The Christmas Mirror(Darrell Case) Steven stepped inside the house he had shared with Mandy. The place seemed to sag with loneliness. It was so…so… he searched for a word. Empty. So... cold. He felt like a stranger in his own home. He didn't call out. Why should he? No one would answer.
After the last two weeks of Mandy's illness and death, Steven believed he was all out of tears. Yet as he stood in the stillness, tears moistened his eyes. Never again would he hear her soft footsteps coming down the stairs to greet him. Her radiant smile was lost forever. He always looked forward to coming home. Mandy would welcome him, smelling of lavender after her bubble bath. She always applied fresh makeup, swept up her hair the way Steven loved it and wore a dress that complemented her bright blue eyes. No matter what time of the day or night, she would meet him with a hug and kiss.

Closing the door against the deepening twilight, he leaned against it. Tonight, in her grave, she wore her best dress, complete with her wedding band and the watch he gave her last Christmas. In the crushing quietude, realization crashed down on him. Never again would he hold her, hear her voice, share her secret dreams. He slid to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

He let his thoughts drift back to the first time he saw Mandy in kindergarten. Even at that young age, her beauty
struck him. Having arrived five minutes earlier, he fancied himself more experienced than she. As soon as Steven saw her enter the room, he pulled away from his mother's hand. Running up to Mandy, he blurted out, "Welcome to Tinder Garden!" Darting behind her mother, she peered out at the strange boy. His smiling face and twinkling brown eyes reassured the little girl. Soon he was holding her hand and showing her around the schoolroom.
Over the years, their lives became interwoven. Steven endured his classmates’ teasing about being in love goodnaturedly. Any time a grownup asked if he had a girlfriend, he answered with an enthusiastic “Yes!” When questioned further as to whom the lucky girl was, he just smiled. He would never dishonor Mandy or subject her to ridicule.

At 16, they began to date. There was never a question whether they would go steady, it just happened naturally.
Their parents suggested they date others to be sure they were right for each other. It wasn’t necessary. They both knew in their hearts no one else would do. The year they turned 18, he asked her to marry him. She said yes almost before the words left his lips. They wed that year on Christmas Eve, giving that day special meaning for them. Every Christmas Eve thereafter, they spent the evening cuddled together in front of the fireplace, talking and dreaming of the years ahead. Let others go on their round-the-world trips or dine in expensive restaurants. They just wanted a quiet evening together at home. While Christmas carols played on the stereo, they talked of their love for each other, their hopes and dreams for the future. Little did they imagine that this Christmas Eve Mandy would be in her grave. Sixteen glorious years as husband and wife were gone. Gone forever. The finality of it was incomprehensible to Steven. Tonight he would spend Christmas Eve alone, thinking of her and only her.

Pulling himself up, Steven walked on wobbly legs into the kitchen. "Mandy. Dear, sweet, beautiful Mandy," he moaned. "I miss you so much." With both of their families gone, for many years it had been just the two of them celebrating holidays together. He stepped to the small oak desk in the corner where Mandy kept her recipes and figured her household budget. Was it only last month she had sat at this very desk planning the menu for their Thanksgiving dinner? He opened the middle drawer and smiled in spite of himself. It was just like Mandy to keep the stationery, pens, pencils, stamps, and odds and ends so neatly organized. Mandy believed in the adage 'A place for everything and everything in its place.' Only one thing was out of order, a small leather notebook partially hidden under some receipts. Sitting down, he picked it up and opened it. Seeing her delicate writing was bittersweet. He gently turned the pages. In his mind, Steven could see Mandy sitting in this chair penning notes about life. Wiping a tear from his cheek, he sighed and read some of her entries. There were grocery lists and reminders of upcoming
events, including reminders for this very day: Put pumpkin pies in oven at 9 AM. Bake ginger bread cookies at 1:00.
Finish at three and clean up, be ready when Steven comes home at five. Steven turned the page. It was blank, as was the next one and the one after that. He was about to close the book when he noticed her feminine writing on the very last page. December 10. Take the money from the jewelry case in the bedroom. Make the final payment on Steven's ring at Leverman's. Steven will be so surprised. He never suspected I've been saving for his Christmas present from the household budget. I can hardly wait. I have wanted to give him a diamond ring for so long. This will be a dream come true.

Steven stared at the page. Could it be true? Of course. It was just like Mandy to think of others, putting their wants and needs before her own. Still holding the notebook, Steven walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. In a daze, he stumbled down the hallway. As he approached the door to their bedroom, he hesitated. For the last three nights, he had slept on the couch. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing this empty room, the room where he and Mandy had shared their love and life. Reaching out a trembling hand, Steven pushed open the door and tentatively stepped inside. On his left was the bed he had shared with Mandy for the past 16 years. His legs began to tremble. He forced himself to walk across the blue carpet. Baby blue, Mandy called it. Last year she bought the drapes and bedspread to match. As lovely as it was, the room felt cold and foreboding. Remembering the ring, Steven stood before the vanity. His pale, haggard face stared back at him through the oval mirror. He picked up the heart-shaped jewelry box he had given her last Christmas. His fingers caressed the red rose stitched in its top. He trembled as he tenderly opened it. He felt a surge flow through his fingers as Love Song drifted through the room. Laying Mandy's earrings and necklaces aside, he removed the bottom tray. A hundred dollar bill and several slips of paper lay underneath. He picked up one of the white pieces of paper. Squinting in the dim light, he read: June 10, Received of Mrs. Amanda Beckett, $100 for ring #345. He counted four more receipts, duplicates of the first, all with different dates leading up to November. Each one was signed by John Leverman. Switching on the bedside lamp, he picked up the phone book. Keeping his finger on the listing, he sat on the bed and punched in the number. He glanced at the clock. Almost five, probably too late.
"Leverman's Jewelers," a tired sounding voice answered.
"How may I help you?"
"Hello. This is Steven Beckett. My wife, Amanda, has…
er, had a ring on lay-away," Steven said in a hollow tone.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Beckett, I remember your wife. A very nice young lady," Mr. Leverman said. "She came in faithfully
on the tenth of every month. Always paid with a hundred dollar bill. The last installment was due on the first of this
month."
Steven's heart quickened. The last gift from his dear wife was only a few blocks away. He desperately wanted that ring. It was a token of her everlasting love for him. He needed it. It would be a lifeline to his beloved Mandy. "I'll be right down to pick up the ring. I have the final payment."
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Beckett. When the final payment wasn't made, the ring was returned to inventory."
"Well then, bring it out of inventory," Steven said indignantly.
"Unfortunately, I can't. The ring was sold this afternoon," Leverman said. "When Mrs. Beckett didn't come
in, we assumed she had changed her mind."
"Did it ever occur to you to call?" Steven snapped, his voice rising along with his temper. "Couldn't you have just
picked up the phone and called?"
"We tried to call several times, Mr. Beckett, but we never got an answer," Leverman said wearily. A kind man, he
hated dealing with angry customers. "We waited until today, hoping your wife would come in and claim the ring."
"She couldn't. She's dead," Steven said flatly, another flood of tears escaping from his red-rimmed eyes. "Her funeral was this afternoon. Can you believe they bury people on Christmas Eve?"
"Oh, Mr. Beckett, I'm so very sorry for your loss. I had no idea." Leverman said, his voice cracking.
"Perhaps if you could tell me who bought the ring, I could purchase it from them," Steven said, his voice losing
strength.
"I'm very sorry, one of our temporary salespersons sold the ring while I was at lunch. The customer paid cash so
there's no record of their identity," Leverman replied gently.
"Wait a minute. Don't you have a warranty form for your customers to fill out?" Steven asked.
"Yes, normally we do. Unfortunately, the salesgirl forgot and the customer didn't mention it."
"So just like my wife, the ring is gone," Steven said, his heart sinking.
"I'm afraid so, Mr. Beckett. Of course, we will refund your deposit or let you select another ring."
"No. No other ring will do," Steven said. He hung up with Leverman's apology ringing in his ears.

Exhausted, he stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. Was it only two weeks ago that he came home to find Mandy lying in this same spot? That was so unusual for her that he was instantly alarmed.
"It's just a bad headache," she said with a weak smile. "I took some aspirin. It'll be gone soon." He kissed her cheek and closed the door.
In the kitchen, he put two frozen dinners in the microwave. That was the extent of his culinary skills. After checking his email, he prepared a tray for her, complete with a silk flower. Nudging the bedroom door open with his knee, he
set it down on the nightstand. He gently he touched her cheek. She was burning up.
"Mandy, Mandy!" he cried. When she didn't respond, he shook her. He couldn't wake her. Choking back sobs, he
carried her blanket and all down to the car. Weaving in and out of the afternoon traffic, he raced to the hospital.
Reluctantly, he released her into the care of the emergency room staff. Unable to sit still, he paced the waiting room and hallway. The hands on the clock dragged. They seemed stuck.

An hour passed, then two. His heart quaked as he waited to learn his precious wife’s fate. Finally, he saw the doctor coming down the hall, his white coat flapping, his expression solemn. "Mr. Beckett, I’m Dr. Miller. I'm the chief neurosurgeon here at Mercy," he said. Taking Steven's arm, he guided him to a nearby couch. Sitting down beside the frazzled young husband, the doctor’s voice was low. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."
Steven’s heart was gripped with fear and dread. "Is she going to be all right?" he whispered.
The doctor grimaced as if in pain. "Your wife has suffered an aneurysm of the brain. If we don't operate immediately, we will lose her. If she does survive the surgery, her chances of living a normal life are only about one in five."
"Please do everything you can to save her, Doctor," Steven said with tears running down his cheeks.
The next few hours were sheer agony. At 4 AM, a weary Dr. Miller came out of surgery to find Steven waiting just
beyond the double doors. "She's alive," the doctor said with a thin smile. "She's a fighter."

Mandy remained in a drug-induced coma. With each passing day, she became stronger. Steven read to her constantly from her favorite books. He slept in a chair by her bedside, not leaving even for meals. His heart soared when Dr. Miller said she might be home for Christmas. Then, three days ago, another aneurysm left her helpless
and dying. The call came as Steven was preparing the house for her homecoming. He rushed to the hospital. As he came out of the elevator, the floor was in chaos. He hurried to her room in time to hold her in his arms as she died. That was three days ago, three of the longest, most harrowing days of his life.

Pushing up from the bed, he walked across the room to Mandy's side of the closet. Sliding open the door, his eyes
searched the racks. Way back to the left, almost to the wall, he spotted the little black evening gown. Any time they went out, this was the one he wanted her to wear. "Sweetheart, you know I do have other dresses," she would tell him as she stood with her hands on her hips, pretending to be exasperated. "Of course dear, but you look like a princess in this one," he would answer, holding it out to her. "All right. Just this once." Her look was stern, but she
couldn't hold the false expression long. Her mouth would start to twitch, then like the sunrise on a beautiful spring morning, her smile would break through. Carefully removing the dress from the wooden hanger, Steven buried his face in the fabric. He breathed in her scent. She had worn the dress so many times the fragrance of her perfume was infused in the cloth. He felt as if he were holding her in his arms once again.

Dancing dreamily across the room, he bumped into the vanity. It shook, causing everything on its surface to tumble to the floor. Kneeling, Steven carefully picked up each item and placed it back where he thought it had been. The antique hand mirror lay on the floor on its face. Steven, you stupid idiot, he said to himself. I'll never forgive myself if it's broken. With trembling hands, he touched the silver frame. It felt strangely warm. Mandy prized this mirror so highly. It was one of the last things she touched before he rushed her to the hospital. He had found it clutched
in her hand. Slowly he turned the mirror over and breathed a sigh of relief. The glass was intact. He held it lovingly in his hands, remembering that day several years ago. Mandy enjoyed visiting antique stores. However, this was one they never knew existed. Following the faded signs, they drove until the blacktop road turned into a gravel road, then something resembling a cow path. They finally found it nestled in a small valley miles from the highway.
The store was pretty much a dilapidated shack. Her face flushed with anticipation, Mandy leaped out of the car and
sprinted to the building. The creak of the door hinges announced their entrance. The proprietor, a woman with
scraggly gray hair in her 70s, welcomed them with a gap toothed smile. As if drawn to it by a magnet, Mandy began
rummaging through an old wooden box. Less than a minute later, she held up an object so tarnished it appeared moldy green. "Look at this," she whispered breathlessly, her face glowing. Steven grinned as he glanced at the hand mirror. "Looks like a refugee from an algae farm." "No, no, look at the date." Squinting at the numbers, he read aloud, "Seventeen eighty-nine. What are those markings under the date?" She whispered, but more loudly than she intended. "The craftsman's symbol. Steven, this mirror is priceless."
"That thar mirror is magical." Startled, Mandy and Steven gazed at the old woman's toothy grin.
"Magical?" Mandy clutched the mirror to her chest.
Bending close to her ear, Steven whispered, "Mandy, don't fall for that."
"Yup, belonged to the Countess DeMarco. She had it made from nuggets from her daddy's mine. Legend has it she
mixed drops of her own blood with the molten silver."
"Oh, come on," Steven chuckled.
"It be true, all right, least'n that's how the story goes." The old woman shrugged, lighting a pipe she took from the
pocket of her ragged sweater.
Mandy ran her fingers over the frame. "How is it magical?"
The old woman puffed on her pipe, blowing smoke up at the ceiling. She seemed lost in thought. Steven was ready to repeat the question when the woman spoke.
"It be said if'n you gaze into this ‘ere lookin' glass on Christmas Eve, you'll see your true love."
Steven almost laughed out loud. "A good tale to raise the price of a moldy piece of junk".
"The Christmas mirror!" Mandy gasped. "How much?"
Through clenched teeth, Steven whispered, "Come on, Mandy, don't fall for this garbage."
"Tain't no garbage, it be the truth." With a raised eyebrow, the old woman pointed the stem of her pipe at
Steven. "You just gotta believe."
Mandy turned to Steven with pleading eyes. Then of the old woman, she asked, "How much?"
"Fer you, deary?" the woman croaked, scratching her head, "Twenty."
Did she hear right? "How much?"
"You are a believer in things you can't see. There be things more valuable than money."
"I got it." Pulling out his billfold, Steven took out two $10 bills.
"I want to pay for it, please dear," Mandy said, her eyes entreating. Steven pushed his billfold back in his pocket.
Something was at work here. He would not interfere.

The mirror became one of Mandy's most prized possessions. She spent hours polishing the frame until it glowed with a burnished gleam. Each morning she held it in front of her while she brushed her hair. Steven pointed out
there were other mirrors throughout the house. She just smiled and said, "This one is special." Holding the mirror now, Steven's fingers traced the angel design carved into the back. Somehow it felt as if he was touching Mandy's silky smooth cheek. A sudden peace came into his heart and an inexplicable joy overwhelmed him. Cautiously holding the mirror and dress, he walked down the stairs to the living room and laid them on the coffee table. Igniting the gas logs in the fireplace, he threw hickory chips into the fire. After seating a CD of Christmas carols in
the stereo, he hit the play button. The first notes of Silent Night floated through the room. The melody was gentle and soothing.

On sudden impulse, he held the mirror up to his face. Then he turned it to the side. The reflection of the room was
different. It seemed to shimmer in the light of the fire. Smoke rose from the center of the room, taking on a familiar shape. A hint of lavender scent hung in the air. As the haze cleared, Steven blinked. Whirling around, his heart leaped in his chest. Mandy stood in front of the fireplace, wearing the black dress. The mirror quivered in his hand, but he felt no fear. "Merry Christmas, darling," she said, smiling. "But... but... you're...," Steven stuttered. "Remember what we promised each other on our first anniversary?" Mandy asked, moving forward to touch Steven gently on the cheek. Her fingers were warm and inviting. "I said I would spend each Christmas Eve with you." Taking the mirror from his trembling hand, Mandy laid it on the coffee table. Drawing Steven to her, she kissed him. Her lips were tender and loving. She stepped back, picked up the mirror and smiled at him. "The moment I saw this mirror, I
knew it was the one I read about years ago." Steven stared at her, too stunned to speak. "The countess was about to be married to a man she didn't love. Her father had arranged the marriage for political reasons. On the night before her wedding, she looked into this mirror and saw her true love. She refused to marry the man her father had chosen. He became furious, disowning and throwing her out. She went to live with an aunt. One of the few
possessions she took with her was the Christmas mirror. Six months later she met her true love. They were secretly married on Christmas Eve and ran away to America, bringing the mirror with them. It was passed down for centuries until it was lost. Knowing its powers, every morning I looked into the mirror, imprinting my image within it for this night." "Oh Mandy," Steven said, taking his wife in his trembling arms. "I've missed you so much."

Steven could not believe his good fortune. The thrill he felt exceeded the joy of his wedding day. That night they danced, hugged, talked and laughed as the hours flew by. They shared their hopes and dreams as they had each Christmas Eve. At midnight, the grandfather clock in the hallway struck 12. Sighing gently, Mandy turned to him.
She held out her hand. In her open palm rested a small velvet box. "But Mandy, sweetheart," Steven sighed, "I don't have anything for you." "Steven, you've given me the greatest gift of all, your love," Mandy said, her face glowing. "Open it, please." Steven gently lifted the box from her hand. Opening it, he gasped. Encased in folds of velvet was a ring. Embossed in gold inside the lid was the Leverman's Jewelers signature. With her delicate fingers, Mandy took the ring from the box and placed it on Steven's finger. "Remember, dear, whenever you look at this ring, that I will always love you." She leaned in, gently touching her lips to his.

A brilliant gleam flashed from the ring, blinding him. Steven blinked his eyes. "Mandy, I...”
The room was empty. The mirror and black dress lay on the coffee table where he had placed them. He ran through the house, calling to her. A horrible ache filled his heart. Mandy was gone. He balled his hands into fists. "A dream," he cried, clenching his fists in the air. "It was all a dream."
The hard ridge of the ring bit into his fingers. Taking it off, Steven held it up to the light. His eyes caught the markings inside. Engraved within the band were the words, I'll always love you.

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