Christmas on Honeysuckle Lane

by Mary McDonough

  “But what about Andie?” he wondered. “It’s like she set out to do exactly what might make Mom and Dad disappointed in her. Well, at least until she made it big and they finally had to take notice.”

  “Andie did what she had to do. I don’t see her as a person who set out to rebel for the sake of rebellion. In fact, if I understand your sister, and I think that I do—thanks to Bob, mostly—her marrying when she did was a rebellion against her true nature. And that’s always the wrong thing to do.”

  Daniel looked at his wife with a combination of wonder and love. “You’re so much smarter than I am,” he said, leaning over to kiss her gently.

  “About some things, yes,” Anna Maria replied readily. “But this isn’t a competition, it’s a marriage.”

  “It’s a good marriage, isn’t it?” Daniel asked, and he could hear the slight note of worry in his voice.

  “Yes,” Anna Maria said. “It is. I’m happy.”

  “That makes two of us.” Daniel kissed his wife again and turned off his bedside lamp. He was a bit anxious about the memorial service the next morning. Would he break down? Would one of his sisters fail to show up? For a moment he wondered if he would actually be able to fall asleep. But then he felt Anna Maria take his hand in the dark and before he knew it his eyes were closing.

  CHAPTER 55

  The next morning found the Reynolds siblings along with Anna Maria gathered at the Unitarian Universalist Church, from where Cliff and Caro had been buried, and where Andie herself had been married. As they pulled into the parking lot, Andie had a sudden, distinct memory of her wedding day, how nervous Bob had looked, wearing a suit bought specially for the occasion, a white carnation in his buttonhole. Her mother had looked so proud and content, satisfied that she had successfully steered her older daughter in the right direction. And her father, well, Andie believed he had simply been happy.

  “You’re a million miles away again,” Emma said, opening her door.

  “I was visiting the past,” Andie told her. “It’s been happening a lot since I’ve been back. I don’t want to go there, but I do.”

  The sisters approached the imposing brick building that had gone up over a century and a half earlier as a private girls’ academy. After having been abandoned and left derelict for almost twenty years, it had finally been sold and converted to a mixed-use building; currently the church shared the space with a co-op of local artists. The sisters went inside and joined Daniel and Anna Maria. Daniel was wearing the suit he had worn at Caro’s funeral. Andie usually didn’t take notice of such things, but for some reason she remembered her brother’s suit.

  Reverend Fox greeted them, and when they had gathered around a small table on which had been placed three white candles, he said a prayer for Cliff and Caro Reynolds, as well as for the living members of the Reynolds family.

  “I’ll leave you alone now,” he said after the prayers, “as Daniel requested.” When his footsteps had died away, Daniel took the lighted taper from its holder and held it to the wick of one of the three white candles arranged in a row. Then he passed the taper to Emma, who lit the second candle and then handed the taper to Andie. When all three candles had been lit, their bright flames dancing in the relative darkness, Andie felt tears threaten.

  “Emma,” Daniel said quietly. “Why don’t you speak first?”

  Emma took a piece of paper from her bag and unfolded it. “I know Mom and Dad liked this poem by Christina Rossetti,” she said, “so I thought I’d read it aloud, rather than come up with something of my own I know would be inadequate.” She began in a soft but clear voice to read. Then she stopped for a moment and said, “I know these lines were Dad’s particular favorites.”

  Andie recited the lines silently as her sister continued to read aloud. “ ‘Nay, weights and measurements do us both a wrong. / For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine,’ / With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done, / For one is both and both are one in love. . . . ’ ”

  As Emma read through the final lines of the poem, Andie took her sister’s hand.

  “That was beautiful,” Daniel said, an unmistakable catch in his voice.

  “Danny?” Emma said. “Why don’t you speak next?”

  Daniel nodded and folded his hands before him. “I loved and respected my parents,” he began, “and they truly deserved love and respect. They were the most wonderful people I’ve ever known. I just hope that when my time comes I’ll be able to look back on my life and know that I lived up to their example.”

  “I know that you will, Danny,” Emma said. “Andie?”

  Andie cleared her throat. “I’d like to read a few words by the poet Rumi,” she said. “ ‘Good-byes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation.’ And to those words,” she went on, her voice trembling slightly, “I’d like to add that I’m forever grateful to my parents for the gift of life.”

  “Thanks, Andie. It’s not as good as getting to say the eulogy,” Daniel said. “But I hope this ceremony made up for it somewhat.”

  “Thank you, Danny,” Andie said gratefully. “It did.”

  And Andie hoped that this ceremony would help her brother shrug off the tension and unhappiness he so obviously had been carrying. But she remembered his words—that he hoped to live up to the example set by their parents—and wondered if her brother would ever be entirely free of a crippling sense of duty.

  “Let’s go to their graves,” Daniel suggested then. He led the others out of the church and to the small private cemetery on the lot next to the church building, where Cliff and Caro Reynolds were buried side by side. Neither, Andie remembered, had ever entertained the notion of cremation. Her mother had thought it vaguely pagan. “The Vikings burned their dead,” she had said often enough. “I’m a Christian, not a Viking.” Come to think of it, Andie couldn’t recall her father actually voicing an opinion on the subject. It was likely, she thought, that he had simply acceded to his wife’s wishes for an in-ground burial.

  The family stood in a half circle around the two marble headstones. Neither Cliff nor Caro had opted for a quote, just the dates they had been born and had died and the simple inscription LOVING HUSBAND AND FATHER, LOVING WIFE AND MOTHER. There was a certain dignity to the stones, Andie thought. She planned to be cremated when she passed and had left instructions for her ashes to be scattered to the winds, but she had no trouble understanding the very real need many people had for a physical memorial to their lives. My name was Cliff and I was here. My name was Caro and I, too, lived in this world.

  Daniel brushed a leaf off the top of his father’s stone. “I come here once a month,” he said. “It’s always well tended, but I like to be sure.”

  “Do you talk to them, Danny?” Emma asked.

  “Not when I’m here, no. I suppose that’s odd, because I do sometimes find myself talking to them, like when I’m watching one of Dad’s favorite movies or when I’m making a dish Mom used to ask for. I find myself saying things like, ‘This is the part you liked, Dad,’ and ‘Do you think the sauce came out a bit too thick, Mom?’ ” Daniel smiled. “Half the time I think I hear them answer.”

  “What about you, Andie?” Emma asked.

  “I talk to Dad sometimes,” Andie said. “I ask him questions about important things going on in my life. That’s definitely odd, because when he was alive I rarely, if ever, went to him for advice or input.”

  Anna Maria, silent until now, said, “Do you hear him reply? Do you feel he hears you?”

  Andie smiled. “Most times, yes.”

  “So, what about you, Emma?” Daniel asked. “Do you ever talk to Mom or Dad?”

  “No. I think about them, sure. But I don’t talk to them. I guess I don’t feel the need to.”

  But I do, Andie thought. Dad, she said, I’ve done something wrong. Not evil, not even irreparable, but misguided. The burden is weighing terribly on me and yet I can’t seem
to take the steps to throw it off.

  But this time, Andie couldn’t hear her father’s voice in reply. Perhaps it wasn’t there to be heard.

  “We have to get going,” Daniel said abruptly. “We’ve got a lunch gig at one. We’ll see you at the house this evening.” And with a wave, he and Anna Maria went off.

  Silently the two sisters walked back to Emma’s car. “You okay?” Emma asked as the sisters buckled themselves in.

  Andie made it a point to speak truthfully, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to tell Emma just how miserable and fraudulent she felt. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just fine.”

  CHAPTER 56

  Emma picked up her phone from where it sat on the kitchen counter. “It’s Morgan Shelby,” she told her sister. “I won’t be a moment.”

  Morgan was calling to tell her that he had found what he thought was a suitable auction house in Westminster. “It’s called R. W. Simons,” he said. “I could make an appointment for you to meet with them, if you like. And I could come with. Just remember to bring along a copy of the inventory your brother put together and any additional information on items you might have unearthed.”

  “Thanks, Morgan,” Emma said. “That would be great. I have no experience at all with auction houses. Having an expert along will lessen the anxiety.”

  Morgan promised to let her know the date and time of their appointment, and Emma ended the call.

  “Morgan found an auction house for us,” Emma told her sister, who was sitting at the kitchen table, her shoulders drooping. When Andie didn’t respond, Emma asked, “Andie? Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “An auction house. Good.”

  “Is there something else worrying you besides the situation with Rumi?” Emma asked gently. “You seem a bit preoccupied these past few days. A bit weary.”

  Andie smiled and sat up straighter in her chair. “No, I’m fine. I was just thinking about this morning’s service.”

  “It was nice, wasn’t it? I’m glad Danny organized it. It actually felt kind of healing. Funny, I hadn’t even realized I needed healing.”

  “We all need healing,” Andie said. And then, more quietly, she added, “Some of us more than others.”

  Emma let her sister’s comment pass. She didn’t believe for a moment that Andie’s mind was troubled by her daughter’s mood alone, but she had never been one to push for a confession. “I suppose we should get started organizing things for tonight,” she said. “Gathering all the photo albums and videos Danny’s so eager for us to see. We’ll have to divvy it all up when the house is sold unless one of us wants to be the archivist and hold on to the entire lot.” And if I decide to buy the house, she thought, it could all stay just where it is.

  “And we should start getting dinner ready.” Andie got up from the kitchen table and went to the fridge. “Daniel seemed a little dubious when you suggested we just eat leftovers.”

  Emma laughed. “What’s he worried about? He made most of the food! All we’re doing is heating what needs to be heated.”

  “You know Danny,” Andie said. “He needs to be in charge.”

  “Poor guy. It must really wear him down sometimes.”

  “Yes, but it might be a good thing in terms of his business,” Andie commented with a wry smile. “Unless he drives Anna Maria and the staff up the wall with his perfectionism.”

  “I hope not. How about we eat dinner in the kitchen and then afterward we can go into the living room to watch the videos on the big screen TV.”

  “Sounds good.” Andie opened a plastic container that held a good portion of ratatouille. “For some reason, I have absolutely no appetite. Oh, well.” Andie put the lid back on the container and set it on the counter. “Maybe I’ll drop a pound or two. Mom would be pleased.”

  Emma turned away to take plates off a shelf over the microwave. No doubt about it, she thought worriedly. Something big is bothering my sister.

  CHAPTER 57

  “The casserole didn’t hold up as well as it might have,” Daniel said with a frown. “Did you remember to heat it at three hundred and fifty for twenty minutes?”

  “Yes, Danny,” Emma said. “And I thought it was as delicious tonight as it was the other evening.”

  Daniel shrugged. “At least there was enough to go around.”

  As it had been at the morning’s ceremony, only the Reynolds siblings and Anna Maria were gathered. Bob was spending the evening with his brother while Rumi had taken Sophia and Marco to see one of those lavish animated Christmas movies that popped up every year.

  Daniel poured himself another glass of wine and went over to the old VCR. “This is labeled First Day of School,” he said, choosing one of the videotapes onto which his parents had long ago had the old family films transferred. “Let’s give it a go.”

  After inserting the tape into the machine and pressing the play button on the ancient remote, Daniel took a seat in his father’s favorite chair.

  “This is original,” Anna Maria noted immediately. “Not an old transferred film. Look! It’s Daniel! Oh, you were so cute!”

  Daniel felt himself blush. “I was pretty adorable, wasn’t I?”

  There were about four minutes of Daniel, dressed in shorts with a striped T-shirt neatly tucked into the waistband, standing outside the grammar school, waving to the camera with one hand and clutching a small backpack with the other. The rest of the tape, they discovered, was blank.

  Emma laughed. “Well, my first day of school doesn’t seem to be here, or Andie’s. You always were Mom’s favorite, Danny.”

  Daniel didn’t refute his sister’s observation; it was, after all, the truth. Instead, he got up and chose another and then another of the videotapes, and for the next forty minutes the past was once again alive before their eyes. And as he watched the birthday parties and Christmases long gone, as he was presented with the faces of those now dead—not only his parents but their parents as well—Daniel felt the small degree of calm and release he had achieved that morning at the memorial ceremony fade away, and in its place came into his heart a sharp pain of loss. Daniel poured himself another glass of wine and drank it greedily.

  “It’s like after I turned ten I disappeared,” Andie was saying. “Except for that split second of my high school graduation.”

  “I remember someone taking video at your wedding, Andie,” Emma told her. “It must be on one of these tapes somewhere.”

  “Caro stopped taking pictures of any kind when Cliff died,” Anna Maria put in, “and I suspect nothing has been organized properly since then. After Andie mentioned Caro’s wearing a tiara at a costume party, I went looking for a picture to show Sophia, but I couldn’t find anything.”

  “Look,” Daniel directed loudly. He drained his glass of what little wine was left and raised the volume. “Here’s Anna Maria’s and my wedding reception. There’s Mom dancing with my best man, Sam. She looked absolutely gorgeous.”

  “Not as gorgeous as your bride,” Emma pointed out. “That was such a lovely gown, Anna Maria.”

  “I was the third person in my family to wear it! The first was my cousin Lisa, and the second was my sister Gabriella.”

  “Your first dance as husband and wife. ‘Sea of Love.’ ” Andie shook her head. “You know, sometimes I can’t even remember what song Bob and I danced to.”

  “Don’t let Rumi hear that,” Daniel said shortly.

  “No,” Andie said. “I won’t.”

  “Gabriella made such a funny maid of honor toast.” Emma looked over at Daniel. “Do you remember it, Danny?”

  But Daniel ignored his sister’s question. The video was now showing Andie talking with one of Anna Maria’s aunts. As the cameraperson approached, both women smiled and waved.

  “What was that you were wearing, anyway?” Daniel asked his sister. “It looks like a silly costume out of a silent film about some ancient desert sheik!”

  “Daniel,” Anna Maria said sharply. “It does not.
I thought it was lovely, Andie.”

  “Thanks. It was a gift from a fellow student in my meditation class at the time,” Andie explained. “She was also studying dressmaking methods from around the world.”

  Daniel laughed. “Well, you certainly stood out. But look,” he said, pointing to the TV screen. “How cute is Rumi, dancing with her father. You were just about to leave Oliver’s Well for good, right, Andie? And I don’t think you saw any of us again for almost two years.” Daniel raised his wineglass to his mouth before realizing it was empty. And I doubt, he thought, she ever thought much about us, either.

  Emma laughed. “Ooops,” she said. “Whoever Mom and Dad hired to put these videos together had a continuity problem. Here’s your wedding shower, Anna Maria!”

  Daniel frowned. A wedding shower that neither Emma nor Andie bothered to attend. Andie had gone off to take a ten-day course in some arcane and useless topic in the wilds of Pennsylvania. And Emma had cancelled at the last minute, claiming a case of the flu. More like a case of something more interesting on her social calendar, Daniel thought. A party for some visiting corporate bigwig or free tickets to an opening night at the ballet.

  “You guys really should have been at the shower,” he said, vaguely aware that he was speaking loudly. “It should have been a priority. I know Mom was embarrassed that neither of her daughters was there.”

  “That’s all in the past,” Anna Maria said quickly, smiling at Andie and Emma and putting the video on hold. “Though you guys did miss some awesome food. My uncle Dominic is famous in my family for his cassata cake. We usually only have it at Easter, but as it’s my favorite and it was a special occasion . . .”

  “Here,” Daniel said, picking up and passing an open album to his sisters. “Look at these.” The photos pasted to the pages showed Cliff and Caro dressed to the nines, clearly heading out for a formal event. “Doesn’t Mom look elegant?”

  “Who took these?” Andie asked, looking up at Daniel. “I must have left Oliver’s Well by the time these photos were taken.”