Christmastime 1940 Page 12

  As Drooms read the stories, he realized that he hadn’t felt such connection in a long, long time and marveled that it should come from such a simple act. The boys took such pleasure in the stories, had such ready access to the world of adventure and make-believe.

  Or, he wondered, did he feel such connection because they were her children, in her home?

  After an hour and a half, the boys were starting to nod and close their eyes. Gabriel was the first to drop off to sleep, leaning against Drooms, his hook and patch abandoned to the floor.

  Eventually Tommy also fell asleep, with half of the afghan pulled over him, the other half still over the back of the couch.

  Drooms didn’t want to wake the boys, so he sat silent and unmoving – though he did finish the last chapter to find out if the long-buried gold was ever discovered.

  He looked around, noticing the tiny touches that made the apartment feel so different from his – the feminine bits of embroidery, the lace in the windows, framed family photographs, the boys’ drawings on the shelves by the fireplace.

  As he leaned his head back against the afghan, he caught a faint scent of what he guessed was her perfume or bath oil – was it lilac, roses? He closed his eyes and luxuriated in the warmth and comfort of her home.

  From some deep, peaceful place he heard a noise that caught his attention, and to his surprise, he realized that he had fallen asleep. He rubbed his face, unsure if minutes or hours had passed. He heard the key turn in the lock, and saw Lillian gently opening the door.

  When she saw Drooms, sunk in the middle of the couch with the boys sprawled all over, she couldn’t keep from laughing. “Mr. Drooms. I’m sorry it took so long. Is everything all right?”

  “Fine, fine.” He hoped he didn’t look like he had just woken up. It was highly unlike him. He never took naps or dozed off in the evenings.

  He watched her take off her coat and hat and hang them on the hall tree. She had such a graceful, light way of moving.

  Lillian came to the couch and helped extricate Drooms from the boys, shaking her head at the number of books they had piled up around them. Tommy woke up and walked sleepily to bed, as if it were a night like any other.

  “Night, Mommy. Night, Mr. Drooms.”

  Lillian carried Gabriel to bed and tucked him in. When she came out she saw that Drooms was gathering the scattered books and stacking them on the coffee table.

  “How is Mrs. Kuntzman feeling?”

  Lillian sat on the arm of the couch. “She’s resting now. It’s her rheumatism acting up. Her daughter will stay a few days. I didn’t want her to be alone.”

  “No, of course not. You did the right thing.”

  Lillian glanced down and played with the button on her sweater. “Mr. Drooms, I owe you an apology for the other day, when you brought Tommy home.”

  “No, you don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “You were worried. I completely understand.”

  “No. What I said was wrong.” She was silent a few moments, and then looked up. “I didn’t want you to think I was a bad mother.”

  Drooms let his mouth fall open, shocked to hear this, and even more surprised that it mattered to her what he thought. “Not at all – on the contrary.” He was about to say he couldn’t imagine a more perfect mother, but instead said, “Perhaps I was out of line.”

  “No, you weren’t. I can’t thank you enough for what you did. I don’t know what you said to Tommy but he’s been different ever since.” Lillian threw her hands open. “And now I’m in your debt again.”

  Drooms waved this away.

  “Is this what happens when you get old?” Lillian asked. “You start needing more help?”

  Drooms smiled. “Are you asking me as the aged expert?”

  She laughed and stood, shaking her head and reaching for the afghan. Drooms took the other end and helped her with it, their hands touching briefly for the final fold. Lillian placed the afghan over the back of the couch. “I hope they weren’t too much trouble.”

  “None at all. And I’ve learned quite a bit about pirates tonight. I was Blackbeard.” He rubbed his cheek in explanation.

  Lillian laughed at the idea. “And did you read in character?”

  “Yes. After some initial instruction.”

  She laughed again, and wondered at her high spirits. It seemed that everything was fine once more, that life was happy, exciting, promising.

  “Mr. Drooms. What would you say to a glass of my hot buttered rum?”

  Drooms gave it a thought, and nodded. “I would say that’s a drink worthy of a pirate.”

  She gestured towards the kitchen table. “Please. Have a seat. It will just take a minute.”

  She heated a pan of water and added the butter, rum, and brown sugar. Then she rummaged through the cupboard and took out the vanilla and spices, adding the ingredients as she listened to Drooms.

  He told her about the stories he had read to the boys, and how Gabriel had jumped up at certain parts to enact the scene.

  Lillian watched him as he leaned back in the chair, his face so mobile, so relaxed. She realized she was seeing a side of him that most people must not know about. She found herself talking easily to him as she prepared the drinks, as if she had known him for long years.

  “They’ve been in a pirate stage ever since Tommy read Treasure Island,” she said, pouring the drinks. “Everything is buried treasures and secret maps.” She placed a steaming mug in front of Drooms and took her seat.

  “I seem to remember a similar stage myself,” said Drooms. “I guess it’s something boys are drawn to. Going off, exploring the world, having adventures.”

  Lillian raised her glass mug. “To the Seven Seas!”

  “Hear, hear.” Drooms clinked his mug to hers and took a sip. He inhaled the fragrant drink and looked at the mug. “Very nice. I haven’t had a glass of this – in years.” After a moment, he smiled and took another sip. “It might help to melt off some of those icicles.”

  Lillian put her head in her hands and laughed. “Oh, that was just an impulse. That night I saw you standing out in the snow. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I guess I can be a little cold at times.”

  “A little? It took me two weeks to get the courage to say hello to you.”

  Drooms smiled. “I don’t usually open up to people. A fault of mine.”

  “Ah, well. We all have faults. Though I almost gave up that day you snatched back your package from me.”

  Drooms chuckled, remembering his actions. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

  His words caused them to sit quietly for a few moments.

  Then Drooms looked around and gestured to the Christmas decorations. “You’ve made it quite festive.”

  Lillian followed his gaze to the Christmas tree and stockings, the paper chains around the door frame, the snowflakes hanging in the windows.

  “It means a lot to the boys. We don’t have family around here so I try to make it special for them.”

  She was hoping her comment might spur Drooms to say something about his own family, but he remained silent. From the day she first saw him she had wondered if he’d ever been married or involved with anyone. She assumed he had always been a bachelor, but couldn’t be sure. She spoke casually before taking a sip from her mug.

  “Do – do you have family?”

  Drooms leaned back in his chair. “None of my own. I never married.”

  Lillian blushed to find that he had interpreted her question so accurately.

  Drooms never spoke to anyone about his past, but he felt that he wanted her to know something of him.

  “I have family in the Midwest – but I’ve lost touch with them.”

  “What a shame. Is there no contact at all?”

  “Oh, cards at Christmas. That sort of thing.”

  Lillian felt sad to think that he was without family – she could hardly imagine it. “I miss my family terribly. My sister and her family live upstate so we don’
t get to see each other very often. And Tom didn’t have much family, an aunt and uncle, a few cousins. It’s so nice to have family around – especially for the holidays.”

  She waited for him to respond but he simply smiled and looked over at the tree. Then she too examined the tree, with only a few presents under it. She thought of all the holiday preparations she still needed to do, and gave a deep sigh.

  “I so wanted this Christmas to be special, but I find that I’m falling short. The tree wouldn’t even be up if it weren’t for you. And it needs a new top ornament. I still have gifts to wrap, and I’ve barely started my Christmas baking.” In a softer voice she added, “And now I seem to have a way of intruding on your evenings.”

  Drooms leaned forward and took her hand. “Not at all. Not at all.”

  He didn’t want her to feel bad about asking for his help, and the gesture to reach out to her had been completely spontaneous. But now that her warm hand was in his, he felt that some wall had finally crumbled between them. That simple, gentle touch was like the click of a key, finally unlocking a door.

  They held each other’s gaze, and slowly leaned in – Drooms surprised to find himself so easily following his heart, Lillian astonished that she felt such passion for him. She realized that she had wanted to hold him from that first moment on the stairs.

  “Mommy, I’m cold,” came Gabriel’s sleepy voice from his bedroom.

  They smiled and reluctantly sat back. Lillian looked down at their linked hands, and then stood up. “I’ll get another blanket for him.”

  Drooms ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat as he waited for her to return. He felt exposed, as if his protective facade had fallen away. It was a new feeling, and he wasn’t sure if he liked being so vulnerable. But when he saw her come back, with that smile of hers, he knew that he was going to throw all caution to the wind.

  But the few moments with Gabriel had caused Lillian to pull back a little, to doubt herself – she didn’t always trust her highs and lows. Perhaps she was just seeing and hearing what she wanted. She would slow things down, try to see them clearly.

  “Gabriel’s fine now. I think he was dreaming.” She stood by the table and gestured towards his mug. “A warm-up?”

  Drooms lifted his glass. “Please.”

  She went to the stove, and refilled their mugs.

  He leaned back in his chair, seeming to understand her quietness. All he wanted was to be in her presence, to know her, listen to her. He asked her about her days in Brooklyn, and then about her youth.

  They soon fell right back into easy conversation, and for the next hour they sat comfortably, speaking freely of their lives. She described the various art classes she had taken, and her girlish dreams of studying in Paris. He spoke of his years in the Navy, of the places he had seen, and how he had settled in New York after the war. He recounted how he had built his business from a one-man show, to now having a staff of twelve. She told him of her years in the department store, and now at the switchboard, and how she was going to brush up on her typing to get a better job, and perhaps try to get into the Art Department.

  “Yes, you really must get a portfolio together and take it around. There’s a quality to your work that is immediate, and stirring –”

  The clock from the mantel began to strike, seeming to go on forever, marking the lateness of the evening, and intruding on the intimacy of their conversation. A few moments of silence sat between them.

  Drooms spoke first. “Well. It’s getting late for you.” He pushed back his chair.

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” said Lillian.

  They stood and slowly walked to the door. Drooms rested his hand on the doorknob and turned to look at her. “Well.”

  “Well, thank you again for sitting with the boys. Blackbeard.”

  Drooms smiled. “Thanks for the rum. Matey.” He stood before her and beheld her face, wanting to take every detail with him: her smile with the tiniest suggestion of a dimple, the way her curls brushed against her shoulders, but most of all, the softness in her eyes.

  “Goodnight, Mr. Drooms.” Lillian wanted to ask if he would stop by again tomorrow, and if not, then the next day and the next. But instead she simply smiled.

  Drooms opened the door, and hesitated before saying, “You can call me Charles, if you like.”

  “Charles,” Lillian said slowly, taking possession of his name, as if cradling it in her hands. “And you can call me Lillian.”

  “Lillian.” Of course she would have such a lovely name. “Well, goodnight, Lillian.” He wanted to say it again and again.

  The door closed between them.

  They knew that having each other’s name brought them closer, was something they were taking with them that they didn’t have at the beginning of the evening. But they didn’t know that after saying goodnight, they both stood staring at the door between them, wanting what was on the other side.

  Lillian reached for the doorknob, then refrained. Drooms was about to knock, but pulled his hand back.

  He remembered her sweet, low tones that soothed and caressed. Lillian thought of the warmth of his hand in hers.

  She took a step away, paused, and then turned back to the door. Drooms placed his hand on the door, then once again changed his mind.

  Thirty seconds of mirrored desire and indecision passed between them.

  Then just as Drooms decided to knock, Lillian opened the door. They held each other’s gaze, took a step towards each other, and embraced, sinking into the warmth of one another – layers and layers of a fit so perfect they could almost hear the click, click, click of a myriad tiny gears and locks finding and settling into place.

  “Mommy, I wet the bed. It’s cold,” came Gabriel’s voice again.

  They slowly separated and looked into each other’s eyes. But it was all right. Something had already been sealed, confirmed, acknowledged. Nothing else mattered.

  Drooms put his hand on her cheek, and she covered it with her hand. They leaned into a long, slow kiss. When they separated, it was as though they were still embraced, still warm and full of each other.

  “Goodnight, Charles.” A sweet wave of tenderness washed over Lillian, and the future spread before her like a beautiful land.

  “Goodnight. Lillian.” Drooms left knowing that his life had changed.

  Chapter 11

  *

  The following afternoon Lillian was in the middle of her Christmas baking. She wore her ruffled red and green Christmas apron and bustled about the kitchen, singing along with the radio. She didn’t want to appear too different to the boys, but she couldn’t forget that kiss, the warm embrace. She kept catching herself smiling as she remembered his hand in her hair, the gentleness in his voice when he said her name.

  When Al Bowlly’s “Only Forever” came on, she turned up the volume and tried to dance with the boys. She could usually count on at least Gabriel to play along, but today both boys were restless and wanted to go outside, and the more she laughed and tried to twirl around with them, the more impatient they became.

  “Can’t we go now, Mom?” asked Tommy. “I already read all my books, and if we don’t go now the library will close.”

  “Yeah, Mommy, I want to go outside. I need some more books, too.” Gabriel ran to get his coat and started to put it on.

  Lillian opened the oven, took out a batch of Christmas cookies, and set them on top of the stove.

  “If we can’t go today,” she said, “we’ll go another day.”

  “But I already read –”

  “Now Tommy, what did I say? I can’t leave in the middle of baking.”

  Gabriel stomped his foot. “But Mommy –”

  “If you two don’t start behaving I won’t take you to see Santa tomorrow.”

  Gabriel gasped at this possibility. “Mommy, we have to see Santa to tell him what we want!”

  Tommy heard Drooms’s door open and close, and ran to look down the hall.

  “Hi, Mr. D
rooms!”

  Gabriel also ran to the door and peeked out.

  “Hi, Mr. Drooms! Will you take us to the libary?”

  Drooms appeared in their doorway, dressed to go outside. He smiled at the boys, then at Lillian.

  But she didn’t want to cross any as yet to be determined boundary. “Boys! Stop that. You know better.” She went to the door, pulled the boys back inside, and widened her eyes at them in warning.

  Tommy relented. “Okay, okay.”

  Lillian flushed with pleasure as she gazed up at Drooms. She had never seen him looking so handsome.

  “Hello, Lillian.”

  “Hello. Charles.”

  Tommy and Gabriel jerked back their heads, and pronounced the name in one long, upturned question. “Charles?”

  Drooms covered Lillian’s embarrassment by inhaling a whiff of her cooking. “Something smells mighty good.”

  “Just doing some baking. You’re home early today?”

  Drooms was about to explain, but Gabriel stomped again, impatient with all this talking.

  “I want to go outside!”

  Lillian was about to reprimand him but Drooms spoke up. “I’m going out anyway to run a few errands. I don’t mind. And it looks like you could use some time alone.”

  She didn’t want to give in, but Drooms pressed his point. “They just have a touch of cabin fever. A little fresh air will do them good.”

  Gabriel let his whole body droop and put a hand to his head. “Please, Mommy, please? I have a cabin fever.”

  Tommy raised his eyebrows in hope.

  Lillian cast a side glance to Drooms who gave her a reassuring nod.

  “All right. But you boys are not to waylay Mr. Drooms like that. Do you understand?”

  “Yippee!” Gabriel held Drooms’s hand and smiled up at him.

  “Anything you say, Mom!” Tommy ran to get his coat.

  Lillian buttoned Gabriel’s coat and pulled his mittens over his hands.

  Tommy dashed past them and stood outside in the hall. “Come on! Bye, Mom.”