Ta-da! The finale! Will they or won't they? Has Lydia's holiday luck run out? Seriously, those two monstrous boys are capable of anything...
The Christmas Miracle of Lydia Perkins
Part 3
The boys were glued to The Grinch, giving Lydia exactly 104
minutes of semi-uninterrupted Me-Time. Typically those precious moments were
spent cleaning, cooking, and caring for their home. Today Lydia was determined to
spend them all on girlie primping. Locking the bathroom door to deter
intruders, she proceeded to scrub every bit of her skin with perfumed
soap and let the warm water rinse away the mommy stink. Today she would be a
real girl, not the mommy-being with food stains on her clothes and her pockets
full of Legos, miniature cars, and snot rags.
She stepped into her closet,
passing the piles of pajama pants and cozy T-shirts she preferred to the items
in the back. She located a red sequined top with cap sleeves and a swooping
neckline. She slipped it on, pleased to note that the fabric didn’t cling
uncomfortably, but still accentuated her curves. Now for the pants. Happily, she had never succumbed to the universally
unflattering mother jeans (those light-colored, high-waisted jeans
that made everyone’s behind look enormous). Please
let them fit! she mentally pleaded as she pulled on some wide-leg,
dark-wash jeans with embellished back pockets.They were a bit snug, but still fit. Reaching past the endless line of Sketchers
and fluffy slippers, she found a pair of sassy black boots with slim heels and
slid them on. Glancing in the mirror,
she was gratified to see the leggy woman she remembered staring back
at her. Perhaps she'd hadn't had all the accompanying jiggly bits, but a
girl couldn’t have everything.
Stepping back into the
bathroom, she blow-dried her hair and popped in hot rollers. Carefully, she applied make-up, reaching for
the seldom used eye-shadow, blush, and lip gloss in addition to the customary mascara
she wore. She removed the rollers and tousled the auburn curls before pinning up the front and pulling a few out to spill around her face. Dangly cut-glass earrings
completed the look. Finally finished,
she gazed at her reflection. A real woman stared back at her, someone
unconcerned with the worries of paying the bills, living on a budget, or foregoing
fun in favor of providing for two unruly boys. She smiled at her gray-eyed
reflection, glad to see that woman after so many years.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Apparently her 104 minutes were at an end. Sighing,
she opened the door to ensure her offspring hadn’t maimed one another.
Mason arrived promptly at
six. Lydia had rushed the boys through dinner and bundled them into warm coats and hats just in time. Though
it had been unseasonably warm lately, the wind had picked up, resulting in a
nasty chill in the air. Lydia reached for her long black coat and topped it
with a bright red scarf, as she greeted him with a smile.
The boys were jumping around as
usual, vying for Mason’s attention. He smiled down at them, asking about what
they’d done that day.
“We got to watch The Grinch!”
“And we got you a present!”
They attempted to run one
another over racing to the tree to retrieve the package.
“Thank you,” Mason said,
inspecting the oddly wrapped gift, held together with too much tape.
“We wrapped it ourselves!” they
exclaimed in unison. His eyes twinkled as he met Lydia’s gaze. Lydia just
shrugged and smiled.
“Should I open it?” Mason
asked.
He was answered with a chorus
of yeses and Jimmy blurting out, “You need it for tonight! It’s a…” before Tommy smacked a hand over his
mouth to muffle the last word.
Mason ignored the ensuing
scuffle and worked past the first layer of Scotch tape. The boys finally paused
in the middle of their melee to watch Mason pull out a khaki green and blue checked
scarf. “Thank you, boys,” he said as he
wrapped it around his neck. “It’s perfect for tonight.” The boys pelted him
with hugs as he patted them on the back.
When he disentangled himself,
he turned to Lydia, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek and whisper, “Thank you,”
in her ear, and, “By the way, you look gorgeous.” Lydia, slightly flustered by
the nearness of him, had her wits about her enough to notice that the scarf
brought out the green in his eyes. She had thought they were hazel before, but
no, they were that bold green she’d only seen a couple of times in her life.
“Ready?” Mason asked them all.
The boys shrieked in delight, running to the kitchen for the wrapped goody
plates, Lydia hollering after them to be careful.
“We can take my truck,” Mason
offered as they made their way out the door. “It’s all warmed up.”
Lydia glanced at the sleek
silver truck parked by the curb, “Are you sure?” she asked. “They’re likely to
get something on the seats. You can never tell what exactly, but it’s sure to
be sticky.”
Mason grinned as he lifted the
boys into the back seat. “It’ll be fine,” he assured her.
After the boys were safely
buckled in, he opened the door for Lydia. She’d just been wondering how she’d
could get into a truck in high-heeled boots when she felt his hand settle
reassuringly on the small of her back. Gratefully, she stepped up and with a boost from Mason was soon tucked safely into the cab.
The evening passed in a series
of stops at neighbors’ homes, each consisting of the delivery of goodies (the
boys arguing over whose turn it was to carry them), an exuberant rendition of Rudolph or Jingle Bells (more arguing about which to sing), the swapping of
holiday well-wishes with the neighbors, and belted out versions of We Wish You a Merry Christmas as they
made their way back to the warm truck. Lydia tried to ignore the interested
looks with which her neighbors greeted Mason. She should have expected it, she
supposed. They all knew her situation, and to show up unannounced with an
attractive man in tow was asking for the gossip mill to begin grinding. She knew there
would be countless inquiries about him later, but for now she tried to enjoy
the novelty of spending Christmas Eve with someone pleasant. Having someone
beside her as she carted the boys around the neighborhood, cheerfully joining in
on the singing, and taking every opportunity to put his arm around her
shoulders or waist when they weren’t separated by small wiggly bodies, was
extremely pleasant. It almost felt like a date. Albeit a mommy date with two
rambunctious boys as chaperons.
They delivered the last of the
treats, sang a final Jingle Bells (Lydia
thought she could go a whole year without hearing it again), and piled back
into the truck.
When they reached the house, Mason
helped her out of the truck as he had done all night, insisting on opening her
door and offering her his hand. She took it and kept her fingers wrapped around
his even after she was safely on the ground. She smiled up into his green eyes
and said, “Thank you for coming. It’s been a lovely evening.”
“My pleasure,” he said, smiling
back at her as they walked to the porch hand-in-hand.
“Would you like to come in?”
she asked when they reached the door.
“I’d love to, but I should
probably go. I’ve got a bit of last minute shopping to do.”
She was about to say it was all
right, that he’s already spent the better part of Christmas Eve with them, when
a tussle from inside drew her attention. The boys had raced past them into the
house, and as usual, were already fighting over something. She slipped past
Mason to intervene before someone got hurt. She placed a hand on each boy’s
shoulder, quickly separating them. They were still glaring at one
another, when Jimmy--with his customary inability to focus on anything long enough
to remain upset--looked up and said, “Look, Mommy, mistletoe!”
It had been Tommy who had
insisted on the mistletoe. Lydia hadn’t hung it up for years, wondering what
use they’d get out of it. But Tommy had heard about it in school, and when he’d
found the sprig nestled in the bottom of one of the Christmas bins, had pleaded
for her to pin it up. Since then, the
boys had been fascinated by it, stopping underneath it periodically and refusing
to move until they were soundly smooched.
It was really kind of adorable.
“What’s going on?” Mason said,
as he stepped up behind them.
“Oh,” Lydia said, pointing
toward the greenery hanging above them, “Mistletoe.” With that, she grabbed one
boy with each arm, loudly kissing them on the cheeks while Mason chuckled. The giggling
boys returned her kisses tenfold, covering her face with smacky smooches.
“Can we open a present?” Tommy
asked, shining-eyed, as Jimmy jumped up and down in anticipation.
“Just one,” she said, as they
scampered off to the tree. “A little one!” she called after them. Mason
remained by her side, watching the boys rattle the packages in search
of the perfect one.
It was Jimmy who looked up,
smiled his disarming missing-teeth smile and called out once again, “Mommy! Mistletoe!”
She and Mason both looked up to
see the mistletoe hanging above them. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” the boys chanted while
Lydia's cheeks burned.
Mason’s eyes crinkled at the
corners as a cockeyed grin lit his face. “Let’s show them how this is done,” he
said. Something snagged at the edge of Lydia’s memory, but she was unable to
catch it as he deftly dipped her and covered her mouth with his. Her dream
blossomed in her mind, and just as she had done then, she deepened the
kiss. Sweet and passionate all at once, and
just as had happened in her dream, she felt reality fall away until only the
two of them remained, locked in one another’s arms.
“J.M…” she murmured against his
lips, amazed that she’d even remembered the name of the boy she’d shared the
stage with so long ago, and then instantly mortified that she should utter it
while kissing another man. Her eyes fluttered open to see two wide green eyes
staring down at her. He lifted her to her feet. Flustered, she said quickly,
“Oh, I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean…”
She expected him to be angry. She didn’t
expect him to say, “No one’s called me that for a long time.”
“What?”
“I said no one’s called me that
in a long time. Since high school at least.”
Lydia braced herself against
the wall, trying to keep her knees from buckling as everything clicked into
place. The green eyes, the hair, darkened to a deep blonde, and that smile. She
knew she’d recognized it. “You?” she asked, incredulous.
“I thought you remembered,” he
said. “I certainly did, the first time you came to your door. I wondered why
I’d been such an idiot to let you slip through my fingers all those years ago. Life
just gives you another chance sometimes, I guess.” He smiled at her, reaching
to brush an errant curl out of her eyes.
Still shocked, Lydia could only
stare back at him.
At this point the boys rushed
over, oblivious of what they were interrupting, and begged Mason to come look
at their gifts. They grabbed his hands and pulled him toward the couch. Mason
tossed an amused grin over his shoulder as he allowed himself to be dragged
off.
Lydia leaned against the wall, taking
in the scene. Her boys were scrambling excitedly onto Mason’s lap to show him
their newly opened toys, and Mason was looking on with just as much youthful excitement
in his eyes. The lines between past and present blurred for a moment. The tangy
aroma of pine heavy in the air, mingled with the ever-present holiday spices,
bringing to mind Christmases from long ago layered with recent holidays with
the boys. From outside she heard the faint tinkling of far off bells, reminding
her of yesteryear's sleigh rides and today's exuberant Jingle Bells renditions. Above her hung the sprig of mistletoe, as it always
had in her childhood home, a bright spot of color in the middle of winter.
The
joy and hope of Christmas, something she thought she would never feel again,
entered her heart. It was the reason she labored so hard this time of
year, to try to recapture the peace and joy of the season. And as Mason glanced
over his shoulder at her, his face alight with a happiness so familiar and yet
so new, she knew that something precious had been restored to her.
It was her own little Christmas
miracle.
* * *
Thanks so much for reading! I really enjoyed crafting this story and I'd love to hear with you think. Leave me a comment!
Here are the earlier posts of The Christmas Miracle of Lydia Perkins: Part I, Part II. Happy holidays, my dears. May all you wishes come true...or at least you get to sleep in and watch Netflix once.
