The Christmas Women Page 5

  “She doesn’t know yet. She said we should have a conference call and figure out a time.”

  Mary Ann stood up. “Okay, I like it! I do. The three of us could go see Mrs. Childs and surprise her.”

  “Yes. Maybe we could even do our old Rockettes’ act,” Trudie said.

  Mary Ann laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot? Maybe we could call some of the others who were in the Christmas shows. Are there any still living in town?”

  Trudie thought. “Not many. Like your father and brother, most moved away. Even Kristen’s parents moved away several years ago.”

  “Can you reach Kristen now?”

  “I think so. Hang on. I’ll try her.”

  Minutes later, Kristen was on the line. They fell into easy conversation, laughing, chatting, sharing old stories and struggling to recall the names of old classmates and teachers.

  “Okay,” Trudie said. “Let’s set a date when you both can come.”

  “I like Mary Ann’s idea about getting some other people together to go see Mrs. Childs,” Kristen said. “We could put on a little show for her.”

  “There aren’t that many people around, Kristen,” Trudie said. “There’s Ray and Connie Baker. That’s about it.”

  “Then let’s track the old group down and ask them to come,” Mary Ann said.

  “Sure, why not,” Kristen added.

  “Okay, wait a minute,” Trudie said. “Wait a minute. I just had an idea. If you two could make a long weekend, let’s say sometime in December, maybe we have enough time to call some others and have a kind of Christmas reunion. Maybe we could even put together a small little Christmas show for Mrs. Childs and perform it somewhere. That would cheer her up. And it would be fun. Just like the old days.”

  “Holy wow!” Mary Ann said. “I like it! I do.”

  “I love it!” Kristen said. “I absolutely love it! The Christmas Girls together again, putting on a show for Mrs. Childs? It’s perfect!”

  The three began to brainstorm, their excitement and enthusiasm spreading like a wild fire. They’d call and email old classmates, engage the community to help with publicity and raise money, talk to the high school board about using the high school auditorium. They’d find musicians, hang decorations, build sets, choose music, cater food and help find motels for guests.

  “Wait a minute!” Trudie said. “Do we have enough time to do all this? I mean, Thanksgiving is this Thursday. That only leaves us about three weeks. Nobody wants to be away from their family on Christmas.”

  There was a long, thoughtful silence.

  Kristen spoke up. “Okay, look. You’re there, Trudie, with Ray. You’re both going to have to be the point people, the main contacts, at least initially, until we get there.”

  “Kristen, do we have the time to do this?” Trudie repeated.

  “Hell yes, we have the time! Of course we do. We’ve got to do this for Mrs. Childs.”

  “And for ourselves,” Mary Ann said. “We need to be together again. It’s been too long and we can’t let this opportunity pass us by. I can make a lot of calls at this end. Who was the 20th reunion coordinator, Trudie?”

  “Ray Howard.”

  “Great, so we’ll get emails and phone numbers from Ray. Wait a minute! Better than that, he has them all already, so he could do a mass emailing like he did for the 20th reunion, that didn’t happen.”

  “Great idea. Yeah, and then we can concentrate on the other stuff,” Kristen said.

  “Then let’s come up with a firm date,” Trudie said.

  They stopped, searching their calendars, as they pondered, whistled and concentrated. Minutes later, they’d decided on the second weekend in December.

  Trudie considered that, and then shook her head. “Christmas falls on Thursday, right? So I say, why don’t we do the show on Christmas Eve?”

  “What?” Kristen said. “No way. Everybody wants to be home for Christmas.”

  “She’s right, Trudie. I’ll want to be with my girls. My father’s going to my sister’s in Florida. We’re supposed to meet them.”

  “Okay, I know everyone won’t be able to make it, but some will. Some will like the change and some will love to escape from their families and come here and do the old Christmas show. Anyway, they can bring their families. We’ll make it a big Christmas party, with Mrs. Childs as the centerpiece. It will be different, and memorable. We’ll hire a photographer to take pictures and movies and then give them away. People will love it.”

  Kristen looked down at her newly manicured red nails. Mary Ann patted her waist, suddenly nervous that the 20 pounds she’d gained in the last year would make her a topic of whispery disapproval and criticism. Trudie twirled the ends of her hair, feeling the rise of anxiety at the thought of seeing many of her old classmates, especially Cole Blackwell and Jon Ketch. She was also becoming increasingly aware of the enormity of what she herself had proposed. Did she really want to do this?

  “Here’s what we do,” Kristen said. “We’ll have Ray send out the emails and ask how many would be willing to come for the Christmas Eve performance and party, and how many would prefer to come a week or so before, for the same performance.”

  “Sounds good,” Mary Ann said.

  Trudie took in a breath. “Okay. I’ll talk to Ray and get to work on the emails. Before we do anything else though, I need to talk to Mrs. Childs’ daughter to see if she thinks Mrs. Childs is strong enough for all this. If she says no, then the whole thing’s off. Also, we have to make sure it’s all kept quiet, a big secret. If Mrs. Childs finds out, it will spoil the surprise.”

  The girls agreed and then brainstormed additional ideas and possibilities. They laughed and reminisced, at times growing silent if the memory still had sting. As the possibility of seeing each other again became real, their enthusiasm and excitement took over, and they trampled over each other’s words until none could hear what the other was saying.

  After Mary Ann hung up, she went to her upstairs bedroom, found her high school yearbook on the top closet shelf and pulled it down. She bounced down on her bed and slowly leafed through it, drawn into memory and emotion.

  Twenty minutes later, the girls boiled into the house, laughing and calling for her at the foot of the stairs. Mary Ann was absorbed in the senior class portrait of Oscar Bonds. What had happened to him? They’d met once ten or so years ago at Christmas, before her father had moved from Deer Lake.

  She and Oscar had been lovers their senior year in high school. He was the first boy she’d had sex with. She’d told Trudie about it, but not Kristen. Kristen talked too much and was always giving unasked-for advice.

  Oscar was a shy boy, but intelligent and genuine, graduating as valedictorian of the class. His lanky, loose-jointed build; his gray eyes; his long, lantern-jawed face; his oddly languorous boyish charm, were all attractive and entertaining. He went to Purdue on a full academic scholarship, majoring in civil engineering. Last she’d heard, he was working in Chicago.

  Mary Ann closed the yearbook and lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She had truly cared for Oscar. Maybe she’d even loved him. She’d even imagined herself married to him and, in private moments, was sure he’d ask her to marry him. He was steady and dependable. He was kind. She’d liked the way he gently made love to her.

  She’d persuaded him to participate in the Christmas show. He’d built an elaborate set of Santa’s workshop and a faux fireplace, where Mrs. Claus, played by Mrs. Childs, sat knitting in a rocker, reciting ‘Twas the Night before Christmas. Everyone was impressed with his meticulous work and easy manner.

  Ten years ago, when they’d both come home for their Christmas visits, they’d met over coffee and sandwiches. Mary Ann had boldly asked him why they’d separated just a month after they’d graduated. She said she never knew what had really happened. She’d thought they were compatible lovers and good friends.

  Oscar had gained some weight and seemed more self-assured, but he was still quiet-spoken and though
tful. He shrugged. “I guess you confused me,” he’d said.

  “Confused you?” she’d asked, surprised. “How did I confuse you?”

  “I guess I thought you were too strange or something. You were always talking about things I didn’t understand. I guess it just made me feel kind of uncomfortable.”

  “What did I talk about?” Mary Ann had asked.

  “All that occult stuff about astrology and those tarot cards. That just confused me. I guess I thought we just wouldn’t be compatible.”

  Oscar had married a research scientist. Mary Ann didn’t know what kind of research she did, but she supposed they were compatible, even though Oscar said they didn’t have any children.

  Mary Ann shook her head, still feeling the pain of his words. Robert thought she was too far-out too. “Too 1960s spacey”, he’d said more than once. It was true, Robert thought she was a little quirky, but he’d always told her she made him laugh. They certainly weren’t laughing by the time of the divorce.

  “Mom!” Carly called. “I’m hungry. Let’s start dinner.”

  Mary Ann pushed up on her elbows and sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be right down.”

  She swung her legs to the floor and sat there, amazed that those 18-year-old emotions were still breathing and pacing about inside her gut, alive, as if it had all happened yesterday. Would Oscar and his wife come to the reunion?

  Mary Ann closed her eyes and silently repeated: Peace, contentment, tranquility.

  SIX

  On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, Ray Howard dropped by Trudie’s house, bringing a spreadsheet with the results of the Christmas reunion email. After ringing the bell, he let himself in, immediately noting the welcoming aromas of freshly baked cookies and percolating coffee. As he took off his coat, a smiling Trudie entered the living room, carrying a large platter of Christmas cookies she’d baked just that morning, her ‘first edition batch’ as she called them. She placed the platter on the coffee table and returned with two large Santa Claus mugs filled with coffee.

  Trudie and Ray sat on the couch, sipping coffee and munching Linzer heart cookies with raspberry jam, almond shortbread cookies, gingerbread men, and Christmas tree butter cookies with colorful sprinkles. Later on, she was going to tackle the berry tarts with lemon cookie crust.

  “These are fantastic!” Ray said, mumbling and chewing. “Are you going to eat them all yourself?”

  “Yeah, right, like I want to look like Santa on Christmas. I’m not going to gain back those 15 pounds I worked so hard to lose. You’ll take some home. I’ll take a few to the kids I tutor, and then the rest to the office. It’s become a holiday tradition. Dr. Preston would never forgive me if I didn’t bring in a big batch of Christmas cookies for everyone, especially him.”

  Ray looked at her, curiously. “Seems kind of strange, people eating cookies in a dentist’s office.”

  “No one has ever complained. By the way, isn’t it time for your six-month cleaning?”

  Ray frowned, mid-bite. “Yeah...And I think I have a cavity.”

  “Don’t put it off, Ray. You won’t get another set of teeth.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  “Oh, whatever. Let me see the printout.”

  Ray handed her two sheets of paper.

  “I emailed the same list to Mary Ann and Kristen, like you said.”

  Trudie quickly scanned the list, searching for specific names.

  Ray sipped coffee and chewed. He was 6’3”, about 40 pounds overweight, with heavy jowls and dark intense eyes that seemed to see everything. He projected a courtly manner, a blend of gentle respect and amused observation. His dark brown hair was balding on top.

  “Of the 196 graduating seniors on my mailing list,” he said, “63 have responded so far. Of the 63, 41 said they could come for the reunion if it were held on the weekend of December 17, 18, or 19, or Thursday through Saturday. Now listen to this. A total of 44 said they’d be willing to come for the Christmas Eve performance, and most want to participate in the show in some way or the other.”

  Trudie’s anxious gaze slid down the list to the YES column. There they were: Jon Ketch and Cole Blackwell. They were coming. Her eyes stared blankly. She felt a dull ache and dread. There were so many emotions shooting up from some buried place—shooting up like erratic geysers.

  Ray continued. “Of course, when it gets down to it, 15 or more in the YES column won’t show up. That’s the way it always is. There will be some emergency or they’ll just change their mind.”

  “Okay, but still, that’s a good number. And I’m assuming more will probably respond in the next few days?”

  Ray sipped his coffee and shrugged. “Some, but not many.”

  Trudie’s eyes rested on two names: Bonnie Styles and Herman Bevis. Beside their names Ray had typed DECEASED.

  Trudie looked at him in stunned surprise. “Bonnie is dead?”

  Ray nodded, sadly. “Yes. Her husband called me. He said she was killed in a boating accident on the Ohio River last summer. He kept her email box. He said when he got the email, he started crying. He sounded so bad, Trudie. I really felt for him.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Trudie said. “What happened to Herman?”

  “Heart attack while jogging in Knoxville, also a little over a year ago. He was the pastor at a Baptist church down there. You remember, he always was into his church and the Bible.”

  Trudie took in a breath. “Bonnie stage-managed the Christmas show our junior year, remember?”

  Ray scratched his nose, lifting an eyebrow. “Oh yeah. She was so nice and easy. And then our senior year, Liz Tyree showed up. She was a terror. She even told me my piano playing was all wrong. When I asked her what wrong meant, she said ‘You’re just pounding too much.’”

  Trudie lowered her head and laughed a little. “She was good, though. There were no technical mistakes during the show, not one. Liz Tyree is detail-minded and she demanded perfection.”

  “Well, she’s on the list,” Ray said, pointing at her name. “She’s coming. She lives in Lexington, Kentucky.”

  Trudie shook her head. “I hope she won’t ask to stage manage.”

  “Of course she will,” Ray said. “You know she will. That’s probably why she’s coming.”

  Trudie shut her eyes and shook her head. “And so it all begins. The fights, the arguments, the craziness and the headaches.”

  “Speaking of beginning. Did you call Mrs. Childs’ daughter?”

  “Yes. She was excited by the idea. She said her mother would love to see the show again, even though she might act otherwise. But we all know that.”

  Ray cleared his throat, a Linzer cookie poised at his lips. “Do you think Mrs. Childs will be up and around by then?”

  Trudie opened her eyes, staring beyond him, thinking. “Well ... If worst comes to worst, you, me, Kristen and Mary Ann will go to the house and perform the show. One way or the other, Mrs. Childs gets a Christmas show. How are your piano skills?”

  “I may teach English, but I still play every Sunday at the Methodist church. Not that you know that, since I never see you there, Ms. Parks.”

  Trudie wrinkled up her nose. “I’ll be there for the Christmas service, Ray. Did you keep any music from the old Christmas shows?”

  His head slipped to one side, offended she asked. “You know I’m a pack rat. I still have my boy scout uniform, my first GI Joe—let’s not go there on that one—and, yes, I still have the entire score—the complete score—of the senior class Christmas show from 20 years ago, including orchestral parts and conductor’s notes, all packed neatly away in a trunk in my attic.”

  Trudie looked at him, admirably. “You are a wonderful piece of work, Raymond Howard.”

  He batted his eyes, playfully. “Yes, I am. And you should see the attic. My mother has threatened to throw me out of the house unless I throw out some of that glorious junk.” He shook his head in mock despair. “Alas, I can’t seem to part with any of it. I even have the firs
t piano piece I played at a recital, and the first love letter I received.”

  “And who was that from?” Trudie asked, riveted.

  Ray paused. “Are you ready for this? It was from our good friend, Kristen.”

  “Kristen!?”

  Ray nodded. “Yep. The 7th grade. Kristen was a little vixen even then. You know she always liked the tall guys. Of course she didn’t know I was gay, and I’m not sure I did either. Kristen still may not know I’m gay.”

  Trudie gave him a knowing stare. “Ray... believe me, at this point she knows you’re gay. She doesn’t care. But we’re getting off track here. When are you going to speak to the school board about us using the auditorium for the show?”

  “First thing Monday morning.”

  “Do you foresee a problem?”

  “There’s one snotty little bi... witch, Marjorie Lyons. She’s the new principal and she thinks she owns the school. She’s like a little general. She’s only five foot one and I swear you’d think she was six foot five the way she marches around barking at people. I’m not sure she likes me very much. My students’ test scores are down and she makes an ugly face every time she passes me in the hallway. I’m killing myself trying to get these kids to read so their reading levels go up, but they just don’t want to read. It’s all video games and texting—misspelled words.”

  Trudie stood up. “Ray, we need that auditorium. We can’t move ahead unless we know we can perform there.”

  “I know, I know. I’ll tackle it on Monday.”

  “Tell your principal it’s for a good cause. Tell her why we’re doing this. We’re doing it for Mrs. Childs and all the alumni out there in the community. How can she object to that?”

  Ray shrugged, reaching for another cookie. “It will cost us.”

  “Okay, fine. Find out how much and let me know as soon as possible. For now, Kristen’s working on a budget, but we’ll probably hand it over to Connie in a week or two. We don’t have much time.”

  At the front door, Trudie tied Ray’s burgundy scarf about his neck and then handed him a tin box filled with cookies. Ray grew reflective. “It’s funny, isn’t it? All this reunion business just stirs up old thoughts and memories. I had the weirdest dreams last night, about things and people I hadn’t thought about in years. And guess who was right in the middle of everything, barking orders?”