“It’s only a couple of weeks until Christmas,” David said. “I mean, it’s already the eleventh.”
“One week and six days until Christmas Eve,” Jack corrected him. “That’s how I calculate. Christmas Eve, we close at five o’clock sharp. If you haven’t bought a tree by then, that’s not my problem.”
“One week and six days isn’t long. I can stand it. She’ll be outside most of the time. I’ll hardly see her.”
“You’ll hardly see her at all,” Jack agreed.
“I don’t want you to take her job away for no reason, Dad. Not because of me,” David said quietly. “I can handle it. Don’t worry.”
Jack glanced at him. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”
His father’s words made David feel good, as if he had lived up to Jack’s expectations that he would make the right call here, one that favored fairness and a generous spirit.
The sign for the tree farm came into view. Jack turned the truck onto the long drive that wound up to the house. Down below at the tree stand lot, David saw rows of cars already parked under the bright lights.
Jack parked the truck and turned off the engine. “I’d better get out there. Need some help getting into the house?”
David pushed open his door. “No, sir. I’m good.”
He was tired and achy from the therapy session and probably could have used a little help, pulling his walker out from the half seat in the back of the cab and setting it up so he could balance once he got down. But tonight he felt better doing it himself.
As David let himself into the house he could tell it was empty. Even Katie was outside, helping Julie in the Christmas shop. He pictured her sitting at the counter, gluing random bits of ribbons to foam ornaments. Julie just let her play with the stuff to amuse herself, but sometimes Katie’s concoctions came out really good and people wanted to buy them.
He took off his coat and stared out the front window, looking at the activity at the tree stand. He searched for Christine and finally found her, helping a couple pick out a tree. She was wearing her shearling jacket and a Red Sox cap tonight, her long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.
His father was lucky to have such a cute sales clerk, David thought. She was going to sell a million trees for him.
He watched for a few minutes longer, then decided he’d had enough. Who was he kidding? He wanted to be out there. With her. With his folks. Working and feeling useful. The only time he felt productive lately was working out at the PT sessions.
The last week or so, while everyone was outside working, he had tried to help out around the house. Whatever he could manage to do—clean up the kitchen, empty the dishwasher, throw in some laundry. He even fixed a dinner or two with food Julie bought and instructions she left for him. A meatloaf one night—that had been easy—and breaded chicken, oven baked on another night.
When he had gotten stuck with the zucchini, he looked up a recipe on the Internet, instead of bothering Julie. It had turned out pretty tasty; even Kate ate her vegetables that night.
This past week, he spotted a good recipe in the newspaper for short ribs and told Julie what ingredients to buy so he could try it. The cooking was a help to her and Jack, and there was something about cooking that was getting him hooked. You put in the time and effort, and you ended up with something you could sit down and eat and enjoy.
Of course, there was a downside to it for him. It hurt to stay on his feet for any length of time, especially after a long therapy session. Once in a while, he sat down to chop, resting his hip, giving himself a break. And when even that didn’t help, he just stuck with it, forcing himself to focus on the job and ignore the pain.
Feeling useful and contributing around here in some small way was worth a few aches and pains, he decided. Better then lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
He was going to make pasta with vegetables tonight, but it was too early to start cooking. David wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He needed some distraction, or he would end up with his face pressed against that window all night.
He went into his room and turned on his computer to check his e-mail. An army acquaintance who had also been recently released from the service with injuries had written to him. They hadn’t been close, but David empathized with the guy’s story. He sent back a quick note, one that he hoped would be encouraging.
Then he got the idea to write a real letter to a pal in his old squad. They were still stationed in Baghdad but were due to return in a month or two.
David had grown close to a lot of the guys in his squad. They were like brothers, working together to take care of each other. But Buzz Mur ray was a special pal. Buzz had been the driver of the Humvee when the missile hit. He had also managed to get out in time before the armored vehicle’s engine exploded. But Buzz was still over there risking his life every minute, and David was back here, living in complete safety.
That didn’t seem right. It made David feel guilty, undeserving. Sometimes David wished he could go back to help them. He hated to hear of losses in his battalion, which was probably why he was so lousy at corresponding. The setbacks in his recovery hadn’t helped any either. Every time he thought about writing, he couldn’t think of anything good to say; he didn’t want to send a letter filled with griping and complaints.
In his heart, David knew he owed his pal Buzz a long letter, the kind Christine used to write to him. If only to let Buzz know that he had not forgotten him, or any of the guys. Or what they were doing over there, every day and night. It was so easy to forget once you were home.
If he needed some worthwhile project to get his mind off Christine and his own pitiful little problems, maybe it was time to sit down and write that letter.
David wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting at his laptop when Kate appeared in the doorway. He turned and smiled at her. “Hey, Muffin-Head. What are you doing?”
She put her finger to her lips. “Shhh! We’re playing hide-and-seek. Don’t tell Christine I’m in here.”
Then she scampered across the room and crawled under his bed, yanking the bedspread down on one side of the mattress.
David turned back to his computer and tried to continue his letter, but deep inside he felt his heartbeat speed up, anticipating Christine’s appearance.
Soon enough, she stood in the doorway and peered inside. “Any little girls hiding in here?” she asked.
David shrugged. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
He tried not to smile. He tried hard not to even turn his head to look at her. He knew little Muffin-Head under the bed was listening to the conversation.
Christine did not seem convinced. Either his tone of voice had given Katie away—or it was the small pink sneaker, sticking out from under the quilt.
“Hmm . . . let’s just make sure, shall we?” Christine walked slowly around the bed, then crouched down and grabbed Katie’s foot by the ankle. “Got’cha!”
Katie shrieked, then laughed and slid back out, covered with dust bunnies. “How did you find me so quickly? David, did you tell?”
David frowned and shook his head. “No way.”
“He didn’t tell, honest,” Christine said quickly. “But that was fast. You can go again, it’s okay.”
“Can David play? He’s really good.”
David often played hide-and-seek with Kate. It usually took her a long time to find him. He had the advantage of his army training, having been taught to hide from the enemy.
But play with Christine? He wasn’t so sure about that.
“Sure, he can. It will be more fun with three.” Christine smiled at him and he felt his heart melt—and all his excuses for skipping the game along with it.
“All right, I’m in,” he said. He knew she was watching him. He didn’t want her to see how awkward he was, getting up from his chair and grabbing his walker. He stayed put. “How about both of you hide?”
“Okay, close your eyes and count to twenty. Slowly,” Christine told him.
David did as he was told, listening intently to the two sets of footsteps as they ran off into the far reaches of the house.
“Ready or not, here I come,” he called. He rose from the desk chair, grabbed his walker, and swung his body into place.
Katie was a cinch. He found her in about ten seconds, hiding behind the shower curtain in his bathroom.
“I guess she’s not in here,” he teased her. Then he suddenly pulled the curtain aside. “Oh yes, she is!”
She shrieked at the sight of him, which was most of the fun for her.
“Let’s find Christine. I bet I know where she hid,” Katie whispered to him.
“Lead the way,” he whispered back.
He followed her into the kitchen, moving as quietly as he could. They checked the broom closet and pantry and then the laundry room. They checked the living room, behind all the furniture and curtains, narrowing the choices down to the coat closet.
David signaled to Katie to be silent and pointed to the closet. Focusing his entire will on controlling his movements, he ever so quietly snuck up to the closet on the walker then quickly pulled the door open.
“Got’cha!” Katie called out.
Christine had not heard them coming. She shrieked then tilted off balance. David realized she must have been leaning on the door.
He quickly held out his arms and caught her as she pitched forward. The walker got stuck between them but his hands ended up clamped on her shoulders and her hands pressed to his chest. He was suddenly glad he’d been working out again. He felt the hard muscles in his arms and chest supporting her. At least he had gotten some reward for the grueling hours of PT he put in.
Her cheek and soft hair brushing his face, his senses filled with the scent of her flowery perfume.
“Oh my gosh . . . David,” she said, righting herself.
She looked as embarrassed as he felt, her cheeks flushed and wide eyes glistening. They stared at each other a moment, both stunned by the close contact. David realized she had been close enough to kiss, if he’d dared.
Maybe he would have, too. If Katie hadn’t been standing there watching them, the perfect chaperone.
“I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” Christine asked quickly.
Her question was like a dash of cold water. Totally deflating. Reminding him just how she saw him—a handicapped invalid.
“Of course you didn’t,” he said quickly.
She nodded, looking self-conscious, and quickly stepped out of his way. “I think I’d better go start Kate’s dinner. Do you want something?” she offered.
He hesitated. He was hungry, but she hadn’t been hired to babysit for him, too . . . had she?
“I’m cooking dinner tonight,” he said. “Why don’t you give Kate her bath? I’ll have the food ready by the time you’re done.”
I hope,
he silently added.
For a moment, Christine looked at him curiously, as if she didn’t quite believe he was capable of keeping that promise. “Okay, sounds like a good plan. Come one, Kate. Time for a tub,” she said cheerfully.
Katie followed her like a puppy. “Mommy bought me Little Mermaid bubbles. Want to see?”
“The Little Mermaid? She’s my favorite,” he heard Christine say, their excited voices disappearing up the stairway.
David pushed himself back to the kitchen as fast he could move the walker. Time for some speed cooking. He had a recipe and quickly pulled the ingredients out of the fridge. Large onion, garlic, parsley, bell pepper, box of mushrooms. He searched around a bit. Chicken cutlets. He added the package to the pile tucked to his chest, made his way to the counter, and dumped it.
Since he had started cooking, Julie left a lot of the pots out on the stove to make it easier for him. He set a big pot for boiling water on the burner then made a few trips back and forth from the sink with a smaller pot of water, until there was enough to boil for the pasta.
He grabbed the recipe again and followed the steps. First browning the chicken and setting it aside, then cooking the vegetables, starting with garlic and onions. When the mixture was cooked and seasoned, he cut the chicken into bite-size pieces and mixed it all up. Then he added the cooked pasta with a slotted spoon directly from the boiling water. He had seen a cook on TV do it this way, and it was sure easier for him. He still wasn’t up to the task of carrying a pot of boiling water across the room to drain it in the sink.
David had never minded cooking when he lived on his own. Now he enjoyed it even more. He wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe because he felt in control when he cooked. He was calling the shots—more salt, a little garlic, a dash of ground pepper? Sliced or diced? Pasta or rice? He was the one to decide. He liked that feeling and liked ending up with something to show for his efforts. Most of the time nowadays, he felt out of control and acted upon, just taking up space and not being very productive.
When he cooked, he forgot about his bad leg, his worries about the future, and even the haunting images of his recent past. It was just him—and a chicken cutlet sautéing in a pan. And that was a good thing, like a minivacation. He was even starting to wonder if this was something he could make a career out of. Maybe it was nothing like being a police officer or a firefighter, but it might not be so bad. . . .
Christine came into the kitchen followed by Kate, who looked fresh as a flower after her Little Mermaid bubble bath, dressed in her flannel pajamas.
“What’s for supper?” Christine walked up to the stove and watched him add the finishing touches, some chopped parsley and grated cheese.
“Pasta with chicken and sautéed vegetables,” David announced. He managed to keep his voice smooth and even, though her nearness had him all jittery inside again.
“It smells good, David,” Katie said.
“You smell good, too.” He dipped close to her head. “You smell like . . . a mermaid.”
Kate laughed, looking surprised. Christine laughed, too. “We used half a bottle of bubbles. I’d be surprised if she didn’t smell like a mermaid by now.”