{"id":7714,"date":"2019-12-24T02:54:36","date_gmt":"2019-12-24T08:54:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/?p=7714"},"modified":"2020-09-04T05:12:19","modified_gmt":"2020-09-04T10:12:19","slug":"when-heaven-earth-shall-sing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/when-heaven-earth-shall-sing\/","title":{"rendered":"When Heaven & Earth Shall Sing"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div><\/div>\n

Patricia Crisafulli
\n<\/a><\/h2>\n

Holiday Fiction<\/h4>\n


\n

<\/div><\/p>\n
\n

As her family comes together for Christmas dinner, Noreen finds herself in the eye of a storm of old hurts and rivalries, until a nearly forgotten tune reminds her of when heaven and earth shall sing.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

T<\/span> he silence of the house was so thick it almost had a sound, like velvet brushing against itself. Noreen stood in the cross section\u2014the family room behind, the kitchen ahead, and the stairs just off to the left\u2014and took in the quiet. Aware of her own breath, she held it, and shut her eyes. The void opened for an instant, like giant palms spreading wide to receive and accept. Noreen smiled. It was Christmas, and despite all the flurry and worry, she couldn\u2019t help but be happy.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Then the furnace kicked on, the blower whooshed, and the ductwork started its rhythmic pinging. Outside the house, a dog barked, and a car rumbled down the street. Ordinary life trundled on, oblivious to the magic of silence.<\/p>\n

Noreen mentally calculated the progress of her to-do list. Frank should be home soon from the market with the turkey and the ham she\u2019d ordered\u2014too much, but Frank loved a full table and plenty of leftovers. In the dining room, Noreen was confronted by the still-blank expanse of the table elongated by the two extra leaves and covered with the longest cloth she owned. Pickles, the old Calico, slept on a chair in the corner. Noreen stroked the cat\u2019s fur, feeling the vibration of a contented purr. \u201cJust stay off the table,\u201d she chuckled.<\/p>\n

The china cabinet stood on four sturdy legs\u2014like a bow-legged barrister, as Frank, who had been born and raised in northern England, liked to say. Keeping with that image, the dark wood was courtroom somber. Inside, it held two sets of china; the Haviland with its fussy pink roses, not exactly Noreen\u2019s taste, had belonged to Frank\u2019s mother.<\/p>\n

Noreen picked up a plate, ran her palm over the cool surface, and smiled at the memory of Estelle Weatherby. A tiny lady with soft curls framing her round face, Estelle had been almost childlike, except for the wrinkles that crosshatched her cheeks and forehead. When Estelle passed away nearly two years ago, the china had gone to her and Frank. Packing up the entire set and bringing it back on an international flight after Estelle\u2019s funeral had been expensive and perilous; yet not a cup had cracked.<\/p>\n

The holiday china Noreen collected, piece by piece, over the past ten years could be used for Christmas Day brunch, she decided. For her formal Christmas Eve dinner, she would set the table with Estelle\u2019s china\u2014that would make Frank happy.<\/p>\n

\"When<\/p>\n

There would be seven of them around the table, although Noreen held a shred of hope for eight, if Jack showed up\u2014though not likely. The biggest group was Colin, her oldest at thirty-three; his wife, Jessica; and their two children. Renee, who was twenty-nine, was coming alone, having called it off with her fianc\u00e9, Max, three months ago\u2014a breakup she still refused to discuss. Jack, the youngest at twenty-seven, had sent a text message two days ago, saying he was in London. \u201cLast year, Jack hadn\u2019t showed and called on the twenty-seventh with explanations about a yearend deal and round-the-clock negotiations. An investment banker, Jack lived in New York, but never seemed to be anywhere for long.<\/p>\n

Even though it was only the morning of the twenty-third, Noreen decided to set the table, knowing very well it was just a distraction to keep from brooding about Jack. She took out dinner plates, salad plates, and serving dishes. The silverware, bought at an estate sale, bore someone else\u2019s monogram\u2014an elaborate W that they jokingly claimed stood for \u201cWhoever.\u201d She lined up forks, both salad and dinner; knives with heavy handles and serrated edges; and delicate spoons.<\/p>\n

Searching the top shelf of the cabinet for the crystal salt-and-pepper shakers, Noreen found a china egg topped with a bright yellow Easter chick\u2014she\u2019d forgotten all about it\u2014and an amethyst-colored bud vase given to her by a niece, years ago. Rising up on her toes and arcing her arm over her head, Noreen poked the spaces with her fingers. She lit on something round and cool as a beach stone. When her index finger touched a tiny figure and the rough edges of outstretched wings, Noreen extracted her hand and ran for the kitchen stool.<\/p>\n

She couldn\u2019t remember the last time she\u2019d seen it, which said a lot about how infrequently she dusted the china cabinet. Now she cradled the little treasure in her hand: a china music box of gleaming white porcelain and a dark blue border. Atop the lid stood a tiny, dark-eyed angel, features blunted by time and curious fingertips, with a miniscule violin tucked under her cherubic cheek. Noreen raised the lid, revealing the drums with their pinprick spindles that long ago had plucked a simple tune.<\/p>\n

The angel box. When she was a child, she had loved to sit on the carpet in her grandmother\u2019s parlor, carefully turning the key, never over-winding so as not to ruin the mechanism. When her grandmother died, the music box had been given to her as a memento. By that time, it was silent; some part had worn out or snapped off.<\/p>\n

Just then, Frank called from the back door, his accent as thick as a brogue. \u201cI don\u2019t suppose I could get a hand here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen set the music box on the sideboard\u2014between a reindeer-shaped candlestick holder and an arrangement of fresh pine and roses sent by her sister in Washington State\u2014and ran to the kitchen to help.<\/p>\n

\"Christmas<\/p>\n

By mid-day on the twenty-fourth, Colin, Jessica, and the children arrived at the house. Frank, dressed in the horrid red and green plaid slacks he wore every Christmas, opened the door. Noreen stepped around him to hug the grandchildren: Billy, six, and Sharice, four. Jessica looked behind them through the open front door. \u201cI\u2019d love a quick run before dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen thought that was strange but kept it to herself. \u201cWhatever you like, dear. Plenty of time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jessica slipped off her coat, pulled a sweatshirt on over the running clothes she already wore, and headed back out the door.<\/p>\n

Frank took the grandkids by the hand and led them into the living room. Colin followed Noreen into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, scanning the interior. \u201cJack call?\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen peered at the turkey through the oven door window. \u201cHe\u2019s in London. Sends his best to everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what\u2019s it been\u2014three years since he\u2019s been here for Christmas? Two years since he\u2019s come to visit?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t.\u201d Noreen pressed her fingertips to the corners of her eyes. \u201cI can\u2019t take that today, Colin.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry, Ma.\u201d Colin looked contrite. \u201cIs Renee here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, but I\u2019m sure she\u2019s on her way.\u201d Noreen glanced at the clock.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou ever find out what happened with Max? It just seemed awfully sudden\u2014\u201d Colin stopped mid-sentence.<\/p>\n

Noreen followed his gaze to the window on the back door, which now framed Renee\u2019s face. She bustled in with shopping bags of wrapped gifts, her cheeks cold but her eyes bright. \u201cTraffic was awful! Took three hours to get here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen caught her in a hug. \u201cCome in, take off your coat.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot yet.\u201d Renee\u2019s eyes darted from Colin to Noreen. \u201cI have a surprise.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJeez, don\u2019t say a dog.\u201d Colin shook his head. \u201cMy kids see a dog, and I\u2019m done for\u2014that\u2019s all they\u2019ve been asking for.\u201d<\/p>\n

A sandy-haired man appeared in the doorway. Not Max, the ex-fianc\u00e9, who had been dark-haired and ruddy. A friend, perhaps? Noreen saw the broadening of her daughter\u2019s smile. Oh my, no, she added to herself; this man was far more than that.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d like you to meet Henrik.\u201d Renee pronounced his name with a slight accent.<\/p>\n

Colin glowered, but Noreen stepped forward to welcome him. \u201cSo glad you could join us for Christmas.\u201d She twice called for Frank, who kept yelling back, \u201cIn a second, we\u2019re getting the train set up\u201d\u2014meaning he and the grandchildren.<\/p>\n

Two reddened blotches burned on Henrik\u2019s pale neck and cheeks, but Renee only beamed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s all this?\u201d Frank entered the kitchen, his eyes on Renee.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaddy, I want you to meet Henrik.\u201d Renee put her arm around her father\u2019s waist. \u201cWe\u2019re engaged.\u201d<\/p>\n

Colin swore, and Frank pulled back from Renee as if the shock he\u2019d received carried voltage. \u201cBloody hell! Another fianc\u00e9?\u201d<\/p>\n

Just then, Jessica came in the door from her run, her phone pressed to her ear. She passed through the kitchen, then shot a glance back at the unfamiliar man in their midst.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you gonna tell us all about this?\u201d Colin asked his sister, stirring the air with his finger.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot now.\u201d Noreen grabbed her son by the arm and pointed him toward the living room. \u201cHow about opening the wine?\u201d<\/p>\n

When Renee and Henrik went back to the car for the rest of their things, Frank leaned closer. \u201cWhat the hell? She dumps one fianc\u00e9 and gets another in 90 days\u2014it\u2019s like that crazy TV show.\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen put up her hands in surrender. \u201cNot now\u2014not on Christmas Eve. She\u2019ll tell us when she\u2019s ready.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I\u2019m ready to hear.\u201d Frank rolled his r\u2019s as if he were a boy back in Liverpool, and not a chemist who had spent the past thirty-five years in the States.<\/p>\n

\"Christmas<\/p>\n

Noreen fussed in the kitchen, shooing everyone off to the living room with a platter of hors d\u2019oeuvres. She needed time to think\u2014to process the last twenty minutes in her own home. Her daughter broken up with Max after five years together and then suddenly engaged to a complete stranger?<\/p>\n

Her thoughts continued to spin. When did Colin get to be so smug? Then Jessica deciding to go for a run just as they arrived, as if she couldn\u2019t wait to be out of there. And Jack. Why couldn\u2019t he come to see them? Did he resent them? Had she been a bad mother?<\/p>\n

Her ruminating stopped when Jessica slid into the kitchen. \u201cSo do we assume Henrik is the reason for the break-up?\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen eyed her daughter-in-law, now in a black knit dress as slim and sleek as her hair and her runner\u2019s body. \u201cMaybe. But if so, isn\u2019t it better for Renee that she didn\u2019t go through with something that wasn\u2019t right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Jessica\u2019s heavily lashed eyes widened. \u201cSurprised to hear you say that, Noreen. I thought you were more of a traditionalist.\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen wiped her hands on the apron tied over her black pleated skirt and white lace-trimmed blouse. She retreated to the dining room, not even bothering to make an excuse, and surveyed her perfectly set table: everything arranged, tidy and assigned its place. She stepped to the window and looked outside at the hard, bare earth: cold, but no snow.<\/p>\n

A sound in the corner\u2014a cross between a cough and a throat-clearing\u2014turned Noreen away from the window. Henrik\u2019s face still burned red, but his voice came out calmly. \u201cI am sorry that I have spoiled your Christmas. Renee insisted I come. She didn\u2019t want to spend the holiday pretending I didn\u2019t exist.\u201d He dropped his head. \u201cMaybe she should have.\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen saw him reach for something on the sideboard. The music box. She had forgotten it was still there. Before she could stop him, warning of how delicate it was, Henrik raised the lid and looked inside. \u201cDoes it work?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, not anymore. It belonged to my grandmother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was its tune?\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen had to admit she liked his accent and the slightly awkward way in which he phrased things. \u201cI can\u2019t even remember anymore.\u201d She waited a beat. \u201cListen, as long as Renee is happy, we\u2019re happy. It\u2019s just that we knew Max for such a long time. They were engaged and planning to marry next fall.\u201d<\/p>\n

Henrik nodded. \u201cJa\u2014that\u2019s right. Then we met. Completely by chance. In a Starbucks. She backed up into me and I spilled my latte on her shoes.\u201d<\/p>\n

When he smiled, Noreen read the truth on his face: this man loved her daughter. \u201cSo how did you get from spilled coffee to engaged?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTalking, just talking, at first. Then Renee admitted she had feelings, and I did, too. But she was engaged, so we decided not to speak to each other anymore. Three weeks went by. Then Renee called me and said she has told Max. We knew that we want to be together.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut engaged, so soon?\u201d Noreen had to wonder if this man had green card issues.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to be with her forever, and she wants the same. So why do we wait? We don\u2019t have to rush the marriage. But the commitment is important.\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen threaded her arm through his. \u201cWell, if you\u2019re going to be part of this family, you might as well jump into the fray.\u201d<\/p>\n

Renee was talking fast and animatedly with Colin, her tone sharp and a frown creasing his face. Jessica held her ground, arms folded tightly across her body. Noreen led Henrik right up to the little cluster and broke in. \u201cI hope you all have your appetites. Forty-five minutes to turkey!\u201d<\/p>\n

They dispersed: Jessica to the kitchen to help, Colin to the family room with his children and Frank, and Renee and Henrik to each other.<\/p>\n

\"When<\/p>\n

The turkey reached golden perfection. The side dishes\u2014potatoes, squash, green beans, and roasted brussels sprouts\u2014made the transfer from oven and stovetop to the table. Wine filled glasses. Noreen remembered the butter, sitting in its covered dish on the counter, and went back to the kitchen to get it.<\/p>\n

Footsteps thudded on the back deck and the door opened. \u201cHey, Ma.\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen stood there, not sure why she was in the middle of her own kitchen.<\/p>\n

\u201cI flew out yesterday\u2014got into Dulles at some ungodly hour this morning, then flew up here. Got the last rental car in the lot, which is why it\u2019s tiny and purple.\u201d Jack\u2019s smile became a laugh. \u201cMerry Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n

Noreen grabbed him into a hug and kissed his cheek, feeling the stubble. \u201cI can\u2019t believe you came.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI promised I\u2019d try. This time I had to try harder.\u201d Jack shrugged off his coat and laid over the back of a chair.<\/p>\n

Colin came in the kitchen. \u201cWho are you talking to?\u201d He stopped. \u201cGeez, look at what Santa dragged in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Colin.\u201d Jack nodded but didn\u2019t take a step forward.<\/p>\n

\u201cWasn\u2019t sure we were going to see you.\u201d Colin held the standoff.<\/p>\n

Noreen stepped in, steering them both to the dining room. She gave Jack a little push through the doorway. \u201cSurprise!\u201d<\/p>\n

Renee was out of her chair in a flash, hugging Jack, then Frank reached around and held them both. Everyone talked at once.<\/p>\n

As she tried to set two more places at the table and rearrange chairs, Noreen heard a small chime. Someone\u2019s cell phone must be going off, and she guessed that it had to Jessica\u2019s, what with her big corporate job, or maybe Jack\u2019s, and he\u2019d have to leave the table to do some deal. No one else seemed to hear it, so Noreen wasn\u2019t going to say a thing.<\/p>\n

She heard the sound again and held up her hand, silencing the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is it?\u201d Renee asked.<\/p>\n

Henrik was beside Noreen an instant. \u201cThe box,\u201d he said, pointing. \u201cIt plays.\u201d<\/p>\n

The little angel box, silent for forty years, found its voice again, then stopped.<\/p>\n

Henrik picked up the box and turned the key on the back. Noreen took her breath in sharply, as if she\u2019d been pinched. Surely, it wouldn\u2019t play again.<\/p>\n

But it did. Noreen recognized the tune, but her overwhelmed brain couldn\u2019t name it.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoy to the World.\u201d Frank raised his wineglass. \u201cAppropriate.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen heaven and earth shall sing.\u201d Henrik quoted the lyrics incorrectly, but they struck Noreen as fitting. They were all here, an imperfect and sometimes conflicted family, but together again. And the angel box, assumed broken and almost forgotten, still held its tune. It was a sign, Noreen indulged herself, that her grandmother, Frank\u2019s mother Estelle, and all those who\u2019d passed away were smiling down at then.<\/p>\n

This was joy, she thought\u2014deep and immutable and far better than any momentary happiness. That moment of recognition was when heaven and earth shall sing.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\"When

<\/div><\/p>\n
\n

Patricia Crisafulli<\/a>, M.F.A., is an award-winning writer, published author, and founder of Faith Hope & Fiction.<\/em> Tricia received her Master\u2019s in Fine Arts (MFA) from Northwestern University, which honored her with the Distinguished Thesis Award in Creative Writing. Tricia is the recipient of the Grand Prize for Fiction from TallGrass Writers in its 2019 anthology and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She also received five Write Well Awards for best-of-the-web literary fiction for stories that have appeared on Faith Hope & Fiction.<\/em> She is the author of several nonfiction books and a collection of short stories and essays, Inspired Every Day,<\/em> published by Hallmark<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

You may also like the story: “Claret<\/strong><\/a>” at Faith Hope & Fiction.Image Credit: Patricia Crisafulli<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
READ MORE ABOUT FAITH HOPE & FICTION<\/a><\/div>
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Patricia Crisafulli Holiday Fiction<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":7726,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,18,1],"tags":[6,100,170,38,25],"class_list":["post-7714","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-original-online-fiction","category-patricia-crisafulli","category-uncategorized","tag-christmas","tag-family","tag-fiction","tag-holidays","tag-short-story"],"yoast_head":"\nWhen Heaven & Earth Shall Sing | Faith Hope & Fiction<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"At her family Christmas dinner, Noreen steeps in a storm of old hurts and rivalries\u2013 until a forgotten tune reminds her of when heaven and earth shall sing.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" 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