Fifteen months later…
Christmas Eve, Part 1
The night is cold and the Chicago wind bites at exposed flesh with invisible icy teeth. Charlie pulls her wool coat tighter and tightens the scarf around her neck. Wisps of hot breath pour from an opening in the scarf to cloud around her head for a moment. She is making her way down Michigan Avenue having just left The Clayton where she'd been visiting Nora. The street is bustling with last minute shoppers and Salvation Army bell ringers and residents making their way home after a long day doing whatever one does on Christmas Eve. She passes a department store Santa Claus as he drops coins into an open guitar case. The case sits in front of a young musician – he's maybe sixteen. He looks cold, but his voice is beautiful as he sings 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen'. She digs in her bag and throws some dollar bills into the case as well, making sure to weigh them down with the stone sitting there. The boy smiles at her and she mouths "Merry Christmas" before moving on.
Charlie is grinning. Classes are now over for the semester and she feels confident that her hard work this year will be reflected in her grades. She hasn't seen much of Bass this week. He's been getting another VA show together and that always keeps him busy. She'll see him tonight though, and that is one of the reasons for her good mood.
She's on her way to the Art Institute which she knows will be closed by now, but Bass had said to meet her on the front steps, so that's where she's headed. She passes some teenage girls drinking hot chocolate and giggling with each other. As snow begins to fall softly, her grin grows wider. She loves this time of year. Christmas in Chicago is a miracle of beauty and lights and happy people. It doesn't get much better than this.
Charlie gets to the steps of the art museum and looks for Bass. Her smile falters a little when she scans the space and doesn't see him. Shrugging, she climbs up and stands next to one of the iconic lion statutes to keep an eye out. She is more exposed here as the wind blows and the snowfall grows heavier. Pulling her coat even tighter around her body, Charlie squints through the swirling white stuff, searching for some sign of him. She's only been there a few moments when she feels someone behind her. She turns, expecting Bass. It's not him, but it is a familiar face.
"Merry Christmas Joe." She says to the older man with a warm smile in spite of the cold. "I was supposed to meet Bass here. Don't suppose you've seen him?"
Joe chuckles and holds out an arm. "Come with me Charlie. I know just where he is."
"Oh?" her smile falters as she takes the offered arm. Joe leads her to a small employee entrance and opens the door with a badge. "Um Joe?"
"Yes Charlie?"
"The Institute is closed. I don't think we're supposed to be here." She sounds nervous.
Joe laughs. "Don't worry. We know what we're doing."
"We, huh?" she asks with a nervous laugh. "So you and Bass are in on this – whatever this is – together?"
Joe doesn't answer, but leads her down one aisle after another. She is curious about whatever these two have planned, but she loves being here at night. She loves knowing that they have the place almost to themselves. It is quiet. Security lights glow softly on the art, showing these familiar pieces in a new and interesting way. They reach a familiar corridor. She will always think of Mariée when she comes here, because of course this is exactly where it was hanging when she first met Bass. Lately, a Van Gogh has been hanging where the Chagall had been. It's a lovely piece, and as they round the last corner she looks for it, but is struck by a few things all at once. Bass is here. The Van Gogh is gone. Something else is hanging in its place.
Joe pats her back with a fatherly nudge. "You go on Charlie. He's been waiting for a while."
Charlie gives Joe a quick hug before continuing down the corridor. She feels her heartbeat accelerate as the space between them shrinks. He is always handsome and tonight is no different. He is wearing an open necked white shirt and black pants. Over the shirt he's wearing a nubby grey cardigan. She's glad she had decided to dress up a bit as well, knowing he'll love the red dress she's wearing under her bulky coat. Bass' eyes are twinkling and his smile melts her heart. Their eyes hold and in his gaze she finds her happy place all over again. She reaches him, tugging at her scarf and unbuttoning her coat. He helps ease the coat from her body, taking a moment to gently caress her shoulders and arms before tossing the coat onto a nearby bench. He pulls her into his arms, rubbing his hands up and down her back in an effort to warm her up. "You made it." He whispers before kissing her lightly. "And you are beautiful. I love this dress." As he speaks, he runs a fingertip along the low neckline. Charlie feels a shiver at his touch. Even after all this time together, he still makes her body hum.
"Of course I made it, and thank you. You look pretty good yourself." She smirks slightly, pressing both hands lightly against his chest. Her expression slowly changes from amusement to concern, "But I'm a little worried."
"What are you worried about?" his smile fades just a bit, as worry creases his brow.
"You are much too pretty to go to prison. Don't drop the soap." She laughs then and he joins in, pulling her closer and kissing her temple.
"I'm not going to prison."
"So you didn't steal the Van Gogh that was hanging here yesterday?" she nods toward the space on the wall that is currently in shadow. She had sat here admiring it just the day before, and she can tell even without seeing what IS there, that the size is wrong for it to be the Van Gogh.
"No, I didn't steal it. It's still here in the building, just not right here in this space."
"Okay. I trust you. Now, tell me what's going on."
His smile is tender and loving. "How about I show you?" She hears a click, and the space is filled with soft golden light. Charlie's eyes are drawn to the painting which shouldn't be here, but is.
"Oh." She says simply, her voice quiet as she walks closer to inspect the large canvas now spotlighted softly from above. "It's us." Charlie devours the piece with her eyes as Bass approaches her from behind, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body close to his own. The painting is very beautifully detailed, and she recognizes Bass' work immediately. The Chicago city skyline is bold and stretches across the canvas. Overlaying that familiar view are images of Bass and Charlie from the shoulders, up. They are close without touching. She is smiling up at him. He is smiling down at her. Their expressions are loving and gentle. "It's beautiful." She breathes quietly, snuggling closer into his embrace.
He holds up a hand to stop her from saying more. "Do you remember when you said your Mom liked to tell you stories about the paintings?"
"Of course." She replies, curious.
"Well, I want you to listen to the story for this one." She nods with a warm smile, encouraging him to continue. He does, "Once there was this guy who was sad and lost. He was going through the motions. He didn't even realize how empty his life was. This guy wrapped himself up in his work and pretended he had everything he needed even though he didn't. Part of him was broken."
"Broken, huh?"
"Yeah. And then he met this girl – this woman, and she helped him fix everything that was broken. She was beautiful and smart and funny and brave," he squeezes her shoulders gently, "She was amazingly talented with a paint brush, and you know… in bed." Charlie laughs at this and punches him playfully, but her eyes are full of love. Bass continues, "He didn't deserve her at all, and he kept screwing things up and he thought maybe he'd lost her forever, but somehow she decided to give him another chance..."
Charlie leans up for a lingering kiss, before taking over the story telling, "This girl – this woman was all alone and wasn't sure she would ever find anyone special. She was also going through the motions. When she met him, she was immediately intrigued by his charm and his talent and it didn't hurt that he was smokn hot." Charlie grins at him. "She was scared to pursue her dreams, and she doubted herself so much. She had a lot to learn about life and love, and he had a lot to teach her. She made mistakes too. She didn't always trust him when she should have. Eventually she realized she had to listen to her heart."
"And what did her heart say?"
"It said he was the answer to her every question. He was everything she was looking for."
Their lips meet in a kiss that is sweet and gentle and full of their love for each other. "I love you Charlie." He says softly.
"Oh Bass. I love you too." She motions toward the painting, "But seriously, what's this all about?"
"There was this one time a long time ago, when you said maybe someday you'd like some sort of grand romantic gesture…" he watches her carefully, smiling when he sees that she remembers.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, and I guess I was wondering if maybe this is grand enough?"
"You mean painting a romantic portrait of us and then risking prison to hang it in the Art Institute of Chicago?"
"Well, yeah except for the prison part. Joe helped me with that. He cleared all of this with the board."
"Really?" Charlie is skeptical. "I'm surprised a museum guard has that kind of pull."
"Yeah, well he doesn't talk about it much, but Joe is more than just a guard. He's actually kind of a big deal around here." Bass says with a sly grin.
"What are you talking about?" Charlie asks curiously.
"He's on the Art Institute's board, Charlie. Joe and his wife are very wealthy. They both love art and have done a lot to support Chicago artists and the Institute. I guess he's been involved here for decades. He does the museum guard job just for fun. So anyway, when he asked the board for a favor, they said yes."
"So no prison?"
"No prison – as long as we hang the Van Gogh back up before we leave and Joe will reset the security alarm on it…."
"Hey Bass."
"Yeah?"
She grins at him happily, "Yes."
"Yes what?" his eyes are sparkling.
"This gesture is grand enough."
He grins, "Well, I'm not actually done just yet."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," and with that he pulls a small box from his pocket. It is the color of a summer sky and tied with an elegant white bow. "This is for you." He opens the box slowly, revealing a ring. The platinum band is narrow and elegant with small engravings that go all the way around. The diamond is round and sparkles brilliantly under the golden spotlight.
Charlie's hand is shaky as she reaches out to touch it. As her fingers brush against his, Bass Monroe leans down on one knee, and grins. "Will you marry me Charlotte Matheson?" His eyes are sparkling almost as brightly as the diamond.
"Oh yes Bass. Yes I will." She pulls him to his feet, and their lips meet in a kiss that is soft and gentle, but also heated with promise. They pull apart and he glides the ring onto her finger. Reverently, she says, "It's so beautiful."
"Not nearly as beautiful as you are." He leans in close, resuming the kiss with more intensity than before.
"Let's get out of here." She whispers against his mouth.
"Yes, let's." he replies with a chuckle.
Christmas Eve, Part 2
What had started out as a soft snowfall is now almost a blizzard. The wind whips and the snow blows, covering Chicago in a beautiful blanket of pristine white snow. Bass and Charlie make it to their place as quickly as they can, rushing to enter the warmth within. The space is small, but it suits them. They have merged their possessions in the same way they have merged their lives – with passion and creativity.
The apartment remains largely unchanged since the days when Charlie lived there alone, but some things are definitely different. The red couch she had once posed upon at The Clayton has replaced her old brown one. On one wall of the living room Bass had built shelves to hold his record collection. The walls look like an art museum. Paintings are everywhere. Some are his. Some are hers. Some are theirs together (painting in tandem or side by side – these are some of their favorites). Interspersed between their own works are a handful of paintings they have purchased at galleries. The overall effect is of brilliant color and warmth. Everyone who visits comments on how at home they feel there.
Tonight, their little apartment is in disarray. The lights still twinkle on the small Christmas tree that sits in a corner of the living room. The ornaments that hang from its branches had been Charlie's idea. Instead of classic glass balls or tinsel, she'd purchased an economy bag of paint brushes and hung them with colorful ribbons.
The branches have traded their leaves for white sleeves
All warm-blooded creatures make ghosts as they breathe
Scarves are wrapped tightly like gifts under trees
Christmas lights tangle in knots annually
Bass and Charlie aren't in the room now, but the evidence of their gift exchange is everywhere. Strewn around the tree are brightly colored wrapping paper scraps, ribbons and empty boxes. Among the holiday rubble lays a Rolling Stones album (Sticky Fingers) that Charlie had given Bass. It was meant to replace the one he'd buried with his Dad years before. He, of course, had loved it. Next to the album lays a framed photo. It's a copy of the one from her Dad's wall. It shows Charlie with her Mom taking a painting class together long ago. It had been Bass' gift to her and Charlie's eyes had filled with happy tears when she opened it.
Our families huddle closely
Betting warmth against the cold
But our bruises seem to surface
Like mud beneath the snow
Propped against one wall is the skyline painting Bass had hung in the Institute. Eventually it will join the others displayed around the apartment. Hanging haphazardly on one corner of the painting is Bass' grey sweater. His shoes and her scarf have been tossed against one wall. Down the hallway just a bit, Charlie's red dress is strewn across the floor. Her shoes and more wrapping paper trail into their bedroom. Bass' white shirt and dress pants lie just inside the bedroom door. Charlie's panties are lying on top of the lamp on her night stand. Clearly these two have been celebrating Christmas in their own special way.
So we sing carols softly, as sweet as we know
A prayer that our burdens will lift as we go
Like young love still waiting under mistletoe
We'll welcome December with tireless hope
Over the bed hangs Bass' copy of Mariée. It is under her watchful eye that they cuddle, naked and spent, tangled in sheets and happiness. Charlie looks at her ring again and can't stop the grin that covers her face.
"So we're really getting married?" she asks quietly as if this is all just a dream.
He buries his face in her hair, stroking his fingers softly against her arm. "Yes we are."
"You and Dad have been getting along so well. Do you think he'll be happy about this?"
Bass chuckles, "He is happy about it. I talked to him before I asked you."
"You did? Really?" she beams at him. It's not that she's surprised. It's not the first time he's done something romantic, but she loves that he knows her well enough to know her Dad's approval is important.
"Yes really. I wanted to do this right, because I'm not planning on ever proposing again. This is it for me. You are it." Bass kisses her softly, his touch like feathers against her skin.
She sighs contentedly into his embrace. "You are it for me too."
"I'm glad. I'm getting too old to chase off the competition."
She laughs, "Oh shut up. You are amazing. You will always be amazing. There is no competition."
"I don't know about that, but I know that I feel amazing. I feel amazing when I'm with you."
Let our bells keep on ringing
Making angels in the snow
May the melody disarm us
When the cracks begin to show
Like the petals in our pockets
May we remember who we are
Unconditionally cared for
By those who share our broken hearts
Christmas Day
Some time later, in the early morning hours of Christmas, Charlie sits at the bay window of their living room, watching the snow cascade onto the city streets. She takes a sip of camomile tea and wraps her hands around the mug to warm them. After all the excitement of this evening, she can't sleep. Feeling the steam from the tea rise up to her face, she closes her eyes and imagines for a moment that her mother could be at her wedding.
The table is set and our glasses are full
Though pieces go missing, may we still feel whole
We'll build new traditions in place of the old
'cause life without revision will silence our souls
A wool blanket gently envelops her shoulders, soon followed by a pair of strong warm arms, and Charlie smiles, taken out of her silent reverie. Bass slowly runs his nose along her cheek and presses a lingering kiss to her temple. "Merry Christmas," he whispers into her ear.
Absentmindedly, she spins the beautiful new ring on her left hand. She turns to face him, and adjusts the wool blanket, wrapping it around both of them. "Merry Christmas," she whispers back into his lips.
Let our bells keep on ringing
Making angels in the snow
May the melody disarm us
When the cracks begin to show
Like the petals in our pockets
May we remember who we are
Unconditionally cared for
By those who share our broken hearts
They sit in silence, softly touching and kissing. "Bass," Charlie muses, "Do you think it will it be easy?"
"What, being married?"
She nods.
He shakes his head, "Nothing about life is ever easy Charlie. Hell, you know as well as I do that even doing something as joyful as making art is an enormous challenge. Getting married won't be a magic ticket to perfection. Sometimes it will still be hard."
Charlie rests her cheek against the smooth expanse of his chest and sighs.
"Now," Bass says, kissing the top of her head, "Ask me if it will be worth it."
She smiles, "Will it be worth it?"
"It will be, I'm sure of it, because we'll be together. I want to share my life with you Charlie, because if you're with me, the bad will be so much easier to bear, and the good will be even sweeter to savor."
Charlie sighs deeply and closes her eyes again, imagining their amazing life that Bass has described. She looks up at him, blue eyes on blue. She beams at him adoringly, squeezing both of his hands in hers. "I can't wait to get started."
As gentle as feathers, the snow piles high
Our world gets rewritten and retraced every time
Like fresh plates and clean slates, our future is white
New year's resolutions will reset tonight
Author's Note: So it's over, but oh what a wonderful ride it's been. Thank you a million times over to Priya for the original story inspiration, the guidance, the shoulder to cry on and especially the HUGE assist she gave me with the epilogue (I was running on empty and she saved the day…again).
An additional giant thank you to each and every one of you who took the time to read or review or give us feedback. You guys rock!
Song credit for the epilogue goes to the Chicago based band Sleeping at Last. The song is Snow. Another big musical thank you to Priya. She was responsible for almost every song choice within the story.