A Wish for Christmas (38 page)

Those were the only words David needed to hear. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight, burying his face in her long hair. Was he crying or laughing? He wasn’t sure. A little of each maybe. He did know that the road ahead was long and would be rough for both of them.

But now that he had Christine, he could do it. He could do anything.

EPILOGUE

I
T WAS EZRA’S IDEA TO MARRY ON VALENTINE’S DAY. LILLIAN was initially surprised by the notion. Then appalled.

“Ezra, you can’t be serious. Oh bother, I think you are.” She appraised his expression across the table. They were in the sunroom at Ezra’s house, where Mrs. Fallon had just served lunch. They had decided that morning to start planning their wedding.

“We want to be married quickly,” Ezra reminded her. “No need to wait at our age. February fourteenth falls on a weekend and is about a month from now, enough time to get our ducks in a row without dragging it out. A very romantic choice, I might add.”

“I’ll say. Positively sappy,” Lillian replied. “It might be a dandy choice for a pair of swooning twentysomethings. But people our age?” She shook her head. “Most inappropriate and utterly embarrassing. I won’t be made a laughingstock. People are already talking about us.”

“When did you ever give a hoot what anyone in this town said about you? No sense starting now,” he advised. “As for the date being inappropriate, I think romance is even more touching and sincere at our age. And rare.”

Lillian sighed and tried to stare him down. It was no use.

So this was how it was going to be. Ezra was no pushover. Never had been and in the passing years, he had developed into an even stronger adversary. She could not cow him or win her way that easily. Which was probably why she had always respected him and at least part of the reason she was willing, at this late date, to marry him.

“Valentine’s Day is the anniversary of a Christian martyr’s burial, you know. The unhappy event was totally misrepresented and commercialized by some silly woman in the 1800s,” she continued, getting in one last shot.

“I know all about it, another clever hoax of the greeting card companies.”

He was making fun of her dislike for what she called “trumped-up” holidays.

“Exactly. National Turnip Day will be next,” she insisted. When he didn’t respond, she added, “I don’t know why we’re debating, Ezra. The church is probably already booked with a wedding on Valentine’s Day. Why, people shallow enough to want it probably reserve the date years ahead.”

“Very true. Quite likely.” Obviously, it had not occurred to him. Lillian sensed the tide turning her way.

“More than likely, I’d say. I can almost guarantee it.”

“Would you? All right, here’s a proposition. If the church is free, we tie the knot on the misrepresented anniversary of the Christian martyr. If it’s booked, you get to choose any date you like.”

“I accept that offer,” Lillian answered.

She felt certain of victory, but when she called the church a short time later, she discovered that she had celebrated too soon. The date of Saturday, February fourteenth was free, and Reverend Ben was happy to perform the ceremony.

Lillian related the news to Ezra with a glum expression.

“Valentine’s Day, in all its silly, treacle-laden glory, it is,” he said gleefully.

“So it seems. I hope you’re pleased,” she snapped. “Let’s move on to the rest of the list, shall we?”

He had won, fair and square. No use arguing about it any longer. Even she could see that. Perhaps this was an omen of things to come, Lillian realized. Perhaps in Ezra she had finally met her match.

 

 

 

ON THE DAY OF HER WEDDING, LILLIAN SAT AT HER DRESSING TABLE, wondering how she had ended up with a holiday for both of her marriages. Her first marriage, to Oliver Warwick, had taken place on Christmas Eve, 1955. Her family had forbid her to have anything to do with Oliver but he was so charming and determined, he had won her over anyway and persuaded her to elope. They were married in secret, in Boston’s City Hall.

It seemed odd to Lillian, but on the day of her second marriage, she was thinking quite a bit about the first. She was pleased this time to be married in a church, a simple affair with her family in attendance. Ezra didn’t have many relatives in the area anymore, though he did invite a younger sister, who was a widow now, and some nieces and nephews. He also had a few friends, mainly other retired doctors and their wives, who were happy to attend.

Lillian did not have any close friends, or even acquaintances, whom she wished to invite. The fact was, she realized, she was marrying her only good friend. The most loyal friend of her life.

Although she had been shocked by the idea at first, in the days after their engagement, marrying Ezra made more and more sense to her. She was completely resigned to the idea now, even pleased about it. She did love him. Why hadn’t she ever noticed before? What a clever notion for them to be married. Why hadn’t they thought of it sooner?

Though it seemed awkward and even frightening to make a new start at this stage of her life, it was also a great relief. The long shadows of age had been creeping up on her. So many times lately, alone in this big old house, she had felt herself staring into a dark wood, a wilderness that was strange and frightening. And there was no choice but to follow the path into that dark place. But with Ezra by her side, neither of them had to face the inevitable adventure alone. That was a great comfort, come what may.

She was thankful for this marriage, this second chance. At the time of her first marriage, she had felt swept off her feet, ruled by her passions and terribly unsure if she was doing the right thing. But today she felt not a single doubt. And in her heart, she felt blessed.

After she married Oliver, her parents had banished her from the family, disowned her. She had been able to keep in touch with her younger sister, Beth, seeing her from time to time. But Beth had died when she was a relatively young woman. That loss had been a great blow to Lillian. With Beth’s passing, Lillian lost her only family tie.

When her parents were both gone and their grand house on Beacon Hill was sold, her brother Lawrence had sent her a few items. Among them, a set of pearls that had been passed down in the family for generations. Every bride wore the pearls, and her mother had often shown them to her but never let her try them on. “You’ll wear these the day you get married, Lillian,” she promised. “But not a moment sooner.”

Well, she had never gotten the chance to wear them, though her two daughters had enjoyed the privilege. The blue velvet box now sat on Lillian’s dressing table unopened. Lillian wasn’t sure if she was going to put them on, after all. What was the point? She was an old woman. What would it prove? That she was finally going to get it right this time?

Her parents had warned her that if she married Oliver Warwick, she would be sorry. Well, they had been right, in a way. But she had loved him truly, and most of the time, she felt no regrets. Nothing was as simple as it seemed from the outside, was it?

A knock sounded on the bedroom door. “Mother? It’s me, Emily. May I come in?”

“It’s open,” Lillian answered. She patted some powder on her face, not really looking at what she was doing. She rarely wore makeup now and was having trouble remembering how it was applied. The foundation first? Oh, dear. She had forgotten that step.

“You’re not ready yet?” Emily looked very elegant in a dark blue satin dress that crisscrossed over the bodice and had a banded waist.

“Here, let me help you with that—” Without waiting for an answer, Emily took the powder puff from Lillian’s hand and dabbed on the powder in a way that made Lillian think she was about to have a coughing fit. Before she could protest, Jessica walked in. “Mother, we’re all waiting downstairs. The cars are here. We thought you were dressed.”

Jessica looked very lovely, too, she noticed. Also in a satin dress similar to Emily’s but not exactly the same. They were both in the wedding party, but everyone agreed matching dresses would look silly at their age. This seemed a good, tasteful compromise.

“Calm down,” Lillian told her daughters, who were now both swarming around her like satin-covered bumblebees. “I’m almost ready. They can’t start without the bride, you know.”

“Of course not, but let us help you,” Emily said. For once, Lillian did not protest. Maybe she did need a little help. It was a big day, and her thoughts were wandering.

A short time later, her hair was pinned in place and her makeup done properly. She stood up, put her arms over her head, and her daughters slipped on the dress she had chosen—a champagne-colored silk slip covered with a layer of lace, decorated with tiny iridescent beads across the bodice, with long illusion sleeves. The dress was a simple princess style and fell just below her knees. Silk pumps and a fringed lace shawl completed the ensemble. Lillian had also had a small headpiece made from a bit of lace that matched the dress. Not a real veil of course, just something to indicate she was indeed the bride. When the side zipper was fastened, she stood up straight and appraised herself in the mirror.

“You look stunning, Mother,” Emily said. “That dress really suits you.”

“I knew it was the one the moment I spotted it in the window of that shop in Newburyport,” Lillian replied. She had always had a good eye for style.

“All you need is some lipstick.” Jessica chose a tube, and Lillian let her apply it. Her hands were shaking today; she couldn’t risk messing it.

“And jewelry,” Emily said, gazing down at the dressing table. “The pearls will be perfect with that dress.”

She picked up the velvet box and opened it.

Lillian glanced at the pearls but made no motion toward her daughter. “I’m not sure about that,” she said quietly.

Emily and Jessica stared at her. “Why not? I thought you were dying to wear these someday,” Emily said.

“Here’s your chance, Mother,” Jessica prodded her.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I missed my moment with that necklace,” she confessed.

The truth was, she had secretly believed her first marriage had been cast in an unlucky light because she had not worn the pearls, and it was too late now to make that right.

“But maybe this is the moment, Grandma. Ever think of it that way?” Sara stood in the bedroom doorway.

They all turned to look at her. Sara wore an ice-blue silk dress that set off her dark hair and did wonders for her blue eyes.
I had eyes like that once,
Lillian thought.
I looked a lot like she does now, didn’t I?

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Lillian asked her. “So many people in here, talking to me all at once . . .”

“Maybe you’re supposed to wear the pearls for
this
wedding,” Sara said slowly. “That it was always meant to be this way, not for the day you married Oliver Warwick.”

Lillian stared at her a moment, then turned back to the dressing table. “I never thought of it that way, I must admit.” She gazed down at the necklace. Was she meant to wear the pearls with Ezra?

Well, anything was possible. Didn’t this wedding day prove that? Lillian knew too well about unexpected turns in the road. But if there was one thing she had learned these past weeks, it was that no matter how we envision our life, no matter what we hope for, God often has plans so wonderful for us, they’re beyond our wildest imaginings.

“All right. In for a penny, in for a pound. Go ahead, put them on,” she urged Emily.

The pearls did look beautiful, resting just below her collarbone on the champagne-colored lace. Just the right touch, she thought, admiring her reflection in the mirror.

“Mother, you always said a bride is not a bride without pearls,” Jessica reminded her.

“Very true,” Lillian agreed. “And now, for the earrings.”

She scanned her dressing table and finally chose a pair of pearl drop earrings with small diamonds on the studs. A gift from Oliver, on some big occasion, she couldn’t remember now. She was sure Ezra wouldn’t mind. It seemed fitting to take a piece of her old life along to start her new one.

A few moments later, she was led downstairs and then out to the cars. The ride to church went by so quickly, Lillian was surprised when she looked out the window of the limousine and saw the village green.

As the limo pulled up beside the church, her son-in-law Dan ran out and pulled open the car door. “Finally,” he said. “Everyone’s waiting.”

As they should be, Lillian thought. She sniffed and tilted her chin, then allowed him to help her from the car.

They regrouped in the narthex. Her daughters checked her hair and lipstick once more, and someone handed her a bouquet of white flowers. Gardenias, of course. The flowers Ezra had chosen for her so long ago.

Lillian had asked her two daughters to walk her down the aisle and give her away. Untraditional, but it did seem fitting. Emily and Jessica were, in fact, handing her over to Ezra’s care, as much as any paternal figure might. Being flanked by her daughters as she walked down the aisle also allowed her to walk without her cane, another advantage to the role reversal.