136 comments/ 57223 views/ 22 favorites The Pinion Pine Tree By: sophist801 To understand why the decorated Christmas tree was so out-of-place it is important to have a visual picture of where the Christmas tree was. The road leading to Bishop from Mammoth Lakes can be beautiful and austere at the same time. Mammoth Lakes is at 7,600 feet and Bishop is 4,600 feet. The drive "down" takes about 30 minutes and takes you through mostly stark and barren land. Sage and dried grass sprinkled with a few gnarly juniper trees constitute the rolling land scape. Here-and-there reddish-brown outcropping of rock further contribute to the starkness of the terrain. To the East the craggy snow-capped Sierra Nevada range looms like a painted back drop. About 13 miles south of Mammoth Lakes Sherwin Summit tells you that the elevation is 7,000 feet and the immediate decent almost requires decompression. At the least I begin my gum-chewing to help keep my Eustachian tubes open. Christmas last year Cheryl, my wife, and I got into an argument about whether the top of our Christmas tree should be decorated with a star or an angel. I was opting for a star because it represented, for me, the Star of Bethlehem and lit that evening to guide three Wiseman to the baby Jesus manager. Cheryl thought an angel needed to go on top of the tree, not because it represented the host of angels or anything remotely Christian, but because it gave the tree a richer, classier look. I relented and we ended up placing a white velvet angel on top of the tree. It was, in the end, a beautiful Christmas tree. After turning around on Highway 395, so I was once again driving south I slowed down to get a better look at the 8-10 foot decorated pinion tree. It appeared to be the only thing growing within 50 yards and I was surprised I'd never seen the tree. Then again I never expected to see a decorated Christmas tree in the middle of "no-where". The tree had a large gold star perched on top of it. The star didn't tell me anything other than the fact it provided an eerie reflected light as the early morning sun seemed to make the tree a beacon. I had to smile thinking I finally had a Christmas tree decorated the way I would have done it. Nonetheless it hurt to see the tree because of the memory it evoked. To think I'd spent most of this last year trying to "get over" last year's Christmas Eve surprise, that is, finding someone I loved so bad it hurt, with someone else. Sometimes you just don't "get over" things. You might grow old and through the grace of early onset Alzheimer's Disease be spared the painful memory of your love and how the emotion hurts like hell. Maybe this is the thing that causes people to turn bitter inside and shun the outside world? So what happened that Christmas Eve? Cheryl had called from work to say she would be home around 8:00PM. She was apologetic and contrite and I did my best not to get angry. If it hadn't been for the fact that she had been "working late" frequently the last few weeks, spending less and less time at home, I think I simply "lost it" as I tried to inquire as to who works late on Christmas Eve? Who ignores their family? In the end I think I simply told her to do what she wanted and hung up on her. It was also the first time she'd called to tell me she had to work late that I didn't believe he! Yet, I had to run a last minute errand to pick up her Christmas present, a pair of diamond earrings and matching pendant. I had ordered them several months ago and began making payments early on to afford such an expensive gift. I knew I loved Cheryl dearly so I rationalized her working late would give me time to pick up her gift and finish roasting the prime rib. Yes, I had cooked Christmas Eve dinner complete with her favorites that included a sour cream apple pie for desert. In many ways it was also a romantic dinner designed to feed her senses and present her with a gift of my love. While at the jewelry store picking up the gift I received a call from my brother who wanted to wish me a Merry Christmas. He was calling from the Chart House where he was having dinner with his entire office. When he learned I was alone until Cheryl got home he persuaded me to join him for a drink. It didn't take him long to convince me so I tucked the gift for Cheryl in my jacket pocket and drove to the Chart House. I remember being surprised so many people were out on Christmas Eve shopping, eating, drinking and having a good time. That probably gives you an idea about how "traditional" I can be, even if I try and present the "liberal" front. My brother Harry was his gregarious self and was at the head of a long table to the back of the restaurant with glass windows as the backdrop. When he saw me he waved me over with a half-finished drink in his hand. I think back on that evening as if it was a slow-motion film that plays over-and-over in the back of my head. I remember smiling as I caught sight of Harry having a good time and smiling along with his infectious joy. I walked with a confident stride through people seated at fine-dining tables smiling and laughing. I also remember glancing to a row of booths along the opposite side of the restaurant where families and couples ate and drank. It was a very intimate setting with a fireplace fire burning in the center of the restaurant. Stopping in the middle of the restaurant I remember seeing something that was so out of place that I didn't at first believe what I was seeing. Cheryl, my wife who had to work late, was at a table with a man I did not know. Cheryl was wearing a tasteful silk blouse that was unbuttoned 3 buttons down. She looked absolutely beautiful. What caught my eye was the fact she had a hand extended across the table, a hand that this man was holding. Both seemed lost in conversation so they never noticed me retrieve my smart phone, a Droid, and snap off two rather clear photographs. "Smart" phones really aren't very intelligent; they just allow you to do so much more than make a phone call. I can access my three email accounts, send messages, and take video records and photographs that tell more of a story than what is visible to the naked eye. I was so shocked at what I just witnessed that thinking was out-of-the question. Without speaking I turned and walked out of the restaurant. I did not look back or say hello-good-bye to my brother. I just remember sending the photographs to my personal email then getting in my FJ and making the drive to our condo. In retrospect I often wonder what would have happened if I had walked over to Cheryl's table punched her date and confronted her. Retrospection is wonderful but it never changes the reality, whatever the reality is. I remember being hurt and shocked to the point where I simply felt, foolish. I felt foolish because I'd believed my wife; I'd loved her to the point of trusting her blindly. I felt foolish for feeling foolish then I got angry with myself for feeling foolish. "So much for having to work. Merry Christmas Cheryl." The words seemed to slip from my lips like a gastrointestinal belch. No one heard me. When I made it home the smell of roasting prime rib hit me. It now was just a smell that did not make my mouth water. My appetite would not return until my body screamed for sustenance. I do remember, for a moment, wondering how long her affair had been going on, and then I thought it no longer mattered. Yes, I immediately assumed she and the well-dressed man were having an affair. At the very least Cheryl had blatantly lied to me. Yes, I was feeling sorry for myself and just wanted to be someplace far away where bull shit explanations were not necessary. At the same time I wanted friends and family to know why, on Christmas Eve I simply disappeared. Without thinking much about what I was doing I printed off the two photographs and wrote on one these words, "So much for working late. I hope you will now be happy. Merry Christmas!" I dropped diamond gifts on the dining room table, un-wrapped, the price tag attached to the small boxes. Yes the table was set with a linen table cloth, her mother's fine china, crystal wine goblets and sinning silver wear. I had gone all-out for this Christmas wanting it to be as memorable as possible. I'd wanted my wife to know how much I loved her. Now I wanted her to feel my disappointment and my pain and I wanted her to feel it now! I reasoned she would not feel anything, especially if she could lie to me so easily on Christmas Eve! Before I had time to think about what I was doing I created a distribution list that included several of our close friends, my brother, her parents and her current boss. (Did I mention the "Smart" phone let you do so much more than make phone calls?) I then attached the two photographs and added the following caption, "Who is this man dining with Mrs. Vasser on Christmas Eve? If you know him please DO NOT TELL her husband, he thinks she is just working late! Merry Christmas!" With a single click of the "send" button the message and photographs flew across cyber space to multiple destinations. Yes, Cheryl would receive the message as well. Within an hour I had packed most of my clothes into my FJ Cruiser, along with a few personal items like my computer. Then I drove off into the night. It was Christmas Eve and I had wanted to go to midnight Mass but Cheryl thought she would be too tired when she got home. Now she would not have to argue with me about whether or not we would go to church. After all going to Church was something she clearly could not be bothered with when a lover held her now clandestine hand! Via email I resigned from my job with "immediate effect", took all of our savings, canceled my personal internet access, and drove off into the night looking for a star. I drove west towards Lake Tahoe then veered off southwest towards the road that would take me south to Mammoth Lakes. That was Christmas Eve a year ago and I had, until seeing the decorated pinion tree, "come to grips" with the fact I would be spending another Christmas this year alone. Only this time I was doing so with my eyes open and by choice. There was nothing, other than the star atop the tree that made me think Cheryl had anything to do with the decoration. After a few minutes of appreciating the Christmas tree for what it was I climbed back into my FJ and continued my drive into Bishop. When it is super-cold in Mammoth Lakes Bishop is a good place to go to get warm and maybe have a Thai food meal at the County Airport and do a little grocery shopping. This was not a Christmas where I had anything planned and I was not buying gifts for anyone. I'd thought about getting something for my brother and his children then rethought the idea. I had not contacted anyone; friends or family, for the past year so now didn't seem like the best time to re-establish contact with anyone. The other reason for driving to Bishop was to work with the Salvation Army doing a little bell-ringing between now and Christmas. I'd taken a part time job working for Mammoth Hospital as a Psychologist, mainly to keep my skills sharp and largely because I derive great pleasure from helping people less fortunate than I, even if I'd been unable to help myself. It also helped me keep my mind off of my own depression and loneliness. Until last Christmas Eve I had always thought I was a fairly together individual. Now I wasn't so sure and did not have the confidence I once wore on my sleeve. Learning to ski had helped control those anxious moments and, if I was to be honest with myself, had helped heal my broken heart. Seeing the decorated pinion tree on Highway 395 had done nothing but rattle the skeletons that still haunted me, I just did not want to admit I was still a pretty fucked-up guy. My chocolate lab and "confidant" sat beside me as I greeted people going into and leaving the Vons grocery store. The dog and I were quite a team as people would stop to put change into the red can that swung from the Salvation Army tripod. Children always stopped to pet my dog and ask his name. People, more out of guilt, would leave a little something extra for those less fortunate. I learned early that if I was with or near people I could maintain fairly well. I also started recognizing people who were "locals", some would stop and say hello, but I was still a fairly withdrawn individual and I liked it that way. After all I had run-away a year earlier with every intent of not being found. I also learned I didn't need much to live on and be relatively happy. Making other people smile and feel good about themselves, was all that seemed to matter. Just as I had put everything into a Christmas dinner for my wife I made sure I shared as much as possible with people who befriended me. Frequently I would not charge my patients or would at least charge them less than what I could charge for. Yet the loneliness remained. "Hi Tom." The words came from behind me and to my left but I recognized the voice as if I'd heard it that morning. When I turned I was looking into the eyes of Janice, my wife of a year ago, from a time and place that was now more a dream than a memory. She was a bit thinner, if that was possible, and she looked like she had lived in Mammoth Lakes all her life and never cared about fine clothing, manicured beauty and things that go along with superficial make up. I was wondering, for a moment if this was really Janice or simply a halucination. "Janice, Merry Christmas." I was ringing that little bell that drives many people crazy. It was my volunteer job. I did not stop to hug or give her a warm greeting. The bell-ringing was, at that moment, a way to cope with the shock of suddenly seeing her. An older woman going into Vons dropped a dollar bill in the red can so I stopped to say, "God bless you and Merry Christmas." The old woman smiled and ambled into the store on legs that probably were full of arthritis. "Doing a little grocery shopping today?" I asked Janice in as neutral a way as possible realizing that not seeing her for a year left me with little to say to her. At the same time I was more curious than anything else. I wasn't so much curious about what had happened to us as I was curious to see if she would be up-front-and-honest with me. I was also curious to know if we were still married. I smiled at the irony of her cheating, or at least lying to me to be with someone else. "Maybe, but you are the reason I am here. Do you realize how hard it was to find you?" I wondered why she would bother looking for me, she had looked so happy last Christmas Eve, holding hands with someone not myself. "Merry Christmas . . . . Merry Christmas . . ." I was now greeting people going into Vons with less attention. "Was the decorated pinion tree something you did?" My question brought a slight smile to her face. "You noticed? Like it? You will never know how difficult it was to even figure out where find such a tree." "Yes, it is nice. It reminds everyone who sees it, especially on that long open stretch of highway, what Christmas is all about. Merry Christmas and God bless you sir." It was good to remember what Christmas was all about, even if I was still trapped in the recessing of my mind, harboring an image of Janice holding hands with someone else. "So, Janice, why are you here?" I was doing my best to remain civil when what I wanted to do was scream at her to go back to her lover. Working as a bell ringer on a busy day before Christmas was not the best place to air hurt feelings. Yet, as I thought about it, a public clearing of the air, so to speak, might be just the thing we both needed. "I owe you a Christmas Eve dinner, an explanation and an apology. You also need to know I never stopped loving you." Janice did not hesitate or lower her voice so no one might over hear her. Two young girls, maybe 15 or 16, had stopped their chatter to look at Janice then back to me, probably at hearing the words "loving you." I never stopped ringing my little bell. In fact I may have actually begun to bang it with a little more force to increase the projected volume. If I was nervous it was being displayed in my bell-ringing-wrist action. If I was holding back pent-up anger it was beginning to emerge in the increased volume of the bell-ringing. The communities of Bishop and Mammoth Lakes are comprised of, maybe, 15,000 people combined. More than 1.5 million tourists cycle in-and-out to ski, hunt, fish and hike the rugged wilderness. It was more local folk that would shop the Vons so it would only take one person to visually record enough of our discussion to tell the communities all the juicy gossip. "Hummm . . . I am curious, are we still married?" By the time my question left my lips both of the teenage girls, watching in wrapped and un-characteristic silence were joined by a co-worker from Mammoth Hospital. The co-worker was an Emergency Room nurse who loved the world of "chismoso", gossip. Great, I thought to myself, now everyone at the Hospital will know all about my dirty laundry. A Vons employee leaving the building to retrieve shopping carts left in the parking lot also paused to eavesdrop on our now very public discussion. "Yes, we are. And you have a son who was born August 13." My inclination was to ask her how she knew it was my child but I did remember making love to Janice a couple of weeks before that fateful Christmas Eve. "His name is Tom Vasser Junior and he has your deep blue eyes." I would reserve judgement because I had never seen Tom Junior to make such a judgement. "Merry Christmas, and thank you mam." A middle aged woman dropped a couple of one dollar bills into the Salvation Army can and stood back. The woman seemed to be smiling and did not immediately go into Vons. She remained at a respectable distance to listen to the exchange between my wife and me. The scene was becoming a little weird. A glance at Cheryl told me she was uncomfortable with our audience. I continued to ring the bell and didn't care if people were donating because they felt charitable or just wanted to hear the rest of our story, as sad and lonely as it was. I wanted to ask Janice about the man she was with last Christmas Eve but decided this was not the time or place. Was I really a daddy? Should I be happy or sad? "I know what you must be thinking, why didn't I tell you about your son? I didn't know until early January when I missed my period and was lost in my own self- pity. When you left the way you did something snapped inside and the guilt made it impossible for me to even work. So I did not, at first, think I was pregnant. Then I had no idea where you had gone and that drove me further into depression." "So why the hell did "he" leave you?" It was an older woman who had stopped to listen to our conversation and was almost-rudely pointing to me. The older woman had rightly deduced that I had left Janice. When the bystander interjected her question I didn't know if she was upset with me or Janice. She was probably just impatient and wanted to know what happened so she could get on with her shopping. Janice looked from me to the older woman, who was on her way into Vons to do a little grocery shopping, and then back to me. I was tempted to suggest we take our conversation someplace private then changed my mind. Don't ask me why, but I needed to know if she would be honest in a public situation. "Well, he saw me with another man on Christmas Eve and it must have hurt him." Hurt me was an understatement. It had ripped my heart out and left it in the gutter to wallow in pity. It looked like Janice was about to cry as she took a breath before continuing. The bystanders gathering around had grown to 12 maybe 13 people. I continued to ring the little bell and people continued to put money in the Salvation Army can. A Deputy Sheriff stopped to see if everything was OK then drove off after talking to a few people he knew. The Pinion Pine Tree "That's all?" It was the same little old woman. Her grandmotherly impatience was beginning to show and I got the impression she was hoping for something a little juicier. "No, the man was an old friend who was in the Army and was being deployed January 3." Janice stepped closer to me so she could look me in the eye as she spoke. The gesture of moving closer and waiting to make eye contact was not missed by the crowd. "Before Tom and I were married the man, whose name is Jack Baumgartner, were, well, we had been intimate. We knew long before I married you (she was speaking to me and close enough to touch me) that things would never work. He was military and would be gone a lot. I was young and a little on the wild side. It wasn't the sex that attracted me to Jack. I think it had been the draw of uniform and fact he was risking his life for his country." "Lady, you need to get your priorities in order fast or God will smite you! Do you have any idea what it takes to keep a marriage together for 47 years?" Cheryl seemed stunned into momentary silence. "I thought not. It may be romantic at first then it is hard work and hanging together through the tough times. It is combat and your primary comrade is your husband! No wonder her left you?!" The older woman turned to retrieve a shopping cart. "I don't need to hear any more. Merry Christmas young man and Gog bless you." The older woman gave me a hug then disappeared into the grocery store. Yes, older women married 47 years can get away with being instantly judgmental. The rest of the crowd began to go about leaving the Vons or going inside to do their shopping. Only the two teenage girls remained. They were dressed in jeans and flannel shirts looking like they were farmer's daughters. They would occasionally stop to whisper to one another. There were no little-girl snickers from either of them. "So, Janice, after sleeping with soldier-boy what is it you want? Why are you even here? Last Christmas Eve wasn't enough for you?" I had tried to refrain from saying anything cutting, derogatory or mean spirited. As soon as the words slipped from my lips I regretted my utterance. After taking a breath Janice spoke. "I want you to come back to me. I want Tom's father back. I want to make amends. I want to love you and only you and I want to put a star on our families Christmas tree." The two teenage girls seemed to be holding their breath. Janice stood before me, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "I want to be the one to fix dinner for you Christmas Eve." If you had not experienced a long year of living alone trying to cope with the fall out of your marriage then the impassioned words would be moving and most convincing. I was beginning to realize I was just a tad bit doubtful and my anger and hurt would not simply "go away". There were just a few questions I needed answers to and wasn't getting them. That was probably why I was really getting angry. I stopped ringing the bell and just stood looking at Janice, the woman who was still my wife. Reconciliation, in my mind, was not going to happen. It would not be as easy as sharing a meal. There was still an "elephant in the room" and too much hurt to sit back, smile, and say OK. I'd spent a year re-building my life and was very, very guarded. "No." The words slipped from my mouth softly. I think the two teenage girls had stopped breathing. My "no" meant there were things not yet processed or understood. "No?" Janice had a little-girl look that was ever imploring. It was full of sadness and questions. "No, means I can't go back to you. I live here, have a job seeing clients who depend on me . . . and I am the best bell ringer the Salvation Army has." I think Janice was trying to smile. "You are asking me to give up a lot to return to a life that ended badly. Besides I don't really know what I did to drive you into the arms of another man and I don't know if it will ever happen again . . . to see you turn away from me, to deceive me, the way you did last Christmas, is something I don't think my mind and heart could bear a second time." Janice came just a little closer to me, stood on her tip toes, and kissed me softly on the lips, then on the cheek. It was the first time since before last Christmas Eve anyone had kissed me. Judah's' kiss of betrayal flooded my conscious thought. Janice had no reason to betray me now but the image of being sold-out came to mind nonetheless. "I think I understand. I will find a way. Before I leave would you like to meet your son?" If there was one thing that would make me drop everything it was the prospect I really had a son. After all it had been a son, the birth of a baby boy whose parents could not find a place to sleep for the newborn, that was the promise of salvation. It was a son that could melt my protective heart making me forgive everything. I just nodded my Ok. It was enough for Janice to walk across the driveway to her car to get Tom Jr. who was asleep in the back seat car seat. I still had no answers. There had been no apology. My bell ringing began again as Janice walked back to me with my son. My son? I knew I wanted "my son" to be in my life, even if I was marred with a heart-ache memory. At the same time I did not want to be held hostage, so to speak, by a baby. Birth should be something joyful, something that brings people who love each other together. Did I still love Janice? Was my anger and hate too much to allow us peace of mind? "Tom, meet your son, Tom. Tom, say hello to your Daddy." Tom junior was less than 4 months old so he had grown out of the ugly-baby appearance. What makes a newborn beautiful isn't their physical appearance it is the miracle of the conception and birth. It is the miracle that is beautiful even if the conception is scarred with sin and deception. "He's beautiful . . . you must be very proud . . ." Remember I was just meeting this infant for the first time! Internalizing he was of my flesh and blood would come later. "He is the only thing that has kept me alive. When he was born I made a promise to him that I would find you before Christmas Eve." Tom Junior seemed to be waking up with the sound of his mother's words. He had too much of the "newborn" look for me to see any real familial resemblance and I think it may have been a look of doubt that triggered Janice to speak. "He is yours Tom. When he was born the blood tests confirmed a blood match and I also had a DNA test done to make sure, to be able to prove to you he is your son and . . ." Janice did not complete the sentence. She had said enough to tell me she needed to be sure who the real father was. "Tom, please believe me when I tell you there is no one else in my life. Tom Junior reminds me daily of what I did to our marriage and your love. I will live with that the rest of my life, a kind of stigmata. I am so sorry for hurting you!" Then Janice turned to take Tom Junior back to her car. Without looking back at me she got in and drove out of the parking lot. If the sound of her voice while ringing the Salvation Army bell was weird the brief meeting with "my son" was even stranger. When I turned to look at the two teenage girls they were watching me and holding each other as if sitting in a theater watching a soapy girl flick. The tears in their eyes told me they were not afraid but reflected the sadness I'd lived with for the past year. At that moment I felt estranged from a family I had never really known. If it was not for the bell-ringing I think my sanity and self-control would have completely slid away. As I made the 42 mile dive back to Mammoth Lakes I had much to consider. I live in a small but comfortable one-bedroom apartment in Mammoth Lakes. The hardwood floors and stone fireplace give it a clean but warm feeling. Before I got back to Mammoth Lakes I received a phone call from the Hospitall asking me to come is and do an intervention for a 58 year old man who had attempted suicide. It was Christmas Eve day and the number of people with anxiety and depressive disorders was five-times what it is when the sun shines and there is nothing to look forward to. I was thankful I was able to help other people rather than ruminate over my own problems. By the time I finished my rounds at the Hospital I realized I was exhausted as well as confused. The gentleman who had attempted to committ suicide was an alcogolic who lived alone, had drank too much and was lonely. I think what made me feel especially tired was the thought that I could be all alone in 20 years, depressed and suicidal. The thing I was looking forward that Christmas Eve was going to Midnight Mass, which would be at 8:00PM in the cold and snowy town of Mammoth Lakes. SoI hurried back to my apartment when my last patient gave me a hug and left. By the time I slipped into a sweat shirt and pulled my gortex parka over my head it was snowing heavily. I smiled as I began the four block tromp through the snow. The blue Christmas lights put up by the City seemed faint and the wind chilled me to the bone. My thoughts turned to what my son might be doing the eve of his first Christmas. I was kicking at lose snow as I remembered my dog would want to go out to pee and play. Pee and play? If only life could be that simple? I did not smell the roasting prime rib as I keyed my front door, probably because it had been so cold outside. After all, it was Christmas Eve and the only thing I was looking forward to was a hot toddy, bowl of soup and company of my faithful furry friend. "Tom! It is about time you got home." I stood in the doorway, stunned to see my father with a mug in his hand. There had already been a plethera of surprises. "Come in, come in! It is too cold to stand there with your mouth open." What was my father doing in Mammoth Lakes in my apartment?! I had not seen my parents in more than a year! Before I could say anything further my mother rounded the wood columns supporting the high ceiling roof and gave me a big hug only a mother knows how to do. Keep in mind I had not seen or spoken to my parents for the entire year. Seeing them made me feel guilty but good. "Get your jacket off and come eat. We don't want to overcook the prime rib . . . your timing is very good." I must have had the deer-in-the headlights look on my face. As my mother spoke I heard a baby cry from my single bedroom. "Cheryl will be right out; Tom Junior had a little accident and is probably just hungry." "Accident?" Cheryl was here? "You know, he filled his pants." I was still too surprised to speak. When Janice emerged from the bedroom dressed in a Christmas apron and carrying our son I realized I was not going to be able to fight what was happening. Everything felt, right? I was wondering how we would all be able to sleep in the single bedroom apartment. Then I realized it didn't matter, things were going to be alright. "Tom!" Janice came over to me with our son in her eyes, wrapped her free arm around me and kissed me. "Merry Christmas Tom." She whispered the three words in my ear then kissed my ear. I noticed she was wearing the earrings and pendant I'd given her last Christmas. "They look nice, don't they!? We need to eat if we are going to make Mass." Janice wanted to go to Mass? Janice, Tom Junior and I went to Mass. I needed to drive my four-wheel drive FJ. Though the snow was deep we made church with three minutes to spare! It was inside the church that I first held my son. With Janice beside me and my son gurgling I don't think I heard a word the Priest said. My parents did not stay with us that night, opting to stay at the Rafter's Lodge. They also did not go to church with us, saying they were too old and cold to be out on Christmas Eve freezing to death. With Tom Junior bundled in a portable basinet it was like sleeping with Janice for the first time. No, we did not make love that night, but we did do a little cuddling. It was also the first time in a year I actually slept through the night. When I woke the next morning Janice was sitting up in bed, her night shirt pulled aside to allow Tom Junior access to a beautiful breast. As she suckled Tom Junior, who seemed most content, I thought I was suddenly very fortunate. There were still unanswered questions and I would not be able to move on until I had honest answers. But those questions could wait. Yes, I would be able to forgive whatever transgressions Cheryl had committed but I would need to know the extent of the transgressions. "You still have questions, don't you?" I leaned on one elbow as I watched Cheryl breast feed little Tom. "Guess so . . . if you ever knew me then you understand I will never be able to pretend nothing happened." Cheryl cradled Tom Junior's tiny head as he hungrily sucked. Mother and son were beautiful. Cheryl seemed somehow at peace even if it was a practiced peace. "You know, the moment I received your email message, and saw the photograph of Jack and I, I knew what I was doing may have destroyed our marriage. As I was showing the photographs you sent to Jack your brother walked up to our table and just stood there looking at me. Harry just shook his head and walked back to the table where he'd been sitting with his friends from work." She stopped to think for a minute before continuing, adjusting the diaper she was using to catch Tom Junior's spittle. "For what it's worth I never slept with Jack . . . I think I wanted to but could never get past my Catholic guilt. So I had a couple of dinners with him and agreed to meet him Christmas Eve for an early dinner at the Chart House. When you took the photographs we were reminiscing about our youth, earlier years, when we were carefree and I'd thought in love." I watched Cheryl as she spoke wondering, trying to remember why I'd fallen in love with and married her to begin with. I'd always, until last Christmas, trusted her. I'd always found her to be witty, intelligent and an incredible lover. My expression must have shown the depth of my doubt. Cheryl, who appeared the ever-loving mother, let little Tom's head fall from her breast, exposing her extended nipple that dripped the last few drops of her milk, Tom appeared content and seemed to fall asleep in her arms. "I remember looking at the photographs of Jack and me, seeing images that seemed foreign to me. I could see me with my little-girl-love-struck expression and instantly feeling sick and repulsed, not because they were images of ugliness, but because I immediately began to experience what you must have felt!" "Cheryl, you will never, not in this lifetime, experience my sense of pain, shame and inadequacy." I'd interrupted Cheryl and waited for her to continue. "Maybe so, but over the last year, giving birth to our son, being ostracized from friends and family, left me realizing the depth of how I must have hurt you. I'd already begun the process of trying to find you, knowing that making amends might take me the rest of my life. But I needed to find you to explain, apologize, to tell you I now know you are the man I love and want to spend my life with." Cheryl stopped speaking long enough to let herself breath. "At the same time I am a realist and know you may not want me in your life . . . but your son . . . you needed to know your son." Cheryl pulled her bra up to cover her breast then re-adjusted the stylish flannel shirt. Cheryl had let her hair grow long and her face had filled-out becoming a little rounder than I remembered, probably from having a baby. After adjusting her shirt she seemed to sit quietly rocking Tom Junior softly, stopping to kiss his forehead. I'd spent the last year trying to forget Cheryl and her Christmas Eve betrayal. Cheryl had spent the last year giving birth, alone, and beginning the process of raising our son, alone. Other than what was in front of me, mother, child, and the crackling of a fire-place, I realized I did not really know Cheryl. I wondered how much pain and suffering we needed to endure before moving on with our lives. Cheryl, still rocking our son, continued her story. "By the time I got home last Christmas Eve, I sensed more than anything else, that you were not there. The smell of prime rib along with fresh baked apple pie seemed to slap me in the face rather than greet me. After calling out to you for the hundredth time I collapsed at the table you had set for us. That was when I discovered the diamond ear rings and necklace, your card and noticed the lit Christmas tree we'd decorated a few days earlier. I regretted all of the arguments we'd had, especially the one over the angel and the star." Cheryl was now crying as she spoke and I realized she wasn't wearing any make up. It gave her a clean, innocent appearance. I realized, more intuitively than cognitively, that Janice was not hiding anything from me. "As I held your wonderful gift I made a pledge that, one day, I would find a way to make things right between us, even if I had no idea where you had gone. By Christmas day I found myself alone, praying you would walk in the door. You never did." There was a long silence as I slipped out of bed heading for the bathroom. It seemed like a good place to let my dog out to pee and play in the snow before grabbing a cup of coffee. When I returned Cheryl had put Tom Junior down in the middle of my bed and was cleaning up the small kitchen that was off of the great room. "Cheryl, I have one more question." "Anything Tom." "Whatever happened to Jack Baumgartner?" She must have known I was going to ask this question because she did not hesitate to respond. "After the photographs appeared on my phone, and I would learn later, everyone else's phone, I left Jack sitting at the restaurant table. I'd shown him the photographs so he would understand why I left as abruptly as I did." Cheryl seemed to force herself to breath as she continued. "I have not seen or heard from him since that night. He was supposed to deploy in early January for someplace overseas but that I cannot confirm." "And, if you are wondering, I have not had any desire to know what happened to him either. I'd already risked everything and swore I would not jeopardize anything in the days between then and now." Then and now was the time between last Christmas and this Christmas. "That was when I sent out my text message to you and everyone else on your distribution list." I remembered the text message as if I'd just received it. It read, "The man sitting next to me is Captain Jack Baumgartner. I know him and am afraid I have made the single biggest mistake of my life." At the time the message was not enough for me to call Cheryl, to return home or re-think leaving her. Later that morning, after the snow plows had cleared most of the streets in Mammoth Lakes, Cheryl asked if we could go see our Christmas tree I had just smiled nodding yes. By the time we were on highway 395 from Mammoth Lakes to Bishop, it was easy to find the decorated pinion tree. The sun was shining and the ornaments glistened brightly. After parking the FJ and stepping out into the cold morning the first thing I noticed was the star perched on top of the tree. There were also at least a dozen or so vehicles pulled to the side of the road, some trudging through the snow to take pictures. Some people, with children, had walked over to the tree to appreciate every ornament. One older man, who appeared to be alone, had stooped to leave a single wrapped present beneath the tree. Like a little kid who shakes his wrapped presents to guess what is inside, I fought the urge to do the same with the old man's pinion tree gift. "Tom?" Janice held my arm and snuggled close for a little added warmth. "Yes?" I was mesmerized by the decorated pinion tree. "Can I come home?" I didn't have to think about my answer. Janice, my son and I had been separated far too long.