Silhouette Christmas Stories Page 28

  A man answered Mrs. Goldrich's door and introduced himself as her son, Howard. Through the open door Karen could hear voices and laughter and Christmas music being played on the radio. It made her feel glad to know that Mrs. Goldrich would be happy on Christmas Eve, at least. And somewhat relieved. She'd been feeling guilty about not inviting her landlady to join them, since she was going to invite Mr. Clausen.

  But no one was home at Mr. Clausen's. After the second knock, Andrew shrugged and said, "I told you."

  "Well," Karen said, "we'll just leave them here, in case he comes back." She ran downstairs and wrote a little note, telling him that he was welcome to join them if he got home in time, then tucked it under the plastic wrapping on the plate of cookies and left everything on the floor in front of his door.

  By six o'clock the apartment smelled wonderfully of evergreen and chowder and corn muffins and cranberry tarts, the tree looked festive, dressed in red and white painted sycamore balls and wrapping paper ribbons, the three strings of lights twinkling in the window for all the world to see. The presents were all wrapped and under the tree-except for Andrew's, which were still mysteriously locked away in his room.

  Bright with multiple coats of fresh paint, the train waited patiently on its track for the power to send it chugging triumphantly 'round and 'round the Christmas tree…

  "Well," Karen said, taking a deep breath and a last look around, "I think we're ready." Good heavens, were there butterflies in her stomach?

  "' 'Twas the night before Christmas,'" Andrew quoted, grinning at her as she tried in vain to flatten his cowlick. " 'And all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.'"

  Not even a mouse! Karen's heart gave a guilty little bump. Then she laughed out loud and caught her son in a breathless hug. Of course, she thought, it's the night before Christmas! The whole world has butterflies tonight. Wasn't that the magic of Christmas Eve? The suspense, the anticipation, the waiting… the feeling that something wondrous was about to happen.

  Tony had butterflies in his stomach when he knocked on Karen's door. The electric train's switch-box was under his arm. He felt like he was seventeen again, standing on Alison Delovitch's front porch with a florist's corsage box under his arm and cold sweat running down his armpits-his junior year, the prom, his first formal date. He'd thought he might die of nervousness that night, but it hadn't been anything compared to this.

  He knew how much Karen was counting on his getting that train working in time for Christmas. He'd already taken the engine apart and cleaned and oiled everything, and straightened all the sections of track and checked all the connections. Yesterday he'd taken the box home to work on it where he could concentrate without the distraction of her presence, and he was pretty sure he'd done everything that could be done with it. But until he had a chance to hook it up, he wouldn't know how successful he'd been, and the suspense was just about killing him. He didn't want to disappoint her. He didn't think he could stand it if he let her down.

  The door opened, and she was standing there, looking as pretty as he figured it was possible for a woman to look, and suddenly there didn't seem to be enough room inside him for air. So he let it out in a rush and said, "Hi. Merry Christmas."

  She smiled and said, "Hi. Come in." She was wearing a long skirt with red in it, and a silky white blouse. There were soft lights shining in her eyes and in her hair. "Let me take your coat."

  "Here you go, kid." He handed the switchbox to Andrew. Funny, he thought as he struggled awkwardly out of his coat, in the last week he'd probably spent more of his waking time in this house than he had in his own, and now he felt like a stranger. It was Christmas; that was it. There were too many expectations at Christmastime. Everything was supposed to work out right, nobody was supposed to be disappointed…

  "Hey, cool," Andrew said. "Did you get it fixed? Can we hook it up and see if it runs?"

  Karen threw him a beseeching look. Tony growled, "Nope, not yet. Not until Christmas Day."

  Andrew looked a little let down, but he didn't argue. Karen clasped her hands in front of her like an old-fashioned school teacher and said, "Well, dinner's ready. Is anyone hungry?"

  They ate in the kitchen, with the lights out and candles on the table, which was something Tony couldn't remember ever having done before. Everything tasted great, he supposed, although he probably wouldn't have noticed if it had been sawdust and wallpaper paste. Afterward, Karen made him a cup of instant coffee, and she and Andrew took their mugs of hot apple cider, and they all went back to the living room to open presents.

  They didn't seem to know quite where to start, so Tony got the big box he'd brought for Karen from, under the tree and gave it to her. He had another box for her, a much smaller one, in his pocket. He meant to give it to her later, in private, if things worked out the way he hoped they would. He would just have to wait and see…

  "Oh," Karen said, "it's beautiful!" It was an angel, made of stiffened fabric and lace. She looked up and found Tony smiling at her.

  "My sister made it," he said, clearing his throat with an endearingly awkward little cough. "It goes on top of the tree."

  "Well," she said softly, "let's put it up right now."

  Instead of going outside in the cold to get the ladder, Tony lifted Andrew onto his shoulders and held him steady while he took the crumpled star down and put the angel in its place. Then they all stood back to admire it. The angel seemed to smile down on them, her arms spread wide in blessing and protection. It seemed so symbolic, Karen thought as she laid the star in the nest of tissue in the angel's box, put the lid on it and set it aside. She wouldn't throw the star away any more than she would throw away her memories of Bob. She would pack it away along with the other precious things from her past-things like Andrew's baby clothes and her first prom dress. Things she'd outgrown and left behind her long ago…

  Andrew was opening his presents with his usual precision and nail-biting suspense, professing delight with everything, especially the mittens. "Hey, cool- now I can make really good snowballs!"

  "Uh-oh," Tony said, "I'm in trouble now."

  Tony's gift to Andrew was a big, glossy book about trains. "Oh, cool!" Andrew said when he saw it and was instantly engrossed.

  "Ours is in here," Tony said, reaching over his shoulder to turn pages. "Look-right there. Isn't that it?"

  "Hey, yeah," Andrew said excitedly. "Look, Mom, we can copy this picture when we do the writing!"

  Karen agreed, hiding a smile. Our train? She wondered if Tony knew how much he'd given away with that tiny little slip of the tongue. Tenderness swelled her chest and tightened her throat as she took his present from under the tree and placed it on his lap. She sat down beside him to watch him open it, holding her hands clasped tightly together, vibrating inside with tension.

  "It's a humidor," she explained as he lifted the mahogany box out of the tissue paper wrappings. "It belonged to my grandfather. My grandmother gave it to me when I was a little girl, to keep my doll clothes in. I know you don't smoke cigars, but you can keep other things in it, like-"

  "It's beautiful," Tony said in a muffled voice, stroking the glossy wood with his fingertips.

  "Open it," Karen whispered.

  He did, and there were the cookies, wrapped and padded with plastic-green sugar Christmas trees and holly wreaths, blue sugar stars and angels, chocolate-sprinkled bells and reindeer, cinnamon imperial candy canes and funny smiling Santas.

  "I told you," she said, husky and breathless with tension. "The prettiest Christmas cookies in the world."

  Tony just looked at her. She could see the soft Christmas lights reflected in his eyes, along with all the things that were in her own heart that she couldn't say. The warmth in his eyes drew her; their silence enfolded them both like a web…

  "My turn!" Andrew said, and they jumped a little, guiltily, hearts bumping.

  He went running off to his room and was back in a moment, hiding something behind his back and co
mmanding, "Close your eyes… okay, now you can open them."

  Karen did. A small, wondering "Oh… " escaped her as Andrew placed his gift in her hands.

  "I made it," he said, self-conscious and proud. "Mr. Clausen showed me how. But I could only make one, so it's for both of you."

  It was Santa's sleigh and nine reindeer, on a base of rough pine bark covered with cotton snow. The sleigh was made from a matchbox, with pipe-cleaner runners, and was filled to overflowing with old-fashioned hard Christmas candy. The reindeer were made of clothespins, with pipe-cleaner antlers. The lead reindeer had a tiny red nose.

  "Oh, Andrew," Karen said tearfully, "it's the best present I ever got."

  "Hey," Tony said, "where's Santa?"

  Andrew laughed and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, and he and Tony grinned at each other as if they shared a secret.

  After that, there was the cleaning up to do, and then it was time for Andrew to go to bed. Once again he went without protest, but he came back in his pajamas to lay his Christmas stocking at the foot of the tree, right beside the train.

  Tony wished him a gruff "Merry Christmas, kid." Karen went off to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight. When she came back, Tony was on his knees beside the train track, the electrical plug in one hand.

  "Well," he said, looking up at her, "shall we see if it works?"

  She knelt down beside him, trying to quell the nervousness inside her. "I guess we'd better…"

  Tony put the plug in the socket and turned on the switch. The engine made a churring sound and lurched forward an inch or two. Karen's breath caught; she put her hand over her mouth to hold back a cry of joy.

  And then the engine stopped.

  Tony swore softly, tinkered with the connections, the track, the engine, and tried again. Again the engine churred, moved a little way along the track and then stopped. While Karen waited in agonized suspense, heart thumping, he tried it again and again. And finally sat back on his heels, shaking his head.

  "I guess that's it," he said, his voice husky and muffled. "I've done everything I know how to do. It's just… not going to work." His head was bowed, his broad shoulders slumped with dejection and defeat.

  Seeing him like that, her own disappointment, and Andrew's, seemed unimportant. Oh, but his pain… his pain was more than she could bear. It filled her up and overflowed. She touched his shoulder and said brokenly, "Oh, Tony."

  He turned in a rush and caught her in his arms. They held on tightly to each other, both whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

  "I'm sorry." Karen felt the tremors deep inside him as he spoke. "I know how much you wanted-"

  "Shh," she said fiercely, "it's all right."

  "I'll get it running, if it takes all night. I'll start from scratch. I must have missed a connection somewhere."

  "Hush." She took his face between her hands and looked into his eyes. "It's all right. Andrew will understand. You didn't make any promises. He knows you tried." He gripped her wrists and looked away, but she pulled him back. "Oh, Tony," she whispered, while tears ran unchecked down her cheeks, "it doesn't matter. Don't you know that? It doesn't matter. I know it's happened quickly, but I don't care. I love you…"

  For a long moment he looked at her, his eyes so dark and intent he seemed angry. Then he closed them and pulled her into his arms. "You love me?" he said wonderingly. She nodded. After a moment she felt him take a deep breath. "I have something for you. I was afraid to give it to you. I figured you weren't ready for it yet. I know it's too soon, but… " He let go of her and leaned back so he could reach into his pocket.

  "What's this?" Karen said with a watery sniff as he placed the small velvet box into her hands and opened it for her.

  "Just what it looks like." His voice was gruff, more so than she'd ever heard it.

  "Oh, Tony… " She touched the shining stone with a wondering finger and began to cry again.

  "If it's too soon, just say so. I'll wait until you're ready."

  "It's not-oh, Tony, I know I love you, but… I'm scared. I'm afraid."

  "What?" he said gently, brushing the tears from her cheek. "What are you afraid of?"

  "I'm afraid-" she took a deep breath "-of losing you."

  "Hey," he said with a shrug and a lopsided smile, "I'm not going anywhere."

  "But you don't know that! You can't tell me nothing's ever going to happen to you! Don't make promises you can't keep!"

  Now it was Tony who held her face in his hands, refusing to let her go. He felt the tension in her as she fought him, fought herself, her own fears and feelings. "I can't promise you I'm never going to die," he said slowly, roughly, the words hurting inside him. "But I can promise you that I'm going to love you, and Andy, too, until the day I die. That's all I can do. That's all any of us can do, isn't it? Love each other as much as we can, for as long as we have?"

  For a long time she looked at him, her blue eyes shimmering with love and tears. "Yes," she whispered at last, "I guess it is."

  This time, when he kissed her, she didn't fight it. He felt the leap of joy inside her, and then the melting surrender… and finally the growing and merging… the oneness that he knew would last a lifetime.

  When he carried her to bed, neither of them thought of Andrew, or the train, or Christmas. But later, deep in the night, Karen stirred and whispered against his shoulder, "What was that?"

  "Hmm," Tony murmured, "what was what?"

  "Didn't you hear that? I heard… bells."

  He chuckled. "Not me. I was too busy feeling the earth move."

  Her arms tightened around him, and for a minute or two they didn't say anything more. But presently she murmured, "I'm sure I heard something. Don't laugh, but it sounded just like sleigh bells."

  "Well," Tony said, laughing, "it is Christmas." And then, seriously, "Do you think it could be Andy? Maybe I'd better go."

  "No!" Her arms tightened again. "Please, stay a little longer. Just a little longer… "

  "As long as you want me to," he said, and kissed her again.

  "What's that?"

  "Oh no," Tony groaned, "not again."

  "No-listen," Karen insisted. "There it goes again. It sounds like-but it can't be!"

  "It is," Tony said, sitting up in Karen's bed and dragging a hand through his hair. They looked at each other and said it together, joyously, incredulously. "The train!"

  "It can't be," Karen was muttering as she scrambled out of bed and began opening dresser drawers.

  "It's morning, Christmas morning. I don't believe this." Tony was pulling on his clothes, looking for his shoes. "I didn't mean to stay. God, Karen, I'm sorry. What's he going to think? Is that really the train?"

  It was. They stumbled out of the bedroom, tousled but fully dressed, to find Andrew kneeling in front of the Christmas tree with his stocking across his lap. The train was chugging merrily around the Christmas tree, around Andrew, its whistle shrill and joyful in the coolness of the morning.

  "Look!" Andrew said when he saw them. "It works, just like you said it would. I knew you could do it, Tony- I knew it!" He looked about as happy as it was possible for a kid to look and still stay anchored to the ground. Reserved, Tony thought, his heart just about full to bursting with his own emotions. Just like his mother.

  "Merry Christmas," Karen whispered, slipping her hand into Tony's. "I guess… miracles do happen sometimes, don't they?"

  All Tony could do was shake his head.

  Andrew glanced at them, at their clasped hands, and asked in his direct, matter-of-fact way, "Are you going to get married?"

  Tony opened his mouth and closed it again. Karen burst out laughing. "Yeah," Tony said gruffly, "I guess we are. Is that okay with you?"

  Andrew shrugged. "Sure." He was suddenly very busy with the train, so his voice was muffled when he asked, "So… are you going to be my dad?"

  The little boy's head was bowed; his neck looked slender and vulnerable. Tony put his hand on it and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Yeah," h
e said, "I am."

  "Cool," said Andrew. He suddenly gave the locomotive a push and turned in a rush. Tony caught him in a quick, hard hug. Over the boy's head he sought Karen's eyes and found them resting on him, shimmering with love, reflecting the soft Christmas lights.

  Epilogue

  "Guess what," Andrew said as he sat down to breakfast on the day after Christmas. "Mr. Clausen's gone."

  "Gone?" Karen picked up the box of Crispy Oats, looked at the new mouse-nibble on the corner, sighed and set it down. "Has he gone somewhere for the holidays? Do you know when he's coming back?"

  Andrew shook his head. "I think he's moved away."

  "Strange," Karen murmured. "How do you know? Did Mrs. Goldrich tell you?"

  Again Andrew shook his head; his mouth was full of cereal. "Nope. This morning I went to see him. I knocked, and the door opened. So I peeked in."

  "Andrew!"

  "Well, he was gone, anyway. All his stuff's gone, too." He shrugged. "I'm pretty sure he's moved away."

  Karen gave him a long, searching look, thinking it odd that he didn't seem upset, or even very surprised. She was sure Andrew had been genuinely fond of the old man.

  "Maybe I ought to go and see," she said, worried now. All sorts of possibilities presented themselves. Mr. Clausen was old-what if he'd had a heart attack, or a fall? What if he were lying helpless and ill-or worse? "I'll go check," she said decisively. "Just to be sure. You stay here."

  Andrew just looked at her over the tops of his glasses. "I told you-he's gone."

  Andrew was right; the tiny garret apartment was cold and empty. From where Karen stood in the middle of it, she could look out the dormer window at the backyard, where patches of snow still clung to the shady places under the sycamores and along the north sides of fences. No longer lovely, pristine white, it now seemed gray and lifeless-abandoned, like the apartment.

  "I wonder why," she said aloud, rubbing at the goose bumps on her arms. "Why would he leave like that, without a word to anybody?"