Epilogue
JUST RIGHT
Harry
H arry closed down his computer, cleared his desk, locked it and got up to go get his coat.
He was pushing his chair under the desk when the lights caught his attention.
Egged on and helped by Lillian, Polly had lined his window with multi-colored Christmas lights.
Harry’s lips quirked, and his eyes fell to his credenza.
Winnie was no longer there. She was on the chest at home with Lillian’s parents.
But the picture of Harry and Lillian outside her house at Halloween was there. A picture of Harry with Eugenie on his shoulders was also there. Further, there was a picture of Harry with George, their arms around each other’s shoulders, George giving a thumbs up for some dad-doing-something-for-no-reason reason. Also added, a picture of Harry and Lillian, Trey and Jenna, Mark and Kay, all sitting around a table covered in glasses of beer and nacho remnants at the Squirrel’s Nest. Not to mention, a snap of Rus and him sitting in that very office and another of Harry with Doc and Ledge out on their pier.
And last, a picture of Lillian with her face in a bunch of sunflowers that Harry had brought home for her randomly one evening.
He left the Christmas lights around his window burning and went to his coat. He put it on, turned out the overhead lights and gave himself another moment to take in how those lights around the window transformed even his office, made it more cheerful, more joyful, more peaceful.
On that thought, he walked home.
When he got there, only his dogs greeted him.
He gave them pets, words of love, and hit the kitchen to toss them some treats.
He then let them out for a bathroom break while he went to the bedroom and changed out of his uniform and into a pair of jeans and a pine-green sweater.
After he got the dogs back in, and gave them more pets, he headed out the front door, made sure it was locked, and walked across the yard, driveway, and Ronnie and George’s yard.
He put his thumb to the pad on their door, heard the locks whir, and then he stepped in.
“Harry’s here!” Sherise yelled over a hum of chatter and Christmas music. She grabbed his arm, tugged him in farther and exclaimed, “Finally! Mom wouldn’t let us break into the sausage roll wreath until you showed.”
Shane arrived with a beer and handed it to Harry, with a, “Hey, brother.”
Harry took the beer, got a chest bump and back clap from Shane, a kiss on the cheek from Sherise, and then he had Lillian beaming up at him.
“Hey, honey,” she greeted, rolling up on her toes to give him a kiss.
“Hey, baby,” he murmured, smiling at her as she rolled back.
“Can we eat now?” George boomed. “I’ve been tortured by these food smells all freaking day.”
He hadn’t, the man still worked.
But he came home for lunch most days, and thank God he did, or he wouldn’t have been home when the dogs were barking, and Lillian was shouting when Karl Abernathy showed next door.
“Yes, George, you can eat,” Ronnie sighed, making her way to Harry to give him a cheek kiss too.
She did that and immediately turned and issued orders.
“Shane and Harry are on unpacking ornaments. Sherise and Lillian are on ornament placement on the tree. The old folks get to sit, eat, drink and watch you all work.” She clapped her hands twice. “Let’s get to it.”
“Can we make a plate of food first?” Shane asked.
“Yes, then get to it,” Ronnie answered.
Shane headed to the coffee table, which was covered in what was clearly Christmas themed finger foods.
Caroline and his dad moved in, and Harry got a hug from the first, a handshake and a playful slap on the face from the last before they moved to the living room.
Harry followed them.
“I get to do the angel,” Sherise declared.
Shane had bent over the food, but he shot straight at that.
“You do not. You did it last year. It’s my turn.”
“Actually, I did it last year,” Lillian put in.
“Then it’s still my turn,” Shane stated.
“It’s Harry’s turn,” Ronnie decreed. “And no lip. Eat. Unpack ornaments. Or we’ll be at this all night.”
Harry approached the coffee table and muttered to Shane, “You can put the angel on our tree when we get over there.”
“Thanks, man,” Shane muttered back.
“I heard that!” Sherise cried.
“Calm, darlin’,” Greg said. “You can put the star on our tree when we get to the dessert portion of this extravaganza.”
Sherise shot a sunny smile at his dad. “Thanks, Greg. You’re the best.”
And the extravaganza was: hors d’oeuvres at George and Ronetta’s, entrée at Harry and Lillian’s, dessert at Caro and Greg’s, tree trimming at all of them.
How he didn’t have a gut living with Lilly and next to Ronnie, he had no fucking clue.
Harry sidled up to Lillian and said low, “I thought Sherise was bringing her boyfriend this weekend.”
Lillian returned in an undertone, “She’s decided to spring him on them at Christmas. She thinks Ronnie will be more distracted then.”
Harry looked for Ronnie and found she’d ensconced herself in an armchair with her wine, catty corner to where Caroline was on the couch with her wine, and they were relaxed and chatting.
“Probably a good plan,” Harry replied.
Lillian’s eyes twinkled at him, more cheerful than any Christmas tree.
Then she dug into the sausage roll wreath, shoved her piece into the sauce, then shoved it into her mouth.
Harry did the same.
Ten minutes later, he was ass on the floor beside Shane, unwrapping carefully packed, fragile ornaments.
“We got the case of wine you sent, brother, thanks for that,” he told Shane.
“Wanna say it’s my largesse, my man,” Shane returned. “But I’m gonna be up here a lot this month and I’m not drinking shitty, five-dollar wine when I am.”
“You are such a wine snob,” Lillian accused as she took an ornament from Shane.
“And?” Shane asked. “It is kinda my job,” he pointed out.
Lillian rolled her eyes.
Sherise laughed.
Harry handed her an ornament when she was done laughing.
“Oh my goodness!” Caroline cried. “I can already see this is going to be a beautiful tree.”
“Ronnie doesn’t do anything but create beauty,” Harry said.
For some reason, once he did, the entire room went silent.
“I’ll be…just a second,” Ronnie whispered, got up and rushed from the room.
People kept doing what they were doing, just soundlessly.
Harry caught Lillian’s eyes.
“Did I say something wrong?” he mouthed.
She came right to him, bent and framed his face with her hands, hers an inch away.
“No, baby, what you said was just right,” she whispered.
Then she kissed him, took an ornament from Shane and went back to the tree.
“Mom’s not good with compliments. She likes to pretend she’s incognito with how awesome she is,” Shane murmured an explanation.
Well, shit.
“But with this, Sonny used to say stuff like that,” Shane continued murmuring. “He loved Mom. Thought she could do no wrong.”
“Shit,” Harry muttered it out loud this time.
“No, Harry, like Lilly Bean said, it was just right,” Shane assured.
George had given it enough time, so he traced Ronnie’s steps.
Harry caught his father’s eye, and Greg winked at him.
It was then, it hit Harry that this was their tradition.
Tree trimming at theirs, tree trimming at Lillian’s.
And now there was an added tree trimming at his dad and Caroline’s.
They’d lost.
And now they’d found.
There was fullness again.
Happiness again.
And more love all around.
He didn’t fuck up.
He just pointed it out.
So Harry got back to unpacking.
After he grabbed a stuffing bite.
“Okay, Mom and Ronnie could do it up , but Caroline? What was that ?” Lillian asked after they came in the side door to clamoring dogs and a bright Christmas tree shining in their front window.
“She never came up for Christmas, spent it with her family, so no clue, except I know I have to run another two miles tomorrow, at least,” Harry replied.
“Gingerbread trifle is soooooo on my Christmas go-to list every year from now on,” she decreed, shrugging off her coat.
Harry took it and hung it in the hall closet, then he did the same with his.
“But I am so stuffed. Aren’t I, sweet Lucy? So stuffed ,” she said, and Harry looked her way to see she was rubbing Lucy’s head with both hands and Lucy was staring up at her like she understood every word, and each was a morsel of absolute wisdom.
Harry took that moment to sync his phone to their Bluetooth speaker.
He then queued up the song, pushed the ottoman so it was flush to the sofa, moved to the front of the tree, and hit go on his phone.
The first strains of Michael Bublé’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” came on.
Lillian’s eyes shot to him.
Harry held out his hand and asked, “Dance with me?”
It came over her, as it sometimes did, the memories, the love, the loss.
And then there was just the love.
Lillian walked to him, put her hand in his, and he pulled her into his arms.
She rested her other hand on his shoulder and her cheek on his chest.
Bublé crooned.
They swayed.
The Christmas lights twinkled.
The dogs settled with groans and watched.
Eventually, Harry was forced to do some fancier moves, some spins, some twirls, all totally worth it considering Lillian’s smiles and giggles, and it was then he understood why Sonny pushed back the furniture as often as he could and danced with his wife.
The song segued into Bublé’s “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.”
And he and his Lilly kept dancing by the lights of their tree in the living room of a house bought with love, left with love…
And still filled with it.
The End
The tales from Misted Pines will continue…