The highlight was a 4:00 p.m. reading upstairs in the café where the autographing parties took place. Bruce shoved all the tables to the walls and packed in two hundred chairs. Three local writers and two high school students read original holiday stories.
Mercer, the best known of the bunch and the crowd’s favorite, read a story she had been writing for many years. It was called “Almost a White Christmas,” and she promised it was true. In the story, she spent each summer on the island with her beloved grandmother, Tessa, who lived there year-round, and alone, except when Mercer was visiting. For various reasons, her childhood was not always pleasant, and when she was in school she dreamed of the next summer with Tessa. Without a doubt her happiest moments as a kid were on the beach with her grandmother. One Christmas, her mother was ill and hospitalized and the house was quite gloomy. Mercer and her sister prevailed upon their father to drive them to Camino Island for the holidays. Tessa welcomed them warmly and they immediately began decorating a tree and going through the usual rituals. Two days before Christmas, the weather turned cold and windy, and, suddenly, there was a chance of snow, something Tessa, a longtime resident, had never experienced on the island.
“Just like now,” Mercer said, teasing her audience. Now in Santa Rosa it was forty-five degrees and windy, with the chance of snow fading quickly, but no one believed it.
Back to her story. On Christmas Eve, Tessa took the girls to church for the early evening service. When they came out, they looked to the dark sky and saw no snow. At bedtime, they read stories, opened gifts, and even put out cookies and milk for Santa. Early Christmas morning, they peeked out the window, praying for a blanket of snow, but saw none.
Over pancakes and sausage, Tessa said that, according to the old-timers on the island, a measurable snowfall happened about once every fifty years, and there had never been a white Christmas. The girls were disappointed, but they lived in Memphis and were accustomed to mild winters. After breakfast, they bundled up and followed Tessa down the boardwalk to the beach. She had to check on turtle eggs. When they arrived, they saw something unusual. The ocean was at high tide with strong winds pushing the waves onto the beach. Long ridges of thick, white foam from the surf covered the sand and blew into the first row of dunes. The wind whipped the foam into small clouds and swirls as it covered the beach. The girls squealed as they kicked the foam and tried in vain to grab it. As far as they could see in both directions, the beach was covered with foam.
Tessa stopped, spread her arms, and said, “Look, girls, it’s almost a white Christmas after all.”
The turtle eggs would have to wait. They hustled back to the cottage where Tessa got her camera.
Thomas handed Mercer an enlarged black and white photo of her and her sister knee-deep in what appeared to be snow. She showed it to the audience and said, “Christmas Day 1997. Believe it or not, that’s our beach just down the road.”
The audience admired the photo and passed it around. Bruce cracked, “How long did the snow last?”
“About two hours,” Mercer said and everyone laughed.
She said, “Now, I have proof that there was a big snowstorm here many years ago. In fact, a young girl who lived in this area back then is still with us and she told me the snow was almost up to her knees.”
She paused and looked around. It was obvious no one believed her. She motioned for Lovely to leave her seat in the front row and join her at the front. Mercer said, “Folks, this is Lovely Jackson, who lives in The Docks. Some of you know her because she published a book about her life ten years ago. She has a story for you.”
Lovely smiled and looked around calmly as if she appeared onstage every night. “Thank you, Mercer, for inviting me, and thank you, Bruce Cable, for hosting this fine party.” She spoke slowly, eloquently, with every syllable getting its due. She looked from face to face, carefully making eye contact with everyone. She smiled at Diane, seated in the third row.
