Inspired by the song of the same title by Gail Rundlett. It's on Youtube. Give a listen!
Jack had been waiting all day for the snow to stop before he got the snowblower out. When two o'clock rolled around and it was still coming down, slow but persistent, he finally got up off the couch. "I'd better go clear off the driveway now so at least there'll be less to clear later," he said to Kathleen, who was gazing out at the front yard and the bare trees caked with white and the quiet road beyond. "I don't want you having to drive on an ice rink tomorrow."
Kathleen turned away from the window. "Oh, well, thanks, Jack," she said. "I was just thinking, the library might not even open tomorrow if this keeps up." She stretched out her stocking-clad legs and looked back outside. "I kind of hope not, to tell you the truth. I could look at this all day! It's the kind of thing I used to dream of when I was a kid, you know."
Jack chuckled as he pulled on his winter coat. "You didn't get that out of your system last year? I thought you California girls liked your eighty-degree Christmases." Kathleen had been his tenant for a bit over a year, and had taken remarkably well to the massive change in climate, he thought, but she still surprised him now and then.
"We do!" Kathleen admitted. "But I didn't move up here expecting it to be just like LA, you know. And I haven't been disappointed."
Jack was certainly happy to hear that, for Kathleen was his favorite among the tenants he'd occasionally taken on since he'd come up to the north country himself nearly a decade before. The two-storey grey-stone house on a secluded hill just outside of town had been love at first sight and it was still his dream-home, but it was just too big for one person.
Especially for one person who wasn't on his own by choice. But Kathleen had never asked him anything about that, which was just one of the many things Jack loved about the young woman who'd sublet his upstairs bedroom for three months, fallen in love with the house like he had and decided to stay.
The maple trees across the highway were bare but for their fresh white blankets on each branch, the goldenrods lining the edge of his property were a distant memory under the snow, and only the spruce tree beside the driveway offered much color to the scene as Jack guided the snowblower down the hill to the road. On each trip back up the driveway, he was treated to the bittersweet sight of Kathleen relaxing inside with the twinkling reminder of the fire and the Christmas tree lights reflecting in the glass. Despite the chill -- or quite possibly because of it -- he found the sight as beautiful from outside as Kathleen had from inside. The smoke wafting from the chimney promised a warm welcome when the job was done, and the bright colors in the window carried him back half a lifetime to his grandmother's apartment.
It was a modest apartment, in a fraying New Jersey suburb that had since gone to crack houses and worse. But it was where he'd known most of the best Christmases of his youth, and the first few Christmases of his adulthood, home from college and then the Navy with Crystal in tow. He'd been apprehensive at first about bringing Crystal home, having seen Grandma's neighborhood by then for what it really was and also having seen the ritzy place where Crystal had grown up. But she'd done a great job of pretending, he'd had to admit then and now. "Jack, I love it, really!" she'd told him in her car on their way back to college after the first of those few golden holidays. "So quaint and cosy, and your grandma's a hoot!"
Grandma was a hoot all right, full of witty perspective on what did and didn't matter after growing up in the Great Depression, and never one to complain. Jack remembered better than he really wanted to, back in those bygone Christmases when they were all still alive, what a genius she was at setting Crystal at ease about their family traditions. "Jack, did you tell her how your grandmother flies in to greet the little kids?" she'd asked him the first year Crystal had joined them.
"Oh, I knew I forgot something," Jack had quipped, inspiring just the bemused look from Crystal that he'd hoped for. Then there'd been just enough time for Crystal to wonder just what Grandma meant before Jack's father had come bounding in from the kitchen and scooped his mother up in his arms. All the little kids -- Jack's two cousins' kids -- had had shrieked with joy as Dad swooped Grandma safely down to their eye level to ask in a mischievous tone what they wanted in their stockings, which were all hung on the windowsill facing Hickman Avenue, weighted with Grandpa's old ashtrays (he'd finally quit smoking, but the living room still had the memory of the smell). Mom and Aunt Pat would always sit on edge on the sofa with Grandpa and beg Dad to be more careful, but he always got Grandma back in her seat without a hitch. That year was no exception, and Crystal had enjoyed the spectacle as much as the little kids had.
From that day to this, Jack had never known a feeling quite as warm as those Christmases, whether Crystal was there or not.
He wasn't wearing his watch, but he was able to judge it was a bit past two-thirty when Mrs. Prentiss and Sean came trudging up the road. He shut down the snowblower at the foot of the driveway and waved. "Merry Christmas!" he called out.
"You too, Mr. Wolczyk!" Sean was very proud to have mastered Jack's last name, so he always passed on the repeated invitations to call him by his first. "But why're you clearing the driveway now when it's still snowing?"
"Sean!" Mrs. Prentiss never missed an opportunity to fret over the slightest chance her son may have caused offense, which he never had with Jack.
"Oh, I know I'll have to clear it again later," Jack said, smiling to let them both know there was no problem. "But it'll be easier to clear if there's less of it."
"Going to the potluck in town, Mr. Wolczyk?"
"Oh, Sean, that's for kids!" said Mrs. Prentiss. "Sorry, Jack."
"No, Mom, they said everyone's invited!"
"Well, maybe I will," Jack said. Seeing Mrs. Prentiss looked surprised, he went on, "I know I've never made it before -- sounds like I'm missing out, huh?"
"If you don't mind a little mingling with other parents," Mrs. Prentiss said. "I find it a little tedious." She turned to her son. "Sean, go check the mail, will you?"
"Later, Mr. Wolczyk!" And Sean was off to the mailbox just beyond the property line.
"I'm sorry, Jack," Mrs. Prentiss said as soon as the boy was out of earshot. "He doesn't know adults don't really like that sort of thing."
"Who says I don't?" Jack smiled.
"Oh, I just thought...well, I really don't know," Mrs. Prentiss admitted. "I just had the impression...not your thing, you know? If you do go, that's lovely. Maybe I'll see you there?"
"Maybe so. Thanks." He nodded farewell and restarted the snowblower to run it back up to the shed, and told himself yet again he ought not be so secretive with the neighbors. Heaven only knew what they all thought they knew about his past. He'd heard whispers here and there and had opted not to set the record straight. Perhaps he should have, but what was done was done -- for now.
In the mudroom, Jack stamped as much of the snow off his boots as he could before opening the kitchen door. The welcome blast of warmth as he opened it had him immediately looking forward to a long afternoon on the couch watching Christmas movies and drinking cocoa, maybe with a touch of Kahlua and maybe with Kathleen joining him. As if on cue, he heard Kathleen in the living room as he took off his coat. "I think he just walked in, Anthony."
Jack's heart sank, and he reluctantly put his coat back on. What had to be done had to be done.
Sure enough, Kathleen appeared in the kitchen door with the phone. "It's Anthony. Mr. Chandler needs a ride."
"Surprise surprise." Jack smiled through his disappointment as he took the phone; no use in shooting the messenger. "Hi Anthony," he said.
"Jack. Hi. I hate to call you out in this weather, but..."
"Mr. Chandler, is it?"
"I cut him off over an hour ago, but he's still in no shape to drive."
"I can just imagine. Okay, I'll be right down."
"Thanks so much, Jack. Let me give you a burger on the house next time you're free."
"That's really not necessary. I'll see you in a few minutes." Jack hung up the phone and handed it back to Kathleen, who was still looking adorable as ever in her flannel shirt and tight jeans, and woolen socks. "Here, I don't want to track any snow in there."
"Can't they call anyone else to take that drunk home?" Kathleen asked.
"In this weather? Probably not." Jack pulled his coat on. "I'll see you when I get back. How about some movies and hot chocolate then?"
"Sounds delightful, Jack. Drive safely."
"That's why they always call me."
Once again, Kathleen wondered just what Jack meant by that as she watched him go back outside. She'd heard more of the whispers in town than Jack himself had heard, and everyone seemed to assume he'd told her everything. The truth was, like everyone else, she'd never been willing to ask. All she knew that the others didn't was the many pictures of his wife and two kids on display throughout the house, all of them dating to when the kids looked no older than five or so. She, like everyone else who'd heard anything about Jack's life before he'd come up here, had been careful not to ask anything about them.
Jack had returned the favor and never pried into Kathleen's reasons for leaving California for the frozen north. Though she suspected he would understand better than most, she liked it like that. Especially at a time like this where the calls for joy and togetherness were almost smothering. She hadn't even liked that as a little girl and she outright hated it now, but she couldn't deny the appeal of how Jack's living room felt like living in a Christmas card. As she curled up on the couch to flip channels, though, she really wished he hadn't had to go out again. But she admired him enormously for doing so.
O'Kelly's was decked out in the glitter and colors of the season, and it was surprisingly crowded for a weekday afternoon. Probably just the bright side of it being a bad day to drive, Jack reasoned as he stepped in. Mr. Chandler was slumped on a stool at the far end of the bar, and the other patrons had wisely given him a wide berth.
"Jack!" Anthony looked delighted to see him, and Jack couldn't really blame him. "Thanks so much, man," he said, coming out from behind the bar and wiping his hands on his apron to shake Jack's hand. "We had a trainee on bar duty at lunch time who didn't know him, and she let him have way too much. At least he hasn't been talking about trying to drive home this time, but he can't walk all the way home in this slop either, you know?"
"Well, he probably could, but I wouldn't want it on my conscience either if he fell in a ditch somewhere," Jack said. Mr. Chandler lived five miles out of town in the opposite direction from Jack's house, along a two-lane highway that led to the nearest interstate -- not a good road to walk on in good weather, never mind in a snowstorm.
"I'm sorry, Jack," Anthony said. "If I'd been on duty I'd have cut him off sooner and he might even be able to drive home."
"Oh, heavens, Anthony, don't even suggest that."
"Sorry!" Anthony, like most of the townspeople, had heard the rumors about Jack's past. "I'm really sorry, Jack."
"It's all right!" Seeing Anthony wasn't convinced, Jack added, "Maybe I will come back for that burger after I get him home?"
"Please do, Jack, it'd be our pleasure." Anthony had to go back behind the counter to attend to a couple of new customers, so Jack could put off the inevitable no longer. He stepped down the bar and patted Mr. Chandler on the back. "Come on, Bob," he said. "I'll drive you home."
Mr. Chandler jumped to attention at his touch. "Jack!" he exclaimed. "Merry Christmas! But nah, I'll be fine for driving as soon as I sleep this bit off."
"No, you won't, Bob, and you can't just sit here all afternoon either." He tugged on Mr. Chandler's jacket to try to get him to stand up. "Come on, I'm taking you home."
"That really isn't necessary!" Mr. Chandler clung to the edge of the bar and did his best to sit his ground. But Jack didn't let up.
