One Imperfect Christmas (17 page)

“Somebody had to do something.” Frustration tore at Lissa's heart. She pried her mother's hands away and crossed her arms. Almost under her breath, she added, “Grandma's got to get better by Christmas.”

Mom closed her eyes, and Lissa let her thoughts carry her back to that morning. She had arrived at the convalescent center just after six-thirty. She slipped down the deserted corridor and closed the door softly behind her before tiptoeing across the shiny tile floor of her grandmother's room. Grandma appeared to be sleeping, but a soft moaning escaped her balm-moistened lips. Her head rocked gently as if she were dreaming.

“Grandma? Hi, it's me, Lissa.” Leaning against the side of the bed, she lightly touched her grandmother's wrinkled hand.

Cloudy eyes flickered open, glanced unseeing for a moment, and then settled on Lissa's face. Something oddly like a smile crooked one corner of Grandma's mouth, and Lissa felt sure that Grandma recognized her.

“Naaaa,” her grandmother moaned. Sometimes it seemed like the only sound she could make.

“Lissss-sssa,” she enunciated. “Grandma, it's Lisss-sssa. Just try to say it. I know you can.”

The lines in Grandma's forehead deepened. “Llllll.”

A thrill of hope ignited in Lissa's chest and spread its warm rays down her limbs. “That's right, Grandma, it's Lissa. Hey, I brought you a present.” She unzipped her backpack and laid a flat, rectangular package on her grandmother's lap. “Here, let me help you open it.”

Grandma's eyes lit up with joy, Lissa felt certain of it. The good hand came around and clutched at the red bow, yanking at it clumsily.

“Good job, Grandma.” She loosened a corner of the paper and guided her grandmother's hand to peel it away. She removed the lid from the box and lifted out a sketchbook and an oblong watercolor set in a bronze-colored tin.

“Nnnnaaaa, nnnnaaaaa.” Grandma's hands jerked in excited spasms. “Painnnnn.”

Lissa's heart soared. “That's right, Grandma, I brought this so you can paint!”

Never once in all the many times she'd visited her grandmother at the nursing home had Lissa seen her so animated. Maybe the drooling, one-sided grimace wouldn't look like a smile to anyone else, but Lissa believed with all her being that Grandma had never been happier or more alive since the day of her stroke.
Oh, thank you, God, thank you!

A commotion in the corridor snapped Lissa's head around. Every nerve went on high alert. If she didn't leave now, one of the attendants delivering breakfast trays would catch her and report her to Mrs. Blaylock.

“I have to get to school, Grandma, but I'll come this weekend and help you paint something, okay?” She kissed her grandmother on the cheek, edged to the door, and eased it open a crack to peer out. As soon as the two attendants disappeared into another patient's room down the hall, she scurried along a side corridor, through the laundry facility, and out a rear exit, where her high-school friend waited for her in the alley.

Her mission had been a success, which made her want to kick herself for not thinking of it sooner. Why hadn't someone else in the family realized a long time ago that all Grandma needed was to be reminded how to paint again? Mom, of all people, should have thought of it, considering every other crazy therapy she'd made the doctors try. Even if Grandma only recovered a tiny bit by Christmas, it might be enough.

Lissa could only hope the rest of her plans went as smoothly.

Natalie's heart throbbed against her breastbone as she stared through the windshield. With the engine turned off, the December chill quickly permeated the car. She shivered as much from her spinning thoughts as from the cold.

Christmas.

She didn't need Lissa to remind her it was her mother's favorite season of the year. “
You were supposed to be born on Christmas Day, but you came a little early,”
Mom had told her many times. It was the very reason they'd chosen her name. “
'Natalie' means 'the birthday of Christ,' and Christ has been called the 'Rose of Sharon.' So, my darling, you've always been our little Christmas Rose.”

Natalie slowly turned to face her daughter and fought to repress the quiver in her voice. “Sweetheart, you know what the doctors say. How many times have they told us Grandma isn't going to get better?”
Because of me!

And then that other emotion surfaced, the one Dr. Sirpless made her realize she'd been resisting all these months. She shuddered and stuffed down her anger. It took several deep breaths before she could continue. “Even if Grandma did show some signs of recognition, you mustn't get your hopes up. It might be nothing.”

Despite her momentary resurgence of hope after talking to Mrs. Blaylock, as the day wore on and reality set in, she had forced herself back to a state of pragmatism. Now, Lissa must do the same.

Her daughter turned a tear-streaked face toward her. “I don't care what the doctors say,” she blurted. “Grandma always told me she promised Granddad they'd have fifty perfect Christmases together. And this is—”

Natalie gasped, her heart sinking. “And this will be the fiftieth Christmas.”

How could she have forgotten something so important? Or maybe she hadn't forgotten, just buried it because she couldn't bear the memory. Christmas Eve would be her parents' wedding anniversary, making the next day their fiftieth Christmas as husband and wife. If remembering was hard for her, she could only imagine what a sorrowful, pain-filled Christmas this would be for her father. No wonder he had been trying so hard to keep all those precious family traditions alive.

“So don't you see, Mom? Grandma
has
to get better.” Lissa's face contorted. Her voice took on a desperate tone. “She has to paint the star on the manger scene backdrop, the fiftieth little star in the sky over Bethlehem, one for every Christmas she and Granddad have been married. If she doesn't, the promise will be broken, and … and … ” She collapsed into heaving sobs.

In the deepest part of her soul, Natalie understood what her daughter was trying to tell her. If this promise were not kept, this special promise between two people so deeply in love for so many happy years, then nothing was sacred. No vow could be trusted.

As she looked into her daughter's eyes, she realized the promise had as much to do with Natalie and Daniel's future as it did with Lissa's grandmother getting well. How could their marriage vows not mean anything anymore? Didn't they mean
everything
sixteen years ago when she and Daniel pledged their love at the altar? She recalled with convicting clarity the words from Scripture the pastor had read: “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh… . So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate.”

Oh, Daniel, I'm so sorry! I've ruined everything, and I don't know how to fix it.

With effort, she finally managed to speak over the lump in her throat. “Honey, I wish with all my heart that things were different. But so much has happened—so much that can't be undone.”

Her daughter's voice became harsh. “Just tell me, Mom, are you going to do anything to help Grandma or not?”

Tears coursed down Natalie's cheeks. She shrugged helplessly and drew a resistant Lissa into her embrace. Stroking her daughter's silky hair, she said, “We've done everything possible, Liss. There's nothing else we can do for Grandma. Please try to accept it.” She sniffed and searched for some way to bring peace to her tortured little girl and to her own anguished heart.

They held each other for several long minutes before Lissa pulled away and dried her eyes with her coat sleeve. “I need to go home, Mom. I have tons of homework this weekend.”

The rebuff stung. Frantic to keep her daughter close for even a moment longer, Natalie thrashed about in her mind for ideas. Something.
Anything.
A fragment of memory from the night of her birthday rose to the surface, and she latched onto it. “Hey, sweetie, I was telling Granddad the other day that you and I haven't gone riding in a while. If you finish your homework tomorrow, we could go out to the farm on Sunday afternoon. You could ride Windy. She misses you, and I know Granddad would enjoy having us visit.”

Lissa shrugged. “I may not finish my homework by then.”

“Maybe we could do something fun this afternoon. We could stop by that cute boutique you like so much. Would you like a new sweater for the holidays?”

“Can you just take me home now, please?”

The stiff reply dashed the last remnant of Natalie's hopes. She refastened her seatbelt and started the engine.

An hour later, still wrapped in disappointment, Natalie parked her car in the employee parking lot behind the print shop. As she shut off the engine, she saw Jeff Garner hoisting boxes into the delivery van and scowling in her direction.

Now what?
Why hadn't she followed her instincts? After dropping Lissa at Daniel's apartment, she'd seriously toyed with the idea of taking the rest of the day off. Only the knowledge that she had mounds of projects still waiting convinced her to shrug off the dejection and fall back upon the only thing that had kept her sane this past year—work.

“I thought we were in this together, Natalie.” Jeff grunted as he lifted another box. His warm breath puffed small clouds into the crisp winter air. “I can't be responsible for both sides of this partnership. Clients have been phoning you all afternoon.”

“Sorry, I had a situation with Lissa.”

“So I heard. Glad she's okay.” His tone was icy.

Overwhelmed with guilt at disappointing another person, she lowered her gaze and edged toward the door. “Don't worry. I can stay as late as I need to.”

“Good thing.” His voice resonated with annoyance. “Because I've got family too. I'm afraid you're on your own with this one.”

Natalie's heart plummeted. “What do you mean, 'this one'?” Hard work and late hours she could handle. But after spending most of the day stewing over Lissa's little adventure, she was in no frame of mind to deal with another disaster like Mr. Craunauer's.

“Take a look at the box inside the door. It isn't going anywhere today.” Jeff slammed the rear door of the van and yelled for Alan, the driver.

The young Tom Cruise look-alike strode across the parking lot, clipboard in one hand, aviator sunglasses in the other. Natalie almost stumbled as he brushed by her and bumped her arm. Why couldn't Jeff direct his displeasure at Alan just once? How many speeding tickets had the pompous creep racked up, screeching across town in the delivery van like he was piloting a fighter jet?

As Jeff gave Alan last-minute instructions, Natalie stepped inside the building. For long minutes she stared at the box. In black marker across the top she read MOONBEAMS BOOKSTORE HOLIDAY PROMO. And over those words, Jeff's bold scrawl in red: CUSTOMER COMPLAINT—REDO!