As Francine drifted off to sleep under the soft blankets in front of the warm fire, she was happy and content. Tommy was safe and asleep in the next sofa, wearing his new woolen cap. Her thoughts were on the last few days when the universe did in fact show them empathy. Together they played in the snow, built a snowman, cut down and decorated a Christmas tree, played games, sang songs and took turns telling stories in front of the fire and learned how to waltz.
Early the next morning, on the Feast of Stephen, there was a pounding at the front door. Francine looked over at Tommy who was still asleep. The fire still kept the room warm and cozy all night. She got up from the couch to see who it was and peering through the curtain saw it was two men, one being a police officer. She slowly opened the door. The man in the suit said,
“Excuse me ma’am, I’m Ernest Wheeler of Seattle Housing and this is Officer Sanchez of the Seattle Police. May I ask what exactly what you’re doing here?”
“Well, Merry Christmas to both of you. I’m sorry, my son Tommy and I are guests of the McKay’s.” The police officer asked,
“You mean Max and Kathy McKay?” She nodded,
“Yes, that’s right, what’s this about?”
“Neighbor’s noticed smoke from the chimney,” he explained.
“Oh that? Since yesterday was Christmas Day and we lost power, Max built a big fire burning all day.”
“We?”
“Yes, Max and Kathy, Jimmy and Kory and Tommy and me.”
“Can we come in ma’am?”
“Of course, please come in.” They looked around the parlor at the small decorated Christmas Tree and unwrapped paper from opened presents. The coffee table was still messy with cookies and Ma-Jong tiles scattered about with little Tommy still asleep on the couch.
“Looks like you had quite a celebration here last night.”
“Yeah, it was so much fun,” she said smiling, “probably one of the best Christmases we’ve ever had.”
“And who are you ma’am?”
“Sorry, I’m Francine Hope and asleep in there is my son Tommy.”
“Please, let’s go into the kitchen so we won’t disturb Tommy and sit down,” directed Mr. Wheeler. The three of them sat at the table, confusing Francine even more.
“Well, Ms. Hope, you don’t belong here. We won’t press any charges but I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you and your son to leave.”
“Wait, what? We are invited guests of Max and Kathy,” Francine explained. “We’ve had a lovely Christmas together these past few days. Yesterday Max took Tommy out back to chop down a small tree and we all decorated it. Last night we had a feast of corn dogs and burritos and cookies and Kathy taught us how to dance the Christmas Waltz. Francine stood up and danced around the room singing, while adding wood to the smoldering little stove and putting the kettle on to boil.
“Frosted windowpanes, candles gleaming inside, painted candy canes on the tree . . . Can I offer you some coffee, or tea maybe?” Looking at Officer Sanchez and back at Francine, Mr. Wheeler cleared his throat,
“Well, Ms. Hope, please sit down,” and directed her back to the chair. Chuckling, still filled with Christmas magic, she said,
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m just so happy,” an emotion she hadn’t felt in a long time, “how can I help you?”
“I find that very hard to believe that you are invited guests,” said Mr. Wheeler.
“Why? They’ll be right down and explain everything, you’ll see. It takes a little time for them to come down the stairs, but Max sure loves his coffee in the morning, so I’ll have a cup waiting for him. Are you sure I can’t fix you a cup?” Looking directly at her, he said rather bluntly,
“Ms. Hope, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but nobody has lived in this house ever since the McKay’s passed away ten years ago yesterday, on Christmas Day, 1979.”
to be continued