Christmas Lights Read online

  Her mother waited. Finally Addie spoke softly yet decisively. “I think I should bring a vanilla cupcake—Karen doesn’t like vanilla.”

  The mother nodded, kissed Addie on the forehead, took a vanilla cupcake from the cupboard, placed it in her lunchbox, and sent her to bed.

  “You truly are a peacemaker, Adrianna,” their mother said. “And you know what they say: ‘Blessed are the peacemakers.’ ”

  All eyes were glued to Addie.

  “I stood up to Ron,” she finally said. There was silence. No one dared to touch this one. They deferred to their mother as to what to say on the outside, but on the inside, each was wildly cheering her on.

  “So you stood up to Ron?” the mother repeated without emotion.

  Addie nodded.

  “We love him, dear, but maybe he does need a little standing up to,” their mother, forever the diplomat, said.

  The sisters nodded in agreement, trying not to make their pleasure so obvious. They had felt that Ron needed standing up to for a while and more than a few times had offered to do it for her.

  “I stood up to him … and he apologized.”

  “Go, Addie!!” Victoria cheered. “Ooops. Sorry.”

  Adrianna laughed. “That’s okay. I think it might have made things better,” she said self-consciously. This kind of thing was difficult for her. She knew how her sisters felt. That maybe she should stick up for herself a bit more. That maybe they didn’t like Ron quite so much. But …

  “I think it might make things better too,” the mother gently assured her. She reached over and touched her daughter’s hand. They exchanged a look—a look from a mother that told her daughter that she loved her just the way she was.

  “Good girl,” the mother said to her ever so softly.

  “Thank you,” Addie mouthed back.

  “Hey, just for the fun of it,” Isabella teased, “just how surprised was Ron?”

  Addie giggled. “Very.”

  “Works for me,” Isabella joked. They let themselves laugh. Someone ruffled Addie’s hair.

  The mother said “Well, who’s left?” Scanning the table, her gaze fell upon Cassie. She allowed her eyes a glint of sadness.

  “I am,” Cassie offered, willing her voice to sound cheerful and perky. Instead it came out sounding more like a croak. The others ignored it and Cassie tried again.

  “Hello, Cassandra,” the mother said. “Tell me something that will make me smile.”

  Cassie nodded and gulped and willed her voice strong. “Well,” she began. The room was silent except for the gentle clanging of a fork against a dish or a spoon grazing the side of a teacup. Cassie looked back at them and wished their eyes didn’t look so sad. It made her feel pathetic, which in some ways she was, but less so these days than others. But she knew it was love and concern in their eyes, and she loved them back for it.

  “I’m doing well,” she said. They responded with unsure, weak smiles and nods.

  “Really,” she said. “I—” she began. It was a sentence that she wasn’t sure she should have started or should even continue. It was like verbalizing your deepest darkest secret. Admitting it to herself was difficult enough. Saying it out loud was frightening.

  “I’m doing well,” she repeated.

  “I find him in things,” she said, waiting for their responses. Would they think she was crazy? That was her biggest fear. But they didn’t react; they just listened. She took in some air and began again.

  “I find him in things,” she explained. She struggled for just the right words. “Like … like … like smells … like oranges. He loved oranges.” She gulped as her eyes filled with tears. She had gathered the courage to go this far and she wasn’t going to turn back. “I find him in sunsets and clouds—it’s corny, I know, but I do. I find him when I hear trains. Remember how he loved trains? So I find him in things,” she said, her voice quivering. “And it makes it a little okay.”

  They were nodding now with tears streaming down their faces. They understood. They did not think she was crazy. They thought she was amazing.

  “I sat for a while in his room today,” she said. “And I felt him—and it helps—it makes me a little stronger.” She was crying now, but it was okay. She bowed her head. She was done.

  “Good for you, Cassie,” Tori said.

  “Yeah, really good for you, Cass,” Isabella said.

  The others joined in nodding with chirps of encouragement.

  “Good girl,” the mother said. “Good girl, Cassandra.”

  “Thanks, Mom” she said, wiping her face dry. She was okay.

  They relaxed in the moment. One by one they joined hands. The candles had burned down to provide the perfect golden flickering glow. They were warmed by the fireplace as well as by the overwhelming love that filled the room. They knew how lucky they were. They wanted to bask in it for just a moment.

  The mother checked her watch. It was a signal to them. With each girl doing her part, they cleared the table of dishes, leaving only a twenty-inch evergreen tree in the center. Their time alone was almost over for another year.

  “Well,” the mother said, smiling lovingly at them. “It certainly seems as if you have all been busy and that you have all been well. You have been smart and strong and good. You have done for yourselves but done more for others. It seems as if you have loved and laughed … It seems that you have made me proud. It seems that you have made me smile.”

  Her daughters surrounded her.

  “Good girls,” she said.

  And without any more words, the mother handed each a red satin box. The boxes were well taken care of but showed their age with their faded color and fraying edges.

  Each daughter silently and very carefully opened her box, reached inside, and pulled out its contents. Peeling off the red tissue paper, each revealed a delicate white Christmas bulb bearing a baby picture of herself. On the back of each bulb was a switch. One by one each daughter turned her bulb on, illuminating it with a warm, soft glow. They couldn’t help but smile at the images of themselves from long ago. The mother turned off the dining room lights and one by one, beginning with Izzy down to Julie, they took their turns placing their bulb on the tree until it held six glowing bulbs. It stood looking beautiful.

  They joined hands to pray. With hearts swelling with love, feeling God’s grace, they prayed. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.”

  Together they said, “Amen.”

  With just a moment left, they paused and faced their mother and waited for her to say it. And because it was tradition, she did. She said, “Every day you are the lights of my life. But today, my loves, you are my Christmas lights.”

  There was just enough time for each to have one more teary-eyed hug before the doorbell rang announcing the arrival of the others.

  Christmas Lights

  Pecan-Crusted

  Salmon Salad with Orange-Tarragon

  Vinaigrette

  Serves 8

  8 three-ounce portions boneless, skinless salmon

  2 cups clover honey

  2 cups coarsely ground pecans

  Vinaigrette

  ½ cup orange juice

  ½ cup apple cider vinegar

  ¼ cup granulated sugar

  2 tablespoons minced shallot

  2 tablespoons minced fresh tarragon

  2 cups olive oil

  Salt and pepper

  Salad Mix

  2 heads romaine lettuce, chopped

  1 pound fresh field greens

  1 cup diced celery (approximately ¼ inch)

  2 cups canned mandarin oranges, drained

  1 cup dried cranberries

  1 cup sliced toasted almonds

  Preheat oven to 350°F. Coat salmon portions on one side with honey, t
hen dip into ground pecans, preferably not skin side. Place portions, coated sides facing up, on a buttered or oiled cookie sheet (vegetable spray may be substituted). Bake for 12 minutes.

  Meanwhile, combine all vinaigrette ingredients except the olive oil and salt and pepper in a blender or food processor and blend. Add the olive oil in a steady flow, ½ cup at a time, so dressing emulsifies. Add salt and pepper to taste.

  Combine the salad mix ingredients in a large mixing bowl. (Extra mandarin orange slices, almonds, and cranberries may be reserved for garnish, if desired.) Toss with the vinaigrette and divide among individual plates. Top with the salmon, garnish, and serve. Salmon may be served hot, cold, or at room temperature.

  Recipe created by Chef Rocco Frank Pisera