A Christmas Story

Chapter 1 -- Part 2

She wasn’t prepared for this. There was no way she could have prepared for this.

The car slowed as a massive security gate opened gallantly before them. The long drive stretched ahead under a canopy of barren branches sparkling with tiny white lights.

"Oh my . . . " That was as far as she got. Not another word would come. Finally she let out a long sigh. Who are these people?

"Oh now, don’t get too impressed," Jackie laughed. "After all, it’s just wood and bricks and mortar like any other house. And we’re just ordinary people like everyone else. This house was a gift to us, if you can believe it. And, well—how in the world would you turn down a gift like that?"

"A gift? No way!"

"Yes way!" Harold mimicked, sounding amazingly like a kid himself. Who are these people!? They’re obviously wealthy, but they seem so . . . normal.

Hannah couldn’t help but laugh. "I feel like Little Orphan Annie going to Daddy Warbucks house for the first time. This is like some kind of dream! I’m beginning to think I punched one too many keys on that register tonight."

Her mouth dropped once more as the house came into full view. It was absolutely the most magnificent home she’d ever seen. Decked with thousands more of the tiny white lights, it seemed to go on forever. Yet, at the same time, Hannah immediately felt the warmth and hospitality even before she stepped out of the car. "It’s so beautiful!"

"Oh, and it’s been so much fun to decorate! I’ll take you on a tour once we get inside. Since the minute I saw the architect’s plans, I’ve felt like a child in a candy store. Do you ever feel that way? Like you just want to pop, you’re having such a good time?"

"Well, yeah—like now, for instance!" Hannah laughed.

Jackie continued chattering instructions. "But first things first. Why don’t you go have a seat in the family room and I’ll get us something to drink."

Hannah plopped down on an overstuffed sofa and gave in to the fatigue that was pulling at her. "Jackie, I don’t know what to say. Meeting you, then the church service, then meeting Harold . . . and now all this," she said, waving her arm across the room. "Have I died or something? This feels a little like heaven right now. I’ve been studying so hard for finals and working so hard, and now all of a sudden that’s all behind me and I’m here
and. . ."

"And we’re thrilled to have you. Kick off your shoes and put your feet up. What would you like to drink? Coke? Tea? Coffee? Or would you—"

"MOM!"

Jackie stopped cold. Her face lit up like the twenty-foot tree towering in the corner of the room. "He’s home!" she whispered, clapping her hands together.

"Mom! Dad? I’ve got someone you’ve got to meet!"

Hannah sucked in her breath and held it. She dropped her head into her hands and moaned. Oh no, God, please don’t let this happen. Just let the floor open up and swallow me before . . .

Suddenly, she was accosted by something hairy and frantic and overbearing. Hot breath, panting anxiously against her ear made her shiver just before she was licked with a wet, slobbering tongue.

"What in the—"

"Baby! Come here! Down, girl!"

"Brian! What on earth is going on?" Jackie shouted over the ruckus.

Hannah’s hands hid her face from the ongoing bath. Every time she tried to look out at the face behind the voice, she was met with a ridiculous tan snout and pink tongue that seemed intent on slathering her from one ear to the other.

"Baby! Now stop it! Bad girl!" But the reprimand was lost in the infectious laughter of Harold and Jackie’s son who found the whole thing hilarious. "Mom, this is Baby. She was a gift from some girl I met in Montana, and I fell in love with her the minute I laid eyes on her and I just had to keep her! Well, I mean Baby—not the girl!" And off he went laughing again.

"But Brian, make her stop! For heaven’s sake! Can’t you make her mind?"

"Baby!" he shouted. The puppy froze. Suddenly, the tiny chihuahua was lifted away from Hannah’s lap. She shoved her hair back as she came up for air. Goose bumps lifted on her skin as she rubbed her face, attempting to somehow wipe away the doggy slobber.

"Whoa . . . Mom! Aren’t you going to introduce me? Who is this?"

"Yes, but first give me a hug, you big lug. It’s about time you got home!"

"Nice entrance, Mr. Hotshot," Harold bellowed. "Give your old man a hug while you’re at it."

Hannah could hear the three of them as they shared in a hearty welcome-home embrace. Oh great, and now I’m intruding on a Norman Rockwell painting . . . She shook away the last remnant of a shiver and tried to make herself presentable for the inevitable introduction. She started to look up. Jackie called her name.

"Hannah, I want you to meet our son, Brian. Brian, honey, this is Hannah . . . well, good grief. I never asked you what your last name was!"

She started to say her name when her eyes finally locked onto his face. A face so familiar she was immediately rendered incapable of functioning in any manner. "Bu . . . Bu . . ."

His eyebrows arched. Just like his mother’s had arched only moments ago. His eyes were dancing, just as hers had danced. His eyes are . . . giggling? Those eyes I loved for so long . . . such a long time ago . . .

In a millisecond she was swept back in time. She was fourteen again in an arena filled with thousands of screaming girls. A stage was exploding in pyrotechnic wonders, backlighting the five singers as they finished their final encore. She had made her way closer to the stage desperately hoping to get a closer look at the Backstreet Boys before they disappeared from sight. Earlier she had felt like the Stay Puff Marshmellow Man, worried if her puffy, ice-blue down jacket made her look big. Now, lost in a sea of hysterical teenyboppers, she was ecstatic she’d worn it. Because even as she waved eagerly at Brian Littrell praying she’d get his attention, that jacket must have caught his eye. He pointed straight at her, his face breaking into that huge, sweet smile, and waved at her, his hand over his heart in a gesture of tenderness. She waved back, forever changed. Brian Littrell knows I’m alive!

Then, just as quickly, the memory vanished. She was here, now—in the home of Brian Littrell and his parents as their personal guest.

She tried again. "Bu . . ."

"Your name is Bu . . . bu? Bubba? Odd name for someone as . . . well, that can’t be right," Brian commented, still grinning at her.

She sank back down into the sofa. "Br . . ."

He handed the squirming puppy to his mother. "Mom, this is Baby. Pretend she’s a grandchild and get acquainted." He sat down beside Hannah, wrapping a brotherly arm around her shoulder. "Look, this happens all the time. No big deal. It still embarrasses me but—"

"Embarrasses you?" she shot back.

"Hey! Progress! She speaks!" he announced across the room to his parents.

"I’m linguine here! Oh my gosh, this is too embarrassing. I . . . I’m so sorry, Brian. Of course I know who you are. You must think I’m like one of your teenyboppers—" she caught herself, afraid she’d humiliated him. "Oh my gosh! I’m sorry! I mean, your fans. Of course. Fans." Her nervous laughter only made it worse. "Um, I didn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with teenyboppers, of course. I used to be one! Ha!"

There it was again. That stupid laugh. She wanted to die. Right there.

He got up, moving to sit on the coffee table directly in front of her. He took both her hands in his. He was looking at her face to face and she felt the heat crawling up her neck. Again.

"Hannah, it’s nice to meet you. You must be pretty special to have an invitation from my folks on Christmas Eve. And if you’re special to them, then I better play catch up and get to know you. How did you meet Mom and Dad? Are you from around here? Do you work at Dad’s company? WAIT! I bet you’re in college! Are you a student at UK?"

She felt a silly grin spread across her face. She nodded slowly affirmatively.

"For real? No way! That’s great! I love UK! One of these days . . . one of these days! I’m gonna go back and get my degree and start living a real life. Isn’t that right, Dad?"

"Brian, will you quit peppering our guest with all your questions?" Jackie admonished. "We’ll have plenty of time for you two to get acquainted. Now go do something with this dog and clean up. It’s time for supper. Go on, now!"

Jackie took Hannah by the hand, leading her into the kitchen. "Now, just remember. He’s a normal person like anybody else. He’s really just a kid. My kid! And while he’s home, we don’t do the celebrity thing, okay? I guess I should have warned you, but then I hate to be presumptuous and assume everybody knows who he is. I take it you’re familiar with the Boys and their music?"

This time Hannah laughed out loud. "You could say that . . . "

"Well, trust me. All that crazy lifestyle may look glamorous but it’s a hard way to live. And we don’t cater to any of it when he’s home. So just chill, as they say. You’re a lovely young lady who is our special guest tonight, and we want you to feel right at home here like part of the family."

Brian joined them, throwing his leg over the back of the chair as he flew into his seat. He looked up smiling at Hannah, then turned to look at his mother and father. Their disapproving looks said it all.

"Oh, sorry, Mom—Dad. I forgot." He got up, stepped away from the table and turned back around. "Mother? Father? Hannah?" he asked formally. "Good evening." Then, with the most elegant of manners, he lowered himself into the chair, snapping his cloth napkin into the air before gently placing it across his lap. "Shall we dine?"

Mr. and Mrs. Littrell and their son reached out to hold hands to pray before their meal. Brian held out his hand to Hannah, that mischievous smile taunting her. She slowly reached out to place her hand in his, hoping and praying she wouldn’t pass out at his touch. His fingers wrapped around her hand, gently squeezing them as he winked before bowing his head.

And as her heart pounded against her chest, Hannah listened to the celebrity, now friend, as he began to pray.

"God, you’re so amazing . . . "

Chapter 2