Trading Christmas: When Christmas Comes / The Forgetful Bride. Debbie Macomber

Twenty-Five

       Chapter Twenty-Six

       Chapter Twenty-Seven

       Epilogue

      One

      “What do you mean you won’t be home for Christmas?” Emily Springer was sure she couldn’thave heard correctly. She pressed the telephone receiver harder against her ear, as though that would clarify her daughter’s words.

       “Mom, I know you’re disappointed… .”

       That didn’t even begin to cover it. Emily had scraped and sacrificed in order to save airfare home for her only daughter, a student at Harvard. They always spent the holidays together, and now Heather was telling her she wouldn’t be back for Christmas.

       “What could possibly be more important than Christmas with your family?” Emily asked, struggling to hide her distress.

       Her daughter hesitated. “It’s just that I’ve got so much going on during those two weeks. I’d love to be home with you, I really would, but…I can’t.”

       Emily swallowed past the lump in her throat. Heather was twenty-one; Emily realized her daughter was becoming an independent adult, but for the last eleven years it had been just the two of them. The thought of being separated from her only child over Christmas brought tears to her eyes.

       “You’ve got all the neighbor kids to spoil,” Heather continued.

       Yes, the six Kennedy children would be more than happy to gobble up Emily’s homemade cookies, candies and other traditional holiday treats. But it wouldn’t be the same.

       “I was home a few months ago,” Heather reminded her next.

       Emily opened her mouth to argue. True, her daughter had spent the summer in Leavenworth, but she’d been busy working and saving money for school. If she wasn’t at her library job, she was with her friends. Emily knew that Heather had her own life now, her own friends, her own priorities and plans. That was to be expected and natural, and Emily told herself she should be proud. But spending Christmas on opposite sides of the country was simply too hard—especially for the two of them, who’d once been so close.

       “What about the money I saved for your airfare?” Emily asked lamely, as if that would change anything.

       “I’ll fly out for Easter, Mom. I’ll use it then.”

       Easter was months away, and Emily didn’t know if she could last that long. This was dreadful. Three weeks before Christmas, and she’d lost every shred of holiday spirit.

       “I have to hang up now, Mom.”

       “I know, but…can’t we talk about this? I mean, there’s got to be a way for us to be together.”

       Heather hesitated once more. “You’ll be fine without me.”

       “Of course I will,” Emily said, dredging up the remnants of her pride. The last thing she wanted was to look pathetic to her daughter—or to heap on the guilt—so she spoke with an enthusiasm she didn’t feel. Disappointment pounded through her with every beat of her heart. She had to remember she wasn’t the only one who’d be alone, though. Heather would be missing out, too. “What about you?” Emily asked. Caught up in her own distress, she hadn’t been thinking about her daughter’s feelings. “Will you be all alone?”

       “For Christmas, you mean?” Heather said. Her voice fell slightly, and it sounded as if she too was putting on a brave front. “I have friends here, and I’ll probably get together with them—but it won’t be the same.”

       That had been Emily’s reaction: It won’t be the same. This Christmas marked the beginning of a new stage in their relationship. It was inevitable—but Christmas was still Christmas, and she vowed that wherever Heather was in future years, they’d spend the holiday together. Emily squared her shoulders. “We’ll make it through this,” she said stoutly.

       “Of course we will.”

       “I’ll be in touch soon,” Emily promised.

       “I knew you’d be a trouper about this, Mom.”

       Heather actually seemed proud of her, but Emily was no heroine. After a brief farewell, she placed the portable phone back in the charger and slumped into the closest chair.

       Moping around, Emily tried to fight off a sense of depression that had begun to descend. She couldn’t concentrate on anything, too restless to read or watch TV. The house felt…bleak. Uncharacteristically so. Maybe because she hadn’t put up the Christmas decorations, knowing how much Heather loved helping her.

       They had their own traditions. Heather always decorated the fireplace mantel, starting with her favorite piece, a small almost-antique angel that had belonged to Emily’s mother. While she did that, Emily worked on the windowsills around the dining room, arranging garlands, candles and poinsettias. Then together, using the ornaments Emily had collected over the years, they’d decorate the Christmas tree. Not an artificial one, either, despite warnings that they were safer than fresh trees.

       It sometimes took them half a day to choose their Christmas tree. Leavenworth was a small Washington town tucked in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, and it offered a stunning array of firs and pines.

       This year, without Heather, there would be no tree. Emily wouldn’t bother. Really, why go to that much effort when she’d be the only one there to enjoy it. Why decorate the house at all?

       This Christmas was destined to be her worst since Peter had died. Her husband had been killed in a logging accident eleven years earlier. Before his death, her life had been idyllic—exactly what she’d wanted it to be. They’d been high-school sweethearts and married the summer after graduation. From the start, their marriage was close and companionable. A year later Heather had arrived. Peter had supported Emily’s efforts to obtain her teaching degree and they’d postponed adding to their family. The three of them had been contented, happy with their little household—and then, overnight, her entire world had collapsed.

       Peter’s life insurance had paid for the funeral and allowed her to deal with the financial chaos. Emily had invested the funds wisely; she’d also continued with her job as a kindergarten teacher. She and Heather were as close as a mother and daughter could be. In her heart, Emily knew Peter would have been so proud of Heather.

       The scholarship to Harvard was well deserved but it wasn’t enough to meet all of Heather’s expenses. Emily periodically cashed in some of her investments to pay her daughter’s living costs—her dorm room, her transportation, her textbooks and entertainment. Emily lived frugally, and her one and only extravagance was Christmas. For the last two years, they’d somehow managed to be together even though Heather had moved to Boston. Now this…

       Still overwhelmed by her disappointment, Emily wandered into the study and stared at the blank computer screen. Her friend Faith would understand how she felt. Faith would give her the sympathy she needed. They communicated frequently via email. Although Faith was ten years younger, they’d become good friends. They were both teachers; Faith had done her student teaching in Leavenworth and they’d stayed in touch.

       Faith—braver than Emily—taught junior-high literature. Emily cringed at the thought of not only facing a hundred thirteen-year-olds every school day but trying to interest them in things like poetry. Divorced for the past five years, Faith lived in the Oakland Bay area of San Francisco.

       This news about Heather’s change in plans couldn’t be delivered by email, Emily decided. She needed immediate comfort. She needed Faith to assure her that she could get through the holidays by herself.

       She reached for the phone and hit speed dial for Faith’s number. Her one hope was that Faith would be