Alice shook her head. “No, of course not.” She paused and lowered her voice, “But I do have a shot of whiskey every night before going to bed.”
When Donna stopped laughing, she asked. “So you don’t credit not marrying for your longevity?”
Alice’s smile disappeared and she said soberly, “Oh, I do. But that’s not to say I wouldn’t have liked to be married. Or at least asked. Just so I could have said no.” And then the oldest woman in Orchard Falls got a fit of the giggles, and Donna joined her.
Everyone left in good humor and Donna stopped at the town’s coffee shop and got a chai latte to go. She loved the blended smell of cinnamon, cardamom, and nutmeg. She walked down Main Street, looking at all the Christmas displays in the windows. The town’s volunteers were stringing lights across the street and several people had been tasked with hanging either giant red ornaments or silvery snowflakes from the lampposts. Speakers had been set up around town and Judy Garland’s rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” floated out along Main Street as snow fell. It was magical.
Donna loved this time of year in town. Once she reached the end of one side of Main Street, she looked both ways before crossing the street and walked back up the other side. She threw her empty cup into a garbage bin and headed in the direction of home. Donna was halfway up the block when she saw Jim walking in her direction. He trudged along, shoulders hunched, head down, and it reminded her of high-school Jim. He’d always been tall. He was six foot by the time he started high school and by the end of it, he was towering at six four. While they were dating, he’d confided in her how his height made him feel self-conscious. This Jim walking toward her reminded her of that old vulnerability of his.
“Hey, Jim,” she said as he neared her.
His head shot up, surprised. “Oh, hi. I didn’t see you there.”
She gave him a warm smile, “No, you wouldn’t when you’re looking down at the ground.”
He laughed but looked away. “It’s good to see you, Donna.”
He made to walk on, but she reached out for him, looking at him in confusion.
“Are you all right?” she asked. Concern flooded her.
“Yeah, sure, why?” he said hurriedly.
“Jim,” Donna said quietly. It pained her to see him looking so preoccupied. Back in school, she’d thought he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. Those eyes, the broad cheekbones, and the square jaw. After all this time, she still thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
“What, Donna?” he said, looking distracted.
“It’s just that I haven’t seen you around,” Donna explained. She lowered her voice because people, all wrapped up against the weather, walked past them. She wished they were anywhere else but the middle of the sidewalk on Main Street.
“I thought that’s what you wanted,” Jim said sharply.
Donna flinched. “I never said that.”
“I won’t be bothering you anymore,” he said.
She laughed nervously. “That seems extreme.”
Jim looked up and down the street. “Look, Donna, I’ve got to get home. Leah is coming in today.”
“Is Leah your daughter?” she asked, searching his face.
“Yeah, she is,” he said. He looked around as if he either didn’t want to be seen with her or was looking for an escape.
“Jim, maybe we could sit down and talk,” she suggested softly.
He looked at her. “That’s not necessary.” He paused, glanced at his watch and said, “I’ve got to go. See you around.” And he trotted off.
Donna remained rooted to the sidewalk, watching him leaving, her mouth slightly open.
“Oh, Jim,” she whispered.
Donna hurried home, made a pot of cream-of-cauliflower soup, and took it over to Mary Ellen Schumacher’s house.
Mary Ellen lived in a big, old, rambling Victorian on the residential section of Main Street. Her dental practice occupied the front of the former living quarters of the downstairs. The back rooms downstairs and the second and third floors had been converted into a living space for the dentist.
Donna parked her car in the empty parking lot and went to the back door. She knocked, stepped inside, and called out, “Mary Ellen?”
“In here,” came a voice from the other room.
Donna wiped her boots on the mat and stepped into Mary Ellen’s kitchen. After she set the pot on the stove, she followed the sound of the voice into the living room.
Mary Ellen sat in a recliner with her feet up. Her right arm was set in a cast and rested on a pillow. Next to her chair was her orange canary, Creamsicle, in a big cage. With Donna’s arrival, he hopped around his cage, chirping, his wings flapping, but soon settled down. There was a giant Christmas tree in the corner of the room that took up a lot of space but filled the air with a beautiful pine scent.
“Oh, Mary Ellen, what happened?” Donna asked at the sight of her.
Mary Ellen muted the television and set her book down, using an envelope as a bookmark.
“Sit down, Donna,” she instructed.
Donna sat down on the sofa across the room from Mary Ellen and removed her coat.
“One minute I was walking across the parking lot, the next minute I was putting out my arms and breaking my fall. It happened so fast, I don’t know what happened,” she said.
Donna winced in sympathy. “Maybe black ice?”
“Probably.” Mary Ellen sighed. “Of course, it had to be my right hand—it couldn’t have been my left.”
“That’s too bad. Is there anything I can do?” Donna asked.
“Actually, there is. I was going to call you tonight and see if you would mind taking over my role in running the festival,” Mary Ellen said.
Donna’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Me?” she asked in disbelief.
“Why not you?” Mary Ellen asked.
“Because I don’t have any experience,” Donna said. She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, trying to figure a way to refuse without hurting the other woman’s feelings.
“I had no experience either when I started,” Mary Ellen said. “You’ve been involved in the Snowball Festival for as long as I have.”
“And I’ve always been happy with a subordinate role.”
“Yes, but now it’s time to move up,” Mary Ellen pushed.
“Surely there are people more qualified to take over than me,” Donna pointed out. At the same time, she racked her brain trying to think of someone. Christine came to mind but she wouldn’t be too happy if Donna volunteered her without her knowledge or consent. Sarge flashed through her thoughts but Donna wouldn’t do that to the people of Orchard Falls. She still had to live there when this thing was over.
“I can’t think of one,” Mary Ellen said.
Donna hesitated.
“I’ll only be a phone call away. Besides, once the committees are set up—and they are—they more or less are run by their leaders. Your job is to keep everyone on track. Go to one meeting and then keep in touch by email, phone call, or text.” She paused and looked Donna straight in the eye. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t have faith in you.”
Donna wanted to sigh and groan but she pasted a smile on her face and said, “Sure, Mary Ellen, no problem. I can take over.”
“Thanks, Donna, that takes a load off my mind.”
They chatted for another half hour but Donna’s newfound role skated at the back of her mind. Before she left, she heated up some soup for Mary Ellen and buttered a bread roll and served it to her. She didn’t leave until she’d washed the dishes and put the soup in the fridge and Mary Ellen was set with a cup of hot chocolate.
As she left, she promised to be in touch with Mary Ellen to get the names and numbers of those in charge of the other committees.
She closed the door behind her, wondering what she had just agreed to do. And most of all, was she capable of doing it?
Chapter 6
Jim spotted Leah’
s car in his driveway as he approached the house and he picked up his pace, pushing all thoughts of Donna out of his mind. He was breathless and shivering from the cold as he unlocked his side door, and welcomed the heat that greeted him as he opened it.
“Leah!” he called out, bounding into his kitchen. As he did, her cat Tiny waltzed by. That caused Jim to smile. He was even glad to see the cat. “I see you’ve already made yourself at home,” he said to the little feline.
Leah ran down the stairs. He wanted to cry at the sight of her. Right now, she was the only thing he was sure of in the world.
His daughter had his blue eyes but her mother’s blonde, fair-haired looks. “Dad!” she cried, landing in front of him and throwing her arms around him.
He took his only child in his embrace and held her tight. When they pulled apart, he had a lot of questions for her. “Were you waiting long? When did you get in? Are you tired?”
Leah laughed. “Dad, come up for air! I got here about half an hour ago but I remembered you’d said there was a spare key under the flowerpot outside.” Her smile disappeared and she asked, “That was okay, wasn’t it?”
“Of course, of course!” he said. “This is your home, too, honey. And I wouldn’t want you sitting out in the cold.” He pulled open a catch-all drawer and removed a spare key. “Here, I had a key made for you.”
Leah pocketed it. “Thanks. And I’m not tired. Actually, I’m hungry,” she said.
“Good, there’s a new vegan restaurant that opened, and I thought we could go there,” he said. While she was home visiting, he’d respect her commitment and refrain from eating his usual carnivorous fare.
“That sounds great,” she said. “Let me just finish unpacking and I’ll be ready.”
“Good, take your time.” He nodded quickly. “How’s your mother?”
“She’s fine.” Leah peered at him. “Are you all right? You seem tense. Nervous.”
“I’m fine,” he said with a wave of his hand.
As Leah walked through his living room, she glanced around and said, “I see it’s minimalism again this year with the Christmas decorations.” As she ran up the staircase, Jim could hear her laughing.
He was so glad she was there.
Leah’s presence added a welcome distraction to the sobering reality of that one lost letter and how it had irrevocably changed Jim’s life in ways he had not imagined back in high school.
Jim knew he couldn’t ignore Donna forever, especially since she lived next door. On reflection, he admitted to himself that Donna had always been the love of his life. He’d known it in high school, he knew it in college and he never knew it more clearly than when he penned that letter right before the start of Desert Storm. He’d thought of her often over the ensuing years with nostalgia for what had been lost. His fifty-three-year-old self wished he could go back and kick his twenty-five-year-old self in the back end. Why hadn’t he written her or called when he didn’t receive a reply from her? Why? He knew the reason. Because his male pride had been wounded. He’d thrown himself into his career. And then one night, a year after his return from Iraq, he’d met a girl named Carol. She was pretty. And then she ended up pregnant. And he’d done what he thought was the right thing and married her. Which turned out to be disastrous. The only good thing to come out of that was Leah.
He mulled over these things as he made coffee at five in the morning. It was still pitch- black outside. A quick glance out the window showed Donna’s house shrouded in darkness. He was glad someone was able to sleep.
Hazel, Leah’s black-and-gray-striped cat, wound her way around Jim’s legs, meowing.
Jim looked down at her. “Why are you up so early?” Jim had never had pets, as he was always moving around or going abroad during his career. But he did like Hazel. She was a nice cat.
There was a clank and then the sound of forced heat from the vent as the furnace stirred to life. Hazel continued to meow and rub up against Jim’s legs as he fixed himself a cup of coffee.
Before he took his first sip, he picked up the cat and held her. “Would you like your breakfast now?”
The cat purred loudly, and Jim took this as a yes and set her down on the floor. In the pantry, he found the cans of cat food Leah had picked up at the grocery store stacked on the shelf. After scanning them, he looked down at Hazel, who was looking up at him. “Chicken or fish?” Hazel responded with a meow. “I see Leah hasn’t forced her vegan lifestyle on you.” He chose the fish-flavored one, thinking briefly that if the cat was allowed to eat chicken and fish, maybe he could sneak a steak or two by Leah without too much protest. With the sound of the can opener, the other cat, Tiny, made an appearance in the doorway. Jim rolled his eyes. You couldn’t use a can opener in this house without an audience with expectations.
“I suppose you want breakfast, too,” Jim said. He filled both dishes and the cats parked themselves in front of them. He picked up his coffee mug, sat down at the kitchen table, and was soon lost in the past.
January 1991
In his tent, in the middle of the desert, Jim realized he’d made a big mistake. What had he been thinking? What had possessed him to break up with Donna? Of all the stupid things to do! If only he could put everything on hold—hop on a plane and go back to Orchard Falls and apologize.
The air on the base crackled with excitement, uncertainty, and confusion. He wiped sweat off his brow for the one hundredth time. He made a vow that if he made it home alive, he’d never again complain about how cold winter was. If he made it home . . .
He couldn’t get the image of Donna out of his mind. She’d looked absolutely devastated. He’d never felt worse in his life, but at the time he felt he was doing the right thing. Now, he worried that he might not make it home to tell her he’d made a mistake. Or worse, that she’d meet someone else in the meantime. He groaned, ignoring the fact that war was looming large over him at the moment.
He needed her to know how he really felt about her. Hurriedly, he grabbed a sheet of paper and his pen and began to write:
Dear Donna,
When I left you at Christmas, you said if I ever changed my mind about us breaking up to let you know.
This is me, letting you know. This is me changing my mind.
I’ve made a terrible mistake. A huge mistake in breaking up with you. Please forgive me.
When I was home and there was all this talk of war, I thought nothing would frighten me more than going into battle. But I was wrong. The thing that frightens me most is going ahead in life without you by my side. I can do anything—including survive a war—as long as I know you’ll be there for me.
There is no one I could ever love more than you. No one.
I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want us to be together, side by side in this crazy adventure called life.
I love you, Donna, and I’m asking you to marry me.
I ruined your Christmas, but I promise to make it up to you, next Christmas and every Christmas after.
All my love forever,
Jim
Jim didn’t know what to do with himself. For now there was Leah and the preparations for the Snowball Festival to occupy his time, but what would he do in the bleak, cold month of January when Christmas was over? The idea of Florida flitted across his mind and he supposed he could head south for the rest of the winter months. He had buddies all over Florida he could visit. But the thought of heading south by himself depressed him.
The familiar thunk of the morning paper landing on the front porch stirred him from his reveries. He pulled his bathrobe tighter around him and padded to the front door in his slippers. Before he opened the front door, he slipped on his boots and stepped outside into a mound of snow that had drifted onto his porch. Shivering, he grabbed the plastic-wrapped paper and brought it inside, shutting the door quietly behind him so as not to wake his daughter upstairs. He kicked off his boots and slipped back into his slippers, heading to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. Jim unfurled
the paper and laid it out on the table. He’d just scanned the headlines when he noticed the lights going on in Donna’s house next door. He stared for a moment, his thoughts beginning to drift. He gave his head a good shake and turned his focus back to the paper.
Jim wandered into the hardware store to check on the status of the lights for the festival. His old boss was busy with a customer at the service counter but he waved at Jim in acknowledgement. Jim nodded in return and set about walking the aisles and examining the contents of the shelves in the small store. After about ten minutes, Mr. Brenneman met him in the aisle. Jim had just grabbed a gallon of windshield-washer fluid off the shelf.
“That’s on sale this week,” Mr. Brenneman said.
“Good,” Jim said.
“How are you, Jim?”
“Good,” he said. “Just thought I’d stop by and see if the lights were in yet.”
“Actually, I got a batch of lights the other day, but they were too small and I sent them back.”
“Do you know when the new sets will be in?” Jim asked.
“They assure me they’ll be here within the week,” Mr. Brenneman replied.
That would be plenty of time before the festival. Jim nodded. “That’s great.”
“Can I interest you in a bottle of cream soda?” Mr. Brenneman asked with a grin.
Jim laughed. “I’m going to have to take a rain check.”
“All right.”
“I’ll see you around, Mr. Brenneman,” Jim said.
“Are you all right, Jim? You seem a bit out of sorts,” Mr. Brenneman said, his usually relaxed face frowning in concern.
Jim shrugged. He didn’t want to get into the revelation of his lost letter to Donna. For now, and maybe forever, he wanted to keep that private. “Just trying to find my way.”
“Retirement can be tricky. You’re still young, and I bet most of your friends are still in the work force,” Mr. Brenneman noted. “Except for me. You’re stuck with me.”
One Kiss for Christmas (The Happy Holidays Series Book 4) Page 6
