Francine sat silently in shock, letting his words sink in.
Nobody has lived in this house ever since the McKay’s passed away ten years ago yesterday, on Christmas Day, 1979. She stood up and stared at him with incredulity and contempt,
“Why would you lie like that? That’s a pretty cruel joke mister. . .” Shaking his head, Mr. Wheeler replied,
“I’m afraid we’re not joking. And the neighborhood gas station down the street hasn’t been the Kory-Mart since the original owners sold it about nine years ago.” The two men looked at each other, not quite understanding the young woman’s confusion. But Mr. Wheeler continued,
“There has been a legal development with the house and property and I’m sure the rightful owners will want to take possession. We’ll give you until tonight to pack your things and vacate . . . , the King County Sherriff will be by in the morning.” The two men stood, obviously dejected from having to deliver such distressing news and Officer Sanchez said,
“We’ll show ourselves out ma’am, we’re sorry,” as they exited the large house through the creaking wooden front door. Francine sat at the kitchen table in silence for a while, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Shocked and in tears, she slowly entered the parlor and looked at Tommy still asleep on the couch like an angel, her angel. Moving towards the foot of the staircase and looking up she was filled with apprehension as the faint sound of a typewriter called to her. Climbing two flights to the McKay’s apartment she gently opened the door only to find a dark, silent and abandoned room. Seeing old furniture covered over with sheets and shabby red taffeta drapes skirting the windows was unnerving. Obviously unoccupied for a long time, walking into the unused space seemed solemn, like walking into an empty church for the first time. Pulling open the drapes she looked down over the snowy sports field of the school. In her mind’s eye it was summertime with kids running and hollering on the green grass. That certainly would have made Max very happy, but all was quiet and serene, just a smooth blanket of soft white powder looking back at her.
“Mommy where are you?” called Tommy from the parlor downstairs.
“I’ll be right down baby,” she answered. Turning to leave she passed a dusty desk with an old typewriter covered with cobwebs resting on it. An old, yellowed sheet of paper was in the carriage. Blowing away the dust and advancing the carrier knob, she exposed the typewritten words “helping others reveals the best version of yourself and accepting help gives others the opportunity to be their best.”
In a daze, Francine spent the rest of the day gathering up all of their belongings. She cleaned and straightened up the parlor and kitchen, re-covered the furniture and took a last look around. Still reeling about the events of the last few days, she smiled at their little decorated Christmas tree still on the table. She and Tommy were saved by lovely strangers that showed them kindness when they needed it most. They would always be thankful to Max and Kathy for showing them love and compassion and above all restoring their hope. Relocating their blue Honda Civic from the front of the Kory-Mart to the driveway, with a full gas tank, she and Tommy repeated the all too familiar task of packing up the car.
“C’mon sweetheart, get buckled in.”
“Where are we going mommy?”
“I’m not sure baby, but there is one stop we have to make.” The street was still covered in snow bordered on both sides with three-foot-high snowbanks. Francine carefully maneuvered into the parking lot of St. Thomas More Church and around to the back and parked. She got Tommy out of the car, and they walked over to the small churchyard cemetery. There were small headstones and smaller slabs gently resting on the ground, all inscribed with names and dates of the passed loved ones. She wiped away the snow, looking for a specific grave. Finally, among the headstones was a larger one of prominence. Inscribed were the words Maxwell McKay, 1904-1979 and Kathleen McKay, 1906-1979. Loving Parents and Dearest Friends. And underneath, the words “Christmas won’t come from something you buy, it comes from your heart, if you give it a try”.
“Oh my God. . .” she gasped and lovingly ran her hand across the inscription. Coming face to face with their loving memorial and those words spoken to her only a few days earlier felt dreamlike and not real. But her tears began to flow when reality set in. An adjacent smaller headstone was engraved with angel wings on the top and words with Jonathan McKay 1946-1953, Beloved Son.
So, what Mr. Wheeler told her was true but seeing little Johnny’s grave was even more heartbreaking. Especially imagining the pain Max and Kathy must have gone through losing their seven-year-old child, practically the same age as her own son. Francine sat on the snow-covered ground, placed her face in her hands and cried. Tommy sat on her lap and wrapped his arms around her neck and held her tight.
“It’s okay mommy,” as the snow started to fall again, leaving her in a state of uncertainty. Was it her grief and depression combined with her need for salvation that made her imagine the past few days? Holding her little boy she looked down and noticed something wedged between the two headstones. She brushed away the snow and realized it was the tin Christmas box with the heart and the words A Lot Of Love on it that only yesterday sat on the table under their small Christmas tree. Apprehensively, she picked up the box and slowly opened it. Inside was an envelope with the name FRANCINE written across the front. Her hands trembled and she looked around to see if anyone was watching them. The snow and wind were falling heavier as she finally looked up to the heavens.
“What is it mommy?” asked Tommy.
“It’s a Christmas present, baby.” She opened the envelope to discover some kind of folded and aged document. Not being familiar in legal matters it read; Quitclaim Deed dated December 1, 1979. The house and its property located on 5635 SW Elm Street in the City of Seattle, King County Washington by the grantors, Maxwell McKay and Kathleen McKay legally transfer any and all interest to the grantee, niece Elise Alison McKay.
“Oh my God . . ,” trying to make sense of it all and after finally realizing, she whispered,
“That’s my mom. . .” Also enclosed were old wrinkled $100 dollar bills together with $1000 bonds and bank certificates and a small handwritten note, Francine, we’ve been waiting for you. ‘Do something with your life’, Merry Christmas, Love – Uncle Max and Aunt Kathy. Francine sat overwhelmed, trembling with emotion. Tears rolled down her face while sobbing uncontrollably realizing that they were rescued by the family she thought she had lost.
She held the tin box and envelope to her heart and huddled together with Tommy. With the snow swirling all around them she closed her eyes and whispered,
“I promise I will.”
Epilogue to be continued