A Christmas to Remember (19 page)

“Sure, I’ll call you in a little while and let you know what’s going on.”

Sara and Luke dressed for the snow with hats, gloves, boots, and down jackets and climbed into Luke’s truck. Sara found a snow shovel on her porch and tossed it into the back. The snow was much deeper than they had expected. Over six inches had fallen during the afternoon and it was still coming down steadily.

The neighborhood between Sara’s house and Lillian’s looked still and quiet, the houses, cars, and wide front lawns were covered in a soft, white blanket of snow. It was growing dark outside, and the twilight cast a bluish tint on the scene. Sara didn’t see anyone out on the street, though windows glowed with warm yellow lights, making the houses look cozy and warm.

Not Lillian’s house, of course. The tall, gray Victorian was dark, as usual. Worse, it was forbidding and eerie-looking compared with the other houses on the street, which all looked like pretty little gingerbread cottages.

Sara felt sorry for her grandmother, stranded in her bed and unable to get up to even put a light on. She hoped Lillian hadn’t gotten frustrated and maybe even fallen trying to fend for herself.

Luke parked the truck and they waded through the snow to the front door. Luke had brought a flashlight, which made it easier to find the spare key and fit it in the door. Sara unlocked the heavy door quickly and pushed it open.

Luke stood behind her, but didn’t follow. “Maybe I should wait out here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll freeze. Come inside. She’s lucky we’ve come at all.”

Luke followed Sara into the foyer. He switched on a light, and Sara walked back to the spare room that had been turned into Lillian’s temporary bedroom.

“Who’s there? Who is it?” Lillian shouted from her bed. “Identify yourself immediately! I have a gun!”

“You don’t have a gun, Lillian. What are you talking about?”

Lillian pressed her hand to her chest. “You scared me half to death. I thought someone was breaking into the house!”

“Didn’t Emily call and tell you we were coming?”

“She probably did call. I dropped the phone and couldn’t reach
it.” Lillian peered at her. “Who’s
we
? Your husband is here? Is that what you mean?”

“Yes, Luke drove me over. He’s out in the living room.” Sara spotted the cordless phone on the floor and picked it up. She would have to call Emily right away; she was probably worried sick by now. “Should I tell Luke to wait out in the snow when he was kind enough to run over here to help you?”

Lillian grunted and turned her head to one side. “That obnoxious woman who was here today, calls herself a private duty nurse, she ran out on me. Just like that.” Lillian snapped her fingers. “Left me high and dry. I’m going to call that agency first thing in the morning. She should have her license taken away for that.”

“She just walked out? You didn’t have an argument with her or anything like that?”

Lillian gave Sara a wide-eyed stare. “Of course not. What would I have to argue with her about? I barely said two words to her. I’m at the mercy of strangers, a prisoner in my own home. I’ve barely had a thing to eat or drink all day. I’m so hungry I could faint. I’m going to waste away in this bed. No one will even know or care.”

Sara sifted through the drama to the facts: her grandmother was hungry and thirsty, though she suspected there was some exaggeration to this report, since a tray of food from a recent meal was sitting on the bed table.

Sara picked up the tray. “I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“Yes, but first I would like some tea. In my pink flowered cup, the bone china one. Those ugly mugs these nurses choose have such thick rims, I can hardly drink from them.”

Lillian was so particular. Even under the most trying circumstances, she still maintained her high standards. Maybe that’s what kept her going all these years, Sara thought as she left the room.

Sara called Emily from the kitchen and calmed her fears.

“I’m so glad you’re over there with her,” Emily said. “I finally got in touch with the night nurse. She’s got car trouble and can’t get down here. I’ve called the agency emergency number, but it’s Sunday night. I’m not sure they can find anyone on such late notice.”

“I understand. Luke and I can stay. It’s not a problem.” She would explain it to Luke. She was sure he would understand. He could go back to the apartment and get them a few things to stay over.

Sara fixed the tea and found Lillian’s special cup and saucer. She headed for her grandmother’s room, bracing herself to break the news.

But when she walked in she found Lillian asleep, her chin resting on her chest as she dozed. She was holding something in her hand—it looked like the pages of a letter.

Sara set the tea cup down. She slipped the letter out of her grandmother’s hand and set it beside the tea on the table. Then she cleared off some books and newspapers from her grandmother’s bed and tried to pull the blanket a little higher on her chest. But the blanket wouldn’t budge. It was stuck. Something was holding it down.

Tucked beside Lillian and hidden under an afghan, Sara found an old shoe box. She recognized it immediately. It was the box of photographs from the attic, the one she had seen on the stairs the day Lillian fell. Sara picked it up and opened the lid. A musty smell of old paper and dust floated up and made her nose feel stuffy.

Sara glanced at her grandmother, softly snoring, her reading glasses sliding down her nose. It was tempting to go through the contents of the box. Lillian would never know.

No, Sara decided quickly. It wasn’t right. Not without Lillian’s permission. Her grandmother was feeling her privacy invaded
enough lately. Sara put the lid back on and placed it back where she found it, cuddled next to Lillian on the bed, hidden under the afghan.

Boston, September 1955

L
ILLIAN WAITED HOURS TO READ THE LETTER FROM
O
LIVER
—partly because it was hard to slip away from her family, and partly because she was afraid to see what it said.

After dinner, she went up to her room and closed the door, locking it just in case Beth decided to breeze in.

She sat on her bed and pulled the letter out and unfolded it. She felt so nervous that she could barely focus her eyes to read. Yet, when she read the words, it was as if she heard his voice. It was as if he were standing right there, in her room.

Lillian’s hand shook. She read the letter a second time, hardly able to believe Oliver’s words. What should she do? What in the world was she to do?

She couldn’t go to meet him. That would be…impossible. But how could she ignore him? How could she ignore this letter, this desperate plea from the heart? She would have liked to believe that she was not moved, not persuaded by his dramatic expressions of emotion. But she knew she was. She felt loved. She felt wanted by someone. Desperately. No one had ever felt that way about her before.

Oliver Warwick loved her. For that fact alone, even if she didn’t return his feelings, didn’t she owe him at least a few words of explanation? A few kind words to soften the blow and a respectful parting? Even George Tilles had given her that.

She thought maybe she did owe him that much. She thought maybe she should go to meet him on Saturday. They would sit somewhere public, in a coffee shop perhaps, and have a talk. It would be the decent thing to do.

As the week wore on, Lillian changed her mind a thousand times. She carried the letter in the bottom of her purse and slipped it out and read it over and over again. She didn’t know what to do. She felt sorry for Oliver but also didn’t want to encourage him any
further. And if her parents ever found out she had gone to meet him…she didn’t want to imagine the consequences.

Every night before she fell asleep, Lillian thought only of Oliver. His face floated above her as she drifted off to her dreams.

L
ILLIAN
’
S MOTHER WAS SURPRISED TO SEE
L
ILLIAN DRESSED IN A
good suit on Saturday afternoon. “Where are you going? Do you need to go into work today?”

That would have been a good excuse, Lillian realized. Why hadn’t she thought of it? But then her mother may have tried to call the museum and she wouldn’t have been there. She was already nearly an hour late, having patiently sat with her father as he went through his Saturday ritual of recording her expenses for the week. She hadn’t quite dared to try to slip out of that.

“I’m going shopping…and out to lunch, with a girlfriend. I’m meeting her downtown. We might go to the movies later, too,” Lillian added for good measure. She wasn’t used to lying. She hoped she wasn’t overdoing it.

“Oh, that’s nice,” her mother said. “Well, call later if you’re not going to be home for dinner.”

“Yes, I will.” Lillian draped a silk scarf around her neck, grabbed her handbag, and left the house quickly before her mother could ask any more questions.

It was a bright day but cool. Fall was in the air. Lillian hailed a taxi and hopped in.

“Where to, miss?”

“The Public Garden, please.” Lillian sat back and stared out the window, suddenly feeling misgivings over what she was about to do.

The streets flew by, bringing her closer and closer to Oliver. The thought unnerved her. She nearly opened the door and
jumped out. Finally, the cab pulled up to the park. Lillian paid the driver and climbed out.

She glanced at her watch. She was over an hour late. She wondered if Oliver would even be there. She didn’t have to do this at all. She could turn around and go home, she told herself.

But she knew in her heart, she didn’t want to do that. She took a breath and walked into the garden, taking the path that led to the swan boats. The boats were still running and the park was filled with people, couples walking together and families with children and young mothers pushing prams.

Lillian silently practiced the little speech she had prepared for Oliver. She would be sensible but kind. She would explain how she was deeply flattered by his attentions, that she respected and even admired him. But she would also remind him that she had always been very clear that they had no future together. He had to grant her that. She couldn’t be blamed for his feelings, could she? She was sorry, very sorry.

She looked up and he was there. Standing right in front of her. He walked closer. His face lit up as he gazed down at her. His dark eyes burned with a strange, amazing light, as if he couldn’t believe that she had actually appeared.

She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t even speak.

He put his hands on her shoulders, and she stepped into his arms and tilted her head back. Then she closed her eyes as he kissed her. Kissed her as if he were a drowning man, finally breaking the surface and finding a breath of air.

Southport Hospital, Present-day

W
HENEVER
L
UCY FELT RATTLED
,
SHE TRIED TO REMEMBER
Jack’s advice. She concentrated but also tried to relax and stop worrying about making another mistake.

On Wednesday morning, she and Margaret Sherman were attending a patient who was recovering from an appendectomy. A man in his mid-forties, he also suffered from diabetes. Margaret pulled his chart out from the box on the room’s door, glanced at it, then handed it to Lucy.

Inside the room, Lucy’s supervisor watched as Lucy checked his temperature, blood pressure, and listened to his lungs.

“All right, Lucy. I’d like you to start a new IV, please.”

Margaret stepped back and Lucy knew that she was on her own. Lucy felt a rush of nerves. Her mind went blank. She walked
toward the IV pole, and started to untangle the line from the IV bag that hung there, all the while unable to remember what to do next.

She was doing this to herself, she realized. Why was she sabotaging herself like this? Did she want to fail? Did she think someplace, deep down inside that she didn’t deserve to be a nurse and the best she could do was serve burgers at the Clam Box for the rest of her life?

“Lucy?”

Lucy took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down before she turned. “Yes?”

Margaret held out the chart with the doctor’s orders scribbled on them. “You need this?”

“Yes, absolutely…. The line is all twisted. I wanted to straighten it out first.”

“Very good.”

Lucy scanned the doctor’s notes and found the orders for the IV, the rate of insulin drip for the patient. The routine she had learned cold in the nursing lab and the medical principles behind it came back in a rush, as if she had suddenly hit the right key on a computer.

She left the room briefly, returned with a fresh solution, and quickly changed the bag. Then she watched the rate of flow on the monitor, double-checking that it was at the level prescribed by the doctor. Too much or too little could cause severe problems, even a diabetic coma.

“Are you done?” Margaret asked.

Lucy already knew that was a trick question. “Not quite. I just want to check the catheter.”

Margaret nodded. “Very good,” she said quietly.

“I need to check your catheter, Mr. Cordova. Could you show it to me, please?”

The patient held his arm toward her and Lucy checked that the catheter was functioning correctly, there was no infection, and it didn’t need any fresh tape. Everything looked fine.

Margaret walked over and took a look for herself. “Okay. That looks good to me.”

Lucy glanced down at the bed and had to smile to herself. “Mr. Cordova, someone left the guardrail of your bed down. We need to keep that up at all times, please. It’s for your own safety.”

The patient looked up at her. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.”

“That’s okay. Good thing I caught it for you.” Lucy yanked the guardrail up, locked it in place then glanced at Margaret.

Was she trying not to smile? It was hard to tell.

Margaret left the room and Lucy followed. She knew she would get a decent grade today and maybe even a little extra credit.

Cape Light, Present-day

“H
ERE YOU ARE
,
TEA AND TOAST
, L
ILLIAN
. A
ND A TWO
-
MINUTE
EGG
with orange marmalade. I put it in a little dish, see? Sara said you don’t like jars on the table.”

Luke emerged from the kitchen, carrying Lillian’s breakfast tray. She leaned back in her wheelchair, her mouth agape.

“Where’s Sara? Who said
you
could serve me my breakfast? Did you stay over here again last night? The snowstorm was an emergency. I didn’t agree to a regular situation.”

Luke set the tray down in front of her and wiped his hands on the towel he had slung over his shoulder.

“Sara had to leave early. She’s covering an early meeting in Gloucester for the paper.” Luke shrugged. “If you don’t want the breakfast, that’s fine. I’ll take it back to the kitchen and eat it myself.”

Lillian sat up straighter in her chair. “You’ll do no such thing. Get your own breakfast.”

“I will. In a minute.” Luke sat down at the table where he had left a mug of coffee. “I think it’s time you and I had a little chat.”

Lillian peered at him. “Really? Are you ready to admit that you strong-armed my granddaughter into marrying you?”

“She told me that you called me…Svengali.” He drew out the word, giving it an extra mysterious sound.

“That was extreme. But you get the idea.”

“Do
you
get the idea is the question.”

Lillian picked up a slice of toast and nibbled the corner. “What idea is that, pray tell?”

“The idea that Sara and I love each other and are married now. Period. If you don’t like it, fine. I’m not asking for your blessing. But Sara wants to help you out while you’re stuck in that chair and that means I help you, too. We’re a package, a two-for-one deal. Where she goes, I go.”

“Very sweet,” Lillian sneered. “You’re nearly as devoted as a Labrador. If Sara was lonely, she should have gotten herself a dog instead of marrying you.”

Luke laughed. “Maybe, but you wouldn’t have liked having a dog around here any better than you like me.”

“You always were a gate crasher,” Lillian muttered.

“Yes, I’ve crashed your gates again,” he admitted easily. “I’ve been sleeping here for the past three nights. Didn’t you know that?”

Lillian avoided his eyes. “I knew. But I didn’t want to make a big thing about it. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Sara had kept him and Lillian separated. Not in an obvious way, but it wasn’t very hard in the big house with Luke upstairs and Lillian confined to the downstairs.

“Of course you didn’t want to make a big deal about it. Especially since you can’t abide any of the help Emily brings to stay with you overnight.”

Lillian pursed her lips in distaste. “I don’t know where she finds these women. They scare me. She tells me that they’re bona fide private duty nurses, but who’s to say, really? They could be robbers. They could kill me in my sleep. There was a news show the other day that showed how easy it is for these grifters to impersonate any type of profession they please. Why, when you board an airplane you don’t even know if a real pilot is flying it.”

Luke sighed, hiding a smile. “You like having Sara here, don’t you?”

“I trust Sara. I know she’s not going to run off in the night with the silver flatware.” She stared straight at Luke. “I can’t say the same for you, however.”

He stared right back at her. “The silverware must be hidden pretty well. I haven’t found it yet.”

That got her. Lillian choked on a bite of egg and had to wash it down with her tea. “That egg is like rubber,” she informed him, regaining her composure. “I’m sure it wasn’t two minutes.”

“Two minutes and eleven seconds. Sorry.”

She put down her spoon and rested her hands on the table. “So, what do you want from me? What are you driving at?”

“I want a cease-fire. Even countries at war take a break every once in a while. So let’s agree to disagree. I want you to accept my presence in Sara’s life, period. For her sake, not mine.”

“Very noble.”

“I have my moments.”

“So I’ve heard.” Lillian crossed her good arm over the one in the cast. “By accepting your presence I suppose you mean staying over in this house when she does, without me raising the roof about it?”

“That’s the idea,” he said encouragingly. “You know, I have some influence with Sara, too. If I told her it was uncomfortable for me to be here with you, or to have her stay here alone, she would listen to me.”

“So, you’re threatening me?”

Luke shrugged. “Not at all. I’m just giving you the big picture. Sara loves you, Lillian. Heaven only knows why…but she loves me, too.”

“Don’t fool yourself, the powers above are equally baffled on that one,” she said dryly. She sighed and smoothed back her gray hair. “I suppose I’m in a losing position, sick and weak as I am. You are taking advantage of that. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“No, not much,” he said lightly. “So, was that a yes?”

Lillian’s chin trembled. Finally, she nodded.

Luke’s smile widened. Victory was sweet, sweet as orange marmalade.

He thrust out his hand. “Okay then, let’s shake on it.”

Lillian looked appalled for a moment, then when she saw he was serious she offered her good hand and he gently shook it.

“I’m doing this for Sara’s sake,” she said. “It’s like abstaining from a vote. I still haven’t given my blessing.”

“I understand. Once you get your casts removed and you’re back to your fighting weight, we can go at it again. I promise.” He stood up. “I’d better get ready for work now. Your day nurse will be here any minute, but I won’t go until she arrives.”

“What a comfort,” Lillian murmured.

“By the way, Sara wants you to look at these.” He reached into his pocket and tossed a pile of paint chips on the table.

Lillian held one up and examined it. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

“Sara wants me to paint the room you’re staying in. She says it’s depressing. She was thinking of light blue or maybe yellow.”

“The room
is
dreary,” Lillian agreed. “Yellow would be nice. Nothing too bright,” she added in a fearful tone. “A soft yellow, more of a vanilla color. Something English-looking, with white trim.”

“That’s the spirit.” Luke patted Lillian on the shoulder, ignoring how she flinched at his touch. “There are going to be some changes around here, Lillian. Brace yourself.”

“Oh bother. That’s just what I didn’t want to hear.”

O
N
S
ATURDAY MORNING
L
UCY WAS SURPRISED TO FIND
C
HARLIE
in the kitchen, cooking eggs and bacon for the boys’ breakfast. He had gone out early to open the diner, and she expected him to stay there most of the day.

“Charlie, what are you doing home?” She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table.

“I just went in to take care of the rush. Jimmy can handle the rest. I’ll go back later; I’m on tonight anyway. The boys want to put up the Christmas tree now. Don’t you remember?”

No, she didn’t. The last thing Lucy wanted to do was put up the tree. She just wasn’t ready. All the boxes up from the basement, all the decorations all over the place. She didn’t need that mess today. She already had a huge one all over the house.

She had been working all week, either at the hospital or the diner, and in between that, going to classes. There was house cleaning, laundry and food shopping to do. How in the world could she stop everything and put up the tree?

“Do we have to?” she asked quietly. “I have to go into the
hospital this afternoon, and I have a lot to do around here this morning.”

Charlie dished eggs and bacon onto plates. “The hospital? On Saturday?”

“Margaret said if I made up the hours I missed when Jamie was sick, she would take away the absent grade, which is almost like an F. Which I don’t need.”

Charlie shook his head. “All I know is I paid a fortune for that tree. The boys had to pick out the biggest one on the lot. It’s sitting in a bucket in the backyard and if we don’t put it up today, there’s going to be needles everywhere.”

“Mom, we need to put the tree up. It’s almost Christmas,” Jamie reminded her.

It was already December ninth, Lucy realized. Christmas was closer than she wanted it to be.

“I made an ornament in art, see?” Jamie held up a tangle of red and green pipe cleaners, covered with glue and sparkly stuff that was falling on his eggs.

“Very nice, honey. What is that, a snowflake?” Lucy asked vaguely.

“It’s a star.”

“Oh, right. Nice.” She glanced at Charlie. “Okay, we’ll start right after breakfast. I’ll go down to the basement and get everything.”

“I’ll help you.” Jamie jumped up from his seat and followed her. He was happy, at least. His older brother sat hunched over his food and just rolled his eyes.

Lucy liked to decorate the tree at night. She would put on Christmas music and make hot cocoa, and Charlie would make a fire in the hearth. When the tree was all decked out, they would shut off the lamps and look at the Christmas tree lit up in the dark.

It didn’t feel right to be doing this in broad daylight, but she couldn’t stop to worry about the ambience. Charlie secured the tree in the stand and strung the lights while she sorted out the ornaments, placing the open boxes all over the room.