This story is dedicated to my dear friend, Trish
Patricia stood by the open doorway, looking out through the storm door at her small, snow covered front yard, and the street beyond. Her front porch light illuminated the heavily, but silently, falling snow which prevented traffic on the street. Her heart felt heavy and a tear slid down her cheek because she knew the storm would prevent Tom from coming to see her tonight. He probably would not come tomorrow either because the forecast was for heavy snow through tomorrow night.
She closed the door and pressed her forehead against to cool wood. She could hear a chorale group singing "Jingle Bells" on the radio in the living room. "Why? Why did we have to fight? Now, of all times?" she asked herself.
Christmas Eve and she was alone. Pat had been alone before, but this year she had made wonderful plans. She was going to serve Tom wine and cheese, they would talk and laugh, and then they would exchange gifts. They would dance to slow Christmas carols in the glow of candles and Christmas lights. They would kiss under the mistletoe then she would give herself to him completely. She wanted to make love with him for the first time. He would have been so surprised because she had always said she only believed in sex when married.
She stood in the doorway between the front hall and the living room and looked at the Christmas tree. It was that tree that had caused the fight, and it stood now in the dark corner of her living room, unlit and unappreciated. She could almost see the two of them decorating it only four days ago. Tom had brought over his decorations and they had mixed his and hers together on the branches, and then they untangled the strings of lights and put them in place. When she put the angel on top and turned the lights on, Tom got a funny look on his face. He said he didn't care for twinkling lights and he thought there ought to be a star on the top of the tree. She said of course the lights should twinkle and an angel should be on the treetop. This small disagreement had escalated until she told him if he didn't like how she decorated her tree he could just leave. And he did. And he didn't come back.
She waited in vain all the next day for Tom to call or come over. She waited again for his call the day after that, but he still didn't call. She hoped he would come over at six o'clock this night, like he said he would, but it was nine o'clock now and from the way the weather was, she doubted he could come now, even if he wanted to.
Pat went into the kitchen and put a kettle on to make tea, and then she went back to the front door to look out one more time. There were still no tracks in the snow and there was still no traffic on the road. "It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas" was now playing on the radio. She closed the door and, with new tears in her eyes, went back into the kitchen and made a cup of apple cinnamon spice tea for herself. The sweet odor of the tea filled the room, making her remember Christmases from long ago, when she wasn't alone.
As she sat at the table sipping her tea, she thought back on the last six months. They had met at a singles mixer at church. Tom was so shy it was almost comical. He had been standing by the door just watching everyone talk, and then when the games started, they were paired up for charades. They won! He was brilliant at it and it was as if he could read her mind. That broke the ice and they started talking. When the evening was over, he asked if he could call her and she gave him her number. He called the next day and took her on a real date, with flowers, dinner, a movie, and a quick peck on the cheek when he took her home.
For the first time since her divorce four years ago she had a friend, a love, a soul mate. Tom was kind and gentle and caring. Being around him was a joy because when they were together, his entire attention was on her. He made her feel important, a refreshing thing for her because even her ex-husband had never been very attentive.
They had never been apart for this long since that night at the church. Missing Tom felt like a hole in her heart. Never would she have guessed that one man could mean so much to her. New tears started to fall as she pictured his strong gray eyes looking at her. "Okay, girl," she thought, "pull your self together. What can't be cured must be endured. You can do nothing about the weather, so just accept the fact you won't be seeing him until after Christmas. You can make up with him then."
Pat stood up, put her cup in the sink, and turned out the light as she left the kitchen and went into the living room. An instrumental version of "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" was now playing. She took one last look at the dark tree then turned out the lamp by the easy chair. The soft knock at the door came just as she blew out the first candle. "Must be the wind," she thought as she moved to the next candle. Before she could blow it out she heard another knock, louder this time.
Her heart leaped as she rushed to the door, new hope welling up inside. She flung the door open to see a man standing in the glow of the porch light, covered with snow, looking frozen, and holding a bouquet of flowers.
"Tom?"
"M-M-M-Merry Ch-Ch-Christmas" Tom shivered, pushing the flowers forward.
Pat threw the storm door open, "Get in here, you crazy man! What are you doing out in this kind of weather? And where did you get flowers?"
"I-I-I could-couldn't wait until the st-st-storm was over to s-s-see you again. I didn't want Ch-Ch-Christmas to go b-b-b-by w-w-w-without being with you."
"Well, give me your wet coat and hat," Pat said, "and the flowers." She quickly turned away with Tom's wet things so he wouldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes as she realized what he had done. Pat took one step away and stopped. "No," she thought, "I don't care if he knows I'm crying."
She dropped the flowers, hat, and coat, turned and said, "I'm so glad to see you!" and threw herself into his arms. Tom wrapped her in his arms as she squeezed him tight. "I missed you so much! I'm sorry we had a fight, forgive me, please?"
"It's okay," Tom murmured into her hair. "I'm s-s-sorry I left. I m-m-missed you, too."
Pat looked up, tears now streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, Tom, I..." He shut her up with his lips. The kiss lingered as their lips made up for lost time.
When they finally broke apart, Pat smiled and said, "Come into the kitchen, I'll make you a nice cup of hot tea to help you warm up. Wait. Take off your wet shoes first." She picked up the flowers and handed them to him, then picked up his hat, coat, and shoes and took them into the kitchen. The hat and coat she hung by the radiator, the shoes she put on a piece of newspaper underneath the radiator. Then she turned the burner under the kettle on again.
"If you don't mind, Pat, I would really prefer sugar-free hot cocoa with a half teaspoon of instant decaf coffee in it."
"As chilled as you are, you need to have..." Patricia started to say, then stopped, realizing this was how the fight started before. Smiling at him, she said, "...to have whatever you want. Sit down and I'll get it for you."
Pat bustled around the room, preparing his cocoa and putting the flowers into water. "Where did you get flowers on a night like this?" she asked, as she handed him the cocoa.
"At the 7-11 store by my apartment."
"That's over three miles away! You didn't walk all that way, did you?"
"It was the only way to get here, sweetheart. There are no cars moving on the roads."
"You must be chilled to the bone."
"Well, my feet are kinda cold," Tom said.
