It was the day after Thanksgiving and I was sitting in a truck stop just off of I-40 near Checotah, Oklahoma. My waitress was a cute little girl who looked to be about eighteen in her blue jeans and red sweatshirt that read, “Oklahoma Sooners.” Her name tag said she was “Jenni.” It’s a well known paradox that truck stops offer the best home cooking around. I had verified that piece of information over the past several weeks with the trip that I was now on. Knowing it would be fresh, I ordered an open faced turkey sandwich, with fries. I asked Jenni to tell the cook to cover them with gravy, the best way to eat fries, in my opinion.
I was travelling with my Yellow Lab, Tank and I suffered a twinge of guilt knowing that he was out in the motor home waiting for me while I was inside enjoying the warmth, an all star lunch, and Jenni’s kind hospitality. A cold front had followed a line of rainstorms heading east that we had driven through earlier that morning. It was chilly and still raining, seriously considering snow. A “wintry mix” is what the TV guys call it.
Tank and I had spent the night before at a nice little State campground just inside Oklahoma near the Arkansas line. We had the place pretty much to ourselves, it being Thanksgiving. We’d pulled into the campground the Wednesday before and gotten all set up. With the cable TV hooked up, and a well stocked bar, Tank and I watched the traditional football games and I grilled a Thanksgiving ribeye. I added a baked potato and some spinach I steamed in the microwave. It wasn’t your Norman Rockwell family Thanksgiving feast, but we got through it okay. Now, back on the road, I intended to get to the other side of Oklahoma and start heading north. Eventually we would end up at Frank Lawson’s cabin up in Washington State.
I won’t lie about it. Getting through Thanksgiving, alone was tough. Now, don’t get me wrong, Tank is the best company a man can have. But, at heart, I’m really a family guy. I had lost my wife back in the spring and getting out on the road in this RV was part of my self-prescribed healing process. I pull my Jeep behind the big motor home which allows me and Tank to explore wherever we decide to camp. The whole trip, from my home in Atlanta to Frank’s cabin was designed to readjust my outlook; to help me learn to live as half a couple. I sometimes thought it seemed to be like trying to live without one lung. Or maybe, just half a heart. But as Claire had said to me, after she died, “Life goes on.” I’ll get around to explaining that later.
“So, where are you headed today, Mister?” asked Jenni after she had delivered a generous triangle of the pecan pie that I had spied in the dessert case.
“My name is Mac. Mac MacClaine. And I’m not sure. I’m heading west. I may get as far as Amarillo, Texas. But maybe not. I’m not in any hurry.”
“Are you from out west? Are you heading home?” she asked. With only two other customers in the place who were sitting at the lunch counter, Jenni had time to visit.
“No. I’m actually from Atlanta. I’m just taking a little trip.”
“Well, where are you going to be for Christmas? It’s not far off now, you know. They had that Christmas parade on TV yesterday morning. You know, that one from New York? The one with those big balloons? I started watching that every year when I was a little girl. My mother would turn it on to keep me out of her way while she was cooking. It’s what kind of kicks off the Christmas season for me.”
I didn’t like her question. It forced me to think of something I didn’t want to think about. I had just gotten through Thanksgiving without Claire and I wasn’t yet sure how I was going to navigate through Christmas.
Christmas had been Claire’s favorite holiday. She had been a busy pediatrician but every year she had managed to find the time to decorate the house, turning it into a showplace of trees, lights, wreaths, candles and garland. I joked about coming home from work not knowing if I had entered Macy’s Christmas department, or Santa’s workshop. The smells, the sights and sounds. Claire made Christmas special. And this year would have been even more so with our grandson, Little Mac, now toddling at two. Our daughter Sarah, Little Mac’s mother, and her husband Jim will undoubtedly make it grand for him. But, my, how Claire would have loved it.
I didn’t know how to face Christmas without Claire. Wasn’t sure that I could. Being out here on the road, it would be pretty simple to just ignore it. Tank and I could busy ourselves with other things and just pretend that this December came without a 25th. What I would give to have Christmas with Claire just once more.
I didn’t want to bark at poor Jenni. So I just said, “I’m not sure where I’ll be. I’ll probably be up near Seattle somewhere.” It felt like time to leave. “But I won’t get there if I don’t get started.”
Jenni gave me my check and I paid her at the register. “You have a real safe trip now, Mister MacClaine. And, Merry Christmas.”
When I got back to the RV, I let Tank out and took him over to an open field that lay beyond the several acres of empty parking lot. The sky was still lightly spitting out a mix of drizzle and sleet. I watched the trucks up on the Interstate, kicking up trails of moisture that followed them, losing ground then being replaced with every turn of the wheels. I stood out in the weather watching my pup as he scouted through the field sniffing, investigating. He found just the right spots to leave deposits for other dogs to later discover.
Jenni had made me think about Christmas. And, I didn’t want to.
Tank was finished with his exploring and seemed ready to resume our trip. I followed him back into the RV and was about to get things underway when my cell phone rang. I recognized only the 404 area code for Atlanta.
“Hello? This is Mac MacClaine,” I said.
“Uh, Mr. MacClaine? Is that you?” a man’s voice asked. “This is John Parrish.”
“Yes, John. How are you?” I was puzzled by the call from my younger daughter Nicki’s latest admirer. I had met young Dr. Parrish several months before at a hospital function when I accompanied Nicki, in her final year of her pediatrics residency. He had come alone to the affair and sat with the group at our table. They knew each other from working together at the hospital and he seemed smitten by Nicki from the time we arrived. And, she, with him. In fact, it was Dr. John Parrish who left with my “date” that night. Thus started a dating life between the two that was well underway when Tank and I left on our trip. I had spent a good bit of time getting to know John and was impressed with him. From what I could gather, his background was solid. He was smart and well thought of in the medical community. For the father of a girl, his only drawback to me was his reputation as a lady’s man. But, so what? I would have loved to have had that reputation at his age.
“I am doing fine, thank you. Uh, where are you?” he asked.
“Well, at the moment I am at a truck stop in eastern Oklahoma.” I wondered why he was calling.
“Ah. I see. Are you enjoying your trip?” Did he have something to say?
“Yes, I am, John. What’s up?” I asked.
“Well, uh, I was wondering… um, are you going to be home for Christmas?” What was this all about?
“I hadn’t planned to be. Why do you ask?”
There was a pause. “Uh, well, I would like to talk to you. Uh, I would prefer that this be in person. But, uh… uh. Mr. MacClaine, I would like your permission to ask Nicki to marry me. Uh, I… I, uh. I plan to give her a ring on Christmas Eve… if that’s okay with you, of course. I, um, like I said, I wanted to ask you in person. But, if you aren’t going to be here… Well…”
Now the pause was on my end. I had been through this one other time with Jim Stone when he asked for Sarah’s hand. We had met for lunch and Jim raised the question shortly after we were seated at our table. Jim’s intentions were not unexpected. He and Sarah had dated since Jim had returned to Atlanta after graduating from law school. His intentions had always been clear to Claire and me and he had the good sense to get settled in with his law firm before marriage. I thought highly of John Parrish. But, with the trip that I was on, I had not been there to see the relationship develop. I was taken by surprise.
“Gee, John. You caught me off guard,” I said. “I guess things have moved right along since I left town, eh?”
“Well, yes, sir,” he answered. “Nicki and I have been dating since that banquet where you and I met. I’m crazy about her, Mr. MacClaine. So, uh, do I have your permission?”
“Yes, John. You do. What do you think she’ll say?” I couldn’t resist the question.
“Uh, I’m pretty sure she’ll say ‘yes.’ We’ve talked about it,” he said. “But a ring this Christmas will still be a surprise.”
“I appreciate your asking me, John. I’m glad that there are still some traditions that matter. Nicki is a wonderful young woman that her mother and I love very deeply. I’m sure you will treat her like the treasure that she is,” I said. It occurred to me that I had included Claire in the present tense. I was glad I did.
“Oh, I will. Yes, sir. I will.”
“Well, congratulations, Dr. Parrish,” I said.
“Thanks, Mr. MacClaine. Thanks a lot,” he responded.
“And, John, up to now it’s been ‘Mac.’ Now that we got this little formality out of the way, you can get back to calling me that, will ya?”
“Ha,” he laughed. I could picture the relieved young man on the other end of the phone. “Yes, sir, I will.”
After we hung up, I sat there in an easy chair of the motor home. Tank had laid down at my feet while I was talking to John. Suddenly, he stirred. He sat up and looked around the room. In an instant, I knew what had roused him. The scent. The perfume called “Angel.” It was Claire; the essence of Claire. It permeated the space as sure as the rain was falling. Claire had come to me in just this way after she had died. We had met several times, she and I, in those months following the accident. As she had told me at the first such encounter, it was only me and Tank who would experience her presence. Tank knew, and I knew, she was here again.
“Well, Mac. It’s hard to think of our Nicki getting married, isn’t it?”
“Oh, Claire. I have missed you so much. Why have you left me for so long? I thought you were going to be with me.”
“Mac, my dear, we’ve been through this. I died. But I must say that I am proud of the way you have soldiered on. You are doing just fine, my love,” she said.
“But you told me you would be here for me. You told me that you’d be here when I needed you. I thought we would be in touch more.”
“You will recall that we talked about the difference between ‘want’ and ‘need.’ You don’t need me even at this moment, but it’s not every day that a young man asks to marry our daughter.”
“So, I told him he had our permission. I assume that’s all right with you?”
“Yes, of course. He’s a fine young man. And, he’s a very good doctor. He will be good for Nicki. He’s strong enough to stand up to her. And she needs someone who will do that.”
“Well, I’m glad you approve. But I still miss you, Claire. I want this… this… these visits more often.”
“Again, Mac, you’re doing just fine. I started to speak with you back in Stuttgart. But you worked things out perfectly. You did exactly the right thing for our friend, Molly. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m glad you approve, Claire. And, I’m glad you are happy about Nicki and John.”
“There’s just one more thing, Mac. But it’s not a big deal.”
“What?”
“Well, obviously you must go home for Christmas. The kids need you there.”
“Naw, I don’t think so, Claire. They’re fine without me. And I’m not sure I can do Christmas without you. Tank and I will be better off kind of ignoring it this year.”
“You should go home, Mac. There is more in Atlanta that needs your attention.”
“Like what? What do you mean by that?”
The scent was gone as suddenly as it had come.
I pulled out of the parking area and was about to take the on ramp for I-40 West. I would be through Oklahoma City before nightfall. It appeared that I could make Amarillo if I wanted to push it.
Again, my cell phone rang. This time I saw that it was Sarah calling. This is strange, I thought. I’ve gone for over a week without speaking with anyone in Atlanta and now I get two phone calls from there within a half an hour.
“Hey, Sarah?” I answered. “How’s my big girl today?”
“Hi, Daddy. Where are you?” she asked.
We went through the preliminaries of where I was, how I was, and what I was doing.
“So, Daddy, I just called to make sure you would be home for Christmas. It’s not too soon to start the planning and I’m sure you will be. But I just wanted to check.” Sarah had always operated under the belief that assuming something would happen was about seventy-five percent of making it so. That strategy had served her well.
“Well, I’m not exactly sure yet…” What? I was too sure. Or so I thought.
“Daddy, Jim’s family is going on a cruise and Nicki and John will be here. I think we all need to just stay at your house. We can have our normal Christmas Eve dinner of Oyster Stew and go on to the candlelight service at church. Then we’ll all be together on Christmas morning when Little Mac gets up to see what Santa left him. Won’t that be fun, Daddy?”
Bamboozled. I had been bamboozled.
Rather than making the right turn up the ramp to go west on I-40, I pulled forward and over to the side of the underpass to see if I could salvage the conversation.
“But, Sarah…”
“Oh, and by the way,” she took on a secretive tone, “I may as well go ahead and tell you…”
“What?” I asked.
And then, my lovely daughter delivered the coup de grace…“You’re going to be a granddaddy again.”
I pulled back up onto the road and took the entrance ramp for I-40 east. I would have sworn I caught just a whiff of the scent and heard a faint giggle… a giggle I recognized. I looked over at Tank who now occupied the co-pilot’s seat of the big motor home. I’m sure he caught the scent and heard the giggle too. We chased the rainy, sleety mess, the so called wintry mix, east. I knew I had about fourteen hours of driving to get back to Atlanta. It was just a matter of how I wanted to spend them. I decided to get through Memphis and camp that night somewhere around Tupelo, Mississippi. Then I could take my time and drive on in to Atlanta.
The law offices of Jackson, Day & Murphy, L.L.P. in midtown Atlanta was staffed with a skeleton crew that day after Thanksgiving. Only junior associates normally overworked with projects and tasks laid on them by the partners of the firm were working. Though my son-in-law was not a junior associate, he was there in his office tidying up a few details on a case that he would be arguing in Superior Court the coming week. It was a dreary day outside his twentieth floor window. He seemed enveloped in a heavy gray cloud that barely allowed sight of other buildings in the Atlanta skyline. Rather than going out into the elements, he had opted for a carryout from the sandwich shop just off the lobby of the building. He had brought his lunch up and was finishing it at his desk. There was a soft rap on his door.
“Excuse me, Jim.” He looked up to see Sherry Latham standing in his door. “Do you have a minute?” Sherry was interning at the firm while she attended school to become a paralegal assistant. She had come on board at Jackson Day back in August. It was a strange set of circumstances that landed her there and it was curiosity concerning those circumstances that now brought her to Jim Stone’s office.
“Sure, Sherry. Come on in.” Jim waved casually to a chair. “Have a seat. What brings you into the office on this day after Thanksgiving?”
“I figured it would be a good time to get some things done.” She looked at him with a quizzical expression. “And, I have some other questions,” she answered.
“Be glad to help. What questions? Remember, I’m more involved in civil law. So, if your questions concern criminal law I might need to do a little studying myself.” Jim smiled at her. He had been impressed with Sherry since the day he had met her.
“This really isn’t about the law,” she said.
“Oh? What’s up?” he asked.
“I had Thanksgiving dinner yesterday with Earl Pettigrew and his family. I worked for him at the RV dealership when I met Mr. MacClaine back in August. That’s when he bought his motor home.” Jim knew the story. Sherry’s eyes drilled into Jim’s as she asked, “Was Mac’s wife the woman who was killed in the accident that also killed my husband?”
Jim considered what Sherry was asking him. He knew the time had come to let Sherry know the whole story. He looked at the twenty four year old widow with care in his eyes, “Yes, Sherry. Claire MacClaine was in the car that was crushed by Jimmy’s rig when it decoupled from his cab. Everyone knows that it wasn’t Jimmy’s fault. He had to swerve to miss a motorcycle. It was just a tragedy.”
“And, then Mac helped me get this job here at your law firm? And helped me get into the paralegal school, too?” she asked.
“Even though you two have never talked about it, Mac feels a kind of connection with you, Sherry. Both of you lost your loved ones in the same freak accident. He wanted to help you all he could.” Jim saw no reason to mention that I had financially underwritten Sherry’s salary at Jackson Day, as well as her tuition for the paralegal training. Jim and I had devised a whole plan to get Sherry out of her dead end job as a receptionist at the RV dealership and into something with a future.
“I had no idea,” Sherry responded. “Back in August, Earl just told me that one of his customers, was looking for someone to help out at a law firm and he recommended me. I think I was about to get laid off from the dealership. Sounds like Mac rescued me. I don’t have anyone else to support me. With Jimmy gone, I’m on my own.”
“Well, don’t read too much into it. We got a fine employee. You’re doing a great job here, Sherry. And, if all goes well, we want to see you go on to law school after you’ve completed the paralegal training. It was a good thing that Mac did… for all of us.”
“Where is he now? Is he off in that RV somewhere, or is he in town?” she asked.
“He’s been gone for several weeks now. But my wife called a little earlier and he’s on his way back. I’m thinking he’ll be here over the weekend, or maybe the first of next week.”
“Do you think you could arrange for me to talk with him when he gets back? I’ve got some questions for him, too.” She wrinkled her brow in a curious way when she asked, “Has he ever mentioned speaking with his wife? I mean… since the accident?”
Jim was perplexed. “No. I can’t say that he has.”
At ten thirty-five on Tuesday morning, I walked into the Starbuck’s on a corner of Peachtree Street one block south of the office building of Jackson, Day & Murphy. Sherry Latham was seated at an isolated table for two overlooking the sidewalk. She watched as I entered and strode directly to her.
I took her hand in both of mine and said, “Hello, Sherry Latham. It’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Mr. MacClaine. Thank you for coming to meet with me,” she said.
“Hey, you know my name is ‘Mac.’ This is my pleasure. How do you like your coffee?” She told me and I stepped up to the counter and placed the order.
Sherry was gazing out the window at people moving about on the sidewalk. The rain of the weekend had moved out and was replaced with sunny skies and warmer temperatures. She turned back to me when I arrived with the coffee.
“I’ve learned that you lost your wife in the same accident that I lost Jimmy,” she said bluntly. “How did you find that out?”
I looked into the sad, but beautiful green eyes of this young woman. “In one of the conversations with Earl, when I was shopping for my RV, he mentioned that your Jimmy had been killed in an accident involving an eighteen wheeler back in April. The consequence seemed too strange, so I asked him more. Sure enough, it was.”
“Why didn’t you mention it to me?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see any reason to make something of it. I wasn’t hiding the fact, mind you. But, it just didn’t seem necessary.”
“And, the job? And the school that you arranged for me? Is that all because of the accident?” I could see tears beginning to well in her eyes.
“I saw a chance for Jim’s law firm to get a good employee, Sherry. It has all worked out rather well from what I can tell, hasn’t it?” I asked.
“Yes, it has,” she responded. “But I just didn’t want to be a charity case, that’s all.”
I reached over and patted her shoulder as if I were talking to Nicki or Sarah. “You shouldn’t think that at all. You came highly recommended and that’s how you got the job.”
“Well, okay. Thank you so much for what you did. It has changed my life so much for the better. I love the job. And I hope that I can continue on and go to law school eventually. Jim seems to think it is possible,” she said.
“Sure it is. I’m one of those who believe that you can do most anything you want if you put your mind to it and work hard enough.”
“I hope so.” Sherry paused, considering her next words carefully. “May I ask you a crazy question?”
“Why sure. What is it?”
“Have you ever… uh, spoken with your wife… since the accident?”
The question rocked me back on my heels. “Why do you ask?”
Sherry pursed her lips. She glanced out the window as if to compose what she was about to say. She looked back at me. “Jimmy had this annoying habit. He used to rattle his keys, or the change, whatever was in his pocket. It used to drive me crazy. It was an unconscious thing with him. But he did it all the time.”
“Uh, yeah?” I waited for more.
“Every time I heard that annoying jingling sound, I knew Jimmy was close by.” Sherry looked away wistfully. “I can’t tell you how badly I have longed to hear that sound… you know, since the accident.”
I smiled, thinking I knew what was coming. “Yeah?”
“Then one night, I think it was in June, I was at home after work. I was really down, missing him. I was sitting on my sofa, sobbing, really feeling sorry for myself. Then I heard that sound… the jingling. I looked around but there was no one there. But then I heard him speak to me.” She looked over at me. I was consumed by what she was saying. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
“Go on,” I said.
“He said, ‘Baby, I’m here.’ That’s what he called me, ‘Baby.’ He said, ‘I miss you so bad and I sure wish I could hold you. But I want you to know that I’ll be here for you always. I’ll be looking out for you.’ He said that, Mac. I heard it and I know I heard it.”
“Did you say anything to him? Was it a two sided conversation?” I asked.
“Yes. I don’t remember what I said. But I asked him questions. And he answered me.”
“What else did he say? Do you remember? Did he say anything about how you could visit him or have him visit you?
“He said that he couldn’t come to me just anytime I wanted him to. All he said is that he would be there for me if I needed him.”
“Has this happened more than just that one time?” I was enthralled in Sherry’s story. It sounded so familiar.
“It has happened several times. I always know when he’s near because I hear those jingling keys,” she said.
“When were some of the other times you heard him?” I asked.
“But, wait…” She stopped. “Do you think I’m crazy? Has anything like this ever happened to you… with your wife?” she asked.
“Yes, Sherry. It has. But first, tell me about the other times.”
“I was driving home one day and he warned me to slow down and move over to the middle of the road. I wasn’t speeding or anything. But I did what he said. Then I went around a bend in the road and there was a little boy, maybe three of four years old, right in my lane. He had chased a ball out into the street. I probably would have hit him if I hadn’t been warned.”
“Wow.” I said.
“He has come to me at other times, too. But mostly when I was really down and discouraged. When I needed a boost. He seemed to come to me just to offer some hope. He actually told me that a good job was in the works for me back in August. It turned out to be the one I got. Or, the one that you got for me.”
She noticed that I was smiling. It was a big, very happy smile. I couldn’t help myself. It sounded so good to know that this young woman was being visited, and helped, by her husband.
“Now, tell me what has happened with you,” she asked.
“Something very similar, Sherry. Claire wore a certain perfume. And before she speaks to me I can smell that scent. It was just the same as when she was alive. The scent announces her presence just as the jingling sound announces Jimmy’s.
Sherry and I sat there for another ten minutes talking about our encounters with our loved ones.
It was she who drew things to a close. “I’d better get back to work. I mentioned to Jim that I was coming to meet with you and he told me I could take all the time I wanted. But I’ve got a couple of projects that I need to complete.”
When we got up to leave, I casually asked, “What are you doing for Christmas?” Will you be in town, or are you going away?”
“Oh, I’ll be right here. I don’t have time to drive up to Kentucky. That’s where my mother lives. Jimmy was such a kid about Christmas. He was worse than a six year old. It was a special time for him… for us. I’d really just like to ignore it this year.”
“I know exactly how you feel. Claire was the same way. I wanted to ignore it too, but it didn’t work out.” A thought occurred to me. “I have an idea, Sherry. I’d like for you to spend Christmas with us. You’ll love my girls and you’ll fit right in.”
“Oh, Mr. MacClaine, I couldn’t do that. I’d be intruding and I’ll be just fine at home,” she said.
“It’s ‘Mac’ and I’ll hear nothing of the sort,” I said. “We have plenty of room at my house and I’ll expect you there Christmas Eve around four o’clock. We’ll have dinner and go to the candlelight service at church. You just plan on that, now, okay?”
“Really, I couldn’t…”
“Look. My son-in-law is your boss. Am I going to have to bring him into the situation?” I smiled at her.
“You really have been too kind,” she said.
We parted on the sidewalk. “I’ll see you Christmas Eve, Sherry.”
It was good to see that the weatherman cooperated on Christmas Eve with temperatures hovering in the upper thirties when the kids began showing up. I say that because I am of the belief that one must have a fire in the fireplace on Christmas Eve even if you are wearing shorts and it is eighty degrees outside. Sarah, Jim and Little Mac were the first to arrive just before four o’clock, with Sherry Latham pulling into the driveway right behind them. The Doctors MacClaine (Nicki) and (John) Parrish had both worked until after three o’clock at the hospital but were expected to arrive by four-thirty.
I don’t know how the tradition started, but years ago Claire began serving us oyster stew on Christmas Eve. We never had it any other time during the year, but on Christmas Eve, it had become the expected meal. Everyone was seated at the kitchen table. I sat at the head with Sarah on my left and Little Mac between her and Jim. On my right was Nicki. John Parrish was seated between her and Sherry Latham. Claire’s place, at the opposite end from me, was vacant. It was a sight that I was not yet used to; one that I reckoned I would never get used to.
I was about to offer a blessing when John Parrish said, “Excuse me, Mac, may I say something?”
“Why, yes, John. Please do,” I said.
John pushed back his chair and stood. All of us looked up at him, smiling, expectant. “I just want to say that this has been a wonderful time for me, getting to know all of you. You have welcomed me into your lives and your home, making it feel so natural and so comfortable. I tell you now that I have fallen deeply in love with Nicki and want to live the rest of my life with her.” Dr. John Parrish dropped to one knee. Nicki’s complete surprise was evident as her eyes were as big as the bowls before us. He opened and held up to her a small pale blue box. “Nicki,” he said, “you would make this the happiest day of my life if you would accept this ring and become my wife.”
I guess what happened next could have been predicted. Tank stirred at my feet. He and I noticed the arrival of the scent… the unmistakable presence of Claire.
Nicki burst into tears of joy as she said, “Oh, yes. Yes. YES.”
Sarah burst into tears of joy. I could not hide a few tears of my own and noticed Sherry’s eyes welling. I knew that she felt happiness for Nicki and John, but also knew that she must be missing her Jimmy terribly. Little Mac, for once, seemed speechless as he looked from one to another at all that was taking place with the adults around him.
Always one to be counted on, Jim stood and said, “Well, while the rest of you come to grips with your emotions, I’d like to offer a toast.” He raised his glass of wine, and we all followed suit. “To Doctor and Doctor Parrish.”
As everyone touched glasses, I caught Sherry’s eye and winked at her. She smiled back at me broadly as if sharing a confidence. I looked at her questioningly and she just smiled in response. In the next moment, it seemed that the chaos which was normal for our family meals returned. Sherry joined in as everyone seemed to speak at once congratulating Nicki and John. Then all of the expected questions of when the wedding might take place, where they would go on a honeymoon, and so on, took over.
As the dishes were being cleared, and everyone was moving about, I drew close to Sherry, wanting to speak with her quietly. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, Mac. I am fine,” she said.
“I just didn’t want…”
Sherry’s face was alive with happiness. “Mac, I smelled the scent. It… she was here, wasn’t she? I smelled it.”
The seven of us occupied half of the pew when we took our seats for the Candlelight service in church that night. I was sitting at the end of the pew next to the aisle. Sherry Latham stood next to me. Sarah and Jim were next, holding Little Mac, whom we believed would be fast asleep following the first hymn. Next to Jim were Nicki and her new fiancé, John Parrish. The service began with a processional singing “Joy to the World.” There followed a children’s choir singing, “Away in a Manger,” and “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Our Pastor delivered a wonderful message speaking of the hope, joy, and peace that Christmas represents. A guest soloist was present to sing the obligatory “O Holy Night.”
The end of the service came with the congregation standing and singing “Silent Night.” The Pastor lit candles held by the ushers, who then proceeded to light the candles of the person seated on the aisle of each pew. The sanctuary lights were dimmed, almost off. When the usher lit my candle, once again, the unmistakable essence of Claire filled my space. I turned to light Sherry’s candle and at the moment the flame took hold, I clearly heard the jingling sound of keys. It was unmistakable. I looked at her trembling candle, then at mine. Both of our candles revealed two distinct flames emanating from the single wick. Sherry looked up into my eyes. We both had tears of joy rolling down our cheeks. Just once more, right there at that moment, the loves of our lives were with us.
I leaned close to her and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Sherry, Jimmy.”
She returned my whisper. “Merry Christmas, Mac and Claire.”
