A Merry Little Christmas (Songs of the Season)

by Anita Higman

  The woman settled in at the counter next to the display case and glanced around as if in awe of the diner. “I surely am hungry, though. Thank you for the invite.”

  Franny handed the woman a menu. “That’s good, because we’ve got a blue-plate special with turkey and dressing and green beans…with pumpkin pie for dessert.”

  “That sounds mighty fine, hon.”

  One of the older male customers at the counter ground out his cigarette in the ashtray as if he were killing an insect, got off his stool, and strode out the door.

  “Sir, you forgot your change.” Franny started to run after the man who left suddenly, but it was too late. She shrugged, put the change in a jar, and poured her friend a cup of coffee.

  Then Charlie saw a guy—apparently the owner—barrel out of the kitchen, combing his hair and glancing around. He was a real greaser type who was dressed like a buffoon and had enough goo on his gangster hairstyle to fry a carton of eggs. “Franny, what’s going on? How come that customer was angry?” the man asked. He slid the comb into his back pocket and put his hands on his hips, waiting for Franny to answer.

  The owner was so gruff that Charlie almost rose again, hoping to come to Franny’s aid, but then thought better of it, since the last thing he wanted to do was make things worse for her.

  Before Franny could answer, another customer at the counter, who had an annoyingly pointy chin, turned to the owner and said, “Arnold, you used to run a respectable business here. Looky what’s come in the front door. No one else is brave enough to speak up, but I am. You’d better clean up your diner, Arnold, or you’re going to lose all your customers.” Then the man slapped down his menu and raised his chin, which was made pointier by his spiky facial hair. Charlie thought the man’s ducktail beard looked befitting, since he had to be a real birdbrain.

  Arnold turned his attention to the Negro woman Franny had befriended. “Sorry, ma’am, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. There’s a café for you folks over on the next block.”

  The Negro customer he addressed slowly took a sip of coffee, placed her cup back on the counter, and said, “I will go, but the good Lord is watching all this, and He may ask for an accounting of it someday.”

  Arnold lowered his gaze and rubbed his chest as if trying to figure out how to counter her remark.

  “This lady is my guest today,” Franny said to Arnold.

  “I’m sorry.” Arnold put his hands on his hips. “If I let that woman stay, the rest of my customers will walk right out of here. Folks will tell their friends and they’ll stop coming to my diner. I didn’t sweat for ten years to build up a business just to see it demolished in one day. Not by you or anyone else. Savvy?”

  Franny yanked off her headband and apron and placed them on the counter. “Then I quit.” She turned her focus to the male customer at the counter who’d just demanded that Arnold clean up his diner. “Excuse me, sir?”

  Charlie held his breath, knowing that Franny was about to set the record straight, and he didn’t want to miss a second of it.

  “You say you’re not afraid to speak up, as if you’re brave in some way,” Franny said. “But your comments weren’t courageous…they exposed you as a coward.”

  The man at the counter huffed. “People have a name for white women like you,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear. “You’re nothing but a—”

  “Don’t you dare foul up this café with your filthy words.” Franny slammed her hand on the counter.

  “Ha. You’re the one guilty of bringing in the filth with that woman.” The man stroked his devilish beard and looked around as if expecting a round of laughs from the other customers.

  A few people rewarded him with a few chuckles.

  Then every last soul in the diner went as silent as the grave, and every gaze, except for a squirming child or two, was locked on Franny.

  “Sir, that woman is Noma Jefferson, and she is my guest here, because yesterday she came to my rescue when I needed help. Her kindness toward me will always be remembered. Will your little speech be remembered?” Franny asked. “What you said was as valuable as a soldier fighting on the wrong side of the war.”

  Shaking with emotion, Franny addressed the crowd, “We are better than this…aren’t we? Better than herding our brothers and sisters around as if they were cattle.” She looked around the room as if to affect every willing soul. “The Declaration of Independence reads, ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.’ And you know deep down in your gut that ‘separate but equal’ is a lie and that the Jim Crow laws are inhumane.”

  Franny picked up a ceramic Christmas tree off the counter and raised it in the air. “Hasn’t this season of grace and love and goodwill toward men done anything to soften our hard hearts? What are we so afraid of? The evil we dread isn’t in our black brothers and sisters, but it’s in the hate-inspired laws we’ve created against them. God Almighty is watching us…and it’s time we wake up and see how far we’ve strayed from what is right and good. Deep down we all desire to be decent Americans, but that right must never be presumed—it must be earned!” Franny set down the ceramic Christmas tree on the counter and dropped her shoulders as if exhausted.

  If air could tremble in awe, it would have.

  A kid at the counter gave his candy cigarette a pretend puff and said, “Neat-o.”

  A teenage girl snapped a photograph of Franny with her Polaroid camera.

  Charlie released a half sigh, half chuckle—feeling an ocean wave of emotion, of pure joy. Unable to hold back for another second, Charlie put his hands together in loud applause.

  Gradually others joined in, until the diner thundered with cheers. He eased himself out of the booth to give Franny a standing ovation.

  The door flew open from the cold wind and the paper menus took to the air. Franny picked up a few and handed them to Arnold, who stood behind the counter with a dumbfounded expression.

  Franny finally looked in Charlie’s direction, and for the first time since he’d entered the diner, their eyes met. She gasped.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Oh, Charlie boy! Franny had never been happier to see anyone in her life. What was he doing here? She wanted to run over and throw her arms around him, but first she stopped to make sure Noma was all right. “I’m sorry,” Franny whispered to her friend. “I didn’t mean to bring so much attention to you.”

  Noma touched Franny’s cheek. “You’ve got a good heart beating inside you, and God bless your parents for raising such a fine child. But I wish you hadn’t quit your job.”

  “Well, sometimes you gotta show people what you’re made of.” Franny and Noma exchanged smiles, and then Franny looked at Charlie. “I see a friend I want you to meet.”

  “Be happy to.” Noma followed Franny to Charlie’s booth at the back.

  He looked so handsome in his tailored suit with his fancy gold tiepin. Too bad she hadn’t had time to freshen up in the little girl’s room. As she approached Charlie, she was suddenly in a quandary about her greeting. Since they weren’t dating, perhaps she shouldn’t throw her arms around him. But in the midst of her indecision, Charlie pulled her into an embrace. “It’s only been a day, but it feels so good to see you.”

  “I missed you too.” More than I ever imagined. Franny hugged him back and breathed him in, expensive cologne and all. He was real. How in the world did you find me? I must know everything. But first she wanted him to meet Noma. “Charlie, I have a new friend I want you to meet.”

  When they eased apart Charlie gave Noma his full attention but said nothing about the scene he’d just witnessed. “I’m honored to meet you, Miss Jefferson.”

  “Call me Noma.”

  After Franny finished the introductions, Charlie invited them both to sit down in his booth.

  “Thank you for the invitation, but I think I’ll go back to my seat. I’d love to sit at the counter in this fine diner for a meal…to know how it feels.” Noma dabbed at the persp
iration on her forehead with a handkerchief, which she slipped back into the pocket of her maid’s uniform. “And besides, I can always tell when a couple needs some time alone.”

  Charlie chuckled.

  Franny raised a hand. “But we’re not—”

  “Maybe not yet you’re not, but just you wait….” Noma walked back to her spot at the front counter as Arnold arrived with her blueplate special.

  Franny sat down in the booth.

  Charlie lowered himself halfway into the seat across from her but then sort of fell the rest of the way.

  “You’re hurt. What’s happened to you?”

  “It’s a long story. But first I want to tell you how proud I am of you. You know, what you said here today. I didn’t want to say anything in front of your friend in case it would cause her more embarrassment, but your parents…well, they would have been proud too.”

  “That means a lot, Charlie, but how did you—”

  “Franny?” Arnold arrived at their table with her headband and apron. “I guess you can still have your job.” His scratched his head. “You’re kind of spunky. You remind me of my granny. But, hey, that little speech you gave, it’s not going to be this way every day at the diner, is it?”

  Franny wasn’t sure what to say, but she at least owed her employer an honest answer. “I don’t know. No guarantees.”

  “Hmm. Well, we’ll see how it goes. I need the extra help around Christmas.” Arnold set Franny’s headband and apron in front of her. “And you can have your thirty-minute lunch break now. Looks like you and your boyfriend need a minute to yourselves.”

  “But he’s not my…” Franny didn’t bother finishing the explanation, since Arnold was already headed back to the kitchen.

  Charlie laughed.

  Franny wasn’t sure if he was laughing because the idea of being in a relationship with her was a silly notion or because he wanted it to be true. She wished she knew the whole story. It might make a difference in her day—her life. “Now tell me what’s going on with your leg. You’re hurt.”

  “It’s only minor.” Charlie leaned toward her. “But what I need to talk to you about is how I got injured.”

  “Yes?”

  “I fell while I was trying to put out the fire.”

  “Fire?” Franny crossed her arms on the table. “What fire?”

  Charlie flinched. “The one that burned down the barn.”

  “The barn? It’s gone?” The shock of his announcement ran through her like a cherry Kool-Aid spill on a white tablecloth—swiftly and deeply.

  “Oh, Franny. How can I tell you how very sorry I am? And it happened on my watch.” He reached out and touched her sleeve. “None of the animals got hurt. In fact, it scared the cows so much they broke through the fence.”

  “Oh my.”

  “But the cows are fine. I rounded them up. The fire department said the fire started from a short in the wiring. It started not long after you left.”

  “Oh, my, my, my.” Franny imagined what the farm landscape must have looked like as the flames took the old building down. Not caring about her lipstick any longer, she pressed her fingers to her mouth and squashed her lips together.

  “It was so odd, don’t you think? That it happened the moment you were gone…as if the whole farm was in an upheaval, not wanting you to go.” Charlie gave her a weak smile. “Please say something. You’re welcome to holler at me.”

  “How could I be upset with you? I mean, it’s your farm now. And they said it wasn’t your fault anyway. Mice probably chewed through the wiring. You’ll need to buy a cat.”

  Charlie’s pained expression didn’t soften.

  “I promise you, I’m not upset. I’m just stunned. And I’m awfully glad you weren’t seriously injured.” Thank You, God, that he didn’t perish in the fire, trying to save the barn. “You have some good insurance, better than what I had, so you’ll get a brand-new barn. That old barn was beyond its prime…so rickety it could barely hold itself up anymore. It’ll be all right.”

  “So you’re not furious with me?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Charlie steepled his fingers together and leaned toward her. “Good, because there’s more to my story.”

  “Oh?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Well, my hired hand, Farley—he hurt himself.”

  “Badly?” Perhaps these mishaps were her fault, for leaving Charlie too soon.

  “No.”

  “So he hurt himself in the fire?” Franny tried to remove the alarm from her face, since she didn’t want to add to Charlie’s grief.

  “No. Actually, Farley hurt himself at home. He fractured his arm by falling off his daughter’s rocking horse. Unfortunately, he won’t be able to help me now. I went into town and asked around at the diner, but everybody’s busy with their own work.”

  Franny tried not to grin. “So, Farley injured himself falling off his daughter’s rocking horse? Farley never did have very much horse sense. Folks will pray for him as hard as they’ll howl with laughter.” She put up her hand. “Sorry, it’s not funny.” She leaned toward him. “So, Charlie, who’s looking after the piglets? Did you remember to give them their iron shots? And who’s watching out for Frutti? Is she starting to nest yet? If you don’t watch her carefully, she’ll end up having her babies in the field, and you know—”

  “Everything is all right. Farley’s brother is there watching over everything…for now. But he only promised to take over for today and tomorrow. I have to go back tomorrow evening.” Charlie touched Franny’s apron. “So, what happened at the radio stations?”

  Franny hated to pile her unhappy news on top of his, but he would have to know sooner or later. “The truth is, no one wanted me. Not even as a receptionist. After I thought about it, I realized they were pretty wise in their decision. I have no college education. No background in radio. I have an Oklahoma accent and a voice that goes squeaky as a rusty windmill when I get excited. I was so sure of myself, and yet this was the most foolish thing I’ve ever done in my life.” She picked up the apron and tied it around her waist.

  She reached for her headband, but Charlie held onto the other end of it. “I admire the fact that you did try.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” Charlie let go of the headband. “In fact—”

  “Wait a minute. Hey, how did you find me? Aunt Beatrice doesn’t live at that residence anymore, so the telephone number I gave you was bad.”

  “I know.” A smile warmed Charlie’s features. “Well, I had a little help from my Friend.” He pointed upward. “Hey, that’d make a good song. Anyway, miraculously, I heard your name on the radio. I could hardly believe it. The announcer mentioned this diner and, well, I didn’t know where else to go. I took a chance since it was close to the station and I thought you might be hungry.”

  “It was a miracle you found me, since I could have stopped at any diner in the city.” Franny picked at the lace on the headband. “Any diner at all.”

  “But you didn’t. You stopped here. And I couldn’t be happier about it.”

  “Me too.”

  “The thing is”—Charlie loosened his tie—“if you don’t love your waitressing job, I wish you’d come back. You’re good at farming, and I’d pay you very well to help me. Of course you’d stay in the house.”

  “Oh.” Franny scrubbed her knuckles against her chin. “So that’s the real reason you came to find me—to save the farm?” She had a sudden need to play with the salt and pepper shakers, so she wood-pecker-tapped them together, impatient to know Charlie’s real reason for his fanatic search to find her.

  “No, it isn’t at all.” He caught her gaze, which wasn’t easy to catch, since she was avoiding his scrutiny. “I missed you, Franny. The farm has no life or color without you. I doubt the potatoes would grow in the spring without you. And the pigs were getting a serious case of melancholia. It just won’t do, Franny.”

  She sighed a little inside, think
ing he’d redeemed himself. A little. “I have to confess that I missed the farm after I left. And I missed you.”

  “I’m glad.” Charlie picked up the ketchup and mustard containers and bumped them together just like Franny had with the salt and pepper shakers.

  She grinned.

  “So, tell me, do you regret selling me the farm?”

  “I would hate to put it that way.” But how would she put it?

  He set the containers down but continued to grip them. “Here’s the way it is…I want you to come back, but I’m equally sorry about your dream. I want you to know that I wasn’t rooting for your failure. Except now, I admit to a little selfish joy on my part. But I assure you that I’m very repentant for it. Well, I’m trying to be.”

  Franny loved the way Charlie talked—loved his ways in general. “I believe you.”

  “And I promise I didn’t burn down the barn just to get you to come back.”

  She chuckled. “I’m glad about that too.”

  “Good. Now will you come back? Just say those words. Please.”

  “Yes, I just might.”

  “Sorry, it suddenly got so noisy in here that I couldn’t hear what you said.”

  “Yeah, I know. There’s a bunch of ladies laughing up at the front. Women can be such cackling hens.”

  “What?”

  “I said, women can be such cackling hens,” Franny almost screamed the words just as the diner got quiet. A few people looked their way.

  Charlie and Franny laughed.

  “My answer is yes.”

  “Very good. Well, then, I think you’re going to disappoint old Arnold. He was looking forward to working with his grandmother.”

  Franny chuckled. “Cute.” She gave his hand a little pat. “Arnold will recover.”

  Charlie took her hands in his. “I want to ask you for another favor.”

  What could it be now? “Yes?”

  “As you know, my brother and father live here in the city and, well, I’d like for them to meet you. We could go after lunch. That is, if you want to.”