by Regina Duke
“Why, your memory is outstanding, young lady. I shortened it to Trevor.” Trevah. “Much easier when signing checks.”
Hannah giggled. In her normal voice, she asked, “Do you have roots in the south?”
“I have distant relatives all over,” said Trevor. “The first Gatlin came over on a ship before the Revolutionary War.”
“I’ve got you beat,” said Hannah. “My grandfather was half Cherokee.”
“Fascinating,” said Trevor. “Does that mean we get to dance?”
“I love your non sequiturs,” said Hannah. “Maybe we could just assume the position, and sort of sway back and forth. I’m not sure my inner Hannah is ready for rock-and-roll.”
“Neither is my inner Trevor,” he murmured, pulling her close.
When they browsed the array of party food, they decided they were French for a while. That went beautifully until one of Eva’s guests actually spoke to them in French.
Red-faced, Hannah confessed. “I don’t really remember much of my French.”
Trevor, however, answered the woman with an elegant fluency that Hannah found quite marvelous. She watched as the two of them conversed for a bit. She wasn’t sure what Trevor was saying about her, but the other woman looked…jealous?…as she walked away.
Hannah leaned close. “What did you say to her?”
“I told her I’m a vampire and I never drink…wine.” Now he sounded like Bella Lugosi.
One of Eva’s other friends, three sheets to the wind, came up to hug Hannah and ogle Trevor. “Oh Hannah, darling, I hope your cloud of grief is starting to lift.” She was not subtle about eyeing Trevor. “It must be a big weight off your shoulders to know he left you all that money.”
Eva arrived too late. She turned her friend around and shoved her gently toward the open bar. Then she whispered to Hannah, “Everything’s fine. Trevor isn’t a gold digger.”
The episode momentarily dashed cold water on Hannah’s sputtering Christmas spirit. On the other hand, Eva knew what she’d been going through. She decided to trust her friend. Eva was kooky, but she would never do anything to hurt Hannah. At least, not intentionally. She tried to relax and let Trevor refill her punch glass.
The hours flew by. Before she knew it, the clock struck midnight. She stared down at her feet. “My slippers! My glass slippers! They’ve disappeared.”
Trevor had grown very comfortable with his arm around her shoulders. “It must be time to go back to reality.” He sounded disappointed.
Hannah turned to face him and stood on tiptoes. “Will the carriage last long enough to take me home?”
Trevor hugged her close. “Definitely.”
Hannah was quiet as Trevor drove. She had done her duty as a friend. She went to Eva’s party. Now she could go home and…what? Just sit all alone in the dark? Before the party, she’d expected to have popcorn for dinner, an old movie on cable. Just like every other night. But now that she’d met Trevor, she realized she didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want their conversation to end.
She turned to tell him that, and the Christmas lights caught her attention. “Were these lights up on our way to the party?”
Trevor craned his neck to see the colorful decorations that were strung at intervals across the street. Snow was still falling softly, and the flakes glinted with reds and blues and greens. “They must have been,” he said at last. “I was so busy trying to look at you, I didn’t even notice.”
Hannah was flattered. “Look, I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but would you like to come inside for hot chocolate?”
“That sounds delicious.”
It took both of them to navigate the snow that had accumulated on the front stairs. It was so quiet, they could hear their breath flow in and out, and when the porch light hit them just right, they could see the moisture in their breath turning to ice.
“Don’t fall,” they said in unison. Then they laughed, and of course they fell, but it was more like a long slide to the bottom of the stairs.
Trevor helped Hannah stand upright. She let him hold her for a few seconds. Snowflakes hitting her face interrupted the moment. “Let’s try again. We should be able to make it up twelve stairs.”
“Fourteen,” said Trevor. “Counting the landings.”
“Well, if you’re going to be like that, fifteen, if we count the step up into the entryway.”
“Actually,” he panted, “we just slid down eight, so by the time we arrive, it will be twenty-three.”
Hannah giggled. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m trying to breathe and hang onto the rail.”
“We should have worn gloves. My hands are freezing.”
“Check your pockets. Grandpa always kept gloves in his pockets.”
Trevor stopped on the landing and pulled gloves out of his pockets. “My dad used to do that, too.” He slipped a hand into one glove. “Here. You take the other. Your fingers are turning blue.”
Hannah accepted, and they continued up the stairs, placing their feet carefully and alternating their handholds on the snow-covered railing. She said, just a half-second too late, “Look out for that patch of ice we fell on before.”
And down they went. At least they were laughing. Trevor was plopped against the solid wall of snow that lined the steep driveway, and Hannah tried to crawl off him but found herself unable to get traction. Her plan was to gain some footing and stand up, but the ice and snow had other ideas. “Catch me! I’m sliding!”
Trevor reached out and grabbed her ankle to stop her slide. Panting heavily, he said, “I can’t believe your grandfather went up and down these stairs in the winter.”
As Hannah righted herself with Trevor’s help, she said, gasping for air, “He didn’t. He went in through the garage.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, they both burst out laughing. She hung on to Trevor as they found fresh snow to crunch through and made their way to the automatic door opener, where she punched in the code. The garage door groaned, but it lifted, and a warm yellow light came on inside.
“Nice car,” said Trevor. Then he took a second look, and his jaw dropped. “This is a Rolls!”
Hannah winced as if caught in a lie. “It was my grandfather’s. It’s the smallest one they make, honest.”
As the garage door closed behind them, Trevor said, “No wonder you don’t want to drive in the snow. A fender bender would break your heart.”
Hannah led the way to the back of the garage. She opened a door, and another light came on in the stairwell. “These stairs come out next to the kitchen,” she said. “And they are dry, dry, dry.”
“Excellent.”
When they emerged upstairs, Hannah thought she saw a light move. Or maybe a shadow. “Oh, it’s you, Arturo.” The big Siamese leapt up onto the kitchen counter. “He loves hot chocolate. Well…warm chocolate, at least.”
Trevor took in the kitchen and the living room like he hadn’t seen them before. And maybe he hadn’t. He’d been too busy looking at Hannah. There were no drapes on the sliding glass doors, and the balcony was completely hidden under the snow. He perched on a bar stool at the butcher block counter in the middle of the kitchen. “No tree?”
Hannah looked around. The only light shone in from the open door to the stairwell. She pushed a button over the stove, and the cook light came on. She felt the need to apologize for the bleakness of the place. “Sorry. I usually watch TV for a while and then sack out on the sofa. The bedrooms are downstairs, and you can’t see out the windows in the winter.”
“No need to apologize,” said Trevor softly. “I didn’t have the heart for a tree this year, either.”
“I’m surprised you’re here and not with your mother.” Hannah pulled mugs out of the cupboard almost by feel.
“I’m the oldest sibling,” said Trevor. “She took the rest of the family on a ski vacation. Trying to start a new tradition. You know.”
Hannah nodded. “Without your dad.”
“Right.”<
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“But you’re here, visiting your…second cousin?”
Trevor’s lip curled in a smile. “Eva and I found each other on one of those DNA sites. We think…we’re not sure, mind you…that her great-grandmother was my great aunt. Or something like that. We hit it off and didn’t really care.”
“Oh.” It was a hollow syllable, empty and disappointed.
A moment later, Trevor seemed to follow her thoughts. “No, not like that. We really are related. We just don’t know how close. Besides, if cousins marry cousins, it’s going to happen on my mother’s side of the family.”
Hannah was relieved and puzzled at the same time. “So you’re not dating Eva?”
“Correct.”
“But your mother’s family might have cousins who married each other?”
Trevor tried to make light of things. “Hey, we can’t pick our family, just our friends. Our very close friends.” He could finally see well enough to spot a teapot, which he filled with water. “I assume we’re sitting in the dark for some reason other than non-payment of power bills.”
Hannah finally slipped out of her jacket and held out a hand to take his. Her grandfather’s. “It just feels cozier this way.” She put the coats away and returned.
Out of the blue, Trevor asked, “Do you believe in life after death?”
With only a moment’s hesitation, Hannah said, “Yes.”
Trevor put his arms around her. “Are you hoping for some sign from your grandfather?”
Hannah let herself fall into his hug. “Shall I plead the Fifth?”
“Will admitting it do you some harm or injury?”
“Not if you agree with me.”
She could feel his smile through the hug. “I totally agree. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least to find my dad and your grandfather sharing a whiskey on the couch and congratulating each other on getting us together.”
“Are we? Together?”
“I’m here. You’re here. We have a ton of stuff in common.”
“Except the marrying cousins thing.”
“Except for that.” Trevor cupped her face in his hands and planted a soft kiss on her lips.
Hannah was suddenly flustered. Should she? Shouldn’t she? Did she want to? Oh yes. Did she feel the time was right? Oh no.
Once again, Trevor read her mood as if she were an open book. “Don’t worry. That was a solidarity kiss. We both know it’s too soon.”
The teakettle whistled, and Arturo meowed loudly. Hannah lifted the kettle off the stove. “Arturo thinks it’s another male cat, challenging his territory.” She tore open two packets of instant hot chocolate and emptied them into the mugs.
Trevor said, “Maybe I’d better not pet him right away. Let him get used to me.”
“I meant the teakettle,” she said.
“I know.” He took the kettle and poured water into the mugs.
“Can we just talk? Like, forever?”
“At least that long,” said Trevor.
A faint green light glowed in the living room.
“I thought you didn’t have a tree.”
“I don’t.” Hannah hated to ruin the mood, but the green light went out, then glowed again a moment later, and she was forced to flick a light on in the entryway.
“Traffic light?”
“You just drove up my street twice. No stoplights. Even the stop sign is optional in this weather.” She led the way into the living room. There was her sofa where she liked to fall asleep in front of the TV. It was off, so no light there.
Off.
On.
“Oh, I left the night light plugged in.”
“Good place for a tree.”
“That’s where Grandpa always plugged his lights in. I just couldn’t do it without him.”
Off.
On.
Trevor went to check the bulb. “Here’s the culprit. The bulb is loose. We probably jarred it a bit when we fell down the front steps.”
“The first time or the second?” Hannah watched him tighten the bulb, commenting, “That’s odd. I could have sworn I put an orange light in it. Not green.”
“It’s green, and it’s shiny, and it slopes upward toward a point. Let’s call it a tree.”
Hannah laughed softly and was startled when her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them surreptitiously.
“Maybe we should sing to it,” said Trevor. He sang very softly, “O Christmas Tree.”
Hannah felt silly, but she joined in. At the end of the song, she reached out and touched the greenish glow on the wall.
“What was your grandfather’s favorite tree ornament?”
She smiled. “He had a collection of dreamcatchers, and at Christmas, he would put them all over the tree.” She caressed the green glow. “He told me they originated with the Ojibwe, but he loved them, and my bedroom was full of them.”
“Where are they now?”
Hannah answered without hesitation, “In my bedroom. Downstairs.”
“Don’t you have one upstairs where you’re sleeping?”
“Yes, of course.” She was a little slow on the uptake, but after a few seconds, she tilted her head and said, “I can bring some up and decorate our green glow tree.”
Hannah took him with her. Truth be told, she disliked being downstairs in the winter. Even with the heat on, it was chilly down there, and when she was little, she sometimes thought she saw ugly faces in the snow pressed against her window. Hence, the dreamcatcher collection.
No ugly faces against the window tonight. When she flipped the light switch, it turned on the little lamp on her bed stand. She heard Trevor’s inhale and turned to see his face light up as he tried to take in the sight. Dreamcatchers of all sizes and colors hung from the ceiling. They covered the whole room.
“How many are there?” he whispered.
“About a hundred. Do you feel it?”
To his credit, Trevor took a few seconds before he replied. “I feel…safe…and comforted.”
Hannah hid her smile.
“Which ones do you want to use for your tree?” asked Trevor.
“Hmm. We would always decorate with the small ones.” She pulled the chair out from under the student desk she’d used all the way through high school and stepped onto the seat. One by one, she collected small dreamcatchers, from two inches to six inches across. They were hung by string to tacks in the ceiling. Trevor didn’t need a chair. He began selecting small ones as well.
“I find it ironic that such magical little pieces of art are hung up with matter-of-fact string and tacks.” He was hanging three to a finger on his left hand.
“This should be enough,” said Hannah. Then she responded to his comment. “They protect children against bad dreams. If you put them in a case or an artistic frame, they can’t catch the bad dreams in their webs. They have to hang free.”
“Will they mind being hung on the wall?”
Hannah shrugged. “I think they’ll survive.”
When they returned to the living room, the little green light was still casting its glow on the wall. In reverent silence, Hannah began pinning the dreamcatchers to the wall, letting them hang on their strings. Trevor followed suit. After half an hour, they had a dreamcatcher Christmas tree.
Hannah approved. “I think they’re happy. They’ll be in the room with me while I’m sleeping.”
Trevor pulled her close. “I keep learning things about you that I really like.”
“Such as?”
“The way you infuse everything around you with life. From Steely Dan to your dreamcatchers. As if they all had souls.”
“Maybe they do.”
They stood there together for several minutes.
At last, Trevor said, “I guess I should go. It’s three a.m.”
Hannah nodded reluctantly. “Eva is expecting you?”
“Gee, I hope she’s asleep by now. If I call, I’ll wake her up.”
They moved together into the entryway. “I’
ll get you Grandpa’s jacket.”
Trevor pulled the door open, and the heavy silence outside muted the noisy lights and electronics inside. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere in this,” he said. “I can’t even see my SUV.”
“Wow, what a snowfall. I don’t think it’s going to look any better from the garage door.” She pushed the front door closed.
“Let’s find a Christmas movie on TV,” he said.
“Okay. I’ll make popcorn.”
“You don’t have to go to any trouble. Just being with you is enough.”
Hannah blushed. “Thank you. But I was planning to have popcorn for dinner, so it’s no big deal.”
Trevor laughed.
They caught the last half of an old version of “Christmas Carol.” And fueled with popcorn and cocoa, neither wanted to waste time sleeping. They talked all night. Hannah figured they must have nodded off at exactly the same time because when she awoke, they were still sitting up on the sofa, and the blanket they had shared was still in place. The TV was still on. Cartoon reindeer were competing in reindeer games.
Hannah got up carefully. They were both still fully clothed, but she turned the heat up a couple of degrees. Then she went into the kitchen and made coffee.
When she returned to the living room, Trevor was up and standing by the glass doors to the balcony. Snow had piled up on the balcony about chest high. Hannah handed him one of the mugs of coffee. “Good morning.”
When he smiled at her, she melted inside and decided it was already warm enough without turning up the heat. “Eva will tease us without mercy.”
“I know.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Don’t answer any of her questions. Let her think whatever she wants.”
Hannah laughed softly.
Trevor tilted his head toward the balcony. “Do you think we’re totally snowed in?”
Hannah shook her head. “No. The balcony always fills with snow. We have to look out front to see how much we got.”
As one, they moved to the front door.
“Don’t let the cat out,” said Trevor.
Hannah snorted. “Arturo wouldn’t go out in the snow if a mouse did a strip tease on the top step.” She opened the door. The sight took her breath away.
