Love in the Lights

Standing up, I cleaned my plate in three quick bites. I put my plate in the sink then grabbed up a smaller plate from the table. A large slice of pumpkin pie, and a refill on my drink and I was heading around the dining room by the back hallway.

Emma was in what Dad had always called the comfortable corner of our living room, sitting in front of the fireplace, just staring into the fire. She looked so very sad, her plate there beside her the food looking hardly touched. I could see in her the same reluctance that had kept me from the dining room. No desire to be around a large crowd of people that didn't seem to share your pain as fully. She looked up at me when I came in, smiled, but said nothing. I put down my plate and went to the stereo nearby. This time of year there was a local station that constantly played holiday music. I left the music playing softly and went to add another log to the fire.

The crackle of the new wood and the sound of Bing Crosby singing didn't completely drown out the noise from the dining room, but it did mute it. I sat down next to her. She looked over, gave me a tired smile then went to looking at the fire. The new wood sent out tiny, blue puffs of flame.

"A sad year, all around," she said softly.

"Yeah," I answered just as softly. As if to bring too much noise into this room was some how wrong.

"You know Tom and I weren't much older than you when we met. The years seemed to run by so very slowly back then. Now they seem almost to fly. It feel like it was just yesterday that Tom and your dad were arguing over who had the tallest decorated Christmas tree." I nodded, remembering last year. "We thought, even last year, we had so much time ahead of us. Decades still to spend together."

The look on her face tore my heart.

"Time just takes everything away. Throws all your plans for living someplace warmer, once we got older, into the trash. Crumples up carefully planned dreams like they were so much blank paper." Emma look over at my face. "I remember when we your age, oh we thought we would live forever. Time takes that away too. It took my Tom from me, and your dad from you and it didn't even care how badly it hurt us." She sighed and looked back to the fire. "It will take me one day too.

Hearing her say that ripped the tear, breaking my heart.

"No time soon," I tried to assure her.

She picked up her tea from beside her and looked into the depths of her cup as if to read her future in the leaves.

"No, probably not. The women in my family live well into their eighties, for the most part. That's about thirty more years." I thought that had brightened her up a bit till I heard the soft, feathery whisper. "Alone"

I got up from my seat by the hearth, and knelt down on the floor in front of her. I took her hands in mine. Her hands felt cold, so I tried to give my warmth to her fingers.

"You are far too beautiful and wonderful a woman to spend all that time alone. You will find someone, Emma. And they will love you with all of their heart." Even as I said those words I knew in my own heart that I wanted that person to be me.

She chuckled ruefully.

"Tim, I'm a fifty year old, going gray widow. I can't drive a car. I haven't held a job since before you were born. What I once did has been replaced by a computer I don't know how to use." She shook her head and reaching out brushed a lock of hair back behind my ear. "You need a haircut." She must have seen in my eyes I wasn't going to let her change the subject. She sighed. "Oh, I have Tom's pension money to live on and some money we were putting away to buy a little place in Florida for when he retired. I'm not anything like rich. The house, luckily, was just paid off but other than that I don't really have anything going for me that would attract a man."

Her eyes dropped to the middle of my chest, and a single tear rolled across her cheek.

"Nonsense. You have a wonderful laugh." I tightened my fingers on her hand and she looked back up at me. "You have a beautiful eyes and an incredibly sweet smile."

She started to make a face expressing doubt, but I spoke again before she could.

"You still have Mr. Jackson's car. You can learn to drive it. If my fool-self learned at sixteen I know that you can. And I know that you could work any job where it's something you already know how to do, and from what I've seen that's a lot."

She went to speak but again I didn't give her the chance.

"You look great in a bathing suit." Her eyebrows popped up towards her hair line and her cheeks flushed with a bit of color. I dropped my voice lower. "And from what I remember you look great without one too."

She looked down, blushing scarlet, but I saw just a hint of a smile grace her lips.

Letting go of her hand, I reached over to where I had been sitting by the hearth and picked up my plate.

"And to top it all..." She looked up at me, that slight smile playing at her lips. I grinned at her. "You make incredible pumpkin pie."

She burst into laughter, as I picked up the last bite. She reached over and lightly popped my shoulder, even as she continued to laugh.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Two of Bill's step-kids, the boys, came in at that moment, and Roger immediately grabbed the remote from the table. He turned on the new TV that Grandpa had bought for Mom. It was too big and heavy for her to throw out the window like the old one. The kid then turned the volume up over the radio and began to flip channels.

After exchanging a look, we got up, abandoning the living room to the kids.

I stopped and turned off the radio on my way out. The girls came rushing past me at the door, and when I looked back the smug look Roger was giving me just about cost him a trip through that front window. I was still in an inner boil when I got to the kitchen. Emma and Mom were putting away food. Seeing a need, I took on the job of loading the dishwasher after first rinsing the dishes in the sink. By the time I had the dishwasher almost loaded, I looked around and all the food was put away. How they got it all in the refrigerator I don't know, but I think crowbars and maybe shoehorns were involved.

Bill's wife came in then asking about where our extra sheets were kept. Thus diverted, Mom took off on a wild linen chase leaving Emma and myself in the kitchen alone. I found myself watching Emma tightening the three liter soda bottles and putting them back in the pantry closet. It amazed me how, in her hands simple tasks became like watching a stage play. I locked down the washer and set it to running. Then wiping the sink and counter dry, I was leaned back against the dishwasher feeling the heat in my lower back, when Mom came walking back in looking harangued. She gave the kitchen a quick look around.

"Good enough, thank you both," said Mom looking around. "Anything else...can keep till morning."

Emma smiled, and wiped her hands on the dish rag I had been using to dry the counter. "Hun, I'm going to get out of your hair. One less person under this roof would do you a world of good."

Mom, looking at wit's end, fished a bar stool out from under the island and had a seat.

"Emma, thank you for all your help today."

"Oh, poo. It's been my pleasure. Thank you for inviting me over to dinner. Everything was wonderful." She gave Mom's shoulder a soft pat.

"Of course it was Emma. You fixed half of it!" said Mom with a tired smile.

At that moment I heard Roger yell for his mother. Mom flinched and my teeth ground together. No yelling or running inside the house had been the rule my whole life. Dad had always enforced it, no matter whose house we were at. Uncle Bill knew about this rule, but it seemed he wasn't going to make his kids obey it. Mom, being the polite host, didn't want to come down on his kids. I thought about saying something, but knew it wouldn't stop at just that. There was no way I could keep my temper. Not this year.

No, not this year. So I just bit my tongue and stayed silent.

Emma watched us for a second, and then moved to the cabinet next to the fridge. She got out what she was looking for and, coming back to the island, sat three shot glasses down. She filled each right to the top with double shot of dark rum.

Dad's drink of choice, I thought as I picked up my glass.

I have never in my life seen my mom drink alcohol straight, but she tossed back that shot like it was water. I watched Emma do the same, and then I was doing my best not to choke to death on the sweet, fiery liquid.

Emma hugged Mom tight.

"Good night, hun. Try and get some rest." She turned to look at me. "I'll leave the door unlocked so you can..."

"I'm coming with you. Let me get your coat." I headed for the hall way.

Mom looked up from her empty shot glass. "Get your own as well, young man. There's already about a foot of snow out there."

I heard the bottle tap glass behind me as I left the kitchen.

Gathering our coats from the blanket press, I also grabbed one of the big umbrellas. Thsi time of year the snow is nearly as wet as rain. Looking into the den I saw that Grandma was asleep in the soft chair. Walking over to her I didn't wake her, but placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. Grandpa had the radio on and had turned it up louder than the TV in the next room. He looked up at me and smiled when I stopped by him.

"Where you headed, Tim?" he asked.

"I'm staying across the street, while I'm here. The house is a bit crowded and Mrs. Emma offered me her spare bedroom," I told him as I shifted coats and umbrella to take the hand he held out to me.

"Well, have a...good...night." He winked at me. Then his face split into a grin that I had to return.

Returning towards the kitchen, I stopped and diverted when I saw Mom and Emma by the front door. I held out her coat for her to slip into. For a second my hands rested lightly on her shoulders, and then I was struggling into my jacket. Stepping out onto the porch, the cold rush of air a shock, I shook out the umbrella as I looked at the yard. Mom hadn't exaggerated by much. There was nearly a foot already on the yard and more was coming down fast.

Mom told us goodnight, and we started across the street. Emma walked close to me under the umbrella, holding tight to my arm as the driveway and street were already getting slick with ice. When we got to her porch, I saw the front lights of my house flash, then go out as Mom closed the front door and shut them off. How very dark it looked without its normal seasonal blaze of colored bulbs.

But then so did Emma's house.

She unlocked the front door as quickly as she could and we got inside. I left the umbrella in the stand by the door and hung my jacket next to Emma's coat. The snow flakes on the shoulders of both were already starting to vanish.

"God, my hands are frozen." She rubbed her arms and headed for the kitchen. "I have coffee, tea, or hot chocolate? Take your pick."

"The coffee sounds good. Want me to get a fire going?" I asked pointing into the living room.

"Oh, would you? That sounds wonderful. Take the chill out the house." She frowned then. "I haven't restocked the wood bin. The wood is still out back."

"I know where it is. I'll get it," I told her.

Going to the back porch, I got a large arm load of wood from the stack, carried it in and put it next to the fire place. Then I went back for another arm load. I knelt by the fireplace and got a fire started. I opened the flue wider, and it didn't take long for it to become a nice cheery blaze. Emma came in carrying a tray of cups, sugar dish, and creamer. There was a small table by her fireplace she sat this on.

"I'm going to go get my flannel pajamas on. Even in that short walk, the cold has gotten into my bones tonight." She headed up stairs.

I took a sip of my coffee, and after I was sure the fire was going good, went upstairs myself. In my room I pulled out a pair of comfortable sweat pants and a soft, long-sleeve T-shirt. Ducking into the bathroom with my travel kit, I brushed away the last of dinner, put my toothbrush away then headed back down stairs.

Emma was curled up on one corner of the couch, sipping what smelled like chai spice tea. She was in a red and brown, checkered, flannel nightgown and robe.

"Wondered where you went to." She slipped her feet out of her soft house shoes, tucked her feet under her robe, and then pulled them up under herself.

Getting my coffee, I looked around and decided on a spot. I sat down on the carpeted floor in front of her and leaned my back against the arm of the couch. After a moment, I felt her feet move till they were against my back. With half-closed eyes I sipped at my coffee, feeling the heat of the fire on my face. Then I felt her fingers brush my hair.

"I wasn't kidding earlier, by the way. You do need a haircut." Her fingers idly lifted my hair and let it fall back, then did it again.

I chuckled. "I keep forgetting to stop and get one. I had one right before Dad's funeral."

"I remember. You looked so handsome in your suit that day." I felt Emma shiver against my back. "I can almost still hear those guns."

Dad had received a full military funeral. His coffin full of pictures got a gun salute. It wasn't so much that I could hear them as sometimes I almost thought I could smell them. That gun powder smell of cordite, like strike-anywhere matches, had been carried on the wind that day right into my face. I had been breathing it as I listened to that low, haunting music as his flag was folded.

"Yeah, me too." Turning, I looked at her and smiled ruefully. "Like you said, sad year."

She nodded, sipping at her tea. After a second I saw her bite the corner of her lip a bit. "If you'll pardon me being nosy, I noticed that you and your step-cousins don't talk much."

"Yeah..." I shrugged. "I can't say I know them well, and I'm not really inclined to get to know them. I met them for the first time at Dad's funeral. Over heard the oldest one, Roger, make a snide comment about how he thought it was stupid to bury an empty casket. I had met their mother before then, but she has always been so nose-in-the-air about everything. Like she's from such a better class of people than we are. I have noticed, that ever since they were married, Uncle Bill has been hanging around Grandma and Grandpa a lot more often."

Emma sighed.

"Of course. Especially now, with your father gone, he's set to inherit the lion's share." Emma set her cup down. "I try not to get involved in other people's family business, but I've told your mother it's not right. I know, from conversations I had with your dad years ago, that his brother almost never went round to see their parents. You father was always the one having to go help them with anything."

"Exactly. And no, it's not right." Shaking my head I sipped at my coffee. It was starting to cool. "I don't like to say too much, since it will just get thrown into my face that Grandpa paid for most of my college tuition."

Emma smiled then

"I've talked with your grandfather. He probably won't tell you, but he is incredibly proud of you. Of your grades! They got you into that college. His money may have helped pay for it, but all of his money couldn't have put you there... if you hadn't had the grades you did. He said he would have paid twice what he paid for your tuition."

I didn't know what to say to that. I sat back quietly, looking at the fire for a bit. When I turned my head, I noticed she was looking at me. When I looked around she grinned.

"So, are all the girls at school chasing after you?" She smiled that naughty smile of hers. The one I had first seen on the beach, years ago, when she flashed me.

After a moment, I shook my head. "No. Not really."

"What? Why not? With that hair and those pretty eyes they should be." She looked puzzled.

I shrugged.

"It's the same story as when I was in high school. I just don't seem to have a lot in common with my own generation. I don't like the music much, and a lot of the college kids just seem to be there to be seen. They all want to be part of a group. If you're not part of this sorority, that club, that fraternity, or 'their' political party then they don't really have a lot of interest in you."

She nodded.

"Some of that could be our fault." At my raised eyebrow she smiled. " Your not fitting in. We dragged you around with us everywhere we went for so many years, you didn't really have a lot of time around people your own age."

I shook my head.

"I can't complain. Other than the madness around Christmas time, I had a normal enough childhood. Now that Dad is gone, I even miss that. So no complaints." I finished the last sip of my coffee, now quite cool.

She picked up her cup and took the last sips of her tea. When she put it back down she absently brushed my hair back from my eyes.

"I can't recall seeing a girl at your house when you were in high school either. What's the matter, Tim? Don't you like girls?" she teased, grinning.

"No," I said.

Her eyes opened wide.

"I like women."

She smiled. "Oh, good answer." She lifted her eyebrow. "Well? Have there been a lot of... women? Or am I prying?"

I shook my head. "No, you're not prying, and no there haven't been."

She tilted her head a little. "No girlfriend at college, no girls at high school and no women..." I saw her eyes suddenly catch light. "Oh, my! You're a virgin aren't you?"

I looked away. I could feel my ears redden.

She tapped me on the shoulder, and I reluctantly turned to face her.

"Oh, Tim... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so nosy. I didn't mean to embarrass you. You don't need to be embarrassed though. There is no rush. Most people want to be rid of their virginity like it's a terminal thing. As if they don't have sex before they are twenty they might explode or some silly thing. The time will come, and believe me, the first woman you are with... will love you for it. She will know that no matter how many women you're with in your life, she will always be remembered."

Emma's fingers brushed the side of my face. I had to fight not to lean my head into her hand.

Swinging her legs to the side of me, she got to her feet. I got a wonderful view of long pale legs when her gown slid to one side.

"I want more tea. Would you like more coffee?"

"Please."

Taking my cup, she pointed to the couch. "Keep my seat warm."

I moved up onto the couch, the cushion radiating a soft warmth. I watched the fire crackling its way down. It had a good bed of coals now, that gave off plenty of heat but not a lot of light. My mind on a million thoughts, but empty at the same time, I listened to her in the kitchen. The distant clinks of metal on glass. Then after a moment, silence.

When Emma came back, she had a blanket and the two cups in hand. She turned off the hall light with her elbow, leaving the living room lit only by the fire and a small lamp in the corner. I was about to move when she stopped me. She put the cups on the table next to me then sat herself down on the other end of the short couch. Facing towards me, she draped the blanket across her legs. When she was settled I handed her the cup of tea. She smiled, and took a sip, and then I felt her burrowing her feet in against my side. Her face, with that soft smile, half-lit by the fire, took on a nymph-like quality. The fire made her eyes almost shine.

"Well, I've pried into your private life enough for the moment. It's your turn I guess." I must have looked shocked because she giggled.

"How do you mean that?" I asked.

She shrugged. "If you have any questions ask away. If you haven't learned by now, I have no shame."

I pondered that for a second. "Really? Anything?"

She nodded.

"When did you give away your virginity?"

She shook her head. "Oh, you would have to ask me that. Now I'm going to sound like a hypocrite for telling you it's okay to wait." She took a sip of her tea. "First, you need to understand something. When I was in my teens I wasn't considered a child. My older sister was married at fourteen. She had two kids before she was eighteen." Emma sighed. "I was fifteen, and looking for a husband. I thought I had found him. I was wrong. He was just a guy, after what all guys want. Oh, he told me hew loved me and would always be with me. He said he wanted to marry me and would just as soon as he could afford to buy the ring." She shook her head. "I believed him, and one night in the backseat of his father's car I gave away what I shouldn't have given to him."