A Wish for Christmas (22 page)

Christine quickly set the table, giving Kate the task of folding some paper napkins. “Should I set a place for Julie and Jack?” she asked. “Maybe I should go out and help while one of them comes up here?”

“Right. I’ll call down there and see,” David said, though he sure hoped they wouldn’t take Christine up on the offer.

David grabbed the kitchen phone and dialed his father’s cell phone. He knew Jack and Julie had been outside a long time and were probably hungry by now. But all the time he had been cooking he had been anticipating eating dinner alone with Christine. He knew it was part of her job, but he would hate it if Christine had to run out now to the tree stand.

The cell phone rang a few times. Finally, Jack picked up.

“I made some dinner. Do you guys want to come up and eat?”

“I can wait. Let me ask Julie.” David waited. Finally, his father came back on the line. “She says she’s okay for now, too. She’ll come up in a little while and tuck Kate in, then bring me down something. Can you just save it for us?”

“Sure, no problem.” David hung up, feeling suddenly lighthearted again. “He said they’re all right for now. Julie is going to come up in a while and put Kate in bed.”

“Okay, thanks.” Christine nodded. She seemed unsure of what to do next. “Can I help you with anything?”

He did hate that question. But it wasn’t so bad, coming from her, David decided. It was more the way she said it, like anybody could need a little help. It didn’t have to do with his leg or being in a walker.

“Why don’t you hand me the plates, and I’ll serve the food from here?” he told her.

Christine handed him the empty plates and then set them back on the table.

“Wow, this looks great. I didn’t know you could cook,” she said as she took a seat next to Kate.

“I didn’t either,” he admitted. “It’s just something I’ve gotten into lately, hanging around the house. Gives me something to do with myself while everyone’s out working.”

“It’s a big help for Julie,” Christine said. She tasted a bite, and he waited to see if she liked it. “Mmm. This is really good. I love the sauce.”

“It’s just some butter and cheese and stuff,” he tried to explain. “I googled ‘chicken cutlets’ and found the recipe on a cooking show website. How do you like it?” he asked his little sister.

Kate mimicked Christine’s response perfectly. “I like this googled chicken, David. It’s really good.”

David and Christine laughed at her. David felt more at ease. They talked easily with each other, as if they hadn’t spent years apart since high school.

But that’s the way Christine was, easy to get along with. To a fault. She probably should have been mad at him for the way he had left town and faded out of her life. But she wasn’t one to hold a grudge. That’s why he had thought he might still have a chance with her—if he’d come home in one piece.

Kate ate quickly and asked to be excused so she could watch one of her favorite TV shows. “I guess that would be all right,” Christine said, looking at the clock.

Kate grabbed Lester and happily ran off toward the family room. “She’s too cute,” Christine whispered, watching her go. “You always said you missed having siblings. I bet you didn’t expect to get one now.”

“No, I didn’t,” David admitted. Of course he’d known his father might marry again someday, but he had never given much thought to the consequences, one way or the other. He hadn’t been back in touch with his father until last Christmas.

“Kate is amazing. I really get a kick out of her,” David said.

“I can see that. She’s crazy about you, too.”

David felt pleased by her words. “Just goes to show, you never know what’s going to happen.”

“That true. You never know, do you?” As she gazed at him from across the table, David wondered what had put that thoughtful light in her blue eyes.

“So what does your boyfriend think of your new job?” he asked, then wondered what in the world had made him say that.

“My boyfriend? What does he have to do with it?” Christine looked confused and surprised by the question.

“Your fiancé, I mean,” David corrected himself. “Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of you working here, since I’m your old boyfriend?”

“Oh, that.” Christine looked down at the table. “He doesn’t care. I mean, he doesn’t mind.” She looked up at David and shrugged. “It’s only a week or two. I need the job. He understands.”

Christine rose and started clearing off the table.

David got the distinct feeling she hadn’t told her fiancé about the job. Or about him. Which sparked a tiny flicker of hope.

He swatted the feeling down. What was the difference if she told her boyfriend or not? She was still marrying the guy a few months from now. Nothing was going to change that.

The back door opened and Julie came in. Her cheeks were red from the cold, and she pulled off her gloves and rubbed her bare hands together. “It’s freezing out there. Loads of customers though,” she added cheerfully.

“We must have sold a hundred trees tonight.”

The conversation quickly turned to Kate. Christine gave Julie the update, and Julie headed for the family room.

“Guess I’d better head outside and help Jack awhile,” Christine said. “Thanks again for dinner. I’m sort of stove-challenged in the kitchen,” she admitted.

“If I can figure it out, anybody can,” he assured her.

“See you,” she called out from the back door.

“Right, see you.” He watched her go then stood staring at the closed door a moment.

He would see her, too. Every day until Christmas.

Think you can stand it?
he asked himself, realizing that this situation was not quite the hardship he had thought it would be.

Um . . . yeah,
he answered his own question.
I think so.

CHAPTER NINE

“
Y
OU DON’T HAVE TO STAY. THAT’S ALL RIGHT. I CAN MANAGE ON my own, Emily,” Lillian said.

Meanwhile, she gripped Emily’s arm for dear life as they walked up the driveway heading for the side door.

Right, Mother,
Emily wanted to reply.
You can’t even get into the house on your own. Do you really expect me to believe you can manage just fine once you’re in there?

But she didn’t say that, of course. And it was slippery. Flurries during the night had left a few inches of fresh snow on the ground, and Emily had to make the choice this morning to either shovel a path from her mother’s side door to the car, or risk walking in late to the church service. Which her mother hated more than risking a fall. So now there was no path and they struggled to get inside, without Lillian ending up in the snow.

Finally, they made it.

“I’m going to shovel a bit and then I’ll make lunch,” Emily said as they entered the house.

“I can make the lunch,” Lillian insisted. “Cold foods, nothing that requires turning on the stove,” she added with special emphasis.

Of course her mother had started using the stove again. Just not when either of her daughters was around, Emily knew.

“A sandwich would be fine. Anything you have on hand,” Emily said, holding on to her patience. She found an old wool scarf on a hook near the door and wrapped it around her neck before heading out again.

Emily quickly shoveled a wide path from the side door to the driveway, then another path from the sidewalk up to the porch. The cold dry air had a bite today, though the sky was perfectly clear, a brilliant blue. She really didn’t mind shoveling; she needed the exercise. But she did have a lot at home to do.

If only her mother would tolerate some help. Felicia had not lasted long. Her mother had fired her for some odd reason—mixing white clothes with colored items in the laundry?

It seemed an unlikely error for a trained home-care worker to make, Emily thought. More likely, it was one of her mother’s tricks to create a valid cause for banishment.

Like an unscrupulous detective, planting evidence.

Emily had not bothered to confront her mother about it. Yet. But her mother had to realize she was playing a dangerous game. Three strikes and she was going to be out of this house, if Emily had any say about it.

By the time Emily finished shoveling and came inside, the kitchen table was set for lunch. Her mother had made two sandwiches, each containing a single slice of yellow cheese and a wispy leaf of iceberg lettuce balanced within slices of toasted white bread.

Emily wasn’t sure why she found the sandwiches so amusing. Maybe it was the combination of obvious, painstaking care in assembly with extremely meager ingredients.

“You made lunch, how nice.” Emily said, sitting down.

“And some tea. It’s cold out there,” Lillian noted. “That man who spoke up in church today . . . that Mr. Healy. Isn’t he fortunate that his family won’t be doing without heat tonight?”

“Yes, he is, very fortunate. That was an amazingly generous gift someone gave him.”

Once again during “Joys and Concerns,” a member of the congregation reported that his family had received an anonymous gift. This time, a new furnace.

“He was so grateful,” Emily recalled, “he was practically in tears.”

Along with his heartfelt thanks, Howard Healy reported that he had been injured at his job in a warehouse several months ago and was still unable to return to work. His family was struggling to live on his disability benefits and the small paycheck his wife brought home from her job at a food store. When the furnace went, they really had nowhere to turn.

“I wonder who’s giving these amazing gifts to everyone.” Emily took a sip of her tea. It was weak as dishwater, just the way her mother liked it, but hot at least.

“Yes, I wonder. It must be someone with money to spare,” Lillian speculated. “That leaves out most people in that church.”

Emily glanced at her. “In that case, your name would be at the top of the list of possibilities.”

The observation was simple fact. Her mother was among the wealth iest church members. And Emily was curious to see what her mother would say to that.

Lillian sputtered a bit as she put her teacup down. She patted her mouth with a paper napkin. “Yes, I suppose some people might think I was the Yuletide Robin Hood. With some assistance, of course.”

“You would need some help to carry it off. But it’s not really like Robin Hood, Mother. Robin Hood
stole
from the rich to give to the poor.”

Lillian shrugged. “For all we know, the person giving these extravagant gifts might well be stealing the funds to do so. This situation seems so heartwarming from a distance, but we don’t really know what’s going on, do we? Who is doing this and why? And where are they getting the money? I will find it heartwarming when those questions are answered satisfactorily. It is most . . . peculiar. Most likely, the act of someone who is mentally unbalanced, I’d say.”

Emily was shocked into laughter. “Mother, do you really think that? Do you really think it’s a sign of mental illness to be generous to strangers? What about donating to charities for different causes? You sometimes make those kinds of donations, and very large ones, too, I’ve noticed.”

Her mother gave substantially to causes that moved her. A famine in Ethiopia. Or Hurricane Katrina relief. She was an avid news watcher, and these were often situations that came right into her living room.

“That’s different,” Lillian argued. “This is so . . . personal. It must be someone in our church who knows all these families. It strikes me as very inappropriate somehow.”

“I think it’s wonderful. It’s the real spirit of Christmas and a lesson for all of us,” Emily said quietly.

“Oh, balderdash. Now you sound as if you’re reading out of a greeting card,” Lillian scoffed. “Speaking of the spirit of Christmas, don’t you think it’s time to bring down my boxes from the attic? I want to do a little decorating around here.”

“I can bring them down for you,” Emily said. “But I need to go soon, and you can’t decorate by yourself. So what’s the sense? You’ll only be tempted.”

Lillian made a face and crossed her arms over her chest. “I knew you were going to say that.”

“You could have had your decorating finished by now if you hadn’t fired Felicia,” Emily pointed out.

“Felicia was not as capable as you think. I was the one who was here with her and subjected to her incompetence. If I had sent her up to the attic on Friday, she would still be up there, looking for the boxes.”

“Well, we’ll have to see if the person coming tomorrow can manage to find your decorations and find their way downstairs again,” Emily said dryly.

“The person coming tomorrow? Good grief—”

“You didn’t think that was going to be the end of it, did you?” Emily asked. “Her name is Nancy. She’s very experienced, older than Felicia. She used to be a nurse, so you can’t claim she lacks training.”

“Maybe so, but she must lack plain common sense if she gave up a good career like nursing for this sort of work.”