They were all sitting around the kitchen table getting warm, sipping hot chocolate. Francine smiled and was grateful to be out of the falling snow. Max’s question echoed in her mind, what are you running from? She was embarrassed asking for help but her first priority was the safety and welfare of her son Tommy. Her thoughts flashed back to last Christmas and visions under the pouring rain of red and orange lights flashing from the ambulance and fire trucks. The scurry of emergency responders tending to her family. Those events ran through her mind in slow motion, as they had done all year in her restless nightmares, like watching a horror movie over and over again. She watched the blustery night and saw them at the car, getting ready to drive home, filled with Holiday goodwill from attending the 1988 Annual Culver City Charity Christmas party, a family tradition. She could hear her husband Terry shouting through the windy downpour,
“You look tired, let me drive babe, you and Tommy stay cozy in the backseat.” She nodded and threw him a kiss. Her memory was vivid, as she loaded Tommy into the car while her mom Elise, rode shotgun. The heavy rain deluge overpowered the struggling windshield wipers slowly moving back and forth while she and Tommy slept in the backseat. She never saw the oncoming truck slide across road and into the oncoming traffic, colliding with them, head on. Waking up in the UCLA Medical Center she was told of the tragic events. Their son Tommy suffered minor injuries and her arm was broken. But her husband Terry and mom Elise did not survive that stormy Christmas night. Screaming in anguish she lost consciousness again.
Since then, Francine’s life took a downward spiral. Not only did she lose the love of her life but the guiding light and unconditional love that was her mom. She became obsessed by the memories of the collision. Because of her guilt, she couldn’t function, or hold down a job. In deep depression, she lost their home, eventually forced to live in shelters and finally in their car. She and Tommy were all alone. And everywhere she looked in Los Angeles was a constant painful reminder. With Christmas approaching and knowing the Holidays would never be the same, she decided it was time to get away. Packing up everything, she and Tommy headed north on the I-5, not knowing where they would end up. The tears rolled down her face, as she slowly relived every sad moment of her heartbreaking Christmas story of last year to the elderly couple, as a tired Tommy lay sleeping in her lap. Kathy took Francine’s hands into hers, consoling her.
“My God Francine, I am so sorry. It was a horrible accident, but you have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“I was supposed to drive us home that night, it should have been me that was killed, not Terry.”
They all sat in awkward silence for a while, as Francine whispered to Tommy,
“C’mon baby, we’ve already taken up so much of their time. It’s time to go,” as they all got up from the table. Kathy gave a forlorn look at Max who stood up and declared,
“Okay, you’re staying here tonight, take your hot chocolates and follow me,” and headed to the adjacent ground floor parlor. It was a huge room with overstuffed sofas in front of stone wood burning fireplace.
“Oh, this is so nice of you, but we can’t impose,” said Francine. Kathy lit the candles located around the room,
“Oh hush, you and Tommy are more than welcomed, and you’ll be safe here,“ while she prepared the overstuffed couches with blankets and pillows for them to sleep. Max headed outside to gather wood to start a fire so they would stay warm in the darkened house throughout the night. An excited Tommy looked up and asked,
“Can I come outside and help you, Max?
“Of course, put on your coat and let’s go.” Kathy took Francine by the hand and they sat on the couch in front of the flickering candles.
“Sweetheart, I know things seem pretty bleak right now, but after a warm cozy night in front of the Christmas fire, things will feel better in the morning.” Tears filled Francine’s eyes,
“You and Max are so kind to share your home, not even two hours ago we were strangers.”
“Oh, my dear, it’s a time for sharing. Don’t you know everything works out at Christmas? All you need is a little hope.” Francine sat back on the sofa filled with gratitude as they both sipped their cups of chocolate. Slowly shaking her head, Francine spoke very softly,
“Kathy, I’m afraid hope abandoned me a long time ago . . , I feel so empty.” Kathy continued,
“Let me tell you a little story. There was a young girl that grew up in an orphanage, always being passed over, but always hopeful that life had more to offer. She remembered one of the last things her mom told her, do something with your life, so she took off to find her destiny,” taking another sip.
“Oh, but her passion was art and eventually found a job as painter for Woolworths. Do you know what that is?’ Francine shook her head.
“No, I never heard of it.”
“A long time ago, it was a department store downtown. She sat in the window and painted color by numbers landscapes as people walked by.”
“So, she became a professional artist.”
“Well, not really, it wasn’t her art or her creations. 1 means blue or 2 means green wasn’t exactly her vision, but she didn’t give up. One Christmas she volunteered at the Children’s Hospital and started drawing pictures for the young patients and saw a young man in a Santa’s hat reading stories to them. The kids loved them and laughed and cheered and ran up to be with him. Oh, and when their eyes met. . , it was love at first sight. They became inseparable and got married, promising each other that they would grow old together. But then he was drafted into the army and sent away to war, and deep down, neither one expecting to ever see each other again.” Kathy looked directly into Francine’s eyes,
“He was shipped overseas, but before leaving he told her, do something with your life, the same advice given by her mother. Later she learned of a terrible battle where he was declared missing in action and it absolutely crushed her. Many months went by with no word and she felt. . . , empty . . ,” taking the young woman’s hands into hers, “but she never gave up hope.”
“Oh my God,” said Francine,
“Was he ever found? Did he ever come back?” Kathy nodded her head,
“Yes” she smiled and pointed towards the kitchen,
“Yes, he did,” as Max and Tommy covered in snow came into the parlor with their arms loaded with firewood.
to be continued