You Can Count on Me

“Eric?”

“Grace…”

“You sound like you are talking through a tin can,” I pointed out as I shifted from foot to foot in ankle deep snow to keep warm. The method of attack was having little effect on the biting cold wind. My plan to take the phone call outside had looked good on paper – there wasn’t a room in that house that would have offered me the kind of quiet I needed. But obviously there were some things that I had not taken into account. Like, you know, the fact that it was winter outside.

“It must be THE STORM.”

Of course he hadn’t actually yelled the last two words. The emphasis was my own imagination. Two days ago it was just another storm churning up on the eastern seaboard, a blot on an otherwise clean weather map. Now it was THE STORM, the one thing standing between us and the perfect Christmas. “You are not calling with good news, are you?” I asked, and there was a pause long enough for my heart to drop into my stomach.

“My flight has been delayed again…”

I nearly let out a huge sigh of relief. Delayed. I could work with delayed. Delayed meant he was still coming. Even if he wouldn’t arrive until nearly midnight at this point – he was still coming. I bit my lip before speaking. “Do you know when you’ll hear more?”

I could practically hear him shaking his head. As it was, I imagined him slumped over on a bench in the airport, looking worn. He certainly sounded worn. I wondered how long it had been since he had last slept. “I heard rumors that they will reassess in an hour…” The phrase ‘it doesn’t look good’ hung in the air between us.

He didn’t need to say it – I already knew.

Behind him I heard the scrap of the door and turned to see Linda Staal standing there with a look on her face that told me she was considering pulling my underdressed behind back into the warmth of the house. Knowing that I didn’t have long, I moved from side to side again ignoring the threat of frostbite for the moment. It was hard not to think of the worst possible outcome and therefore it was hard not to get emotional. I felt a little silly standing there on the front steps of his parent’s house filled with the need to let him know just how I felt. “Eric…I love you.”

“You know I love you, Gracie,” Eric answered immediately and like always those three words seemed to transform me. A smile curled my lips and for a moment I believed that everything would be okay. “I will call you later,” he promised.

And then he was gone – and so was that warm fuzzy feeling.

I stuck the phone back in my pocket and turned back toward the open door where Linda still stood. Her brows were furrowed together and her mouth was set in a grim line. “Bad news?” She asked and I could see that like me, she was doing what she could to hold it together.

“Delayed,” I said simply as she is reached out automatically, her warm hand closing around my wrist to give me a gentle tug into the house. I was immediately hit by a wave of heat generated by a wood stove. I shrugged off the jacket I had hastily grabbed when the phone had rung and slipped off my shoes.

“He’ll be here,” she said with the conviction that must be innate in a parent.

I wished I shared her confidence.

“Go relax,” Linda instructed. She was already on her way to the kitchen. I had offered to help, and had been ceremoniously shot down. I knew better than to ask again – this family had taught me the meaning of ‘no means no’ quite quickly.

I had no choice but to do as she said and ‘relax’. I made my way toward the living room, shaking my head at the sound grunts and shouts. It seemed that no matter how old they were, if you put more than one member of the male species in the room together they had to wrestle. At the moment, Jordan was on the bottom of the pile, with Marc and Jared seemingly working together. I walked past them, ignoring the kick to the ankle one of them shot out. Settling on the couch, I reached for the remote.

Surely there must be some festive film to distract me. After all it was Christmas Eve.

I tried to watch the grand adventures of Rudolph but in the end the Weather Network drew me in like a siren call. THE STORM was the top story. How could it not be? It was poised to be a Grinch stealing Christmas from thousands of unsuspecting souls. I could just imagine the news anchors rubbing their hands together in glee and thinking of witty puns and flashy graphics to headline the news. The blot didn’t look so insignificant now – it loomed over New York, New Jersey and most importantly Pennsylvania where Eric now sat in a Philadelphia airport grounded until further notice. Some red headed woman wearing too much makeup was listing of statistics – the amount of snow expected, the speed of the wind…but to tell the truth it was pretty much in one ear and out the other.

I heard felt the couch dip as one of the Staal brothers launched themselves over the back to land next to me. I slowly turned my head to find myself eye to eye with Jordan. “They finally decided to let you up?” I asked, wondering if I could distract myself by engaging in one of my favorite pastimes – ribbing the blonde one.

Jordan made a face. “They let me up because they knew damn well if they didn’t they‘d be eating teeth before long.”

Behind me, one of the remaining two snorted. I didn’t bother to check which one it was.

I shook my head. “Threatening physical violence…is this another Staal family tradition I don’t know about?”

“Hell yeah,” Jordan answered immediately. “It wouldn’t be Christmas if someone wasn’t sporting a black eye. Just ask Eric…” He winced realizing he had touched on a rather sore spot. And since I was sure he had plunked himself down next to me with the sole purpose of cheering me up, I would imagine he felt a measure of guilt for bringing up the missing piece of the puzzle. “But don’t worry – you’ll pick up on the family traditions soon enough. You survived Thanksgiving.”

I wanted to point out that it was only because I had Eric planted firmly by my side, leaning over to whisper guidance on when to offer my help to his mother without it being construed as some sort of insult, on how to handle his overly curious aunt who wanted to know everything down to my blood type….without him to serve as backup, I was feeling a lost.

It was not as if the Staal family wasn’t a welcoming one. It has been a little over a year since Eric Staal came into my life and flipped it upside down in the best way possible – and never once did I feel like I couldn’t just walk into the family homestead. Open door policy – that was what Harry had referred to it has the first time I met him (after he nearly crushed me in a bear hug). No, his family was quickly becoming my own. But still, without him, sitting in the living room as the day faded and the Christmas lights began to stand out…well, it just felt as if the most important part of me was missing.

“He’ll be here,” Jordan added, unconsciously echoing his mother’s earlier words. “If only to prove that he can…” Definitely not like his mother. I couldn’t help smile at his attempt to cheer me up. I decided that it was worth the risk of insult – I would help Linda. Sitting here staring at an insurmountable blot while Jordan waxed poetic about his brother was filling me with nervous energy.

I leaned over and poked Jordan hard in the side, grinning as he yelped. “It might not be a black eye…” I said as I stood. By the time I had walked past the tree with the presents piled high his brothers had descended again, like sharks scenting blood in the water.

I managed to convince Linda to let me set the table, though I think the job was given to me out of pity of my current emotional state. It was an half hearted effort – to be honest, I kept waiting for my phone to ring.

It didn’t ring until we were well into dessert (actually I had pushed mine off onto Marc who was only too eager to devour another piece of his mother’s apple pie). The happy chatter around the table stopped immediately and all eyes were on me. I realized for the first time that like me, they were desperate for news.

“Excuse me,” I said politely pushing back my chair. I couldn’t have this conversation with an audience. I retreated to the living room, pulling out the phone. “Eric…”

“Grace.”

And he didn’t need to say anything else. The tone of his voice gave him away. I sank down onto the nearest piece of furniture, and tried not to burst into tears. “Cancelled?”

“Cancelled,” he confirmed sounding as far away as he was.

I closed my eyes, the perfect picture of our first Christmas together shattering. I twisted my free hand into the fabric of my sweater, wrapping my arm around myself in some sort of effort to keep calm. I couldn’t quite find my voice.

“I’m sorry, Gracie,” Eric told me.

“It’s not your fault,” I assured him. It was the fault of the league for scheduling a Cane game on the 23rd of December. It was my fault for letting him talk me into going to Thunder Bay a few days earlier instead of Philadelphia with him (at least we’d be stranded together – I am sure there was a Christmas tree somewhere in that airport that we could have sat at the base of come morning). It was Mother freakin’ Nature’s fault for placing THE STORM so cruelly in his path.

I had tears in my eyes now and I swiped at them immediately.

“Are you still there?” Eric asked. Apparently I had been silent too long.

“Yes.”

“Please don’t cry.”

A smile twisted at the corner of my lips. How well he knew me.

“Gracie, just listen to me, okay?”

I had a feeling he was about to launch into a motivational speech.

“I know this is not what you pictured for our first Christmas together but we can make the
best of it.”

How well I knew him.

“How?” I asked, the pent up frustration, anger and sadness threatening to spill over in the worst way possible. As a result, my voice was shaky, louder than I had intended. I wouldn’t be surprised if a head or two poked around the corner of the living room. Perhaps I hadn’t retreated enough.

“Christmas in Thunder Bay is a special thing. I am sure tomorrow Marc or Jared will pull out of bed before the crack of dawn – those two never could sleep through the night. And Mom will make enough food to feed the neighborhood…and that’s just for breakfast. They’ll take good care of you, Grace…they already love you like your one of their own,” Eric told me. It hit me now – what he was missing. He had years of traditions and memories built up, many of them in the very room in which I sat. Here I was lamenting the fact that I had my perfect Christmas blown to bits and I was the one ‘stuck’ with a family of great people. He was facing Christmas morning at some nameless hotel…alone. I felt guilty for acting like a petulant child.

“I’m sorry, Eric,” I told him, meaning every syllable. It should be the other way around. If one of us was going to be waylaid by THE STORM, it should have been me.

“It’s not your fault,” he said in a direct echo of my words. “And I’ll be there by tomorrow night. I promise.”

“I am holding you to that,” I advised him.

“Do one more thing for me?” Eric asked.

“Of course.”

“There is a present under the tree with your name on it. I want you to open it in the morning. Don’t wait for me. Do what you are supposed to do on Christmas morning,” Eric told me. I understood what he was trying to say. I shouldn’t mope; I shouldn’t spend the day racing through the hours until he would arrive. I should let Jared or Marc drag me out of bed and I should open presents with the rest of the family. I should enjoy the Christmas that I had been given, no matter how far from the original version we had envisioned it was.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“I’ve spent all day on this hard chair. Now that things seem final, I am going to find a bed. I’ll call you in the morning,” Eric said. He fell silent for a moment. When he spoke, I wondered if, like me, he was holding back tears. “There will be other Christmases.” The implication of his words brought a smile to my face instantly.

“I love you.” I felt like I needed to say it again. I felt like I needed to say it as many times as I could.

“I love you too.”

When I returned to the dining room a moment later, everyone already knew what I was about to tell them. It cast a rather somber mood over what little remained of the meal. I knew this was not what Eric wanted – he wanted us to be happy, to enjoy the holiday. Which is why I suggested a round of cards, despite knowing better (Jordan was right – I had survived Thanksgiving but not without learning a few things).

By the time it was pitch black out, Jared was probably the best candidate to be sporting the traditional Christmas shiner and Harry proved once again why I would never ever agree to play cards with a Staal unless under distress. I yawned, which did not go unnoticed by Linda. “To bed – the whole lot of you. You wouldn’t want to be awake when Santa arrived now would you?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “As much as I want to stay up and watch Santa fill Jordan’s stocking with coal…” I received a solid kick under the table. “…I can barely keep my eyes open.” I was the first one to stand, and could only escape to Eric’s room after I had given each and everyone a hug. Linda lingered the longest and I knew she was doing as I was – making the best of the situation before us.

Curled up in Eric’s bed, away from the laughter and surrounded by things of his childhood it was hard to hold onto what he had said. I thought back to that moment when he had asked me to spend Christmas with him. He told me he knew he was asking to give up time with my parents and sister but he promised to make it worth it.

It was hard to keep that promise when he was thousands of miles away.

I lay flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. Don’t do this to yourself, don’t do this to yourself…it became a mantra until I finally drifted off. I awoke sometime later on my side. My eyes flew to the clock, hoping to find that time had passed quickly and that it was almost morning. Instead I discovered I had managed to sleep for all of an hour.

And thus began one of the longest nights of my life.

I tossed, and turned – torn between doing two warring factions in my brain. Logic told me to do as Eric said – to embrace what I had and make the best of it. But my heart, oh my heart, was still holding on to what I had been wanting for so long: that perfect first Christmas with the man I loved.

Finally, at a little after four in the morning, I pushed back the covers and grabbed an old sweater of his from the closet to keep out the cold. I quietly made my way in the dim light to the living room, settling on the couch with my knees up under my chin. I found myself staring at the tree. Every now and then a homemade ornament stuck out from the polished balls and pewter figurines. Linda had told me that no matter how much the rest of them protested she didn’t have it in her to part with the things the boys had made over the years.

I stood now, crossing the space to the tree. I had my eyes zoned on one ornament in particular – I knew it was Eric’s. I curled my hand around the paper angel, noting that he had colored out of the lines and scribbled his name haphazardly on the back. I could imagine seven year old him sitting in class at school grumbling over having to color a ‘girlie’ angel.

I was smiling when I heard the soft snick of a door being closed.

I had obviously not been quiet enough in my escape. I wonder just which member of the Staal family was the light sleeper.

“Gracie…”

My eyes widened as the familiar voice found my ears. I had to be hearing a wrong. I could hear the soft pad of feet and then he was behind me. I breathed deep, and was filled with the familiar comforting scent of him. I must have drifted off – I must be dreaming.

“Hey! I am particularly proud of that ornament!”

My eyes focused on the angel and I realized I had crushed my fingers around the paper. I immediately let go, spinning on my feet so I could look him in eyes. “Eric…” I breathed, my hands landing on his chest. He felt solid beneath my fingers, albeit a bit cold. I couldn’t pinpoint my exact feelings at the moment. Elated. Confused. I was sure I was standing there with my mouth slightly open.

He took advantage, his head dipping so his lips could claim my own. The shock wore off at the first touch and my hands moved to link together at the base of his neck. I kissed him back earnestly, the last twelve hours of pent up frustration and worry melting away. Finally he retreated enough so we could breathe. My eyes searched his face. “I don’t understand.”

“I flew around it,” Eric explained, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my head on his chest concentrating on the solid thump of his heart. He was really here. “From Philadelphia to Kentucky. From Kentucky to Iowa. From Iowa to Toronto. From Toronto to Thunder Bay.”

I tried to wrap my mind around just how many hours on a cramped plane his travel path meant. I tried to wrap my mind around the cost. I tried to wrap my mind around what he had done. “Why didn’t you call?” I asked, the fingers of my hand playing with the hair on the back of his head.

“I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. I knew it could be over with each step I made,” Eric told me. He rested his chin on his head and I could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I just kept calling ahead, frantically trying to find that one connection that would get me closer. I think I had someone up there on my side...”

I closed my eyes for a moment thanking whatever higher power that had delivered him into my arms.

“I did it for you,” Eric’s voice was so quiet, his mouth nearly buried in my hair. For a moment I thought I hadn’t heard correctly. I raised my head and knew by the look on his face that he was speaking the truth. “I couldn’t stand the thought of spending our first Christmas together stuck in some hotel room. This is where I wanted to be – right here in your arms. I had gotten three feet out of the airport before I knew I would do anything to make it so.”
I knew right then and there that I didn’t care one iota for whatever was under the tree with my name on it. Having him do all that that for me, having him here…it’s more than I could have asked for. My face broke out in a goofy grin and I couldn’t resist letting out a tiny squeal. He laughed. “Ideally, I wanted to find you in my bed, kiss you awake...I would have gotten my wish had I not felt the need to play the good son and stoke the fire first.”

“I don’t care if you found me up to my ears in flour in the kitchen… you’re here,” I told him. I launched myself at him this time, my lips finding his easily. It was a giddy kiss – both of us seemingly desperate to make up for lost time. I could have stood there forever with him but in a house of seven other people it was not meant to be.

“Oh gross.”

“I don’t remember putting up mistletoe there.”

We pulled apart enough so I could look over my shoulder. There were two redheaded Staals standing in the entrance to the living room, wiping the sleep out of their eyes. I raised an eyebrow as I looked back to Eric. “You weren’t kidding about the early riser thing were you?”

He just shook his head. “Merry Christmas, jerkfaces.”

“Oh Lord,” I muttered knowing what was coming. That inexplicable urge to pummel one another was coming over them. I wanted to hold on to my nice fuzzy moment as long as I could. “Don’t make me give one of you a black eye,” I warned, standing in front of Eric with a finger pointed at the advancing brothers.

“Why ruin the tradition?” Jared asked with a grin.

I narrowly missed being tackled by him myself. While the boys reunited in the only way they
seemed to know how I busied myself by plugging in the tree. The others wouldn’t be far behind, especially seeing is how Eric had Marc pinned to the floor demanding that he say ‘uncle’. I looked back to the wrinkled paper angel and doing my best to smooth it out when the hall light came on. It wasn’t long before Harry and Linda come rushing into the living room to survey the commotion.

“Eric!” Linda cried happily, seemingly uncaring that her sons were tying themselves into one big knot.

“Told you’d have to show us all up!” Jordan announced as he picked me up to move me aside and join the fray.

I watched in horror as the four grown men acted like children. Finally I stomped my foot. “Give it up!” One of them, I have no idea which, wrapped his hand around my ankle and gave a solid tug. Down I went landing right on top of Eric. He let out a whoosh and then looked up at me with a glint in his eyes that told me that he was the culprit. “You are so lucky that you flew thousands of miles to see me,” I told him before I leaned down for another kiss - which proved to be a more effective way of breaking up the horseplay. I heard the groans of the other three and suddenly it was just the two of us on the floor.

“I am lucky,” Eric confirmed.

I conceded Eric to his parents for a few minutes, smiling as they hugged their son and heard the tale of how he ended up on their doorstep. Within a half an hour, breakfast was underway and I was cuddled up underneath Eric’s arm. Jordan was eyeing the presents and Harry was recounting the time when Marc had tried to crawl up the chimney after Santa.
I looked up to see him laughing at his father’s story. He must have felt my eyes on him because he glanced down. “What?”

“I love you,” I told him in a hushed tone to avoid the disgusted groans of his brother.

“And I you,” Eric answered, brushing his lips across my forehead.

This is what I wanted – this was my perfect first Christmas with the man I loved.

This is what Eric had promised me.

And he had come through.