A Christmas to Remember

by Thomas Kinkade

  The rose garden was hot and sunny. Lillian was relieved to pass through the far gate and onto a wide gravel path, bordered by high shady trees on either side.

  “What do you think of my family?” Oliver asked.

  “They seem very nice.” Lillian wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry about your brother,” she said sincerely. “That’s a huge loss.”

  “Yes, it is. I looked up to Harry. I thought he was…indestructible. It’s hard to believe I was the one who came back and he didn’t. I’ve often wished it had turned out the other way around.”

  “That’s a very selfless wish.”

  Oliver shrugged. “It would have been easier for everyone that way. Harry was my parents’ favorite, the good son. I’m not saying they don’t love me; sometimes I think they love me too much. It’s just that I’ve always been more trouble for them. Harry never gave them a moment’s worry. He was more like my father, though even more conservative. He was going to take over the family business.”

  “And now?” Lillian asked, curious.

  “I never planned on staying here, but now I feel obliged to. Even though my father has qualms about my aptitude to run things. So do I, for that matter.”

  His honesty and winsome smile moved her someplace deep inside. He took her hand and she didn’t resist. They continued walking down the alley of tall trees, leafy branches arching high overhead, like a thick green canopy.

  Lillian understood things a little better now. Oliver felt pressured to please his parents, to fill the gap left by his older brother. Maybe he even felt pressured to settle down and get married again.

  They turned a bend on the path, and Lillian spotted Lilac Hall through a gap in the trees. It was set on a hill overlooking a sweeping meadow, the woods beyond and the dark blue harbor beyond that. It would be hard to imagine a more beautiful setting. Or a more beautiful home.

  “How old is the mansion?” she asked Oliver.

  “My father built it after the first war. It’s a copy of a great house in Europe. He imported all the stones from Belgium—even those gargoyles peering over the rooftop—had them brought over on a ship. He brought the stone masons, too. My mother was the one who decided it would be called Lilac Hall, though. She had about a hundred lilac bushes planted on the main drive…over there, see?”

  He put his arm around her shoulder and pointed. Lillian nodded, though she didn’t really see what he was talking about. She was too conscious of his touch and his sudden nearness to care about a hedge of lilacs.

  “It’s quite a sight when they bloom in the spring.”

  “I can imagine.”

  He finally stepped away and took her hand again, and they continued walking. Lillian felt her head clear, but not completely.

  He turned to her. “What do you think of the house, Lily? Does it meet with your approval?”

  “It’s stunning. I’ve always wanted to see the inside,” she confessed.

  Lillian had often seen the mansion from a distance and had heard about the grandeur of the house and estate. It was an unexpected thrill to see it all firsthand.

  “I’m glad you like it. I thought we would live here once we’re married. We’ll have our own wing, plenty of privacy.” He gestured with his hand, pointing out the section of the house he was referring to.

  Lillian was dumbstruck for a moment then felt annoyed at him. “You have to stop talking like that, Oliver. It’s just…nonsense, that’s all.”

  Oliver didn’t debate with her. “My parents like you, I can tell they do. Especially my mother.”

  “Your mother seems like a lovely woman. But whether she likes me or not is fairly…irrelevant.” Lillian turned to face him. “We’ve been having a nice time the last few days, but that’s all there is, Oliver. I’m sorry. It’s just…just a little affair. Can you think of it that way?”

  Oliver laughed. “I would be happy to show you what a little affair is, Lillian, but you’re not that type of girl. You’re the kind a man marries. If he’s lucky. I would marry you in an instant. I would marry you tomorrow,” he insisted.

  “You know that’s not true,” she told him, crossing her arms over her chest and gazing out at the rolling meadow and blue sea and sky above it. “Why even say it? Are you trying to shock me?”

  “It is true. Maybe if I say it enough, you won’t be shocked anymore.”

  Lillian didn’t answer. It was hard to keep his words from affecting her. He sounded so sure, so confident, so sincere. She knew it was all an act to win her over. Still, it confused her. She had feelings for him, strong feelings, but so far, she had been able to keep them under control.

  Oliver put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “I love you, Lily. I know it seems fast, but that’s the way it is sometimes. I knew it from the first time I saw you, the first time I heard your voice. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for one minute.”

  Lillian tried to pull away, but he held her firmly.

  “Please, Oliver. Please stop saying these things to me.”

  “I won’t stop, not until I tell you everything. I’m sure of what I feel for you. It’s not a whim. I know you don’t feel the same right now. But I think someday you will. I’ll do everything in my power to make you fall in love with me. I’ll wait as long as I have to.” He stared down at her. “What do you think? Is there a chance for us?”

  Lillian was overwhelmed. She didn’t know what to say and even if an answer had come to mind, she didn’t feel capable of uttering a coherent sentence.

  One or twice, men had professed feelings for her. But nothing this sudden or passionate. She searched Oliver’s dark eyes for the slightest trace of insincerity and couldn’t find any. And that’s what scared her the most.

  Oliver didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled her closer and kissed her deeply. Her arms twined around his neck and she kissed him back. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, kissing and holding each other. Then Oliver led her off the path to a shady spot under a tree. They lay down on the soft grass together, and Oliver pulled her close again. Lillian closed her eyes and felt suddenly and totally lost. She knew she should tell him to stop—or just push him away and go. But she couldn’t will herself to do it. She felt as if everything were happening to her in a dream, a beautiful dream that she didn’t want to end.

  A strange and unprecedented thought came to her. What if, just this once, she told him what was in her heart? Without worrying about consequences, or the future, or what anybody would think. This will be my fling, like Charlotte said, Lillian decided. Every woman who’s been jilted by a fiancé is entitled to at least one.

  Oliver lifted his head. He kissed her softly on the lips again, then the nose and then each of her closed eyelids. He stroked her hair with his fingers. It had come totally undone. Lillian had no idea where all her hairpins had gone and, for once, didn’t care. She opened her eyes as he kissed her again, wanting to see every detail and memorize it for the rest of her life.

  Oliver stared into her eyes a moment, his face very close. Then he sighed and sat up. He pulled out his silver case and lit a cigarette. “I had better take you back to Newburyport. It’s getting late. I don’t want your aunt and uncle to be worried about you.”

  “I’m sure Charlotte’s made up some story,” Lillian said. “But you’re right. I should go.”

  She sat up slowly and pushed her hair to one side with her hand. She felt…different. She wasn’t sure why. She never felt this way after George had kissed her, no matter how long and athletic their tussles.

  Oliver had been a perfect gentleman. Well, not too perfect. But he had been very respectful. He had said she was the kind of girl a man marries, and that’s how he had treated her.

  Still, she felt different. More knowing somehow.

  She glanced at Oliver. He really was so handsome. It took her breath away. She reached over and touched his shoulder, almost to make sure she wasn’t just imagining all this.

  He tur
ned his head and smiled at her, then kissed her fingertips.

  He stubbed out his cigarette in the grass, jumped up and tugged her hand. They followed the path to the front of the house. A shiny black sedan and a white convertible were parked in the circular drive. Oliver chose the black sedan. He opened the door for Lillian and helped her into the passenger side then got behind the wheel.

  “I never got to say good-bye to your parents and thank them for lunch,” Lillian said as they pulled away from the house.

  “Don’t worry. They’re not stuck on formality. I’ll thank them for you.”

  They didn’t talk much on the drive back. Oliver put his arm around her shoulder and Lillian sat close to him. When they pulled up in front of Charlotte’s house, Lillian felt nervous. It was nearly seven. The sun was starting to set. She had been gone all day. She couldn’t imagine what Charlotte had told her parents and was afraid they were going to be angry with her, maybe even call her parents.

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” Oliver said.

  “No, don’t.” Lillian shook her head. “It’s better if you just go.”

  Before he could argue, she leaned over and quickly kissed him on the cheek. “Good night, Oliver.”

  Without looking back at him, she ran up to the front door of Charlotte’s house. The door was open and she let herself in. She looked back at the street through the screen door. Oliver lifted his hand and drove away.

  Lillian pressed her head against the screen for a moment. Then she turned and listened. The house seemed empty. She hadn’t noticed a car in the driveway, but someone must be home if they left the door open.

  Charlotte appeared at the top of the stairs. “Lily, you’re back. Thank goodness you beat my parents home.”

  Lillian started to climb the stairs. “Where are they?”

  “They went to a barbeque and were playing bridge after. I told my mother that we ran into Penny outside of church and she took you to Rockport, to look in the galleries.”

  “That was a good excuse.”

  “I thought so,” Charlotte said proudly. “I had a dreadfully boring day. Lunch with Muriel Granger’s dull-but-successful son. I bet you had an interesting day, though.” Charlotte’s eyes widened. “So? Tell all.”

  Lillian glanced at her cousin then passed her at the top of the stairway and walked into the bedroom. She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell all. Not even to Charlotte.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cape Light, Early December, Present-day

  “OF COURSE, YOUTHINKYOU LOVE HIM. YOU’RE BARELY twenty-five years old. You’re liable to think a lot of things.” Lillian sat stiffly in her wheelchair, her gaze fixed on her granddaughter. “I thought you had some sense in that pretty head. Or you would at least, at some point, wake up and smell the coffee.”

  Sara crossed her arms over her chest. “I did wake up and smell the coffee. Just this morning. Luke makes wonderful coffee. He uses fresh beans.”

  Lillian made a sour face. “Please! Spare me the details of your honeymoon. Too much information, as the teenagers say.”

  Lillian appeared to have recovered her energy for arguing, despite her casts and the bruise around her eye that had turned an amazing shade of bluish purple.

  Sara forced herself to look at the bruise, reminding herself that her grandmother was still a frail, injured old woman whom she shouldn’t be upsetting. “Are you finished yet?” she asked quietly.

  “Finished? I’ve barely begun. He pressured you into this, didn’t he? Tell the truth. He used to be a policeman. And given the age difference between the two of you, I’ll bet he used all kinds of psychological manipulation.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I mean. Or are you so brainwashed by this…this Svengali that you aren’t even aware of what’s happened to you?”

  “Who in the world is Svengali?”

  Lillian peered at her through narrowed eyes. “Why don’t you goo-goo it later and find out for yourself?”

  “You mean google it?” Sara fought hard not to laugh.

  “You have grounds for an annulment. I should have told your mother. She could have started working on it. She knows people. She could pull some strings.”

  “Emily has no objections to our marriage. She likes Luke. She’s always liked him.”

  “Of course she would say that. She’s so naive about people. I blame her for this entirely. She should have broken up that relationship long ago.”

  “Emily would have never done anything like that.” That’s more Lillian’s style, Sara thought. Even if Emily had doubts about Luke, she would have found some reasonable way to express them; she never would have confronted Sara with ultimatums.

  “She doesn’t realize how he’s pressured and intimidated you. Go on, you can tell me. I’ve seen it on TV. It happens all the time.”

  Sara could have screamed with frustration. Her grandmother watched too many daytime talk shows; they put all kinds of crazy ideas in her head. Of course, Lillian would never admit to watching daytime TV; she claimed all she ever watched was the evening news and the History Channel.

  “No one has been intimidated, Lillian. No one has been pressured. We’ve been engaged for nearly a year. That’s not exactly the case of a kidnapped bride.”

  Lillian pursed her lips and adjusted the afghan that lay across her legs. “I refuse to accept or recognize this hasty, ill-advised union.” When Sara didn’t respond, she added, “Can’t you see what you’ve gotten yourself into? The man is a professed failure, a dishonored law officer whose greatest accomplishment is kicking a drug and alcohol habit. Of course, no one ever really gets free of that sort of thing. That’s why they always say recovery and not recovered.”

  Sara felt the blood rush to her head. “That’s it. You’ve gone too far!”

  Lillian gave her an innocent stare. “Isn’t it true?”

  Sara was so angry she could barely speak. It was true in part, but not the way Lillian painted it.

  Luke had hit a low point in his life after the shoot-out that damaged his leg and killed his partner. His fiancée had deserted him, and his family had lost their patience. He had been in deep pain, physically and emotionally, medicating himself with drugs and alcohol. But that had been only a phase.

  By the time Luke came to Cape Light, he had cleaned up his act. He had realized he wanted to live, not kill himself in small doses. He told Sara everything about his past soon after they met. They had been together now for several years, and she had no reason to worry that such a thing would ever be a problem.

  “Yes, Luke was a failure,” she admitted to her grandmother. “He failed miserably at being a cop because he never really wanted to be one. That was his father’s dream. But he had the courage to face it, to get up and try again, to find a purpose in life that is truly meaningful for him. If you ask me, Luke’s greatest accomplishment has been building the New Horizons center, especially considering that he had to fight a lot of opposition to bring it here. You’re totally wrong. Luke is anything but a failure.”

  “Oh, yes, a great success story. He renovated a bunch of broken-down cottages and made a school for delinquents out of it. Just what we all needed around here. How did we ever live without that place? I’ll never know.”

  Sara started to reply then stopped herself. There would be no winning this argument. Why had she ever thought she could?

  She poured herself a cup of tea from the silver service Lillian liked to use daily. Her hand shook slightly as she stirred in a spoonful of sugar. She noticed the gold band on her finger and drew strength and courage from the sight of it.

  She was married now. The time for debate was over. She didn’t have to sit and listen to another word.

  “If you want me to stay the night, I will. If not, I’ll call Emily or Jessica. Maybe one of them can come and stay with you.”

  Lillian shifted in her chair. “What about him? Where will he be?”

  “Does he have a name?” Sara asked
mildly. “Or shall we call him…Nemo?”

  She set the cup down on the table and picked up a cookie. Her grandmother was one of the few people Sara knew literate enough to understand that quip, knowing that Nemo meant no one in Latin.

  Lillian’s eyes narrowed. “You know very well who I’m talking about. Your…husband.” She said the word so softly, Sara could hardly hear it.

  “My husband, Luke, is home. I thought you and I should have this conversation alone. I didn’t think you were ready to see him.”

  “You were wise not to bring him. I would have told him to leave.”

  That was not the answer Sara had hoped for. She had hoped to smooth things over with Lillian then call Luke and have him meet her here. Luke had been less optimistic. He wouldn’t be at all surprised when she told him the coast wasn’t clear.

  “All right. I’ll stay over with you tonight. But Emily will have to call around tomorrow and arrange for a nighttime attendant.”

  “As you wish.”

  “No, Lillian, as you wish,” Sara corrected her.

  Lillian gripped the armrests of the wheelchair. “I would like to go back to my room and get in bed. This fruitless argument has exhausted me.”

  “All right. I’ll take you into the bedroom if you like.”

  As Sara rolled Lillian’s chair toward the bedroom, she felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe she shouldn’t have argued so strenuously. She didn’t want to cause a high blood pressure episode. But Lillian was so stubborn and insistent. She made the most outrageous comments. It was hard for anyone to hold their temper with her.

  In the bedroom Sara helped Lillian change into her nightgown and then helped her into bed. Her grandmother opened a book and dismissed Sara with a curt nod.

  “If you need anything, I’m right outside,” Sara reminded her.

  “I’ll be fine. Good night.” Lillian spoke without looking up from her book.

  Sara turned and left the room, leaving the door ajar.

  She was sorry that her grandmother had such a block against Luke. Her marriage was causing a huge rift between herself and Lillian, and that thought made her sad.