He was still trying to process the fact that she had never received his proposal.
Donna pulled the first letter out and began to read aloud.
Jim sat back in his chair and stared at his glass of mulled wine, but didn’t really see it. He was thinking of the words he’d written to her all those years ago, lying on his bed in his dorm room, when his whole life was in front of him. A life that was to include Donna by his side.
Donna read each letter out loud. Midway through, she stood up and put together a plate of Christmas cookies. When she set the plate down in front of him, he looked at her and saw that her eyes were wet.
“Did you want another glass of wine?” she asked, her voice suddenly high.
He shook his head. “No thanks.”
“Will I make a pot of coffee?” she asked. “We’ve still got the rest of the box to go through.” She paused and then added quickly, “Unless of course, you don’t want to.”
“No, I want to go through all of them,” he said quietly. “Coffee is good.”
He was grateful for the change to a topic of something as mundane as coffee. His insides were in a turmoil. This was what repercussions and consequences felt like. For the first time, he could feel it physically. It felt like a kick in the gut.
Nothing was said as Donna moved around the kitchen making coffee. The air around them was charged with what might have been. And all that had been lost. She made them sandwiches and set them on the table with two cups of coffee. Before she sat down, she put sugar and creamer in the middle of the table.
After she fixed her coffee, she put her cheaters back on and picked up the next letter. They sat like that for the next hour, sipping coffee and eating sandwiches. Closing his eyes, he listened to her voice, thinking it sounded pretty much like it had three decades before.
“Jim, have you fallen asleep?”
He opened his eyes and shook his head. “No. When we used to talk on the phone, I always closed my eyes so I could concentrate on just your voice.”
“I didn’t know that,” Donna said.
He gave her small smile. “Now you do.”
She’d arrived at the last letter. She read it slowly, her voice breaking on the last line: “All my love forever, Jim.” Quickly, she pulled herself together. But Jim noticed her chin quivering. Without looking at him, she folded the letter and slid it carefully back into its envelope.
“That was the last letter I had from you,” she said quietly. “It was dated December 8th.”
Neither said anything. They sat there with the box of letters from decades ago between them.
Jim finally spoke. “I wanted you to marry me, Donna.”
Donna nodded.
“Do you believe me?” he asked.
She looked down at her hands in her lap and nodded her head. “Yes,” she said softly.
“But you never got the letter,” he stated. For the first time in his life, he felt old. And weary.
“When you were home at Christmas, you just weren’t yourself,” Donna said. “You were so anxious.”
“I knew that the probability of me going into war was very high. I was nervous.”
Donna regarded him with a thoughtful expression.
“I didn’t know how long the war was going to last and I didn’t want you tied down, waiting around for me.”
“I would have waited.” She sighed.
“Do you remember our very last conversation? The last thing you said to me?” he asked.
“I do.” She looked down at her hands, folded on the table. “I said you could change your mind about ending things between us, and to just let me know.” For a minute, Donna didn’t say anything, as if she was trying to gather her thoughts. “I knew you were stressed and I wanted you to know that you could take it back.”
“That’s all I thought of when I went back. I kept asking myself, ‘What did you just do, you idiot?’”
“When I never heard back, I just assumed you were serious about breaking up.”
“Oh, Donna,” he groaned.
The reality of the situation bogged them down.
Jim finally stood up, his legs feeling heavy, as if he’d been walking through sand on a hot day. “I should go.”
“Okay.” Donna nodded without looking at him. She went out to the back hall and grabbed his jacket.
“I’ll see you around,” he said quietly. He needed to get out of there. The thought of going home depressed him. More than anything, he needed to walk. The cold, crisp night air would clear his head.
“Do you still have my letters?” Donna asked.
With great regret, Jim shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. After Carol and I were married, she found them and threw them out.”
“Oh, okay,” Donna said.
Was it? Jim wondered, as he pulled on his coat and headed down the stairs.
“Your husband didn’t mind you’d saved those letters?” he asked.
Donna shook her head. “No.”
Jim paused with his hand on the door. He turned and looked up at her. Her arms were crossed. She wore a heavy navy sweater and a pair of jeans. And she was still as beautiful as he remembered.
“Donna, can I ask you a question?”
She nodded. He drank her in: the auburn hair, the bright green eyes. He had to know. It would be some sort of closure at least, no matter what the answer.
“If that letter hadn’t been lost, if you’d seen my proposal . . .” he said, swallowing hard. He did not take his eyes off her. “What would your answer have been?”
Donna did not hesitate. “Yes. My answer would have been yes.”
Chapter 5
Where it had seemed Jim was popping up everywhere, just as suddenly, he’d disappeared. Days went by without Donna seeing him again. At work, she glanced out the window regularly, hoping to get a glimpse of him somewhere on Main Street.
The revelation of that lost letter had left Donna reeling. Without a doubt, she knew that if she had received that letter, she would have married Jim. And although she’d always wanted to remain in Orchard Falls, at twenty, she would have gone anywhere with him. The knowledge that had she received that letter her life would have gone on a much different trajectory occupied every waking thought. At first. But then, one evening in her kitchen as she waited for Brent to stop over after work, she started thinking about her late husband, Brad.
Brad had been in her business class at college. She’d hardly noticed him because he was so quiet and always sat in the back of the classroom. Brad had been the complete opposite of Jim. Three months after Jim had dumped her, Brad had approached her one day after class and asked her out, and she’d said yes, her only goal being to forget Jim and recover from her heartbreak. A rebound relationship.
But then a funny thing had happened. As she got to know Brad, she’d realized he had a thoughtful manner, he was kind, and he was funny. They shared the same values, and their opposite personalities acted as a magnet. Within eighteen months, they had married and Brent had come along. Their marriage, though cut short, had been a happy one.
“Hi, Mom,” called a voice from the hallway.
“I’m in here,” Donna replied.
Her kitchen table was covered in baking trays of dog treats in the shapes of stars, bells, and candy canes. A half-empty jar of peanut butter and a pile of carrot peels littered her countertop.
Brent appeared and her eyes filled with tears at the sight of her only child. How on earth could she ever regret not marrying Jim? If she had married Jim, there would have been no Brad. There would be no Brent. Her shoulders sagged as relief flooded through her. Everything was going to be all right. Everything had worked out the way it was supposed to.
“I see you’ve been busy,” Brent said with a laugh.
“Just making some treats for your patients at the clinic,” Donna said with a smile.
“Mom, you’re the best!” Brent said.
Donna turned around and gave a little sniff, not wanting
Brent to see her eyes welling up. She soaked the measuring cups and spoons in the mixing bowl in the sink. Cleanup could wait until later.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Brent said. “Mrs. Jackson’s collie had a reaction to a new dog food so I waited for her to bring the dog into the clinic.”
Pride filled Donna. He’d probably stayed late to help that dog instead of referring them to the emergency vet hospital. When it came to animals, he couldn’t say no. Knowing that she’d raised a good man was very satisfying.
“I’m glad to hear it. Mrs. Jackson would be heartbroken if anything happened to that dog,” Donna said. “Sit down, Brent, I’ve saved you some dinner.”
Brent washed his hands and pulled up a chair at the table. Donna popped a bowl of homemade beef stew into the microwave. She poured her son a tall glass of water and set it in front of him. When the microwave beeped, she pulled the bowl out and gave it a quick stir with a spoon before setting it in front of him.
“I ran into Mary Ellen Schumacher today,” Brent said.
“Really?”
Brent reddened. “Six-month checkup. She is my dentist, after all.”
Donna waited. There would be more to this. Brent wouldn’t just mention something so casually.
Once he finished chewing, he said, “She wants me to run the talent show for the Festival! Can you imagine me running a talent show?” He paused. “Boy, she doesn’t take no for an answer. It was hard to refuse her; I felt captive in the chair.” He laughed.
Donna didn’t approve when Brent disparaged himself. “Well, why not?”
He grinned and looked at her. “I have no talent, remember? Violin lessons? Soccer? Karate?” He bent his head, shaking it, and laughed. “I was hopeless!”
“You weren’t hopeless!” Donna protested. She wished he wouldn’t talk about himself like that.
Brent’s fork and knife paused midair and he looked at his mother, raising an eyebrow. “Mom, come on.”
“Well, maybe you weren’t talented in those things, but look how talented you are with animals,” she started.
“Mom!” he protested with a laugh.
“No, Brent, seriously. Who took care of that baby bird who fell out of the nest? What about that other bird with the broken wing? And who stopped at the side of the road to take that cat who’d been run over to the vet?”
Brent shrugged. “I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done.”
“And don’t forget Howard,” she continued, referring to his childhood pet. No dog was able to do more tricks than Howard.
“Yeah, Howie was a great dog,” Brent said fondly. “He was so intelligent.”
“Nonsense.” Donna shook her head. “You’re a healer. And that is a talent the world could definitely use more of,” she said with conviction.
Brent laughed and said good-naturedly, “What, like an animal whisperer?”
“Exactly like that!” Donna said. She could see he didn’t believe her. “Do you know how many birds I tried to help as a kid?”
He shook his head and took a gulp of water. When he realized her question wasn’t a rhetorical one, he asked, “How many?”
“Four in total,” she responded. “And they all died. Not one made it.”
He gave half a shrug.
“Mary Ellen asked you to be in charge of the talent show, that’s all. It’s not like she asked you to dance and sing. It would be nice for you to get involved with the festival in some aspect,” she said.
“I am involved,” Brent protested.
Donna tilted her head and gave him a smirk. “Printing up and handing out pamphlets about how pets aren’t just for Christmas morning hardly constitutes being involved.”
“I think it does,” he said.
“Just think about it. Running the talent show, that is,” she said to encourage him. “I mean really, how hard could it be?”
Brent stared at her. “Pretty hard!”
By the time Brent had finished his bowl of candy cane ice cream, Donna had convinced him that running the talent show was just the thing for him to get involved with the community. This would be good for Brent, Donna concluded. It would get him out there. More involved. And most of all, mingling with other people.
On Saturday morning, Donna left her house a few minutes earlier than usual to walk up to the library on Main Street for the weekly knitting meeting. She had her canvas bag of knitting supplies on her arm. She looked over at Jim’s house but all was quiet. His car was not in the driveway. It had now been almost a week since he’d left her house. She hoped he was doing okay. Their discovery had been a blow but there was nothing that could be done about it now. No sense lingering in the past. It was over and behind them.
She made her way through the slush, head down so she could keep an eye on the sidewalk. A car passed her and gave a beep of the horn. When she looked up, she saw Jim going by. She waved as his car disappeared down the street.
The ladies were already gathered at the library in one of the meeting rooms. On a long table against the wall, everyone had laid out what they had completed for the yarn bombing. Most of the members were milling around the table, admiring each other’s work and fretting about whether there was enough time to get everything done.
Betty Held called the meeting together. It was a loose group with no real structure but it worked; they’d been gathering at the library for the last five years and knitting to their hearts’ content. Betty was a natural-born leader and everyone else in the group was quite happy to let her run things informally. For thirty years, Betty had cared for foster children. The general consensus was that if she could do that, she could certainly corral a bunch of knitters.
Once the group quieted down, Betty said, “I’ve got some bad news.”
The group hushed and waited. Donna hoped no one had died. Death was hard enough, but around the holidays it was so much worse.
“Mary Ellen Schumacher broke her wrist yesterday,” Betty announced.
Everybody gasped. The woman next to Donna threw her hand to her chest as if she were trying to hold herself together physically. Someone asked, “Is she all right?”
“She is. She’ll be coming home from the hospital today.” Betty paused. “Mary Ellen called me last night. She’s going to ask all the heads of the committees to take on some extra responsibilities.”
Donna made a mental note to stop over and see Mary Ellen later.
Moving on to the next order of business, Betty went over what they had and what they still needed. Like a commander rallying her troops, she encouraged everyone to step up their game.
The only one sitting was Alice Kempf, Orchard Falls’s oldest resident at ninety-eight. Her cat, Mavis, was the oldest in town at twenty-two. In her gnarled hands was a pair of knitting needles that flew automatically. Alice, a former schoolteacher who’d never married, had been knitting for as long as anyone in town could remember. Donna was pretty sure every baby ever born in Orchard Falls had a knitted cap gifted by Alice in their possession. She’d been placed in charge of knitting a scarf for the statue of Horace, the town’s founder. Alice’s scarf for Horace was blue with intricate white snowflakes. It was gorgeous.
Donna nodded toward Alice and said, “That’s beautiful, Alice. Old Horace is going to look good in that.”
Alice regarded her with her bright blue eyes. “I think so. It’s nice that there’s someone in town older than me.”
Donna laughed. “And you’re making his scarf!”
Alice crowed and the knitting needles never stopped moving. Donna sat down in the chair next to Alice. She set her bag down on the floor next to her and pulled out her needles and yarn. She was in the midst of making something for one of the many tree trunks on Main Street. She’d been assigned three trees in front of the bank and the bakery. She’d gotten their measurements and had begun work immediately.
Alice leaned into Donna and asked, “What’s this I hear Jim O’Hara is back in town? And living next door to you!”
> Donna noticed the older woman, despite her advanced years, did not drop a stitch. Alice’s eyes were keen as she waited for Donna to answer.
“Yes, he is,” Donna said. She laughed. “Funny, isn’t it? How he ended up living next to me?”
Alice nodded. “Must be fate.”
Donna raised her eyebrows. “Must be.”
“You know, everyone used to think you two would end up married,” Alice said. “The two of you seemed so well suited to each other.”
Donna shrugged.
“What happened?”
Donna opened her mouth to say what she’d told herself all these years since, that he’d gone off to war and she’d never heard from him again, but that version of the story no longer rang true. She gave Alice a quick smile, more to reassure herself than anyone else. “It was fate that broke us up.”
“And maybe it’s fate that has brought you back together,” Alice suggested.
Donna spoke hurriedly. “Oh, he just moved in next door. We’re not dating or anything.”
“Not yet,” Alice said with a smile.
“Alice Kempf,” Donna said, looking at her. “You’re the one who once said the reason for your longevity was the fact that you’d never married.”
Alice grimaced. “That was in an interview for my 95th birthday. The questions the interviewer asked were mind-numbing.” She rolled her eyes. “So, I livened it up a bit to make things interesting.”
Donna regarded the other woman with a grin. “You lied?”
Alice cringed. “Lied is a strong word. Embellished is a better one.”
Donna laughed. “So you don’t drink a beer a day?”
One Kiss for Christmas (The Happy Holidays Series Book 4) Page 5
