The afternoon lapsed into a brilliant evening, all of us sitting around the table enjoying roasted lamb chops, vegetables, salad, and, of course, Rose’s peanut butter fudge. It seemed as if, for the first time in my life, time was actually standing still, with no intrusions and nothing to upset the delicate balance of my happiness.
As evening waned, we laughed and talked, our conversation turning and returning, it seemed, to the wonder and mystery of love—which was only fitting. We stayed on through the evening, all of us bathed in pale light and excess calories, our energies piqued with eggnog and fruit cake. David entertained us with his rendition of Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. Silvia amazed us with small facts and figures of Christmases past. Rose reminisced about my parents, noted how the house had changed since she had last sat around the fireplace or held me in her arms when I was a baby. Lance at last regaled us with his exploits on the police force.
“That’s the thing I like about you two,” Silvia said to Lance. “You and Mary are the perfect complement to each other. I have a feeling that, working together, the two of you can get to the bottom of anything.”
Outside, the neighborhood lights appeared as pin points of light in the gloom. A persistent wind scoured the windows. The fire inside continued to crackle. Lance was sitting next to me on the couch, holding my hand, warming me with his touch.
Rose wondered about the future. “So, how can I help you two make a go of this marriage business? You can’t both be dealing in death all the time. You’ll go loony. You’ve got to strike a balance.”
“You’re already helping more than you know,” I told Rose. “I’ve been without a secretary for over a year. A burden has been lifted. Thank you!”
“Promise me you’ll let me help,” Rose said.
“I will,” I answered. I meant it . . . or wanted to mean it. Lance squeezed my hand.
“I wish I could do more than eat pie,” David said. “You know I would help out at the funeral home whenever you need me. I can always drive the hearse, and I’m only drunk on the weekends.”
Silvia assured me that she was always willing to provide information. “I’m no investigator,” she said, “but sometimes I think I know more than I should. If it’s digging you need . . . .”
“Well then, it’s settled,” Rose said. “Lance and Mary can have their time to make plans. We’ll handle the business for awhile.”
I smiled at the thought of so much love, but knew in my heart that the good intentions would not be enough to shield us from the harsh realities of death. Lance would have his dark days, I would have mine, and somewhere in the mix we would have to meet in the middle. Lance knew it, too.
Although everyone wanted to leave earlier in the evening, I would not allow it. There was nothing like friendship to lengthen a day and I didn’t want this Christmas to end. But as the evening pressed on toward midnight I could tell that Rose, most of all, was showing the strain of weariness and wine. David volunteered to take her home. Lance spread the hot coals across the hearth and Silvia gathered up food in the kitchen and stowed it away in the refrigerator. The day wound to a close.
“Merry Christmas,” Lance said as he hugged each of my friends in succession as they exited the house, the air now so cold that it immediately crystallized on the windows when the door was opened. “Stay warm out there and drive carefully.”
And then we were alone. I turned out the lights in the living room, blew out the candles. And then Lance gathered me into his arms and escorted me upstairs to the bedroom. “There’s still some day left,” he said, his face showing he hoped that I would agree.
Standing next to the bed, Lance became breathless, all of his remaining energies focused on me as he tugged and pulled at my clothes, his hands plying my breasts, over me, inside me. I relaxed, swept up in his passion as he placed me on the bed and whispered time and again of his love, each new move stirring me toward a crescendo.
I didn’t want to hold back anything—not now. And every time Lance expressed himself in some bold topography, I countered with contours of my own, our bodies entwined or fighting for release, our hearts pounding against each other as we leapt, breathless, into each other time and again.
When, at last, we had ushered out Christmas and rolled into a new day, we fell headlong into a deep sleep, not knowing where one day had ended and another began. I was dreaming of Lance, I know, as I parted ways with Christmas and fantasized about the way it would be when, at last, our lives would mesh into the one beautiful whole. And I was still dreaming of Lance when I awoke with a start at five a.m. to discover that he was no longer beside me, just a note on the nightstand, reminding me that he had been called back to duty on our warmest, and the coldest, night of the year.