Comfort and Joy

by Judith Arnold

  “If this is the best, it’s pretty damned good,” the young man said, his eyes glowing with gratitude. “Gracias, Mr. Lawson. My mother, she’s gonna love this, she’ll make us a big feast. Gracias! Felice Navidad!”

  Jesse mumbled something unintelligible, then took Robin’s hand and escorted her down the hall to the stairs. He wouldn’t dare to say “Merry Christmas,” she thought, amused. If he did, someone might actually think he believed in what he was doing.

  “Can’t we take the elevator?” she asked as Jesse began climbing to the second floor.

  “It’s broken,” he told her.

  Bracing herself for the steep climb, she inhaled and followed him up the long stairway, glad that she only had one basket to carry.

  On the second floor, Jesse knocked on another door. A wizened, elderly woman cracked it open, squinting at him above the chain lock. Satisfied by his familiarity, she closed the door to release the chain, then opened it a few inches more. “What is it, Lawson?” she asked suspiciously. “You got our settlement money?”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s a long way off, Mrs. Stokes,” Jesse said apologetically. “What I’ve got is some food for tomorrow.”

  The woman turned her dubious gaze to the basket Jesse extended to her. “Hmph,” she muttered. “What am I supposed to do with the basket?”

  Jesse turned to Robin for assistance. The baskets had been her idea, after all. “You can use it for whatever you want,” Robin said, figuring that this cranky woman was not the sort who would be in the habit of going on picnics or picking berries.

  “Hmph,” the woman grunted again. She eyed the basket in Jesse’s hand. “You brought one for her?” she asked, angling her head toward a door across the hall. “She ain’t home. She’s out doing heaven knows what.”

  “Well.” Jesse took the other small basket from Robin and handed it to Mrs. Stokes. “Perhaps you could give this to her when she comes home.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Mrs. Stokes pulled the basket inside. “Heaven knows when she’ll be home, carrying on the way she does,” she added with an indignant sniff.

  “Mrs. Stokes, it’s Christmas,” Jesse said awkwardly. “Have a little charity.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Mrs. Stokes mumbled something that resembled a thank you and slammed her door.

  “What a strange woman,” Robin whispered as they strolled back down the hall to the staircase.

  Jesse chuckled. “She’s a first-class bitch, all right. And she never passes up an opportunity to complain about Sheena, who lives across the hall from her. I think Sheena’s a prostitute, but I’m not sure.”

  Robin didn’t know what to say to that. This impoverished inner city environment was a far cry from the safe, wholesome world of army bases where she had grown up.

  When they reached the third floor hallway, Jesse stopped and gaped at the lightbulb glowing in the ceiling. He scowled. “Gerald,” he muttered.

  “Who’s Gerald?”

  Not bothering to answer, Jesse knocked on one of the doors. It swung open to reveal a strapping young man in blue jeans, his hair cropped short. The baby he held on his hip was wearing an oversize sailor cap which drooped adorably across his eyes. “Mr. Lawson!” the man greeted Jesse. “It isn’t time to go back to Newport yet, is it? Me and my nephew are having too much fun.”

  “Tomorrow night,” Jesse said, hovering on the threshold. “Gerald, did you replace the light bulb in the hall? I told your mother—”

  “Uh-uh, it wasn’t me. Mama said some guy was by this morning, changing the bulbs and checking the lock on the front door. Said Mr. Cabot sent him, and they wanted to take care of a few things. Come on in, ask Mama yourself.” The man waved Jesse and Robin inside.

  The cramped living room of the apartment echoed with the sound of Bruce Springsteen singing Santa Claus is Coming to Town in his gravelly hard-rock voice. Four teenagers, three girls and a boy, were gathered around a small, flimsy-looking tree, hanging the spindly twigs with tinsel. Next to the tree, a paper cut-out of Santa Claus was tacked to the wall. A gray-haired woman sat in a faded easy chair, but she rose at Jesse’s and Robin’s entrance. “Mr. Lawson!” she cried frantically, hurrying across the room to him. “You haven’t come to take Gerald back, have you?”

  “No, he’s got until tomorrow, Mrs. Selby,” Jesse reassured her, extending the basket to her as the teenagers hung back shyly. “We just dropped by to bring you this.”

  As soon as Mrs. Selby took the basket, her children swarmed around her. “Ooh, look!” one of the girls shouted, pulling the wooden snowflake from the basket. “Look at this! For our tree!” She swooped down on the bedraggled-looking tree and attached the snowflake.

  “Oh, my God,” Mrs. Selby gasped, staring at the food in the basket. “Oh, Mr. Lawson, we were gonna have nothing worth eating for supper tomorrow, and now this... I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say thank you, Mama,” Gerald coached her. “This is awfully kind of you, Mr. Lawson.”

  “I praise God you came into our lives, Mr. Lawson,” Mrs. Selby babbled, carrying the basket into the kitchen and setting it on the table. “Let me empty out this basket so you can take it home—”

  “No, the basket is yours to keep,” Jesse corrected her, arching his arm around Robin. “You can thank Robin for that.” He looped an arm around Robin’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You can also thank her for the candle and the table linen.” Two of the girls had already removed the contents of the basket and unfolded the tablecloth. They squealed in delight at the red-and-green pattern of wreaths decorating the cloth.

  Mrs. Selby dropped onto a chair, stunned. “You are too good to us,” she said, sighing. “I thought all my prayers were answered when you brought Gerald home yesterday. And then that man came and fixed the light in the hall this morning. And now this...I just don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything,” Jesse suggested, patting her arm. “We’re on our way. You’d better get back to trimming your tree.”

  Robin’s gaze passed from the gray-haired woman to Gerald and back again. Mrs. Selby had gotten to have her son home with her for the holiday, and Robin hadn’t. Yet she felt no envy, no resentment of the woman whose many prayers had been answered, thanks at least in part to Jesse. It was Christmas, and Christmas didn’t have room in it for jealousy. It had room only for this: giving, making others happy, bringing joy.

  Her eyes met Mrs. Selby’s. “Merry Christmas,” she said softly.

  “Bless you,” Mrs. Selby murmured. “May God bless you both.”

  The climb downstairs passed in silence. By the time Jesse and Robin reached the car, she was crying. When he moved to unlock the passenger door for her, he noticed the tears streaking down her cheeks. He frowned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, drawing her against himself in a consoling embrace.

  She rested her head against his shoulder and sniffled away her tears. “It’s nothing, really. I’m all right.”

  He ran his fingers through her hair, thoughtful and concerned. “I’m sorry, Robin—I thought you’d enjoy this. It was something I wanted to do. Now we’ll do something you want to do—sing Jingle Bells, roast chestnuts over an open fire...go to church, if you insist. Whatever you want.”

  “No, Jesse,” she said, her voice gaining strength. She tilted her head back so she could see him. “We’ve just done what I wanted to do.”

  His frown intensified. “Then why are you crying?”

  She brushed her tears away with her fingertips. “It was so beautiful, what you did,” she explained, her tone low but fervent. “Even that nasty woman who didn’t have the good grace to thank you—I bet you knew she wouldn’t, and you gave her the basket anyway. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

  Jesse gazed at her, his frown dissolving into a look of bemusement. “It wasn’t so beautiful,” he said modestly. “It was just something I wanted to do.”

  “Because it was Christmas,” Robin said.

  “Because it wa
s their holiday, and I thought they should have a good one. I don’t have to believe in Christmas to do something for someone who does. And now—” he touched his lips to hers “—I’ll do something for you. In fact, I’ll do anything but put on a false beard. That was the deal we made.”

  “Listen to me, Jesse,” Robin demanded impatiently. “I’m trying to tell you—you’ve already done something for me.”

  “What have I done for you? Cleaned out your store’s supply of straw baskets?”

  “You’ve made me realize that there’s a whole lot more to Christmas than putting the tree in the same corner every year. And I love you for it, Jesse. I love you.” Her arms coiled around his waist, beneath his coat, and she rose on tiptoe to kiss him.

  He briefly returned her kiss, then pulled back and studied her. “You weren’t crying because Mrs. Selby had her son and you didn’t have yours, were you?”

  “No,” Robin assured him. She was honestly glad Philip was in Florida. As she’d just learned from Jesse, more than anything else Christmas meant doing something for someone who believed. Philip believed, and Robin had let him go. “I was crying...” She tightened her arms around him, hugging him close. “I was crying because, for a while there, I was stupid enough to question whether I really loved you.”

  “Questioning isn’t stupid,” Jesse argued. “You know I respect people who ask questions.”

  “Yes, but that was one question that had an easy answer, and I shouldn’t have had to keep asking it. I won’t have to ask it anymore.” She kissed him again. “And the other reason I was crying was because, after all these years, it took an atheist to teach me what Christmas is all about.”

  “That makes perfect sense,” Jesse commented, smiling whimsically. “We atheists have the objectivity you Santa worshippers are lacking.”

  “I’m not a Santa worshipper,” Robin contradicted him. “I happen to like the Santa myth—”

  “You admit Santa’s a myth, then?” Jesse said victoriously. “That’s a start.”

  “Don’t try to convert me,” she warned him with a laugh.

  “What should I do?” he asked, his voice suddenly husky, his lips nearing hers.

  “Take me home,” she murmured. “We’ll build a big fire in the fireplace, and we’ll light up the tree, and—” her smile matched his in mischief “—I’ll make a believer out of you.”

  “I already believe,” he murmured before covering her lips in a searing kiss.

  “And I believe in you.” She held him close, strengthened by her faith that they were a part of something bigger than themselves, that they were possessed by it. Maybe it was God, maybe love, maybe the power of two souls coming together, becoming one. Maybe all of those things.

  Whatever it was, Robin would believe in it forever.

  Epilogue

  SHE WAS AWAKENED by the ringing of her telephone. Groaning, she rolled out of Jesse’s arms and groped for the receiver on the night table beside her bed. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mom! It’s me!” Philip shrieked. “Merry Christmas!”

  “Philip!” Robin blinked awake and grinned. “Merry Christmas, Phil. Are you having a good time in Florida?”

  “Yeah, it’s been great. Yesterday we went to see this show at a place called Sea World, I think, and they had a whale that danced in the water, and dolphins that jumped through hoops and everything. It was really neat. We’re just gonna hang out today, on account of it’s Christmas, and tomorrow Dad’s going to take me to the Magic Kingdom.”

  “It sounds terrific,” Robin said earnestly. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it.”

  “Our hotel room is neat, too. It’s got this big color TV set, and they get the Disney Channel here. I’ve been watching all the shows. Dad says he’s going crazy.”

  “Maybe you’d better let him watch some football,” Robin said, sharing her newfound understanding of the holiday with her son. “Christmas means making other people happy, too.”

  “Okay. Did Santa come?”

  “I haven’t gone downstairs yet to look under the tree,” Robin admitted. “But I’m pretty sure he did.”

  “Did you leave him some star-shaped cookies?”

  Robin winced. The cookie dough was still sitting in a bowl in the refrigerator. It had probably hardened to the consistency of granite by now. She considered confessing to Philip, then decided a white lie wouldn’t hurt. “I did, Phil, and I’m sure he ate them.”

  “Yeah, I bet he did,” Philip concurred. “Are you going to see Jesse today?”

  Robin turned to find Jesse wide awake, comfortably sprawled out beside her, his head propped up in his hand as he listened to her end of the conversation. His smile cut dimples into his cheeks, which were shadowed by an overnight growth of beard. The broad crest of his shoulder protruded from beneath the cover, reminding Robin of the fine body hidden from her view by the blanket. “I’ll definitely be seeing Jesse today,” she said, winking at the man under discussion. He clasped her hand and drew her palm to his lips for a kiss.

  “Well, listen,” Philip said, “when you see him, make sure he does what he promised me he’d do. And tell him that if he sees Ms. Becker, he should tell her Merry Christmas from me, all right? Because she had a nice wreath on her door, and I’m gonna try not to think she’s so boring anymore.”

  Philip’s long-winded instructions made Robin dizzy, but she obediently responded, “I’ll tell him.”

  “And tell him Merry Christmas from me, too.”

  “I will.”

  “I love you, Mom,” Philip said. “I’m gonna go now. Dad said I could have pancakes for breakfast every day. Goodbye!”

  “Goodbye, Phil. I love you, too.” Robin sensed that her son had hung up before she finished speaking, but that didn’t matter. Philip knew she loved him.

  “How’s he doing?” Jesse asked, pushing himself up to sit.

  “Having the time of his life.” Robin slid across the mattress to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and planted a kiss on the warm, lightly haired expanse of his chest. “He said to wish you a merry Christmas, among other things.”

  “I’ll forgive him for that,” Jesse joked.

  Robin frowned, trying to decipher the rest of Philip’s cryptic message. “He also said that you promised to do something for him.”

  “Do something for him? I wonder that’s supposed to mean.” Jesse frowned as well, but it looked like a fake frown to Robin. “It was nice of him to take time out from his revels with Mickey Mouse just to wish you a happy holiday.”

  “That’s one of our traditions,” Robin explained. “You call the members of your family who can’t be with you. I’ll be calling my mother in a few hours. With the time difference between here and Hawaii, I can’t call her this early. And Philip will probably call her from Florida, and he’ll call his other grandparents in Arizona. We always spend lots of time on the phone on Christmas day.”

  Jesse smiled. “I can see how much Phil’s call meant to you.”

  Robin leaned back and examined his face. She noticed in his features a reflection of his father, the similar eyes, the similar noses and jaws, the thick, softly textured hair. “All parents like to hear from their children at Christmas,” Robin she said gently. “Why don’t you call yours?”

  “My parents?” The idea clearly didn’t appeal to Jesse. His lips twisted in distaste, and he began to shake his head.

  “Jesse. It’s Christmas. Your first Christmas away from them. Call them.”

  “After everything I’ve told you...” He shook his head again, more vehemently. “It’s not that I refuse to call them ever again. But I can’t on Christmas. Any other day, sure, but not today.”

  “You have to,” Robin argued. “Why not today? You keep telling me that Christmas isn’t such a special day.”

  “They think it is.”

  “Exactly.” Robin kissed him, then leaned back and gazed into the fathomless dark of his eyes. “Give of yourself. Make them happy. Do it because they b
elieve.”

  He relented with a nod. “All right, I’ll do it. In a few hours—I’ve got time-zone problems, too. And they may just hang up on me.”

  “They won’t,” Robin predicted. “They’ll be as happy to hear from you as I was to hear from Philip. Take it from a mother. They’ll be delighted.”

  “They’ll chat for a few minutes, say goodbye and pray for my soul,” he muttered. Then he pushed back the covers and swung out of the bed, putting an end to the conversation.

  Robin didn’t press him further. She knew he would phone his parents, and she was proud of him. It would be a difficult call for him to make, but he was strong enough to survive it. More than survive it—he would feel good for having done it.

  Standing, she put on her bathrobe. Jesse donned his shirt and the trousers of his suit. Taking his hand, she led him from the bedroom. Perhaps he wanted breakfast, but some traditions wouldn’t be broken. The first thing Greers always did on Christmas morning was to hurry downstairs and view the presents under the tree. This year, one of those presents would be for Jesse. Though she wasn’t sure how he would react, Robin couldn’t wait to give it to him.

  What she didn’t expect was to find the tree all lit up. She was sure she’d unplugged the lights last night. But as she reached the bottom step, she was confronted with the sight of her Christmas tree blazing in all its glory.

  And something else—there were two packages under the tree that she didn’t recognize. With a bright red envelope lying on the carpet beside them.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips and turning accusingly to Jesse.

  He offered a boyish grin. “This one is my gift to Phil,” he said, marching to the tree, dropping down onto his knees and lifting the rectangular package. “It’s a remote-control four-wheel-drive Jeep. When he threatened to buy one for Mrs. O’Leary, I figured it was something he wanted for himself.”