This Christmas

by Olivia Miles

  Jeff was waiting for them at the entrance to the lot with two steaming paper cups. “Cider,” he said, extending his hand. Tess noticed a third cup resting on the windowsill of the little shed that served as the checkout stand.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking her cup. She took a sip. It was warm and spicy and it made her feel a little better. Or maybe she just felt better because Jeff was here. Another adult. Another person fighting through each day.

  “Glad you came,” he said, giving her a long, knowing look that might have made Tess feel ashamed with anyone else. But Jeff got it. They’d suffered together, from that first, awful, shocking night when Jeff called to tell her the news. A skiing accident. Of all things. A freak accident on the very mountain where Andrew had learned to ski as a child. Where he’d taught Phoebe to ski. He probably didn’t even feel anything. He was gone on impact. There was nothing that Jeff could do. Nothing that anyone could have done.

  Jeff had come over that night, wracked with guilt and apology and confusion and sadness and anger and every other emotion a human being could process. And they’d cried long and hard, and they’d figured out what to do, what to tell Phoebe, and she’d talked to Phoebe, herself, because that’s what a mother should do, and she had to be strong. But she was only able to get through it because she knew that Jeff was downstairs. That he was waiting. That he, too, felt the enormity of Andrew’s loss.

  And then came the feelings. So many feelings. The wake and the funeral and the casseroles. And then the casseroles stopped. Everyone moved on. Maybe they expected her to as well.

  But not Jeff. Because Jeff knew her. And he knew Andrew. And they were all each other had now.

  “I’m glad I came too,” she said, giving him a small smile. The sparkle in Phoebe’s eyes was worth it. “But I can’t admit that this is easy.”

  “This is going to be a nice Christmas,” Jeff said quietly.

  She eyed him ruefully. “It’s going to be the worst Christmas ever, Jeff. Don’t try to convince me otherwise.”

  He gave her a sad smile, but didn’t argue, at least. They began to move through the rows of trees, Phoebe running up ahead, pointing to each one she saw, liking each one better than the last.

  “You know, this is my first time doing this,” Jeff surprised her by saying, and Tess gave him a funny look.

  “You mean you don’t put up a Christmas tree?”

  He shrugged. “When I was a kid, but we had one of those fake, plastic things.”

  “Something in common, then.” She took another sip of her cider. No sense in thinking of those days. She had her own life. The one she’d built herself. Except it had all come crashing down around her.

  “We have a lot in common,” he said, giving her a knowing look.

  She gave him a sad smile, and then decided to shift away from upsetting topics. “You decorate the restaurant, though.”

  “Professional requirement. But I don’t see much point in decorating a tree just for me,” Jeff said. “So this is a new adventure.”

  A new adventure. That was certainly an optimistic spin on things, not that she was arguing.

  “I found one!” Phoebe ran up to them excitedly, her smile so wide that she was showing off the gap where she’d lost a tooth just last week. Tess had needed to steel herself from the reminder that it was Andrew’s turn to play tooth fairy this time.

  “Already?” Jeff frowned. “But we haven’t even walked the lot.” He sounded almost disappointed.

  “That’s because you and Mommy walk too slowly. I found the best tree, so hurry up!” She stared at them, her dark eyes wide. “Hurry up!”

  “I guess we’d better hurry up,” Tess whispered to Jeff, laughing.

  They increased their pace, but not by much; the crowds made that impossible. Phoebe’s bright pink coat was easy to spot through the evergreens and white snow and sea of dark, dreary shades of blue and black winter coats.

  They came to a stop, and Tess felt her heart sink. Phoebe was standing next to the biggest tree in the lot. Of course she was. A huge smile extended up to her shining eyes as she held a branch with propriety.

  Tess would have to let her down. Again. And more and more, she hated letting Phoebe down. Oh, why couldn’t she have chosen a simple tree? Something small but pretty? Something that wasn’t towering up to the sky and probably cost a small fortune to boot.

  Because she was eight years old. And it was Christmas.

  “I don’t think that will fit in our house, honey,” she said, but Phoebe’s smile didn’t fade.

  “Sure it will. We have high ceilings in the front living room.”

  Tess tried another tactic. “Yes, but the doors, honey.” She walked to the tree and glanced at the price tag, her eyes bulging. “And it’s a lot of money for something we’re only to going to keep up for a week or so.”

  Phoebe nodded but she was blinking rapidly and her lips were pinched to hold back her emotions. Tess swallowed a sigh, wishing just now that they had never come. That she’d grabbed something small from outside the grocery store instead. This was a proper tree lot. Where they used to get their tree. When things were different.

  Of course, if Andrew were here he would have taken control of the situation, told her that was far too big and led her over to an aisle of more reasonably sized options. He was always so good with Phoebe.

  And right now, even though this was something as silly as a tree that would be gone in a week if she had any say in the matter, she wished he was here to help her out.

  A flash of anger, sudden and sharp, pierced her. It happened every once in a while, when she opened the mortgage bill or Phoebe came home from school crying because someone had said something to upset her, something about a father-daughter event that made her feel left out. Why’d you have to go night skiing? Why’d you have to go so fast? Why’d you have to take the steepest path?

  He was always a daredevil when it came to skiing, and she’d loved that side of him, the side that wasn’t the straight-laced accountant—the mountain was the one place he let loose. She loved the mischievous gleam he would get in his eye when he talked about hitting the slopes, loved the boyish side it brought out, even when he was a grown man. But he wasn’t just a man. He was a husband. A father. Why’d you have to be so irresponsible? Why’d you have to leave us?

  Jeff was watching her, and without a word, he stepped forward, gave the tree a silent, but rather dramatic inspection, and declared, “The needles are all falling off.”

  Phoebe’s eyes popped in alarm. “They are?”

  “Yep.” Jeff tossed up his hands. “Good thing we spotted this. Don’t think you want all the ornaments falling off it while you’re sleeping.” He pointed to a row of fat spruces, all about six feet high. “Now those over there are good, strong trees. Why don’t you pick your favorite?”

  Tess gave Jeff a long look. “Thank you,” she said, fighting off the impatience that had built up inside her.

  “Not a problem. It’s not easy, I know. Well, I don’t know, since I don’t have kids, but…”

  “But nothing. Thank you. For…everything.”

  He reached out and squeezed her elbow, a simple, easy gesture, but one that couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

  Trudy Flannigan, Andrew’s mother’s oldest friend, was watching them with a look of alarm.

  “Hello, Mrs. Flannigan,” Tess said, smiling at the older woman. She hadn’t seen Trudy in quite some time, not since Trudy had dropped off two pot pies that she promised would freeze well. They were still in Tess’s freezer. Her appetite just wasn’t what it used to be. Besides, they seemed far too large for just herself and Phoebe.

  Trudy looked from Jeff to Tess, and blinked. “Tess. And Jeff. So nice to see you both.” But her voice was pert, and her tone, Tess thought, was judgmental.

  “Nice to see you too,” Jeff said good-naturedly. He took a swig of his cider and grinned.

  Tess glanced at him. He appeared not to feel any of the awkwardne
ss that she did, and maybe she should take her cue from him. After all, they were just two old friends at a tree lot. It was Christmas. It wasn’t scandalous.

  Only, from the look on Trudy’s face, it appeared that it was.

  Guilt reared its ugly head, and Tess thought of Andrew, walking through the lot just a year ago, with Phoebe’s hand in his, Tess snapping pictures as she did every year, and then framing the best one to place on their mantle, beside a plate of cookies they would leave out for Santa, but which Andrew would eat before Phoebe was even asleep, because he never could resist sweets.

  “Phoebe’s just over there,” Tess said, motioning to the row of trees where Phoebe had wandered. “She’s selecting our tree. Jeff here was happy enough to help us set it up.”

  “They have a service for that,” Trudy said, narrowing her eyes slightly.

  “Do they? I wasn’t aware.” A white lie, but she felt she deserved it under the circumstances. “Andrew—” She stopped herself. She’d almost said that Andrew always took care of it for her.

  Jeff cleared his throat. She felt him glance over at her, even though her eyes were now firmly on the snow-covered ground beneath her feet.

  “Well, we should probably let you get back to finding your tree before they’re all gone. Have a merry Christmas, Trudy,” Jeff said.

  “You too,” Trudy replied in a steely voice.

  Tess turned toward the row of trees where her daughter was waiting and felt the sudden need to leave. Immediately.

  “I guess we’ll take the tree then,” she said, not even feigning enthusiasm.

  “We can decorate it together,” Jeff said, giving her a little nudge. “It’ll be fun.”

  Only something in his eyes told her that he was forcing his feelings just as much as she did with Phoebe these days. There was no fun in decorating this Christmas.

  Except for Phoebe.

  Jeff carried the tree into the house and set it up in the center of the big, front bay window where it had always gone, since Tess and Andrew had first moved into the house, more than ten years ago.

  Tess and Phoebe stood back and gave him instructions. A little to the left. An inch to the right. Now it needed to go left again.

  By the end, they were all laughing, and the tree…the tree looked perfect. Even Tess had been forced to admit it.

  “Let’s decorate it!” Phoebe said excitedly.

  Jeff lifted an eyebrow in question, taking Tess’s lead rather than pushing the matter. She had hoped to just put up a string of lights. Maybe a few of the paper ornaments that Phoebe had made in school. But seeing her daughter’s expectant face confirmed that none of that was really an option.

  “I’ll get the ornaments out of the attic,” she said wearily, sparking a peal of delight from Phoebe.

  “I can get them,” Jeff offered.

  Tess gave him a look of gratitude. “I’ll make hot chocolate,” she offered. She may as well, she figured. If they were going to do it, they may as well do it right. Marshmallows and all. “The boxes are clearly labeled,” she told Jeff, who was already heading down the hall to the stairs.

  He tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “I never doubted it.”

  Tess shook her head as she walked into the kitchen and started the preparations for the hot chocolate. It was a grey, winter day, and it was already growing dark, even though it wasn’t late, and from the window in the kitchen she could see the backs of neighbors’ houses. The trees lighting up their living rooms. The glow coming from outdoor lights that were covered in a thick blanket of snow.

  She set a pot on the stove and filled it with milk, setting the burner on low so she wouldn’t have to hover too closely.

  In the living room, Jeff had already returned with one box, and from his lack of presence, she could only assume that he’d gone off in search of more.

  “We start with the lights,” Tess reminded Phoebe, when she began hanging her favorite ornaments, on the lowest branches of course. Several branches already contained more than one ornament, which would be spread out later, when Phoebe didn’t notice.

  Or maybe Tess would leave them this year. After all, what did it matter? She’d had the perfect house. Perfect tree. Perfect family. And now…

  “And why is that?” Jeff interrupted her dark thoughts as he came to the bottom of the stairs, carrying two large plastic containers stacked on top of each other. “Why start with the lights?”

  Tess reached for the top one and set it on the area rug. “You really haven’t decorated a tree in a long time.”

  “Nope. And I’m out of practice. Besides, most of the time, my sisters took over decorating the tree. I was usually more interested in what was left under it.” He winked at Phoebe.

  “I can show you how to do it,” Phoebe sighed, giving her mother a look that said, Do you believe this?

  Tess and Jeff exchanged a secret smile and Tess left to check on the milk, hoping it hadn’t already started to boil, listening to Phoebe expertly advise Jeff where to start with the lights and to first be sure that none had burned out. She’d been paying attention, all those years, Tess realized. Building up knowledge. Memories. Memories of Andrew.

  The milk had just started to simmer, so Tess added the chocolate and stirred it until it was melted. It smelled rich and sweet, and the house was warm with the faintest scent of pine. And for a moment, everything felt right in the world.

  Except when she thought of the look on Trudy Flannigan’s face at the tree lot.

  Guilt twisted in her stomach and she pushed it aside, flicked off the burner and called out, “Who wants hot chocolate?”

  “Me!” came two voices, one small and high-pitched, the other deep and strong.

  It could have just as easily been Andrew’s voice, calling out from the other room, but it wasn’t, it was someone else’s. And how would Andrew feel about that?

  Happy, she decided. He’d want to know that his wife and his best friend were taking some comfort in each other. That she wasn’t alone. That there was a reprieve, something to look forward to every now and again.

  He’d have wanted Jeff to be there for them. Expected it, really. Jeff was more than a friend, after all. He was family.

  Closer to her than her own family in many ways, she thought, as she carried a tray with three mugs and a bowl of marshmallows into the living room and set it on the coffee table. The lights were already up on the tree. They definitely weren’t distributed as evenly as she might have preferred, and in years past she would have spent another hour perfecting them before the ornaments went up. Today, though, she found that it didn’t matter to her anymore. Phoebe was smiling, her eyes alive and bright, and they had a tree. And it didn’t crush her to see it there, the way she had feared.

  Tonight, when Jeff was gone and Phoebe was asleep and all that remained was the big empty house, then maybe it might. She decided to turn off its lights right after Phoebe went to bed.

  It was all about management. One day at a time. And Christmas Day…that was a big hurdle.

  “Your phone’s blinking,” Jeff told her.

  Tess leaned forward with curiosity, her heart picking up speed when she considered it could be news from the job interview. But then she remembered that it was Saturday, and a week before Christmas, and that she’d only interviewed yesterday. The world didn’t operate that quickly, even though so much could change so suddenly.

  “My sister called,” she said, frowning at the screen. She hadn’t even heard it ring. She’d learned to turn off the ringer when Phoebe was with her. To shut out the rest of the world.

  Jeff gave her a knowing look as he readjusted the string of lights. “The one…”

  She shook her head. She knew exactly how he was going to finish that question. The one who didn’t come to Andrew’s funeral?

  No. That one knew better than to call Tess. And she hadn’t. Not since Tess had told her that if she didn’t come to the funeral, she shouldn’t come back to Winter Lake, ever. She’d spoken in the
heat of emotion, of course, when her nerves were raw and she wasn’t sleeping or eating and the slightest thing, good or bad, felt like something enormous. Only her sister not coming to her husband’s funeral was enormous. And unforgiveable.

  But as the months passed, sometimes Tess didn’t know where the hurt rested anymore. Was she angry at her sister for not coming, or sad that they had reached this place in their relationship, or disappointed that there hadn’t been reconciliation in all this time?

  She sipped her hot chocolate. She didn’t need to think about any of this now. It wouldn’t make a difference. Carrie had made her choices. And now they were both living with the consequences.

  “Jules calls all the time,” Tess said. “I’ll call her later.”

  Another round of guilt brewed to the surface. Jules did call, it was true, but Tess rarely returned the calls—she didn’t always have the patience for it. Jules was young, and reckless, and painfully irresponsible. She didn’t understand the meaning of responsibility. She’d never held a full-time job from what Tess knew. No pets. No kids. No husband. And she certainly wasn’t moving in the direction of having any of those things. Her apartment was small, it was rented, and she didn’t own a car. She had nothing to her name. And she was fine with that.

  And this…well, this had always been the gap between them. Jules couldn’t understand why Tess couldn’t talk at dinnertime, or after dinnertime. And Tess couldn’t imagine having so much free time that to be busy would actually be incomprehensible! For so many years, their relationship had been more like mother and child than sisters, but then Tess had her own child, and Jules…well, it was high time for Jules to grow up!

  Jules meant well, Tess knew that. But she also had the creeping sensation that she was letting Jules down, and she was already worried enough about letting her own daughter down, and then she felt more worried and more guilty and more fed up with Jules for needing her and more fed up with herself for not being able to protect her or to fix Jules’s life.

  She couldn’t worry about everyone, Andrew used to tell her, even though she felt like somehow, she was supposed to.