It was cold that year, colder than Kris could remember. She had spent so long 'down South', that the chance of possible snow was enough to make her drag out her heavy jacket. An icy wind whipped her dark hair into her eyes, and she stumbled before pulling her hat down further.
A woman with a red apron over her coat sat on a chair outside of McClendon's, ringing her bell. The sign on the tripod read Salvation Army, and, as Kris watched, a few people dropped in their spare change.
Kris could remember men dressed as Santa standing on nearly ever street corner, ho-hoing and wishing everyone a merry christmas as they rang their bells next to the tripods for the Salvation Army. "Merry Christmas," Kris muttered, and turned away.
She didn't know what it was, but...she just wasn't feeling Christmasy this year. As if by rote, she'd put up the tree and decorations; sent out the obligatory Christmas cards.
Maybe it was the atmosphere. After the September 11th attacks, the nation had banded together. Fire fighters and police officers were heroes again. The country was more patriotic than Kris could remember.
But there was so much hype. 'Don't let the terrorists win, go shopping' seemed to be the motto this year. Everyone was outdoing themselves to offer more and more lucrative deals than the next store or airline or what have you. 'Live your lives like before the attacks', but there could be no going back. That day affected so many people in so many ways.
How many children had lost their parents in the Towers? At the Pentagon? Aboard the planes? How many people were without jobs this Christmas season? Instead of sitting at a desk in the World Trade Center, what were they doing now?
Kristina shook her head. The general concensus seemed to be just donate to a charity, and go on.
Until that Christmas eve, Kristina had done just that. She'd dutifully gone with the flow, donated to the Red Cross and several World Trade Center related charities, then gone on with her life. She still ate chinese take-out every Thursday and ordered in pizza every Friday. She didn't know anyone personally involved, so...life went on.
Standing there, outside of McClendon's Department Store, Kristina stopped for a second, noting the red, white, and blue ribbon on the woman's red apron. She dropped a dollar in red metal bucket, and went on her way. The woman continued ringing her bell, never even saying thank you, or happy holidays, much less merry Christmas.
Standing by her car, loading it with the presents she'd just bought, a frigid gust of wind tore the hat off Kris' head, and she caught it before it could fly away. Muttering to herself, Kris tossed the hat on the front seat. It was after she'd shut the door and was starting around the car that she noticed her.
The woman was about twenty or so. Her belly was round and heavy with child. She sat on a bench a few feet away, crying, as the wind tore through the sweater she wore.
Kris hesitated, then hated herself for it. The woman was obviously cold, and something was very wrong. People just did not sit on public benches crying their eyes out...not if they were sane, anyway.
Curiousity more than anything had Kris pulling out the blanket she kept in the car for emergencies, and walking over to the woman. She stopped just short of the woman, hesitating again. Shaking her head, she draped the old Indian blanket over the woman's shoulders. Blue eyes filled with tears met hers. "You must be cold," Kris said inanely.
The woman nodded. "Thank you," she stammered, wiping her eyes, clutching the blanket around her.
Kris sat next to her. "What's wrong? Maybe I can help?"
The tears poured out anew, and Kris could have kicked herself. With a sigh, she put an arm around the woman's shoulders. Even through the blanket and sweater, Kris could feel the boniness of the woman's shoulders. Upon closer inspection, Kris saw that the woman was younger than she'd first supposed...maybe sixteen or so. Her heart twisted. "Come on," Kris said, helping the woman rise, "let's get you something hot to drink."
"Oh, no, I can't," she cried. "I don't have any money..."
Kris shook her head. Springing for a cup of coffee wasn't going to kill her. "My treat," she said with a smile, leading the young woman toward her car. Kris opened the door, watching as the young woman lowered herself into the bucket seat. "Now you stay here, and I'll be right back."
The woman grabbed her arm. "Thank you," she said softly, smiling through her tears. Kris smiled, nodded, and went into the nearby 7-11.
Steaming cup of hot chocolate in her hand, Kris emerged from the store, half expecting the woman to be gone, and all Kris' Christmas presents with her.
But she wasn't. The young woman still sat in the front seat, blanket draped around her. Kris climbed in the driver's side and handed her the cup of hot chocolate. She watched as the young woman curled her hands around the cup. At least her tears stopped, Kris thought.
"Thank you so much," the young woman said, blowing on the hot chocolate then taking a tentative sip. "I just don't know what I'm going to do."
Kris could detect some sort of accent, but couldn't quite place it. It did sound familiar, though. "Maybe I could do something," Kris offered.
The young woman shook her head, blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. "Oh, no, you've done so much already."
So much? Kris thought. It was only a blanket and something hot to drink. Besides, her curiosity was bubbling over. "Really, maybe I can."
The young woman looked undecided for a moment, then spilled out her story, "My name is Carol. I was supposed to meet Joe here tonight, he's my baby's father," her hand curled protectively around her middle, "but he's late, and I can't reach him. I left messages on his cell, but..." She swallowed hard, wiping her eyes that had begun to tear once more. "He was supposed to be here hours ago, and it's getting so cold. I don't have anywhere else to go...I don't know what I'm going to do," she sobbed, tears falling in earnest.
Kris wrapped an arm around Carol's shoulders. "Call Joe, and tell him he can pick you up at my house. I'll give you the address."
Carol's blue eyes were wide. "But you don't even know me..."
Kris shrugged. "I know, but...I just can't leave you here alone."
Kris drove home slowly, a light snow had begun to fall. She was glad that Carol sat beside her. "When's the baby due?" Kris asked.
Carol beamed. "Any day now, the doctor says."
"How old are you anyway?" Kris asked, turning onto her street.
"Sixteen," Carol answered, and Kris nodded, having already guessed as much.
At the house, Kris refused Carol's offer to help with the packages. It didn't take long for Kris to get Carol settled. A quick microwave dinner, and Carol was soon curled up on the couch in front of the TV. "Make yourself comfortable, and if you need anything, let me know."
In the kitchen doorway, Kris paused. Her eyes took in the Christmas tree with it's old fashioned ornaments and twinkling lights. Santa's sleigh and reindeer hung suspended just over the tree. Minature Santas hung on branches. The Nativity drew her eye. Long standing tradition demanded having the Nativity beneath the tree. It had belonged to her Grandmother, and was handed down to her when her Grandmother had passed away. It was old, had always seemed that way to Kris.
Baby Jesus slumbered peacefully in His manger.
Kris' throat tightened. "Maybe Christmas means a little bit more," she whispered, then turned and entered the kitchen.
In no time at all, groceries were put away. The dishes were done, and had been put away. Everything was where it belonged. With a smile, Kris pushed open the kitchen door.
The living room was empty. The blanket she had draped around Carol to keep her warm lay folded neatly on the couch...right beside a package. A piece of paper lay on top of the blanket.
Without thought, Kris picked up the paper, and started to read:
"Dear Kris...
I know people believe that heroes have to do something brave or courageous to be a hero.
Sometimes, all you have to do is just be.
Merry Christmas,
Carol"
Kris set the paper aside, and swallowed hard. With shaking hands, she picked up the package and unwrapped it.
Her eyes widened. It was her Grandmother's shawl. Her Grandmother had made it when she had been pregnant with Kris' mom. No one had seen the shawl in years...not since she had passed away.
Her grandfather clock chimed the hour, and Kris sucked in her breath. "My God," she whispered, clutching the shawl to her chest. "It couldn't be." She sank down onto the couch, remembering....
Her grandmother's name...was Carol.
