In early December, the supermarket began playing the same songs that had filled the aisles the previous year.
I stood beside a display of pecans and felt a familiar ache.
I had not decided what I wanted for Christmas.
Ruth offered to host me.
Judith invited me to a potluck near the cabin.
Ryan sent a careful email asking whether we might have lunch together before the holiday.
He did not assume he could come to my house.
That was new.
I answered that I would meet him at a restaurant the following week.
We sat at a table near the window.
He arrived early and waited until I was seated to order.
We talked about his work.
He had taken a salaried position with a smaller remodeling firm and stepped away from speculative investments.
The pay was lower.
The hours were predictable.
He said the change had been difficult but necessary.
I asked how things were with Megan.
“We're still working on it,” he said.
Then he set down his fork.
“I've been thinking about last Christmas.”
I kept my hands around my mug.
“I knew you were waiting,” he said.
“I saw your messages about the ham. I didn't want to disappoint Megan's mother, so I let you be the one who was disappointed.”
I looked at him.
“That is what happened.”
“I should have called.”
“Yes.”
“And when I found out you were upset, I tried to get you talking about Dad's paperwork instead.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I was still thinking about money.”
“I know.”
“I wish I could go back.”
“You can't.”
He nodded.
Then he asked if I would ever be comfortable with him visiting the cabin.
“Not yet,” I said.
He accepted the answer without arguing.
We finished lunch talking about the weather and a ridiculous television show Daniel used to watch.
When we stood to leave, Ryan hugged me lightly.
I hugged him back.
The contact was brief.
I was glad it happened.
I was also glad we had not made promises.
On Christmas morning, I woke at the cabin to soft snow falling outside the bedroom window.
Ruth arrived just before noon.
Judith came with bread and homemade jam.
Two women from the walking group brought a casserole and a plate of cookies.
We had five chairs around Daniel's old kitchen table.
No matching sweaters.
No formal centerpiece.
I made ham, green beans, and mashed potatoes.
The pecan pie cooled on the counter.
I wore the red dress with the pearl buttons.
Ruth noticed immediately.
“Look at you.”
“I decided it deserved a happier day.”
We ate slowly.
One friend told a story about a neighbor's escaped goats.
Judith laughed so hard she had to put down her fork.
I thought about Daniel carving the ham, his sleeves rolled past his wrists.
I missed him.
The missing did not ruin the afternoon.
After dessert, I stepped onto the porch.
A message from Ryan waited on my phone.
Merry Christmas, Mom. I hope you have a good day. No need to answer now.
I read it twice.
Then I typed back.
Merry Christmas, Ryan. I am having a good day. I hope you are too.
I put the phone away before anyone came looking for me.
Inside, Ruth was washing dishes while Judith wrapped leftovers.
The kitchen was full of conversation.
I had spent the previous Christmas asking why my son had not chosen me.
This year, I had chosen to open my door to people who wanted to be there.
I carried the last pie plate to the sink.
“Put that down,” Ruth said.
“You cooked.”
I obeyed.
It felt wonderful to let somebody else do the washing up.
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: The Last Signature Was My Own And The Life Ahead Of Me Was Finally Mine
The Christmas Dinner I Prepared For Three Ended With A Courier At My Door
Part 15 of 16
