Some links may be affiliate links. We get money if you buy something or take an action after clicking one of these links on our site.

Christmas All The Time is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon.com. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

No, He Just Looks Like Frank

“Happy!” Holly screeched. “Happy? How do you expect me to be happy? My whole life is a lie, Grammy!”

‘But, I just showed you-’ She waved toward the Christmas party.

“That I’m an idiot. You want me to be happy about that?”

‘Okay, maybe not happy but-’

“But what? What’s your point, Grammy?”

‘Are you done?’ She planted her fists on her hips.

“You tell me. Am I done? This little stroll down memory lane isn’t doing it for me. You don’t even look like you.” Holly turned away.

‘So, you’ll only listen to me if I look like a doddering old woman?’ She aged rapidly, her clothes becoming dated and dowdy. ‘That’s what is really going to get through to you?’

“It’s a start.” Holly said over her shoulder.

‘Okay, so the past doesn’t do it for you.’ She pointed a knotty finger at her. ’I thought showing you the truth would help you reconcile things in that addled red head of yours, Holly.’ As her grandmother paced up and down the block waving her arms furiously, she began to glow. ‘What else can I possibly do that will get through that thick skull of yours?’ The more she ranted, the more brilliantly she glowed. ’I tried to show you how to be kind when I was alive. You wrote me off as senile. I tried to protect your sister from you, but you tortured and tormented her behind my back!’

“Grammy, I can’t see.” Holly squinted through the glare.

‘That much is obvious, Holly! You’re right. Looking backward seems to be doing you no good whatsoever.’

“I’m sorry, Grammy. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Holly held her hands up to block the glare from her grandmother’s halo.

‘Holly, I love you. I always have. By God’s grace, I’m still watching over you.’ The blazing orb of light radiated on each side like wings. ’I don’t always like what I see, girl. Get your head in the game. I’m not the only one watching, you know.’

Holly fell to her knees, covering her eyes with both arms. “I’m sorry, Grammy. I’ll do better.”

“Well, that’s good news.” Holly heard a familiar voice.

“Lynn?” Holly peeked at her from between her arms.

“As far as you know.”

Holly looked up and down the street. The party was long over. The hotel parking lot was mostly empty.

There was a child standing in front of her wearing a shiny green, fur-trimmed robe and a wreath bedecked with lit candles on her little head. “Lynn, why are you dressed like this?”

She shrugged. “Look, Mrs. Hannon. This is your psychotic episode. I’m just here to talk sense to you. Okay?”

“If I wasn’t going to listen to my own Grammy, why on Earth would I listen to you?”

“Let’s take a moment and reflect on that.” She held her little hand out to Holly.

“You sound like a shrink.” Holly recoiled from the gesture.

“I believe we’ve established that you need one.”

“Am I in the psych ward, Lynn?”

“No, you’re home in your bed. Mr. Hannon is on the couch and the girls are in their rooms.” She wiggled her hand. “We need to get going. Okay?”

Holly took her hand. The world became a blur. “Are you going to walk us all over Wyoming Pass, showing me random scenes of Christmas cheer?”

They appeared in Holly’s living room. She pointed at Frank, sleeping on the couch. “Does that look cheerful to you?”

“Not what I expected.”

Lynn waved her hand dismissively and scampered into the kitchen.

“Now what are you doing?”

“I need some eggnog.”

“Really?” Holly followed her into the kitchen. “You brought me here to raid the fridge? You want some fruitcake, too?”

“No, that’s Chelsea’s thing.” Lynn poked around in the fridge. “I didn’t bring you to suit my needs. We’re here for you.”

“Okay, but you’re digging around in my fridge, anyway.”

She grabbed the eggnog and shook the carton as she pulled the milk out. “Dealing with you is thirsty work, Mrs. Hannon. I’m going to pour myself a drink. You go look at your husband a minute.”

Holly shook her head and followed the instructions. She could hear the gurgling of the eggnog and milk as she stood looking down at her sleeping husband.

“Do you see it?”

“Lynn? See what? What am I looking at?”

“Are you telling me you can’t see the tracks of the tears on his cheek, Mrs. Hannon?”

“No, he just looks like Frank.”

“Probably because you take him for granted.” Lynn came out to the living room with her ridiculous costume and a thick eggnog mustache.

“I can’t take you seriously looking like that.”

Lynn took the wreath from her head and swung her arm in a broad circle. The motion swept away the festive costume, leaving her dressed as a miniature Victorian caroler. “Is this better?”

“Kind of, but not really. You’ve still got the…” Holly pointed at her lip.

Lynn rolled her eyes and swept a sleeve across her face.

“Oh, God. I can’t look.”

“What?”

“You just smeared eggnog all over the sleeve of that nice-” Holly peeked. “What?”

Lynn was standing there in her Christmas jammies. “Don’t worry about me. Look at him. Look closely. You put those tears there, Mrs. Hannon. Isn’t it bad enough that you were wrong about the Christmas party? Why are you still punishing him for being the honorable, delightful man you wanted him to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Lynn.”

“Of course, you don’t. This is all about you. You need to explain it to yourself.” She smiled and dashed away to the stairs. “Follow me.”

“Lynn, it’s late! Don’t wake up the girls.”

“They can’t hear us, Mrs. Hannon.” Lynn yelled gleefully as she stomped up the stairs. “Come on!”

“Lynn, stop. What are you doing?”

“Well, you wouldn’t listen to Grammy about the past, so I thought you might like to take stock of the present and future.” She darted back and forth, opening doors. “Hi, Kendra!” She slammed the door. “Hi, hall closet!” She slammed the door. “Yay! There’s Chelsea’s room! I wanna see the picture frame!”