All I want for Christmas - Chapter Four
He had to admit the place felt warmer but he hadn't given in without one hell of a fight. Every reason he could offer as to why he shouldn't light the fire was matched with every additional reason as to why he should.
The room was warm enough ... no it wasn't, it was cold.
They had other heating they could use ... they were using it and it wasn't enough.
They had more blankets than they knew what to do with... yes and they had a fire too if he cared to think about it.
And finally when the other thirteen excuses were all systematically dismissed, he offered the worst and most fatal excuse of all...
He couldn't light the fire because Santa Claus was coming down the chimney tonight and he'd promised the children he'd make sure that Santa would be safe.
"What son?!" she almost choked, unable to believe he'd try to get out of it with something as pathetic as that.
"You heard me Mom," he'd argued with his usual stubborn determination. "I promised Virgil and John I wouldn't light the fire at all on Christmas Eve. I can't go breaking promises I make to the kids ... especially promises I make to them at Christmas."
"Really? Well you broke your promise about buying them another star didn't you?" she'd snapped at him, pointing an angry finger at the Christmas tree. "Too busy to get out of the house today you said ..."
"I was busy Mom." he growled back. "The new contract's important. I told you that."
Then she'd really started to give it to him.
"Your children are every bit as important as that contract," she'd stressed. "And so help me if you can't find the time to go and make them happy with a star to put at the top of their Christmas tree, at least find the time to do something to keep them warm while they're the hell not looking at it."
He'd lowered his voice..
"That's not fair Mom. You know how hard I work to provide for those kids."
She'd lowered hers too.
"Yes Jefferson I do know how hard you work but it's not fair and I'm sorry if it offends you to hear me say it. It's Christmas Eve and it's cold and of all nights of the year when they should be feeling happy and safe and warm, it's tonight. Now I'm asking you one last time to light the fire before I finish in the kitchen with your babies. If you don't, I'll go ahead and light the damn thing for them myself."
That had been the end of the argument... or at least the argument with her. Virgil only needed to take one look at what he was doing to launch into a major panic attack.
"Noooo Daddy!" he pleaded in alarm. "You can't light the fire. Please Sir ...Santa Claus is coming down the chimney tonight and his pants'll catch on fire."
"You tell that to your Grandmother, he replied in a huff, ignoring the frantic pulling on the tail of his shirt. "She's one who wants the damn thing to be lit tonight, not me."
The little boy looked towards the kitchen but in the end thought better of arguing with his grandmother.
"Awwww Daddy..." he complained." Santa Claus won't come to any of us if he knows we got a fire."
He tried to control his growing aggravation but it certainly wasn't easy. Of all the Tracy attributes his second son possessed, determination to get his own way was definitely one of his best.
"Virgil ..." he swallowed trying to keep his temper in check. "He came last year. He'll come this year."
"But Daaaaaddy ... you promised. You promised me and Johnny. "
Jeff Tracy's eyes glanced to where the star was missing at the top of the Christmas Tree.
"Sometimes I have good reasons to break my promises, Virgil."
"Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww"
The little boy began to wring his hands in desperation at the visions of a smouldering Santa Claus.
"Virgil, settle down. I'm telling you Santa Claus won't get burnt. I'll make sure the fire I'm lighting is well and truly out before I go to bed. You can count on it."
"But Daaaaddy."
He counted to ten, looked down at the little boy who was the spitting image of his wife and said slowly, carefully and distinctively.
"Virgil, Grandma wants this lit and she's not going to get off my back until I light it."
With that, the flames ignited leaving Virgil devastated, his mother appeased and … as the evening wore on and he sat staring into the flames with a scotch in his hand... him ...a very long way from Boston...
Houston... Texas ... eleven years before
That guy had a special talent and he could really play the saxophone.
They both enjoyed his music and they often came here for a meal in the evenings and to relax and talk about his day. The manager always gave them special consideration and provided a darkened corner with a back door entrance so he wasn't recognised too freely. He didn't like being asked questions about the impending moon landing and she didn't like their private life exposed.
It was their first Christmas Eve together since she had left England to be with him in America and tonight, they sat together as a couple, hands intertwined, enjoying the music of the saxophone in the most exclusive corner of the restaurant
The meal had been wonderful and the bottle of wine they'd shared had been good. As he looked at her in the candlelight and inhaled the scents and aromas which surrounded him, he told himself he was the luckiest man in the world.
He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt quite so mellow and relaxed.
She had to be the most beautiful woman on this earth and he couldn't have been any more in love with her if he tried. He couldn't take his eyes off Lucille Evans that night. She was his everything... she was his world … and tomorrow when he woke up next to her on Christmas Day he was going to ask her to share that world with him forever… and one day be the mother of their children.
The saxophone played sensually in the background as their eyes met in the candlelight.
"Have yourself … a Merry Little Christmas," he serenaded gazing deep into those eyes. "Let your heart … be light…."
She smiled and leaned forward towards him, the flames of the scented candle between them, illuminating her perfection.
"You're terrible," she whispered.
He leaned towards the candle too until their lips almost touched through the transparency of the yellow flickering flame.
"And you're beautiful," he whispered in return.
"I'm serious." she said
"So am I." he said in return.
The evening wore on as their eyes continued to meet in the candlelight.
The saxophone played sensually in the background.
"You wanna dance with me Luce?" he breathed, his body craving to be closer.
"Of course I do."
He stood up with her in the darkness and moved to meld her into his arms in the most intimate corner of the dance floor.
Their bodies moved as one as he held her.
The saxophone played sensually in the background.
"Luce," he murmured, his body craving more. "Let's go home now."
"I thought you'd never ask."
The Houston air was cold that night but as they left the restaurant together his whole being throbbed with the love that he felt for her. That Christmas Eve all he wanted was to hold her in his arms ...now ...and for the rest of his life.
Snuggled together on the couch.
Two glasses of expensive brandy.
The brush of her lips against his.
The words.
"I love you, Jeff."
His fingers tracing the perfection of her features.
The words
"I love you too."
Her touch where he craved it the most.
The warmth of her body next to his.
The intimacy.
The intensity.
That night it just seemed so right.
"I wish this night would never end," she murmured as her eyes began to close.
"It won't," he murmured picturing the engagement ring tucked underneath her pillow.
A gentle kiss to her sleeping forehead.
"All you have to do is say yes."
Boston - eleven years later.
He needed a drink.
He couldn't deal with the memories of how it used to be any longer.
He couldn't deal with how she'd made him feel.
He also couldn't deal with one thing going wrong after the other when all he trying to do was make Christmas a little more bearable for his children.
First the debacle of the missing star ... then the issues with the fire ... and to make matters worse his five little boys were soon going to have to find out that Santa Claus didn't shop too well in Department stores either. Alan's bear was bright pink, the only one left that was safe for a baby, Gordon's blocks were red not yellow, they'd run out of stock, Virgil's art equipment came without any browns, it was a new shipment and they seemed to have omitted them, and, after forgetting the name of the book for John he hoped to hell the one he got was right.
The only thing he was sure about was Scott's model plane and from the way the kid had acted all day he didn't even want it. All he wanted was a letter he couldn't give to him from his mother to find a star that was nowhere to be found in the house.
"I gotta have some space Momma." he told her, striding tearfully towards his study. "I'm sorry. I just can't look at that fire anymore."
O-O-O
"Dear Santa,
My name is Scott Tracy and I live a long way from the North Pole. I live in Boston. I'm nine now and very good most of the time. I only want one thing for Christmas this year and if you are real like Grandma says you are, you will work out how to get it from heaven for me. Please leave the letter from my Mommy underneath the Christmas Tree. If you do that, I'll know Mommy and Daddy were just helping you last year and you are a real person.
Thank you."
She'd found the hand written note hidden in the branches of the Christmas Tree. A tree he couldn't really afford but all he wanted to do was to see his children happy.
They'd looked everywhere and there was so sign of Lucille's special star.
Josephine Tracy fought back a tear.
She knew she had done her best but there was nothing more she could do to grant Scott's Christmas wish.
The little boy would wake up Christmas morning and there wasn't going to be any letter from his mommy.
He wouldn't be able to find her star.
And his Daddy would have the additional pain of having to sit there and watch him cry.
O-O-O
He had to be the worst rendition of a Santa Claus the world had ever seen. The suit didn't fit, his beard was all crooked and his eyebrows weren't even remotely white.
But as she watched him from the darkness, Santa Claus moved with silent efficiency from one end of the lounge room to other.
She didn't have a clue what he was doing, actually by the way he kept stopping, starting and scratching his head she didn't think he had much of an idea either, but irrespective, he was methodically counting his paces, double checking them again and trying to get something right.
In the end the stoppings and startings inevitably ended with him standing perplexed right beside the Christmas Tree.
Frowning, she heard him mutter unhappily. "Damn it. That can't be blasted well right."
She watched him more closely as he went back to where he started from and began the whole process over again.
Once again he ended up beside the Christmas Tree.
"Oh well., he shrugged reaching into what looked like a very large sack. "Here goes nothing then."
She couldn't have been more enthralled at what she was witnessing from the darkness. From the sack came presents, each carefully wrapped and lovingly placed underneath the Christmas tree.
After his sack was empty he stood back to admire his work.
In the stillness of the room she then saw him walk towards the fire and reach into his pocket for something else.
He looked down at it for a long time. He ran his fingers over it, slowly at first and then gently as if it meant the world to him.
Finally he lifted it to his lips, lowered his head in front of the fire and wiped the tears from his eyes.
"I hope I got it right, Luce." he whispered.
Then he turned to plunge the white envelope he held right into the depths of the Christmas tree.
"You'd better make sure the fire's out," she warned him softly from the darkness. "You promised your son ten times that you would."
His head turned hesitantly as she came to stand beside him in the half-light of the fire.
"Yes Mom. I was going to see to that next. Only ... I'm not quite ready ...yet.
Her head nodded gently in the firelight.
"I know you're not, son."
A young father's eyes met hers.
"I suppose you think I'm stupid wearing this," he said. "I only wore it in case the kids were watching me ... you know ... doing this. They've lost enough this year without losing their belief in Santa Claus too. "
She smiled and placed her arm around his waist.
"I think you look rather believable, Jeff."
Although his smile was sad, he responded with an affectionate arm around her shoulders.
"Thanks Mom."
They stood in silence watching the flames as they died..
"Mom ..."
"What is it, honey?"
"I found the star."
"Oh honey," she breathed, her eyes shining with joy and relief. "Where on earth did you did you find it?"
The pain in his voice was evident as he set about trying to explain.
Tonight as he sat in his study feeling sorry for himself, he finally decided to open the package he had received from England several days before. Until tonight, he had left it unceremoniously thrown in the corner of his Office feeling bitter and trying to overcome how he felt about them sending presents to his children where they hadn't cared a dime about them in over nine months.
There had been presents in the package as he suspected. Five in all.
There had also been a box wrapped in a special silver paper.
There had been a letter for him from Catherine Evans, Lucy's Mother.
Inside that letter there was also an envelope addressed to Scott ...
... in the distinctive handwriting of his Mother.
His explanation continued.
For some strange reason Lucy had sent the star to her mother three weeks before she died. The star had been accompanied by a set of hand written instructions clearly intended for Scott's eyes only. Lucy hadn't offered an explanation for the unusual act and Catherine Evans had assumed it was because Scott was getting older and too astute for her to have the star sp easily locatable in the house. Lucy had asked her to return the star and the instructions to Boston in plenty of time for Christmas.
"I spent the last three hours reading the instructions over and over again so I knew where to put the star for Scott to find, but somehow I always end up getting it wrong and I finish up standing right next to the Christmas Tree."
Josephine Tracy smiled sadly in the firelight. She was sure Lucille had somehow known and had planned this all along.
"I think you might have found the right place to put it, Santa Claus." she said lovingly.
His head drooped.
"I hope so for Scott's sake."
"Oh Jeff. You are such a good Daddy," she told him. "And don't you ever forget it."
His stood beside her in silence gazing longingly into the dying embers of the fire.
He didn't want to talk about being a Daddy right now.
Without a word she knew it was time to leave him be and slipped away into the darkness.
He had done everything to give his five little boys the very best Christmas that he could.
He needed to be alone now...
By the fire.
And relive the memories of what he'd had before.