Landslide (64 page)

“No, not this time…you watch and remember this.”

“Should Mr. Jerry be taking pictures?”

“Absolutely.”

“‘Cause they’re kissing happily ever after?”

“No, princess, it’s not time for happily ever after…this kiss is just the beginning.”

Epilogue

“Landslide”

—Lola—

“Don’t be nervous. Remember, you’ve been doing stuff like this for
years
…”

“I know, Alec, but this is different. It has to be
perfect
.”

“Lola, it will be.”

“Did you get the computer and projector hooked up right? Did you test them? The slideshow has to be per—”

“Perfect. I know. I checked it twice.”

I giggle at him. “You really
are
a descendant of Santa, aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes and pulls at the red felt collar of his elf costume, making the bells sewn onto each pointy tip jingle. “Yeah, yeah. I can’t believe you talked me into this though.”

“You’re a trooper and I love you for doing this for me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m doing it
because
you love me. Or, I mean…because I love you. Whatever. You know what I mean. You think I should take my glasses off though?”

“You can’t see without them, so I’m gonna say no.”

“But I don’t think elves wear glasses, do they?”

“I don’t think they wear braces either and you’re certainly not taking those off.”

“True.”

“Oh! Did you get the song matched up with the pictures? That has—”

“It’s perfect too. And my grandpa is coming straight from The Village after the last kid. He’s texting me when he leaves so we’ll have at least a five minute heads up.”

I nod and try to not focus on the nervous butterflies jetting around like kamikaze pilots in my stomach. My gaze roams over the hospital cafeteria and all the little ones in gowns and wheelchairs with their families standing or sitting beside them.
 

“Where’s the bag of teddy bears for the ones who can’t leave their room? We have to make sure we grab that when we take your grandpa around to their rooms afterwards.”

“It’s right underneath the table that the projector is on. Relax,” he tells me and reaches for my head, “Here, lemme fix your hat. The jingle bell keeps pulling it backwards.”

“Do you think they’ll like it?”

“Who? The kids or your parents?”

“Um—well, all of ‘em, I guess.”

“Yeah. I think they’re gonna love it. The kids might not get it as much as they would
’Twas the Night Before Christmas
, but your mom, she’s totally gonna cry. And maybe your dad. Unless he’s staring me down like he usually is.”

A smile spreads across my face. My dad loves Alec, although he’s never quite gotten over hearing that I’ve seen Alec naked already.
And
, we’ve never been allowed to be alone together since then but, we don’t mind. Sometimes you do what you have to do to give the people you love peace of mind.
 

“Lola, there they are. You ready?”

My Uncle Payton leads the way holding onto his partner’s hand and wearing my eight-month-old brother on his chest in a baby sling. I watch my dad wheel Erica into the cafeteria and my tumultuous stomach settles. She’s getting huge. Finally.
 

In a small, intimate ceremony at the nursing home my great grandma spent her last days in, and surrounded by close friends and our family, my parents were pronounced husband and wife at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve two weeks after I met Erica. That way their marriage symbolizes one eternal moment—when the past, present, and future join together for a split second and time stands still; and every year their anniversary celebrates their endless love, yes, but also, it honors time. Shortly after their wedding, though, they learned the life they’d been hoping was growing inside Erica wasn’t to be. It was a letdown, but they weren’t discouraged—not initially. For years they tried to have a baby of their own. Not that they weren’t happy or satisfied with me; they just wanted to experience every stage of parenthood together. They just couldn’t get pregnant no matter what they did. It just wasn’t in the cards for them it seemed and they settled for adopting.

A runaway pregnant teen chose them to be her unborn baby’s parents and even though they didn’t get to go through quite everything like they wanted, they got be in the room when my brother was born. My dad even got to cut the umbilical cord. They used both Payton’s and my biological father’s middle names to name him. Hunter Glen. Almost as soon as the ink was dry on his birth certificate though, Erica started getting sick. Then she missed a period for the first time in her life. At about sixteen or seventeen weeks into her pregnancy however, she went into pre-term labor, started to dilate, and then she started bleeding. It was the scariest few days of all our lives. The doctors were preparing us for the worst, but that baby…man, he or she is a tenacious little thing. Erica’s been on bed-rest here in the hospital for over three months now, she’s dilated about four centimeters, and she has roughly four weeks to get through before it’s totally safe for her to give birth to her first baby.

It hasn’t been a cakewalk in the least. For anyone really. My dad has been beyond worried sick, but he can’t tell or even hint to Erica how stressed and scared he is because it wouldn’t be good for her or the baby. He’s had to put on as convincing an act as he possibly can, like the rest of us have to, and he’s had to be a full-time, single dad again. Payton, my grandpa, Amelia, and I help as much as we’re able to, although there’s absolutely nothing we can do to ease his fears. It’s hard; we all share them. However difficult it’s been though, it’s so worth it to see Erica and what growing a life is doing to her. She’s our reward.

And right now, our reward is
glowing
.

Alec nudges me and clears his throat as my family claims their reserved seats.

I meet his eyes and decisively nod as I blow out a breath.

You can do this…

Alec leans to whisper good luck in my ear, and then he goes to hug me. His arms fall away though as another throat is cleared and we hear my dad’s brusque, one-word warning. “Hands.”

Alec and I settle for winking at each other and smiling before we both take our seats facing the room. I breathe deeply once more and put on a smile before diving into my Christmas story intro. that I’ve used every year since I started reading to the sick and injured kids in the hospital here. Normally I read to them on Christmas Eve, but not this year. This year I bumped it up.
 

“Merry Christmas, everyone! Who here is excited to see Santa in a few minutes?!”

Whoops and woots aplenty along with clapping and returned wishes for a Merry Christmas fills the cafeteria.

“I see a lot of familiar faces here today and others that aren’t, so for those who don’t know me, lemme introduce myself really quick and tell you a little bit about why I do this…”

I tell them my name, a little bit about my family and how my birth parents are no longer with us. I explain how I love to read and that my Uncle Payton was the one who gave me my first book, that it came all the way from Italy where he was living at the time, and it’s now hanging in a frame on my bedroom wall…the same bedroom wall that he painted for me ten years ago; I haven’t changed a thing. I tell them that ever since I had surgery, I’ve wanted to give back to the hospital’s children’s unit in some way, but it was Erica, my mom, who’s been the biggest source of inspiration and has become someone I can only hope to aspire to be like. She helped me organize my first Halloween toy drive, and every year instead of birthday presents for myself, I ask my friends and family to donate money and books to Wounded Warriors. It’s been incredible to be able to give back to my community and families of soldiers, but knowing how much I personally love reading and hearing stories, my dad suggested doing what Erica used to do—reading to kids. So I started doing that too, in the hospital, in schools, and the library. Then three years ago when I was helping Santa hand out candy canes at The Village one day, a little boy asked me for two of them; he said his sister was in the hospital and couldn’t be there. It occurred to me then that there were probably a whole bunch of kids who were missing out because they were stuck here for one reason or another, so I decided to make sure they got a story like everyone else and a special Christmas Eve visit from Santa Claus.

I finish my rehearsed speech and then tell them how this year is different…

“This year I’m doing something a little different though. I’m going to tell you all a different kind of Christmas story, but first, let’s start by you guys telling me some of your favorite Christmas songs…”

A cacophony of small voices rises up, all proclaiming well known titles, many of them classics. I nod and agree and then when they quiet down again, I explain, “Those are all wonderful songs, but you know what my favorite Christmas song is? It’s called ‘Landslide’ and it’s by Fleetwood Mac. Now, most of you probably have never even heard of it before and it’s technically
not
a Christmas song, but it is to me. And here’s why…”

I look over at Alec and give him a quick nod, telling him it’s time to start the slideshow of pictures that’s perfectly timed to my song. My dad gives me a wink, thinking he knows what’s coming but he doesn’t. He and my grandpa helped me gather pictures of our family from over the course of ten years; however, Payton and I had already cooked up something on the sly. I scrounged through boxes and boxes in my grandpa’s basement looking for pictures of Erica and my dad from when they were young. There weren’t many, but I did find some in my dad’s high school yearbook and in my other father’s box of belongings. I combined what I found with scanned pictures off my parents’ picture quilt that my great grandmother made for them. Then Payton drove hundreds of miles to a campsite he’d only ever heard about and dug up a seventeen-year-old tackle-box; it’s now wrapped and underneath our Christmas tree at home. All the pictures Payton and I unearthed are what everyone will see set to music…to a song that encapsulates what my parents went through to be together forever; my mom especially. The pictures and song will tell my mom and dad’s love story for me—the start of what has become and will continue to be my whole family’s happy ending. And then I’ll conclude the story with the telling them about that beginning kiss pictured at the very end.

Taking another breath and looking into my mom’s adoring eyes, I begin…

“My mom and dad like to think that it was my birth father, Holden, who brought them together and gave them the opportunity…the gift really, to find what everyone who has ever seen them together knows to be true love. But while I don’t doubt he had a hand in it, I credit someone else. One of the very few people truly capable of making dreams and wishes come true. Now some people don’t believe in Santa Claus, thinking his magic is just a bedtime story told to children on Christmas Eve, but I know different. I prayed, wished, and asked him year after year for only one thing.

“Well, real or not real, magic or no magic, Santa came through one year—ten years ago today as a matter of fact—and he gave me the best Christmas gift I’ve ever had or could wish for. There were no shiny bows, sparkly ribbons, or pretty paper on it…after all, nothing can outshine the smile of my mom, the woman who loves my dad with her every breath, body and soul. But my mom didn’t know what Santa had planned for her, he needed to tell her some way, and Santa still had to somehow deliver his gift, so instead of writing her a letter and putting it in a box on his sleigh, Santa’s gift to me…the gift of someone who would love my dad happily ever after…well, it came wrapped within a blanket of memories, my dad’s eternal love for my mom, and, snow from a landslide…”

The
Happily
—
Ever
—
After End

Legit Heroes

While the story contained in Landslide is fictional, PTSD is
real
. And sadly, many of our soldiers come home physically disabled as well as with far more damage than what can be seen with the naked eye, which afffects not only their lives, but their families’ lives as well. Therefore I would like to ask you to please take this time to remember these selfless individuals in your prayers, support them wherever possible in every way, and if you are able to, please consider donating to
Wounded Warrior Project
.

Although this book is not meant to focus on military life or the struggles that those families endure, I did want to call some attention to it after having had stories, experiences, and repercussions shared with me by friends I feel exceedingly blessed to personally know, as well as by my uncle who served as a US Army Special Forces Airborne Green Beret in Vietnam, my husband’s uncle who served in the US Air Force during Vietnam, and my husband’s grandfather who served in the US Marine Corps during World War II and fought in the battle of Okinawa.

On a personal note, I’d just like to say to the soldiers, their spouses and families, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, and, God bless.