Christmas Lights Read online

  She took a deep breath and took a long look at the letter. She nodded and laughed out loud, running her fingers over the print of her grandmother’s name.

  “Thank you, Nunnie,” she whispered, looking heavenward. “Thank you.” She could feel her presence right then. She could feel her placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

  Alexandra sprang into action. She grabbed her shoes and slid into them, then threw on her coat. She ran to the refrigerator and carefully pulled out the vinaigrette and croutons. Then she slung her purse over her arm and ran out the door. She quickly stuffed the wreaths into the back seat. She didn’t want to be late to dinner at her mother’s. She was already backing the car out of the driveway when the phone ran. If she had waited just another minute, she would have been in time to hear the good news from her doctor, the good news that she already knew.

  Isabella

  Isabella put on her red sweater coat, wrapped the belt around her waist, and pulled it tight. After she threw her purse over her shoulder, she went to the refrigerator and grabbed the bowl of mandarin oranges that she had left to marinate. She was just taking one last look around the apartment and was about to switch off the light when the phone rang. In an average life, a person answers the phone thousands of times, but only a handful of those calls change a life. This phone call was one of Isabella’s handful.

  “Oh my! Oh my goodness! Oh, yes! Yes!” she bellowed into the phone. “I’ll be right there,” she assured emphatically.

  “Thank you so much,” she squealed. “Can you believe it! On Christmas Eve of all days. Now, this is for sure, right? He will be there, won’t he? … Right … Right. … Okay … Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much and Merry Christmas.”

  Later Isabella wouldn’t remember most of the drive to the airport. Her mind raced with a million thoughts, but she couldn’t recall a single one. She felt excited and scared at the same time. She found a parking spot closer to the terminal than she had expected. She turned off the engine and forced herself to take in a huge gulp of air, trying to calm down. Then she checked her face in the visor mirror and laughed out loud. She put on lipstick anyway, knowing he wouldn’t notice or care.

  Right then and there she realized that this was a turning point in her life and that when she walked back out of the airport, she would not be the same person that she was when she walked in.

  She gently touched the golden cross that was hanging from a chain from the rearview mirror and looked heavenward. She closed her eyes to pray that this was right. In her heart she knew it was, but somehow she needed His affirmation.

  “I’m sure everybody is always asking for signs,” she whispered. “And I’m sure you’re really busy, I mean especially today, but if you wouldn’t mind …” Her voice trailed off.

  She reminded herself that God knew what she needed before she did, so she probably didn’t need to take His time up by going on and on. Besides, she had to go. She hurried into the terminal and felt swallowed up by the maze of activity. There was electricity in the air. It was a happy energy present every day but especially there on Christmas Eve. For the most part, all of the noises mixed smoothly together, then every once in a while there would be an excited squeal followed by joyful laughter. They were the sounds of reunion and love. This was happening all over the building. Bystanders turned to watch the hugging and enjoy the happiness of others. But wasn’t that what Christmas was all about?

  She checked the arrivals board against the slip of paper on which she had scrawled his flight number. It read ON TIME. She made her way through the crowds and found the gate. Her excitement began to swell again. She was a little early. The rows of seats were mostly empty, except for an elderly gentleman sleeping in one corner seat and a young man wearing an iPod in another.

  She chose the first seat in the first row. Settling herself, she stomped a few flakes of snow off her boots, smoothed her sweater, positioned her purse on her lap, and ran her hand through her hair. Then she fixed her eyes on the door. Her concentration lasted only a moment. All of a sudden unsure that she had chosen the perfect seat, she got up and moved three seats to the left. She wiggled herself into place and squinted at the door. Deciding this wasn’t the right seat either, she got up again. After another four moves she thought she might have it. But as she stared at the door from her current vantage point, she was losing confidence again.

  She was just about to try two seats to the right when a brown-haired woman in a gray furry parka flopped down next to her with a long sigh and a thud. Right away the woman turned to her with a warm smile. “Merry Christmas,” she said, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, then crossing her eyes when a stubborn lock floated back down across her face. Isabella laughed. She decided she liked the woman right away.

  “Merry Christmas,” she greeted back.

  “Lisa,” she said, introducing herself and offering Isabella her hand.

  “Isabella,” Isabella said, taking her hand. She thought that Lisa just might be one of those people who carry the Christmas spirit in their heart all year long.

  “My son’s supposed to be on this flight,” Lisa offered, motioning to the door. “Notice,” she said, laughing, “I said ‘supposed to.’ He’s in college now and, well, you know….” She laughed, her voice trailing off.

  Lisa pulled the collar of her jacket toward Isabella. She was wearing a photo button displaying a nice-looking boy of eighteen or so posing proudly in a basketball uniform.

  Isabella smiled. “Handsome,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Lisa said, giving the photo a quick adoring look.

  Lisa looked as if she might melt. Lately Isabella had been studying the way that mothers looked at their children. No matter how young or old, no matter how tiny or tall they were, it was always with the most amazing love. Lisa looked back at Isabella with a hopeless gesture.

  “He’s the love of my life,” she said as if to explain it all. “One minute they’re little and needing you all the time, and the next they’re grown and gone and you’re waiting by the phone hoping they return your phone calls. I love that he’s independent, but I hate it. College boy,” she said with a proud smile. “His name is Matthew.” She said his name as if it were the most beautiful word she had ever heard.

  “He was so attached when he was little. I used to joke that I walked on the bottoms of my feet and he walked on the tops. He never left my side. Now when he’s home, I follow him around the house.” Lisa laughed heartily, her eyes focused on the past.

  “Once, when he was three, he told me he loved my face.” She laughed so hard, tears came to her eyes. “Oh, gosh,” she exclaimed. “Listen to me going on and on. I’m such a sap. Enough about me. Who do you have on this flight?”

  Isabella blinked. The question stunned her. She sighed and a rush of excitement filled her again. Lisa was waiting for her response. The first time she opened her mouth, no sound came out. She laughed. She tried again.

  “My son,” she said. “My son is on this flight.”

  “Oh, great,” said Lisa. “I’ll get to take a peek at him.”

  Just then the terminal door slid open.

  “OOOOHHH!” Lisa cried as she sprang up from her chair and ran across the room.

  She made eye contact with Isabella one last time and waved, beaming as she mouthed the words “Merry Christmas” before she focused expectantly on the doorway. In a moment she had her arms wrapped around a handsome muscular half boy, half man. She was hugging him tightly, rocking back and forth and laughing. The boy was laughing also, with a beautiful mix of embarrassment and joy on his face. He didn’t want her to stop. Isabella couldn’t help but laugh with them. She was so caught up in their moment that she barely heard the sound of her name being called.

  “Isabella Tenley,” someone called in a thick accent.

  “Oh, oh!” Isabella called back into the thick crowd while fumbling to get her driver’s license out of her pocket.

  They told her to make sure she had it handy. She tripped through
the crowd, craning her neck.

  “I’m here!” she called “I’m here. Don’t go away.” Immediately she realized this was a stupid thing to say. No one was going to travel twenty-five hundred miles to go away after two minutes of searching for someone. She was trying not to panic, but not seeing them was driving her crazy.

  “I’m here,” she called again.

  Suddenly there was a gap in the crowd and she almost fell through it.

  “We are here too,” called a sweet, accented voice.

  Lisa stumbled, catching herself. She looked up, coming face to face with two tiny nuns.

  “Hello, Sister—Sisters,” she said, trying to smooth her clothes and hair at the same time. The nuns stood calmly, almost serenely, as if they had seen this all before and were just waiting for her to calm down.

  “I’m Isabella.” She took a deep breath. “I’m Isabella Tenley,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

  “I’m Isabella Tenley,” she said again softly.

  The nuns nodded knowingly. “Yes,” they said, nodding back at her. Then together they gently raised the bundle between them. Isabella gasped, holding a hand to her quivering mouth. Tears flowed gently down her cheeks. One of the nuns slowly pulled back one layer of a powder blue blanket to reveal the face of the most beautiful baby boy Isabella had ever seen. She just stared. He was far more beautiful than she had ever dreamed.

  “You are mother now,” the one sister announced brightly.

  “Yes, yes,” the other agreed, beginning to untangle herself from the blanket and diaper bag that hung on her shoulder. She hung the bag on Isabella’s arm while the other sister handed over the baby.

  “You are mother now,” the one repeated.

  Isabella nodded. “Yes. Yes,” she said, laughing. “Thank you. Thank you both very much.” The baby was waking and beginning to wriggle beneath the blanket.

  “Okay, honey,” Isabella said, unwrapping him a bit and straightening him up. He popped his head up turtlelike and raised two chubby arms. In one of his pudgy hands he was holding a small gold cross that hung on a thin, delicate chain.

  “He holds them the whole way,” the one nun explained.

  “Must be for you,” the other suggested. Isabella knew these two women were angels.

  “Thank you.” Isabella nodded. She gently tugged them from his tiny hand. He willingly let them go.

  “See?” the smaller of the two chirped.

  The baby looked into her eyes and blew bubbles out of his adorable mouth. Isabella laughed out loud. He was amazingly cute.

  “Okay,” one announced.

  “Yes, okay,” the other agreed.

  Isabella looked up, startled. They were gathering their things. A tiny wave of panic ran through her.

  “You are mother now. Merry Christmas,” the one said.

  “Yes, you are mother now, Merry Christmas.”

  Stunned, Isabella watched as they each gently planted a soft kiss on the baby’s forehead. Then they turned to her squarely.

  “God bless. Good-bye,” they said together, then turned away. Isabella stood with her mouth hanging open as she watched them shuffle away, comparing the tickets they held in their hands to the signs above them.

  “Thank you,” Isabella called after them. They didn’t hear her. They melted into the crowd and disappeared.

  Isabella took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe she was standing there with a baby in her arms. It felt like a dream. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. He was still there and staring very intently back at her.

  “Okay,” she said, kissing his nose. She loved the way he blinked when she did that.

  “It’s you and me, baby,” she said, trying to calm herself down. She took a deep breath.

  “Relax,” she said to herself. “We’re just like everyone else.”

  She began to walk out of the airport. Then she corrected herself. “We’re luckier than everyone else.”

  Once outside, she shielded him from the wind and the snowflakes. She looked up into the night sky. The baby looked up too. She studied his perfect profile against the black sky. He turned to look at her. He was really seeing her. He studied her face with huge baby eyes. He looked at her as if he had known her all his young life. He was serene and trusting.

  “I’m your mama,” she told him, pretty sure he already knew this.

  “I will love you forever,” she added. She said this just in case someday when he was older, he would ask her what her first words to him were.

  He made a baby gurgling sound and ever so deliberately raised one finger and carefully guided it to her lips. She closed her eyes, soaking in the moment as she felt his tiny touch. She kissed his finger and said, “Thank you for coming.”

  One snowflake drifted down from above and landed on top of his tiny eyelash. Isabella had never seen a more beautiful sight. He blinked but it stayed there a moment before melting. The moment was mesmerizing. She wiped tears of gratitude off her face. Looking heavenward, she said, “Thank you.” She knew that in that snowflake, she had been given the sign she had asked for.

  “Let’s get ready to go to Grandma’s,” she told him. “It’s Christmas Eve, you know.”

  Once in the car, she looked behind her, checking on him. She had spent months looking in that same rearview mirror at the empty car seat. Now it held the love of her life. She smiled and she put the car in reverse, then put on the brakes and shifted back into park. She fished in her pocket and pulled out the tiny gold cross and chain he had just given her. After untangling it, she hung it on the rearview mirror along with hers. She loved the way they looked together.

  Christmas Lights

  One at a time, the cars crept onto St. Martinique Drive. The street had been dusted with crystal-white Christmas Eve snow. The first car arrived at five-forty-five, driven by the chronically early sister. She slid her car into a parking spot and waited for the others. One by one each arrived outside of the red brick, two-story home. Almost on cue, a delicate breeze seemed to blow the snow so that it covered the tracks of each car, leaving the street pristine white after each vehicle parked. The next car arrived five minutes later, found a spot, shut off its engine, and waited. The next two arrived three minutes later, and just a minute after came another. At that point, they were five waiting on the sixth. No one was worried or annoyed. With understanding and patience they waited seven more minutes for the chronically late sister. When she realized she was late as usual, she took the bend in the road a touch more swiftly than the others, parked a little more quickly, then cut her engine. Its clank elicited a collective smile from the five others. Once all of them were there, they began getting out of their vehicles. They took care to shut the doors gently. As was their tradition, they would arrive together, and even though they had been told to come at 6:00 P.M. they still liked to make it a surprise.

  With muffled giggles, the six sisters tiptoed up to the doorway of the sixty-year-old house. On the porch they exchanged grand hugs and huge smiles. Every once in a while a delighted squeal would escape, but for the most part they were quiet. They were giddy with the excitement of seeing each other and with the anticipation of the evening that lay before them. Once satisfied that everyone had been greeted and hugged (some twice), they arranged themselves in a group facing the front door.

  If one were to go inside of the house and examine the dozens of photographs that were hung on walls, set out on end tables, and pasted into albums, they would realize that they were arranged exactly in the same way in each one that they were now arranged facing the front door.

  It was the way their mother had always placed them, so they were trained. In the back row to the far left stood Isabella, the eldest. Beside her was Alexandra, and next came Victoria. In front of them left to right were Cassandra, Adrianna, and Julianna. Every single one of them had been born in August, six years apart. Their mother preferred to totally devote herself to the first most important six years of a child’s life. Then on the month befo
re each one was to enter first grade, she gave birth to the next sister. She said she needed a baby on her hip to help her wave good-bye to the beautiful one who was ready to fly away. She always said she would cry as she watched the school bus drive down the street, but before she reached the front door she had wiped the tears away, inspired by the infant she was holding—her project for the next six years.

  And her dedication had paid off, because standing on that porch were six wonderfully adjusted, productive, good women. They had turned out well—actually more than well. They were smart and kind and unique. They were independent and energetic. They loved themselves, each other, and God.

  No mother ever anywhere had put more into their children than their mother had put into them. She was an educator and mother through and through. She filled their days with reading and writing, literature and science, music and the arts of every kind. They learned, exploring and creating freely. They were taught to be smart but, just as much, they were taught to be kind. They took care of themselves but served others and the community by picking up litter and baking muffins for elderly neighbors. They planted gardens and shoveled snow. They sang and danced and prayed.

  Their mother had given them regal names. They were beautiful yet smart names. In its proper form, each name was both unique and a mouthful to say, flowery yet intelligent. No one was named for a season or emotion (no Summer or Joy). No one was named for a color or a flower (no Amber or Rose). No one was named for a month or a city (no April or Savannah).

  Standing before the front door were Isabella, Victoria, Cassandra, Alexandra, Adrianna, and Julianna.

  In front of the door they giggled and adjusted themselves one last time; then, as was the tradition, they let Julianna, the youngest, ring the bell. “The baby of the family is in charge of all buttons and bells,” their mother had always said. And since no one came after Julianna, the job was hers forever.