A Vineyard White Christmas

by Katie Winters

  BETH WENT THROUGH THE motions of her early shift. Her arms and legs felt heavy as lead as she assisted an older woman who’d had a stroke and needed to regain use of her arm, as she helped a little boy with inappropriate walking patterns; and then spoke with a middle-aged mother with multiple sclerosis about the approaching years and how her motions would change and what she could do to fight it.

  All the while, a portion of her subconscious thought about Trevor Montgomery.

  When she took her lunch break, she nibbled at the edge of a carrot stick and thought back to the last time she had ever seen her brother, Kurt, alive. She had driven Kurt and Andrew up to Boston, to that cockroach-infested apartment they’d called their “bachelors pad,” or whatever. Thinking back now, she had always had a crush on Andrew; it had pained her to think that he wanted to live somewhere else, away from the island. Still, in her heart of hearts, she had always believed that he and Kurt would return to the Vineyard. Everyone always came back. No matter how complicated it got with family, no matter how dark the memories got, they returned.

  She hadn’t banked on them signing up for the army, though.

  During that first year they had spent in Afghanistan, Beth had run into Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery only a handful of times. Back then, they’d been some of the richest people on the island, rubbing elbows with celebrities and top-notch NYC journalists and even a few politicians. Still, when they spotted her, their eyes would cloud up with the shared memory of Andrew. Worry permeated across their foreheads, even as they smiled and said, “Hello there.”

  They had gone to Kurt’s funeral to pay their respects. In Oak Bluffs, everyone knew everyone else, and devastation had filled the nooks and crannies of the town, so much so that the outpouring of love and support in the wake of Kurt’s death had been almost overwhelming. Beth had blocked out a lot of that time of her life. Maybe Kerry Montgomery had offered a kind word; maybe Trevor Montgomery had given her a hug or a smile. Nothing anybody did had helped at all. Her brother had been her favorite person in the world—her best friend. When he was gone, a part of her died along with him.

  For the record, Trevor and Kerry had gone to Beth’s parents’ funerals as well. Of course, they had. All of Oak Bluffs had, too.

  Although she still had twenty minutes left of her break, Beth dropped her carrot stick back in its plastic baggie and zipped it up before she shoved it back in the lunchbox. Guided by an invisible force, she found her way toward inpatient care, where she knew Trevor Montgomery’s white and sterile hospital bed held him hostage.

  Beth stood outside the closed door with her hands clenched at her sides. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to find; the man was in a coma and there wasn’t anything to be done other than wait. The door swung open to reveal—of all people—her best friend, Ellen, who’d taken those rounds that day. She remained jotting something on her clipboard with the door open, which allowed Beth a small peek into the room.

  “Oh, Beth! Hey,” Ellen said as the door closed behind her. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Beth crossed and uncrossed her arms. “How’s he doing?”

  “No change, I’m afraid,” Ellen said. “Kerry’s in there fast asleep. I wanted to grab her a pillow and a blanket to keep her warm.”

  “Won’t you let me do it?” Beth asked softly. “Me and the Montgomerys go way back.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Beth.” Ellen started to walk away as she added, “But you shouldn’t be working on your lunch break. You know better. I don’t want you to run yourself ragged again.”

  Beth found the spare pillows and blankets in the nearby breakroom, which doctors and nurses occasionally used to take naps in the middle of overly-long shifts. When she returned to the hospital room, she gently pushed the door open as quietly as she could and stepped within to find Trevor Montgomery: all seventy-some years of him. His head was wrapped up in fresh and bright white bandages, as was his left arm and his left leg. One of his fingers on his right hand seemed to be broken as well and had been taped to stay totally flat. His lips looked chapped, as though they’d only just stopped bleeding.

  The sight nearly took Beth’s breath away.

  On the other side of the bed was his loving wife, Kerry Montgomery. According to Andrew, the pair had been high school sweethearts, as was traditional on this island. In their mid-twenties, they had gone on to have the first of their five children. The rest, as they said, was history.

  The blanket fluttered over Kerry’s legs, which she had stretched out on a spare chair in front of her. She slept beautifully, like a lady, so unlike the way Beth had slept the few times Will had had to stay overnight in the hospital. Each time she had woken up, she’d found spittle all across her makeshift pillow.

  Beth left the pillow next to Kerry for her to find. She wasn’t sure how to prop it under her without waking her.

  That moment, the door cracked open. She hadn’t expected Ellen back so soon. She whirled around to discover, not Ellen, but Wes Sheridan, Kerry’s brother, along with Susan Sheridan, Wes’s eldest daughter. Beth had heard recently about Susan’s cancer diagnosis; at this stage, most of her hair had grown back. The shortness of it actually highlighted the beauty of her cheekbones, the stunning light of her eyes, the youthfulness of her skin. Everyone in the world had always been envious of the Sheridan sisters. Although Beth had been quite a bit younger than even their youngest, Lola, even she had felt the adoration the entire island had. When they’d returned home, it felt like an earthquake had shaken their little island.

  Wes and Susan’s eyes turned from the sleeping Kerry up toward Beth, the nurse. There was no reason on the planet that they should have recognized her, which meant the “Beth! Hello!” that Susan whispered surprised Beth a great deal.

  “Hello!” she hissed back with a smile.

  “Thanks for taking such good care of my uncle,” Susan said as she stepped forward and squeezed her shoulder in a tender way. “We’ve been so worried about him, but knowing he’s in your trustworthy hands is such a Godsend.”

  “Actually, I’m not his on-duty nurse,” Beth explained. “My friend is. I just came in to give your Aunt Kerry a pillow and blanket. I know how hard on the body these long days and nights can be when you don’t have a bed of your own.”

  “The old girl won’t leave his side,” Wes said. He dropped in the free chair beside his sister’s head and stared down at his shoes.

  There was something about his manner, something lost about his eyes.

  Had Beth missed something? Did old Wes Sheridan have a condition that hadn’t been announced?

  “Even still, the fact that you’re watching out for them is so kind,” Susan said. “Needless to say, none of us has gotten much sleep since it happened. My sisters begged to come along to say hello, but there really isn’t a need for them in this room. Not till he wakes up, at least.”

  If he wakes up.

  That moment, Kerry Montgomery’s eyes opened softly, like a flower opening shyly at the beginning of spring. She blinked, looking confused as her eyes focused on Beth. “Nurse?” she said as she shifted up and dropped her feet to the ground. “Nurse, I wondered, is he getting enough fluids?”

  “This isn’t his nurse, Aunt Kerry,” Susan said. “This is Beth Leopold. You must remember her.”

  Kerry blinked several more times before she dropped her chin to her chest. Guilt seemed to permeate across her face. Beth wanted to reach out, grab her hand, and tell her all of it, the pain they had all experienced, wasn’t really anyone’s fault. It was just what life was.

  “Beth. It’s good to see you,” Kerry whispered. She looked at her like Beth was a ghost. “Goodness, I suppose I forgot you worked here.”

  Beth swallowed the lump in her throat as she said, “There’s a pillow here beside you, just in case you need it later.”

  “Seems to me, Trevor and I have some visitors,” Kerry said. The color began to return to her face. She gave Wes a smile and grabbed his hand. “Good thing
, too. I’ll have to send you guys to the vending machine.”

  Wes chuckled as Susan rolled her eyes playfully. “The woman hasn’t eaten anything but healthy home-cooked food for fifty years. What does she think vending machines are stocked with? Kale salads?”

  Beth laughed in spite of it all, her fingers touching her lips as she smiled. Susan walked over to sit by her Aunt Kerry. Slowly, their conversation folded into itself, like dough stretched over a pie, already hidden away, no longer inclusive of Beth. Beth said her goodbye to them and they said their thanks. Softly, she slipped back out the door, walked toward the breakroom where she knew it would be quiet, and soon found herself in a heap in the corner with tears rolling toward her chin. So much had happened in the last year, but just because so much already had, didn’t mean that any of them was safe from heartache.

  Chapter Eight

  Since Charlotte had said, “You’ve missed so much,” to Andrew on the ferry boat, they hadn’t managed many words to one another. They stood out on the dock, with Charlotte’s suitcase in front of them and Andrew’s military duffle bag flung over his shoulder. Snow fluttered around them, just as beautiful as any Christmas card, as Andrew acknowledged the world he’d once given up on. There it was: the magnificent Oak Bluffs— now transformed for Christmas. There was holly lining the streets, each tree decorated with bulbs and lights, and that old, familiar, terribly historical carousel twinkling in the distance. It looked like a picture out of a Christmas card. It was so magical.

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte interjected suddenly.

  Andrew arched his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I didn’t mean to say that you’ve missed so much. I’m sure you’ve been through so much of your own chaos. I never want to make you feel guilty.”

  Andrew nodded somberly. He wanted to say a million things, like, I’ve thought about you, Kelli, Claire and Steven every single day since I left. I’ve missed you terribly. When I first read about your daughter, Rachel, I nearly wept.

  But some things were better off not said, maybe. Or maybe he just wasn’t the sort of guy capable of saying them.

  He was like his father in that way, which to him felt like he had been tainted.

  Before Andrew had the chance to answer, there was a loud honk of a horn. He searched the sea of vehicles to find a little blue car with one Claire Montgomery standing out of the driver’s seat and waving a long arm to alert them. Her smile was electric.

  “That’s our Claire,” Charlotte said with a laugh. “She always likes to lighten the mood, however, she can. However, you should have seen her while we put that wedding together. I would catch her crying in every corner. I wasn’t sure any of us would make it out of that alive.”

  “But you did,” Andrew said as they headed toward the car. He tried his hardest not to limp at all, which was a struggle with every step. Probably, Charlotte had noticed and had decided not to mention it. That was always her way.

  “We did. We’ll have to tell you more about it when there’s time,” Charlotte said. “I’m still reeling from all the emotion of it. It was like a marathon, but we had to sprint the whole thing.”

  At the car, Claire whipped around and barreled her athletic body into Andrew’s in only the kind of hug an older sister could give a younger brother. She screeched and gripped him as hard as she could. Andrew was surprised to feel his heart grow just the slightest bit warmer.

  “Look at you,” Claire breathed as she fell back. “You look—”

  “Like an old man?” Andrew interjected.

  “Not in the least,” Claire said. “I was going to say, like a young and scruffy Brad Pitt.”

  Andrew rolled his eyes, even as the sides of his mouth ticked upward into a smile.

  “Look at him. There’s that smile I remember so well,” Claire teased. “Charlotte, you see it, don’t you?”

  Charlotte’s eyes were a tad cloudy. She’d felt the sadness that fell from Andrew.

  “He’s our little brother alright, through and through,” Charlotte said.

  Charlotte then turned around to wave into the backseat of the car, where two identical teenage girls sat. They peered curiously at their Uncle Andrew with faces that reminded Andrew so much of both Charlotte and Claire when they’d been teenagers.

  Claire rapped at the window and called, “Girls! Come out here and meet your Uncle Andy.”

  Andrew stood like a statue as the girls barreled out of the car and stood side-by-side to blink up at him.

  “Andy, these are my girls, Gail and Abby,” Claire announced. “They turned fifteen this past July. And girls, this is your Uncle Andy, who you’ve heard so much about over the years.”

  “Hello, Uncle Andy,” one of them said.

  “Hey,” the other said.

  Andrew had no idea which one was which.

  The one on the left gasped, yanked open the car door, then reappeared with a bouquet of marigolds. She pressed them into Andrew’s hands and said, “We made this for you.”

  Andrew’s heart fell into his stomach. The smell of the flowers overwhelmed him. Through his years as a bachelor, he hadn’t so much as purchased a single candle.

  “Thank you, Gail and Abby,” he said softly. “It’s wonderful to meet you.” He made eye contact with each of them. He wanted them to know how much it meant.

  “The girls are wonderful with flowers,” Claire affirmed. “Seems to me they’re even better than I was when I started the flower shop. You remember that Andy, right? When I made you help me set up all those cabinets and the front counter...”

  “How could I forget?” Andrew said with his first real smile. “You hardly had two pennies to rub together.”

  “Things are a little bit different now,” Claire said.

  Silence fell over them as the snow picked up. Andrew shivered slightly as Gail and Abby exchanged glances. Finally, Claire insisted that they all pile in the car so they could drop off their stuff and head up to the hospital.

  Everything about the drive felt sinister to Andrew. It all seemed the same but different: the same houses with different people living in them; the same restaurants with different names. On the way to the house he’d grown up in, they stopped briefly at Charlotte’s, where apparently, their cousin, Christine and her boyfriend, Zach, had stayed while Charlotte had run off to California. She dropped off her suitcase and spoke with Christine on the front porch. Christine waved a hand to the car, and Gail, Abby, and Claire all waved back. Andrew couldn’t do it. He hadn’t seen Christine since he’d been something like ten or eleven years old. She was basically a stranger to him now.

  When Charlotte got back into the passenger seat, she said, “Christine reports that Rachel was on her best behavior while I was away. I think she missed you, girls, at school today, though.”

  “We’ve all just been so sick to our stomachs about Grandpa, haven’t we? I couldn’t make them go to school,” Claire explained.

  A few moments later, one of the twins said, “How was California, Aunt Charlotte?”

  “And Everett! How was he?” the other asked.

  Charlotte turned toward the back, where Andrew sat on the left, with the two girls beside him. “It was a dream come true,” she said. “Everett showed me all his favorite spots in LA, and we went to the beach three times.”

  “He’s so handsome,” one of the twins said.

  “Gail!” the other one said.

  The one in the middle is Abby; the one on this end is Gail. Got it. Maybe.

  Charlotte laughed good-naturedly. “He’s a keeper for sure. I think he might try to come out here for Christmas. He fell in love with the island.”

  “He loved a little more than the island,” Claire teased.

  Did Jason leave her? Did they get divorced? Where is Jason?

  Andrew couldn’t breathe when he first spotted his house for the first time: that three-story old-world beauty that was built in 1880 and restored when his parents had latched onto more money than they had k
nown what to do with. It had always been blue, a glorious dark-sky-blue and the shutters were dark grey. If Andrew hadn’t been fully aware of the pain in his right leg and his heart, he might have felt he’d just stepped back in time.

  “Here we are,” Claire said. She glanced into the rearview to catch Andrew’s eye as she said, “Nothing much different about it, huh, Andy?”

  Andrew shook his head. “Not at all.”

  Andrew escaped the tightness of the backseat a bit too quickly and landed hard on his bad leg. He winced just as Claire got out of the car and caught him. Her eyes scanned down to his leg, but she didn’t say a thing.

  “Let’s get you inside. You must be exhausted and starving,” she said.

  Older sister, younger brother alert.

  His mother had updated the interior quite a bit since 2003. There was a new couch in the living area, a new-to-them antique table in the dining room, and updated photographs of the grandchildren scattered around the house. An old photograph of Kerry and her brother, Wes, hung in the kitchen, and an old photograph of the Sheridan clan before Aunt Anna had died sat on the piano. Andrew’s heart hammered in his throat as he dropped his duffel bag to his side and ogled it all. The nostalgia was so overwhelming that he had to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

  “Have any idea where I’m supposed to stay?” he asked Claire.

  “I don’t think they’ve done much to your bedroom,” she said without making eye contact. “You can make yourself comfortable there if you like.”

  Andrew’s eyes traveled up the length of the staircase as he made his way to his room.

  It was like entering a tomb.

  Andrew stood in a somber reflection in the old bedroom, the one he’d taken over after Steven had left the house and married Laura. His Blink-182 poster still hung over his bed; a photo of him and Kurt near the baseball diamonds still sat on his dresser; his bed was made up in fresh sheets and a comforter, as though his mother had expected him to return home any time.

  His leg gave out on him and he collapsed on the edge of the bed. He massaged the area just beneath his knee and tried to cut out the ringing in his ears.