by Tonya Kappes
She continued to push for me to come home.
“Aunt Grace,” I had to stop her when I remembered Bo on the other line. “Can you hold on?”
I clicked back over.
“Bo, I’m sorry. My aunt is on the other line.”
“Bo? Who’s Bo?” Aunt Grace questioned me.
I looked at the phone and sighed. He hung up.
Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.
~Norman Peale
“We Wish You a Merry Christmas, We Wish You A Merry Christmas…”
I looked out my peephole to find a group of carolers standing near the elevator in traditional costumes holding candles and song books.
Pressing my hand up against the door, I leaned my head on it. Why did I do this to myself every year? Why did I hold everyone at arm’s length this time of the year? My parents wouldn’t want me to live this way. Besides, if Aunt Grace couldn’t afford Christmas, I could. And I could take it to her.
An urge to see Aunt Grace caused me to rush back to my room and throw on comfy driving clothes, stuff a couple pair of jeans, a couple sweaters in a bag. I needed extra clothes in case I wasn’t able to make it home with the snow coming down the way it is.
I jumped in my car, and I headed straight to down the interstate. Sam was right, Andrea was right, everyone was right. Aunt Grace was my family. Christmas wasn’t about money or gifts. It was about spending time with family, the ones you loved and who loved you back.
Aunt Grace took me in when there was no one. She had always been there for me, even when her good ideas turned out to be a fiasco.
The five-hour, well Uncle Jimmy was right, four-hour drive back to Cincinnati wasn’t bad with all the stations playing Christmas music. With cheer bubbling to get out, I belted out Jingle Bells right along-side Frank Sinatra. I pulled into the Cracker Barrel ten minutes away from Aunt Grace’s, ordered turkey dinners to go, and got back on the road.
The snow fell and quietly and blanketed the interstate. I looked in my rear-view mirror at the tire tracks my car was leaving behind, almost as if they are breadcrumbs marking my way back home. But the snow was so heavy and the tracks quickly disappear.
My stomach filled with butterflies when I thought about Aunt Grace’s face, and the surprise I was about to spring on her.
Cincinnati was deserted. Everyone was enjoying the holiday with his or her families. I scanned the interstate for a tree. “It’s tradition,” Aunt Grace said year after year when I’d protest about going with Uncle Jimmy to find one.
A string of Christmas lights reflected off the snow as I turned down a street near Aunt Grace’s. I squinted at the small sign.
“Christmas Tree Lot,” I read out loud. It must be fate.
The lot had one straggly little tree. I rolled down my window and shouted to the grey-haired gentleman sitting in the chair next to the fire pit, “Merry Christmas.” I parked my car and opened my door.
“Merry Christmas.” He stood up and rubbed his hands together as if to warm them.
“I can’t believe you’re open.”
“I have one left, and I know someone needs this nice little tree.” His teeth glistened under his wide grin and long silver beard.
Mesmerized, I smiled back and said, “That person must be me.” My spirit began to fill up and my heart skittered with joy.
“You must be.” He laughed so hard his stomach jiggled around, reminding me of a bowl full of jelly.
He quickly untied the tree from the line and hoisted it onto the roof of my Solara.
“Thank you so much.” I reached for my wallet to pay him. “I’m going to surprise my aunt. She’s going to love it.”
I didn’t care if she didn’t have any decorations. We could make them out of leaves and popcorn, just like old times.
“No, no.” The jolly man put his hand, stopping me. “You and your aunt have a Merry Christmas.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Now go and enjoy your Christmas.” He opened my car door and I got in. Before he shut it, he said, “Merry Christmas, Hallie.”
I looked up and he was gone. The twinkling lights were gone. The sign was gone. I opened my car door, got out and looked on top of my car. The tree was still there, looking a little fuller than it had before. The falling snow started to cover it.
“Hello?” I yelled.
Where did he go in broad daylight? There was no way he had time to gather his stuff and get out of here. I rubbed my eyes and opened them, knowing I was going to see the tree lot when I reopened them. But nothing. Everything was gone.
I snickered, blowing it off. I must be loopy from driving so fast. I glanced back to the tree on top my car and touched it.
“Ouch.” I put my finger in my mouth to stop the bleeding from the prickly pine. I shivered brushing off what just happened and quickly got back in the car and make my way towards Aunt Grace’s.
Luckily I found a parking spot in front of Aunt Grace’s building. I cut the tree strings with my keys and carried the tree up to her apartment.
I knocked on the door and stuck the tree in front of me to hide my face.
“Merry Christmas.” Aunt Grace sang as she opened the door to greet whoever was standing there. “Oh, my heavens, a tree!”
“Merry Christmas.” I leaned the tree away from my face. “Merry Christmas, Aunt Grace.”
“Jimmy, come here!” She clasped her hands together in delight, and then threw her arms around me. “It’s Hallie!”
I glanced over her shoulder at Jimmy nodding, but not taking his eyes off the football game playing on the television.
After she let go, she opened the door to make enough room for the tree and me.
“I’m so glad you are here.” She hugged me again after I stood the tree up in the corner of the room.
“And I brought food.” I held up the Cracker Barrel bag. “Turkey dinner.”
Aunt Grace hurried into her kitchen and brought back a pile of paper plates and a big black garbage bag. She stuck her hand in the black bag and pulled out a fistful of leaves. She beamed. “Here.”
Tears welled up in my eyes.
“I picked some up off the streets just in case you came home.” Aunt Grace gracefully sat down in her lazy boy.
“Hell, she’s been saving them for years,” Uncle Jimmy said, ever so nonchalantly reminding me that I hadn’t been home for Christmas in years.
“I’m glad you did.” I walked over and patted her hand resting on the arm of her chair. “And I’m so happy I came today.”
“It’s the best Christmas present ever.”
“The holidays are all about spending time with the ones you love, and I love you.” I squatted next to her chair and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I think it’s time to start a new tradition.”
“We only have one of those.” Uncle Jimmy pointed to the tree. “You failed at that this year, so I guess we do need a new one. What is it?”
“You’re going to have to put up with me every Christmas.” I beamed. Party invitation or no party invitation, I’m exactly where I wanted to be.
We settled in with our warm turkey dinners and turn the TV to the black and white version of The Christmas Carol. I looked over at my aunt, her eyes twinkled with joy.
The three of us sat in front of the TV watching Miracle on 34th Street while stringing the leaves and popcorn. We had the garland finished and around the tree before the movie was over.
I noticed the message light blinking on my phone.
“Excuse me, Aunt Grace.” I stepped into the hallway so I could check my messages. I was sure it was Lucy, Prudence or Georgia calling to wish me a Merry Christmas.
The voice on the message caught me off guard. I turned the volume up so I didn’t miss a single word.
“Hallie, where are you?” Bo questioned. “I thought you might be coming to the party since you’re in town. Well, maybe you had other plans.”
Other
plans? I had no plans! I couldn’t believe he called. I truly thought he had invited me over the phone when he realized he told the whole running group and it might get back to me. I really thought he asked out of obligation.
“Hopefully you can make it next year.” He hung up.
“Next year,” I said, turning the phone off.
I walked back into Aunt Grace’s apartment where she’s standing in front of the Christmas tree holding a small package.
Her grin danced around her face, causing the wrinkles around her eyes to deepen.
I took the gift and unwrapped it. I noticed the tape had turned yellow as if it had been there for a long time.
I looked at Aunt Grace’s face.
“What is it?” I held the small box. I knew she didn’t have the money to spend, and I’d never expected her to buy me anything.
She whispered, “Open it.”
I opened the lid to find a small locket on a thin chain. Carefully I lifted the chain and the locket dangled. Aunt Grace pried the locket open with her fingernail and turned it towards me. There was the smallest picture inside.
“Oh, Aunt Grace.” A tear trickled down my cheek when I noticed the picture was of my mom, Aunt Grace, and me at Christmas when I was a baby. “Are you sure you want me to have this?”
She took the chain, swung it over my head, and clasped it around my neck.
“Yes. It’s been waiting for you.”
A memory came flooding over me. I was sitting in Aunt Grace’s lap at my parent’s funeral.
I turned to her, I asked, “Did you wear this to the funeral?” I ran my fingers over the locket, now resting on my chest.
“I did and I want you to have it.” She reached out and touched the locket. “You’re growing up, Hallie. And I think your heart is starting to open up again.”
I looked out the window at the snow covered street and thought about Bo’s message. Only twenty-four hours ago I would have jumped at the chance to be invited to his Christmas party only to be around him. I’m glad I didn’t get the invitation. He was right—there was always next year. But I knew I would be right here stringing leaves and popcorn, with a little cheer in my spirit.
The man in a red suit outside Aunt Grace’s building caught my eye. He looked up at me and smiled. I waved to him. It was the same man from the tree lot, only now he was dressed like Santa.
“Aunt Grace, look it’s the guy I bought the tree from.” I pointed out the window.
She walked over. “Where?” Aunt Grace turned her head back and forth, glancing out at the snow-covered street. “I don’t see anyone.”
I glanced back out the window with Aunt Grace standing behind me, and he was gone. Just like he disappeared at the tree lot. I closed my eyes and shook my head. There was no way this happened twice.
Aunt Grace peered over my shoulder and looked out into the empty street. “I’m glad you’re here.” She squeezed my arms.
I leaned my head back and rested it against hers. “There’s no place I’d rather be this Christmas. There’s no place like home.”
“Snowplace?” Uncle Jimmy questioned from his Lazyboy.
“No place!” Aunt Grace shook her head and joked, “Maybe Santa can bring him hearing aids.”
“There is snowplace like home,” I joked, turning around looking at the tree, the presents, and the empty plates. My heart was full. My soul had been filled up. My faith had been restored.
Christmas ... is not an eternal event at all, but a piece of one's home that one carries in one's heart. ~ Freye Stark
Driving five hours—yes it took all five hours—back to Chicago on Christmas night was something I hadn’t planned. I’ll get back in time to get in bed, only to get wake up for work in the morning, but it was worth it. Seeing Aunt Grace’s face was priceless, just like the locket she had given me. All the shenanigans I had to put up when I was a child…well, we’ll revisit later…all disappeared when she opened the door.
The snow was falling at a steady rate and the interstate ahead of me gave me plenty of time to think about Bo and what was in my future.
I turned the radio up when I heard Judy Garland singing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. A shooting star caught my eye.
Funny, I’d never seen a shooting star with a blinking red light. I slowed down to get a better look, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was the same silver-haired tree lot salesman.
Merry Christmas!
If you loved SNOWPLACE LIKE HOME, please keep reading to enjoy the first chapter of Carpe Bead ‘em, the follow up novel with all the characters you loved in Snowplace Like Home.
Chapter One
Groaning, I squeeze the pillow over my ears. Please…even that doesn’t muffle the ringing phone. Blinking into the darkness, I heave the pillow across the room and grab my clock.
What the hell?
I shake it to make sure I’m seeing the real time.
Two-fifteen. In the morning.
Are you kidding me?
The ringing stops for a few seconds and I think…pray that it's over. But then it starts again.
Argh…no. I squint trying to focus on the Caller ID without messing up my cocoon of blankets.
Aunt Grace.
Enough said.
I reach for the phone, but stop. Does she really need me this time? My fingers stretch closer. What if it is an emergency? My fingers retract. No. What…what if it’s just like every other time? All the time she called to shoot the breeze in the middle of the night.
One more ring and the answering machine picks up. I can’t do it. I can’t ignore her call. I close my eyes, pick up and press on.
“Hello, Aunt Grace.” Three words in, and I am already exhausted with this conversation.
“You are psychic just like your mother. I swear you even sound like her,” Aunt Grace said.
Well, Great Aunt Grace, really! Ninety-two years old and I swear she’s going to outlive all her relatives—if I don’t kill her first. Not that there are many of us left. After my parents died, it was just her and me. I guess I owe her.
“I wanted to tell you about this fine young man I think you’ll like.” She acts like it’s three in the afternoon. Doesn’t she realize it is in the middle of the night? I can tell where this is going.
“Aunt Grace, can’t this wait until the morning? Better yet, why don’t I come for a visit?” I plead.
I try to see her every six or eight weeks. It’s the least I can do. Well, the least I can do for myself. I live almost five hours from Cincinnati, in Chicago, and she still continues to call in the middle of the night. Distance and time are irrelevant when it strikes her fancy to call me. At least I can control my trips back to Cincinnati.
“It can’t wait until tomorrow, and I don’t want you to drive here this time of the night.”
“That’s good. At least you know what time it is. I’ll call you tomorrow about this guy.” I’m afraid her mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be. Not that it was ever that sharp.
“Of course I know the time. I just finished playing cards with the girls down the hall.”
“Down the hall?” Aunt Grace owns an apartment building in one of the seedier areas of downtown Cincinnati.
“You know. The girls who rent from me. Besides aren’t you in Chicago?”
A calm but eerie feeling comes over me. Thank God, she remembers where I live. Some nights she calls and thinks I’m dodging her when I try to explain how I can’t just pop over to visit.
“Besides, aren’t you in Chicago?” She repeats.
“Yes, Aunt Grace. I still live in Chicago. I have a long run in the morning. I need all the sleep I can get.” Across the room, the doorknob turns. My eyes bulge. With the phone cradled between my shoulder and ear, I clap my hands.
There’s nothing better than The Clapper for someone who is scared of the dark. Someone like me. If someone is going to rob me or kill me, I want to see them or at least be able to say, “Here Mr. Robber Killer, take whatev
er you want. I don’t need it.”
Aunt Grace is rambling on about Inas winning the first round of gin rummy. I hardly register it.
“Who’s there?” I hiss towards my bedroom door.
“Hallie,” a voice says to me. “We live on the fifty-first floor. Who do you think it is?”
I practically faint from relief. The intruder happens to be Lucy, my roommate and best friend. She claps after she opens the door, turning the lights off.
I groan. Lucy still looks good in the middle of the night with her ash blonde hair pulled back. Her turquoise eyes stand out even more without make-up on.
“Getting robbed is virtually impossible unless someone freaks out in our building.” Lucy snickers.
“Clap them back on!” I scream into the dark.
I don’t give a shit that it’s Lucy and not Freddy Freaking Nightmare On Elm Street. If I lived in Fort Knox, I would still be afraid of the dark. Lucy and I continue to clap my lights on and off until the room feels like a disco.
Finally, her long lean legs carry her five-foot-nine-inch frame out of my bedroom, ending the clapping feud.
“What’s going on, Hallie?” Aunt Grace croons through the phone.
My head spins in confusion. Aunt Grace is humming a tune from the musical Chicago...another one of her quirks...she just breaks out in tune. No words, just humming.
“If Aunt Grace wakes me up with her calls, then I want to make sure you stay up.” Lucy walks back in the room, and continues to clap.
“Hallie? What’s going on? Do I need to kick some…?”
“No, no, Aunt Grace.” I have to interrupt her because if she starts cursing, she doesn’t stop. “It’s only Lucy.”
I put my pillow over my head.
“That crazy superstitious girl you met in college?”
“Yes, Aunt Grace. The same Lucy that was my college roommate and is still my roommate.”
My patience is running thin. “Goodnight.”
“Hallie, wait. I still haven’t told you about the young man.” There is pride in her voice. “He’s Italian.”
