Christmas Requiem

By Sherry Boardman

Mary Simmons is experiencing unsettling emotions during the holiday season. She has divorced an irresponsible husband, lost an elite home, luxury car, and an administrative position when the bank closed its doors without notice. Christmas is only a few days away and even with two jobs, it isn't certain there will be enough money to pay for her children's few gifts in layaway. She misses the smiles and happy times once shared. Their dreams are as dismal as the dreary place they now must call home. Is there still such a thing as Christmas joy?

David Johnson is on the opposite end of the spectrum with a six-figure executive position and lives in an affluent neighborhood. However, he also is dealing with the Christmas requiem. He lives alone. His adored children live some distance away with their mother. And the job he holds no longer has the challenges that once excited him. There is no one with whom he can share the promise of a beautiful future. Or, is there?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sherry Boardman
• Release date: Nov 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466053823

Sherry Boardman

After retiring from education and wanting to stay busy, I dug out all the manuscripts written through the years and began a new career, that of author. Smashwords has been amazing in its assistance in preparing for final publications. I was born and raised in Texas. Although I have lived in other states, I always return home to my roots. My books are written from the heart with my readers always in mind. I hope you find much enjoyment in allowing your mind to wander to other times and places and will return to my site often to see the latest creation available.

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Christmas Requiem

by

Sherry Boardman

Copyright 2011 by Sherry Boardman

Smashwords Edition

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From the Author

This is a work of fiction. Names and characters and locales, other than those specifically researched and listed in the source reference section, either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Christmas Requiem

Chapter One

Mary said goodnight to the sitter and softly closed the door. After locking both dead bolts, she crossed the small living room and sank down on the threadbare couch. With a heavy sigh, she kicked off her shoes and leaned back against the worn, flat pillows, gazed at the ceiling, and noticed a new water circle. The rain had not let up for three days, and she expected the sheetrock to begin drooping at any time.

Her feet were throbbing. A tub of hot water would be the perfect cure for all of her aches and pains from being on her feet for five hours waiting tables after eight hours of wrapping gifts at the small vendor's cart at the mall. But the bath was dismissed since the water heater had cratered two days ago, and she didn't have the strength to heat and tote it to the tub. The landlord had promised to have another one installed by yesterday. Threatening to deduct the inconvenience from her rent would, most likely, be answered with a notice to vacate. It didn't seem to matter the children were in need as well.

She swept her hair back from her forehead and massaged her temples. The doctor had given her a script for stress and anxiety, but there just weren't enough funds to have the prescription filled. Insurance coverage was certainly a thing of the past. And the loose change jar had nothing but pennies filling it up. Even that effort had slowed with the economy's woes. She needed every cent.

She pulled her purse out of the satchel rescued from the trash dumpster. The vinyl was scratched and torn, and the zipper had disappeared long before she claimed it. But it was large enough for her purse and a change of clothes and shoes for her evening's part time job. She dug for the thin billfold buried under several bills marked past due. From one of the slots, she found the purpose of the search. Tears threatened when she punched in the phone number on the card to verify the amount of food stamps available. Not much. But perhaps enough for a decent Christmas dinner. She had tried to prepare her children for a lean holiday this year after her job ended. However, even with the extra job and food stamps, other obligations would cancel a nice juicy turkey and all the trimmings. Boiled chicken legs and stovetop stuffing would be the main course. A can of sweet potatoes were in the cupboard, but there would be no marshmallows or pecans. And pumpkin pie? That was only a picture in a magazine.

Glancing at the stack of mail on the table, she knew the child support check would not be among the envelopes. Her ex-husband's whereabouts weren't even known. Tears trickled down her cheeks and her hands covered her face to quiet the soft sobs that were visiting more frequently. Finally, she lowered them and stared at the manger scene displayed in the middle of the kitchen table. No festive tree would grace their living room this year. No stacks of colorfully wrapped gifts would be stacked beneath. A few insignificant items were on layaway, but unless her tips at the diner increased, it would be impossible to pay the balance due. The American Dream was just that. A dream.

The sound of footsteps on the hallway's cold, bare floor startled her. It was late. Both of them should be asleep at this hour. She saw the blond curly head easing around the door facing as Evie peeked into the room.

Momma? she whispered.

Yes, Evie, Mary answered. It's Momma. Dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, she faked a smile at her youngest tiptoeing across the floor toward the couch, a thin-haired doll from the thrift shop tucked under her arm.

Did you work late?

Yes, Evie. Momma had to work late.

The little one crawled up on the couch and snuggled next to Mary. We have some soup left.

Tears threatened once again as she gathered her youngest into her arms and pulled her into her lap. With everything Evie could have said, her only thought was if her mother was hungry.

I had a salad at the diner, sweetie, Mary said. But thank you for thinking of me.

Evie crawled out of her mother's lap to sit next to her. Small fingers stroked her mother's arm.

It's going to be okay, Evie said quietly. We had good Christmases before.

Mary looked down into her four year old's hazel eyes. The sparkle to gladden anyone's heart had dimmed. There was no need to relate to her children