by Joyce Magnin
"There are no gifts under the tree," said an old woman sitting on one of the hard visitor chairs. "There are no gifts under the tree."
I couldn't tell if she was sad or mad. But the place did have a decidedly different sense to it. Before Leon disappeared the people were happy, jovial even, and seemed to move with a lot more intention and energy. But now as I looked around, the faces were glum, their movements slow and rigid. Greenbrier had gone back to being old Greenbrier.
My first stop was when I saw Nurse Sally talking with Doctor Silver. They seemed to be discussing something of a personal nature. I think they were in love but weren't letting on. They made a cute couple and would have beautiful children.
"Excuse me," I said.
"Oh, hi, Griselda," Sally said.
"Hello," said Doctor Silver. He looked at Sally. "So you'll take care of that . . . matter," he said.
"Yes, Doctor, just as soon as I can."
I figured that was code for, "I'll meet you in the parking lot the minute my shift is over."
"I was wondering if there was any news on Haddie Grace," I said.
Sally's eyes grew wide. "You mean you haven't heard?"
My stomach sank as I immediately thought the worst. "No. What happened? Did Haddie—"
"Oh, dear Lord," Ruth said.
"No, no, it's good news. Haddie is awake and responding to treatment. She should be back by the New Year."
"Really? Wow. That's amazing."
"Yeah, considering . . . "
"Considering what?" I asked.
"Boy, were you on vacation or something? The rumor is that a funny little man visited her. Then she got better."
"Leon," Ruth and I said together. "Leon Fontaine."
"That's the story," Sally said. "Except no one has seen him since. The hospital called Mildred, but by the time she arrived, he was splitsville."
I laughed. "That Leon. He's a pip."
Agnes was in her usual spot, looking out the window from her wheelchair. I wondered if she ever left the room. There were activities and such she could participate in if she wanted, but I had never seen her or heard from the nurses or doctors that Agnes ever went anywhere. The nursing home room had become an extension of the viewing room at the funeral home. But, hopefully, that was about to change. She would get out into the world again, feel the fresh air, sunshine, and the chill breeze against her skin. I hoped it would be invigorating.
"Agnes," Ruth said as we entered the room. "I got your dress all ready for a fitting."
"Fitting?" Agnes said. "You mean you got to try it on me?"
"Hey, Agnes," I said. "Ruth would feel better if she knew the dress fit you correctly."
"Yeah, it wasn't easy to make it. I had to piece together three patterns and—"
"But how are you gonna do it? The aides have enough trouble just getting me into a housedress in the morning let alone a bridesmaid dress."
"Well, what did you think?" I said with irritation building. "You were gonna wear a housedress in my wedding?"
"No, of course not," she said.
My goodness, but it seemed everyone had a case of sour grapes that day.
"Now come on," I said. "Let's try the dress on."
Ten minutes later, we had somehow managed to get the pretty dress slipped over Agnes's head. She looked like a giant beefeater tomato, all red and puffed out.
"It would be easier if you could stand up," Ruth said. "Can you?"
"Not without help," Agnes said. "It usually takes two people."
"Well, I haven't forgotten how," I said. "Remember I used to walk you back and forth to the bathroom a few times a day."
"And you're lighter," Ruth said.
"OK, but don't hurt me," Agnes said.
I reached under her armpits and pulled as she lifted herself out of the chair. Ruth held tight to the chair that wanted to move even with the brakes on. "One, two, three," I counted, and Agnes was standing.
"I need my walker."
Ruth grabbed it and placed it in front of Agnes. She held fast to the walker. The dress flowed down nearly to the floor. The crinoline puffed it out. Ruth straightened the skirt, the sleeves, the pullover blouse.
"It looks good," Ruth said. "I think it fits you well." Agnes looked at herself the best she could. "I'll have to take your word on it."
"Wish we had a full-length mirror," Ruth said.
"You look nice, Agnes," I said. "And with the hat you'll be the prettiest maid of honor."
Agnes took some steps toward the window. "There's that stone pathway that leads to the gazebo," she said. "I wonder if I can make it down—walking."
"You think?" I said.
"I'd sure as shootin' like to try. Maybe Ruth or someone can follow behind with the wheelchair in case I need to sit."
I looked at Ruth.
"Sure. I can do that. We'll decorate your chair with some holly and poinsettias and maybe hang a few ornaments from it—you know Christmas it up."
Agnes laughed. "Let's do it."
"Now Agnes," Ruth said as she tugged on the right sleeve. "This sleeve feels a bit snug. I can fix it."
"No, no it's fine. Don't worry about it."
"You sure? I suppose we'll need to make arrangements with the nursing staff to have you dressed and ready for the wedding."
"True," I said. "I'll tell Sally to have her ready by eleven o'clock."
"Good, that will be plenty of time."
"What time is the wedding?" Agnes asked.
"Noon," I said. "I originally wanted to get married in the evening but Zeb and I decided it would make more sense with some warmth from the sun."
Ruth and I got Agnes out of the dress and back into her purple housecoat. She looked a bit red in the face and tuckered out from the ordeal but happy enough.
"Agnes," I said. "I asked Ruth to be my second maid of honor. So it's good that you two will be walking down the aisle together."
"Oh, really? You did that?"
"Sure."
"This way," Ruth said, "I can be the maid of honor that does stuff."
Agnes looked away.
"Ah, gee, I'm sorry," Ruth said. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings but you need to face facts sometimes."
Ruth looked at me. "I know. It just makes me so mad—"
"At me?" Ruth said.
"No, at me. If I wasn't in this—" she slapped her thigh— "this predicament I could be a proper maid of honor."
"I'm not worried," I said. "It's just how I want it to be. Say," I said in an effort to change the subject, "did you hear that Haddie Grace is up and doing well? It seems that Leon Fontaine paid her a little visit."
"No kidding," Agnes said. "You think he might have actually had something to do with her recovery?"
I shook my head. "I can't say for certain, but it is uncanny."
"Uncanny," Ruth said.
"Is Mildred still out to arrest him?" Agnes asked.
"Yeah. She's been searching everywhere. But every time she thinks she caught up with him, he disappears."
"I think he's got a bit of leprechaun in him." Ruth folded Agnes's skirt neatly and placed the blouse on a hanger.
We talked a few more minutes about Leon and the Fountain of Youth. Agnes even remarked how different everyone was now that Leon hadn't been visiting.
"It's like a nursing home again," she said.
I looked at the clock after a while. It was nearing twelve o'clock. I needed to be at the town hall to start getting things ready for the Christmas parade.
"It starts at six o'clock sharp," I said.
"Who's Grand Marshal?" Agnes asked.
"Cliff Cardwell," I said. "They thought it would be exciting to have an actual pilot in the parade. He'll wear his bomber jacket and his flight wings. The kids will love it. He's like a hero or a movie star to them."
"Wings?" Ruth said.
"Yeah, silver wings. It's like a brooch. All pilots have them."
"Except you," Agnes said.
"Oh, I'll get
my wings one of these days."
"You OK with Cliff leading the parade?" Agnes asked.
"Sure. I'm all over him. I was just in love with what he represented. Zeb is comfortable. I thought being in love meant having big feelings, no appetite, you know getting into minor accidents and such. But then, I realized that in love could mean being content. Zeb makes me feel content."
I looked out the window toward the gazebo, "And in a couple of days, I'll be Mrs. Zeb Sewickey."
"All content and happy," Agnes said.
"Right," I said, just as Cliff's plane flew over the trees.
25
By 4:30 that afternoon, Filbert Street was lined with Bright's Pond residents awaiting the start of the annual Christmas Parade. "Silver Bells" blared from the speaker as light flurries fell onto the grass and streets. I waited on the town hall steps with Zeb for the participants to file past so I could check them off my parade list. It was nearly dark and so cold I thought my nose might freeze and snap off. Zeb kept his arm around me and encouraged me to keep moving.
Large oil drums with warming fires had been placed at careful intervals so people could warm their hands and, as I had seen many times, roast a marshmallow or two. Some folks brought lawn chairs but most of the people stood holding hands with children or locked in the embrace of a spouse. A twelve-foot Douglas fir tree cut from the woods and hauled by Nate Kincaid stood proudly in the center of town. Nate told me he strung four hundred lights on it. The tree was topped with a huge gold star that twinkled against the night sky. It was a warm sight on a frosty evening.
Cliff showed up in a 1942 Packard driven by Claude Monroe. He owned the largest Plymouth dealership in Shoops and never passed up an opportunity to advertise. A long red banner with the words "Monroe Plymouth—Have We Got a Deal For You" in bold letters hung from the doors.
Cliff looked handsome enough in his jacket and jeans. His wings had been polished and he certainly brought his best smile. He waved at Zeb and me.
Also in the car with him was Boris Lender along with the Mayor of Shoops and Asa Kowalski, manager of the Paradise Trailer Park. Mayor Yost was a large man with broad shoulders and, like Boris, had a penchant for fat cigars. The acrid smoke swirled above their heads. Every so often Cliff waved it away.
"Where's the marching band?" I asked Zeb. They're supposed to step off first—before Cliff.
"They'll be here. Probably staying warm until the last minute."
"I hope so. The Moose Lodge will follow Cliff and then the characters." I held a clipboard and had been checking floats and people off as they arrived. The SOAP Float was always somewhere in the middle, and they collected donations along the parade route in coffee cans, which seemed to surprise everyone since they liked to do their charitable giving in secret. I supposed collecting didn't need to be so private.
The Paradise Angels softball team led by Charlotte Figg arrived in a truck driven by one of the Frost sisters. They assembled in their float, which was parked off to the side. It was a flatbed truck with a smallish softball field on it made from fake grass. A scoreboard constructed from plywood and painted by the high school art club stood on one side. The Angels looked cold in their uniforms. But everyone seemed good-natured and in the Christmas spirit. A speaker on the float blasted "Take Me Out to the Ballgame."
I was relieved when I saw the band line up. "Oh, good," I said. "They're here."
At precisely five o'clock the Bright's Pond High School Marching Band stepped off playing their version of "Jingle Bells." If you listened real close you could make out the tune. The Bright's Pond High School Marching Band never won a competition or garnered invitations from the big cities like the Shoops High School Band. The gathering crowd cheered and applauded as the parade participants made their way down Filbert Street toward the church and the town limit. Zeb and I followed the parade on foot.
Cliff waved and tossed candy canes and lollipops to the children while Boris acted like they were best friends. He was followed by Frosty the Snowman, three reindeer including Rudolph whose nose blinked red. There was a gingerbread man and a Christmas tree, also battery-operated and blinking thanks to the ingenuity of Nate Kincaid.
The characters were followed by the nativity float. I managed to talk Charlamaine Lincoln into allowing Mercy to play Mary again. Mercy looked so proud. She smiled wide, but I will admit it seemed just a little strange to see the mother of Jesus handing out candy canes. Next came cheers for the Paradise Angels. Dressed in their uniforms, they held bats and tossed a ball around and, of course, tossed more candy canes and ribbon candy to the crowd. The team looked pretty chilly. Charlotte nearly busted her buttons she was so proud standing there with her almost championship team.
Except I couldn't help feeling a little disturbed when I heard one of the teenagers along the route call out that Ginger Rodgers would have made a better elf.
A big red tractor spouting black smoke pulled the Society of Angelic Philanthropy. They were all dressed in green dresses with red hats, even Ruth who reluctantly agreed to ride along.
Then came the Safety float headed up by Mildred Blessing. She tossed candy but also Christmas tree safety tips to the parade goers. She waved as she passed by, but I could tell even from where I sat in the grandstand that Mildred had her eagle eye out for Leon Fontaine.
Forty minutes later, Santa Claus arrived last in a sleigh pulled by two live reindeer borrowed from the Shoops County Zoo. The children loved it and cheered and cheered as Santa tossed out small packages of candy and gum and mints and games of jacks and pick-up sticks.
An hour later the streets were empty except for leftover trash, candy wrappers, and cups that once held steaming coffee or hot chocolate. It was tradition that, after the parade, everyone gathered at the pond for ice-skating, but that had been canceled this year. So folks gathered their children and headed back to their homes, tired and happy.
"So, how about it, Grizzy? Wanna slap on the skates and twirl with me anyway?"
I folded my arms against my chest. "It's really cold. And I'm tired. And besides, don't you have your bachelor party tonight?"
"Yeah, but that can wait. I'm just meeting Stu and Boris and a few of the boys at Personals. I don't care if I go or not."
"You have to go. They planned this for you."
"I guess. I'd really rather spend the night with you."
I looked into his eyes. He kissed me and then pulled me into a warm embrace as the flurries thickened around us.
"OK," I said. "You better get going. I'm going home to finish up some last-minute stuff before the big day tomorrow."
We walked hand in hand toward my house.
"You know," Zeb said. "There is one thing we haven't talked about."
"What's that?"
"The honeymoon."
I walked another step or two. "Oh, you're right. Are we that settled that we haven't even thought about where we would go?"
"Uh-huh. But I've been thinking, and well, you know how I don't like to spend money."
"Everyone does."
"How would you like to go up to Jack Frost for three nights? I called and got us a package deal. We'll get one of them honeymoon specials they have up there. You know the room with the giant champagne glass bathtub that shoots water out in all directions."
"Champagne glass?"
"They got round beds, too, Grizzy, perfectly round. Or you can get a heart-shaped tub. And a TV with a remote control, Grizzy. Imagine that. Remote control. We can watch TV from the champagne glass."
"What's the point of that?"
"That's just it. There is no point. We'll just think about having fun. We can ski or sit by the fire in the lodge and drink hot chocolate and eat some of the best food in the Poconos. I checked and The Velvet Fog is headlining."
"Mel Tormé? You mean Mel Tormé is going to be at Jack Frost?"
"Yep. What do you say?"
"I love Mel Tormé. And I hear when he knows a couple is on their honeymoon he always says something to th
em and invites them backstage."
"Yeah, so it sounds like a plan then?"
"Let's go." I flung my arms around his neck. "I really do love you. And not just because you're taking me to see Mel Tormé."
We walked a few more paces and finally reached my house.
"And guess what else?" Zeb said.
"What?" I couldn't imagine anything more exciting than a champagne glass tub and Mel Tormé.
"I already asked Stu and he's letting us take the Caddy. We will ride in style all the way."
"Oh, Zeb. Its sounds wonderful. Just us for three whole days."
We said good night and Zeb opened the door for me. "Just think, tomorrow night I won't have to say good night to you on the porch."
Zeb went off to his bachelor party, and I walked into my empty house for the last time.
26
Christmas Eve arrived in not so much the same way as in years past. When Agnes and I still lived together, I always had something planned for the day—usually some last-minute shopping, cookie delivery, and gift-wrapping. Agnes liked to have folks come by so she could hand out gifts and catch up on what she called her end-of-the-year prayers.
Some folks obliged with a list of wants and desires and left behind packages for Agnes to open later. Sometimes the packages held foods and candies but often the gifts were a little more sensible, at least for Agnes, and consisted of pretty sachets for her drawers, picture frames with images of the town in them, or even a book.
But this Christmas Eve arrived quietly. I sat in the kitchen sipping coffee and looking over the list I had made for the wedding. It seemed everything had been taken care of and now it was just a matter of getting through the day. It seemed impossible to wait five hours.
