This is for You. Happy Christmas, with Love.

With Footsteps Free: A Christmas Story
Scene One
Jacob heaved a huge sigh, melodramatically sincere, as he hustled and bustled his way out of his front-row first-class-upgrade seat and off the plane, sparing only the briefest moment for a practised wink and nod at the eagerly accommodating flight attendant. He was across the bridge and into the nearly deserted boarding area while his fellow passengers were still unbuckling their seat belts and retrieving their carry-ons from the overhead compartments.
He hit the escalator to Baggage Claim and scuttled down it noisily, his carry-on bag crashing and clattering against each step. There were only a few bleary greeters waiting at the bottom of the escalator in these wee hours of the morning; Jacob gave the one person in the group he recognised a sidelong glance as he rushed past her, his hurried "Hey, how's it goin'?" requiring no answer to his rapidly departing back.
He was travelling light, carry-on only. By the time his fellow passengers had made their way to the still-silent baggage carousel, the waiting taxi he'd flung himself into was leaving the airport, mere minutes after the plane had landed. When properly motivated, Jacob moved at a pace few could equal. He ran swiftly, away from and toward.
Safe in the cab, he leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Memory came to him, intense and immediate; he wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, hugging the sweetness of that memory close. As the taxi made its way along the empty streets, Jacob sighed quietly and smiled in the darkness.
Scene Two
Jacob walked down the stairs carefully, each step causing him distinct discomfort - the foolish dress shoes pinching his toes, the binding suit jacket bunching up between his shoulders, the relentless waistband of his slacks threatening to cut off the blood supply to his lower extremities. He'd let himself be pressured into dressing up for the fancy-schmancy restaurant they'd eaten supper at and the theatre they'd just left. Now it was time for the pub, time for his part of the evening. Jacob had firm plans for the rest of his night: In record time, he would no longer care how frigging uncomfortable his clothes were.
The pub was packed, cheerful chaos teetering on the pinnacle of holiday reunion and revelry. Jacob paused a moment in the doorway, his eyes lighting up and a wide grin spreading across his face, before plunging into the welcoming warmth. He worked his way with great pleasure through the noisy crowd on a direct path to the bar, exchanging hellos and hugs and good wishes each step along the way. His target objective achieved - a double whiskey soda in hand - Jacob turned around and leaned back against the bar...ready, willing and eager to be swept up in the Christmas Tide.
Standing centre stage in the arc of an appreciative audience, Jacob was in the middle of recounting a hilariously salacious story - and near the end of his third double - when he first noticed her sitting at one of the tables in the rear of the pub, sipping a pint and talking to a friend. Momentarily losing his place in the story, he gazed at her over the shoulder of the short, loud man standing directly across from him. As if she could feel his gaze across the room, she looked up and met his eyes; Jacob knew in a split second that she'd seen him when he'd first come in the door.
He got the rhythm of his story back, barely missing a beat, but now his mind was elsewhere - at another time, in another place. He'd let down his guard then, taken a chance there, moved a few tentative steps forward...and then gone into retreat. He looked at her again, and again their eyes met, her face serious. But then she smiled at him and he knew the only thing holding him back was himself.
Still he hesitated, shifting restlessly from foot to foot, his miserable shoes giving him grief with every movement, while Short Loud Man started into a story of his own. Telling himself he was merely heading to the bathroom, Jacob excused himself abruptly and ran the holiday gauntlet back toward the rear of the pub, which was noticeably less crowded than up front by the bar. He watched her watching him make his slow progress in her direction, her smile steady and warm. And hopeful.
Jacob came to a sudden stop a few feet away from her table, feeling awkward and inarticulate, hopelessly tied up in inextricable, inexplicable knots. She was looking at him, now clearly puzzled, and still he stood there, frozen in place, posed as the perfect Statue Of A Fool. "Happy Christmas, Mary," he finally said, not very loudly, a distinct pleading note in his voice. He saw her face soften and knew that she'd heard him.
He started to turn away, but halted his motion when she rose from her chair, frozen in place again as she moved toward him. Suddenly and excruciatingly aware of his wardrobe discomforts, Jacob squared his shoulders and stood up painfully straight, sucking in everything as tightly as he possibly could. She smiled when she saw that, a kind and knowing smile, looking first up into his eyes, then down at his belly, then back up into his eyes again.
Now standing whisper-close, she reached out and touched his right side, her hand inside his jacket, two fingers resting lightly on the upper edge of his belt. They both watched as her fingers traced gently, slowly, along the arc of that belt-edge, his belly first trembling and then relaxing, moving to meet her touch as if it had a will of its own. She looked back up, her smile now secret and deep, her eyes dark and intent. "It's who you are, Jacob," she murmured, soft and low. "It's how I like you best - I like you as you are." Then she gave his left arm a gentle squeeze and returned his "Happy Christmas," with a smile as sweet as any angel's.
Still rooted to the spot, Jacob opened his mouth, wondering what words might come out of it. He didn't find out, not on that night, because at that moment he was bear-hugged from behind by an old friend he hadn't seen since Christmas Last. Turning toward the friend with his own uniquely characteristic mixture of relief and regret, Jacob answered the roared greeting in matching decibels. By the time he turned back around, he saw she'd slipped away, gone back to her pint, her friend, her table. He peered at her, hesitating yet again. She raised her glass to him, and he answered with his own.
As he let himself be led back up to the bar, Jacob shrugged off his jacket; its absence made it easier to feel the warmth of her smile on his back. It was, he had noted with unalloyed relief, a blessedly patient smile.
Scene Three
Jacob bounced his way exuberantly down the street, his steps confident and sure despite the treacherously icy sidewalk. He'd just gotten word that his first set of performances on his own, away from the rest of the Company, had been approved; it was everything he'd been waiting for and it was finally happening. On a day like today, an extraordinary day like today, there would be no slips, no falls.
The unplowed streets were still a mess from last night's snowstorm, so he'd decided to walk downtown instead of driving, ostensibly to pick up a few small last-minute gifts - Christmas Eve being about as last-minute as it gets - before the stores closed early. Truth be told, he was too excited to sit still, too thrilled by the end of his long wait to quietly putter around the house. Jacob wanted to sing, loudly. He wanted to shout out his Good Tidings to each passer-by.
Glancing across the street, he noticed a woman coming out the door of a clothing store, struggling with a half-dozen large bags and gift boxes. When she shifted the load in search of a better balance, he saw her face and stopped dead in his tracks. Still watching, Jacob saw Mary look down at the ice with trepidation, then saw the look of resolve on her face as she tightened her grip on the armload and began walking tentatively down the street, away from him.
Jacob didn't hesitate, not one second, not on this Day of Days. He dashed across the street with a newfound nimble grace, coming up quickly behind her, reaching out and touching her shoulder - which startled her and caused her to lose her balance on the sheet of ice beneath her feet. But he stopped her fall, one hand on her back, the other catching hold of her elbow. Steadied in his grasp, she turned around to face him.
They exchanged hellos, his eager, hers a bit bemused. After a fleetingly awkward moment of silence, Jacob simply held out both of his arms, nodding toward her boxes and bags. Mary gave him a long, thoughtful look - then handed it all over to him. He arranged the load efficiently, then, with a crooked little smile on his face, Jacob played the role of Old World Courtier, offering his arm to the Lady. That made her laugh, a clear, hopeful sound ascending lightly in the crisp winter air. She took his arm and off they went, him setting a slow and careful pace for her sake.
He asked her how she was doing and was keenly pleased when she proved she knew him well enough to answer briefly and then give him back the question. Jacob bubbled over with his Big News, going on at length about his own shows to come, about how wonderful it was that the bonds that held the Company together were strong enough and resilient enough to bend without breaking, keeping its members securely in the fold while still allowing them to venture out on their own.
All the way back to her house, they walked, side-by-side and arm-in-arm...down the street, up the steps by the Memorial, then tackling the steep slope of the final hill. Jacob talked each step of the way and Mary hung on his every word. It would have been impossible to decide which pair of eyes was shining more brightly with delight.
They came to a full stop at her front door. Now it was Mary's turn to hesitate. She looked up at Jacob, standing there with his arms full of her Christmas, a goofy, expectant smile on his face. She looked at him and he saw her melt, a complete and utter surrender, right before his eyes; it made him feel like he could do anything. Like he could do Everything.
Mary took off her gloves and he expected her to retrieve her key from her purse, but instead she leaned forward and rummaged through one of the bags he was holding, coming up with a small gift box. "I bought this for you," she told him. "I wasn't sure I'd give it to you, but when I saw it, I knew it belonged to you." She offered him the small box, and he carefully set down her bags and boxes to accept it.
"Go ahead and open it," she said, looking away from him, suddenly bashful. "It's a bit silly, but it really is You." Needing no more persuasion, Jacob opened the box. Inside was a small silver spoon, a child's spoon, with the words More! More! etched on the handle. Jacob laughed out loud at the sight, a resonant echo filling the street with its warmth. "It's perfect!" he exclaimed, now grinning hugely. It was perfect - perfect for the day, perfect for him.
When he looked back up at her, she was sliding her key into the lock. She opened the door and then looked back over her shoulder at him with a persuasive smile, bashful no longer. "Would you like to gather up those gifts and come inside for a cup of coffee or tea and a slice of cherry cake?"
"I suppose I should," Jacob answered, jauntily breathless. He waggled the little spoon enticingly. "Seeing as how I've got my own utensil."
Mary held the door open for Jacob as he came inside. She closed it gently behind him, just hard enough to ring the Christmas wreath's bells.
Epilogue
The lights blazed up for the first show of the New Year, Jacob's first performance all his own. The sold-out crowd roared as he strode out onto the stage, the smile on his face that of a man whose dreams were coming true right before his eyes, the expression in those eyes that of a deeply grateful boy.
It was a spectacular evening. By the time it reached its end, the shouts of the crowd - the shouts of his crowd - were echoing in Jacob's ears, in his mind and in his heart: More! More!
With much gratitude to those who said they were glad to get a Jacob Story for Christmas. I love it when others think as highly of him as I do.
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Got on a lucky one
Came in at eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So Happy Christmas
I love you, Baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true - "Fairytale Of New York," The Pogues
A Very Merry Christmas to One and to All, followed by a Happy New Year of More.
And a Heartful of Love.