A Wish for Christmas

by Thomas Kinkade

  “I’ll make a note of that, Mother,” Jessica said, biting back a smile.

  The baby was coming soon, early or not, Emily thought. Jessica would have her hands full with an infant and her two boys to look after. She wouldn’t have much time to run over here, to take care of Lillian. They’d both had it so easy with Sara living here. They had been spoiled, and now it was time to deal with some realities, some harsh realities.

  “Mother, now that Sara and Luke are gone, we really need to talk about how you’re going to manage in this house,” Emily began.

  “Manage? How do you think I’ll manage? The same way I’ve been doing it since your father died, I expect.”

  “Not quite the same, Mother,” Jessica said. “That was nearly thirty years ago.”

  “Just about. I was only forty-nine, a very young widow. You girls forget. You’ve always thought of me as an old woman, but I was quite young to be left alone. I just felt old,” she admitted. “I’ve made it this far on my own. I fail to see the problem.”

  “The problem,” Emily said, “is that for the past three years, you’ve had live-in help here, Mother. Whether you want to admit it or not, Sara and Luke looked after you. After that fall on the attic stairs, you couldn’t have remained here without them.”

  Lillian sat back and waved her hand airily. “Rubbish. Of course I could have. I was perfectly able, once my bones mended and I got out of that wheelchair. They didn’t have to stay. They wanted to.”

  The back door burst open and for a moment, Emily thought it was Sara and Luke, returning because they had forgotten something. Or they’d had a sudden, astounding change of heart and couldn’t stand the idea of leaving, after all.

  Wishful thinking, she quickly realized and smiled to herself as her nephews clomped into the room in their big sneakers and baggy jackets that flapped open.

  “Hey, Mom. We’re hungry. Can we have some lunch?”

  Darrell walked up to Jess and put his arm on her shoulder. He was fifteen and getting so tall; his face and voice were changing, too. He was a big help to Jessica now, watching his younger brother and helping in the house. Tyler was only five but pretty independent for his age. Emily wondered how he would react once the baby came.

  “Lunch, right.” Jessica nodded. Emily could tell what she was thinking. It would be hard if not impossible to feed the kids here. She doubted her mother had anything suitable in the house, the cabinets full of potato soup, Saltine crackers, and tuna fish in water, which Lillian ate with a squirt of lemon.

  Never mind the fuss Lillian would make over the mess—or the imagined mess.

  Jessica rose slowly and picked up her jacket. “Well, in that case, I guess we’d better go. We’ll pick up something on the way home, Darrell. Some pizza or burgers.”

  “Sweet.” Darrell was pleased by that announcement.

  “I want pizza,” Tyler said, tugging on Jess’s jacket.

  Lillian made a snorting sound. “Junk food. You need to give these children nutritious meals, Jessica. With fruit and vegetables.”

  Not that she stocked any in the house for their visits, mind you, Emily wanted to point out.

  “I usually do, Mother. But I’m too tired right now to go food shopping, and they’re too hungry to wait.”

  Emily nodded and touched her arm. “You get going. I’ll just stay a minute and finish my tea.”

  Lillian pursed her lips and stared hard at her older daughter. “You’d better be moving along, too, Emily. I’m going out.”

  Emily was instantly suspicious that this was just a trick to get rid of her. Lillian, feeling cornered, was trying to cleverly wriggle out of her grasp and escape a discussion of the unthinkable—hiring help to come into this house.

  “Where are you going, Mother? You never leave the house on Saturdays.” Unless one of us takes you out on errands, she added silently.

  “Not that you would know it, but perhaps I have a social life beyond the rounds of doctor visits and supermarkets, where you and sister escort me.”

  Not much beyond that, Emily wanted to correct her. The tactic was clear. Her mother was suddenly trying to portray the image of an active, independent person. Which they all knew was not the reality.

  Lillian rose and carried her teacup to the sink, which wasn’t easy, walking with a cane. “Ezra’s bridge club is short a hand, and he invited me to join them. They meet in a very nice club room at some senior living community . . . Happy Valley or some such? All those senior villages sound the same to me.”

  Happy Valley? Emily nearly laughed out loud. That said it all, though she doubted it was really the name of the place. “Sounds very nice,” Jessica said, helping Tyler with the zipper on his jacket.

  “They serve a decent buffet,” Lillian noted. “I’m just going as a favor to Ezra. There are some wretched card players in that bunch. I hope we don’t get a bad table.”

  Well, at least she would be with Ezra today. That was a comfort.

  “I’m sure Ezra appreciates your help,” Emily said. She picked up her purse and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Call me when you get back, okay?”

  “Do I have a curfew? Have I suddenly regressed to my teenage years?”

  “Mother, we just want to know that you got in okay,” Jessica explained. “Humor us, please?”

  “Yes, humor us,” Emily echoed, but in a much firmer tone.

  Lillian sighed. “I will call. And I’ll speak to a machine, I expect, since neither of you ever deigns to pick up the phone.”

  “Good-bye, Mother,” Emily said, heading for the door. “I’ll pick you up for church tomorrow at the usual time.”

  “Of course. Whenever that turns out to be,” Lillian grumbled.

  “Yes, see you tomorrow, Mother.” Jessica kissed her mother and gave her boys a look. Getting the hint, they politely said good-bye to Lillian. They were more than a little afraid of their grandmother. Lillian liked it that way, considering their apprehension a form of respect.

  Once they were outside, Emily stood at Jessica’s car for a few private words. “Well, what do you think? We didn’t get very far.”

  Jessica leaned into the backseat to make sure Tyler’s seat belt was secure. “I didn’t think we would, not on the first try.”

  “I know, but now that they’re really gone, it’s suddenly hitting me. She’s all alone in there. It’s just not safe, Jess. How can she argue with us about it?”

  “I’m worried, too. We definitely have to do something. But it will be easier for us, and for her, if we can get her to agree to some plan. Otherwise—”

  “Yes, I know. No point without her signing on.”

  Emily looked up to see her mother watching from the front parlor window. She waved, and the curtain quickly snapped back. Emily laughed. “We’re being spied on.”

  “She’s suiting up for a royal battle, that’s for sure.” Jessica slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the door. “You’ve had a hard day, Em. Don’t worry about any of this right now. We can’t solve it in one conversation with her. It will all work out—one way or the other. Let me know when Mother calls you later, okay?”

  “Yes, I will,” Emily promised, stepping back from the car.

  Jessica drove off and Emily headed for her Jeep. She and her sister were already working hard to manage their mother, and it had barely been an hour since Sara and Luke had left town.

  That was not a good sign. Not at all.

  CHAPTER THREE

  DAVID KNEW THEY WEREN’T MAKING NOISE ON PURPOSE. THEY weren’t intentionally trying to drive him crazy. But how long did it take for three people to eat breakfast and leave the house, for goodness’ sake?

  He lifted his head and peered at the clock on the nightstand. Half-past eight. If he were still in the army, that would be . . . the middle of the afternoon.

  But he wasn’t a soldier anymore. He wasn’t running on the army’s schedule. He wasn’t on any schedule. All he wanted to do was sleep, to sink into blessed, unconscious oblivion
.

  Was that so much to ask?

  Obviously it was, he realized as the door opened a crack, and his father stuck his head inside.

  “Oh, you’re awake. I thought you were still sleeping.”

  “I want to be,” David mumbled.

  “Sorry. I just wanted to see if you needed anything before we leave for church. There’s some coffee left. Want a cup?”

  “I can get it for myself later, Dad. Thanks.”

  His father paused and glanced at his watch. “The service doesn’t start till ten. Want to come? We can wait for you.”

  David shook his head. “No thanks. I’m just going to hang out here.”

  “Okay, sure. See you later.” Jack nodded and closed the door.

  David sank back into the pillows. A few minutes later he heard the sounds of the front door closing and his dad’s pickup driving away.

  He was glad his father hadn’t tried to persuade him. It was funny how fighting in a war zone had made him more inclined to think about spiritual things, to even say a prayer from time to time. But less inclined to go to church. Maybe it was because he just didn’t like the idea of struggling with the walker, everyone turning to look at him.

  He wasn’t ready for that.

  The house was so quiet. He could hear squirrels running around on the flat roof above his room, and water dripping into the kitchen sink.

  He didn’t think he would fall asleep again, but he did. Then suddenly, he woke up.

  Someone down at the tree farm was ringing the bell for service. It had been ringing a lot this weekend, ever since his father put it back together the day after Thanksgiving.

  David checked the clock. Ten thirty. The family wouldn’t be back until at least noon. The customers would have to wait until then. He sure couldn’t run out there to sell Christmas trees.

  The bell stopped. Then started again. David pulled a pillow over his head, but it was impossible to block out the noise. Finally, he gave up. The ringing had stopped but it was too late; he couldn’t sleep anymore.

  He sat up and flipped off the covers, feeling a sharp pain in his hip that radiated down his entire leg. He took a deep breath, then leaned over and grabbed the support he always had to wear now on his right leg due to the numbness in his foot. He strapped it on grudgingly. He knew it helped some, but he hated it, a daily reminder first thing in the morning that his body was damaged—probably irreparably.

  The custom-fit device was state-of-the-art, made of two thin, light plastic pieces that fit the front and back of his foot and lower leg, secured with Velcro straps. A thin layer of plastic covered the bottom of his foot, holding it at the proper angle. Since the nerves in that foot had gone numb after his last hip surgery, his body was no longer able to do this. So if, and when, muscle control in that area came back, his foot would not be damaged by dragging it.

  The house felt chilly. He pulled sweats over his boxers and T-shirt, then peered at his face in the bathroom mirror. He needed a shave but didn’t feel like bothering. He splashed his face with cold water and brushed his teeth. His army buzz cut had grown out, and his thick, dirty blond hair needed a real haircut, but he hadn’t made it yet to the barber.

  Out in the kitchen, he found the coffee and fixed a bowl of cold cereal. Katie’s brand. So sweet it made his teeth ache, but the box and bowl were right on the table. Proximity was all these days.

  He picked up a few sections of the newspaper, balanced them on the walker, and ambled into the living room.

  He was just about to sit down when a knock sounded on the front door. These people wanted their Christmas trees. They didn’t care how rude they were.

  David decided to just ignore it. They would go away eventually, like the bell ringers. Still, curiosity made him peer out the window to get a look. He tried to step back quickly but it was too late.

  She had seen him.

  Christine. She was at the door.

  What was she doing here?

  She knocked again, harder this time. Then she called out to him. “David? Are you there? It’s just me, Christine.”

  Just Christine? The two words were totally contradictory. At least, by his definitions.

  He let out a long breath and stood up straight. Would she go away if he said he wasn’t feeling well? Doing that meant he would have to talk to her, through the door. That seemed childish, weak. He didn’t want her to think he had turned into a complete invalid.

  At least he was dressed, sort of. He looked down at his bare feet and wished he had put on shoes. Too late now.

  He had to face her sooner or later. It was probably better to get this over with. Like yanking off a bandage. He looked like a slob, but maybe that was better, too.

  “Just a minute. Be right there,” he called back.

  He smoothed his hair down with his hand and headed for the door. He had been to war, for Christmas’ sake. He had fought in battles with bullets whizzing by his head and mortar explosions. But he suddenly felt he would rather face enemy gunfire again than open that door and face her.

  You can do this, he coached himself. It’s just . . . Christine.

  David settled the walker to one side of the door, then pulled it open. She stood in the doorway a minute and stared, taking him in from head to toe.

  It was just for an instant—a heartbeat, really—before her features relaxed into a smile. But that single, swift look spoke volumes. His appearance had shocked her. He looked worse than he thought, her reaction said. Much worse.

  He suddenly felt embarrassed. Why had he opened the door for her? He couldn’t remember now.

  “Hey, David. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by like this. I was on my way to town and I wanted to say hello. I called a few times, but I kept missing you.”

  “Yeah . . . I know. Sorry about that.” David didn’t know what to say. If she suspected that his father had been making excuses for him, she hid it well.

  “You’re up and around, I see,” she said cheerfully. “That’s good, right?”

  “I’m pretty mobile with this thing.” He slapped the side of the walker, which felt like a metal cage about then.

  “How do you feel?” she asked, her voice low and sincere.

  “Oh . . . coming along. I had a few operations. On my legs mostly.” He wanted to slap himself for going into that. She didn’t need to hear his medical history. He was starting to sound like an old man.

  “Yes, your father told me. At a hospital in Germany, right?”

  “That’s right. I was airlifted there after . . . after the army medical unit in Iraq.” He felt suddenly awkward, unsure of what to say or do next or how much to tell her. It had been a long time since he had been in the company of a girl.

  He looked up and forced a smile. “You look great,” he said sincerely. She did, too. She hadn’t changed a bit. Tall and slim with long blond hair, pulled back today in a ponytail. She had the best smile. He’d always thought so anyway.

  “How’s school going?” he asked her. A good topic to get into, instead of his ailments, he thought.

  “School is great. I’m just finishing my course work. Next semester, I’ll be student teaching. Then I’ll graduate.”

  She smiled at him, and he felt as if his heart stopped beating.

  Or maybe it was just that feeling he got, staring into her very blue eyes. As if time just stopped.

  She was prettier than he remembered. Beautiful, truly. Hard to believe now that back in high school, she had been his steady girlfriend. She only wanted to be with him, nobody else, though a lot of other guys had been after her. How had he been so lucky to have won her? What had she seen in him way back when? He had never been able to figure that one out.

  “Sounds great,” he said finally. He nodded and took a breath. “Sounds like you found something you really like to do.”

  “Yes, I did. I love teaching.”

  “You always liked babysitting. I used to come visit and help you, remember?”

  Christine laughed
. “Yeah, I do. You’d get me into trouble with the parents, usually. It’s not quite the same thing, David. But I’ve always loved kids. I wasn’t sure when I first started college what I wanted to do. Somehow, though, it all fell into place. Now all I have to do is find a job once I graduate.”

  She hadn’t mentioned anything about getting married this summer, he noticed. She had told him about her fiancé when he saw her last Christmas. He pushed that thought aside, unable to ask about those plans.

  “So, four years,” he said. “That went fast.”

  “It did, didn’t it?” She sounded wistful.

  He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was. Thinking back to their senior year in high school, the year his mother died and he ran away from home right after school ended. He had been at odds with his father all through high school, all through his mother’s long battle with cancer. Then one day, they’d had the usual argument—he couldn’t even remember now what they’d been shouting about—and he just up and left. Stopped at the bank in town, withdrew the pathetic amount in his account, and hitched a ride out of town with just the clothes on his back.

  “Some of it went fast,” he corrected himself. “The last year or so in the army . . . that didn’t exactly fly by for me.”

  Her expression grew suddenly serious. “I’m sure it didn’t. You were very brave, David, to enlist and go over there.”

  David felt the blood rush to his cheeks. Was he blushing, like a girl, from her compliment?

  “Brave? More like plain ignorant. I wanted to do some good, I guess. I didn’t know what I was getting into. Nobody does. You have some idea of what it’s like, what you’re going to do, and what you’re going to feel. The training is supposed to prepare you. But when you get out there, it’s a whole different ball game. It’s nothing like you see in the movies—or even on the news. There’s just no way to imagine it. . . .”

  He took a breath, realizing he was going off on a tangent.

  “I don’t think I could imagine it.” Christine’s voice was soft, understanding, the way it always had been.