The Perfect Love Song_A Holiday Story by Patti Callahan Henry

Author:Patti Callahan Henry [Henry, Patti Callahan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781593156169
Goodreads: 8576583
Publisher: Vanguard Press
Published: 2010-10-12T00:00:00+00:00

9

Here is where you must be careful: not all things are as they appear to be.

—Maeve Mahoney to Kara Larson

The paperboy rode his bike through the frigid streets of Seaboro, throwing the plastic-wrapped newspaper over his shoulder with the same move he used for his fastball on the baseball diamond—this was how he practiced and made cash at the same time. He hated this time of year not only for the cold but also for having to dodge the Christmas decorations people put in their front yards, the strings of lights and wires that caught his bicycle tire in the predawn. When he reached Charlotte’s house, he threw the paper, not knowing he was delivering news that should have come another way, news that should have come from Jimmy Sullivan himself.

Charlotte was already standing in the kitchen holding a cup of coffee and staring into the beginning of a day when the thump of the newspaper hit her porch. She opened the front door and grabbed the bundle. Her mind on anything but the news, she unwrapped the paper and stuffed the rubber band in the junk drawer—just like every morning. The paper flopped open on the countertop, and she read the headline twice before she understood, before the words held any meaning. The announcement in the Seaboro morning paper was splashed in capital letters: SEABORO’S OWN JIMMY SULLIVAN TO SING AT RADIO CITY ON CHRISTMAS EVE. Her hand shook; coffee splattered across the counter.

She hadn’t spoken to Jimmy in days and now she knew why: he was off in his own land. He was gone from her; she’d felt it, and now she knew it.

The article remained unread, the coffee soaking through the print as Charlotte walked into the living room. Really, why did she need to read it? The headline told her everything she wanted to know. He’d moved on with this new life, with the name Steele and the cowboy hat. He didn’t care enough to tell her he was singing in New York City and wasn’t coming to Ireland. Of course he wasn’t. He couldn’t be in New York City and Ireland at the same time. She plugged in her prelit, perfectly decorated but fake Christmas tree. She turned a key for the gas fireplace, threw in a match, and sat in the threadbare lounge chair, the one she’d been meaning to recover but hadn’t yet because she loved the old faded chintz.

With her notebook in hand, she stared at the tree, at the gas fire licking the fake logs, and wished it were all real: the logs, the tree, Jimmy’s love. But they weren’t. And maybe none of it had been.

What is real? she wondered and began to write lines about the false fires we light and the spark of truth we might not ever see.

* * *

Jimmy awoke to his cell phone buzz. He groaned. He’d never been so tired. He glanced at the screen, but the leftover whiskey fogged his mind and his eyesight.

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