town. Situated in an impressive-looking neighborhood, it was a large stone house with lots of tall windows. Each window had a candle burning in it—I’d heard that was an Irish Christmas tradition— but it gave the house an inviting appearance. There was a huge holly wreath on the shiny red door, and we’d barely rung the bell when it was opened wide and we were welcomed by the happy sound of music.

  “Come in,” said a man in a dark suit as he held the door and took our coats, pointing us in the direction of the music.

  I spotted Liam immediately. He was playing the fiddle along with several other musicians on other traditional Irish instruments, including Margaret, who was playing a lively piece on the mandolin. Margaret stood right next to Liam, looking up into his face with an expression that seemed to convey more than just a casual musician friendship, although I hoped I was wrong. I glanced at Mom in time to see her nervously fingering the strand of white pearls that circled her neck. It was possible that this evening was going to turn into a great big mistake. As badly as I wanted to participate in the music and all, I hated to think that I was ruining Mom’s Christmas.

  “Want to sit down?” I asked, pointing to a comfortable-looking chair near the fireplace. “I can get you something to drink or some food or something.”

  “Something to drink would be nice.” She spoke to me, but her eyes were on the mandolin player. And it was hard not to stare at Margaret since she had on this silver sequined dress that was cut low in the front, and showing a fair amount of leg as well. Mom sat down and I went off in search of something to drink just as the song ended.

  “I didn’t see you come in,” Liam said when he joined me at the large cut crystal punch bowl. “Is your mother here too?”

  I nodded. “I was just getting her something to drink.”

  “This is a traditional Irish Christmas punch,” he told me. “It’s Margaret’s special recipe, but I should warn you it has a bit of rum in it.”

  I considered this. Mom wasn’t much of a drinker. But perhaps this wasn’t a bad idea tonight. Maybe it would help her to relax. “That was a great song you guys just played,” I said as I filled a cup.

  “Do you want to join us on the next number? Are you good at improvisation?”

  “I’d like to give it a try.”

  He grinned at me, then nodded toward a large table with an assortment of musical instruments arranged upon it. “Pick your instrument and come on up.”

  I took Mom her punch, then excused myself to join Liam and his friends.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she assured me. “I’m perfectly fine, Jamie. You go and have fun. It’ll be a delight just to listen.”

  I still felt a little guilty, but appreciated her attitude. This was such a great opportunity—a once-in-a-lifetime Christmas. I chose the guitar and joined the others, and before long I was picking and strumming to a lively Irish folk tune. It felt so natural to play like this, like it really was something in my blood. It seemed to be the same sort of feeling that I’d been putting into my piano playing this past year. But I could never quite figure it out or even put a name to it. N
ow I wondered if it was simply “Irish.” I didn’t know how many songs I’d played with the others before I remembered my mom. I hoped she didn’t feel abandoned.

  “How are you doing?” I asked as I joined her again.

  She smiled happily. “I’m absolutely fine, Jamie. And the music is lovely. Please, don’t feel that you need to entertain your poor old mother.”

  I laughed. “There’s nothing poor or old about you.”

  She smiled at a gray-haired woman sitting to her right. “And I’ve made a new friend tonight.” Then she introduced me to Mrs. Flanders. “She’s Liam’s neighbor and an artist. We’ve been having a great time getting acquainted.”

  “And you are a talented lad,” Mrs. Flanders said. “I nearly fell over when Liam informed me that he had a son joining us tonight.” She shook her head. “Remarkable!”

  Mom smiled at Mrs. Flanders, but her eyes seemed a little sad. “So, really, Jamie, please, don’t worry about me. Just enjoy this evening. I love watching you play. I had no idea you were this good.”

  “I take after my father.” I winked at her.

  “You sure do.” Her smile looked genuine now. “And I’m so proud of you!”

  So, feeling relieved that Mom at least had someone to chat with, I returned to the musicians, and this time, seeing that no one was at the piano, I slipped in and began to play along. Liam grinned at me as he picked up the discarded guitar and surprised me with some very tricky fretwork. This guy could teach me a lot!

  As the evening wore on, we began to play more Christmas music and some of the less musical spectators even started to sing along with us. Margaret was a pro at getting the crowd enthused. She’d shout out the words and they’d join in. It was such a happy evening and such a great mix of people. Not to mention that the music was amazing. And, for the first time that I can ever recall, I felt as if I completely fit in. It was better than when I’d led Jamie and the Muskrats and better than when I’d met the Irish musicians in Dublin and wished I could join their band.

  This was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. It felt as if I’d finally come home. I was so comfortable here, playing with my biological father and his musician friends, that it was indescribably cool. Extremely groovy. The only disappointing part of the evening, and something that seemed completely out of my control, was the aura of sadness that seemed to drape itself around my mother. Oh, she was smiling and clapping and even singing along when she knew the words. But her eyes . . . they were full of sadness. And I feared this was probably the longest evening of her life—and she was doing it for me. And, despite my guilt, it was so hard to quit playing. But when I checked on her, she reassured me that she was having a good time. And so I was back on the guitar again, and as we played and played, I honestly thought I could carry on like this for hours. Maybe even days.