by Bonnie Tharp
Hospital food is so bland. I should’ve brought some pumpkin pie or something for Tom.
The kids entered his room in silence. The television was turned on, but not the sound. Tom lay in the mechanical bed partially upright, with extra pillows behind his shoulder and under his left arm. He was right-handed, if she recalled correctly. His eyes were closed, his hair a mess, his skin the color of bread dough, but his breathing sounded normal. The kids surrounded the bed with worried frowns.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” Peggy whispered.
His eyes fluttered open. He stared at his daughter for a moment before a smile formed on his thin face.
“Merry Christmas, kiddo.” His voice was raspy and low, but strong. His eyes went from Peggy to Megan to Tad then Annabelle.
“How ya doing?” Tad asked. He rocked back and forth, from heel to toe, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“I’m better after seeing all of you.” Tom’s eyes filled, tears sliding out of the corners.
“We brought your Christmas present,” Megan said.
Laying the colorful box on his lap, Peggy stepped back.
He touched the ribbon with his unencumbered hand and tugged at the tape, nearly knocking the box off the bed.
“Want some help?” Megan asked.
“Sure. I’m not very good at this.”
“That’s okay. I’m a great present-opener.” Megan scooted closer to the bed and pulled the bow off, then tore the paper from the box. Sticking her finger between the lid and the bottom, she yanked through the tape that held it closed. “There you go!”
“Thanks.” He lifted the box lid and frowned. He folded back the cover of the large album. The kids had made their father a scrapbook, too, but this one was different, more a history of chronological events.
“We thought you might like to see what we’ve been doing all the time you’ve been gone,” Peggy said.
Megan leaned over the bed rail. “This is where I was little. Right after you left.”
With no accusation in her voice, she explained page after page of events.
“We don’t have pictures from every year, but this’ll give you a clue what all went on.” Tad explained. “You missed a lot, Dad.”
Tom looked up at his children, more tears slid down his face. “I know and I’m so sorry. This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”
“Really?” Megan asked. She slid his hand into hers.
“We did okay, Dad. That’s what the pictures should tell you.” Peggy handed him a tissue. “We aren’t mad anymore. We found the letters you wrote. We know you weren’t lying about them.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt . . .” Tom choked on the tears.
“We know you didn’t mean to hurt us,” Megan said.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand and tried to blow his nose. It was awkward, but he got it done. “This all means so much . . . Annabelle?”
“Yes, Tom?” She stepped closer to the end of the bed.
“Thank you for bringing my kids. It’s worth getting shot just to see them, even though it hurts like the devil.”
Tad and Peggy chuckled. Megan smiled. “I’m sorry you’re hurt. It seems weird to say it, but Merry Christmas.”
He tugged at her index finger. “I understand. Merry Christmas to you, pumpkin.”
A white-haired nurse in red and green scrubs with reindeer flying all over them stepped into the room. “Merry Christmas, family. How are you doing Mr. Malone?”
“Much better now.”
“So, I see.” She took his arm in hers and checked his pulse. “Seems you may have had enough excitement for a while. How about if the family comes back tomorrow? You’ll be here a couple days more, until we know you can manage without popping a stitch.” She left as quickly as she came.
“We’d better go, Dad,” Peggy said. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
Megan couldn’t reach him in that big bed, so she squeezed his free hand.
Giving his father’s hand a shake, Tad left to follow his sisters into the hall.
Annabelle slipped to the side of the bed.
“Thanks, Annabelle. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“Merry Christmas, Tom.”
Chapter 44
NEW YEAR’S DAY dawned cold and sunny. The Kansas wind had calmed and the remnants of snow glistened on the grass. Regina and Sam would celebrate Christmas with the kids before the football games were in full swing. The guys planned to go over to Joe and Tillie’s to watch their new flat screen TV and snack on junk food. The ladies rented a couple of romantic comedies and would camp out in the parlor with their own popcorn and drinks.
The kids opened their gifts from Tillie and Joe and gave out hugs and thanks. Regina’s gifts were sitting by her feet and would be opened last. She handed them out and said, “Open them one at a time so we can all see what you received.”
“I’ll go first,” Tad said, tearing into the paper around the large box he held in his lap. His eyes lit up as he realized what the wooden box might hold. It had a brass handle and clasp like a brief case and the wood was dark and stained with age. He lifted the lid. His mouth fell open. Inside were a multitude of compartments holding oil paints of every hue and brushes of various sizes. He fingered them smiling. “These are sable, aren’t they?”
“You know quality brushes when you see them,” Regina said.
“Were these yours?”
“My first set. I replaced the tubes of paint, but the brushes were my own.”
He smiled at his cousin. “Thank you. I’ll take really good care of them.”
“I’m next,” Peggy said, tearing off the paper that surrounded the white garment-sized box. She pulled off the tape, opened the lid and folded back the tissue. Her fingers glided along the creamy cashmere. “They’re beautiful.” She picked up the scarf and mittens, sliding them across her chin. “Thank you, they’re wonderful.”
“You’re welcome,” Regina said. “Those were my first cashmere items. I was your age when I received them. I hoped you would enjoy them.”
“Oh, I will.” Tears sparkled in Peggy’s eyes.
“Now me!” Megan carefully peeled away the paper. She lifted the lid, then the fabric wrapped object onto her lap, putting the box on the floor by her feet. She uncovered Regina’s china doll. “She’s so pretty.” Her finger traced the tiny features, her other hand cradling the painted head. “Does she have a name?”
“When she was mine, I called her Elizabeth. Now that she’s yours, I think you should give her a new name.”
“I’ll call her Audrey.”
“That’s lovely,” Annabelle said.
Regina agreed.
Megan cradled the doll carefully in her arms and stepped over to her cousin.
“Thank you so much. I’ll take good care of her.” Megan gave Regina a kiss on the cheek.
Heat rose in Regina’s face, and her heart filled with love.
“It’s going to be a very happy New Year!” Megan smiled at everyone.
“Happy New Year!” they said in unison.
Megan and Annabelle began stuffing the torn paper into a garbage bag when the phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Megan said. She grabbed the phone only seconds before her sister.
“Hello. Oh, hi. Yes, she’s here. Happy New Year to you, too.” Megan put her hand over the receiver and whispered, “Gram, it’s for you.”
“Really? Who could that be?”
“It’s Mr. Edwards.”
“Okay, I’ll take it in the kitchen,” Annabelle said, grinning as Tad rolled his eyes.
“Happy New Year, Phil. How are you?”
“I’m just grand, Belle. Do you have big plans today?”
“We’re
just watching movies and eating popcorn. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, if you’re busy with your family . . .”
“Would you like to join us?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. I know it’s a little cold, but the sun is shining and the river is beautiful. Would you take a walk in the park with me this afternoon?”
“I think a short one would be very nice. What time?”
“How about I pick you up at two o’clock?”
“That sounds fine. See you then.” She hung up the phone and smiled. “What a nice way to bring in the New Year.”
“I suppose you’ve got another date,” Tad said when Annabelle joined them in the living room.
“Not exactly. We’re going for a walk this afternoon. We won’t be gone long. You can come with us if you want to.”
“Joe, can we go to your house now? I don’t think I want to be here when Coach picks up Gram. It’s too embarrassing.”
“Better get over it, son,” Joe said. “I think they like each other.”
Tad groaned.
“We’re just good friends. You’re the only man in my life now.” Annabelle hugged her grandson.
Megan giggled.
“Okay, guys, let’s resume this party across the street where there’s a man-sized television,” Joe said.
“Hear, hear.” Sam stood and kissed Regina’s cheek before following the guys to the door.
Hopping up, Tad waved at the women. “Wait for me, I’m with you guys.”
Joe gave Tillie a kiss on the head. “Guess I’d better get going.
“All this lovie stuff is making me sick.” Tad went out on the front porch.
“I take it he doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Joe said.
“Not yet,” Peggy said. “Nobody I know is that dumb.”
“Stop. He’s only fourteen. He doesn’t need a girlfriend at his age,” Annabelle said.
“Whatever you say, Gram.” Peggy waved at her brother. “What time is Mr. Edwards picking you up?”
“Two.”
“Then we have time for one movie. What’ll it be, Sleepless in Seattle or You’ve Got Mail?”
“Sleepless,” Regina said.
“Done.”
THE DOORBELL RANG at the stroke of two. The movie ended, and Annabelle stuffed a tissue in her sleeve.
Heading to the door, Megan called over her shoulder, “I’ll get it.”
Annabelle put her hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “I’ve got it. Thank you, sweetie.” She opened the door to Phil’s smiling face. “Hello.” His bald head was covered with the brown watchman’s cap Annabelle had crocheted for his Christmas gift.
“I like your hat.”
“Me, too. Get your coat and we’ll be off.”
“Come in while I get my things.”
Phil stepped into the entry and waved at the rest of the ladies in the parlor. “Hello and Happy New Year.”
“Thank you. Happy New Year to you,” Regina said.
Annabelle donned her coat, added a bright red scarf, gloves and a gray wool cap.
“See you all later.” She followed Phil out the door to his car.
They drove the few blocks into central Riverside and parked. Phil offered her his arm. “Shall we, my lady?”
Smiling, Annabelle nodded and stepped onto the curb. They strolled along the river in the sunshine.
“Did you have a nice holiday?”
“Yes, with the exception of Tom’s injury.”
“I’m sure that was hard. But he’s going to be okay, right?”
“Yes. The kids want to see more of him. Sometimes I feel jealous and don’t want to share them, but he’s their father. He’s changed. I just hope he doesn’t hurt them again.”
“Annabelle, it’s part of living.”
“I know that in my head, but my heart . . . isn’t quite that smart.”
Tucking her hand under his arm, they glided along, leaving footprints in the snow. “When I lost Martha it hurt. Even now, I get lonely sometimes. Spending time with you has made that go away. I want to thank you for that.”
Stopping them in midstride, Annabelle held tight to his arm.
“Would you think I’m a terrible person if I told you I don’t miss my husband at all?”
“How long has it been?”
“Oh my, years and years. Liddy was a teen when he died. She worshipped David.”
“I’ve heard little girls are often closer to their fathers when they’re young. Is that why you don’t miss him?”
“No. He had a problem holding his liquor, his temper . . . and his fists.”
Phil stopped. He looked at Annabelle’s face.
“Did he beat you and your daughter?”
“No, not Liddy. Just me.”
He wrapped his arms around her, giving her an awkward hug. “I’m so sorry.”
A tear escaped her eye. She quickly wiped it away. “It was a long time ago. The bruises have long since healed.”
“Maybe on the outside.” Phil took her hand. They walked toward several benches along the edge of the lane. “Would you like to sit for a moment?”
“That would be nice.” Annabelle pulled her collar higher.
Sitting with their shoulders touching, they looked out across the water. A flock of snow geese glided in for a landing on the opposite bank.
“It’s peaceful here. I’m glad you brought me, Phil.”
“I’ve done a lot of walking along this river over the years. The water is very soothing, and the birds are good company. But I like it even better with you.”
He pulled a small red bag tied with a silver ribbon from his pocket. “I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get you a little something.”
“Oh, Phil. No.”
“Please, Annabelle. Open it.”
She struggled with the knot in the bow, finally tugging it free. Inside the bag was a small wad of white tissue paper. Pulling it out she unfolded it to find a silver charm pin. On it were three figures, two girls and a boy.
“It’s so sweet. Thank you, Phil.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek, holding his chin with her gloved hand. “I love it.”
He pinned it on the lapel of her coat. She rested her hand on it, tears filling her eyes.
His brow furrowed. “Is everything all right?”
I’m turning into a blubbering idiot in my old age.
“I think so.”
“You seem troubled.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I don’t have anything to worry about now. My heart seems to be getting stronger. The kids will have a father around again, and Regina is taking care of the rest. I should be happy.”
“But you’re not.” He covered her hand with his. “What is Regina taking care of that’s bothering you?”
“The house.” A wind gust blew snow around their feet.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t afford the taxes and insurance on the house, so Regina has set up a trust. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. I really am. It’s just that I’ve always dreamed of taking care of things myself. This time . . . it feels like charity.”
“But you’re family. It’s not charity to help family.”
“But it feels that way.”
“I see. You want to be independent?”
She looked into his face. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold, but his expression full of understanding.
“Yes. That’s it exactly. I want to be able to take care of the kids and the house on my own.”
“But you don’t have to.”
She stood and stomped her frigid feet. “After David died, it was just Liddy and me. When she married, I was on my own. The first year I lived in a little
duplex, took in sewing, washing and ironing, and cleaned for the old fellow who lived next door. I didn’t need much. But now I have three kids to think about.”
“You do have your hands full, don’t you?” He tugged her back down onto the bench beside him. “We’ll just have to put our heads together and see if we can figure out a way to help you feel more independent.”
“Thanks, but I have an idea or two.”
“Would you give me the opportunity to spend more time with you?”
Annabelle could feel the heat in her cheeks. He really was a sweet man. She tucked her hand under his arm again and watched the sunlight shining on the water. This felt comfortable, safe, but she didn’t need a man to make her strong.
“Yes. And thank you.”
“For what?”
“For listening to the complaints of an old woman and for being kind.”
He squeezed her hand. “You’re younger than I am. And I cherish our friendship.”
“Me, too. Let’s go back, I’m getting cold.” Her nose was numb, but resolve warmed the rest of her. At sixty-seven she had at least twenty good years to go. There were all sorts of possibilities just waiting for a woman with some feistiness and gumption to make them happen.
THE HOLIDAY BREAK was over and the kids were back in school. Annabelle had the house to herself during the day once again. After all the hubbub of Thanksgiving and Christmas, she looked forward to returning to a routine. Enjoying the newspaper uninterrupted for a change, the phone rang into the silence.
“Hello.”
“Mrs. Hubbard?”
“Yes.”
“This is Marvel McElroy, Sam Duncan’s assistant.”
“Yes, hello. What can I do for you?”
“I understand from Mrs. Duncan that you made the bridesmaid dresses for their wedding.”
“That’s right.”
“And that lovely suit you wore as well?”
“Yes. I did.”
“I wondered if you might be interested in making the dresses for my daughter’s wedding? With the quality of your work, I would pay top dollar.”
Annabelle’s breath caught in her throat.
“Mrs. Hubbard, are you still there?”