Mick is glad to be back home in Maine after having had a lovely family Christmas while his mother and Dan are looking forward to celebrating New Year's Eve with a bunch of friends and the girls are missing their big brother terribly, even if he's only been gone for a few days. Alice is thinking about her son once again as she is getting ready for the party.
(In case anyone wonders why alcohol is served at a 1930 New Year's Eve celebration: Missouri was very late to introduce Prohibition - according to Wikipedia, as late as 1934. I have to say that writing fan fiction can be pretty educational!)
Alice climbed out of the bathtub and towelled herself dry. She had been cold all day long and had allowed herself the luxury of a hot bath before she would get ready for the New Year's Eve party she and Dan were going to attend tonight. Alfred and Sandra Cooper had invited them to join their traditional celebration again. Alice didn't really feel like going out in the snow and cold, but the Coopers were longtime friends, and wasn't it often that you ended up enjoying those events most that you hadn't really wanted to attend in the first place?
She slipped on her dressing gown and walked over into the bedroom. The girls were bickering with each other in their room down the corridor. Alice heaved a sigh. Since their brother was gone, both Jess and Janie were unbearable – Jess constantly defiant, Janie permanently tearful.
Mick had left the Monday after Christmas. Alice's heart had been heavy when she saw him board the train. She knew her son would never come back for more than a few precious days. He had chosen his way of living, and she had very slowly come to accept that it was a much simpler way than she'd had in mind for him.
She had to admit that his choice seemed to suit him very well. There was a new quality to him, something grown-up, a calm contentment with his life, a freshly found self-confidence. She wouldn't say she was proud of the profession he had opted for – the missed chance at an academic career still did rankle with her sometimes – but she was glad that, finally, her eldest appeared to be truly happy with his life.
She had been surprised that he had grown even taller, marvelled at the golden-bronze shimmer his smooth skin had even at this time of year, wondered when exactly the boy had turned into a man. For that was what he was now, a broad-shouldered young man, lean but muscular, strong arms straining the fabric of his shirts, good-looking in a rather unconventional way. Those piercing green eyes that seemed to change colour all the time, a clean-cut face with pronounced high cheekbones and a mouth any woman who was not his mother couldn't call anything but sensual.
Her mother had made some implications of a tender summer romance with Ruth Wilson's little niece a while ago, and Alice was delighted that this was still going on. She smiled at the thought of her handsome son walking hand in hand with a pretty girl and wondered idly how long this might last. You never knew with teenage love, but hadn't she married her first sweetheart herself and never regretted her choice?
Mick had not talked much about his girlfriend, but the few times he mentioned her, a dreamy, tender expression had softened his features, and once or twice a bashful little blush had coloured his cheeks when she or Dan had asked a question about Eliza. She was enchanted to see that the sweet magic of first love had finally touched upon her son and hoped the girl wouldn't disappoint him. He was not one to give his heart away easily, and she wanted his trust in that girl to be rewarded.
Alice picked up the carved lighthouse from her dressing table, gently drew a caressing finger over its surface. Mick had instinctively selected the perfect motif for his carving. She wasn't sure if Mick was aware of the fact, but the path around the lighthouse had always been her and Henry's favourite route for a walk. And it had been there that he had asked her to marry him.
A small, sad smile crossed her face. Would she ever stop grieving for him?
She knew she would not. And wouldn't it feel wrong to stop missing the love of your life? The stab of pain she kept experiencing when she thought of Henry, wasn't it the one and only link with him she still had?
Except for their son, of course.
She set the small lighthouse back on the top of the dressing table, next to one of the wedding photos that sat there. It depicted a very young bride, hardly more than a girl, tiny and a little shy in her dress and veil, while the bridegroom looked proudly and freely into the camera's lens, dashingly beautiful in his dark suit.
There was another wedding photo. In this, the girl had become a woman, a mother, in a simple calf-length dress and matching little hat, a small bouquet of white roses in her hand. The man in the dark suit next to her the opposite of her first husband – much shorter, a little on the heavy side, fair-haired and fair-skinned, friendly eyes behind oval glasses that gave him a somewhat owlish appearance. She remembered how Mick had refused to be photographed with her and his new stepfather on that day.
There was a third photo on her dresser, a large framed head shot of Mick as a seven-year-old, unsmiling, lips slightly open as if he was about to speak, facing the camera candidly, much like his father in the wedding photo.
For a long time, she had been disappointed that Mick didn't seem to have inherited much of his father's traits except the striking resemblance of face and hair, colouring and build. Suddenly she found that she was now able to see the soft side of Henry in her son. Why hadn't she realized that earlier?
Inside Henry's good-naturedly boisterous shell, beneath the mischief and laughter, the flirting and joking, there had been a very sensitive and highly vulnerable layer he hardly ever let anyone see.
Certainly, Mick was much more pensive by nature than his dad had been and far less sociable, but the natural way he cared for his little sisters was very much the way his father had cared for him. Henry's loud mouth and biting, frequently sarcastic wit had given way to gentle affection, even sentimentality, more often than not when he was alone with his family.
The little carvings were thoughtful gifts of the kind Henry had also been good at finding. She was still surprised at how good Mick was at his craft – that was one thing he probably got from her own father – but what astonished her much more was how well the girls' little animals matched their personalities. The graceful, slim seahorse with its large eyes and fine features for tall, thin, quick-witted Jess and the plump, friendly dolphin with his cute smile for rotund, sweet-natured Janie.
Alice treasured all her little memories of Mick and his sisters. He was so good with the girls, telling them stories, playing games with them, building that ridiculously large snowman, teaching them to make snow angels, patiently enduring their chatter, quietly intervening when they started to quarrel with each other. A word from him usually sufficed where she herself often coaxed, scolded and threatened in vain.
She would never forget the sight she had encountered in the early morning of Christmas Day when she went looking for the girls who had disappeared from their beds and found both of them draped over their brother's lanky frame in a tangle of arms and legs and long white nightgowns in a bed that hardly offered enough space for three.
Or the lovely image of Mick on the piano stool shortly afterwards, still in his blue striped pajamas. How he had hurried downstairs with her without even thinking of putting on some proper clothes, almost like the child he used to be. How he had played everyone's favourite carols at home and sung along in church in that voice that was so much like his father's now, a slightly gravelly, but confident and full tenor.
The next scene that came to her mind still made her wince. How fiercely he had taken on Dorothy at the lunch table. She had feared the worst when her hot-headed son clashed with her uptight sister-in-law, but everyone except Dorothy had recovered quickly from the incident. The men seemed to have secretly enjoyed Mick's outburst. And, although she could never possibly tell him so, deep down she had felt a certain pride of Mick, defending his sisters so staunchly.
If Alice was honest, Dorothy had deserved the talking-to both she and Dan hadn't dared give her for the sake of family peace. She had never liked George's humourless wife who always made her feel the contempt for her humble origins that lay immediately underneath the thin layer of prim politeness displayed outwardly.
Dan walked into the room, also clad in a plaid dressing gown, looking harried. "I had to separate the girls", he said. "They were about to gouge each other's eyes out over a silly doll's dress."
Alice rolled her eyes. "Thanks for taking care of that." She kissed him quickly on the cheek and shook her head in irritation about her daughters. "They have been impossible since Mick left, both of them. Not that I blame them … but still all that bickering is beginning to get on my nerves."
"Mine too, but it's no wonder they are so down at the mouth after all the fun they had with their big brother. Speaking of Mick – he has really grown up, hasn't he?"
"Oh, yes", Alice sighed. "It feels strange to see your boy turn into a man. And such a handsome one, too."
"He gets that from his mom", Dan said with a twinkle in his eye. "What are you going to wear tonight, my love?"
"Wait and see", Alice replied, smiling, and went through into the little adjoining dressing room to do her hair and face and get dressed.
When she was finished pinning up her hair – which she still wore long because she had never found the courage to get one of those fashionable short haircuts – and applying some make-up, she took off her dressing gown and studied herself in the mirror for a moment. Three pregnancies had left her a little soft around the middle, but apart from that she was quite satisfied with what she saw – slender, shapely limbs, a graceful neck, breasts neither large nor small but still fairly firm for her age and not too many lines on her face.
She opened the closet, freed the blue silk-satin gown from its protective sheath and enjoyed the caress of its cool smooth surface on her skin as she slid it on.
Dan popped into the room in his socks and shirttails, buttoning his collar and cuffs as he walked. "Have you seen my tie, love?" he asked.
"It's here in the closet, I think", she answered casually, focused on her dress.
Dan had finished buttoning up and stood watching his wife for a moment. "You're looking particularly beautiful tonight, my love", he said with heartfelt admiration. Alice's had never been a flashy kind of attractiveness, but she was one of those women whose beauty increases with age. Now, at thirty-six, she was a mature, radiant woman with not a trace of grey in her glossy brown hair and a fair, creamy complexion. Dan could hardly take his gaze off her in the pale blue dress that matched her eyes perfectly.
Alice stepped into her shoes, briefly thinking how inappropriate they were for the snowy weather, and returned into the bedroom to get out her jewelry case. The silver-sapphire necklace would go well with her dress, the exquisite drop-shaped earrings showed off her long neck nicely when she wore her hair pinned up.
The contents of a third velvet-lined little box would make the set complete. She opened it for the first time in a long while, but she found that she couldn't bring herself to take the ring from its little cushion, the ring that had left a permanent imprint on her son's face.
Hastily, she closed the lid on the small case and decided to wear her classical string of pearls and matching earrings instead.
The moment she had fastened the second earring, Dan came from the dressing room, suited up, black shoes gleaming. He stood beside her in front of her dressing-table mirror for a moment. "A nice couple, those two", he said, pointing at their reflection in the glass.
"Indeed", she said. "Those two are going to have fun tonight." Now that she had finished dressing, she was looking forward to an evening of pleasant entertainment while the girls were safely left in the care of Joanne, the eldest daughter of Alice's best friend Ella Dawson.
There was a timid knock on the door. "Come on in!" Dan called out.
Jess and Janie scuttled in. They had obviously made up after their fierce fight. "Oh, Mommy, Daddy, you look so beautiful!" Jess blurted out.
"Yes, just like a king and queen!" Janie added solemnly.
"Oh, thank you, love", Dan replied with a little curtsy. "Have a nice evening with Joanne, my little princesses. See you tomorrow in the morning!" He stooped to kiss both of the girls on the cheeks. Alice did the same, telling the girls not to fuss when Joanne put them into bed and not to wheedle her into letting them stay up until midnight.
As soon as the babysitter had arrived, Dan and Alice left the house. He offered her his arm to make sure she wouldn't slip on the snow in her evening shoes on the way to the car. It was a cold, clear evening, and she shivered despite the warm coat she wore over her thin dress.
The cold was forgotten the second they entered the Coopers' house. Music and laughter greeted them when Sandra opened the door. It was a fantastic night with good food and dancing and singing, and plenty of drink. Alfred had raided his excellent wine cellar and popped the corks of some very fine bottles of champagne at midnight.
When the party ended at three in the morning, Alice's feet hurt from all the dancing, and Dan had been singing so much, his usual inhibitions mitigated by the wine, that his throat felt sore.
"Best New Year's Eve ever!" he declared as they said goodbye to their hosts.
Alice, already safely ensconced on the passenger seat by then, giggled wildly when he narrowly avoided slipping on a small patch of ice on the sidewalk before he got into the car.
"This is no laughing matter!" Dan said sternly as he got into the driver's seat, then dissolved into laughter himself.
Alice smiled at his exceptionally giddy behaviour and tried to stifle a yawn at the same time, but she didn't quite succeed.
"Fine, then, party's over and my lady's tired. Let's get going." Dan turned on the ignition.
Alice dreamily admired the peaceful surroundings as they drove through the night. A full moon was high up in the sky, making the snow glitter in its cool silver light.
On their way through the woods, she detected a sudden movement from the corner of her eye, and let out a startled cry.
Dan cursed heartily and slammed on the brakes. A futile attempt. The car spun out of control on the icy, slightly sloping ground.
Alice wanted to scream but couldn't utter a sound.
Dan broke into a cold sweat and tried to countersteer, to no avail. The car kept skidding straight on, ploughing through thick snow, and finally smashed into a large elm tree.
The headlights died along with the engine, leaving an eerie silence.
There was no sound at all, no movement, only moonlight glistening off a snowy landscape, marked with fresh deer prints, and the fine spray of tiny glass shards in the hair of a man and woman sitting far too still.