Cupid's Christmas

by Bette Lee Crosby

  On the drive to Philadelphia they spoke of many things—music, books, food, travel, childhood memories and mutual friends, but the topic of conversation that never surfaced was Matthew’s moved-to-Seattle-fiancé. Hopefully she was the past and this was an evening for new beginnings.

  Bistrot La Minette was everything Lindsay could wish for—cozy, intimate and full of charm. “It’s beautiful,” she sighed.

  “I thought you’d like it,” Matthew said, “I do too. It reminds me of Paris. Have you ever been there?”

  Lindsay answered no and then asked if he had.

  “Yes, twice,” he said.

  Her tongue itched to ask who he’d been there with, but she bit back the words. Lindsay had always thought of Paris as a place for lovers and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d taken Brianna there. Before those thoughts could blossom, he spoke again…

  “I spent the summer of my junior year in France. It was Mike Trent, two guys he knew from Duke and me. We backpacked from Provencal to Paris then stayed there for five days.”

  “I’m so jealous,” she said jokingly, “I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”

  As Lindsay toyed with the stem of her wine glass, he reached across the table and touched his hand to hers. His gesture was not one of those passing happenstances, it was deliberate to the point of being meaningful—it both asked and offered. She gave him a smile of acceptance. Across the candlelit table, Lindsay saw something she’d never noticed before—Matthew looked exactly like her father. He was so obviously a man with principles.

  After dinner, they strolled through the park and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She was tall and, whereas most men had to settle for holding hands or circling her waist, Matthew’s arm fit perfectly. It was hours past midnight when he kissed her goodnight and, by then, Lindsay knew she was falling in love.

  Did you notice the POW moment? It was in the park when he put his arm around Lindsay. Yeah, yeah, I know—you expected a steamy love scene, right? Those romance novels will be the death of me. It’s never the way those books tell it, but humans go right on thinking it will be. That’s why a lot of them miss out on the beauty of what I give them. Panting, sweating and bodice-ripping are not my style. True love happens with the brush of an eyelash or the touch of a hand, it’s gentle and sweet, it tells a human I’m here and I’ll be here forever. Lust comes panting and sweating, it says I’m here Baby, but who knows where I’ll be tomorrow. Now which one would you really rather have?

  I thought so.

  In the light of morning, Lindsay began to think back on the evening and one troublesome thing kept picking at her mind. Who had Matthew taken to Paris the second time? It wouldn’t have been his buddies—guys do that once, but it’s not likely he’d return with them a second time. Paris was the city of love—it was a place for picnicking on the grass, strolling along the Seine and kissing under the Eifel Tower. She thought back to her first day on the job and the observation that Matthew resembled so many of the handsome men she’d dated. “Oh dear,” she groaned, “…maybe this is a mistake. Maybe this is Phillip all over again.”

  When she arrived at the breakfast table, Lindsay’s forehead was lined with worry.

  “Did you and Matthew have a nice time last night?” Eleanor asked.

  “Yes,” she answered, and left it at that.

  “Is something wrong?” her father asked.

  Lindsay again gave a one word answer, “No.”

  “Well you look like something’s wrong,” he said, “If something’s wrong speak up—”

  “Hush John, leave her alone,” Eleanor said. “Lindsay’s just tired this morning.”

  Lindsay waited until he’d finished his eggs and gone off to read his newspaper in the den. But the moment he was out of sight, she turned to Eleanor and asked, “Did Matthew ever take Brianna to Paris?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Eleanor answered, “He took Gracie, and another time he went with some fellows from college, but I don’t know of—”

  “Gracie?”

  “Matthew’s mother. He took her for her fiftieth birthday and she said it was the finest trip she’s ever been on. I remember her saying, now that she’d seen Paris she could die a happy woman, and she did a year later.”

  “She died?”

  “Yes.” Eleanor’s eyes began to tear. “It broke my heart. She was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister and I surely did love her.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “Life gives and takes—it gave me a sister then took her away, it gave me a husband then took him too.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Lindsay said, wrapping her arms around the woman she once hated, “but now, you’ve got Dad, so maybe life is trying to make up for its mistakes.”

  Eleanor squeezed a bit closer, “Honey,” she said, “Getting to know you has more than made up for the heartaches I’ve gone through.” The words were barely out of her mouth when she realized what she’d said— “Oops, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “For calling you honey again.”

  Lindsay laughed out loud. “You can call me honey, any old time you want to. As a matter of fact, I rather like it.”

  Ah yes, as the saying goes—love makes the world go around. If only more humans could come to see that. Love is like marmalade, the more you spread it around the sweeter everything tastes. Did you notice when Lindsay started to fall in love with Matthew, Eleanor came along for the ride? That’s how love works. When humans are in love, they’re happy, when they’re happy, they’re sweeter.

  I think it’s safe to say Eleanor’s problems with Lindsay are over, but unfortunately her problems with Ray are escalating rapidly.

  Three times I had Traci come to bed in a flimsy little thing that should have gotten some reaction—but nothing. She asked him about the possibility of starting a family and he turned that idea down also. I was able to see what he was thinking that time and it was typical of someone with an axe to grind.

  I’m out of ideas when it comes to Ray and asking Life Management for help is not an option. They’re not the least bit flexible about altering their event plan. I’m giving this two more weeks, and then I’m going to The Boss. Nothing’s impossible for him. Not even Ray.

  Cupid…The Good and Bad

  Watching humans fall is love is the best part of this job. In the early days, weeks, months and for the most fortunate ones—years, humans are at their shiny bright best. Time doesn’t lessen their love, but it changes the mating dance. What begins as a wild and passionate tango evolves into a waltz, with two bodies bending and moving together, whirling across the potholed landscape of life. After years of trial and error that waltz becomes a slow fox trot with smaller evenly matched steps and when one partner grows weary, they lean on their mate knowing they will be carried. This last dance may not be as exciting as the first, but I can assure you there’s true beauty in every step.

  Once Lindsay discovered that Matthew had taken his mother to Paris she let go of the sack of what-ifs she’d been carrying around. Suddenly she could see clear as day—Matthew had tons of principles, more principles than a girl would ever need, perhaps even more than her father.

  On Saturday night, they went to the movies and stopped for pizza, and on Sunday they returned to Philadelphia for a visit to the aquarium. Lindsay was amazed to discover that things she’d seen dozens of times before were now brighter and more lively.

  “They must have changed the lighting in here,” she exclaimed. “The fish seem so much more colorful.”

  “I was thinking the same thing myself,” Matthew answered, then he snuggled her into the crook of his arm.

  With his heart beating in harmony with hers, they stood and watched two grey sharks swim back and forth for nearly an hour. “Fascinating creatures aren’t they?” Matthew sighed.

  “Uh-huh,” Lindsay replied and shouldered her way closer.

  On Monday Lindsay was up before the sun and already standing in front of the Kindness Animal
Clinic when Matthew arrived to unlock the door. “I thought I’d check the appointment schedule and get that out of the way,” she said, “…then you can start teaching me how to work with dogs.”

  “Good idea,” Matthew answered. He touched his finger to her face and tilted her chin upward as if he were about to kiss her. Lindsay waited, but it didn’t happen. Instead, he pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door and said, “Let’s get started.” As they worked, Lindsay stood alongside him in an examination room, seizing every opportunity to inch a bit closer or allow his hand to brush against hers.

  Lindsay knew she was in love. When she went to bed at night, it took hours to fall asleep because she couldn’t put the picture of Matthew out of her mind. When she finally slept, she dreamt of him. In some dreams they walked arm in arm through the park, or danced, or better yet kissed with a fervency that left beads of perspiration on her forehead when she awoke. But there were also other dreams, dreams where he turned away and strode into a room, closing the door behind him and leaving her on the outside. When that dream came, Lindsay awoke with her heart banging against her chest, and it took several minutes before she could convince herself that it was only a dream.

  Mixed in with all her happiness, Lindsay held onto a tiny grain of doubt, a whisper of jealousy that reared its head when Barbara breezed by to spend the day with Matthew behind a closed door. Lindsay knew Barbara stood next to him just as she did, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many times their hands touched. When Barbara brushed against his shoulder, did she feel the same magic Lindsay felt or was it simply a jostle, a meaningless collision of bodies? On Thursdays when she sat alone at the reception desk, thoughts of Phillip returned and picked at her brain. She hadn’t suspected Phillip was cheating on her, and yet... Her thoughts continued to meander back to the day when the truth of Phillip surfaced—it came like the blast of a shotgun, quick, hard and with a near deadly force—would it be the same with Matthew?

  I know you’re thinking Lindsay is a foolish girl, but please realize these small bursts of doubt and jealousy are simply part of the mating dance. I assure you this situation will resolve itself—and, I might add, without any help from me.

  On the second Thursday in November Barbara showed up forty-five minutes later than usual and she didn’t barrel through the door to head for the back room. Instead she slogged into the reception room with tears running down her cheeks and a stream of muddy water dripping from her clothes.

  “Are you okay?” Lindsay asked.

  Barbara shook her head no and continued to cry.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “My car…”

  “Did you have an accident?”

  Barbara shook her head a second time.

  Lindsay found it virtually impossible to be envious of someone sobbing as Barbara was. She came from behind the reception desk and took a broken umbrella from the girl’s hands. “Come on,” she said. “We’ve got to get you dried off.” She pushed Barbara toward the washroom. “Get cleaned up,” she instructed. “I’ll find you something to wear.”

  When Lindsay returned she had a set of blue scrubs that belonged to Matthew. “Put these on,” she said, “the pants are gonna be way too long, but just roll them up.”

  Barbara did as she was told and as she stood there looking like a dwarf in a giant’s clothing, Lindsay noticed something she’d failed to notice before—a gold band circled the third finger of Barbara’s left hand. “You’re married?” she gasped.

  Barbara, who by now had stopped sobbing and cleaned most of the mud off her face, nodded. Once calmed down, she explained how her car had died on Route 70 and she’d had to walk the last half mile to the office. On the way, three trucks and a Mercedes had driven through puddles and drenched her with mud. “It was horrible,” she moaned. “I was petrified walking so close to the highway and the wind from the trucks…”

  Lindsay listened to the story then brought Barbara a cup of steaming chamomile tea. “This will calm you,” she said and stirred in two heaping teaspoons of sugar.

  That morning the tumor removal on an aging Bulldog didn’t start until eleven-thirty and when the surgery room door was closed, Lindsay oddly enough had no thoughts of Phillip. In fact, she was so energized that she completed two weeks of billing and sent out twenty-three overdue vaccination notices.

  A month after they’d begun dating, Lindsay asked Eleanor and her father if she could invite Matthew for Thanksgiving dinner. “A wonderful idea,” John said. He gave her a wide grin and added, “It’s high time I got to know this young man.”

  Eleanor agreed and suggested they also invite Ray and Traci. A few minutes later she added Matthew’s dad to the list. “With Gracie gone, he’s all alone,” she sighed.

  “We probably should also include Lorraine and Frank,” John said.

  That prompted Eleanor to remember Matthew had a great uncle who lived in Rochelle Park with his third wife, and the neighbors two door down whose children lived someplace in Idaho. When the list was complete they had fourteen names. “Oh dear,” Eleanor sighed. “We’ve only got twelve place settings.” She eyed the list again, but by then she’d already convinced herself that every single person on the list had to be invited. “It wouldn’t be right for someone to have to spend Thanksgiving all alone,” she said and everyone agreed.

  Since the Macy’s in Philadelphia stocked her dinnerware pattern, Eleanor declared the best solution was for her to drive in on Saturday morning and pick up a few extra place settings.

  “I’ll go with you,” Lindsay said. “I’d like to get a new dress for Thanksgiving, and I really need another pair of jeans.” Once they decided to go together, both women came up with a lengthy list of things they could most likely use.

  That evening Eleanor made several telephone calls to invite the dinner guests, the last call she made was to Ray. Traci answered the phone. “Hi Mom,” she said brightly.

  Eleanor explained that she and John were having a special Thanksgiving dinner and wanted to include them.

  “Mom, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Traci’s voice grew lower and apprehension was threaded through every word. “Ray’s been in a bad mood lately and the truth is, he’s none too fond of John.” she tried to soften the sound of the words, but no matter how they were spoken they had the same ugliness stuck to them.

  “Well, perhaps if I spoke to him…”

  “Um,” she hesitated, then whispered, “I probably think it’s better if you don’t because…” before she could finish the sentence, Ray’s voice blasted its way through the wire.

  “What?” he snapped angrily. “You think my wife is gonna side with you? I’m not coming over there for another fiasco like Labor Day! If that’s what you’re thinking, think again!”

  “But Ray, I thought you—”

  “You thought what?” he interrupted, “You’re not thinking, that’s the problem!”

  “Why are you acting like—”

  “Me? It’s not me, it’s you. You’re acting like a lovesick school girl. For God’s sake Mother, you’re fifty-eight years old!”

  “Just because I’m a bit older doesn’t mean—”

  “You’re old enough to have some sense! You’re not stupid! You should know better than to get involved with some—”

  “Wait a minute Ray, this isn’t just an affair,” Eleanor said. “John and I are planning to—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. That’s what they all say. I see it on television every day.”

  “You see what on television?”

  “Stories about women like you. Women duped into letting some jerk take everything—”

  “John is not like that—”

  “You know what Ma, I take it back—you are stupid! Stupid enough to let that jerk take advantage of you. If that’s what you want to do, fine! But don’t call me again until you come to your senses!” Ray slammed the receiver down with such force that it left Eleanor with a ringing in her ear.

 
This is the problem I told you about and trust me— it will get much worse before it gets better. If it gets better. From where I stand the future for Eleanor and John looks very bleak—that is, if they have a future.

  Lindsay was searching animal rescue sites on the computer in the den, but she’d heard the phone call. Although she couldn’t make out the words, she recognized the angry sound and knew it was Ray. When there was only silence, Lindsay got up and went into the kitchen. Eleanor was sitting alone.

  “Are you okay?” Lindsay asked, but when Eleanor looked up, she saw the tears rolling down her cheeks and knew the answer.

  “Ray’s so angry,” Eleanor said. “He just doesn’t understand. He thinks your father…”

  Lindsay sat and pulled her chair close, “Don’t worry,” she said taking Eleanor’s hand in hers. “He’ll come around. When I first found out about you and Dad, I felt the same way but look at us now—we’re like best friends.” Lindsay still couldn’t bring herself to say like mother and daughter, perhaps one day but not yet.

  “Ray’s a lot different than you. Once he gets a grudge in his heart, he’s not about to part with it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him as angry…”

  “He won’t be angry forever. Wait and see. I’ll bet he calls tomorrow morning and says he’s sorry for acting that way.”

  Eleanor shrugged, but there was a look of doubt stretched across her face.

  Cupid…The Last Word

  I’d like to be able to tell you what’s going to happen, but regretfully I can’t. Even I have blind spots and right now the only thing I can see in either Eleanor or Lindsay’s future is a gigantic black hole. That scares me. A black hole is not good. It generally means Life Management is up to something they want to keep hidden. Like humans the world over, I believe love conquers all, and I’m hoping to muster up enough love power to break through this barrier and avoid whatever mishaps Life Management has planned.