He shut the door, and June was suddenly flooded with a mix of emotions she could barely even identify. But there was no time to sort any of them out. She had to get home. Cynthia had invited a special friend over.
It was time to meet the boy. And very important to have the right snacks to offer him when he arrived.
June was arranging cinnamon sticks in cups of hot apple cider when the doorbell rang. She wiped her hands on her apron, then took it off, hung it up, and went to answer the door. When she got there, she found that Henry had already answered it, dressed in short shorts, long socks, running shoes, and his favorite Mickey Mouse sweatshirt.
Henry could never sit still—in spring, he built an elaborate garden and wandered plant nurseries and flea markets; in summer, he played baseball; in fall he bowled and played golf; in winter he trained for the local Polar Bear Run.
“Henry, it’s thirty-five degrees out!” June said. “You can’t run in that. You’ll freeze to death.” She knew very well she was wasting her breath—she told him the same thing every year.
“Running warms the blood,” he told her, just like he did every year. “I’ll be just fine.”
It was probably true, seeing as he had yet to actually freeze to death. Still, pointing out the possibility was the responsible thing to do.
“This year will be my best time yet. I can feel it. You’re gonna be so proud, Bee.”
“I certainly am! But let’s not keep our important guest waiting.”
Henry grinned at her and opened the door. June’s heart sped up just a little bit.
The boy stood on the other side. He had a round face, red cheeks, and big, dark-brown puppy-dog eyes, which stared up at her with a mixture of hope and apprehension, and he clutched a long satchel to his shoulder. He was probably only one or two years younger than Mitch, but he looked like a baby compared to him. June smiled at him and said hello, and he gave her a hesitant smile in return.
A bearded, dark-eyed man she assumed was Adam’s father stood next to Adam, with one hand protectively on his shoulder. “Say hello,” he said, nudging Adam a little.
“Hello …”
“Miss June,” June said. “And this is Mr. Henry.”
“Okay. Hello Miss June and Mr. Henry. Nice to meet you.”
Adam’s father smiled at June. “I’m Frank,” he said, holding his hand out for her to shake. Then he extended his hand to Henry. “I thought, rather than just dropping him off, I’d introduce myself, so you can see that I’m good people.”
“What a coincidence!” said Henry, smiling. “We’re also good people.” Frank laughed. Henry motioned at him to enter, “Come in out of the cold!”
Frank glanced backward toward his car, and then he and Adam stepped into the house. June shut the door.
“I can’t stay long,” Frank said. “I have some work to catch up on. New job, new town. Gotta prove myself, you know?”
Henry nodded. “I do know. I started my own cleaning company a few years ago. There was a lot of pressure to earn people’s trust. So, what do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer. I work with a firm downtown.”
“Excellent,” said Henry. “Excellent.”
Frank looked Henry up and down. “Are you a runner?”
“I am! Currently training for the Polar Bear Run in January.”
“Interesting. What is that, a 10K?”
“Half-marathon. You run?”
“Yeah, a little. Finished my first half-marathon last year.”
Henry’s eyes glinted. “What was your time?”
“One-fifty-three.”
Henry put his hands on his hips. “That’s a good time.”
June knew for a fact that it was better than Henry’s best time.
“You should sign up!” said Henry eagerly.
“I don’t know,” said Frank. “I don’t have a lot of extra time on my hands.”
“I understand. If you change your mind, let me know!” I’d love to have a running buddy.
“I will! I really do have to go, now, so . . . yeah.” Frank turned to Adam. “Behave yourself, okay?”
“Sure, Dad.”
Frank turned back to June and Henry, glancing at each of them before lowering his eyes and putting a hand on Adam’s head. He took in a deep breath. “You know, Adam was having a really hard time adjusting to . . . our new life. The other kids weren’t always . . . well, you know how kids can be. But Cynthia was different. So friendly and nice. She took him right under her wing. She’s a great kid. Thanks for having him over. And thanks for letting them go to the dance together.”
June’s heart swelled, and she swallowed hard. “You’re welcome,” she said.
Frank nodded at them, then turned around and walked off.
“Dad! You’re wearing that!” Cynthia’s voice was mortified as she ran down the stairs. “How could you do this to me?”
“How about you say hello to your friend?” June asked, with an arched eyebrow.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Hi, Adam.”
Adam’s face lit up at her greeting. “Hi,” he said.
“Well, I’m off,” said Henry. Nice meeting you, Adam. Are you staying for dinner?”
Adam glanced at Cynthia. “Well, Cynthia invited me to, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” said June.
“Well, then, I’ll see you later.”
“Okay.”
Henry gently squeezed June’s arm and smiled at her. “He’s a nice boy.”
June smiled back at him. “Have a good run.”
“Oh, you betcha. I have a new goal to reach!”
He walked out the door, and June turned to Adam and Cynthia. “I made you guys some hot cider and some snickerdoodles.”
“Wait until you try my mom’s cookies, Adam. They’re so awesome.”
“Cool. So, hey, you told me you liked baseball.”
Cynthia frowned in confusion. “I did?”
Adam’s face colored. “Didn’t you?”
“Oh . . . I said it was cool that you liked baseball. Because my dad plays. With other dads, I mean. I always go to his games. At the park.”
“My dad’s a huge baseball fan,” said Adam. “He doesn’t play. But I want to try out for the team next year. I brought my ball and my bat. I thought maybe we could play a little, but if you don’t want to it’s fine.”
Cynthia tilted her head and looked at him for a minute. Then she shrugged. “Sure! Sounds fun.”
Nine
June
June sipped her coffee as she watched Adam and Cynthia through the front window. Adam tossed Cynthia the ball again and again, and she swung at it fruitlessly again and again, laughing harder every time she missed. Adam never became frustrated; he just encouraged her to keep trying.
“Okay, last time,” he said, finally. He tossed her a low, easy ball. She swung at it fiercely, and for once, the bat connected with the ball. Unfortunately, the ball glanced off the top of the bat and sailed backward, straight toward Mr. Krantz’s house.
June set her coffee on the window sill and ran out the front door, in time to see the ball roll directly to Mr. Krantz’s feet as he walked to his mailbox. He picked it up, examined it, tossed it lightly in the air, and caught it again. Then he walked back toward his house with it. Adam watched him with an ashen, dumbstruck face.
He glanced at Cynthia, then walked slowly toward Mr. Krantz. But when Mr. Krantz glared at him, he seemed to lose his nerve.
June marched across the grass, shouting at Mr. Krantz to stop. He turned and faced her.
“Give the boy back his ball,” she said, her hands on her hips.
Mr. Krantz sneered at her. “It’s in my yard, on my lawn. It’s my ball, now.”
“They’re just kids. And it’s just a lawn, not a priceless museum painting.”
“It could have hit my window!”
“But it didn’t.”
“But it could have.”
“What about our talk about being neighborly?”
“Those were your words, lady. Not mine.”
He walked back into his house without even looking backward.
June turned back to Adam, who was near tears. She walked over to him and patted his shoulder. “We’ll get it back, one way or another.” He nodded woefully, and she wondered why an old baseball was so important to him.
Adam said little for the rest of his visit, in spite of Cynthia’s relentless attempts to cheer him up. When Henry came home, June told him what had happened, and he went straight to Mr. Krantz to try to reason with him, to no avail.
When Adam’s father rang the bell after dinner, Adam’s face crumpled, and he dragged himself to the door as though his feet were made of lead.
“Hey, kiddo, how did it go?” Frank asked, before catching sight of his expression. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Dad, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what? Why? What happened?”
“I lost your ball.”
“My baseball? It’s just a ball. I have more of them.”
“No, Dad. Your ball. The ball.”
The color drained from Frank’s face, and he swallowed hard. “You took my ball without asking? How could you do that? What were you thinking?”
“I guess I wasn’t.”
Frank looked up at Henry and June. “The ball was signed by Keith Hernandez when his team won the World Series three years ago,” he explained. “It was . . . a Christmas present from my wife. She died the next year.”
Henry gasped, and June’s heart sank to her shoes.
Frank turned back to his son. “Why would you bring that ball here?”
“I thought Cynthia would think it was cool.”
“I did,” said Cynthia, tears streaming down her face. “I did think it was super-cool.”
“So, what do you mean you lost it?” asked Frank. “How did that happen?”
“The man next door took it,” said Adam, pointing toward Mr. Krantz’s house. “He won’t give it back.”
“It was my fault, Mr. Frank,” said Cynthia. “I hit it into his yard by mistake.”
Frank looked at her, but it was clear he barely heard her. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He walked out the door, and Adam shrank farther into himself. Henry put an arm around his shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright,” he told him. “You’ll see.”
Frank came back in a few minutes, his face dejected. “No luck convincing him,” he said, his eyes dark with anger and defeat. “And it’s not like I was going to fight him for it. Come here, Adam.” Adam walked over to his father like he was facing the guillotine. Frank bent down to his level and grabbed him by the shoulders. “That ball was important to me, and you shouldn’t have taken it.” Adam nodded. “But it’s just a ball. Just a thing. And I don’t love any thing more than I love you. You know that, right?”
Adam nodded, and Frank clasped him in a hug.
“I still want you to have it back,” said Adam, his voice muffled against his father’s jacket.
“He had no right to keep that ball,” said June, her chest tight with anger. “I say we call Sheriff Bryant and report it as a theft. It has to be worth a lot of money. I know that’s not what matters to you. But it might matter to him.”
Frank stood up. “I don’t want to involve the police,” he said. “Not until we exhaust every other possibility.”
“Well,” said June, “There’s one thing we could try.”
“What?” asked Frank.
“We could talk to Miss Simmons.”
Frank’s face colored a little. “Anna Simmons?” he said. “The English teacher? Long, shiny reddish-brown hair?”
June tilted her head and looked at him curiously. “Yes, that’s the one.”
“Why would we talk to her? I mean, not that I don’t want to. Well, not that I do want to . . .” He ran his hand nervously through his hair. “So, why, exactly?”
“She’s his niece.”
“Is she, really?” Frank’s jaw dropped in astonishment.
“I have it on two very reliable second-hand accounts that she is.” said June. “Okay, more like third-hand accounts, but still. She’s very nice, and very reasonable. And he seems to care about her a lot. She may have some influence.”
Frank nodded. “I like this idea.”
“Do you?” said June, smiling. Frank’s face colored again. “I’ll set up a meeting. I’ll invite her here.”
“Just tell me when. I’ll be here.”
For the first time in a long time, June felt hopeful that something would finally go right this Christmas season. Maybe two things, if Frank was lucky.
Ten
Ellie
“Come with us, June. We will be back in plenty of time for your meeting with Miss Simmons, I promise. It’s not like it’s a frivolous waste of time. Cynthia needs a dress for the dance, right?”
“Right.”
“You were planning to buy one, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the girls and I need Christmas dresses, too. So, see? It’s an errand.”
“Hmmm. What about Jase?”
They both turned to look at him. He was twirling around in the yard, his face turned up to the gray sky.
“Mitch is here,” said Ellie. “You know, the most responsible teen on the planet.” She turned and called out to Jase. “You’ll be fine here with your brother, right?”
Jase looked at her and shrugged. “Yeah.”
“See?” Ellie sighed. “Frankly, June, you need a break.”
June didn’t even deny it, which bolstered Ellie’s confidence a little.
“So, we’re going to the mall,” she continued. “And we’re going to have fun while we’re there.”
It was a Tuesday—the last day before Christmas break, and a half-day of school. The winter dance was on Friday. June’s party was six days away, and Christmas was eight days away. It was a perfect afternoon for a fun, girls-only shopping trip. Ellie had invited Cynthia to come along, and she’d happily accepted.
Ellie was concerned about the circles under June’s eyes, and her harried appearance. She knew Sparky the Snowman was keeping her friend awake every night, and June’s determination to keep twelve hundred plates spinning at once was running her ragged. She wasn’t sure what she should do about it, so she did the only thing she knew how to do.
She flashed June a bright smile and made her get in the car.
Once June was securely buckled in, Ellie relaxed. She looked in the backseat, where Meredith, Melody, and Cynthia all sat squished in together.
“You guys are just adorable,” she said. “Wait, wait. I want to remember this.” She fished around in her hobo bag for her Polaroid camera. Then she snapped a picture of them and waited until it whirred out of the bottom of the machine. She handed it to Meredith.
“Wave it around. Yep, just like that.”
“I know how to do it, Mom, you’ve taken a thousand of these.”
Ellie grinned and started the car. “Who’s ready for Abba?”
“Mom, we always listen to Abba, every time we go anywhere!” said Melody. “Can’t we listen to something cool, like Cindy Lauper?”
Ellie didn’t answer. Instead she slipped the tape into Bunny’s cassette player and rewound it to the beginning.
“Off we go!”
About a minute later, she and Meredith were singing “Dancing Queen” at the top of their lungs, like they always did. Melody joined in after a minute, like she always did, and even Cynthia began singing along.
When the song was over, Melody shouted, “Play Christmas music!” The other girls agreed, and Ellie switched off the cassette player and turned on the radio. After that, it was sleigh bells, reindeer, and silent nights until they got to the mall.
“Oh, I love the mall at Christmas!” said Ellie. “It’s all so beautiful.” There were so many colorful lights and festive red and green d
ecorations that she didn’t know what to look at first. Everything glowed or twinkled—everything was alive, and warm and hopeful. People smiled at each other. They were patient, gracious, kind.
Silver Bells played somewhere above them as they glided up the escalator, which was strung with garland and colored bulbs, and decorated with giant plastic candy canes.
“See, June? This is what you need. A little Christmas magic. Don’t you feel it? Don’t you remember what it was like to look in store windows at Christmastime?”
June didn’t answer, but she did take a deep breath and look around with a faint smile, which broadened when “Hark the Herald” came over the speakers. “I love that song,” she said. “My mother used to sing it all the time.”
They all wandered around each floor of the mall slowly, taking in everything—the giant Christmas tree, with cotton tufts all around it, topped with glitter to make them look like snow; the kids riding the little mall train in Santa hats; Santa on his plush, gilded, oversized throne, sitting patiently as child after child yanked his beard, screamed in terror, or told him they wanted things they’d never get, like a pterodactyl or their very own elf.
They ate giant pretzels and drank giant drinks from Orange Julius. They dodged department store perfume sprayers, laid on the display beds, tried out sofas they had no plans to buy, and tried on dresses they could never afford.
The girls tried on lipstick samples, sunglasses, and hats, and took turns crowding the mirrored pillars. Every so often, Ellie snapped a picture.
To Ellie’s surprise, June didn’t rush them, or remind them that they were only there to buy dresses. She even seemed to enjoy herself. Ellie was relieved.
The three girls eventually wandered away into a teenage clothing store, and Ellie and June wandered into a store that had Christmas decorations for sixty percent off.
“Oh, look, tinsel!” said June. “We could always use more tinsel.”
“I didn’t figure you for someone who liked tinsel,” said Ellie. “It’s so messy. I always assumed it was Henry’s thing.”
Merrily Yours : An 80s Christmas Novella Page 5
