The rink is now closed. Thank you all for coming, and have a merry Christmas.”
Andrew heard the closing announcement crackle from the Rockefeller Center speakers as he jumped out of a cab at the corner of 5th and 47th and ran across the plaza to the skating rink.
Gripping the railing beneath the mighty tree, he scanned the rink below. The Christmas Eve crowd had dwindled to just a few dozen, and the last of the skaters were making their way off the ice as the Zamboni driver readied his big machine. For a moment, Andrew’s heart sank. Could his hunch be wrong? What if she wasn’t there?
Then a couple of teenage girls moved aside, and he could see Beth down by the rink. She was leaning against the railing, staring out at the ice, lost in thought. He watched her for a moment. She seemed so small and vulnerable, so alone.
“Not skating tonight?” Andrew sidled up beside his wife at the railing. Beth didn’t look at him, didn’t ask what he was doing there or how he’d known where to find her. She just ignored his question, kept staring straight ahead. Andrew hadn’t taken the time to formulate his thoughts and had no earthly idea what came next. He took a breath, started again.
“Beth, I’ve loved you my whole life. Every memory that’s ever meant anything to me had you in the starring role. And I would never deliberately do anything to hurt you.”
Beth looked at him, and Andrew could tell by the pained look in her eyes that she wasn’t convinced. He pressed on.
“I did a stupid thing and tried to convince myself that going to LA was the best thing for us. Of course, I should have talked it over with you. But I was arrogant and self-consumed, and all I could think about was money and success. I almost had myself convinced I was doing it for your own good. I was wrong, and I was foolish, but I’m not that guy anymore. I’m not that guy, and I will never be that guy again. Because I love you.”
He turned her to him and took her face in his hands. He said it again this time while gazing right into her eyes. “I love you. I. Love. You.”
Beth finally looked back at him. Her chin was quivering. “Beth, as long as I’m around, you will never be alone.”
Hearing Andrew repeat the line he’d said to her on their wedding day seemed to break down Beth’s last wall of resistance. The tears flowed—tears of relief, tears of desperation. Tears, he hoped, of forgiveness.
As the noisy Zamboni hummed its way across the ice, Andrew held his wife in his arms. She buried her face in his chest and cried as the snow started to fall harder and clung to their hair and shoulders. And when Andrew reached the point where he would usually break off the hug, he clung to her even tighter. He’d hold on forever if only he could, if only it meant his Beth would be there to hang on to.
Then an idea dawned on him, and he suddenly moved back. “I’ve got it!” he said. “I know what the gift is! You’re going to skate!”
“What gift? Skate? Andrew, what are you talking about?”
Andrew grabbed her by the hand and pulled her with him. “Come on, you’re skating! Don’t you see! It’s what you’ve always wanted! It’s your secret wish!”
“Secret wish? But, Andrew, the rink’s closed. It’s too late.”
Andrew grabbed a pair of skates from the rental rack, handed them to her. “It’s never too late,” he said. “Here. Put these on!”
“Andrew, no. We’ll come back tomorrow.”
“No! There is no tomorrow! Please, Beth. Just put them on. I’ll be right back!”
Andrew vaulted over the railing and slipped and slid his way across the ice toward the Zamboni.
“Excuse me, sir! Could I speak with you for a moment?”
Andrew darted in front of the big machine to block its path, and the burly driver hit the brakes and yanked off his headphones. “Bub, you need to move off the ice. Rink’s closed.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do that. You see my wife over there?” Andrew gestured to Beth, who gave the man a little smile and wave. The driver instinctively waved back and then caught himself.
“This is her Christmas gift. Do you have a wife?” Andrew read the name sewn on the surly driver’s shirt. “Dino?”
Dino glared at him. “Ex-wife.”
“Great!” Andrew said. “Then you understand. You see, I forgot to get her a Christmas gift, and I’m really in hot water. She told me that if I could figure out a way for her to skate at Rockefeller Center, all by herself, then all would be forgiven. She doesn’t think I can do it. Can you believe that? Kind of like the Giants last Sunday, eh? Down by four, with thirty-six seconds to play. Manning drops back, throws—touchdown! Can you help me get into the end zone, Dino?”
Dino the Zamboni driver scowled. Andrew figured he’d miscalculated. With his luck, the guy was probably a Jets fan.
“Please,” Andrew said. “Just five minutes. I’ll pay you.” Andrew pulled out his wallet and started peeling off cash. “Here. You can have it all. There’s a couple hundred bucks here.”
Dino scowled down at him. “Keep your money. You got five minutes.”
“Thank you, Dino! Thank you so much!”
Dino shifted the Zamboni into gear to move it off the ice. “Five minutes. Clock’s running, buddy.”
Watching from the railing, Andrew thought how beautiful and happy Beth looked as she cut slow circles across the lonely rink. She seemed to be swept up in the moment; her eyes were closed and a contented smile played on her lips.
Andrew heaved a sigh of relief. He could breathe again. He’d figured it out, solved the cosmic riddle. He’d found the one gift that would free him from fate’s cruel spell. This was much more than a music box; this was a gift for the soul. Everything was going to be all right. The dreaded 11:58 would come and go, and Beth would be none the wiser. She wouldn’t die tonight, or the next night, or for many years to come.
Little did Beth know that he’d given her more than a few minutes’ skating time. He had given her back her future. Their future. Children. Grandchildren. Thousands of wonderful memories yet to make.
Andrew smiled as he watched her graceful glide. The lights from the mighty Christmas tree cast her in soft amber light, making her look almost like an—
“Angel.”
Andrew turned to see that the Zamboni driver had silently eased up beside him at the railing. “She looks like an angel,” Dino said.
Andrew nodded. “Yeah.”
The burly driver was holding a cup of hot coffee. Andrew could see the logo on the side, a large golden key. He shook his head. “I guess you’d know all about angels. I never would have figured.”
Dino chuckled. “Angels come in all shapes and sizes, you know.”
“And apparently temperaments too,” Andrew said.
Dino laughed out loud at this. “Nice you still got your sense of humor, Farmer. Considering you’re almost out of time.”
Andrew shot him a look. “Think again, bub. This is what she wanted. This is the gift.”
Dino took a sip of coffee. “If only it were that easy.”
Andrew squared off with him. “What do you mean? I got her the perfect gift. I did it! She knows how much I love her. I did everything I was asked!”
Dino looked at Beth gliding effortlessly across the ice. “This is a lovely gesture, but unfortunately, it’s not the particular gift we were referring to.”
“Particular gift?” Andrew said. “Now it’s a particular gift? ‘Put some thought into it,’ you said. I did, and here we are. Exactly what Beth wanted. This is her dream, for crying out loud! You can’t go changing the rules at the eleventh hour. I beat you!”
Dino found Andrew’s outburst amusing. “Buddy, I’ll tell you what—you got spunk.” The angel gave Andrew a condescending pat on the back. “Give it some more thought. But don’t think too long. The clock’s ticking.”
The big man winked at Andrew, then turned and walked away. Andrew could barely breathe.
A stone’s throw away, the bells of St. Patrick’s began to toll the hour of nine.