by Irene Brand
As Christmas approached, Violet couldn’t put out of her mind that her first date with Larry had been on Christmas Eve a year ago. Since she had told him about her mother, he had never shown any personal interest in her. She had received a card from him, but it was his practice to send one to each teacher on his staff. Although she displayed her other cards throughout the house, she dropped Larry’s in the trash can.
Violet thought that it might be cheerful for Linda if they made Christmas a festive occasion, so she decorated as usual. Roger and his son Jason brought a tree for her when they went to cut their own. Jason looked much like his father with the same dark features. At nineteen, he was tall and lanky, but no doubt in a few more years he would develop a build like his well-muscled parent. Jason and Violet had been on good terms when he was in her class, though he had been a lazy student, hardly measuring up to his potential. Janie came one evening after school to help decorate the tree.
The girl was losing much of her diffidence. Especially in Violet’s presence, Janie reacted more like a normal teenager should, and she was turning out to be quite a chatterer. When they finished with the tree, Violet asked Janie to stay for dinner, which Ruth had prepared while they decorated. Ruth also had a knack of putting Janie at ease, so when they cleared the invitation by phone with Mrs. Grady, the three of them settled at the table. Linda rarely came to the table anymore, and she wouldn’t eat at all if one of them didn’t sit by her bed and feed her.
“This is going to be the best Christmas I remember,” Janie said. “Mrs. Grady has decorated. She has presents under the tree and is planning a big dinner. With the allowance I receive, I’ve bought several presents. With the two little ones that Mrs. Grady cares for, it will be like a family—I’m eager to see them open their gifts.”
Violet and Ruth exchanged a compassionate glance. Violet already knew that Janie’s mother was an alcoholic, that her home life had been dreadful and only rarely did the girl mention her mother.
“Janie,” Ruth said, “don’t answer if you’d rather not, but do you know anything about your father? Haven’t you ever had a normal home life?”
“No, ma’am. Far as I know, my mother was married to my father, and I carry his last name, but I don’t remember him at all. I think his name was Robert, but I’m not sure. There were always men in and out of our apartment, but none of them was my father.”
“Your father might want you if he knew where you were. Has there been any move to contact him?” Violet asked.
“Not as far as I know. I wouldn’t know where to start, and I’d be afraid to try to find him anyway. What if I learned who he was, and he wouldn’t own me or have anything to do with me? I’d just as soon stay the way I am. I won’t be hurt that way.”
Violet could certainly identify with Janie’s reasoning—she knew the pain of rejection, but she persisted, “Where were you born?”
“In Missouri, somewhere, but when I first remember, my mother and I lived in Springfield, Illinois, and there wasn’t a father around after that. She goes by the name of Skeen, though—Pat Skeen.”
“Where is your mother now? How did she react when you were placed in a foster home?”
Janie dropped her head, and Ruth said, “Forgive us, Janie. We shouldn’t be prying into your personal affairs. We’re just interested in helping you.”
“And you are helping me—by treating me like I’m somebody. But about my mother—I don’t know where she is. I went home from school one day, and she was gone. There were other times when she would be gone for two or three days, but when a week passed, and she didn’t come back, I didn’t know what to do. A friend of mine, who had the same problems I did, wanted to run away, and I joined her.”
Ruth poured another glass of tea for Janie and served all of them a portion of fruitcake. Violet had lost her appetite, for hearing Janie’s experience brought back her own childhood, and she silently thanked God for Aunt Ruth who had shielded her from the kind of life Janie had endured.
“Did your mother report your absence to the authorities?”
“I don’t know. My friend soon got tired of living on the streets and went back home, but I wandered on my own until I nearly starved to death. I went to a shelter then, and a social worker began to counsel me. When my mother couldn’t be found at our old address, and I knew nothing about my father, the state agency took over. I lived in another home for two months before I was sent to Mrs. Grady.”
Fleetingly, Violet wondered if she could adopt Janie. She loved the girl and would like to give her a home, but she wasn’t sure if that was the answer. Janie should be with her own people. Surely somewhere there was a member of her family who would want her.
Christmas Day was quiet, but meaningful to those in Violet’s household. They bundled Linda into her wheelchair and insisted that she share in the gift opening. Since Roger’s children had gone to Arizona for a week with his mother and sister, Violet invited him to take dinner with them. When she asked Roger why he hadn’t gone to Arizona, too, he said, “The holiday season is a poor time for a state policeman to be on vacation,” but she wondered if he hadn’t stayed in Maitland because he thought she would need him.
Ruth and Violet had very little cooking to do, for the church women had brought cakes, cookies, and other goodies until Violet asked Pastor Tom to announce to the congregation that they needed nothing more.
Roger came early, and he helped them bring Linda into the living room. He brought presents for everyone, and even Linda showed an interest in her gifts, although she didn’t have the strength to open them. Violet had never bought a gift for Roger, but after the tower of strength he had been to her in the past few months, she presented him with the biography of an outstanding evangelist whom he admired.
Roger brought a blooming plant for Linda, a popular movie video for Ruth, and a dainty ceramic colonial lady for Violet to add to her collection. And Violet was particularly touched by a gift from Janie, a tiny doll figurine of a teacher.
After the gift opening, Linda rested an hour before dinner, and they brought her to the table, but her eyes were glossy, and the extra activity obviously drained her strength. They took her back to bed before they ate dessert. Roger wheeled her chair into the bedroom and helped Violet put her in bed. Before she tucked the covers around her, Violet put her arms around Linda and said, “Merry Christmas, Mother. I love you,” and thanked God that it was so; she had learned to love her mother.
A faint smile played around Linda’s lips, and she squeezed Violet’s hand. Weakly, she whispered, “Take care of her, Roger.”
He knelt by the bed and took Linda’s hand. “I intend to,” he said, “so don’t worry about it.”
Violet missed the import of Roger’s answer in her concern for her mother. She turned startled eyes toward Roger. Was her mother dying?
Roger shook his head and motioned Violet out of the room. “She’s used up all of her strength,” he whispered. “She’ll be all right.”
Pastor Tom came in the afternoon to pray with Linda before he went to visit several of his parishioners in the hospital. After the pastor left, Ruth said, “I’m going to take a nap, Violet. I’ll be up in time to prepare some supper.”
“We can eat leftovers, Aunt Ruth—there are plenty of them. You’ll stay for the evening, won’t you, Roger?”
“I have no intention of leaving as long as there’s any of that pecan pie left,” he said with a grin. Then he patted his side, “Or, at least, I won’t unless my beeper goes off.”
“Oh, are you on call?” Violet said, disappointed.
“Only in an extreme emergency. I worked until three o’clock this morning, so hopefully, I won’t be called. Christmas Eve is the most dangerous time for accidents—people usually settle down on Christmas Day.”
After Ruth went to the basement, Roger leaned back in the lounge chair, and Violet reclined on the couch. “Want to watch television?” she asked.
“Might as well,” Roger said, stifling a yawn.
Violet checked the TV listings. She mentioned a classic Christmas movie to Roger that had just begun.
“That will be fine. I’ve watched the show so many times with the kids that I don’t have to see the beginning.”
Violet lowered the volume on the television so that Linda and Ruth wouldn’t be disturbed. Then she fluffed a cushion, put it under her head, and leaned back on the couch, which was a mistake, she decided an hour later when she awakened. Not a very flattering way to entertain a guest, she thought, but she turned to look at Roger, and he, too, was sleeping. She raised on one elbow and looked intently at him.
Here was a new Roger! When he was awake, he was always so vibrant, energetic, and his dark eyes snapped with authority and confidence. Sleeping, the years rolled away, and he seemed as young as Jason. In fact, as he lay relaxed and peaceful, he also seemed vulnerable, and for the first time, Violet felt protective toward him. She always expected him to bail her out of difficulties; maybe it was time for their friendship to work two ways. He didn’t have an easy life with sole responsibility for two children, as well as having a dangerous and demanding job.
Roger stirred and sleepily met her eyes. Lifting the chair into an upright position, he said, “Sorry—I guess I haven’t been very good company.”
“I was going to apologize to you. I just woke up myself.”
Standing and stretching, Roger glanced at the TV screen. “We might as well forget the movie. We’ve missed most of it now.”
Violet turned off the television and sat up. Roger came to sit beside her. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him. For several minutes, they glanced out the window where intermittent fluffy snowflakes danced at the mercy of a strong north wind. Hungry birds twittered at the bird feeder. Neighborhood boys walked by with shining new sleds on their shoulders heading toward the vacant lot a block away, where a two-inch layer of snow would provide a testing ground for the sleds they had gotten for Christmas.
“Reminds me of the Christmas days when I was a boy,” Roger said reminiscently. “We lived on a farm about a hundred miles north of here, and it seemed that we always had snow and cold weather for Christmas then. There were usually twenty to twenty-five people at our house to celebrate the day, and after we ate a big dinner of roast pork, turkey, lots of vegetables and desserts, we boys would vacate the house and either sleigh ride or skate on the pond.” He laughed quietly. “One of us would have gotten a new sled, and we couldn’t wait to try it out.”
“Sounds like lots of fun,” Violet said, thinking of the quiet Christmases she had spent.
“I remember the year I got a pair of new skates. Dad warned us that the creek wasn’t frozen hard enough for skating, but I had to try out those skates. I took one quick slide and crashed through the ice.”
“Wasn’t that dangerous?”
“Oh, the water only came to my waist, but it was cold. I didn’t want the relatives to josh me about my accident, so I slipped in the back door and upstairs to change my clothes, hoping no one would know. But my sister noticed that I was wearing a different pair of pants, and the truth came out. Sisters!” He squeezed her shoulders. “What about you, Violet? What memories do you have of past Christmases?”
“Nothing as exciting as yours, I’m sure. Uncle was always home for Christmas, and I looked forward to that. He brought my gifts from the foreign country where he was working. That’s how I started my doll collection.” She got up and took two dolls from the shelves. She handed Roger a small doll, dressed in a colorful full skirt, embroidered vest, striped shawl and a white hat with a curled brim. “He brought this from Peru, the year he was working at the famed Inca site— Machu Picchu.”
She wiped some dust from a heavily veiled female doll, draped from head to foot in a black, fringed garment. Only the eyes of the doll were visible. “This one is probably my favorite. He bought it in Egypt.”
Violet put the dolls back on the shelf and resumed her seat beside Roger. “Your lack of parents didn’t seem to affect your Christmas celebrations,” he said.
“I guess not. I wasn’t used to family gatherings, and I didn’t know what I was missing. We always went to Christmas Eve services at the church, and one year I was in the pageant—chosen to be one of the angels announcing the birth of the Christ Child. That was exciting.”
“I’ve always thought that I would like to be in the Holy Land on Christmas Eve,” Roger said. “I’d like to walk through Manger Square and go out to Shepherd’s Field.”
“I didn’t know you had any desire to travel,” Violet said, somewhat surprised.
Roger shrugged his shoulders. “There’s no need to wish for something you can’t have,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve had all I can do to provide for a family, and it wouldn’t be much fun traveling by myself. And as for visiting the Holy Land at Christmas, I feel sure it would be a disappointment. There are such throngs of people crowding Manger Square at that time, that it would be difficult to remember what we were celebrating.”
“Perhaps you can go at another time of the year,” Violet said, wishing she had the power to grant Roger’s desire.
“Maybe, someday.”
They heard Linda coughing, and both of them went to see about her, but she had apparently coughed in her sleep, for she lay peacefully, and they left the room without disturbing her.
“I suppose this will be my saddest Christmas,” Violet said. “We know she can’t live much longer.”
“No, and it’s well that you realize it. But I believe this Christmas will be one you will remember fondly. Although it’s a strain now, you’ll look back on this season as the time you had your mother and were able to sacrifice for her. Christmas is a time for joy and giving, but it’s often a time of sacrifice.”
“You’re probably right,” she said, “but I can’t see that far into the future.”
It was almost ten o’clock before Roger went home, and the day that Violet had dreaded had passed quickly and pleasantly. Musingly, she sat down and listened to the sound of his truck moving down the street.
“When are you two going to get married?” Ruth said.
Violet was speechless for several moments, and she stared at Ruth. “Me marry Roger, you mean? I’ve never thought of such a thing.”
“It’s time you did, then. A stranger observing you would probably deduce that you’re already man and wife. I’ve never seen two people more suited for marriage.”
“But Roger is quite a lot older than I am. Besides, he’s such a good friend—I’ve never thought of him romantically.”
“Do you actually think he does all these things for you because he’s your friend?”
“But he’s good to everyone. He exhibits agape love, the kind that Christians have for one another.”
“Agape love is wonderful, but take it from a woman who was happily married for thirty years, nothing can compare with the special love that a man has for the one woman in his life. I don’t want you to miss that, and I feel sure that Roger harbors that kind of love for you—he’s shown it in a hundred ways since I’ve been here. Frankly, I think you take him for granted. You had better open your eyes before you lose him.”
Long after Ruth went to bed, Violet mulled over the strange words she had heard from her aunt. Apparently Linda had recognized Roger’s love for Violet, or she wouldn’t have asked him to care for her. Why was it Ruth and Linda had noticed something that she couldn’t see? Ruth’s words had stung her conscience. Had she taken Roger for granted—always taking from him and never giving?
She wondered what it would be like to know the full force of Roger’s love. She remembered that day at the farm when she had sat in his big chair and had the sensation that his arms were around her. He had embraced her a few times, but always in a brotherly manner. Had Roger been ready for months to offer her the kind of love that she had expected from Larry Holland and she had been too blind to see it? How was she going to find out?
Chapter Five
Although she worried that it might be another case of “using” him, she did talk to him about Janie’s needs, explaining what Janie had revealed about her parents. “Are channels available that would enable you to find out who her father is or where he might be? I think Janie is as well off if she doesn’t know where her mother is. The woman apparently abandoned her.”
“Maybe not. Judging from what you’ve told me, she could have died unidentified in some emergency room. In large cities, many incidents like that occur and are never reported to the police.”
“Is there any way we could find some member of her family?”
“In this day of computerized record keeping, there isn’t much information that can be concealed. I can make inquiries, if you like, but what does Janie think about this?”
“I believe the child is happier now than she’s ever been. Mrs. Grady has given her a good home, and she said that if she contacted her father and he didn’t want her, it would hurt her. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea and I should just tend to my own business.”
“It won’t hurt for me to do a little investigating—neither the father nor Janie would need to know. What are the names of her parents?”
“Her mother’s name is Pat, and Janie thinks the father’s name is Robert. She said she was born in Missouri. Do what you think best. I definitely won’t tell Janie anything until we return from that Social Studies Fair, which comes up in two weeks. And that’s bothering me, too,” she began, and paused as her conscience smote her. Was she just using Roger as a sounding board?
“Go ahead,” Roger prompted.