Debbie Macomber - Trading Christmas - When Christmas Comes / The Forgetful Bride

“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 home on a Sunday afternoon—and to Emily’s relief, Faith snatched up the receiver after the second ring.

“Hi! It’s Emily,” she said, doing her best to sound cheerful.

“What’s wrong?”

How well Faith knew her. In a flood of emotion, Emily spilled out everything Heather had told her.

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Faith announced as if it were a foregone conclusion.

“Well, she has mentioned a boy named Ben a few times, but the relationship doesn’t sound serious.”

“Don’t you believe it!”

Faith tended to be something of a cynic, especially when it came to relationships. Emily didn’t blame her; Faith had married her college boyfriend and stayed in the marriage for five miserable years. She’d moved to Leavenworth shortly after her divorce. Her connection with Emily had been forged during a time of loneliness, and they’d each found solace in their friendship.

“I’m sure Heather would tell me if this had to do with a man in her life,” Emily said fretfully, “but she didn’t say one word. It’s school and work and all the pressures. I understand, or at least I’m trying to, but I feel so…so cheated.”

“Those are just excuses. Trust me, there’s a man involved.”

Not wanting to accept it but unwilling to argue the point, Emily sighed deeply. “Boyfriend or not,” she muttered, “I’ll be alone over the holidays. How can I possibly celebrate Christmas by myself?”

Faith laughed—which Emily didn’t consider very sympathetic. “All you have to do is look out your front window.”

That was true enough. Leavenworth was about as close to Santa’s village as any place could get. The entire town entered the Christmas spirit. Tourists from all over the country visited the small community, originally founded by immigrants from Germany, and marveled at its festive atmosphere. Every year there were train rides and Christmas-tree-lighting ceremonies, three in all, plus winter sports and sleigh rides and Christmas parades and more.

Emily’s home was sixty years old and one block from the heart of downtown. The city park was across the street. Starting in early December, groups of carolers strolled through the neighborhood dressed in old-fashioned regalia. With the horse-drawn sleigh, and groups of men and women in greatcoats and long dresses gathered under streetlamps, the town looked like a Currier & Ives print.

“Everyone else can be in the holiday spirit, but I won’t—not without Heather,” Emily said. “I’m not even going to put up a tree.”

“You don’t mean that,” Faith told her bracingly.

“I do so,” Emily insisted. She couldn’t imagine anything that would salvage Christmas for her.

“What you need is a shot of holiday cheer. Watch Miracle on 34th Street or—”

“It won’t help,” Emily cried. “Nothing will.”

“Emily, this doesn’t sound like you. Besides,” Faith said, “Heather’s twenty-one. She’s creating her own life, and that’s completely appropriate. So she can’t make it this year—you’ll have next Christmas with her.”

Emily didn’t respond. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You need your own life, too,” Faith added. “I’ve been after you for years to join the church singles group.”