“We were embarrassed during the committee meeting Thursday.” Simon’s smile was crooked. “We didn’t complete our assignment.”
Ethel nodded. “We realized that if we didn’t cooperate, we were going to continue to embarrass ourselves.”
“We’ve been working together on entertainment ideas and the program draft since Thursday night.” Simon handed the manila folder to Ethel.
Ethel offered the folder to Darius. “Here’s the printout of the program. We’ve also e-mailed the file to you in case you want to make changes.”
Darius took the folder from his mother. His parents’ constant use of the pronoun we was disconcerting. He’d become used to their outbursts and self-centeredness. This spirit of unity was strange to him, but he was willing to get used to it.
He skimmed the draft of their program. “This looks good. Peyton and I will review it when she returns next Friday. We’ll give you our feedback, then send it to the rest of the committee for their input.”
“Sounds good.” Simon inclined his head.
“We found a printer who’ll publish the program for free.” Ethel shifted on her seat. “You were right about businesses being willing to donate equipment, services, and supplies. They’re probably happy for the tax deduction.”
Darius shook his head at his mother’s cynicism. The vast majority of these business owners were more dedicated to the community than his parents had ever been.
Three weeks out and, finally, everything was in place. All the committee had to do was print the program.
Darius closed the folder and leaned back on his chair. “We’ll list on the program the businesses that have given us donations for the fund-raiser.”
“I’m glad we’re on the fund-raising committee.” Simon exchanged a look with Ethel. “It’s forced us to start talking again.”
Ethel turned to Darius. “One of the things we talked about was celebrating Christmas together instead of asking you to spend it with us separately.”
Darius looked from Ethel to Simon. Who were these reasonable people? He tried to mask his shock.
Simon leaned forward. “We should definitely spend Christmas together. It’s a holiday for families.”
Darius gave Ethel and Simon a hard look. They seemed happier and more relaxed than he’d ever seen them. Certainly they seemed friendlier toward each other than they’d ever been.
“Are you two getting back together?” He dreaded the answer.
“Well, we’re—”
“No,” Ethel interrupted Simon. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when we reconcile. If I wanted to be married to a randy adolescent, I’d find a younger man rather than a boy in a middle-aged man’s body.”
“Do you think you’re some great catch?” Simon scowled.
“At least I listened to our wedding vows.” Ethel crossed her arms and legs.
Now he recognized his parents. But this was progress. Darius drew a deep breath, bracing himself. “We’ll spend Christmas together, if that’s what you want.”
Ms. Helen was right. His parents needed an opportunity to work toward forgiveness. Serving on the fund-raising committee was giving them that chance. Hopefully they’d continue to work on forgiving each other.
It was as cold as the day she’d buried her husband almost two years ago. Doreen stood before Paul’s final resting place, staring down at his headstone: PAUL FEVER, 1946 TO 2013, LOVING HUSBAND AND FATHER.
Her gaze lifted to a tree line in the distance. The bare branches moved in an icy breeze. Above them, gray clouds hung low and heavy in the sky.
This isn’t the way our story was supposed to end, my darling.
Doreen swiped away tears with the tips of her fingers. Back in her day, they hadn’t told little girls that happily-ever-after wasn’t forever. And she hadn’t been smart enough to figure it out on her own. Even when she and Paul had opened their retirement accounts and chosen a life insurance policy, she hadn’t realized the implications of their actions. One of them—she—would be left behind, left alone. Stranded.
Doreen dropped her gaze to Paul’s headstone again. “I’ve made the best of it.”
You’ve done better than that, Paul’s smooth, rich baritone whispered in her ear, full of pride. You’ve thrived. I knew you would.
“I’d never planned a life without you.” She snuggled deeper into her sapphire-blue woolen winter coat. “I wish you were still here to share these new experiences with me.”