The Gift of Christmas Present (19 page)

He just shook his head and slowly exhaled. “She'll get over it.”

“Now, I feel absolutely terrible to have brought this sad news with me,” Hattie said. “It wasn't my intention at all, but when I learned about Christine being Lenore's daughter, well, I just thought it was the right thing to do.” She frowned. “Unfortunately, I hadn't really thought about it being Christmas and all. It does seem like bad timing on my part. I hope Felicity can forgive me.”

“You were right to tell us this, Hattie,” Esther said. “Christmas or not, this wasn't a secret to keep hidden.”

Jimmy was still shaking his head, but now tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I just can't—can't believe
that my dad would do something—something so—so horrible like that.”

Esther nodded and then reached for his hand. “I know how you feel, Jimmy. This afternoon I was a complete crazy woman. Why, you should've seen me. I was breaking things and throwing things and—”

“Really?” Jimmy studied his stepmother more closely.

“It's true,” Hattie said. “I only just finished cleaning it up, but the wreckage she left behind was something to behold.”

“I feel like I'd like to break something too,” Jimmy said in a flat voice.

“Be my guest,” Esther said calmly. “Anything in here you'd like to take your hand to? Or maybe there's something left in the den that wasn't broken.”

He sighed and looked down at his plate, one of the blue willow plates from her side of the family. Esther braced herself, afraid he was going to pick it up and throw it. And from where he was sitting and with his kind of arm, he could probably take out one of the French doors across from them. She prepared herself for a loud crash.

But he didn't throw it. “I know I have to forgive him,” he finally said. “But at the moment, I just don't feel much like it. If he were here right now, I'd probably really let him have it. I feel like everything I ever believed about him has suddenly become a big, fat, ugly lie.”

“If it helps,” Hattie said in a gentle voice, “James was extremely sorry for what happened. Esther has all the letters he wrote to me during that time, shortly before he died . . . He confessed to everything in those letters, and he was very remorseful. Maybe you should read them
too, Jimmy. It might help you understand better. Do you mind, Esther?”

“Not at all. I think it's a good idea. They're probably still on his desk.”

Hattie left to go get them, and Jimmy leaned back in his chair. “I feel like somebody just knocked the wind out of me, Mom. Like I can't quite catch my breath.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

“Does Christine know about this yet?”

“Hattie told her.”

“How did she take it?”

“She was understandably upset.”

“Maybe that's why she left the house early today. Felicity was complaining about that tonight. She thought Christine was just being flaky.”

“
Flaky
is not a word I would use to describe your half sister.”

Jimmy's eyes opened wide. “You're absolutely right, Mom. Wow, I hadn't even thought of it like that. This
would
make her my half sister.” He almost smiled. “Well, that's pretty cool.”

Esther felt a small wave of relief.

“What's pretty cool?” Felicity snapped as she stepped back into the room, her eyes still red and swollen from crying.

“Christine is my half sister,” Jimmy said with genuine enthusiasm. “I knew there was something familiar about that girl. She felt like family to me.” Now he was grinning. “That means she's Jamie and Casey's aunt. Man, that's so cool.”

“Oh, Jimmy!” Felicity sank back into her chair, folded
her arms across her chest, and scowled at him. “How do we even know this is true? I mean, Christine waltzes in here out of nowhere, and then she starts making all these claims and painting your dad out to be some sort of pervert who raped—”

“Felicity!” Esther felt her nostrils flare in anger, an unattractive habit she normally tried to avoid. “That is enough!” she said in her sternest voice. “You obviously don't have your facts straight about any of this.”

“That's right, Felice,” Jimmy said more gently. “Aunt Hattie has letters from Dad, confessing the whole thing to her.”

“And here they are.” Aunt Hattie set the bundle in front of Jimmy.

“Are you sure they're authentic?” Felicity asked in a small voice.

“Of course,” Hattie said, slightly affronted. “Do you think I'd make something like this up about my own beloved brother? It was hard enough for me to know about this personally. Can you imagine how I struggled before I decided to tell the rest of you?”

“But the good news is that this makes Christine my half sister,” Jimmy said. “And she's your niece, Aunt Hattie.”

Hattie smiled. “Yes, I know. I'm so pleased.”

“And my granddaughter,” Esther said. “That is, if she hasn't given up on the bunch of us for jerking her around like this. Poor girl. She probably thinks she's suddenly landed in the loony family.”

“Well, hopefully, we can make it up to her tomorrow,” Hattie said.

“This will be her first Christmas with us,” Jimmy said. “Our family is growing.”

“So are we still on for the party?” Felicity asked in a tired voice. “Not that I really care so much anymore. Fact is, I wish I'd never agreed to this party in the first place. At the rate we're going, the whole thing will probably be a total disaster anyway.”

“It's going to be okay, Felice,” Jimmy reassured her.

“Yeah, right.” She looked unconvinced. “Well, maybe we can stand around the Christmas tree and announce that the late great James Daniels was really a fraud who raped his stepdaughter.”

“Felicity!” Jimmy's eyes narrowed, and Esther suspected that his wife had pushed it too far even for him this time. “That's totally uncalled for.”

“Well, you people are so into making the truth known. Maybe everyone in town should know about this nasty little business. Maybe we should take out an ad—”

“Knock it off!” Jimmy stood. “I think we should go now. I'm sorry, Mom, Aunt Hattie. Felicity spoke way out of line just now.”

“Don't apologize for me.” Felicity stood up and reached for her coat slung over the back of her chair. “I'm not a child, you know.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

She looked at Jimmy as if he'd slapped her, and then she hurried from the room.

“Thanks for dinner,” Jimmy said briskly. He jerked his arms into his jacket and shook his head. “Hopefully, Felicity and I can get this smoothed over before we ruin the holidays completely.”

“Hopefully,” Esther said without getting up.

“Good-night,” Hattie said, ever cheerful. “Drive safely on the snow.”

Esther exhaled loudly after the front door closed. “Well.”

“Now, that didn't go too badly,” Hattie said with a funny little grin.

Esther looked at her sister-in-law in wonder, and then they both laughed.

“I just hope Christine is all right,” Esther said as she refolded her napkin and set it beside the plate.

“Well, I know I'll be saying a special prayer for that sweet little girl tonight.”

Esther felt her brows lift slightly. “Really, Hattie? You've actually become a praying woman?”

She smiled. “Indeed, I have.”

“Does this mean you believe in God and go to church and do all those churchy things that churchy people do?”

“I do believe in God, Esther, and I do go to church when I have a notion to. And I do pray and even read my Bible on occasion. But I wouldn't necessarily classify myself as a churchy person. I suppose it truly is hard to teach an old dog new tricks.”

“So what on earth brought all this on?” Esther knew her voice sounded skeptical, perhaps even harsh, but she couldn't help herself. “I remember when you and Hal used to carouse and drink and gamble in Vegas with the best of them.”

Hattie winked at her. “I figured at my age it was best to cover all my bets regarding the hereafter. I decided if God
really was up there, and if he really did care about old Hattie, well, I thought it might be wise for old Hattie to give him a fair shot. And you know what, I think he does.”

Esther considered this. “Very interesting, Hattie.”

“You should give it some thought yourself, Esther. No offense, but you aren't getting any younger either.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Hattie's lips pressed together, and she grew quiet as if she were contemplating something. “There's another thing, Esther.”

“Oh, no . . . ” Esther held up her hands. “If it's more bad news about James, well, you better just sit on it for the time being. I'm not sure if I can handle anything else—”

“No, no, nothing like that. It's not anything bad. But you're right, it is about James. It's something he said to me on the phone about a week or so before he passed away.”

Esther took in a quick breath, braced herself, and waited for Hattie to continue.

“At the time I wasn't too sure what to think. To be honest, I was still quite irked with him. Oh, I'd forgiven him all right, how could I not? But I secretly resented that he'd dumped this whole nasty business into my lap. It reminded me of when we were kids and he'd do something wrong and old Hattie would take the blame. But that evening when he called me, he told me that he'd made his peace with God. Now, I wasn't too sure what he meant by that. At that time in my life, I hadn't given God a second thought. But all these years later, I like to believe he meant that he'd received God's forgiveness. Although this is partial speculation on my part. But those were his words. He said,
‘Don't worry about me, Hattie. I've made my peace with God.' And not long after that he died.”

“Oh.” Esther looked at the messy table before them and sighed. “Let's just leave this until tomorrow. I'm completely exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“You and me both, Esther.”

Esther imagined how the two of them must look as they slowly made their way through the semidarkened house. She, old and angular and clumsier than usual as she fumbled along on her crutches, and Hattie, short and round, taking her quick little steps alongside her. What a pair they made.

When Esther finally got herself into bed, she felt completely drained, but as she closed her eyes she thought of Christine and suddenly remembered what Hattie had said about praying for her tonight. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot herself. At least she could do it for her granddaughter's sake, since she seemed to take this God thing pretty seriously.

“Well, God . . . ,” she began slowly, “I know we're not really on much of a first name basis quite yet . . . I'm not even sure we'll ever be. But if you're up there listening, will you please watch out for my dear granddaughter tonight? Take care of her and bring her back to us safe and sound for Christmas. I'd really appreciate that. Amen.”

Without bothering to remove her snow-dusted parka, Christine went straight for the phone in her dorm room. Her hands felt shaky as she attempted to dial the correct digits for the long-distance number to the mission station. Thankfully, she got it right the first time. She sighed in relief when a woman with an accent confirmed this on the other end. But when she asked for her father, she felt her heart drop to her snow-encrusted boots.

“I'm sorry,” the woman said, “but Mr. Bradley has gone to spend the holidays with the Richards family. Their station is in the jungle, but we can reach your father by radio if it's an emergency.”

“No, no . . .” Christine sighed. “It's not an emergency.”

“Did you call to wish him a Merry Christmas?”

“Yes,” Christine said sadly. “I'm sure he's having a wonderful time.”

“Oh yes,” the woman said. “Your father is a sweet man.
He was taking a lot of goodies out to share with the villagers. He's like a regular Saint Nick.”

Despite herself, Christine smiled. “Yes, he is.”

“God bless you,” the woman said.

Christine hung up the phone and tried to imagine what it would be like to be down in Brazil, where summer was in full bloom right now. As much as she'd looked forward to a white Christmas, she would trade it in a heartbeat just to be down there in the heat and humidity with her dad.

“A regular Saint Nick,” she said to herself. And even though it was the middle of the afternoon, she flopped down on her bed in total defeat. “So what would
you
do, Dad, if you were in my shoes right now?” The tears she'd been holding back began to fall freely. Not only for herself, although, to be honest, she was desperately homesick and lonely, more than she had ever been in her life. But mostly she felt sad for her mother—rather, her birth mother—Lenore. To think what that poor girl, a year younger than Christine, had endured during the last year of her life. So unfair and unjust. Christine could hardly even imagine it. It was so wrong!