| With that one breath, he saw her face. In the darkness of the theater, her profile was softly illuminated by the glow of the projector light. Jack noted the outline of her smile, and then smiled himself as Charlene laughed at the chaotic dinner party splashed across the movie screen, displaying that infectious grin he loved so dearly. Jack couldn’t help but join in her delight when Charlene glanced at him while grabbing some popcorn from the bag they shared. At that sweet simple moment, Jack also knew he could share a lifetime with her. She was so easy to be with. The warm scent of fresh popcorn danced in the air between them. Jack fingered a cold kernel in his hand. The yellow plastic bowl sitting on his lap was nearly empty. © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik “If you strung more popcorn than you ate, I wouldn’t have had to make another batch,” said Gloria Grant. She carried a large bowl of steaming popcorn into the sunroom at the Harbor View Retirement Community’s main building nestled in the middle of New York State. A rising moon, just past full, cast a bluish sheen upon the frozen field of snow outside a curtainless picture window. “Hmmm?” Jack Mason glanced up, the kernel dropping from his wrinkled fingers. An unfinished string of popcorn lay across his thin, ninety-year-old legs. “My mind was wandering. What’d you say, Gloria?” “You eat too much,” she replied with a smirk. She sat next to Jack and set her retractable cane against the cushioned chair. A pair of auto-focusing binoculars rested on the pine tray table to her right. “I skipped that chicken something-or-other they served tonight, so forgive me if I snack on the garland,” he said with a wink as Gloria poured some of the fresh popcorn into his bowl. Jack’s unkempt mop of hair, nearly as thick as a teenager’s, matched the silvery-white crystalline snow outside the window. He wore a baggy navy-blue sweatshirt, some comfortable slacks and a pair of brown slippers. Jack glanced at a holographic calendar embedded in the wall, its digital readout displaying the date December 21, 2048 in a cool green glow. “Anyway, it’s four days until Christmas. Aren’t you finished decorating yet?” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik “I thought the front desk could use a little more pizzazz,” Gloria said, grabbing the binoculars while the bowl rested upon her lap. She peered out the window through them, her fiery green eyes still sparkling like stars as they did on the day of her birth seventy-five years before. “However, I’ m comparing the decorations in here to the ones in my cottage–which is decked out to the hilt. So naturally I win that contest.” Gloria set the binoculars down and continued to string popcorn. “I really love Christmas.” Jack started to work on his own garland strand, carefully pushing a sewing needle through the center of each popped kernel. “For someone who moved here three months ago, you’re certainly giving the place a personal touch.” “I like to keep busy. Anyway, nobody seems to mind.” Jack grunted in amusement. “Well, Edna Phelps did get her dander up when they rearranged the furniture in the game lounge after your suggestion.” “She did?” “Yes indeed. ‘Why, that Gloria keeps her own cottage and still thinks she has free rein in the main building!’ That’s what Edna told me at breakfast one morning.” “But there was so much wasted space.” Gloria placed her fingertips to her mouth. “I never meant…” Jack swished a hand through the air. “Don’t fret. Two days later I saw Edna sitting in the lounge scanning through her book pad. She said the room looked quite charming and that you apparently knew what you were talking about. Just don’t ever expect her to admit that to you.” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik Gloria chuckled, glancing at the potted palm plants and some old framed oil paintings hung about the sandstone colored walls. One shelf contained a collection of nautical- themed knickknacks–white lighthouses, iron anchors and some leaping trout–and several red bows were affixed to decorative fish netting draped over one corner of the ceiling. A three-foot Christmas tree stood atop a small table near the side window, its sparkling lights reflecting off the glass panes like gemstones. “Dear me, but I better not get any ideas for this room,” she said. “I know how much you enjoy spending time here wallowing in the dreadfully old-fashioned.” “And don’t forget that. After I moved out of my cottage four years ago, I took a liking to this sunroom,” Jack said. “Hardly anyone uses it since they built the larger addition on the east side, so I brought in some of my things. It’s cool and quiet in the evening. And I can read, think and, well–string popcorn.” “If I’m ever intruding…” “…I’ll let you know.” Gloria patted Jack’s arm, smiling. “And I know you would.” Jack grinned as he pierced another piece of popcorn. “By the way, what’s with those?” he said, indicating the binoculars with a slight twist of his head. “Are you a spy?” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik “It’s a gift from my son.” Gloria moved the cuff of her holly- and-ivy patterned sweater and looked at her watch. “I’m waiting for something tonight, Jack. It’s going to happen this very evening, right on the first day of winter. I’ll tell you about it shortly.” “Happen out there?” Jack placed another piece of popcorn in his mouth. “All you’ll see outside this window is some deer wandering near those woods. Or perhaps you’d rather look at the moon?” “Both subjects are worthy of observation, Jack. But I was focusing my attention down in the valley. Something’s happening in Sage Harbor tonight.” Subdued delight entwined her words. “Something special.” “Is that so?” Jack nodded, his eyes fixed on the popcorn as he added to his string piece by piece. “Well, here’s hoping that you’ll see something spectacular,” he said, recalling a tucked-away memory. “Spectacular? I guess I hope I do, too,” Gloria replied. “Sage Harbor may unveil some beauties tonight.” Jack smiled. “Sage Harbor… Growing up, I always liked that city, especially the small boats on the river. There was this café my father took me to whenever we visited. Of course, living in tiny East Oaks ten miles down the river, why, I thought Sage Harbor was the biggest city in the world.” “My mother Jenny was raised in East Oaks,” Gloria said, “so I had my fair share of small town stories from her.” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik “It was a fine place to grow up.” Jack gazed out the window as winter made its quiet arrival with the rising moon in the east. The dispersion of light made the tract of snow appear frozen over, as if a sweep of freezing rain had recently glazed its surface. Jack studied the subtle sparkle of light dancing upon the ground as a faraway smile spread across his face. He was silent for several moments. “What are you thinking about, Jack?” Gloria looked at him, knowing his thoughts were miles away in time. Jack chuckled. “I was thinking about the Christmas night I found a shooting star stuck in a snow bank.” Gloria curiously raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” “It was 1966. I was eight years old and the outdoors looked just like it does now. Bright moonlight on the snow. Clear skies and quiet.” Jack caressed his chin as he continued to stare out the window, his eyes focused on memories. “I hadn’t thought about that shooting star in some time. I followed it,” he said to himself, as if unaware of Gloria in the chair next to him. “It led me to Charlie and Alice. I wonder if they ever…” Gloria sat up arrow straight upon hearing those two names, looking askance at Jack. She slowly rubbed a hand across her head of light brown hair. “Who did you just say?” “Hmmm?” Jack’s eyes met Gloria’s. “Was my mind wandering again?” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik “Perhaps.” Gloria placed a hand upon Jack’s arm. “What about Charlie and Alice? Tell me more. You said that shooting star had led you to Charlie and Alice. What about them?” Jack wrinkled his brow, thinking hard. “Something I overheard once. Something I learned.” He scratched his head. “Can’t remember their last names, but I can still hear the crunch of snow under my boots. I can still smell the pine.” Jack looked at Gloria. “Isn’t that funny?” “Jack, what did you overhear?” Gloria spoke softly as if asking a dying man to reveal a vital, life-saving piece of information. “What did you learn about Charlie and Alice?” Jack noted the eagerness in her eyes that burst forth like sparks in a blazing bonfire, unable to comprehend Gloria’s sudden curiosity. “There’s not that much to tell,” he said, taking a piece of popcorn between his thumb and forefinger and steadily pushing the needle through its center. “I only told my oldest sister what I had learned and made her promise to keep it secret. I was eight after all.” His fingers fished inside the bowl again. “Imagined I’d get in trouble if I told anyone else.” “You never mentioned you had any siblings.” Jack nodded. “Yes. Two sisters. And I miss them both.” Gloria peeked out at the moonlit night before speaking. “Jack, about your oldest sister. Was her name Loretta by any chance?” “Yes. How’d you know?” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik Gloria spoke in a whisper. “Loretta Mason.” “That’s right,” Jack replied. “Her married name was Loretta Corda. Did you know her?” “No. But my mother did,” Gloria said, sitting back in her chair and pondering a handful of thoughts. Then slowly she turned her head, studying Jack as he added to the lengthening popcorn garland. She observed his aged face and silvery hair, trying to imagine the boy of eight who once owned that body. “It must have been you,” she finally said in wonderment, a slight smile germinating upon her face. “You had to be the one.” “The one what?” Jack said looking up, not quite sure if Gloria was speaking to him or to the wintry night. Gloria shifted sideways in her chair, taking Jack by the arm, peering deep into his eyes. “I just realized something, Jack, and after all these years.” “What?” he said. “Tell me.” Gloria Grant bowed her head and took a deep breath before looking at Jack once again, a childlike glow upon her face. “Jack, I just realized that… I realized that if you hadn’t seen that shooting star on Christmas night when you were eight years old, then I would never have been born!” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik |
| ~ CHAPTER 1 ~ |
| A CHRISTMAS CASTLE |
| by Thomas J. Prestopnik © Copyright 2008 All Rights Reserved. |
