Swan Song by Tracey Ward Page A

than us in this holiday season and keep in our hearts and minds the true meaning of Christmas and charity. We ask these things in your name, Oh Lord. Amen.”
    “Amen,” Rosaline and I whisper.
    I look over at Lucy and squeeze her hand before releasing it.
    “That was lovely, Luce” I tell her.
    “It was long,” Alice says curtly. “Pass the potatoes.”
    “So what’s the plan for Christmas?” Rosaline asks, taking a knife to the turkey. “Anyone going home?”
    “I might,” Alice says. “My parents offered to buy me a train ticket back to Boise. I’m thinking about it.”
    I frown at her. “You better decide fast. If you’re not here to be in the chorus line Tommy and I will need to find a replacement.”
    “You have Clara. Can’t she fill in?”
    “What if she’s going home too?”
    Alice shrugs, unconcerned. “It’ll work out.”
    “Let me know.”
    “Sure, mom.”
    I continue to frown at her.
    “What about you, Luce?” Rosaline asks her. “Are you going home?”
    Lucy blushes slightly. “No, I think… I think I might be going somewhere else?”
    I glance at Rosaline who casts me a curious smile.
    “Where might you be going?” I ask.
    “I don’t know,” she says quietly, staring intently at her cranberries.
    “New York,” Alice says, her mouth half full of biscuit. “She’s going to New York to see some fella.”
    Lucy looks up at her sharply. “How did you know that?”
    Alice shrugs. “I read your letter.”
    “You what?!”
    “I read your letter. You left it sitting out on the coffee table. What’s the big deal?”
    “The big deal is that it’s private!” Lucy cries indignantly.
    Alice rolls her eyes at her, returning to her turkey. “If it’s private don’t leave it lying around.”
    Lucy continues to stare daggers at Alice who remains carefully oblivious.
    “Well, the cat’s out of the bag now, you may as well fill us in,” Rosaline prods Lucy. “Who is he?”
    A smile creeps onto her thin, pink lips. “He’s just some guy.”
    “Just some guy inviting you to visit him in New York City?” I ask doubtfully. “Is he helping you pay for your train ticket?”
    The smile explodes on her face. “He’s flying me there.”
    “He’s what?!”
    “He’s a pilot for the Postal Service,” she explains, finally looking at me. When she sees my face her smile fades a bit. “He flies on a route between New York and a couple other places. He’ll be making deliveries this way a few days before Christmas and he offered to fly me back to New York with him to meet his family there.”
    Rosaline is staring at Lucy in amazement. “Meet his family? How long have you known this guy?”
    “A few months now.”
    “And we don’t know about him because…”
    Lucy looks embarrassed. “I wasn’t sure what it was. He lives in New York, I’m here and we hardly ever see each other. Most of what we say to each other is through letters.”
    “How did you meet him?” I ask.
    Lucy glows at me. “It was back in the early fall when we had those horrible lightning storms. His plane was able to land here but it was too dangerous to take off again. He and his copilot were stuck here for the night so they came into town to get a room in a hotel. They chose some cheap one just a couple blocks from where I work and they ended up coming in to window shop and kill time waiting for the storms to pass. We met, got to talking, and they invited me and another shop girl to dinner.” She grins mischievously. “We stayed out most of the night just talking and laughing. Afterward he asked if he could write me and I said yes so that’s what we’ve been doing ever since.”
    “You mean you haven’t seen him since the fall?” Rosaline asks.
    “Once. I saw him once. He let me know a week in advance when he’d be landing and I got the afternoon off to be there. It was only for an hour while the mail was loaded on the plane and they refueled, but it was nice.”
    “Did he kiss you?” Alice