Christmas Ivy

by DuCharme, Judy;

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Preview

  CHRISTMAS IVY

  Judy DuCharme

  Copyright 2016 Judy DuCharme

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Cover Art by Joan Alley

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Published by Prism Book Group

  First Edition, 2016

  Published in the United States of America

  Contact info: contact@prismbookgroup.com

  http://www.prismbookgroup.com

  CHRISTMAS IVY

  The sizzle of bacon cooking brought Ivy to an upright position out of sound sleep. The smoky flavor tantalized her nostrils as the fog in her mind slowly lifted. Her hands flew to her face. It’s Christmas! The words rose within her, not with joy, but with panic. How could she have slept so late!? Mama will have my head. I should be making breakfast. But wait. It’s Christmas! Mama must have let me sleep. A wonderful gift, to sleep past dawn. Ivy heard a gentle snoring and looked to see the cat curled next to her legs.

  “Silly girl.” Ivy reached down and ran her fingers through Tilly’s long fur. “You should have wakened me. How can you still be sleeping?” Ruffling the fur of the gentle calico had no effect. The cat did not stir. Ivy listened for her younger brother and sisters. Panic began to rise within her again. Every muscle tightened. She heard nothing. They must all be downstairs eating breakast.

  She forced her legs to swing away from the warmth of bed and cat and put her feet onto the cold hardwood floor. Why hadn’t she asked for a rug for Christmas? Maybe someday. Things would be better one day. Forgive me, God. I’m so selfish. And now I’ve overslept.

  Ivy tiptoed over to the twins’ bed to confirm that she alone was foolish enough to sleep in on Christmas morning. Sure enough, the quilt was piled up. In the dim light, she gently fingered the stitching and pattern that her grandmother had so lovingly designed and woven into the covering. Ivy so wished it was hers, but the twins, Jenny and Jessica, needed it because they needed the bigger bed. Ivy often longed to crawl in with them just so she could feel Grandma’s love held within the quilt’s craftsmanship. Grandma was about to make Ivy a quilt for her smaller bed when she had taken ill and passed away.

  Tears welled up in her eyes. Grandma’s death ushered in her family’s hard times. Such an emptiness engulfed her the day Grandma died. That tiny woman personified strength to Ivy. No matter what, calm wisdom exuded from her. A better friend, Ivy knew she would never find. The following year when Grandpa died, Ivy lost a part of herself. Mama assured her he died of a broken heart, missing his dear wife. Ivy wondered if she could recover from her own broken heart. The family barely had time to grieve, for then Papa’s store burned to the ground. Gone. Everything gone. Since then, life was survival, just making ends meet. Ivy again squelched the constant question of ‘Why, God?’ Apparently, God had no plans to answer.

  Ivy pressed the back of her hands to her eyes to stop the flow of tears when she saw the quilt move. The twins were still in bed. Maybe it wasn’t so late. She shook Jessica’s shoulder. A slight moan escaped from under the quilt, and a spray of blonde hair followed it. The little form shifted and went still. Ivy shook her again. “It’s Christmas,” she whispered as loudly as she could. Nothing. No response. Jessica and Jenny slept on. Ivy’s mind drifted back to the family’s losses. Her sisters were young when it all started, only seven. They weathered the storm better than Ivy. Mama said being a teenager made everything tougher.

  Ivy’s feet were freezing. Where are my slippers? The lamp wobbled as she bumped the little stand while locating her cozy footwear. Tilly stretched on her bed and purred but moved no further. The girls slept on. Ivy raised her eyebrows. This is strange, but I’d better get downstairs before Mama has my head, even if it is Christmas. Strong and wonderful and fun. That was Mama, just like her parents, Grandma and Grandad. Since the fire, though, Mama seemed tired and even a little cranky. Probably because Papa was gone so much, having to work in another city. At least he managed to return home for Christmas.

  Ivy shuffled past her brother’s room. The door was ajar. She knew James would not be asleep. He grumbled about chores, but he knew better than to not be up and doing them. Ivy pushed the door open slowly, hoping it would not creak like it always did. No matter what, that door was the noisiest door in the house. Mama always said it was fitting that it belonged to James. He couldn’t sneak out or sneak in without someone knowing it. God would find you out one way or another was also one of Mama’s sayings. Ivy chuckled. The door swung open without a sound. Ivy stared at the door for a few moments. Maybe Papa gave him an early Christmas gift...a bit of oil to stop the door from creaking. Maybe they did trust him. Ivy chuckled again.

  She did not have to inspect the bed to see if James was up. He was not. One leg and one arm dangled off the side, almost touching the floor. His unruly hair was unruly still and his head like a mop. Ivy giggled as she imagined turning him upside down and cleaning the floor with his independently curly locks. James kept life happy in the Rushton family. Mama called it incorrigible at times. Still, Ivy knew Mama appreciated his light heartedness. Besides, he worked so hard to help out now that Dad was gone so much. When all the tragedy descended upon the family, James, just two years younger than she, determined to keep the family on track. He led prayer at the table when everyone else just sat in a daze. He even tried to get everyone to sing which usually ended in a laughing fit, as singing voices were nowhere to be found in this family. James never lost his faith. Only me, Lord. I’m the one who is still a mess.

  She called him as she went over and pulled on his arm. He simply retrieved his dangling limbs, tucking them under his blanket, and began to snore. Ivy shook her head and went out, wondering why even the door didn’t wake someone.

  Ivy stopped at the top of the stairs. They were truly the most beautiful part of the house. The rich wood was smooth and deep brown. The shine was almost a glow as the steps curved slightly in their slope to the lower level. She never tired of running her hand down the banister, graced with lovely engraving on the bottom edge that flowed seamlessly into the spindles. Prettier than a grand piano, Grandma continually said. Grandma’s father had built it, and it made Ivy feel elegant whenever she walked down the stairs.

  Ivy envisioned the wedding day of Grandma and Grandad. So many stories her family loved to tell, but this was Grandma’s favorite. Grandma’s mother spent six months creating the loveliest gown anyone there had ever seen. The embroidery was exquisite, supposedly even finer than Grandma’s embroidery on the twin’s quilt. She actually wrote with needle and thread, in what appeared fine scrolling, the names of the family tree on the skirt of the gown. The bodice was intricate lace, a slightly off-white. Under the lace was shiny white satin. Three quarter sleeves with buttons from the elbow to the end of the sleeve. Ivy’s love of handwork and designer craftsmanship grew from Grandma’s descriptions and her marvelous work. She dreamed of going to college to be a fashion designer. But that was unlikely now. The fire destroyed that dream.

  Ivy stepped down the stairs, imagining Grandma in that dress
with handsome Grandad waiting at the base, his face full of joy. What promise filled this house. Oh, how Ivy wished such happiness could fill this house again.

  Even though the smells of breakfast permeated the house, Ivy could detect the fine scent of evergreen. That was one thing Mama was lavish about. The family cut a big fresh tree every year and decorated it with ornaments that each held a story. Decorating the tree provided the best part of Christmas. Once the tree was up, Mama gently picked up an ornament and held it carefully in her hand. After beholding it a few moments, she would say, “I remember when . . .” and launched into a story that everyone heard a dozen times but couldn’t wait to hear again. I should write the stories down. We need to always remember them. Perhaps I’ll start with Grandma’s wedding. If Mama didn’t tell the story, then Grandad or Grandma did. Now that they were gone, Ivy and James told some of the stories. Soon, the twins would be telling them too. Tears were shed more often during the decorating the past three years, but no one wanted to miss one story.

  Ivy tugged her robe a little tighter around her thin body. Maybe a new robe would be under the tree. This one was getting worn and just a little small. She brushed her long dark wavy hair back behind her shoulders. Thank God it wasn’t as curly as her brother’s hair. Just enough wave to make it easy to manage. Mama said it was Grandma’s hair, and that always pleased Ivy. Grandma’s beautiful hair was what first caught Grandad’s attention. He and Grandma were in college. She sat by the river on a bench studying. Grandad strolled along on his way to class. He saw her there and stood transfixed as the breeze brushed her hair across her face. Each time she swept the strands out of her eyes, he fell more deeply in love. He sat down next to her and the rest was history.

  As she stepped into the kitchen, Ivy stopped. A light shone around her mother as she worked at the stove, but it wasn’t the daylight that peaked through the windows at this early hour. Nor was it the glow from a lamp or a candle. A tickle ran up her spine. She opened her mouth to ask Mama what it was, but the words froze on her tongue.

  It wasn’t Mama who turned to smile at her. There stood Grandma, dear precious Grandma! Ivy stared. Her hair was peppered gray but still full and long, pulled back in a bun. She wore her apron that always hung on the nail next to the stove. The small flower print was such a part of Grandma’s life that Ivy often put on the apron when she helped Mama, just to feel close to her grandmother. Mama could never bring herself to wear it.

  Grandma held out her arms and Ivy squealed and ran into her embrace. “Oh, Grandma, Grandma, how did you get back? It’s so good to see you. Oh, it’s the best Christmas ever!”

  Grandma held Ivy out at arm’s length and smiled. “Oh, Ivy, Ivy, how you’ve grown into a beautiful young lady! I’m so blessed to see you. Look at our girl, Granddad.”

  “Whaaat!?” Ivy felt she could not breathe. She simply thought her father sat at the table. When Papa was home, he always sat at the table with the newspaper propped in front of his face. But it was Granddad who laid down the paper and smiled at her. He wore that old brown button-down sweater that Grandma always tried to get him to throw away. He never did. Ivy ran over, sat right on his knee, and threw her arms around his neck. He kissed her forehead like he always did and Ivy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  “Do Mama and Papa know you’re here?” Ivy looked from one to the other. She pinched herself. Am I dreaming?

  “No, Ivy, they’re still sleeping.” Grandma’s voice was calm. Ivy tried to settle the excitement that shook her to the core. She wanted to get up and dance but attempted to fuel her energy into comprehending how her grandparents had returned from the dead.

  “But it’s Christmas morning. Why is no one awake? Even the cat won’t get up.”

  “This is your time, Ivy, your Christmas gift.” Grandad’s voice was strong. It wrapped around her as strongly as his arms often did.

  “Oh, but I want them to see you, too.” How could she keep this delightful event to herself? Such magnificence begged to be shared. Maybe she was dreaming. If so, she did not want to wake up. This was so exciting.

  “Yes, yes, we know. Now get in your own seat.” Granddad gave her a gentle push. “Breakfast is ready. Let’s catch up.”

  Grandma placed bacon, scrambled eggs, and a pile of toast in the middle of the table. It looked like a picture out of a magazine with the red gingham tablecloth Mama always used at Christmas time. Ivy tried to take a picture in her mind. Grandad and Grandma at the kitchen table once more. Real or not, it was truly a gift to her heart.

  “Ivy, remember the quilt I made for the twins?” Grandma sat down across from Ivy and poured her a glass of juice.

  “Oh, Grandma, I do, and I’m still so disappointed that you couldn’t make mine.” Ivy pictured the fine stitching on her sisters’ quilt.

  “We understand, but now you must work on it.”

  Ivy picked the bacon up with her fingers and broke it gently in two. She loved crisp bacon. Mama never made it very crisp and fully expected everyone to use their fork when eating it. Ivy glanced around to make sure Mama wasn’t watching. Granddad broke into a full laugh. “Ivy, Ivy.”

  “The quilt,” Grandma reminded her. Grandma was so wonderful, but like Mama, she wanted everyone to march to her orders. It was probably why their store had been such a success. Grandma kept the inventory and did the ordering...in more ways than one. She ordered the supplies and she ordered the employees. Everyone gave Grandad the credit for the store’s success. He accepted their praise but knew the truth. And Grandma was just fine with that. They rarely squabbled and they laughed a lot. James inherited that laughter gene and was the only one who exhibited it after the family’s great losses. How Ivy wished she could walk in that positive spirit.

  “Yes, I most certainly remember the twins’ quilt.” Ivy tried to keep the wistfulness out of her voice. “And, Grandma, it is absolutely the most beautiful quilt ever made.” Ivy reached across the table to take Grandma’s hand. “The embroidery is exquisite, and the materials are magnificent to touch.” Picking up her glass with the other hand, she gulped down the orange juice like she was a little girl. She pursed her lips, looking first at Grandma, then Granddad, then held the napkin to her mouth. “I’ve forgotten my manners. Forgive me. It’s just so amazing to have you here.”

  Ivy wondered if she should pinch herself again. Grandma and Grandad are gone...in heaven. But here they sit. Ivy pushed the thoughts away and gazed at her grandparents. They looked the same as the last time she sat here with them for Christmas breakfast. It was the year she gave the twins the quilt. The store had not burned. Grandma and Grandad seemed in good health. Dad still co-managed the store. Life held so much promise. It was the following autumn that Grandma died.

  “Ivy, you know I planned a quilt for you.” Grandma smiled. Unlike Ivy, she never lost her train of thought.

  “Oh, Grandma, it’s okay. The twins let me enjoy theirs. I know it was planned, but God…”

  “Wanted you to have one, too.” Grandma looked into Ivy’s eyes for a moment. “You have to finish it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I already made you a quilt.”

  “But…” Ivy held a piece of egg on the fork. She just stared at Grandma. What could she possibly mean?

  “It’s done, except for the backing. There is a backing on it, but I couldn’t find the material I wanted before I took ill.” Grandma’s steel blue eyes held Ivy’s. Love poured out of those eyes. It comforted Ivy, and how she missed that comfort. “So I just used a nice muslin piece I found to finish, planning to redo the backing once I found the perfect material. I did not want anyone to know I’d made it, especially you.” Grandma reached over and tapped the tip of Ivy’s nose and chuckled. “It was long before Christmas, so I hid it.”

  Ivy’s eyes got big. “You hid it here?” Then she closed her eyes. “Oh, Grandma, you hid it in the store.” Tears trickled down her cheek. “Did you know the store burned?”

  Grandad reached
out and took Grandma’s hand in his. Ivy so loved their love for each other. Despite the occasional disagreement, there was always laughter and love in their eyes when they looked at each other. They said they knew God brought them together and would not fail to work things out. Once, the store was robbed of a whole week’s earnings. Grandma and Grandad got on their knees and held hands and asked God to help the thief and to help them. They just went on, working, praying, forgiving. Two weeks later, a man confessed to the robbery and returned half the money. He’d spent the other half on his daughter’s hospital bill. He’d lost his job and was desperate. After the man served five days in jail, Grandad hired him. The man paid back all he’d stolen and became a faithful employee.

  Grandma patted Ivy’s hand. “Yes, we know the store burned, and no, I did not hide it in the store. It’s here in the house. It is your Christmas gift, Ivy, so I will tell you where it is.”

  Here in the house? Chills ran up and down Ivy’s spine once more, and she held her breath.

  “Breathe, child.” Granddad wrapped his hand around hers. “We want to talk about you, first.”

  Ivy gulped. “Am I in trouble?”

  “No, child, but you’re not a child anymore.”

  Sighing, Ivy nodded her head.

  “Your Mom and Dad are okay, but they need you to help them be strong. The fire took a lot out of them. And you need to be the one encouraging them, rather than letting them try to build you up.” Granddad had that gentle but firm look on his face. His deep brown eyes bored into hers, but the smile on his face warmed her all over. The crinkles his smile made ran like little rivers all over his face. His once dark hair was grey now, and even though short, everyone knew that James got his curly locks from Granddad.

  “It’s so sad around here since the fire. Life used to be so much fun, and now, it just seems hard.”

  Grandma nodded, but her eyes twinkled. Ivy knew she was holding in a smile. Grandma always had a way of making things tolerable. “Well, Ivy, growing up sometimes feels that way, but you need to step up and make life happy again.”