Ansley: Undeserved Kindness Six Days before Christmas

EVERY YEAR WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES around, I still feel the pang of the loss of my first husband. And I still—whether I want to or not—remember that first Christmas without Carter. On December 19, 2001, ninety-nine days after September 11, ninety-nine days after my world had changed harshly, shockingly, and forever, I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t spend one more moment in the New York apartment that our family had shared together, couldn’t spend one more sleepless night feeling as if I was putting not only myself but also my children in grave danger by staying in a city that was under siege. I cried uncle.

There was this part of me that had, for three months, expected Carter to show up. Maybe he would turn up in a hospital or be discovered amidst the rubble, having survived somehow. But after ninety-nine days, the fires at ground zero were finally extinguished. And so was my hope.

My terror didn’t only extend to losing Carter. It also extended to our finances. In the wake of my husband’s death, I had discovered that our future, which had seemed so secure, was anything but. My darling husband was in a world of debt and had borrowed from his life insurance policies to keep us afloat. Yes, I had marketable interior design skills, but I hadn’t worked in more than fifteen years. I couldn’t afford to keep our apartment.

And so, on December 19, I gathered a few friends and loaded the largest size of U-Haul truck. Caroline was furious. Sloane was silent. Emerson was sobbing. But I was out of options. Out of money. Out of time. Out of faith.

And so I drove for ten straight hours, only stopping for bathroom breaks and to eat. I drove away from all my dreams, from my marriage, from my family, from my husband. I arrived in the dark of night to a house that had been closed up for years. We were exhausted, grumpy, starving, and terrified, and I was dreading what was awaiting me inside: a musty, empty house.

Ordinarily, I was the queen of Christmas. I always got a huge tree and too many presents, and hung millions of twinkle lights. A nativity that my dad had carved when I was little would sit atop the mantel, and stockings my mom had knit for each of the girls when they were born waited patiently to be filled. Every decoration, every ornament had a meaning behind it. I always got a warm and glowing feeling inside whenever I thought about Christmas.

But that year, I didn’t know what to do. How could I celebrate when my husband was gone? How could I rejoice when the world was being torn apart? How could I praise the birth of a Christ child that—at that moment—I no longer believed in? I had a ten-year-old and two teenagers who didn’t deserve to have their holiday stolen from them. But they had been left with an empty shell of a mother who couldn’t imagine finding anything to smile about, much less the joy of Christmas. I dreaded having to pick out a tree or find last-minute presents in a strange place that didn’t feel like home. I couldn’t stomach the idea of putting out cookies and milk without my husband, of greeting Santa’s offerings alone.

But when I finally pulled into the driveway of my grandmother’s house, I was surprised to see it was all lit up. It seemed warm, cozy even, from the street. A wreath adorned the front door, while fir garlands and lights swooped over the double front porches. When I opened the door, I wasn’t greeted by the smell of must and grime. Instead, I was met by the undeniably wonderful fragrance of chocolate chip cookies. Soft music was playing and, as I opened the door, my brother Scott, a globe-trotting travel writer, walked into the kitchen to hug me. I absolutely fell apart.

“You did all of this? For us?”

He shook his head and led me into the living room, where two strangers and two friends were hanging bright, shining Christmas balls on a beautiful tree that filled the front of the house with the scent of pine. Sandra and Emily, two of my best summer friends from growing up, stopped their decorating to embrace my children and me. And that was the day I met Hippie Hal and Kimmy for the very first time.

Christmas came for my family that year. The sky was falling, the world had ended, and yet it came just the same. It came because of my brother and my friends, because of dozens of kind strangers in a town that only vaguely knew us but who, despite that, wrapped gifts for my children and filled up our fridge, cleaned our dusty old windowsills and put fresh sheets from their own houses on our beds. If I live to be one hundred years old, I can’t imagine that there will ever be a moment in my life where I will feel so overwhelmingly grateful for that sort of undeserved kindness. Try as I might, it is kindness I know I will never be able to repay.

And now, eighteen years later, eighteen years after the people of this town turned my darkest hour into a bright and shining moment that resembled something like hope, this hurricane, this devastation, was my opportunity to even the score.

“Mom!” I heard from downstairs, followed by the sound of the family house’s front door slamming.

“Car!” I shouted. “I’ll be down in a second!”

“Oh my God, Mom,” she said. “The noise. This is unbelievable.”

I laughed. I was so used to it I had almost forgotten. The sounds of chain saws, hammers, power tools, and music from boom boxes all over town—not to mention constant limb, tree, and dump trucks driving down the street—were the new soundtrack of Peachtree Bluff. Yes, it could be annoying. But for me, it had become the sound of progress. For the most part, life was back to normal. The residents had returned, the stores were open, and the damage was being repaired. These few weeks had felt like a marathon. We had all rolled up our sleeves, helping where we could. And to see the way that work crews and adjusters were coming in from all over the country to help was truly humbling.

As official town decorator, I was busier than I had ever been assessing the situation of the furnishings and textiles in damaged buildings. The library and town hall were both on the waterfront, and both had had a little flooding. Fortunately, the librarians had gathered before the storm to move the books from the lower metal shelves up to the higher ones, so they hadn’t been damaged. But two sets of office furniture were soggy and moldy, and the entire building needed new flooring. As for the town hall, only the foyer had flooded, and, with its beautiful old limestone floors, it hadn’t needed much more than a good mopping and some new baseboards. But we still took the opportunity to repaint the entire thing. It had been seven years, and it was starting to look dingy despite the housekeeping crew’s meticulous work with Magic Erasers.

Kyle and Emerson had decided to stay until Christmas to help, which, at the time, I was very glad of. And, since Caroline had already planned for Vivi to do school virtually, they stayed too, which was wonderful. But, to be honest, quarters were getting tight. We had—very gallantly, I might add—agreed to wait awhile to get the work done on Jack’s house so that others who didn’t have a place to go could get in their houses first and businesses could reopen quickly. It had helped. Only a few homes were still undergoing repairs, and, by and large, the town was back in action.

But it meant that Jack and I were back in the guest room at what had once been my house, with Sloane, Adam, their two boys, and Preston. Emerson, Kyle, and Carter were staying in the guesthouse, with Vivi and Caroline joining them. In true Christmas fashion, there was no room at the inn.

At least James had hired a captain to help him get the boat back to Palm Beach as soon as Vivi and Preston were settled and was now back to work in New York. So we were down one.

I ran down the steps at top speed.

“Mom?” Caroline called impatiently, sweaty from her run.

“Have they started?” I asked.

“The excavators are here,” she said, wide-eyed.

I nodded. Much to my surprise, the Historical Association had agreed that Caroline’s house couldn’t be repaired. So Sloane and Adam were happily buying her lot. Jack, Adam, Kyle, and Hal had spent the past couple weeks salvaging every beautiful floorboard, piece of molding, and original door or casing that they could. Adam and Sloane had also inherited Ellie Mae the goat, who was getting along swimmingly with the pigs, chickens, and new kitten on Kimmy’s farm for the time being. Adam and Sloane said once their house was completed, they would bring Ellie Mae back, but I had my doubts about that.

“Oh, honey,” I said. “Are you sad about the house getting torn down?” Right then, Viv and Preston, his arms so full with Biscuit he could hardly see over the top of her fluffy head, came running in the door, the buzzer on the oven going off simultaneously. I kissed them quickly and strode to the kitchen to pull out the day’s fifth batch of cookies. Adam and Jack were holding a huge Christmas drive at Peachtree Provisions where people could come get clothes, food, presents—anything they needed, really, to make this Christmas a merry one. And you had to have Christmas cookies, right? Insurance companies hadn’t all been quick to pay on claims, so, for some Peachtree residents, this Christmas would be a strain. Hopefully a little holiday sweetness would ease some of that. My specialty was peanut butter drops with Hershey’s Kisses right on top.

“Oh, cookies!” Preston said as he followed me into the kitchen. He took two, and, as if AJ and Taylor sensed what was happening, they flew through the back door too. “Cookies!” they said at the same time.

“Wash your hands!” I shouted over the noise as three excited little boys crowded around my cooling racks.

“They’re going to start tearing the house down in a minute, guys!” Caroline said. “Want to watch?”

“Yeah!” the little chorus erupted.

Caroline shot me a smile.

“The house? Your feelings?” I repeated.

“I’m sad a piece of history is leaving our town and mad I made such a stupid mistake. Otherwise, you know, I’m kind of okay.” She crossed her arms. “So… how’s it going?” she asked breezily.

Okay. That portion of the conversation was clearly over. “I’m just thrilled that the whole family is home for Christmas. All is right with the world.” I didn’t mention that I was a tiny bit excited for December 26, when Jack and I could move into the guesthouse. Jack’s house was still a good month away from being finished.

“How are the Peachtree Sloane Emerson numbers looking?” Caroline asked.

She spent a good portion of her days on Zoom with the LA and New York stores, ordering inventory and keeping up with the books. And thank goodness. “Our walk-in revenue hasn’t been great with winter tourism down from the storm, but online sales are through the roof.” I paused and smiled at her slyly. “Mostly because a few girls I know have made such a huge deal on social media about saving Peachtree and its local businesses.”

Caroline smiled back. “People talk about the negative side of social media, but I think we’ve really been able to do some good for our town.”

I nodded, feeling so blessed. Our family hadn’t been totally spared, but we had been lucky that our businesses were able to carry on and that we had a place to go home to at night.

“I still can’t believe those fully submersible dry bags sold out first in a store that specializes in handmade antique linens and chic designer finds,” Caroline said. “Your gut was right as usual, Mom.” Fishing backpacks weren’t the norm for us, perhaps, but if there was one thing I knew, it was that the men were always the hardest recipients on my Christmas list. I had actually sourced the backpacks for Jack, Kyle, Adam, my brothers, Scott and John—who, unfortunately wouldn’t be around for the holidays this year—and yes, even James. I hated him, but he was still family. Isn’t that the way sometimes? And, with the absurdly odd type of divorce he and Caroline were having, I had no idea whether he would be here for Christmas.

I took a deep breath, watching my grandchildren inhale my homemade cookies. A peace washed over me as I realized it finally felt like Christmas. Despite the challenges this year had presented, cookies could still be enjoyed. The Christmas cottage downtown was filled with reindeer and, on the weekends, Santa. Storefronts were decorated to the nines with Christmas trains and elves who climbed ladders to chimneys, beautiful murals, and fake snow. Despite the freezing weather and blue tarps on more than a few roofs, the Christmas bazaar at the farmers’ market would take place as usual tomorrow night.

But tonight… Tonight was a night we’d all been waiting for. At least, I had. Caroline was going on a date!

I looked down at the boys and, figuring they were too young to really get what was going on, asked, “What are you going to wear?”

She rolled her eyes. “Mo-om.” She sounded so much like a teenager I couldn’t help but laugh. I was just so thrilled. I worried that James had broken Caroline’s heart so thoroughly that she could never trust in that same way again.

“Oh!” she said, putting her finger up and turning to rummage in the giant bag she called her purse but that really looked more like a suitcase. She handed me a stack of Christmas cards, which I soon realized were our Christmas cards. I gasped at the soft feel of the deckle-edge paper and at the delicate fonts. “Oh, Caroline. They are stunning.”

She smiled triumphantly. I put my hand over my heart. In those moments when the photos were snapped, there was devastation all around us. But in the simple smiles of my family members and the beauty of the water behind us, you never would have guessed it. I had to say that my favorite card of all was mine. I had chosen the photo of just my five grands. Vivi was in the middle, smiling at the camera, holding Carter on her lap, who was also smiling at the camera, and the three little boys were all laughing up at Vivi like she was the queen of the world. It was too darling for words. And while, yes, I did like to show off my beautiful daughters, this was a different year. I didn’t want to leave Kyle and Adam out of the picture, but I didn’t want Caroline to feel badly that there was no James. So five grands it was.

“Is it weird that I am so nervous?” Caroline asked. “I mean, I know it’s stupid. He lives in Peachtree. I live in New York. Even if we fall madly in love over dinner there’s no future here, which is comforting. But, like, do I even remember how to do this?”

I laughed. “Honey, you’re talking to a woman who hadn’t gone on a first date in thirty-seven years and then married the man she had met when she was fifteen and had two children with.”

She laughed too, much to my relief. I had come awfully close to saying something that resembled the truth. Fortunately, Caroline didn’t seem to catch on. My mind wandered back to that rainy night in Georgia, the night I’d never forget, when I pulled up to Jack’s house, totally unannounced, my heart beating so loudly it was all I could hear. I hadn’t been able to tell him I was coming. I needed to see his face. When he agreed to this preposterous thing I was asking, to father my children, it terrified me how comforting it felt to be in his arms, how the feel of his lips on mine still melted my heart. I had nearly forgotten, in the joy of being with him again, the desperation I had felt for years, the longing for him in the deepest parts of me, the confusion of the push and pull of being in love with two men. But he was here now; it was real. We were together in that way I had always imagined. And while, yes, there was a part of me that wished we had gotten to spend those days of our young lives together, raise a family together, I had to admit that perhaps the here and now was even better. And I would never have traded my life with Carter, even knowing what I know now.

I walked to the stove and filled a saucepan with milk. The kids would be cold while we watched the teardown. Plus, it was nearly Christmas, and we needed hot chocolate desperately. Those snowflake-shaped marshmallows weren’t going to eat themselves.

“I think it’s good for you,” I said. “Dip your toe in the water. Practice how it feels to enjoy the company of a man who isn’t James.” I looked around. “Hey, where’s Vivi?”

“Speaking of enjoying the company of a man…” Caroline said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll give you three guesses as to where Vivi is. But I’m going to bet you only need one.”

I thought of sweet Tyler, of how he’d saved my granddaughter, of how he had helped tirelessly after the hurricane to put this town back together. He was a good boy. I felt it in my bones. Probably quite a bit different from that Pond or Ocean or whomever she was interested in back in New York. She was growing up, I realized then. She was making her own way in the world, spreading her wings, separating herself from us.

The milk began to boil, and I moved it off the burner, looking back at my daughter. Jack walked through the back door, and I remembered that I had been fifteen like Vivi the summer I had met him in Peachtree Bluff. And it made me realize that you have to be careful who you date. Because, like it or not, you might just fall in love. And, if you’re anything like Jack and me, that love might last a lifetime.

He kissed my head, and then pulled the to-go cups out of the cabinet, handing them to me one by one so I could fill them and pass them out.

“All right, kiddos!” I said. “Let’s go!”

Sloane and Adam were working and Emerson and Kyle had taken Carter kayaking. So Caroline, Jack, and I each held the hand of one of my grandsons as we walked down the block. I could already hear the excavator.

A tall chain-link fence had secured the perimeter for the past couple weeks, but the mesh inset was plenty see-through for us to get a good view. As those massive jaws engulfed what was left of the roof of Caroline and James’s house, I gasped, and the boys cheered. I looked over at Caroline, whose arms were crossed. Neighbors and passersby were lined up on the street, watching the action. But I was only watching my daughter. I couldn’t quite read her face.

I took her hand in mine and squeezed.

“It’s over,” she whispered. Then she smiled. I knew then that she was actually happy to see this house go. And, maybe even more, the husband that went with it.