One Imperfect Christmas

by Myra Johnson

  Chomping down on a tough piece of fake chicken, he regretted turning down a bowl of Bram's homemade four-alarm chili for this.

  Far more disappointing, however, was missing the chance to spend the evening with Natalie. Maybe they wouldn't have fought this time. It might have been okay … maybe. He tried to picture Natalie's reaction when she received the flower arrangement. Would she be touched, angry, or worse, completely indifferent?

  Thinking of you. How lame was that? He could have at least signed it, With love.

  Abruptly, he didn't feel so hungry after all. He set the plate on the coffee table and pressed a hand to his chest, willing away the suffocating emptiness. If he couldn't do anything tonight about his marriage, at least he could try to make peace with his daughter. He walked down the hall and tapped on Lissa's door.

  “What?”

  “Can I come in?” He opened the door a crack. “I really lost it earlier, and I want to apologize.”

  He heard the rustle of paper and the squeak of her desk drawer closing.

  Finally, Lissa answered with a tremulous, “Okay.” As he sidled into the room, she murmured, “I'm sorry too.” She lay across the bed on her stomach, chin propped on folded arms, her long blonde hair almost hiding her small face.

  Daniel's chest tightened. His normally outspoken daughter suddenly seemed so much younger than her thirteen years. He settled beside her on the edge of the bed. On her computer screen a colorful horse graphic with the look of an oil painting caught his eye. He recognized Lissa's unique artistic style. “You just do that?” At her nod, he said, “Cool.”

  She grimaced. “Tell my art teacher. She doesn't think computer-assisted art is 'creative.'”

  “Bet your mom would disagree.” When she didn't answer, he tried another tack. “Hungry yet?”

  “Sort of.” She rolled over and stared with red-rimmed eyes at the ceiling light. “I still think you and Mom are being jerks.”

  He winced. “Yeah, you're probably right. What can I say?”

  “You could say you and Mom are getting back together.” That quaver again.

  His own voice shook as he answered. “I hope and pray we will someday. But the decision is up to your mom.”

  Lissa jerked upright, her gaze accusing. “You could try harder, Dad. You could have gone to her party tonight. You could call her more. You could—”

  “Stop right there.” Daniel raised a warning hand. “We've already had this argument, and look where it got you.”

  “Okay, okay.” She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. “Can I get something to eat now?”

  Daniel could tell it was not “okay,” but Lissa's stiff spine as she marched out the door told him their conversation had ended. He didn't know when he'd ever felt so alone and helpless. Even his prayers seemed to bounce off the ceiling and back into his lap.

  The phone rang, sending his heart rate skyrocketing. He imagined Natalie on the other end of the line, calling about the flowers. A thousand possible scenarios played through his brain, none of which gave him any peace.

  He heard Lissa pick up the kitchen extension. “Dad, it's for you.”

  If the caller was Natalie, Lissa's tone gave no clue. He stepped into the hallway, palms sweating. “I'll take it in my room.” He closed his bedroom door and picked up the phone on his bedside table. “Hello?”

  “Coach Pearce, this is Dave Arnell, head basketball coach at Langston High. I have your résumé in front of me.”

  Daniel's breath hitched. Okay, he'd asked for a sign. Maybe this was it. If Arnell offered him a job, it could mean the time had come to permanently end things with Natalie.

  “Yes, sir, Coach Arnell.” He tried to mask the trepidation in his voice, but every nerve had gone on red alert. “What can I do for you?”

  The other man chuckled. “Son, the real question is, what can I do for you? One of our assistant coaches just announced he's retiring at the end of this school year, and I'm in the market for a new second-in-command starting next fall. Are you still interested in interviewing for a position at Langston?”

  Lissa had intended to hang up the kitchen phone as soon as her father picked up. She knew it was impolite to eavesdrop, but when she heard the caller identify himself, she couldn't resist the urge to listen in.

  The job offer stunned her. If Dad said yes and ended up moving to Langston, he and Mom would never get back together.

  With tingling fingers she replaced the receiver as gently as possible. Time was running out. She'd have to kick her plans into high gear.

  Her toast popped up. She absently dropped it onto a paper towel and spread it with peanut butter. Thoughts spinning, she carried the toast and a glass of milk to her room and sat down at the computer. She closed the graphic design she'd been working on, logged on to her email site, and wrote:

  TO: WATERBUG

  FROM: LP108

  SUBJECT: major bad news

  I can't believe this. My dad is interviewing for a coaching job in Langston. If that happens, it's over!!!! You know what I've been praying for. Mom & Dad back together by Christmas. And you know I would do anything, absolutely ANYTHING, to make that happen!! If my grandma would just get well, I KNOW everything would be okay again. The idea I told you about has just GOT to work, so don't let me down, okay? Friday, 5:45 a.m., Sixth and Main, just like we planned. Be there, PLEASE????

  She clicked the send button and listened to the computerized chime that indicated her e-mail was on its way through cyberspace.

  One item checked off her list, one to go. She logged off the Internet, reached for the phone, and pressed a speed-dial code.

  “Hello?” said a sleepy voice.

  “Hi, it's me. Just making sure we're on schedule.”

  The voice perked up. “No problemo, baby. All systems are A-OK.”

  8

  Natalie somehow choked down enough chili and corn-bread to quiet the concern in her father's searching glances, but the birthday meal sat like a wheelbarrow of concrete in the pit of her stomach. Dad and Hart cleared the table while Celia set out dessert plates and lit the candles on the birthday cake. Natalie glimpsed the box on the counter with “Lindon's Bakery” stamped in gold script on the lid. Of course, Dad had ordered one of Maeve Lindon's scrumptious red velvet cakes. They'd always been Natalie's favorite and a longstanding birthday tradition—one she would have gratefully forsaken this year, if anyone had asked.

  She had no choice but to sit in awkward silence, a stiff smile pasted across her face, while the family sang “Happy Birthday” and waited for her to blow out the candles before they melted into waxy puddles in the creamy frosting. Celia handed her a knife and dished up generous scoops of vanilla ice cream as Natalie served the cake and hoped no one noticed her shaking hands. Hart and the twins gobbled down second and third helpings, while Natalie toyed with her miniscule slice and watched the dark red crumbs float in iridescent pools of melted ice cream.

  Next came the cards and gifts. She dutifully opened each one and gave what she hoped were convincing “oohs” and “aahs.” A mint-green knitted cap with matching scarf and gloves from Hart and Celia. A movie rental gift card from the twins. A silver bracelet with horse charms from her dad.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice breathy. She stuffed a wad of pastel tissue paper into a silver gift bag and started to rise. “It was all wonderful, but I have to be at work early in the morning. I should really go.”

  “But, sweetie, we're just getting started.” Dad laid a restraining hand on her arm. “With all of us here to pitch in, the decorating won't take long.”

  “We could do it another night.” She lifted her brows in a pleading look. “Maybe next weekend?”

  Hart spoke up. “You don't want to mess with tradition, do you? We always do the tree on your birthday.”

  She cast him a despairing frown. “I know, but … ”

  “It's what your mom would want.” The poignant note in Dad's voice stabbed Natalie's heart. “Stay.�
�

  She bent to give her father a kiss on his wrinkled forehead. “Okay, Dad, sure.”

  Her father rubbed his hands together. “You go put your feet up for a few minutes while we clean up in here. Then we can get busy on the decorating.”

  The kitchen door whisked shut behind her. She settled into her dad's favorite easy chair, its plush velour upholstery comforting her like a familiar hug. Across the room, the wood-stove radiated its warmth, and the subtle, soothing scent of burning oak logs surrounded her. She welcomed the temporary solitude to compose herself for what came next. If only she'd had the foresight to bring up these dreaded birthday traditions with Dr. Sirpless, maybe she could have come away with some slightly more effective coping strategies than “grin and bear it.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, one fist knotted so tightly that her nails dug into her palm. Dear God, for Dad's sake, please let me make it through this night.

  All too soon, Celia joined her in the living room and started some Christmas music playing on the stereo. “Dad set aside a container of chili for you. Be sure you don't forget it.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The soft strains of “Away in a Manger” floated toward her from a nearby speaker. Already she could feel what little self-control she had regained beginning to crumble.

  “I took the twins by to see Mom after school today.” Celia took a seat on the sofa. “Every once in a while I'm sure she actually recognizes us.” She gave her head a small shake. “But then the light goes out of her eyes again.”

  Natalie couldn't respond. She wanted to change the subject, before the mildly pulsating nausea in the pit of her stomach became something much worse. She noticed a tiny chili stain on the front of her wool slacks and self-consciously rubbed at it.

  “Well, anyway … ” Celia's voice took on the rapid, high-pitched timbre of nervous chatter. “I'm glad for your dad's sake that we could get together for your birthday. I'm just sorry Lissa and Daniel couldn't make it. It's such a busy time of year for you at work, I know, so—”

  Dad shoved through the door, a stack of Christmas boxes balanced against his chest. “Hey, you two, cut the chatter and give an old man a hand.”

  “Sure, Dad! Let's get this show on the road.” Celia jumped up, the thankful look in her eyes mirroring Natalie's own explosion of relief—anything to put an end to this awkward one-sided conversation.

  Hart set the nativity box beneath the antique library table while Kevin and Kurt wrestled the tree through the doorway. Natalie knew from long years of experience that for this stage of the production, she'd be safer on the sidelines. She snuggled deeper in her chair and watched the Keystone Kops-like performance as the men in the family sorted through several containers and planned their attack on the Christmas tree. Dad dug through the boxes until he located the tree lights. By the time he and Hart secured the tree in its stand near Natalie's chair, the twins had most of the light strings untangled and sorted by color and type.

  Time to get out of the way. She rose and moved a few steps to one side, leaving Celia to her assigned job of opening and arranging the ornament boxes on the coffee table.

  From the stereo speakers, Julie Andrews's lilting soprano poured forth “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” Natalie hugged herself as memories washed over her—memories as intense as the pungent scent of evergreen filling her nostrils. How she missed Mom! She longed to be anywhere else in the universe, anywhere except this room on this night. As on Thanksgiving, she wondered if Dr. Sirpless would take a last-minute appointment.

  Kurt crawled behind the tree to plug in an extension cord and connected the light strands end to end. He and Kevin meticulously checked the strings for burnt-out bulbs as the lights warmed and began to twinkle.

  “Looks like everything's working, Granddad.” Kevin shoved up the sleeves of his green sweatshirt and carried a strand to the tree.

  Celia nudged Natalie's shoulder and cast a disbelieving glance toward the ceiling. “Honestly, they act like it's brain surgery.”

  Natalie forced a tiny laugh. “No kidding.”

  The men encircled the tree and fed the lighted strings to each other, beginning at the top and choosing each placement with great deliberation. Finally, Hart stepped back and planted his knuckles on his hips. “There's too many at the top and not enough at the bottom.”

  Kurt settled on his haunches and moved a branch aside. “It needs more in towards the trunk.”

  “Look there.” Kevin pointed a slender finger. “A bunch of blue ones are all clumped together.”

  Celia giggled and twisted her long ponytail. “Next they'll be getting out a level and tape measure.”

  Natalie's father made a few adjustments and turned to her. “What do you think, Natalie? Does it look balanced from that angle?”

  Her throat ached. She pressed a finger to her lips and nodded. “It looks fine, Dad.”

  When the men were finally satisfied with the lights, Celia parceled out the ornaments. She gave Kevin and Kurt the box of starched white crocheted snowflakes, and she and Hart hung the gold and silver balls.

  Natalie's father eased his back as he gazed at the remaining ornament boxes on the coffee table. Selecting one from a box of special keepsakes, he came up beside Natalie and held it out to her. “Your favorite,” he said softly. “Remember?”

  How could she forget? The delicate white globe bore the image of a galloping horse that looked just like Windy, her Appaloosa. Her mother had painted the ornament herself the Christmas after Windy was born. Natalie still remembered how Mom had to ice her wrist every couple of hours as she worked.

  “Windy doesn't get ridden much these days.” Dad slid his finger beneath the errant strand of hair Natalie could never keep out of her eyes. “She misses you.”

  “I've been way too busy lately.” She turned the ornament slowly in her hands. “Actually, I've … I've been thinking about giving Windy away. Last summer I helped design a brochure for a new place in Putnam called Reach for the Stars. It's a riding center for kids with disabilities.”

  “I've heard of it. Sounds like a wonderful project.”

  “Don't you think Windy would be a great horse for them? She's calm, steady, and—” She shot her dad a knowing wink. “—not too stubborn for a part-Appaloosa.”

  He cast her a doubtful frown. “Are you sure you could part with her? You raised her from a foal and trained her yourself. Why, you and your mom brought her into the world.”

  Natalie pressed her cheek against his sleeve, memories clutching at her heart. “I have to face reality, Dad. The truth is I don't have time for a horse anymore—haven't for a long time.”

  “What about Lissa? She's kind of attached to Windy too.” Dad pressed his lips into a tight, sad smile. “Remember last summer? She was practically camped out in Windy's stall.”

  Natalie shuddered. She didn't want to remember last summer. She didn't want to remember anything about the past year.

  She gazed at the delicately painted horse on the ornament she held. “I'm afraid Lissa's outgrowing her interest in horses. Can you even remember the last time she came out to ride?”

  Her father wrinkled his brow. “Not since she moved to Putnam with Daniel, I suppose.” Shaking his head, he said tiredly, “I've been remiss, my mind on so many other things. I should have made a point of inviting her out to go riding with me.”

  “It's not your fault, Dad, it's mine.”

  “Now, Natalie—”

  “No, it's true. I don't even know what my daughter cares about anymore. She's changed so much this past year.”

  “A lot has changed.” The catch in Dad's voice almost undid Natalie. He took a deep, harsh breath before laying a callused hand on her arm. “You miss your little girl, I know you do.”

  She could hardly speak her answer. “Yes. I miss her a lot.” She missed Daniel too.

  “Then do something about it before it's too late.”

  After all the mistakes she'd made? It was already too late
— far too late.

  She moved to the tree on leaden feet. With trembling fingers she selected a branch and carefully attached the Appaloosa ornament. Behind her, she heard her father clear his throat. She turned to see him leaning over the coffee table, peering into the ornament boxes.

  “I've always liked this one,” he said, lifting out an elegant crystal bell. He rang it gently, and the beautiful, shimmering tone sent chills up Natalie's arms. When she was a little girl, she once asked her mother if that's what angels sounded like when they sang.

  “Someday we'll find out, won't we?” Mom had answered. “What a blessed day that will be!”

  Her mother's faith had always been an inspiration—her love the glue that held this family together. Natalie pictured the vacant gaze in those liquid blue eyes that once held so much joy. How she wished her mom could be here tonight! Why can't things be like they were?

  Dad placed the bell on a branch and gave the clapper a gentle flick. When the clear, sweet chime died away, he said, “Nothing about life is easy, Rosy-girl, but the good Lord never promised us it would be. All we can do is keep trying and trusting and hoping.”

  Her father's words rang coldly against the hardened shell encasing her heart. She glanced over her shoulder toward Hart and Celia and the boys, busy with decorations on the other side of the tree. At least they didn't seem to be paying any attention to this conversation. Any more well-intentioned words, sympathetic hugs, or lectures on pulling herself together and she'd implode.

  Her father continued softly, urgently, “Don't you think it's about time you and Daniel worked things out? At least try, for Lissa's sake. It's almost Christmas, after all.”

  She clenched her fists. “Please, Dad—”

  Suddenly a blur of black and white dashed past, with Kevin and Kurt in hot pursuit. “Bring it back, Sky.” Kurt grabbed for the dog's tail and missed. “Granddad, she's got my Santa ornament, the one I made in second grade.”