The Christmas Promise

The scream echoed through the whole house, followed by uncontrollable laughter.

“This isn’t fair!” Alison cried. “Someone needs to help me!”

Instead her entire family – her husband and both kids – doubled up on the sofa laughing as she lunged, clueless around the house. Alison jerked open cupboard doors, kitchen drawers, and every bedroom closet. She looked in the attic, the china cabinet, and the microwave. Finally, she settled into her favorite recliner, just in front of the tree, and propped her feet up.

“I surrender,” she said, exhausted.

“Aw, you didn’t even make it to fifteen minutes,” her husband, David, teased.

“Yeah, mom,” her daughter Marie added, “you should’ve taken all fifteen minutes to try and find your gift.”

“What’s the use?” Alison asked. She laid her head back and stared at the twinkling colored lights on the tree. “Either your father has been diabolical in hiding my present, or he hasn’t even bought it yet and just wanted to tease me.”

David’s laugh bruised the walls. Alison looked over at him, eyes savage.

“You haven’t even bought it yet, have you!” she accused. “You made me run all over this silly house for nothing!”

David’s cheeks burned red, and the tears streaming from his eyes didn’t change that. Alison threw her head back and smacked it on the top of the chair back.

“Ow,” she muttered.

David rose and walked over to his wife, holding his side. She glared at him before turning away. David raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Alison, I promise,” he said, putting his hand over his heart, “I have bought your gift. And it’s not hidden anywhere devious – in fact, when you find it, you won’t believe it took you so long.”

Alison didn’t move. “You promise?”

David kissed her forehead. “I swear. Ranger’s honor.”

She spun quickly, catching him off guard, pulling him into an embrace before he could react. David fell into the chair on top of her, and they burst into more laughter. The kids cheered wildly while their parents hugged. The moment was too sweet to end, but it did. David hugged Marie and kissed her cheek, then watched as her mother escorted her into her room. David turned to Eric.

“Bed,” he commanded. Eric obeyed.

David tucked the covers around his son, and lightly kissed him on the forehead.

Prayers, dad?” Eric prompted.

“Okay,” David said, “prayers. You want to lead them?”

“No, I want to hear you pray before you go.”

David smiled. “Not a problem.”

The pair bowed their heads as David began.

“Dear God, you know that we are full of anxiety tonight, waiting for tomorrow morning. Help us to sleep well, and be ready for the excitement and emotion tomorrow will bring. We trust you to keep us safe and to always be there for us. Amen.”

“Amen,” Eric repeated. He opened his eyes. “Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“You are going to take me and Marie with you tomorrow morning, right? You’re not going to leave without saying goodbye, right?”

“No, Eric, I won’t do that. You and your sister will be with me right up until the door on the plane closes.”

“Promise, dad?” Eric said.

David sat down on his son’s bed.

“Eric, I promise, we’ll all go to the base together tomorrow morning. You’ll get to see me off this time.”

Eric hugged his father. “Good,” he said.

David let the embrace linger, running his hands through his son’s straw hair.

“Good night, son,” he whispered. “Remember, I love you.”

“I love you too, dad,” Eric whispered back.

David stood and turned out the light, stepping into the hall while pulling the door closed. Alison was doing the same with Marie’s door. From inside the room came Marie’s voice.

“Don’t forget to wake us, Daddy!”

David smiled. “I won’t! Now go to sleep!”

“Yes sir!”

Then silence. Neither kid made a noise. The two weary parents made their way to the master bedroom.

David’s bags were already packed and resting beside the door. His uniform waited for him on his favorite chair, in the corner by the window that looked out on their postage stamp backyard. David fell back on the bed, Alison beside him.

“What’re you thinking about, soldier?” she asked.

“Home. Work. The fact that I can’t be both places at the same time.” He rolled to his side and propped up on one elbow. “I’ll miss you and the kids.”

“I know,” she said, tracing her hand along his collarbone. “We’ll miss you too.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed it. She smiled.

“This is the last one, right?” she asked. “No more after this one?”

David held her hand over his heart. “I promise: once this tour in Afghanistan is over, I’m retiring from active duty. The Army won’t be able to tell me what to do anymore.”

Alison laughed. “But I will.”

David laughed, a loud burst of noise that Alison secretly loved. She pulled him close and he nestled in her arms.

“Yes ma’am – once Uncle Sam is through with me, you will have the final say over what this old soldier does. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They lay there in one another’s arms for minutes, the silence punctuated by the slow ticking of the antique mantel clock. David kissed Alison on the neck and stood. He walked to the bathroom and began brushing his teeth, the beginning of his nightly ritual. Alison waited until he was finished.

“David?”

“Yes?” he answered, wrapping floss around his fingers.

“What if…” She trailed off.

“Alison, you know the rule.”

She nodded. “No playing the ‘What If’ game the night before you deploy. I know.”

David nodded and began flossing. Alison stood and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his trim waist.

“You’re going to come home to me, right? Just like every other time?”

David looked at Alison in the mirror, her eyes full of sadness and fear. He put the floss down and put his arms around her. She deflated until she merged with his chest, warm and safe in his arms.

“Yes. Just like every other time. And when I do, it will all be over.”

They stayed in the embrace for a moment, David’s chin resting atop her head, Alison breathing the contented breath of a happy wife. She broke the hold and went back to bed while David finished flossing. When he left the bathroom, she had already turned off the lights and pulled the covers to her chin. David slipped between the sheets and snuggled next to her. His eyes closed without effort.

“David?”

He opened his eyes in the darkness. “Hmmmm?”

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

David yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “Anything.”

“Where did you hide my ring?”

The soldier chuckled and ran his hand through his wife’s hair. She rolled over, and imagined his face through the darkness, smiling.

“I’m serious. Where did you hide it?”

“And I’m serious,” he said, kissing her. “I’m not telling you until Christmas.”

“But you won’t even be here!”

“I have my ways. Trust me. Now go to sleep – we have to get up early.”

Alison settled back down and pushed herself into her husband’s arms. Listening to his steady breathing, she heard confidence and peace. She let it wash over her until she fell asleep too.

*****

Twelve days after David’s deployment, Alison was buzzing around the house, looking for her ring, when the phone rang. She grabbed the handset as she whisked past it in the family room.

“Hello,” she sang.

“Mrs. Collins?”

Alison stopped. Her heart seized.

“Is this Mrs. Collins?” the voice on the line asked again.

“Yes, this is Alison Collins.”

“Mrs. Collins, this is Lieutenant Colonel James Hardy. I’m – ma’am, I’m calling about your husband, David. You’ll need to sit down.”

Alison didn’t want to sit down. She wanted to die. Her head immediately filled with David’s face, his arms, his smell. David in uniform; David with the kids; David wiping a blob of icing off her cheek when she had eaten too much of her own birthday cake. She drowned in his memory, trying to find every piece, every scrap of thought she’d ever had about him and bring it to mind.

The army officer continued the phone call, but she only half heard it: Improvised explosive device. Surprise roadside attack. Multiple casualties. Missing in action. Presumed dead. Presumed dead.

The Army thought her husband was dead.

“You broke your promise,” she whispered to David, wherever he was. “You said you’d come home, and now you won’t.”

Alison sank into a chair in the kitchen.

“Oh, God,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Collins. Let us know if the Army can do anything to help you with the holidays,” the officer had said. He said more, offering as much help as she and the kids might need. But every time he asked for her response, “Oh, God,” was all that came out.

The phone went silent and Alison sat there, holding the receiver, her life over. The kids were still in school and wouldn’t be home for hours. She would have to tell them herself.

Alison let the phone clatter to the table. She put her head in her hands, expecting tears, but they didn’t come. Instead her mind filled with all of the tasks that she would have to do. She would have to see the base commander, talk to him, then figure out funeral arrangements. Would they even have a body to bury? She couldn't remember if David's benefits would help with burial costs. She couldn't remember if he even had life insurance. And the bank accounts? His IRA?

Finally, the tears flowed.

*****

December 25 rolled by on the calendar, but Christmas never came for Alison or the kids. The pain of David’s disappearance hurt too much. Gifts remained beneath the unlit tree, bizarre reminders of their hellish reality; they couldn’t bring themselves to open them without David, afraid that once the paper and ribbons were gone, David would be gone too. The psychologist from the Army base told them their feelings were common to military families experiencing loss at Christmas time: many families just stopped Christmas from ever coming again.

The New Year passed and David’s birthday, January 24. Still nothing from the Army: no confirmation of David’s death, no recovery of his body. The limbo began to wear on Alison, Eric and Marie. They weathered the uncertainty together, each holding on to the others, but the not knowing took its toll.

Alison found it ironic: their entire life had become the “What If?” game.

February arrived. The house was still decorated for Christmas. The family room, once the heart of the Collins home, had gone unused since Christmas Eve. They found themselves either at the table or retreating into the sanctuary of their own rooms, into their own grief. Alison didn’t even put the kids to bed anymore; everyone just went their own way, lost without David’s massive presence.

Eric and Marie sat at the kitchen table, looking out the front window, eating small handfuls of cereal from the box while Alison puttered in the kitchen. For some reason, each had woken up that day in a positive frame of mind, a tenuous thing, but pleasant nonetheless.

“How about I fix some pancakes?” Alison offered when the kids came into the kitchen. “Today feels like a good pancake day.”

Eric and Marie nodded and helped their mother pull together the ingredients, then sat down to snack on the Cheerios. Alison mixed the batter together and ladled the first pancake onto her skillet.

“Flapjack number one is in process,” she announced. The kids didn’t respond.

Alison turned around and gasped. She could see the boring beige sedan through the front window. Inside sat some men in military uniforms. The car just sat, idling, exhaust billowing in the cold air.

The kids stood, and Alison joined them as they pressed their faces to the window pane, their hearts firing, their stomachs rolling over, relentless.

“What if…” Eric murmured.

“What if it’s…”Marie whispered.

Alison said, “Let’s not play ‘What If’. Let’s see what is.”

The front passenger door on the car opened and a tall man in dress uniform stepped out. He moved with precision and flourish to the rear door, which he opened with the kind of grandiosity reserved for heads of state.

David Collins stepped onto his front yard and fell to his knees. He was home.

Alison and the kids burst through the front door, the torrent of their love uncontrollable. They knocked him over and smothered him with hugs and kisses and squeals and he reveled in it, soaking in the love that had kept him alive. He called each of them by name, kissing and hugging just as wildly as they did, until the family finally collapsed into the grass, the cold dampness of the turf unimportant.

Eric sat up. “Oh my gosh!”

He jumped from the lawn and dashed inside.

“What’s up with your brother?” David asked Marie.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Maybe he had to go pee,” Alison offered. The three of them laughed.

But when the Christmas tree lit up in the family room window, bright and colorful and warm, they stopped laughing. Eric came back to the door and waved them in.

“Let’s celebrate!” he said, laughing.

Gathered around the tree, the remains of gifts and burnt pancakes around him, David marveled at his little family. He put his hands on the kids’ heads.

“You guys kept me alive,” he said, choking.

Alison leaned over and kissed him. The kids giggled.

“Thank you for keeping your promise,” she said.

David jumped up. “Oh my gosh! I totally forgot! My promise!”

Alison, Eric and Marie stared at him. He looked frantically at the tree.

“Crap, crap, crap…where is it?” he muttered.

After two trips around the tree, David had an idea. Sitting down in Alison’s recliner, he pushed himself back into a fully reclined position. A huge smile crossed his face. He reached a hand up.

“Alison, come here,” he said.

Before she could move the kids burst out laughing. Alison looked at them, her face mashed into a happy confusion. She walked over to David and took his hand. When he pulled her down, she fell happily into his arms.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

Alison nuzzled her head into his chest. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

David laughed. “You've forgotten.”

Alison looked up. “Forgotten what?”

David pointed to the tree above her head, and she let her gaze follow his finger.

There, on a piece of red velvet ribbon, was her ring.

“Oh my God! David!”

He grabbed her and hugged her tight, and the kids piled on. The recliner tipped, threatening to fall over, but they didn’t care.

Nothing could ruin Christmas for them ever again.