A Christmas short story for ... well, Christmas

For an hour, the dark van cruised around Hopewell. It slowed while passing through neighborhoods glowing in red, blue and green; from time to time it stopped in front of individual homes, before a white and blue Indiana State Police car coming from the opposite direction pulled up beside it. After glancing to make sure no other vehicles approached on the quiet side street, both drivers rolled down their windows.

The cop jerked his thumb back in the other direction. “If you’re the Wet Bandits, Kevin McCallister lives at 761 Lincoln Avenue.”

In the van, Logan Chandler shook his head. “You kidding me? I’m not going near that place again—it took months for my hair to grow back, and I still have nightmares about that giant spider.”

Laughing, the woman next to him leaned forward to see into the patrol car. “Merry Christmas, Chance!”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Chandler. Did you drag your son out of the house to drive, or did he come along quietly?”

Judy Chandler smiled. “You know how Logan is about family traditions.”

Logan forced his own smile. Everybody did know how he was about family traditions, but in recent years he’d bulled his way through them for the sake of his kids. Well, there were worse things in life than being predictable. “These are my second story people,” he said, indicating the two small bodies belted in behind him. “Their job is to take all the jewelry and loose change, while I steal the cookies.”

“It is not!” Conner protested, with all the seriousness a five-year-old could manage. “I didn’t steal anything—I’ve been good this year.”

Beside him, his sister laughed. “It was just a joke, doofus.” At ten, Faith no longer had to have their father’s humor explained to her—much. “If Conner was a burglar, he’d take the toys.”

“But I’m not.”

The cop gravely examined them. “Nope—you’re not on any of the wanted photos. I’ll file a report that you were just driving around looking at Christmas lights, but remember: Stay away from the McCallister house. They get a little weird this time of year. Oh, have you been down by the drive-in?”

Puzzled, Logan shook his head. “It’s a little far out of town. I figured there were plenty of Christmas displays to see in Hopewell.”

“True, it’s a good year for decorations. Just the same, you might go by that way. I’ll say hello to the family for you.” With a wave, the cop drove on.

The drive-in? It had been on Logan’s mind a lot lately, since rumors started making the rounds that a development company was buying up land around the business. Logan, in one of those knee-jerk moments he often regretted, had started organizing the locals in case they had to fight to keep the place open, but so far they hadn’t had much to do.

He drove on down the street to where the Greene family, in a fine display of theme, had draped their house and all its landscaping with white and green Christmas lights. They blinked in time to a medley of Mannheim Steamroller Christmas songs—but not too loud. The kids oohed and aahed, while Logan turned to his mother. “That seemed a little odd. Marty Dunn never decorates the drive-in, and he hasn’t decorated his own house since his wife passed away.”

“Well, Olive Dunn died years ago … maybe he’s over that wintertime depression of his.”

“Hm.” They’d covered most of Hopewell, after all—it wasn’t that big of a town. Logan drove on, indecisive, until his son spoke up.

“We’re not going to the Mcallister house, are we?”

Faith giggled. “No, that’s the house in Home Alone!”

“Oh!” Finally getting it, Conner laughed. “Well, then, can we go to the drive-in?”

“The drive-in’s closed over the winter, kiddo.” The kids had been a little down over the fact that they hadn’t had snow yet—at least, none that stayed more than a few days before melting away. It hadn’t seemed much like the season, until the neighbors started lighting up their holiday displays. Lisette had loved these mid-December cruises to see the lights. The last time would have been five years ago, when she was pregnant with Conner …

He felt a touch on his arm, and involuntarily jerked. “Sorry, Mom.” Judy Chandler had that look on her face, the one she got when she knew what he was thinking.

“It’s early yet. We still have a thermos of hot chocolate, and there’s no school tomorrow. Why not drive down there?”

“Yeah, let’s check it out,” Faith said. “Mommy liked going by the drive-in.”

Yes, she had. Once, in the deepest part of winter, she’d cut up cardboard boxes into a homemade car and they sat in the living room, watching videos and munching on popcorn. Back when Faith herself was five. Well, it was only a few miles out of town, and the roads were in good shape. “All right, but listen, kids: It’s not like they’re showing any movies. It’s going to be dark and quiet, so we’ll just drive by and head on home.”

Satisfied, the kids sat back and Logan steered toward Main Street. As he turned to head south out of town, his mother shook the second thermos he’d brought along. “Did you flavor this coffee?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d try a Christmas blend. A little peppermint.”

“That’s been done, dear.” Just the same, she set the thermos back down.

“It has?” As someone who loved to experiment with coffee flavors, Logan was well aware he should be keeping up on trends outside his hometown. More than once he’d proudly introduced a new product some chain had introduced years earlier.

“For some time. Remember, you asked me to keep up on the trade magazines.”

“Okay, get this: pumpkin spice coffee.”

“Very popular.”

“I wonder why.”

“Christmas is that time when people will try flavors they’d never consider any other time of the year.”

That explained a lot, actually. “Okay, how about a day-after-Christmas coffee? For people who get up early to return stuff at the store. A little burnt, a little too cool, and not the flavor you really wanted.”

“You’re back on your game.”

Logan detected just a bit of sarcasm in his mother’s voice, but let it go when he spotted a glow ahead of them, over a slight rise in the state highway. “What’s that?”

That, it turned out, was the High View Drive-In Theater, ordinarily winterized and dark this time of year. The giant red and yellow marquee, with its attached arrow pointing toward the drive-in, was lined with multicolored lights that blinked merrily. Logan pulled over just before the entrance, and they took in the lights, and the glowing letters the lights surrounded.

WELCOME, CONNER AND FAITH! MERRY CHRISTMAS!

“Um …” Logan looked at his mother, who just pointed toward the entrance.

“The box office is all lit up, too.”

So it was, which didn’t take too much on the little wooden building. He would have expected the entrance gate to be lit too, but it was standing open. Cautiously, Logan drove up to it.

A blonde-haired teenager poked her head out. “You folks are just in time! The main feature’s about to start.”

“Beth?” Beth Hamlin didn’t work here—she was only fifteen.

Beth spoke as if reading his mind. “It’s a temp job.”

But Beth’s brother happened to be the police officer who’d pointed them toward the drive-in to begin with. “What are you up to?”

Reaching across her son, Judy handed the girl a twenty. “Merry Christmas, Beth!”

Beth waved them through. “Have fun!”

“Beth—!”

“Merry Christmas!” She closed the box office window.

“Huh.” Chance glanced at the van’s dashboard, and saw it was only six o’clock. Seemed later, this time of year—but in any case, that was plenty of time to see a movie, if that was what this was about. Would the equipment even work at forty degrees?

He drove in.

Three dozen vehicles were already parked around the low concession stand, which also held the projection room and restrooms. And yet their usual spot, on a corner close to the women’s restroom, was empty.

He recognized the vehicles, of course. Vans and SUVs, mostly, and all of them belonging to the people he’d cajoled just weeks ago into a loose organization. An organization to save the drive-in, if it came down to it. And they’d all taken time out of their busy holiday schedule for … whatever this was.

Logan took their regular spot, and looked around. The other occupants waved, smiling widely, knowing by his expression that they’d kept the element of surprise.

“I’m confused,” Faith said.

But Logan looked to his mother.

Judy Chandler held a serene smile. “It’ a good thing I put a cooler full of food in the back and made you fill the gas tank, isn’t it?”

“You scoundrel.”

Someone knocked on Logan’s window, and he opened it to see a tall, shaggy man in his mid-twenties, shrouded in a thick green parka, red gloves, and a Santa hat. He held out a full bucket of popcorn. “We don’t usually deliver, but you’re the last invited customer.”

“Thank you, Tupper.” Again, Judy handed cash across while Logan took the popcorn.

“Isn’t this awesome? I’ll be back with one candy for each of you. What’ll it be?”

“Use your imagination,” Logan said, shaking his head.

Waving, the young man headed back to the concession booth.

For a moment Logan sat silently, while Judy handed the popcorn back to her grandkids. Then he reached forward to turn the radio from Christmas music to a channel he’d memorized when the drive-in did away with its window speakers.

“The movie’s starting in just a few moments, folks. We have a double feature tonight: Elf, followed by Home Alone. Thanks so much to everyone who’s come out for this fund raiser for the Save the High View Defense Fund.”

Logan eyed his mother. “If it becomes necessary,” she said.

“And thanks especially for keeping the surprise for everyone’s favorite coffee man and his family. Merry Christmas to the Chandlers!”

Faith and Conner jumped up and down, hooting and hollering at Marty Dunn’s words.

“Beth Hamlin isn’t getting paid for this, is she?” Logan asked.

“It’s a fund raiser, dear.”

“And neither is Tupper.”

“He gets free popcorn. You know he loves his popcorn.”

Ahead of them, the big screen glowed to life with the coming attractions—for the same movies they were about to see. By now Logan couldn’t hold back his smile. “We don’t even know there’s going to be a legal battle. That’s not the only reason for this, is it? Something tells me you and Marty Dunn have been talking about how down I get at Christmastime.”

“Well, it was either that or have the Ghost of Christmas Future come after you.”

“Dad, have some popcorn!” Faith handed the bucket up to Logan, and he took a handful. Still warm.

He handed the bucket back, and saw his children grinning ear to ear over their names on the marquee and the surprise of a drive-in movie in December. Thank goodness there hadn’t been a heavy snow, after all.

And … Logan realized he was still grinning, too. He glanced at Judy, and touched her hand. “Thanks.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to make new traditions, son. Merry Christmas.”

And so it was.