Trading Christmas: When Christmas Comes / The Forgetful Bride. Debbie Macomber
her. In a flood of emotion, Emily spilled out everything Heather had told her.
“She’s got a boyfriend,” Faith announced as if it were a foregone conclusion.
“Well, she has mentioned a boy named Ben a few times, but the relationship doesn’t sound serious.”
“Don’t you believe it!”
Faith tended to be something of a cynic, especially when it came to relationships. Emily didn’t blame her; Faith had married her college boyfriend and stayed in the marriage for five miserable years. She’d moved to Leavenworth shortly after her divorce. Her connection with Emily had been forged during a time of loneliness, and they’d each found solace in their friendship.
“I’m sure Heather would tell me if this had to do with a man in her life,” Emily said fretfully, “but she didn’t say one word. It’s school and work and all the pressures. I understand, or at least I’m trying to, but I feel so…so cheated.”
“Those are just excuses. Trust me, there’s a man involved.”
Not wanting to accept it but unwilling to argue the point, Emily sighed deeply. “Boyfriend or not,” she muttered, “I’ll be alone over the holidays. How can I possibly celebrate Christmas by myself?”
Faith laughed—which Emily didn’t consider very sympathetic. “All you have to do is look out your front window.”
That was true enough. Leavenworth was about as close to Santa’s village as any place could get. The entire town entered the Christmas spirit. Tourists from all over the country visited the small community, originally founded by immigrants from Germany, and marveled at its festive atmosphere. Every year there were train rides and Christmas-tree-lighting ceremonies, three in all, plus winter sports and sleigh rides and Christmas parades and more.
Emily’s home was sixty years old and one block from the heart of downtown. The city park was across the street. Starting in early December, groups of carolers strolled through the neighborhood dressed in old-fashioned regalia. With the horse-drawn sleigh, and groups of men and women in greatcoats and long dresses gathered under streetlamps, the town looked like a Currier & Ives print.
“Everyone else can be in the holiday spirit, but I won’t—not without Heather,” Emily said. “I’m not even going to put up a tree.”
“You don’t mean that,” Faith told her bracingly.
“I do so,” Emily insisted. She couldn’t imagine anything that would salvage Christmas for her.
“What you need is a shot of holiday cheer. Watch Miracle on 34th Street or—”
“It won’t help,” Emily cried. “Nothing will.”
“Emily, this doesn’t sound like you. Besides,” Faith said, “Heather’s twenty-one. She’s creating her own life, and that’s completely appropriate. So she can’t make it this year—you’ll have next Christmas with her.”
Emily didn’t respond. She couldn’t think of anything to say.
“You need your own life, too,” Faith added. “I’ve been after you for years to join the church singles group.”
“I’ll join when you do,” Emily returned.
“Might I remind you that I no longer live in Leavenworth?”
“Fine, join one in Oakland.”
“That’s not the point, Em,” her friend said. “You’ve been so wrapped up in Heather that you don’t have enough going on in your life.”
“You know that’s not true!” Emily could see that talking to Faith wasn’t having the desired effect. “I called because I need sympathy,” Emily said, her tone a bit petulant even to her own ears.
Faith laughed softly. “I’ve failed you, then.”
“Yes.” Emily figured she might as well tell the truth. “Of all people, I thought you’d understand.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Em.”
Her friend didn’t sound sorry.
“I actually think being apart over the holidays might be good for you—and for Heather.”
Emily was aghast that Faith would suggest such a thing. “How can you say that?”
“Heather might appreciate you more and you might just discover that there are other possibilities at Christmas than spending it with your daughter.”
Emily knew she’d adjust much more easily if she wasn’t a widow. Being alone at this time of year was hard, had been hard ever since Peter’s death. Perhaps Faith was right. Perhaps she’d clung to her daughter emotionally, but Emily felt that in her circumstances, it was forgivable.
“I’ll be fine,” she managed, but she didn’t believe it for a moment.
“I know you will,” Faith said.
Even more distressed than before, Emily finished the conversation and hung up the phone. Never having had children, Faith didn’t understand how devastating Heather’s news had been. And if Emily was guilty of relying on her daughter too much, Christmas was hardly the time of year to deal with it. But wait a minute. She’d encouraged Heather’s independence, hadn’t she? After all, the girl was attending school clear across the country. Surely a few days at Christmas wasn’t too much to ask.
Emily decided a walk would help her sort through these complicated emotions. She put on her heavy wool coat, laced up her boots and wrapped her hand-knitted red scarf around her neck. She’d knitted an identical scarf for her daughter, although Heather’s was purple instead of red, and mailed it off before Thanksgiving. Finally she thrust her hands into warm mittens. It’d snowed overnight and the wind was cold enough to cut to the bone.
The Kennedy kids—ranging from six years old to thirteen—had their sleds out and were racing down the hill in the park. In order of age and size, they scrambled up the steep incline, dragging their sleds behind them. When they reached the top, they all waved excitedly at Emily. Sarah, the youngest, ran over to join her.
“Hello, Mrs. Springer.” Sarah smiled up at her with two bottom teeth missing.
“Sarah,” Emily said, feigning shock. “Did you lose those two teeth?”
The girl nodded proudly. “My mom pulled them out and I didn’t even cry.”
“Did the tooth fairy visit?”
“Yes,” Sarah told her. “James said there wasn’t any such thing, but I put my teeth under my pillow and in the morning there was fifty cents. Mom said if I wanted to believe in the tooth fairy, I could. So I believed and I got two quarters.”
“Good for you.”
With all the wisdom of her six years, Sarah nodded. “You’ve got to believe.”
“Right,” Emily agreed.
“In Santa, too!”
As the youngest, Sarah had four older brothers and a sister all too eager to inform her that Santa Claus and his helpers bore a strong resemblance to Mom and Dad.
“Do you believe, Mrs. Springer?”
Right now that was a difficult question. Emily was no longer sure. She wanted to believe in the power of love and family, but her daughter’s phone call had forced her to question that. At least a little…
“Do you?” Sarah repeated, staring intently up at Emily.
“Ah…” Then it hit her. She suddenly saw what should’ve been obvious from the moment she answered the phone that afternoon. “Yes, Sarah,” she said, bending down to hug her former kindergarten student.
It was as simple as talking to a child. Sarah understood; sometimes