Maggie Shayne: An Enchanted Season

The man in the overalls picked up the boxes, as instructed. He knew the situation. It was no surprise that the lady of the house wasn’t at home. Looked like a nice family. It was too bad, it really was. He left the check, safe in its sealed envelope, stuck through the crack in the door, then carried the final armload to the truck. Just as he shoved it into the back, with the others, the hat fell out. It rolled past his feet in a most unusual way. He went after it, but it kept rolling, and then just as he bent to snap it up, a big gust of wind came out of nowhere, and scooped it up. It was carried away, over a house’s roof and out of sight.

The man in the overalls rolled his eyes. Hell, an old worn-out hat like that wouldn’t have brought much anyway. He returned to the truck, pulled the door closed, and secured the latch. Then he drove back to the secondhand shop with the dead man’s clothes.

November 1992, Flint, Michigan

“YOU SOLD IT ? ALL OF IT?”

Matthew stared up at his mother in blatant disbelief. Wasn’t it bad enough that Dad had to die the day before Thanksgiving? That they had to bury him the day after? That their big meal on the day in between had consisted of deli meat, rolls, and about six casseroles brought over by neighbors and relatives?

She had to go and sell his stuff, too?

His mother blinked down at him. She seemed kind of in a daze, not all there, mostly numb. It seemed to him she could hear just fine, but what she heard wasn’t making its way to her brain.

“I had to, Matt. The money situation isn’t…it isn’t good.”

Yeah, he’d picked up on that much. He was twelve, not two. And he resented that his mother didn’t seem to think he could understand things. He did understand. He heard and saw and understood. Dad had died broke. He’d racked up debts that Matt’s mom hadn’t even known about. There was no money. There were payments due. And the funeral had cost a bundle. He got all that.

“I know the money situation isn’t good, Mom. And I could see selling the guns, the tools, the computer. But geeze, Mom, his clothes ?”

“It was either sell them or give them away. And we need every penny right now. Christmas is coming.”

And that was Mom. She wasn’t worried about bills or taxes or losing the house or the car or even paying for the funeral. She was worried because Christmas was coming.

“We don’t need Christmas this year,” he told her. “We’re not gonna feel like celebrating anyway.”

“Oh, you’re so wrong, Matt. We need Christmas this year more than ever.”

He rolled his eyes, but thought about his kid sister, Cindy. She was only six, and yeah, she probably did need Christmas. But he didn’t.

“There must be something you want for Christmas, Matt,” his mother pressed on. “One gift. One special gift that could make this time a little bit easier for you. There is something, isn’t there? Tell me.”

He pursed his lips, cleared his throat because he didn’t want her to hear his grief in his voice. He was fine. But…

“Yeah, there is something. Or was. Dad’s hat.”

“His hat?” She blinked, still blank, but a little less so. “That silly felt fedora he was always wearing?”

Matt nodded. “He used to joke about that hat being my inheritance. Anytime we were doing anything fun, he would be wearing it. Don’t you remember? It was like—I don’t know, it was like his trademark, that stupid hat. It meant a lot to him. Remember how he wrote his initials in it in permanent purple marker when we went on vacation, just it case it got lost?” He paused there, remembering the road trip, the theme park, the fun. And that hat, at the center of it all. “I want Dad’s hat, Mom. It’s a part of him.”

His mother’s dull, numb expression changed then. It changed right before his eyes. Her face crumpled, and a rush of tears flooded her eyes and splashed onto her cheeks, and then she lowered her head into her hands. “I’m sorry, baby. I…it went with all the other stuff. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He sighed, wanted to be furious, but he couldn’t stand to see her crying like that. Her shoulders were quaking.

“How am I going to do this?” she moaned. “I’m screwing everything up already and he’s only been gone two weeks. How am I going to do this by myself?”

Matt licked his lips, reached out, and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom. It’s just a hat.”

“I’ll try to get it back,” she said. “It all went to a used clothing store, downtown. I can probably still find it.”

“Just don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” she cried. “Matt, I’m so sorry. I thought I could use the money to get you something nice for Christmas.”

If he had to pick the moment when he’d decided to hate Christmas forever, that would probably be the closest Matthew could come. That moment, right then. Matt hated Christmas. He hated the entire holiday season. It had taken his father away from him, and then it had doubled the blow by taking the only thing of his dad’s that he’d really wanted. And yeah, it was just a stupid old hat. But it was his dad’s stupid old hat.

He hated Christmas. And he vowed that day, that he would always hate Christmas.

November 1992, Oswego, New York

Holly opened her eyes, and saw that she was in a place that was all white. Sunbeams spilled through the window like liquid gold, and angels stood all around her.

But they were not angels. There had been angels, only moments ago. That much, she knew. As she blinked her vision clear, the blurry shapes she’d mistaken as wings faded, and the men and women in white took on ordinary forms. The room really had been filled with angels. She only stopped being able to see them when she woke fully. But she thought they were still there.

A nurse was writing on a chart. Someone warm was holding her hand, and Holly looked up to see her Aunt Sheila sitting there in a chair beside her hospital bed. She looked like she’d been there awhile. Her hair was messy and her eyes red and puffy. She was staring down at Holly’s hand as if she wasn’t really seeing it.

Holly looked all around the room, and realized that what she’d been dreaming hadn’t been a dream at all. “Aunt Sheila?” she said, surprised that her words came out in a dull croak.

The nurses in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to stare. Aunt Sheila’s head came up, eyes met hers, and then filled.

“Baby,” she said. “You’re awake.” She shot a look at the nearest nurse, who hurried out of the room muttering that she would get the doctor.

But Holly clutched her aunt’s hand harder, and held her eyes firm this time. “Mom and Dad…and Noelle? They’re dead, aren’t they?”

Sheila didn’t say anything. Instead she gathered Holly into her arms, and held her hard. She held her tight. Holly tried to be brave like her mom had asked her to, but she couldn’t stop herself from bursting into tears. And in a second Aunt Sheila was sobbing, too.

They held each other and cried for a long time. They cried until they just about couldn’t cry anymore. And then finally, Holly sat up in her bed, and wiped at her eyes. “You all thought I was going to die, too, right?” Holly said.

Aunt Sheila blinked her red eyes dry. “What makes you think that?”