Diana Cosby stood before the frosty window, a hot mug of mulled cider cradled in her hands as she gazed out into the snowy night at the house across the street. It was the first December she could remember that it wasn't decked out with lights and all manner of holiday decorations, and she was certain that the rest of the neighborhood was missing it as much as she was.
Jack and Maggie Westland's house had often been jokingly compared to the Griswald's in the old movie, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. The decorating would begin in mid-November and the lights would go on the day after Thanksgiving. They would then shine every night through New Years with literally hundreds of people driving by to take in the splendor. Many nights the middle-aged couple would dress as Santa and Mrs. Claus and wave from the front porch, often welcoming children who would run to share their lists with them. It didn't seem to matter to them that Jack was decidedly skinny for Santa. Other houses on the street would also put up lights and yard decorations, but no one did it on the same scale as Jack and Maggie.
Then the day after last Christmas Maggie had suffered an aneurysm, dying two days later. Jack had gone into seclusion and was rarely seen for months. His brothers and nephews had taken down the Christmas displays, leaving a pall behind that had seemed to settle over the house ever since. When Jack began to reappear in public, it was impossible to ignore the impact the loss of his wife and best friend had had on him. Gone was the warm twinkle in his eyes, the ready laughter. Where he had been a casual but well groomed man, now he was always rumpled, his prematurely white hair and beard unkempt. He had become politely taciturn in his dealings with people, though he still softened when he encountered children. Everyone agreed that Jack would have made a good father, but he and Maggie had never been able to conceive. However hard the months since her death may have been for him, he still made time for kids.
Diana had grown up in the house she now lived in, left for college, and spent time in the Coast Guard before returning to her hometown to take a job as a social studies teacher in the local high school. Her mother had passed away while she was in college and after her father passed away three years ago she had moved back into her childhood home. Originally she had intended to do some renovations and put the house on the market, but as time passed she had realized she couldn't bring herself to actually contact a realtor. So she now, at thirty, she lived in a spacious three bedroom Craftsman she had lovingly restored to its original state, doing much of the work herself, and was mostly content with her life. The truth was, however, she was lonely. It had been a long time since the demise of her engagement, and though she did go out sometimes with male friends and the occasional blind date arranged, to her exasperation, by well meaning friends, she missed the companionship and closeness she had enjoyed with her ex.
Lights glowed from windows in the front of the house and she caught the occasional shadow as Jack passed by the curtains inside. As a friend, her heart ached for him because she knew he must be suffering with memories of Christmases past, much as she did. Suddenly she found herself in the kitchen pouring the remaining mulled cider into a thermos and pulling on her coat before leaving the house and making her way to the house across the street.
Nights were the worst, Jack thought as he poked the fire in the fireplace. After setting aside the tool, he replaced the screen and stood to his full height of just over six feet. His eyes fell upon the photo that sat upon the oak mantle. It was the last formal portrait taken of them, not long before Christmas last year. Maggie, dressed in a lacy, high-necked scarlet silk blouse, with her artfully tousled hair, lightly highlighted so that the delicate blonde tinting blended becomingly with the natural silver, and wearing the pearl earrings her parents had given to her upon her college graduation, had been radiant with holiday cheer. On the collar of her blouse, just off center, she had worn the tiny, whimsical pin he had given her just a few hours earlier. Santa, resplendent in red and white enamel, carrying a brown sack full of toys with angel's wings made of diamond chips sprouting from his back. He had buried her wearing that very pin two weeks later.
With a sad smile he tenderly touched her image with the tips of his fingers.
“Ah, Mags,” he whispered, and took a deep breath, his head falling backward as he closed his eyes against the ever present grief welling up within him. “Why did you have to go?”
The sound of the doorbell startled him as it played out its Westminster chimes. Wiping his eyes, he left the fireplace and walked into the foyer. Since Maggie's death, visitors were rare and he was never certain whether he welcomed the few who came or not. Most of the time he simply wanted to be alone in his grief but, depending upon the visitor, he had to admit it was nice to occasionally visit with a friend.
Opening the door he was surprised to find Diana from across the street on his doorstep. Wrapped in a serviceable wool pea coat and bearing a large thermos, she smiled warmly up at him.
“Hi, Jack. I made too much mulled cider and thought I'd offer you some, if you're interested.”
Slightly take aback, he stared at her for a moment before a lifetime of good manners kicked in. He surprised himself when he felt the smile of genuine welcome curve his lips and stood back to motion her in.
“Diana, this is a surprise. Come in here out of the cold!”
After knocking the toes of her boots against the bottom of the door frame, she entered the house, removed her gloves, and pulled the beanie from her head, stuffing them into the jacket's roomy pockets.
“Let me take that,” Jack said then helped her out of her coat.
“Thank you,” she replied and smiled up at him as she offered the thermos, “It's still hot, and quite good if I do say so myself.”
Taking the thermos from her, he led her into the living room with a light hand at her back.
“I believe you. Have a seat while I pour us some.”
While he disappeared into the kitchen, Diana settled herself on the comfortable sofa and looked around the room with interest. Her eyes fell on the photo on the mantle and she smiled softly. Maggie had been a good friend to her mother and later to her. A light had gone out of her life, as well as the rest of the neighborhood, when she had passed. She couldn't imagine what it must be like for Jack.
“Here you go,” he returned with two heavy pottery mugs and offered her one.
She accepted the mug with another thanks then relaxed back on the sofa while he settled on the easy chair across from her. The fireplace crackled and spread its cheer beside them, and they spent several minutes sipping from the mugs before Diana spoke.
“Christmas is tough on me,” she admitted quietly, “My parents used to make the holidays so full of joy and celebration.”
Jack was quiet for a moment before nodding in understanding.
“Yes, I know what you mean.”
“I can only imagine how hard they must be for you this year. Dad died three years ago and I've had time to heal. At least in as much as I can heal.” She paused. “But the grief never really goes away.”
“No. I imagine it doesn't.”
Diana was suddenly afraid that her words had offended rather than comforted.
“I'm sorry, Jack.” She said quietly. “I just wanted to let you know that I understand. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose a partner, but I do know what it's like to face the holidays without the loved ones that were such a large part of them in my life.” Again she paused then smiled. “We all looked forward to your decorations each year.”
He stared into his mug and again she had the feeling she had said exactly the wrong thing. But he took a breath and another sip before raising his eyes to hers.
“She was the one behind it all,” he admitted softly, “When we were first married I wasn't one way or the other about the holidays.” He smiled slightly. “But Maggie was all about them and before long she had me hanging lights and playing Santa for the kids. I loved it first because I loved her, but I came to love all the festivities for themselves.” He sighed. “She was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Diana nodded and returned his smile with a soft one of her own.
“Dad used to say the same thing about Mom. He was completely lost without her.”
“I know that feeling.”
There was more silence between them, but it was a comfortable silence as they remembered other times with loved ones. Then he finished his cider.
“You're right about the cider,” he declared, obviously wanting to lighten their mood, “it is good. So good that I'm gong to pour me some more. Would you like a refill?”
Truthfully, with what she'd already drank at home, Diana had had plenty but she accepted his offer and waited while he again disappeared into the kitchen.
“I noticed your decorations,” he told her when he returned and handed her back her mug, now filled with more cider, “You really shouldn't be climbing up on the ladder like you do.”
She shrugged.
“If I don't do it, who will?”
“Surely you have some young man in your life who can.”
She grinned.
“Some young man? You make it sound like you're ancient.”
“I have a few years on you, young lady.”
She laughed outright.
“What? Fifteen at most? That doesn't make you old, Jack!”
“Probably more like twenty, and compared to you I am old.” He smiled into his mug. “So why don't you have some young man in your life?”
Her mile dimmed but didn't diminish completely.
“I did have. We were engaged for two years, until I realized he was content with being engaged and really wasn't all that interested in more.”
“And you were.”
She nodded and took a sip, stalling.
“Yes. I want a partner in life and eventually kids. Turned out he wanted to play with the ladies instead of with our kids.” She shrugged. “So, I ended it.”
“That mustn't have been too easy.”
“It was easier than I thought it would be. I realize now that we were never really suited.” She looked up with a half smile. “Better to find out when I did.”
Jack nodded.
“True. But you can't tell me there haven't been others who showed interest.”
Again she nodded.
“There have been. Just no one that I was interested in in return.”
He drained his mug and set it on the table beside the chair.
“I know that feeling as well.”
She grinned impishly.
“Yeah. I've heard all the widows in town are showing their interest.”
She was amused by the color rising lightly in his cheeks.
“I hadn't noticed.”
She drained her mug as well.
“Yeah. Uh huh.”
He took a deep breath and released it on a sigh.
“Truth is, after I met Maggie no other woman existed for me.”
“I'm sorry.”
“I'm not.” He smiled sadly. “She was everything I hadn't known I was looking for. Then she became my everything.”
“I know.” Diana's voice was quiet, gentle. “We all knew it. That's why we worried about you when she passed.”
“I appreciate that. But there's no reason to worry about me.” His smile broadened, but it was a hollow smile. “I'm doing okay.”
They stared at one another for a long moment before he stood and reached for their mugs.
“I'd offer a refill but the thermos is empty.”
Understanding it was time to go, Diana stood and handed him her mug.
“That's okay.” She winked and smiled. “I can always make more.”
He chuckled genuinely for the first time.
“I'm sure you can.” He disappeared into the kitchen and she heard the water running in the sink. When he returned, it was with the thermos. “Thanks for coming over. I've enjoyed it.”
“So have I.”
She paused while he helped her on with her jacket, then pulled on her beanie and gloves.
“Anytime you want more, just give me a call.”
“I'll do that.”
He walked her to the door. As he opened it, he stared across the street at her house.
“Listen, I'm not comfortable with you climbing around on that ladder.”
She laid a hand on his arm.
“It's okay, Jack. Really.”
“No, it's not.”
He glanced down at her then back across the street.
“Call me when you get a hankering for hanging more lights. I'll do it.”
Diana's eyes widened.
“Oh, no! I can't let you do that.”
“Yes, you can.” He tone brooked no argument. “Promise me you'll call.”
She took a stubborn breath and prepared to do just that. But he forestalled her by holding up his forefinger.
“Promise me.”
She released her breath in a huff.
“Oh, okay. But if you fall off you're on your own.”
“The point is, you won't be if you do.”
She decided to surrender with grace.
“You're a sweet man, Jack.”
“Of course I am. I'm Santa!” His smile dimmed. “Or at least I used to be.”
She touched his arm again then stepped outside. The frigid air was a shock after the warmth of his house.
“Good night, Jack.”
“Good night, Diana. Be careful crossing the street.”
She gave him one last exasperated look.
“You're not that old, Jack.”
He chuckled, but remained in the doorway, watching until she climbed the steps to her porch and disappeared into her house. Then he withdrew and closed the door behind him.
Diana was nothing if not stubborn.
Two days later the weather had cleared and she decided to finish hanging the lights around the upper windows of her house. But rather than using a ladder, she simply climbed out of an upstairs window onto the porch overhang, swept snow off shingles below the windows, reached back inside for the lights and her construction stapler, and proceeded to arrange the lights.
And that was where Jack found her several minutes later, but she didn't know he was there until he reached her yard and stood back far enough to see her yet close enough to catch her if she fell. Damn woman!
“Diana! What the hell do you think you're doing?” His breath caught when she had to grab at the window frame to keep from falling. “Be careful!”
“I am being careful,” she yelled in return before half turning where she could see him without losing her balance. “I was doing just fine until you scared the bejesus out of me!”
“Is your door open?”
“Yes!”
“I'm coming up!”
“Jack! I don't...”
But he had already disappeared up the steps onto the porch. She heard the door slam shut followed by his heavy tread hurrying up the narrow staircase, then he was at the window.
“Get yourself in here before you kill yourself, woman!”
“I have to finish...”
“Get in here so I can finish it.”
Her expression was mutinous and she didn't budge. He took a deep breath, seeking to control his runaway heartbeat. Obviously the caveman approach wasn't working.
“Please?”
After a moment she dropped the string of lights she'd been trying to hang and made her careful way to the window. With great control, Jack stood back and allowed her to climb into the house instead of grabbing her and pulling her in himself.
“There!” she taunted, “Satisfied now?”
“I'll let you know when my nerves settle.” He held out his hand. “Hand me that stapler and tell me how you want them hung.”
Silently she handed the tool over and watched him climb carefully out of the window. Moving so she could watch what he was doing, she bit her lip in fear that he would fall. It hadn't seemed that slick when she was out there.
“Is this how you want it?” he asked, motioning with his free hand.
She nodded.
“Yes.”
In far less time than it would have taken her, he had the lights hung and was climbing back through the window. As soon as he stepped away from it, she slid the heavy frame closed, then turned to face him just as he swiped the side of his hand over his forehead. Her expression softened as they regarded each other.
“Thank you, Jack.”
He nodded then arched a brow at her.
“I thought I said that I'd help you hang the lights.”
“Well, I decided to do it without you.”
“And what would you have done if you'd fallen? I might not have been home for hours.”
“We have other neighbors, Jack.”
“Who might not have heard you either!”
They could go on arguing all afternoon. Or she could admit what she already knew. Sighing, she offered a conciliatory smile and held out her hand.
“You're right. Pax?”
After a moment, he smiled and accepted her hand.
“Pax.”
For a long moment, their hands and eyes held and a new kind of tension grew between them. Finally, she drew a deep breath and stepped away.
“Well, since you finished hanging my lights, and could possibly have saved my life, why don't I fix us a bite to eat. A ham sandwich and coffee, maybe?”
He was about to refuse but found himself agreeing instead and followed along bemusedly as she led the way from the room. Where this woman was concerned he no longer knew what to expect. From her or himself!
As the days passed, Jack found himself spending more and more time at her house, helping with her holiday decorating and occasionally making some repair that she wasn't able to do herself. Which didn't happen often. She was a capable woman who took pleasure in her abilities. But she was also a person who admitted when she needed help. Most of the time anyway,
Then came the day when she declared her decorating was complete.
“I think we've done all we can do here,” she told him, then tilted her head to one side, “Would you like to start on your house?”
Everything in him stilled and Diana's suddenly realized what she said. Stricken by her own insensitivity, she stepped backward.
“Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry.” She shook her head. “Forget I said anything.”
For a long time she was certain that he would storm off, and she wouldn't have blamed him. But then he surprised her with a sad half smile.
“Maybe it's time.”
“Really?”
He looked down and took a breath. When his eyes again met hers, they were filled with sad acceptance.
“Yes. I think it's time I finally let go.” He took another breath. “It's time to move on.”
In the end, his house wasn't the Griswald-esque showplace it had been in the past. But there were electric candles in the windows, a wreath on the door, and a nativity scene on the front lawn. It was in itself a quiet farewell, as well as a herald. Christmas was returning to the Westland home.
Inside the house, a small tree was stood and decorated beside the fireplace. That evening, after Diana had returned to her house across the street, Jack found himself standing beside the tree staring at Maggie's picture on the mantle. He noticed how the lights were reflected softly in the glass and smiled.
“Christmas still looks good on you, Mags.”
He reached out and stroked a finger across the beloved image.
“Life goes on, doesn't it, sweetheart? It's what you would have told me.” He paused and his expression turned wry. “I just didn't expect it to take this direction.”
Turning to the tree, he adjusted the ornament Diana had given him just that evening. An angel, made of clear blown glass with frosted glass wings edged in gold. She'd said that seeing it made her think of Maggie and all that she had been to all their lives. And at that moment, Jack had accepted his feelings were no longer those of a quasi-grandfather or uncle.
“She's a special lady,” he told the woman in the picture, “Every bit as special as you were, but in a different way. You liked her and her family.” He smiled. “Something tells me you like what's happening between us.”
Approaching the mantle, he lifted the frame.
“I love you, Mags. I'll always love you. Thank you for loving me back.”
A wonderful story for the Christmas season. Showing how real people learn how to become fond of one another even when they don't think so at first.
As a single man, I never decorated. But I might have had my hands worked. When I married, my wife was an avid decorator but we didn't do outdoor lights.
I have toured neighborhoods where people go all out with decorations. They are stunning in appearance and I wonder how much time and money goes into making those displays and then the electric bill for all of those lights. Fortunately, LED lighting cuts the cost to 1/10 of what it once was.
