Christmastime 1940: A Love Story

by AGNES IRENE

  “No, you weren’t. I can’t thank you enough for what you did. I don’t know what you said to Tommy but he’s been different ever since.” Lillian threw her hands open. “And now I’m in your debt again.”

  Drooms waved this away.

  “Is this what happens when you get old?” Lillian asked. “You start needing more help?”

  Drooms smiled. “Are you asking me as the aged expert?”

  She laughed and stood, shaking her head and reaching for the afghan. Drooms took the other end and helped her with it, their hands touching briefly for the final fold. Lillian placed the afghan over the back of the couch. “I hope they weren’t too much trouble.”

  “None at all. And I’ve learned quite a bit about pirates tonight. I was Blackbeard.” He rubbed his cheek in explanation.

  Lillian laughed at the idea. “And did you read in character?”

  “Yes. After some initial instruction.”

  She laughed again, and wondered at her high spirits. It seemed that everything was fine once more, that life was happy, exciting, promising.

  “Mr. Drooms. What would you say to a glass of my hot buttered rum?”

  Drooms gave it a thought, and nodded. “I would say that’s a drink worthy of a pirate.”

  She gestured towards the kitchen table. “Please. Have a seat. It will just take a minute.”

  She heated a pan of water and added the butter, rum, and brown sugar. Then she rummaged through the cupboard and took out the vanilla and spices, adding the ingredients as she listened to Drooms.

  He told her about the stories he had read to the boys, and how Gabriel had jumped up at certain parts to enact the scene. Lillian tapped a dash of allspice and nutmeg into the pan, and watched him as he leaned back in the chair, his face so mobile, so relaxed; she realized she was seeing a side of him that most people must not know about. She found herself talking easily to him as she prepared the drinks, as if she had known him for long years.

  “They’ve been in a pirate stage ever since Tommy read Treasure Island,” she said, pouring the drinks. “Everything is buried treasures and secret maps.” She placed a steaming mug in front of Drooms and took her seat.

  “I seem to remember a similar stage myself,” said Drooms. “I guess it’s something boys are drawn to. Going off, exploring the world, having adventures.”

  Lillian raised her glass mug. “To the seven seas!”

  “Here, here.” Drooms clinked his mug to hers and took a sip. He inhaled the fragrant drink and looked at the mug. “Very nice. I haven’t had a glass of this – in years.” After a moment, he smiled and took another sip. “It might help to melt off some of those icicles.”

  Lillian put her head in her hands and laughed. “Oh, that was just an impulse. That night I saw you standing out in the snow. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I guess I can be a little cold at times.”

  “A little? It took me two weeks to get the courage to say hello to you.”

  Drooms smiled and shrugged. “I don’t usually open up to people. A fault of mine.”

  “Ah, well. We all have faults. Though I almost gave up that day you snatched back your package from me.”

  Drooms chuckled, remembering his actions. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t.” Those words caused them both to sit quietly for a few moments.

  Then Drooms looked around and gestured to the Christmas decorations. “You have made it quite festive.”

  Lillian followed his gaze to the Christmas tree and stockings, the paper chains around the door frame, the snowflakes hanging in the windows. “It means a lot to the boys. We don’t have family around here so I try to make it special for them.”

  She was hoping her comment might spur Drooms to say something about his own family, but he remained silent. From the day she first saw him she had wondered if he’d ever been married or involved with anyone. She assumed he had always been a bachelor, but couldn’t be sure. She spoke casually before taking a sip from her mug.

  “Do – do you have family?”

  Drooms leaned back in his chair. “None of my own. I never married.”

  Lillian blushed to find that he interpreted her question so accurately.

  Drooms never spoke to anyone about his past, but he felt that he wanted her to know something of him. “I have family in the Midwest – but I’ve lost touch with them.”

  “What a shame. Is there no contact at all?”

  “Oh, cards at Christmas. That sort of thing.”

  Lillian felt sad to think that he was without family – she could hardly imagine it. “I miss my family terribly. My sister and her family live upstate so we don’t get to see each other very often. And Tom didn’t have much family, an aunt and uncle, a few cousins. It’s so nice to have family around – especially for the holidays.”

  She waited for him to respond but he simply smiled and looked over at the tree. Then she too examined the tree, with only a few presents under it; she thought of all the holiday preparations she still needed to do, and gave a deep sigh.

  “Each Christmas I try to make it the best one ever – but I never quite manage. The tree wouldn’t even be up if it weren’t for you. And it needs a new top ornament. I still have gifts to wrap, and I’ve barely started my Christmas baking.” In a softer voice she added, “And I seem to have a way of intruding on your evenings.”

  Drooms leaned forward and took her hand. “Not at all. Not at all.” He didn’t want her to feel bad about asking for his help, and the gesture to reach out to her had been completely spontaneous. But now that her warm hand was in his, he felt that some wall had finally crumbled between them. That simple, gentle touch was like the click of a key, finally unlocking a door. They held each other’s gaze, and slowly leaned in – Drooms surprised to find himself so easily following his heart, Lillian astonished that she felt such passion for him. She realized that she had been wanting to hold him from that first moment on the stairs.

  “Mommy, I’m cold,” came Gabriel’s sleepy voice from his bedroom.

  They smiled and reluctantly sat back. Lillian looked down at their linked hands, and slowly stood up. “I’ll get another blanket for him.”

  Drooms ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat as he waited for her to return. He felt exposed, as if his protective facade had fallen away. It was a new feeling, and he wasn’t sure if he liked feeling so vulnerable. But when he saw her come back, with that smile of hers, he knew that he was going to throw all caution to the wind.

  But the few moments with Gabriel had caused Lillian to pull back a little, to doubt herself – she didn’t always trust her highs and lows. Perhaps she was just seeing, hearing what she wanted. She would slow things down, try to see them clearly.

  “Gabriel’s fine now. I think he was dreaming.” She stood by the table and gestured towards his mug. “A warm-up?”

  Drooms lifted his glass. “Please.”

  She went to the stove, and refilled their mugs.

  He leaned back in his chair, seeming to understand her quietness. All he wanted was to be in her presence, to know her, listen to her. He asked her about her days in Brooklyn, and then about her youth. They soon fell right back into easy conversation, and for the next hour they sat comfortably, speaking freely of their lives. She described the various art classes she had taken, her young dreams of studying in Paris. He spoke of his years in the navy, of the places he had seen, and how he had settled in New York after the war. He recounted how he had built his business from a one-man show, to now having a staff of twelve. She told him of her years in the department store, and now at the switchboard, how she was going to brush up on her typing to get a better job, and perhaps try to get into the Art Department.

  “Yes, you really must get a portfolio together and take it around. There’s a quality to your work that is immediate, and stirring–”

  The clock from the mantle began to strike, seeming to go on forever, marking the lateness of the evening, and intruding on the
intimacy of their talk. A few moments of silence sat between them.

  Drooms spoke first. “Well. It’s getting late for you.” He pushed back his chair.

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” said Lillian.

  They stood and slowly walked to the door. Drooms rested his hand on the doorknob and turned to look at her. “Well.”

  “Well, thank you again for sitting with the boys. Blackbeard.”

  Drooms smiled. “Thanks for the rum. Matey.” He stood before her and beheld her face, wanting to take every detail with him: her smile with the tiniest suggestion of a dimple, the way her curls brushed against her shoulders, but most of all the softness in her eyes.

  “Good night, Mr. Drooms.” Lillian wanted to ask if he would stop by again tomorrow, and if not, then the next day and the next. But instead she simply smiled.

  Drooms opened the door, and hesitated before saying, “You can call me Charles, if you like.”

  “Charles,” Lillian said slowly, taking possession of it, as if she was cradling it in her hands. “And you can call me Lillian.”

  “Lillian.” Of course she would have such a lovely name. “Well, good night, Lillian.” He wanted to say it again and again.

  The door closed between them.

  They knew that having each other’s name brought them closer, was something they were taking with them that they didn’t have at the beginning of the evening. But they didn’t know that after saying goodnight, they both stood staring at the door between them, wanting what was on the other side.

  Lillian reached for the doorknob, then refrained; Drooms was about to knock, but pulled back. Lillian thought of the warmth of his hand in hers; Drooms remembered her sweet, low tones that soothed and caressed. Lillian took a step away, paused, then turned back to the door; Drooms almost placed his hand on the door, then once again changed his mind. Thirty seconds of mirrored desire and indecision passed between them.

  Then just as Drooms decided to knock, Lillian opened the door. They held each other’s gaze, took a step towards each other, and embraced slowly, sinking into the warmth of one another; layers and layers of a fit so perfect they could almost hear the click, click, click of a myriad tiny gears and locks finding and settling into each other.

  “Mommy, I wet the bed – it’s cold,” came Gabriel’s voice again.

  They slowly separated and looked into each other’s eyes. But it was all right. Something had already been sealed, confirmed, acknowledged. Nothing else mattered. Drooms put his hand on her cheek, and she covered it with her hand. They leaned into a long, slow kiss. When they separated, it was as though they were still embraced, still warm and full of each other.

  “Good night, Charles.” A sweet wave of tenderness washed over Lillian, and the future spread before her like a beautiful land.

  “Good night. Lillian.” Drooms left knowing that his life had changed.

  Chapter 11

  The following afternoon Lillian was in the middle of her Christmas baking. She wore her ruffled red and green Christmas apron and bustled about the kitchen, singing along with the radio. She didn’t want to appear too different to the boys, but she couldn’t forget that kiss, the warm embrace. She kept catching herself smiling as she remembered his hand in her hair, the gentleness in his voice when he said her name. When the song “Only Forever” came on she turned up the volume and tried to dance with the boys. She could usually count on at least Gabriel to play along, but today both boys were restless and wanted to go outside, and the more she laughed and tried to twirl around with them, the more impatient they became.

  “Can’t we go now, Mom?” asked Tommy. “I already read all my books, and if we don’t go now the library will close.”

  “Yeah, Mommy, I want to go outside. I need some more books, too.” Gabriel ran to get his coat and started to put it on.

  Lillian opened the oven, took out a batch of Christmas cookies, and set the cookie sheet on top of the stove. “If we can’t go today, we’ll go another day.”

  “But I already read–”

  “Now Tommy, what did I say? I can’t leave in the middle of baking.”

  Gabriel stomped his foot. “But Mommy–”

  “If you two don’t start behaving I won’t take you to see Santa tomorrow.”

  Gabriel gasped at this possibility. “Mommy, we have to see Santa to tell him what we want!”

  Tommy heard Mr. Drooms’s door open and close, and ran to look down the hall. “Hi, Mr. Drooms!”

  Gabriel also ran to the door and peeked out. “Hi, Mr. Drooms! Will you take us to the libary?”

  Drooms appeared in their doorway, dressed to go outside. He smiled at the boys, then at Lillian.

  But she didn’t want to cross any as yet to be determined boundary. “Boys! Stop that. You know better.” She went to the door, pulled the boys back inside, and widened her eyes at them in warning.

  Tommy relented. “Okay, okay.”

  Lillian flushed with pleasure as she gazed up at Charles. She had never seen him looking so handsome.

  “Hello, Lillian.”

  “Hello. Charles.”

  Tommy and Gabriel jerked back their heads, faced each other, and pronounced the name in one long, upturned question. “Charles?”

  Drooms covered Lillian’s embarrassment by inhaling a whiff of her cooking. “Something smells mighty good.”

  “Just doing some baking. You’re home early today?”

  Drooms was about to explain, but Gabriel stomped again, impatient with all this talking.

  “I want to go outside!”

  Lillian was about to reprimand him but Drooms spoke up. “I’m going out anyway to run a few errands. I don’t mind. And it looks like you could use some time alone.”

  She didn’t want to give in, but Drooms pressed his point. “They just have a touch of cabin fever. A little fresh air will do them good.”

  Gabriel let his whole body droop and put a hand to his head. “Please, Mommy, please? I have a cabin fever.”

  Tommy raised his eyebrows in hope.

  Lillian cast a side glance to Drooms who gave her a reassuring nod.

  “All right. But you boys are not to waylay Mr. Drooms like that. Do you understand?”

  “Yippee!” Gabriel held Drooms’s hand and smiled up at him.

  “Anything you say, Mom!” Tommy ran to get his coat.

  Lillian buttoned Gabriel’s coat and knelt down to pull his mittens over his hands.

  Tommy dashed past them and stood outside in the hall. “Come on! Bye, Mom.”

  Drooms and Lillian gazed at one another before they left. Lillian was filled with a happiness she hadn’t known in a long time; Drooms felt as if some heavy, stiff garment had finally fallen from him, and he was now light and mobile.

  Lillian called after them as she closed the door: “You two mind Charles, now!”

  Drooms froze and stared back at the closed door, his mouth open in surprise. She used the very words. Why did she have to say that? He felt his heart beating high in his chest, and felt all prickly with dread as he recalled those exact words from his mother, calling after him – the last time he ever saw her happy. “You two mind Charles, now!” And the twins, Sarah and Sam, holding his hands as they left for the woods to find their tree.

  Drooms stood rooted to the floor, unable to believe that he was in the same scenario, the very situation he had so carefully avoided all these years. Here he was again, in charge of two little lives. What had he been thinking? He knew not to open himself up like this. He knew, and yet he let it happen. A dark foreboding spread through him, crowding out the buoyant feelings of just a moment ago. He didn’t want to go on, but the boys pulled on his arms.

  Gabriel led the way down the stairs. “C’mon, Mr. Drooms!”

  “Hurry, Mr. Drooms, the library’s gonna close!” said Tommy.

  Drooms tried to shake off the feeling, telling himself that he was overreacting. He followed the boys down the stairs, but images from the past began to bubbl
e up. When Tommy opened the vestibule door, Drooms saw that it was snowing softly. He took firm hold of the boys’ hands. “I want you to hold my hand tightly when we’re outside. It might be slippery.”

  Tommy thought he was a little old for this, but he didn’t care, as long as they were outside. While they walked the boys chatted non-stop about snow forts and presents and Santa.

  But Drooms became increasingly distracted as memories began to string themselves together from that day in 1907. Tommy and Gabriel had the same bubbly excitement that he and the twins had started out with on their way to find their tree. The snow that day glistened in the sun from a sky that was pure, innocent blue. The scent of wood fire from the nearby farms added a hint of warmth to the cold, clear air. Once again, he heard the crunching of his boots as he traipsed through the snow, could feel the tiny resistance of the newly crusted snow as his boot broke through with each step. It was such a perfect winter day.

  “Look Charlie, the snow is full of sparkles,” said Sarah, as she let the glittering snow fall through her fingers.

  Sam had scooped up a bunch of snow and tossed it into the air. Then he threw a handful at Sarah, “Have some sparkles!”

  She chased him down and threw handfuls of snow at him. They were like playful puppies, throwing snow and giggling as they tumbled over each other.

  Drooms tried to stop the memories, push them back, away from him. He tried to listen to what the boys were saying, but when they passed The Red String Curio Store, they stopped and stared in the window. The day was conspiring against him, for in the window display was a set of women’s hair combs, so like the ones he had bought that Christmas for his sweetheart, Rachel. He had wrapped them in green print paper. Under the combs he had placed a poem for her – “sweet face, hair like lace, eyes of blue, heart so true…” – his imperfect attempt to tell her how he felt about her.

  Tommy and Gabriel ran to the window on the other side to look at the toys displayed for Christmas.