12/13/14
Reuben pulled aside the kitchen curtain and peered out the window into the darkness. The full moon shining brightly through the rapidly scattering clouds showed the snow had finally stopped falling. But although the weather was clearing, the drifts were too deep for him to make it to his son’s home for Christmas dinner tomorrow. His son would understand why he couldn’t come. He’d go visit the new family once the roads were cleared.
He closed the curtain again, then saw in the sink the dish and cup he’d left there after finishing a sandwich a few hours ago. He washed them and placed them in the drainer to dry. Despite being nearly 11:00 p.m. he wasn’t feeling sleepy. So he decided to walk down to the river and sit a while.
He put on his heavy coat then trudged down the driveway to the road which ran beside the river. He slipped a little as he stepped down the embankment between the roadway and the river’s edge. Finally he reached his familiar large stone and sat down. He came here often to think of that night long ago, and how things might have been different, if only.
If only — a poet once called these the saddest words ever known. If only he hadn’t argued. If only he hadn’t tried to be stingy in the first place. If only he had known the meaning of that call. If only.
Reuben and Molly had married on Christmas day thirty years ago. Although their courtship had been very short, they both wanted to use this special day to give themselves to each other. It made both the holiday and their marriage seem that much more magical. Five years later their son Luke had seen fit to arrive this same day and make it even more momentous. What a wonderful and happy few years they then had together.
Reuben adjusted himself on the boulder and shoved his hands deep into the jacket pockets. Although the moonlight sparkling on the snow and the ice-choked river were beautiful, the chill was cutting through his clothing in places. Even so, he wasn’t ready to end his reverie.
Tragedy had struck on the couple’s tenth wedding anniversary and their child’s fifth birthday. The problem began mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve. Just as happens in so many families, the argument started over money.
Reuben felt that since his income hadn’t been as good that year as in previous years, they should tighten up a bit on their budget. So instead of buying two presents for his wife and two for his child, to honor each of the respective celebrations, he thought it would be okay to get one present each, then count them for double duty.
Molly had accepted that there would be an anniversary-Christmas present without too much complaint; though her smile was unconvincing. But she wasn’t sitting still for giving Luke a combination gift. She believed strongly that a child shouldn’t have to suffer fewer presents just for having a birthday near Christmas. She was insisting he come up with another toy before tomorrow. After more than an hour of arguing back and forth, Reuben finally relented and said he’d go into town and buy something else.
The snowfall had been exceptionally heavy that year, just as it was now; and the roads weren’t passable by vehicle. So Reuben would have to make the three mile trip to town on foot. He bundled up and headed out quickly. He’d have to hurry if he hoped to reach the stores before they closed.
Upon reaching the road, he followed it downstream a quarter-mile to the bridge, crossed over the river, then came back upstream by the road on the other shore. Once he was almost directly across from his home, he turned onto the lane that wound its way through the woods and came out near town.
He hadn’t gone very far into the woods when he heard Molly call his name. What now? Wasn’t it enough that he was going for another toy? Did she have to add something else to the list? He looked behind him but didn’t see her. She must still be back by the river. He waited a minute for her to catch up, but not hearing her coming, he started to backtrack.
He didn’t meet her along the trail, and on reaching the river he didn’t see her anywhere along either road; yet he knew he had heard her. Surely, she wouldn’t have tried crossing the iced-over river. It wasn’t thick enough to support a person’s weight. He pushed through the brush to the river’s edge, and to his great distress saw a large hole in the ice. There was no sign of her; although a rescue would have been impossible alone even if there had been. It was several days before her body was found.
Reuben was a different man afterwards. The once laughing man became very somber and no longer participated in community events. His only remaining interest was to rear his son and keep him safe. And this he had done. Luke was grown, had a good career, and was just starting a family.
Reuben again repositioned himself on his stone seat. Whether it was from the cold or from sitting too long, he didn’t know but he could no longer feel his backside. He looked at the moon and estimated it to be past midnight.
“Merry Christmas, Molly,” he spoke aloud toward the river. “And happy anniversary. It would be our thirtieth now, if you were still with me.”
He stared at the river. Sheet ice had formed more than halfway from each bank toward the middle. And even there the flow was sluggish due to the amount of snow and ice it carried. If the temperature held like this another few days, the river might even ice over completely; as it had so many years ago. But also like then it couldn’t be walked on. The current was too swift for ice to ever get thick enough.
He watched as the moonlight shone through a patch of mist near the middle of the river. The play of light and shadow made an interesting pattern. Soon he felt his insides clench as the swirls of mist seemed to form a shape. Could it be? He took a chance.
“I’m sorry about everything,” he said to the shape. “I’ve come here and said it every year, but I didn’t know if you could hear me.”
The figure in the mist appeared to nod.
“Do you forgive me?” he asked.
The figure nodded again and this time smiled. He was seeing it clearer now. He paused to catch his breath and choke back the knot in his throat.
“I didn’t know you’d try to walk on the river,” he continued. “I didn’t know when you called for me that you needed help. But I guess it’s best I didn’t. If I had seen you struggling, I couldn’t have stood it. I wouldn’t know whether to stand and watch you drown or to die myself trying to save you.”
The figure opened its mouth as if to speak. It didn’t make any sound, but he could hear the words in his head just as if she had spoken aloud. “You did right. Luke needed you here.”
Reuben nodded slightly. “Yes. I guess I’ve known that. I just wanted to know you felt the same. He’s grown now. And he’s met a nice girl. She reminds me a lot of you. I didn’t know how much Luke remembered you until I met the wife he chose.”
The figure of Molly smiled brightly. Reuben noticed he could see her even more clearly the longer they talked.
“Why did you come after me?” he asked. Again, he felt rather than heard her answer.
“After you left I felt a strong sense of dread come over me. I thought it was you in danger, so I came to tell you to come back home. I wanted to make sure we’d be together for Christmas. That second gift could wait and be a day late.”
He nodded again. “Well, I think it’s time we can be together again. Luke doesn’t need me any longer. He has his own family now.”
Reuben became aware that he was numb all over and that he hadn’t been feeling the cold for some time. He worried for a moment if he’d be able to stand up. But as he made an effort, he felt lighter than ever. He started to look back at where he’d been sitting, but quickly changed his mind. He didn’t need to see whatever was back there.
“One more thing, are you really the spirit of Molly, or just my imagination trying to give me peace?”
The figure didn’t answer, she just smiled and held out her hands toward him.
“You’re right,” he said. “It doesn’t really matter.”
= = =
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“For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: ‘It might have been!’” John Greenleaf Whittier, in Maud Muller, 1856.
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