“Kate,” I said, then stopped. “I don’t know how you feel.” I leaned on my knees and rubbed my hands together, thinking. “I don’t know if you’re really ready for us to end because…because I don’t think I am.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?” she asked, her tone still doubtful.
“I don’t know, Kate,” I replied, shaking my head. “All I know is it’s Christmas.” She looked at me, confused. “It’s Christmas, Kate, and I realized that nobody could give me a greater gift than that of my family.”
She shook her head and looked away. I gently took hold of her arms and turned her toward me. She looked anxiously into my eyes.
“Nothing matters to me, Kate,” I said, slightly squeezing her arms in my grip. “Nothing. The job, the cars, the house. None of it. The only thing that matters to me is you and Hannah and Lily because…” I stopped, concerned that she would never believe me, but I knew I had to say it. “Because I love all of you.” I stopped to watch her face. Her expression was one of puzzled wonderment. It was the same look she used to give me when we were dating, when I’d say something that she thought was crazy. It was the exact same look, and I was warmed by the fact that I recognized it.
“I do, Kate,” I whispered. “I love you and I don’t want to lose you.”
Kate searched my eyes. What was in them tonight? Hope? Forgiveness? Peace? I released my hold and she fell back into the sofa, still watching me. I wasn’t burying myself in the mail or running away from her to go to the office but, instead, I felt filled to the very brim with some sort of joy. Joy. I wasn’t anxious or restless or upset about anything. I was truly calm and serene, in an inexplicably strange, peaceful way. I hadn’t been calm and serene in years.
She crossed her legs and asked slowly, “What happened to you tonight?”
“It’s a long story,” I said, smiling, and then we talked into the night.
Maggie’s breathing was labored, but she was coherent. Sylvia prepared to switch the IV bag, but Maggie lifted her hand weakly to stop her. Sylvia had hooked up a new bag that morning, yet throughout the day it had slowly drained empty, and she needed to replace it with a full bag that would take Maggie through the evening.
“Maggie,” Sylvia whispered, “this will help with your pain.”
“No,” Maggie mouthed.
“It’s okay, Sylvia,” Jack said. “She wants to watch the kids unwrap their presents. She knows she won’t be able to if you give her that.”
Sylvia stroked Maggie’s cheek and straightened the scarf on her head.
“All right, baby doll,” she comforted. “I’m going to leave this right here,” she added, hooking the bag on the pole beside Maggie’s bed. “If you want some medicine, just have somebody open up the drip, all right?” Maggie nodded and Sylvia smiled, squeezing her arm. “You just yell if you need me,” she said to Jack, slipping to Rachel’s room, where she would work on a needlepoint stocking or read when she wanted to give Jack and Maggie as much uninterrupted time as she could. She had been with them ten to twelve hours a day for the last two weeks, going home some time in the evening. Sylvia held the needlework in her hands and rested her head against the wall. She would be finishing up her shift in another thirty minutes, leaving the Andrews family to spend Christmas Eve alone.
Normally, Jack and Maggie would retrieve presents from the attic once Nathan had gone to bed, but this year Jack suggested they unwrap their gifts on Christmas Eve instead of waiting for Christmas morning. He and Evelyn had wrapped what few presents they had for the children and placed them under the tree days ago.
Evelyn went into the bathroom and brought out some blush, eye shadow, powder, and lipstick to Maggie’s bedside. When Maggie was no longer strong enough to put on her own makeup, Evelyn did it for her. Evelyn gently freshened the colors she had applied that morning—a soft taupe to Maggie’s eyelids, dusty mauve to her sunken cheeks, and rosewood to her lips. She finished by dusting Maggie’s face with some fresh powder, then held up a mirror for Maggie to see herself.
“Thanks, Mom,” she whispered feebly.
Nathan tiptoed in through the backdoor and into his room, unnoticed. After dinner he had told his father he needed to run to a neighbor’s house down the street. Jack assumed Nathan and his little friend had made gifts for everyone and didn’t question him any further. After a few minutes, Nathan carefully opened his bedroom door and tiptoed down the hall and into the living room, depositing the gift under the tree.
Jack had tried to get ready for this evening, hoping it would never come. As hard as he prayed, he just wasn’t ready for this to be his last Christmas with Maggie. He sat by her bed earlier in the day and watched her sleep. How could she be so sick and still be so beautiful? How could he ever wake up in a house without her in it? He watched as she drew in small, shallow breaths. The look in Sylvia’s eyes told him it wouldn’t be long, that she’d started to let go. Two days ago Sylvia sat Jack down and talked to him about helping Maggie go—letting her know that it was okay, that she didn’t have to hold on anymore.
Maggie woke to the same eyes she’d fallen in love with nearly twelve years earlier. “I love you,” she whispered. There weren’t enough hours in the day for them to say those words, but they said them as often as they could.
“I love you, Maggie,” Jack answered softly. “I always have and I always will.”
She smiled and moved her fingers toward him.
He stood up, holding the fragile hand in his and kissed her lightly.
“That broken down Ford Escort was the greatest thing that ever happened to me,” he said slowly. Her eyes twinkled. How fortunate she was to have had someone who loved her so completely for so long. They talked about her mother and the kids and about taking care of her flowers in the spring. Jack talked about everything he could think of, rambling and groping for words as Maggie nodded and smiled. He caressed her face and held her hand, repeatedly saying “I love you” until she fell back to sleep, listening to his voice.
For dinner, Evelyn warmed up some turkey someone from church had dropped off, complete with gravy and stuffing and cranberry sauce. After the dinner dishes were set aside, Jack started pulling the few presents from under the tree and handed one to Nathan to unwrap. Rachel sat on Evelyn’s lap, squirming and clapping her hands.
“Hurry up and hand this child a present before she bursts,” Evelyn laughed. Maggie smiled as Rachel tightly squeezed the stuffed Pooh bear with the big, fat, soft tummy. Nathan’s eyes lit up when he saw the new Matchbox cars he’d been wanting.
“I’m taking these to show-and-tell,” he cried.
Jack winked at Maggie and held her hand as Rachel screamed, “Oh my! Oh my!” when she unwrapped a pink baby doll whose eyes actually moved. Nathan beamed with excitement at the package of ten different colored markers he held in his hands.
Evelyn unwrapped a beautiful purple and black scarf to go with her winter coat that Nathan and Rachel picked out themselves.
“It’s so warm and toasty,” she said, kissing her grandchildren.
Bending over, Evelyn pulled out a skinny box and handed it to Jack.
“We weren’t supposed to exchange gifts,” he said, feeling terribly sorry that there wasn’t one under the tree for her.
“I know,” Evelyn replied. “It’s just something I thought you might like,” she said, smiling at Maggie.
He opened it and pulled out a framed crayon drawing of a little girl with big circles of red on her cheeks and hair that flipped up at the ends. She was wearing a blue dress with big yellow flowers on it and holding a red balloon. Her arms were long and straight and both feet turned in the same direction, one clearly bigger than the other. Beside her stood a puffy white dog with a smile on its face, its four legs long and spider-like, all of them facing the same direction. By the dog’s paws in big, red letters, the drawing was signed Maggie. Jack smiled broadly and thanked Evelyn, holding up the artwork for Maggie to see.
“She was in kindergarten wh
en she drew that,” Evelyn explained. “I found it in my things a while ago and told Maggie I’d get it framed for you.”
Jack held the picture and imagined Maggie drawing it, wishing he could have seen her as a little girl rummaging through her crayons strewn all around her and carefully selecting the perfect one to color in the flowers or the right shade of blue for the dress. He clutched the drawing and leaned over to kiss Maggie.
“I’ll hang it right next to the da Vinci,” he said, holding her hand.
Nathan anxiously waited for his mother to open his present, the anticipation giving him butterflies. He scurried under the tree and pulled out a small box. There were only two more presents under the tree—he’d counted. Jack stood by Maggie and gently tore into the wrapping paper for her. It was a small jewelry box. Jack lifted the lid. In the center of the blue velvet padding was a delicate gold locket with a rose etched into the front of it. Jack opened the locket to reveal a picture of Rachel laughing at the camera in her red Christmas dress on one side and Nathan sitting on the front porch when all the flowers were in bloom on the other side.
“Oh,” Maggie said, smiling.
“I know you’ve always wanted one of these with pictures of the kids,” Jack said, putting it around her neck.
“This,” Evelyn explained holding a present in her hand, “is something else she has always wanted.”
Maggie looked at her mother quizzically as Evelyn softly tore the tissue wrapping paper around the gift. Evelyn lifted the lid to reveal her crimson satin wrap, the one Maggie had always adored. Evelyn had received it as a present from her own mother and had worn it draped over her shoulders in her wedding picture. She was wearing a skirt, a soft blouse, a corsage, a hat, and the beautiful wrap. Maggie’s eyes lit up.
“She has always had her eye on this,” Evelyn teased, draping it around Maggie’s shoulders. “Thank you,” Maggie mouthed. Evelyn kissed her forehead and fussed with the wrap till it was tied elegantly in front.
Nathan crawled under the tree again. It was finally time for his present. Reaching toward the back, he pulled out the haphazardly wrapped package he’d shoved under the tree just minutes earlier. He placed the package on his mother’s lap, and Evelyn and Jack exchanged glances as Nathan helped his mother tear the wrapping. Together they ripped into the plain brown paper. Nathan eagerly helped his mother lift the lid off the box. Nathan reached in and pulled out the sparkly shoes for his mother. Her eyes gleamed as she held the shoes on her chest, admiring them. Nathan hurried excitedly to the foot of the bed, uncovering Maggie’s legs, triumphantly slipping the shoes onto his mother’s feet.
“They’re the prettiest shoes they had,” he told her.
“They’re so beautiful,” she whispered, smiling at her proud son.
We arrived at my mother’s house early Christmas Day. “Merry Christmas!” Mom yelled as she flung open the door. The air was filled with aromas of roast turkey, mulled cider, pecan pie, evergreen, and aged oak logs burning in the fireplace. Hannah and Lily ran screaming into their grandmother’s arms, falling over each other to get to their presents under the tree.
“Merry Christmas, Mom!” Kate laughed as Hannah frantically dragged her to the tree.
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” I said leaning in to kiss her. I was eager to tell her about what had happened last night.
“Come on!” Lily shouted as she threw herself against my legs.
“Okay, okay,” I relented. “Let’s get things started here.”
Lily banged her tiny hands together as I handed her a present that she swore was bigger than anything she’d ever seen. Hannah gasped when a beautiful gold box with gold lace ribbon was given to her. I passed out the gifts until everyone had their very own pile in front of them—sweaters, earrings, cookware, and books for Kate; baby dolls, coloring books, clothes, and more baby dolls for Lily; then a beautiful grown-up necklace for Hannah, along with games, elegant paper dolls and the latest Barbie accessories. Kate had shopped weeks earlier for Mom. She unwrapped a gorgeous brooch with the birthstones of all her grandchildren embedded in a circle of gold.
“I have always wanted one of these!” she shouted. “I’m going to wear it everywhere,” she exclaimed, proudly pinning it to her sweater. The new pin would also fit nicely on the lapel of her brandnew periwinkle blazer and red silk blouse. “Oh, how beautiful,” she cried, squeezing Lily’s cheeks. “What a fashionable granny I’ll be.”
I set aside my new aftershave, books, socks, and underwear. Why, after so many years, did my mother insist on buying me underwear?
“I assumed you were running low on boxers,” she teased, to the infectious giggles of her granddaughters.
“I was, Mother. Thank you,” I said, grinning, ripping into the last present from my pile. I tore back the paper and ran my thumbnail across the tape holding the small box shut. Lifting the lid, I carefully opened the edges of the tissue paper and looked at Mother in surprise. I pulled out the Dunhill Billiard and held it up, reading the card she had slipped into the box. “No regrets,” it stated simply.
“What’s that?” Kate asked, surprised.
“This,” I said, pushing the end of the pipe proudly into my mouth with the flare of a British statesman, “is a reminder.”
Mom was bent over, opening the oven door, when I snuck up on her.
“Mom,” I said anxiously.
Startled, she snapped upright, slamming the door with a bang. “Don’t scare me, Robert,” she scolded.
“I didn’t mean to,” I said, ushering her to the kitchen table.
“I didn’t check on my turkey,” she claimed, spinning on her heels.
“Wait,” I urged. “Sit down.” She sat. “Mom, last night Kate and I talked till four-thirty in the morning.”
“About what?” she exclaimed. “My word, you must be exhausted.”
“I am,” I said, rubbing my temples. “I’m dog tired. I could throw up, I’m so tired.”
“Well, don’t stand over me!” she shouted, laughing.
I sat down, my eyes flashing.
“Mom, the most incredible thing happened last night.” She sat forward, listening. “It was like an epiphany, like a lightning bolt hit me or something. I was shopping for all of you when I decided not to get anybody anything. Oh, by the way—Kate bought you the brooch and stuff,” I offered as an aside. “I didn’t know anything about it.”
“Thanks a lot,” she roared.
“Really long story short—we’re going to try to work it out.”
She banged on the table, “I knew she still loved you.”
“I think she does,” I said shyly. “And I know I love her.”
“Well, go,” she commanded, shooing me toward the door. “Go, go, go! Go play with your girls on Christmas. I’ll keep things going in here and will be out in a minute.” She playfully shoved me out the door and moved to the oven.
“Thank you, Lord!” I could hear her whoop from the living room. I heard the oven door creak open and then the metallic swish of a carving knife being sharpened against steel. “Thank you,” echoed from the kitchen, amid the clamoring of pots and pans. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
Seven
We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us;
we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.
—C. S. Lewis
It was nearing midnight. The lights on the tree blazed faithfully. The children were sound asleep. Nathan was probably too old to dream of Santa Claus, and Rachel was too young. Jack looked into his wife’s blue eyes for as long as she could hold them open.
“I love you, Maggie,” he said over and over. “Thank you for being my wife. Thank you for loving me.” She was unable to speak but held Jack’s gaze. “We’re going to be okay, Maggie,” he said, holding her face. “We all love you, and we’re going to be okay, so it’s all right if you want to go now.”
Evelyn stroked Maggie’s arms and held her hand.
“You don
’t have to hold on anymore,” Jack comforted.
“Your daddy’s waiting for you,” Evelyn added. “You can go be with your daddy, and we’ll all be okay here.”
Maggie’s eyes eventually closed, and for the next two hours, Evelyn and Jack continued to talk to her, watching as each breath became shallower, a low rattle building in her chest. Evelyn read the Christmas story from Luke. “So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David,” she read. Jack straightened the wrap around Maggie’s shoulders and positioned the locket in the center of her chest. “He went there to register with Mary,” Evelyn continued, “who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son.” Evelyn paused, stroking Maggie’s hand as she read on. “She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” Evelyn continued to read about the shepherds in their fields and realized the Book of Luke didn’t include the Wise Men. Flipping back to the Book of Matthew, she quickly found the passage she was looking for.
“Here it is, Maggie,” she said holding the Bible up toward her daughter. “After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, ‘Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him.’” Evelyn laid the Bible on her lap. “When she was little, Maggie would always say that she couldn’t believe no one else even bothered to notice that huge star in the sky. Remember that, Maggie?” Evelyn asked, caressing her face. “Look for that star now, Maggie. We’re all okay here. Nathan and Rachel are warm and asleep in their beds. We’re all going to be okay, so look for the star and follow it. Follow it till you find Jesus. He’s waiting for you, baby.”
The Christmas Shoes (Christmas Hope) Page 8