by A M Heath
Granny tsked. “You didn’t seem to mind her when y’all were younger.”
“Younger. But things have changed, Granny, and I’d rather her not be here all the time.”
Granny eyed me for a minute then shrugged. “Too bad, Sanford. Hunter, Mia, and Natalie are part of my crew. When you signed on to celebrate Christmas with me every day, you signed on to celebrate with my whole crew.”
I rolled my eyes as far back into my skull as I could. First for my Granny, who was closer to ninety than twenty, using the word crew, and then for her insistence that I had to spend time with Natalie. “I wasn’t aware that Natalie was part of the deal when I agreed.”
Again Granny shrugged. “Too bad, too late.” She returned to her cocoa preparations, but, at my sigh, she whipped around. “Now look here. You and Natalie both used to spend nearly every day here at my house.”
I gritted my teeth but said nothing.
“You stopped coming around, but she never did. I’m not going to kick the poor girl out now because you’re back and don’t want her around. She never asked for you to leave.”
“I’m sure she’d rather if I did.”
Granny glared at me. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Besides, Sanford, you know she doesn’t have any family. Now learn to play nice or forfeit.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and exhaled. “Fine.”
“Good.” She turned away again and bustled about the kitchen.
Moments later, the front door opened, and I gritted my teeth again. Natalie.
“Merry Christmas!” she called out as she entered the kitchen.
I glared all the harder at her but said nothing.
She angled her head at me as if to question my silence.
“It’s not Christmas Day,” I said flatly.
She laughed as if I had said a joke instead of a fact. “You are such a Scrooge.”
I rolled my eyes at her.
She turned instead to Granny. “Merry Christmas,” she repeated.
Granny hugged her. “Merry Christmas, dear. Oh, you’re wearing your necklace.” Granny fingered the miniature bells that Natalie had strung together the night we made the wreaths.
Natalie turned back to me, an expectant look in her eyes. If she thought I was going to return the Christmas greeting, she was going to be sadly mistaken.
When she continued to stare at me, I answered, “Bah humbug.”
She burst out in laughter, the kind that could warm a body from the inside out. I scowled at her to ward off her kind of warmth.
I turned back to Granny, having had enough of Natalie’s wide grin that brought back memories I didn’t want to return. “So what’s on the agenda today, Granny?”
She grinned at me from over her shoulder. “Cocoa.”
“Naturally,” I grumbled.
“The fireplace and an old home movie.”
I massaged my forehead and scraped a hand down my face. “Sounds lovely.”
“Good,” she said with a pointed smile.
“What is today’s recipe? And why do I smell coffee?” Natalie asked, edging closer to Granny.
She turned back to face us both. “I think y’all are going to love this. We’re going to add a packet of cocoa to our coffee today. And Hunter will just have to deal with packet cocoa and marshmallows.”
I raised a concerned brow but said nothing.
Natalie raised two impressed brows. “Ooo, sounds interesting. Can we still put marshmallows in ours?”
Granny shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Except for the Grinch there,” she said, pointing to me.
I sent her a twisted smile, then pulled in a fortifying breath through my nose.
Moments later, the fire was crackling, we were sipping a surprisingly good cup of cocoa coffee, and Granny had just slipped in an old VHS tape. She had to be the only person left on the planet who still owned a VCR, but I didn’t comment. However, when the video focused in and showed us dressed to the nines in our high school gym, I sat up straight, sloshing a bit of coffee on my pullover. “Seriously! Nobody wants to see this!”
“I do,” Hunter chimed in.
I sent him a seething look.
“See,” Granny said with a shrug. “I want to see it, too. What about you, Natalie?”
I cut my eyes to her.
She shifted on her seat but wouldn’t hold my gaze. “Maybe just for a few minutes.”
“Fine,” I ground out. “Can we cut it off after the senior walk?”
Granny fingered her hair. “I suppose.”
The senior walk hadn’t started yet, so there were dolled-up dancing couples swaying on the screen. Soon, every senior in the building would be paraded one by one in front of everyone. It was the perfect opportunity for parents, like my own who would stay until after the walk, to snap pictures. My eyes immediately zoomed in on me and Kelly, dancing in the corner.
“Where are you, Natalie?” Hunter asked.
“Umm … There.” She pointed herself out where she spun in and out of camera range with her date. I almost smiled. Almost. I hadn’t seen high school Natalie in so long. I never revisited our yearbooks or photographs. She had the same light brown hair and kind eyes. She had been the same soft-spoken girl then that she was now. But the styles had changed. She was no longer as gangling thin as she had been. She wore a magenta gown and jeweled clips in her hair. She was cute, if I dared to think so. My gaze slowly traveled to the woman across the living room. No bejeweled clips in her hair, just a messy bun. No magenta gown and fake nails. Just a green sweater, jingle bell necklace, skinny jeans, her boots beside the recliner, and her feet curled up beneath her. And her smile. The same sweet smile of my old friend still graced her face as she watched the screen and the images of friends long forgotten.
I shifted on my seat, so as to not see her so directly, and put my attention back on the screen. The things that once were, could never be again. As if to prove the point, the camera zoomed in on me and Kelly, wrapped in an embrace and slowly dancing to some boy band love song. A little longer and the video would be turned off, and I could leave the visions of my past in the past where they belonged.
Stave Three
“He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see.”
Natalie:
One, two, three, four, and five. “Good. Get ready and we’ll do it again.”
Yolanda nodded and swiped the dish towel across the wall, her arm extended over her head while I silently counted.
“You’re doing great. Is this exercise bothering you?”
There was a pause before the middle-aged woman said, “No, this one is easier on my joints.”
“Good. One more time.” I silently counted while my heart sighed in relief. I hated to see my patients suffering, especially when it was my duty to do something about it.
Yolanda dropped her arm and set the towel down on the table. She looked at me expectantly.
“We’re all done. Do you want your ice before you leave?”
“Yes, please! That’s my favorite part.”
I chuckled and waved her into a seat. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, digging out a book to read while she sat with the ice pack.
Moments later, I had her positioned onto the adjustable table, ice on her arm and timer set. I smiled as I exited the room to check on the teen with a sports injury. Thank you, Lord. The ability to heal is a gift only You possess, and I thank You for allowing me to have a small role in it. As they always did, my thoughts turned to Sanford. I couldn’t hand him a towel to wave above his head or lead him on the bike to bring about his healing, but I prayed all the more that the Lord would move there as well. But try as I might, he didn’t seem to be budging all that much.
I scurried into Ms. Carol’s kitchen and slid into my seat at the table, pulling off my jacket as I did so.
“I believe the Ghost of Christmas Past has done her job, and now we turn to the Ghost of Christmas Present.” She ended with her palms spread out as if to present Mia and Hunter.
“So what’s the plan?” Mia asked.
“We’re going to focus on things we can do for others right now. Baking cookies to give away to those in service. That sort of thing.”
“What about The Ghost of Christmas Future?” Hunter asked, leaning forward.
Ms. Carol aimed her grin to me. “Natalie will be our Ghost of Christmas Future.”
I swallowed and ignored the flush that flowed through my body. I had always hoped to be Sanford’s future, but that was before Kelly stole his attention … then bruised his heart so badly he didn’t want to get close to anyone again.
“But what will we do?” I asked, fear stealing any idea of joy in the process.
Ms. Carol sighed. “I’m still thinking that one through. But we have time.”
I nodded and swallowed my lump of trepidation.
“What flavor of cocoa will it be today, Granny?” Sanford asked, striding through the kitchen door.
I jumped in my seat and jerked my gaze to Sanford, but his eyes were locked on Ms. Carol’s. I melted in the seat, then cut my eyes to Mia and Hunter. The three of us exchanged relieved expressions. We had almost been caught talking about our plan, but Ms. Carol was as smooth as oil.
“White chocolate.”
Sanford stood still and considered her words, a frown still in place. “I suppose I can try it.”
“But what are we doing today, Granny?” Hunter asked.
“Oh, yes.” She pointed to Hunter, then a cabinet. “Pull down the sprinkle bin. We’re going to bake and decorate cookies. Then tomorrow, we’ll drive around town and deliver them to those in service.”
“Like firefighters and police officers?” Mia asked, grinning from ear to ear.
“Yes … but I know of another family who bakes and delivers to them, so I thought we’d go somewhere else. Let’s think of those in service who are often overlooked.”
“Like who?” Hunter asked.
I slid my gaze to Sanford. He wasn’t looking in my direction, but for once he wasn’t frowning. He looked curious.
“What about the road work crew?” I asked. “There’s been a crew working to repair the road and water lines across town.”
Sanford sent me a side grin. “And we can take them some cocoa since it’s cold out.”
Ms. Carol beamed. “Great idea, you two! Now, who else?”
I shrugged. “I think any night shift worker.”
Ms. Carol nodded. “We could visit the nursing home and take something to those working at night.”
“Janitors are overlooked.”
“Good thinking,” Ms. Carol said, pointing to Hunter.
“We have a day and night shift crews at our school.” Mia sat a little taller.
“We could make them individual bags and deliver them,” I added.
I looked up at Sanford, and this time he was nodding along, almost smiling. Almost.
“I love these ideas. Let’s get the cookies started, and we can keep talking about it.”
Ms. Carol once again divided up the jobs, and I found myself working alongside Sanford as we mixed batches of dough until we were both covered in flour.
I snuck a glance at him and spotted flour in his beard. I didn’t attempt to wipe it away, no matter how much my fingers ached to reach up and brush against his velvety scruff. Despite my willingness to keep my hands to myself, I couldn’t keep my gaze from trailing back to the white powder in his beard.
“What?” Sanford asked, his eyes not meeting mine.
“Umm. You have some flour on your face.”
When he turned to me, I wiggled my finger near his cheek.
A dark heat filled his gaze, but he didn’t move to erase the flour.
I held his study, our words from two nights ago filling the space around us.
I heard the low groan at the bottom of his throat. “I have to be here, Natalie.”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“I don’t really hate Christmas like everyone thinks.”
I lifted a brow and sent him an incredulous look.
Sanford rolled his eyes. “I don’t. I just … wanted to get away from certain things.”
My stomach swirled. Me. I was as much on his list of things to steer clear of as the Christmas tree and Kelly were. I waited with bated breath for him to tell me to go away. That he’d finish this without me.
I pulled my lips in and held them, still waiting but not wanting him to continue.
He pulled in a breath and let it out in a rush. “Look. I’m not going to lie and say that what you did years ago didn’t hurt me, because it did. I’m not gonna say–”
“Have you not forgiven me?”
Sanford blinked his surprise, just as I was rocked by my outburst. I hadn’t meant to interrupt him.
He stared at me for a long moment. “I have. But just because I forgive you doesn’t mean I want to be put in the same position again.”
“Are you sure you’ve forgiven me at all?”
There was a pause before he nodded. “I don’t wish you ill, Natalie, I just don’t want to go back to where I was.” He shifted his weight. “You’re going to keep coming, aren’t you?”
I flicked my eyes down, then back to his. “Yes.”
He sucked in another deep breath but let this one out slower. “Yeah, well, … I just wanted to tell you that I’m willing to get along. I mean, we still have twenty-one days left of this, so I’d rather just be civil than to fight again.”
I didn’t restrain the smile pulling at the edges of my lips.
He sent me a smirk. “This doesn’t mean your patience won out. I just want to get through the month, alright?”
“Sure,” I said, my grin growing wider and wider still.
“Truce?” he asked, hand held out.
I fit my palm to his, a sizzling curl shooting from his simple touch. “Truce.”
He dropped his hold as quickly as he could, not even giving our hands more than a partial pump.
“Umm, Sanford?”
“What?”
I pointed to his cheek. “You still have flour on your face.”
He grunted and made quick swipes at his face. “Better?”
Better would have been letting me wipe it off. But I only nodded and accepted the baby steps forward. A truce and a partial shake of the hands was far better contact than we’d had the last six years. If God had moved him this far in ten days, what would the rest of the month do for him? In the beginning, it had seemed more hopeful than possible, but our Christmas Ghost intervention was actually helping him.
Sanford reached into our mixing bowl and pinched the dough ball, popping a bite into his mouth.
I watched him, eyes wide.
He leveled his gaze on me. After a silent stare-off, he whispered, “Go ahead. You know you want to.”
I bit back my smile. “Are you going to tattle on me if I do?” Hunter and Mia had been caught stealing raw dough and fussed at for it, so we had been warned away, but the temptation was getting stronger.
Sanford smirked, then shrugged. “I just did it, didn’t I?”
Suddenly we felt like the old companions we once were. I enjoyed the comradery so much that I pinched off my own bite and tossed it in my mouth.
Sanford turned his face away. “Granny!”
I jerked my head to him, mouth open.
He silently chuckled. The mirth on his face was a sight to see, even if it was aimed at me. He kept his smiling eyes glued to mine while he spoke to his grandmother. “We’re finished with another one. Do you want us to continue?” He shot a wink at me, then looked at her to await the answer.
&nb
sp; She consulted her list. “Just one more, dear.”
We turned back to our mixer. I nudged him with my shoulder and gave him a sideways grin.
He nudged me back, a smile on his lips. And for one brief moment, we were the old Natalie and Sanford. Oh, Lord, please let it last.
Sanford:
Hunter walked past me down the toy aisle, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets and a bored look on his face. Mia skipped ahead of him, fingering various dolls along the way.
Natalie sidled up beside me. She leaned in just slightly, yet a yard closer than I wanted her, and whispered, “He looks so much like you, it’s not even funny.”
“Is that so?” I sent her a smirk. Good or bad, the boy did favor me, just as he would have his own father. The thought pinched. Losing loved ones, no matter how they left, never got easier.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Natalie stop and pick up a stuffed puppy.
She spun around, holding the dog up for me to see. “What do you think?”
I could only nod. I couldn’t explain the tightness in my chest or why when she looked at me just then I felt off-balance.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You’re frowning again.”
I snorted. “Force of habit.”
She chuckled, light and airy, but I held mine back. “Here,” she said, thrusting the stuffed dog into my crossed arms. “Maybe he’ll cheer you up.” Natalie turned back to the toys lining the shelves. “Now, what else would a nine-year-old girl like?”
I put my attention back on the task at hand. Shopping for underprivileged children wasn’t an easy task. Buying the perfect gift for a stranger never was. And not only was this our task for the day, but it was something I really wanted to do, to make a difference in the three children we were assigned. “What about one of those dress-up gowns? Girls still like those, don’t they?”
She beamed a bright smile in my direction, then darted to the display near the end of the aisle. “Which one should we get her?”
I shrugged as I stopped behind Natalie, who busily thumbed through the massive collection. “Which one would you want?”
