The Christmas Sweater

I’m glad you’re still with me for this final scene of my Christmas short story, The Christmas Sweater. Read on and enjoy!

 

Chapter Three—Scene Eight(1425 w)

I called Debbie’s house after lunch and she answered the phone.

“It’s Jeannie. How are you?”

“Hey, girl,” she said in a ‘trying to be cheery’ voice. “Sorry I missed our walk this morning. I was really tired.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said. “Are you feeling a bit better now?”

“Yup. Come on over.”

I could tell when I saw her that she’d tried to fix herself up, but she couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes, or the lack of sparkle in her usually bubbly personality.

“Debbie, you’re going to be okay. I know it. Just trust that God has it all under control.”

“Whoa! No elephants allowed in this room. Way to get right to the point, sister.”

I smiled and shook my head, glancing up at the ceiling. “I’ve lived with elephants too long. I’m done with denial. Facing the problem is half the battle, right?”

She heaved a huge sigh and I wanted to bite back my words.

“I know you’re right,” she said, “but memories of the treatments from last time keep me from fully agreeing with you. It wasn’t fun.”

I used my head for once and kept my mouth shut. This was her time, not mine.

She glanced around to make sure Mickey wasn’t there and said, “Sometimes I wonder if I should forget about treatment and just enjoy whatever time I have.” She met my eyes. “It’s overwhelming when you know what’s coming…Oh, sorry. I promised you tea and here I am whining.”

Before she could pull herself to her feet, I jumped up. “If you can make tea in my house, I can make it in yours.”

She sighed again. “Upper cabinet beside the fridge.”

“Hey,” I said, “you have a 1-cup coffeemaker. Want me to make you a coffee instead?”

“I’d love that,” she said, and her face was as close to a smile as I’d seen that day.

“Coffee it is,” I said, hunting around in her cabinets until I found her stash of Dark Roast pop-ins. “Think I’ll have some too.”

That made her swivel around in her chair. “You? Coffee? Wonders never cease. By the way, how’s the packing coming?”

“Packing?” I needed time to figure out how to tell her.

“Yeah, packing. You’re going to Paris in a week or so. Paris, France, remember?”

I carried our cups to the table, along with a box of cookies I’d found on the counter, and sat beside her, avoiding her eyes. “I’m not going.”

“You’re not…” She pointed her finger at me before she even took a sip of her coffee. “Now you listen to me. You’ve been doing so well with all this, you’re finally looking forward to something. I’ve seen it in your eyes. Why on earth are you thinking of backing out now?”

My turn to do the Debbie thing. I pointed right back at her. “Now you listen. You’ve been there for me since you moved in, prodding me to pull myself together and start living for real. And look what you’ve accomplished.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she interrupted. “You and God did.”

“Don’t get picky. What I’m saying is that now it’s my turn to be here for you. I’m not taking off on the trip across the pond to leave you here with your fears and worries.”

She snorted and leaned back in her chair. “Well if that doesn’t beat all.” Then she glared at me with those big dark eyes that had rediscovered a definite twinkle. “I’m not dead yet. I may not even be dying. I haven’t even had the tests. Could be I just caught a virus or something.”

She sat forward again. “I promise that if I have to, I will singlehandedly drag you onto the plane. Do you hear me? And remember, you have a daughter who needs you.”

I stared at her, indecision dancing in my brain. If I canceled my trip, I would leave Emily on her own. What kind of Christmas would that be for her? She was now depending on me to share this time with her. On the other hand, Debbie needed me too.

“Good,” she said. “At least you’re starting to think. I’ll let you finish your coffee and then you get back home and finish packing. Mickey and I are taking you to the airport next Tuesday and you’d better be ready.”

A slow smile spread over my face. She was right, of course. I couldn’t do much for her right now except listen and pray, and she’d never forgive herself if I stayed home because of her.

“But when I come back,” I began…

“When you come back, we’ll talk about it. Until then, don’t worry. We’ll do coffee every day I’m not up to walking. And I’ll let you know what the doc says as soon as we know.”

I had to say it. “But what about Christmas? This is the first year you and Mickey are away from your family. It’s going to be lonely.”

“Forget about it,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “We want to make the season special for my folks so we’ll be spending most of our time there. And,” she emphasized the word, “Mike Jr. and Sally are flying out for New Years. You’ll even get to meet them.”

I heard the click of doggie toenails enter the room and watched the mutt stop beside Debbie for an ear-scratch. Then, to my surprise, she trotted over and put her head on my knee.

Debbie laughed. “I don’t believe it! You take her for a walk once and she’s all over you.”

“Yup,” I said. “Steena and I are buddies, aren’t we?” I ruffled her silky curls and enjoyed the adoring look in her eyes, then grabbed a cookie and dipped it in my coffee. “Mmm. These are good.”

“You need a dog,” said Debbie, tongue in cheek.

“You might be right,” I said, and she nearly choked on her coffee. “That just might be my belated Christmas gift this year.”

She stared at me then hollered for Mickey. He arrived in short order, worry on his face. It smoothed out when he saw the sparkle in her eyes. “Honey,” she said, “will you get that box on the top shelf of our bedroom closet?”

“Anything for you, Pumpkin,” he said as he hurried off.

“Pumpkin?” I squeaked.

“Shush.”

Mickey returned in a minute with a large flat box, the kind clothing stores use to pack your purchase in.

“Thanks, Sweetie,” Debbie said, and turned to me. “I bought this a while ago already. Was gonna wait till you got home, but I think now is the time.”

Frowning, I looked from her to the box. “What’s this for?”

She grinned. “It’s a retirement gift.”

“Retirement? First of all, I didn’t work enough to warrant a gift, and secondly, I quit working a few years ago already.”

“Agh! Just open it, woman.”

Tentatively, I took the box, which was fairly lightweight, and set it on the table in front of me, careful not to spill my coffee. I opened it and saw, nestled inside, a fluffy sweater in a shocking shade of orangey-red. At a loss for words, I stroked the fabric.

“Oh Debbie, I love it. But why do you call it a retirement gift?”

“Because I won’t let you take Sam’s shabby shirt with you to Paris. Time to retire it, preferably in the trash, and start a new phase. So try it on already.”

I held up the sweater—a cardigan style with three large buttons down the front—then removed Sam’s shirt and pulled on the sweater. It felt as soft as Steena’s curls, and I pulled it around myself like a hug. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. Sam would love it. Red was his favourite color.”

“I’m not telling you to get rid of Sam’s old shirt, but let this sweater mark a new beginning.”

I laughed. “I love this shirt, but it’s going to fall off me in pieces one of these days.”

I hugged her fiercely, then stood on tiptoe and gave Mickey a kiss on the cheek. “You guys are the best. God sure knew what he was doing when he brought you here.” We were all getting a little red-eyed, so I grabbed up my stuff and turned to go.

“I have packing to do, folks. Thanks for the sweater. Bye Steena.” The mutt licked my hand and I grinned as I headed back home.

 

**Well, folks, that’s the end of the story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you’d like to hear a little more about the story, the author, and other bookish things, please find me here next Thursday, December 6th.

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