Merriest Christmas Ever

by Betty Jo Schuler

  “I’ll see you when I get back,” he said, squeezing her arm.

  He couldn’t wait to go. She could see him breezing back to pick up Kirsten and their things, and then breezing out again. Headed for the Big Apple to live, he’d stop by for another quick farewell. “When are you leaving?”

  “Tom needs my answer ASAP. I’ll tie up loose ends at the office tomorrow, and catch an evening flight. I’m spending Friday with Kirsten, taking her Christmas shopping and to The Nutcracker Suite, so I’ll fly back Thursday night.” Merett tipped Gracie’s chin and kissed her quickly. “I won’t come in. If I did, I couldn’t settle for kisses.”

  If he didn’t leave quickly, she was going to cry, or cling to him and beg him not to leave. But he had to go. He had to put this thing about New York behind him, or he’d never be free to move on completely. She was bitterly afraid of losing him, but he’d come a long way, and the final destination was his to choose. Like Faith and Hope, he had wings of his own. “Goodbye, Merett.”

  “I’ll be back, you know.”

  She nodded. “Have a good trip.”

  “Take care of yourself, Gracie.” He held her for a moment. Tightly. Then, dropping a kiss on her hair, he left, running down the steps toward his Jeep.

  * * *

  Gracie was surprised when Harry Bradmoore called her Monday morning. “You have to catch Merett before he takes off today, and see if you can get through to him. He was miserable in New York before, and will be again.”

  Miserable? “Then why does he want to move back?”

  Harry sighed. “Merett hasn’t known what he wanted since Holly died. He went to New York to make her happy, but missed home and family. He’s a small town boy with a big heart, and the only reason he’d go back is to prove he can make good there. But he could just as well make good here, and be happy. I can’t lose him, and Kirsten, not after losing Alice to that dreadful illness. Call him. Go down there if you have to. But please stop him.”

  He’d said goodbye without hesitation, and broken her heart. “What makes you think I can?”

  “My son’s in love with you. He’s just too blasted stubborn to admit it, even to himself. Especially to himself. But I thought you knew.”

  When Merett asked if she’d ever wanted to live in New York, for one crazy minute she’d thought he was going to ask her to move there with him. And she might have. She cared that much. But he was only looking for a travel companion to help him face the ghosts of the past. “I told him to go, Harry. There are things he needs to work out, and you and I can’t do it for him. He has to reach this decision on his own.”

  * * *

  “Grace? This is Mark.” It was evening, and Gracie was sitting on the piano bench, staring at the silent keys, when the phone rang for the fourth time, and the answering machine kicked on. She hadn’t answered because she didn’t feel like talking to anyone.

  “Linda’s in labor, for real. We’re at Ferndale General.”

  Gracie nearly stumbled over Spook in the dark hall. She grabbed up the receiver. “Mark? Are you there?”

  “We’re in the birthing room. They’re prepping Linda for delivery.” There was a murmured conversation on his end of the line. “She said to tell you to forget having kids. Labor is hell.”

  An hour later, when Gracie saw her at the hospital, Linda had changed her tune.

  “Birth is life’s greatest miracle, and she’s worth every danged pain I suffered through.” After spouting every cliché Gracie had ever heard, her best friend beamed down at her newborn girl. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  Gracie agreed, touching the tiny rosebud face. “What are you going to name her?”

  “Merry Grace. Merry, spelled with an ‘e’ and two “r’s’ is for the season, and Grace for my dearest friend.”

  Gracie cried for the second time that night, but these were happy tears. If she never had a child of her own, she had a namesake.

  * * *

  When Merett arrived in New York, he took a cab to the part of the city where he used to work, and coat collar up against the biting wind, walked the streets. The flash of neon lights, the beckon of billboards, and roar of traffic still excited him, but not as much, in the ever-present shadow of the despair he’d almost forgotten. The homeless, druggies, and prostitutes were still there. So were the graffiti-covered walls, crumbling curbstones, and emaciated dogs knocking over garbage cans in alleys that reeked of alcohol and urine. It wrenched his heart and turned his stomach.

  When he was finally able to hail another taxi, he was whisked—brakes squealing, cabbie cursing—past the theaters and department stores Holly had loved, past the towering office building housing the City Times, to the neighborhood where he and Holly used to live.

  The winds didn’t seem as cold there.

  Merett walked by their apartment building, the market where they had shopped, and the movie house. He stopped by the stand where he had bought his morning paper, and felt disappointed to see a different vendor. Sauntering on to the coffee shop he used to visit in the early morning and sometimes late at night, Merett stopped again.

  Maybe it was then—when he stood gazing through the steamy window between letters that spelled ‘Hot Coffee’ at good old Gus, the owner—that Merett had the epiphany Gracie thought he’d experienced earlier. Or maybe it was when Gus pumped his hand and gave him coffee and pie on the house, just because he was glad to see him. Whenever… At some point, Merett knew he was happy to be in the old neighborhood again. Not in New York City, but back in familiar territory with people he knew, and who knew him.

  Gracie had said something much like that about being back in a small town, and he’d scoffed, but he’d been wrong. Those things were important to him.

  Merett talked to the doorman at their old apartment building, ate salami on rye at Nickerson’s Deli, and walked through Central Park in the snow. Then he dropped by the City Times to talk to Waldo. The paper had gone to press, and the editor waved Merett into his office. Merett took the seat he offered, but refused the cup of coffee. “Tom told me you said I was a valuable employee.”

  Waldo raised his bushy eyebrows, lit a cigar, and studied Merett curiously.

  “You never promoted me.”

  “And did Tom explain that to you?”

  “Not to my satisfaction. I want your story, Waldo.”

  “Damned in-laws. I couldn’t find a better spot. That’s the truth of the matter.”

  “I worked hard, waiting, promising Holly.”

  Waldo bowed his head, clenched the edge of his desk. “I felt so rotten that even though I didn’t want to lose you, I was going to send you out in the field to run a small paper I bought on my own. A daily in Ohio. Probably similar to the paper you run now.”

  Merett began to sweat. The smoke from that damned stogie was choking him. He coughed. He mopped his brow. The job wouldn’t have been exactly what he wanted, but it would have made him feel a helluva lot better to know Waldo trusted him that much.

  “Tom tell you that?”

  Merett shook his head.

  “It was right after you went home for your thirtieth birthday, and you seemed like you’d had such a great time, I thought you might like the small town atmosphere. And I knew you’d do a fine job with my investment. I got so damned excited, and thinking it would make a dandy belated birthday present, I planned to make a big deal of it. Dinner with me and Doris and you and Holly. Me making the announcement over a toast.”

  Merett’s heart pounded so hard that he thought he might have a heart attack.

  “I called Holly. You know how women are about special occasions. I thought she’d like to choose the place. And…” Waldo’s grin faded. Taking a deep breath, he sat back to study Merett’s face. “I hope this isn’t bothering you, but you deserve to know…Holly said she couldn’t face living in a small town again.”

  Merett’s heart stopped pounding. He held his chest, fearing it had stopped altogether. Did heart attacks happen like that?


  “Naturally, I couldn’t make you the offer after that. I wanted to do you and me a favor, not break up your marriage and our friendship. Holly asked me not to mention it. She said it would be better if you didn’t know.”

  Merett had never felt so betrayed in all his life. He’d blamed himself for failing Holly, and she’d helped prevent his success.

  Waldo pulled a bottle of Scotch out of a drawer, and handed it to Merett. “You look pale, boy. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you, but it’s been eating me. I wanted you to know I cared, but my hands were tied.”

  Merett stared at the Scotch, remembering how he’d tried to drown in a bottle after Holly died. He didn’t know if he would have taken the job, knowing Holly wanted to stay in the city, but he would have known his work was good enough, that he was respected. He handed the bottle back without taking a drink, but shook Waldo’s hand. He’d told him what he needed to know, to turn down Tom and Dixon-Pope. Merett had nothing to prove by staying in New York City.

  When he left to have dinner with Tom, he knew he wouldn’t tell him about his conversation with Waldo. He might never tell anyone. But he was glad he made the trip, and laid the past to rest. Someday, he’d come back to New York for a visit, and hopefully, not alone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Twenty-four hours had passed since Merett’s scheduled arrival home, and Gracie hadn’t heard from him. Was Merett really unhappy when he lived in New York? Would he be happy there now? Did he love her, even a little? She ran her fingers lightly over the piano keys. The piano hadn’t played for days. Its first tune had come into her life the same day as Merett. Maybe the magic player missed him as much as she did. She’d been miserable ever since he left, afraid he would decide to move. Not phoning proved her suspicions were right, and he was too cowardly to tell her.

  “Mirabelle?” she whispered to the empty room. “I could use a happy tune.”

  She was turning into a loony, talking to imaginary specters. She wanted to tell Merett she couldn’t go to the Reporter’s party with him tomorrow night, but it might be too soon to call. He and Kirsten might not be home from Christmas shopping yet. If she waited too long, they’d leave for the ballet. Deciding she needed something to do, she gathered some presents to wrap, and sat cross-legged under the Christmas tree. She’d bought Merry Grace tiny red corduroy shoes with furry white trim, and for Hope’s baby-to-be, a pale yellow romper suit. Aunt. Godmother. But never Mother.

  Had Mom and Pop ever been eager to have kids? Ever been glad they had them? Lying back on the floor, staring into the fragrant branches of her ornament-bedecked tree, Gracie tried to recapture a happy memory from her childhood...and came up with one. It was a balmy day when Mom, Pop, Grace, and Hope held hands, walking four abreast to Miller’s Dairy Bar. It was Hope’s second birthday, and they ate ice cream cones sitting on a bench outside. Hope’s melted and dribbled down the front of her, and she tried to lick it off, and their parents laughed. Mom had a silvery laugh that sounded like tinkling bells. Pop’s was raspy, like a record that’s been played until it’s worn out.

  Not long afterward, Pop lost his job, and Mom became depressed. A few years later, Faith was born, and after that, Mom never laughed again. She said she was sick, but Gracie thought she didn’t try to feel good, so she used to give her pep talks. Pep talks? At such an early age? Maybe she was an optimist before she met Merett. Maybe she didn’t get all her hope from him. If he left...when he left...maybe she’d be all right. No. No maybes about it. She’d stood alone before, and could do it again.

  But she loved Merett, and hoped she wouldn’t have to.

  * * *

  “Daddy, this is the mostest fun we ever had,” Kirsten exclaimed, as they sat down to lunch at a cafeteria in Washington Square Mall. “We bought a lot of gifts. Only I still haven’t bought anything for Gracie, and it’s important to find her something good. She has a whole bunch of presents for me under her tree.” Kirsten paused, chicken leg halfway to her mouth. “And two for you.”

  “Only two, and you get a bunch? Does that mean you’re more umportant than me?” Merett asked, pushing out his lower lip.

  Kirsten giggled happily. It was late when he had gotten home last night, and she was already asleep, but he’d kissed her anyway, and she had smiled. This morning, she’d been so eager to start their shopping trip that they hadn’t had time to talk. “How is Gracie?” he asked.

  “Happy. Linda had a baby, and named it after her. Merry Grace. Merry like in merry Christmas, and Grace for her best friend. Hope’s going to have a baby, too, did you know that? Gracie wants her and Frank to come over Christmas Eve, but they’re going to his parents’ house to tell them about the baby, and take Christmas presents. I told her we might come over so she wouldn’t be alone, and she said we didn’t have to. She might just buy some Christmas presents and food, and take them to somebody who’s lonely.”

  A lump formed in Merett’s throat. “Maybe you and I could go with her.”

  “Really?” Kirsten’s dark eyes sparkled.

  Merett nodded. “If she’d let us.”

  “She will. She’s really nice. I love her.”

  His daughter stated it so easily and matter-of-factly. Why did love come so hard to grownups?

  “Do you?”

  “What?”

  “Love her, silly.”

  “You don’t call your father silly,” he said sternly.

  “You’re just changing the subject because you don’t want to admit it.”

  Maybe Kirsten was right, he thought, as they shopped after lunch. Ever since his visit to the City Times, he’d thought of little else except coming home, but was he ready to put his feelings for Gracie into words? “Buy Gracie whatever you want. I’ll pay for it.”

  “A diamond ring?” Kirsten asked, grabbing his coat sleeve. “I’ll bet she’d abslutely love a diamond ring.”

  “Ab-so-lute-ly,” Merett corrected automatically.

  Kirsten wasn’t listening. She’d spotted a periwinkle cashmere sweater. “Oh, it feels good, and it’s the color of Gracie’s eyes. Can I get her that?”

  “It’s perfect for her,” he said.

  A gold Minnie Mouse pin caught Kirsten’s eye next. Then she found a rose-flowered silk journal. “Gracie can write in this when she sees Mirabelle, and stuff like that.”

  “Has Gracie seen Mirabelle? I thought you were the only one.”

  “So far I am, but she will.”

  A red dress with a flowing calf-length skirt caught Merett’s eye, and he bought it, after finding a salesgirl who looked about Gracie’s size. And when the girl held up a tiny red-sequined jacket she said would go well with the dress, he bought it, too. Before he got out of the store, he bought a little black evening bag he chose himself.

  The more he bought Gracie, the more he wanted to buy. He chose a gold pen, a satin neck scarf, and a silky blue robe. When he picked out some silly slippers that looked like Tweety Bird, Kirsten giggled. “Spook will pounce on those.”

  Merett almost put them back, but he didn’t.

  “There. That’s enough shopping,” Kirsten said, pulling him along toward a candy-striped house in the middle of the mall. “As soon as I talk to Santa Claus, I’m ready to go home and get dressed for The Nutcracker Suite, unless you’d like to get a fudge sundae with whipped cream and a cherry.”

  They were passing a jewelry store, and he stopped to look at a case where a solitaire diamond set in a wide gold band sparkled in the store lights. Gracie had long, slender fingers.

  “Oh, oh, oh!” Kirsten clapped her hands. “That’s be-yoo-ti-ful. Gracie would love it.”

  Merett wasn’t even sure Gracie was speaking to him. She’d told him to go to New York, but he didn’t think she was happy he went. “That’s an engagement ring. When you give it to a woman, it means you’re asking her to marry you.”

  “That’s okay. I think Gracie truly wants to be our mommy.”

  “What makes you say that?” Merett’s sharp tone was due mo
re to his own thoughts than Kirsten’s comment.

  “She likes you a lot; I asked her. And she likes me, too. And she goes moony-eyed whenever she talks about Linda’s baby, so I asked her if she wanted one. I thought if she did, we could have a big family.”

  Merett gaped at his daughter. “You asked Gracie if she wanted a baby?”

  “Yes, and she said no. It was something she should have done when she was younger. So if she truly doesn’t want to have a baby, I guess she could just have me. I was born when she was younger. Are you going to buy her the ring?”

  Merett took a moment to digest all that information. Running his fingers through his hair, he moved away from the store window. “Gracie might like me, but that doesn’t mean she loves me.”

  Kirsten caught his hand. “She almost cried every time I talked about you while you were gone.”

  She’d missed him, and he’d missed her.

  “I think she loves you, Daddy.”

  Maybe she did, and maybe he loved her. Maybe? He smiled and grabbed Kirsten’s hand. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind he loved Gracie, but buying a ring without telling her first was putting the cart before the horse. “Let’s get that sundae, Kirsten.”

  “What about the diamond?”

  He stared at it through the glass. “Maybe Santa will bring her one.”

  * * *

  Merett was standing in the library at home, already wearing his topcoat, when he phoned Gracie. Her sweet “Hello, Gracie speaking,” made his heart race. He couldn’t wait to see her, touch her; tell her he loved her.

  “Hello? Special Effects. Is anyone there?”

  “I called to apologize. Kirsten and I were just ready to leave for the ballet, when I remembered you wanted to take lessons. I should have asked you to The Nutcracker Suite, Gracie.”