Christmas Therapy

She heard muffled voices from the Coleman’s children. They pointed to each other. Heather’s grin grew as Allen bobbed his head. Then he stooped to make a snowball. War broke out. Snowballs flew in the air, but the giggles from the kids and the smile on Allen’s face warmed her heart. Smiling wistfully, she barely heard her cell ring in her pocket. Heather sat in her window seat.

“How are you? Need anything?” Terrance asked.

Heather looked outside the window again at Allen. He was waving goodbye at the kids and drove off. Gazing upward, she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Heather?”

“I’m here. I’m okay, so no I don't need anything.”

“Everyone here misses you.”

“I can’t wait to get back. I hate being cooped up.”

“Please don’t hurt yourself trying to get out.”

“Ha-ha.” She rolled her eyes. “Is that the reason you called? To make fun?”

“No, I wanted to ask if I could bring you dinner.”

She shut her eyes. Terrance wasn’t a bad guy. It’s not as if she was seeing anyone. “I’d rather not, Terra

nce. I need to get through this before I can think about anything else.”

“It’s only dinner.”

If only that were true. “Terrance, you might as well know. I only see you as a friend.”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “That’s what I like about you. You don’t beat around the bush.”

She blew out her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Thanks for being honest. I’ll check on you later. Get better.” He hung up.

Heather placed her cell in her lap. She looked out the window once more but then she called her mother.

“Heather? Something wrong?”

“Please tell me you need help with the decorating. I promise I'll stay still,” she said.

“Oh, Heather.” Her mother sighed.

***

Allen took off his coat, knowing Ms. Diana would put him to work. On the stage, he saw Abigail rehearsing with the children. “Angels We Have Heard on High” sounded like cats meowing, but a smile built on his lips. His own mother never ceased to put him in the Christmas pageants growing up.

She loved to hear him sing and even requested for him to sing at her funeral. On her deathbed, she had held his hand asking him to sing her favorite hymn, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” With teary eyes, Allen sang his mother’s favorite song. Sadly, he hadn’t sung it since that fateful day.

Walking over to one table, he saw arts and crafts. Tins cans, strings, pine cones, and felt pieces. Looking up, he saw Heather working with Emily, but when the little girl got called over to join the children’s choir on stage, she left Heather to work alone. With her leg still propped on a chair, she glued the felt pieces together. As he moved closer, Allen glanced over at one finished product. Was that an elf?

“This is part of the celebration?” he asked.

Heather lifted her chin but looked away quickly. “Yeah, the kids love the pinecone elves.”

Allen’s face scrunched up as the kids practiced “Joy to the World.”

Heather laughed. “They’re getting better.”

He sat next to her, picking up a pinecone. “I’m sure they will.”