Sarah's Christmas Journey

Sarah opened the front door. It was 5:00am. She knew Buddy, the newspaper kid, would be along soon. He was so kind and punctual. Rain or shine, the newspaper was always placed, not thrown, onto the doormat beside the big, green pot of pansies. 

Sarah often baked treats to help keep him sustained during his daily neighborhood route, but she hadn’t used the oven in over a month. Sighing heavily, she wrapped her plush blue bathrobe closer around her middle and placed a tin with a few store-bought cookies out for Buddy. At least this daily ritual gave her some semblance of normality.

There was a cold, biting wind that morning, the day after Christmas. There was no snow, but it was in the forecast. Looking down the road, it was evident to Sarah that no one else was up. 

Shutting the door and locking the deadbolt, she turned and looked wearily through to the mantle in the living room. She could barely make it out in the dark, which was a good thing. She didn’t want to see the framed photos placed on it. All reminders of what she still couldn’t bear. She hadn’t had any interest in decorating the house for the holidays either. The place felt just as out of sorts as she was.

She was used to getting up early and often put the kettle on around this time. Once Buddy had been, she found it hard to do anything else. The last six months had been a painful blur and she didn’t want to think about it.

As she slowly sipped her chamomile tea, she debated whether to go back to bed but she knew she’d probably just lie there, feeling lost. What to do? What to do? A stack of old magazines needed sorting for recycling. The freezer needed thawing and cleaning out. The cupboards needed a good wipe-down, and the bedroom? Well, that wasn’t worth mentioning. 

The kitchen and bedroom were the only places in the house where Sarah lived. The rest of the old, four-bedroom farmhouse was gathering dust. Stuff in the garage needed sorting but that was far too overwhelming.

At least she was able to work from home. Her job as a book editor used to have her traveling around the country but now, she only wanted to work remotely. She’d become a hermit purely by happenstance. Still, it was hard to imagine focusing her mind on work. She was waiting for new chapters from three authors and had at least four manuscripts she needed to edit.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Who could that be at this hour? It’s only 5:30am.

She wasn’t sure if she should open it but on her way down the hallway, she heard a familiar voice.

“Sappy! Hey, Sappy!”

Begrudgingly, she unlocked the deadbolt, turned the knob and was nearly knocked over by her overbearing older brother, Steve.

She rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.

Steve smiled mischievously, “Oh c’mon, Sap, just jokin’”. He always could push her buttons. She hated being called by the nickname he gave her when they were young.

“What the heck are you doing here?” she demanded. “I thought you had winged your way back to England for the holidays.”

“That was the plan,” answered Steve. “But my flight was delayed so I thought what the hell, I’ll reschedule and come have an impromptu visit with my sis.”

“Well, I don’t have anything much to eat, and no beds are made up. How long are you staying?”

“Long enough to catch some sleep and head back to the airport later this afternoon,” Steve said through a yawn while he shuffled his large, black suitcase into the living room.

Sarah half-heartedly offered, “Okay, I guess you can camp on the couch for now. Will egg and toast suffice for breakfast?”

“Sounds great,” Steve said as he kicked up his feet on the couch.

Sarah headed back to the kitchen and kept to herself as she went about getting Steve’s breakfast ready. She boiled a free-run egg, toasted a piece of whole grain bread, and put the kettle on for some Earl Grey tea, which she knew was Steve’s favorite.

She flipped through an old women’s fashion magazine while she waited for everything to cook, then put it all on a tray and placed it on the coffee table beside Steve, but he had fallen asleep. She watched him for a moment. His thick, blonde-gray hair looked just as tousled and unkept as his growing beard. He’d always been a free spirit. The kind that was always up for anything.

Disappointed but relieved, she headed back to the kitchen. She didn’t begrudge Steve his rest, but she also didn’t feel up to the obligatory chit-chat.

It was nearly noon when Steve woke up. He stretched and yawned several times before getting up off the couch, then headed into the kitchen. All was quiet. He put his hands on the teapot. Cold. He climbed the stairs to the bathroom, and on the way, caught a glimpse of Sarah in her bedroom through the partially opened door.

Steve peered around the room. The curtains were drawn, but the weak winter sun was still able to penetrate them and softly light the room. Sarah was lying on the bed, wrapped up in a thick, white and pink paisley quilt. There were messy piles of magazines, papers, and manuscripts sitting on an old, round wooden table by the window. Some of her clothes were haphazardly piled onto a chair in the corner, and a couple of large, plastic tubs sat alongside them. This wasn’t the Sarah he knew. She had always been a stickler for neatness.

Poor girl, so exhausted. She didn’t deserve this. He carefully closed the door, had a quick shave in the bathroom with his portable electric razor, then headed back downstairs to the kitchen. Scrounging around in the fridge, he threw together a cheese and tomato sandwich and poured himself some apple juice from a tetra pak container.

Afterward, he went back to the couch, put the black blazer on that he’d arrived in and looked at his cell phone. No messages. Strange, but then everyone at work knew he was off today as he was traveling during the Christmas break. It wouldn’t be long before he headed out again. He Googled local taxi services and booked a cab.

About 20 minutes later, Sarah appeared. She had changed from her robe into a white blouse, blue pants and brown loafers. Her brown-gray hair was rolled up into a bun, with long, straggly strands hanging down. Her brown eyes were as big as ever, but it was evident they were wrapped up in grief.

“Hey, I have to leave soon,” Steve said with a caring glance.

“Yeah.”

He hesitated. “Before I do, I want to give you something special.”

“Okay,” said Sarah, perplexed.

“Come sit on the couch,” he said, patting his hands on the cushion beside him.

Sarah slowly sat down.

Steve pulled out a small package from his suitcase and placed it in Sarah’s hands.

She carefully tore away the outer brown paper wrapping and opened the box. Inside was a tiny music box. She took it out and inspected it. Instantly, she could tell it wasn’t just any music box. She recognized Dave’s handiwork. He had poured his exceptional woodworking skills into it, and she was sure his friend Matt had done the mechanical part. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

Looking at the bottom, she quietly gasped. The inscription said, “All my love. Forever, Dave.”

Tears began flowing and she let them come. She sobbed hard for a good 10 minutes, then finally looked at Steve with a smile. He squeezed her right hand.

“Dave wanted you to have this when the time, well, you know, when the time was right.”

“This is absolutely beautiful. Thank you. Thank you for coming here and giving it to me. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Outside, a waiting taxi honked.

“True love, eh?” Steve smiled as he rose from the couch, gathered his things, and made his way to the door.

“See you soon, Sarah,” he said, walking down the stairs.

“Don’t be a stranger, eh?” Sarah said, waiving.

At last. The first fleeting thoughts of closure enveloped her as she closed the door. She turned to look at the mantle with photos of her and Dave and felt his warm gaze from above.