A Wish for Christmas

by Thomas Kinkade

  He had to admit, now that she brought it up, part of him would love to raise a child with Julie. He loved Kate with all his heart, but it would be different to have their own baby, a child they had brought into the world together.

  But there was another reason it didn’t seem right. The child he had already brought into the world.

  “What about David?” Jack asked. “He needs my help right now, more than ever. I’m not trying to find more excuses,” he assured her. “I just don’t know if I can have another child until David is better. I let him down once, you know? I have to be there for him now.”

  “I know.” Julie nodded.

  “Maybe I just need a little time with this idea,” Jack told her quietly. He reached across the table and took her hand. “That doesn’t mean it’s not ever going to happen.”

  “Fair enough,” she said with a small smile. But he could tell what she was thinking. Julie was in her late thirties, and she was wondering if they would miss their chance. He sighed. He couldn’t fix everything, could he?

  “I promise I’ll think about it. We’ll talk again,” he said quickly. “Once David is back on track.”

  “I understand, Jack. We’re a family now, and I care about David, too. I want him to get better and start living a full life again.”

  “I know you do.”

  “You may have made some mistakes when he was younger, but you’re doing your best now. You are making up for it. That’s what makes you a good father.”

  “Thanks. I’m trying,” Jack said.

  The bell sounded down at the tree farm. Jack looked at his watch. He was surprised they hadn’t heard it sooner. He hated to just rush off and leave Julie this way, but there didn’t seem much more to say on the subject.

  She rose first and went back to the sink. “You’d better get out there. I think you’re being summoned.” She looked over her shoulder at him with a smile. A small smile, but it made him feel much better.

  “Yes, it’s time. A few more days of this, then it will really be Christmas.” Before heading out, he stopped and kissed her on the cheek. She leaned into him a second, her hand on his hip.

  They would work this out. There was very little he wouldn’t do to make her happy, Jack thought, pulling on his thick work jacket and gloves. Including another run at fatherhood.

  DAVID HEARD THE BACK DOOR SLAM, HIS FATHER LEAVING THE HOUSE to open the tree stand. He rolled on his side in bed, just in case Julie peeked in to see if he was awake.

  They had obviously thought he was asleep in here all this time. Or had totally forgotten he could hear just about every word that was spoken in the kitchen, his room was so close.

  He had heard it all, starting with the pony debate. Leave it to Jack to think of that present.

  The rest of the conversation had been less amusing. If he’d had any doubts about it the last few weeks, it was pretty clear to him now. His presence here was definitely messing up his father’s new marriage and causing problems. He was an intrusion in their lives, plain and simple.

  Though she was always very kind to him, Julie must resent him. In a short and difficult time, they had forged a good relationship, David thought. But what could she think of him now? If he wasn’t around, she and Jack would be starting a family, and that seemed to be what she really wanted.

  His joking suggestion to Gena of getting a car and driving off somewhere didn’t seem so half-baked now. It would be better for everyone—Jack, Julie, even Christine—if he left again.

  Just like the last time, he had to get up and go, David decided. As soon as he was able.

  GRACE AND DIGGER HEGMAN ARRIVED AT THE CLAM BOX AT A QUARTER to twelve on Monday morning. They wanted to be sure to beat the lunch rush, so they could get their choice of tables.

  Tables by the window were always the first to go, Digger had reminded his daughter. He didn’t care if they had to start with breakfast and sit there all day.

  That would serve their purpose but probably draw suspicious attention, she told him. They wanted to see everything, but they didn’t want to give themselves away.

  Oh, it was a tricky business, Grace thought as they walked into the Clam Box. The red-headed Trudy had just started her shift, Grace noticed. She had made sure to surreptitiously find out the woman’s work hours and already knew Trudy would be here.

  When Trudy met them at the door and showed them to a table, Grace felt her heart jump into her throat. She was almost positive her father would give their plan away.

  “Well, hello, yourself,” Digger greeted the waitress. “How is it going for you? Having a good day?”

  Trudy handed them menus, glancing at Digger with a curious but tolerant expression. “Okay, I guess. For a Monday.”

  “Oh, Mondays ain’t so bad sometimes. Good things can happen on a Monday, too,” he told her. “Good luck doesn’t follow the calendar, you know.”

  Grace nudged him with her foot under the table. “Don’t mind him,” she whispered to the waitress. “My dad is getting on, you know.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. I think he’s sweet.” Trudy smiled and pulled out her pad and pencil. “Can I bring you folks some coffee?”

  Grace felt relieved by her cheerful tone. “I’ll take a cup of coffee, thank you. Tea for my father. We need a minute or two before we order.”

  “No problem. Be right back.”

  As soon as the waitress was out of sight, Grace leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice. “Just calm down now, Dad. Not another word to her, or we’ll have to go.”

  “For pity’s sake, Grace, I didn’t say anything wrong. She has no idea about us.” He glanced out the window and practically clapped his hands together with glee. “Look at that car. It’s a beauty, so shiny and clean. Wished we could have put a ribbon on it.”

  “There is a ribbon,” Grace whispered, holding up her menu so nobody could hear them. “On the rearview mirror, see?”

  “Oh, yes indeed, I see it now. Just perfect.” He looked back at her. “What time did you say the messenger was coming?”

  “I asked that he come at a quarter past twelve. But you can’t be sure. He might not be exactly on time.”

  Grace had thought of everything. They paid cash for the car and put the papers in Trudy’s name. Then Grace went over to Hamilton and arranged for a messenger to deliver their card, the car keys, and all the documents to Trudy here—while they were in the midst of their lunch, just like all the other customers.

  Grace just hoped that if her father did slip up, nobody would notice in all the chatter and excitement that would surely follow Trudy’s discovery.

  “Twelve fifteen. I got it.” Digger pulled his gold pocket watch from his vest pocket and checked the time. “We don’t have much longer to wait, do we?”

  “No, we don’t, thank goodness.” This one was the most difficult so far. Grace was glad their generosity would only extend over Christmas. Playing Santa Claus with her father was a bit exhausting.

  The bell over the diner entrance sounded, and both the Hegmans jumped in their seats. Grace turned to see who had entered. But it was only Reverend Ben.

  He greeted her with a wide wave then walked over to their table. Oh dear, he wasn’t going to sit here with them, was he? Not today, of all days.

  But she couldn’t very well refuse their minister.

  “Hello, Grace. Hello, Digger. Mind if I join you?” Reverend Ben asked politely.

  “Not at all, Reverend. Sit yourself down. We’d love to have a bite with you.” Digger slid over on the bench seat to make room for the preacher.

  Grace forced a smile. “We didn’t order yet. Here, take my menu,” she said, passing it over to him.

  “Thanks,” Ben said. “I’ve just been up to Southport, to visit Dr. Elliot,” he reported. “I brought Lillian Warwick. She’s staying up there all day.”

  “She seemed quite upset yesterday when she told the congregation about his heart attack.” Grace had known Lillian most of her life. She could rarely reca
ll the woman standing up in church to announce anything—good or bad—and had never seen her so emotional. After the service, during coffee hour, more people had commented on Lillian’s reaction than on the poor doctor’s situation.

  “How is he doing? Will he need an operation?” she asked Ben.

  “So far, the tests suggest he won’t need any procedures. It seems to have been a very mild heart attack, which was very lucky for him.”

  “Yes, very lucky,” Digger repeated. He grinned, and Grace could tell he was pleased to be able to repeat the word. “Well, I hope he comes home soon. Home in time for Christmas.”

  “Sounds like he’ll be released very soon,” Ben reported. “Maybe by tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that is good news,” Grace said sincerely. She hated the idea of anyone being in the hospital over Christmas. And Dr. Elliot was such a nice man. He had been their physician for years before he retired and handed his practice to Dr. Harding.

  Trudy walked toward their table, pad in hand, coming to take their order. But just before she reached them, the bell over the entrance sounded, and she turned to greet the new customer. Grace glanced over her shoulder, her heart thudding so loudly in her chest, she was sure Reverend Ben could hear it across the table.

  It was the messenger from Hamilton, no doubt. He spoke with the waitress a moment and handed her a big manila envelope—the one that Grace herself had personally packed and sealed. Trudy signed the receipt, and he was gone.

  Digger stared at Grace, his eyes bugging out of his head.

  She forced a smile, silently willing him not to give them away in front of Reverend Ben.

  “Looks like our waitress got sidetracked,” Ben said, glancing at his watch. “It’s slow in here today.”

  Digger just blinked, staring straight ahead. Grace sighed and drummed her fingers on the plastic-coated menu. “We didn’t even get our coffee yet,” she replied. “You can’t blame that poor waitress. She has to take care of everyone. Charlie Bates ought to get more help.”

  “That’s true. She does have a lot of ground to cover,” Reverend Ben agreed.

  Grace barely heard him, her gaze fixed on Trudy. She had opened the envelope, and now the key dangled from her hand. Her face was frozen in shock, her mouth gaping in awe.

  Ben waved his hand and called to her, “Miss? We’re ready to order?”

  Trudy held up her hand. “I’ll be with you in one minute, sir. . . . Just . . . one minute, please.”

  Then she dropped her order pad on the floor and ran out the door. Ben looked at Grace and Digger with surprise. “What was that all about?”

  “She got a bee in her bonnet,” Digger said with a short, sharp laugh. “Look at her out there.” He pointed out the window. “What’s she doing at that car? Running around it like a chicken with its head cut off.”

  Grace swallowed a lump in her throat. She didn’t dare speak. Her father was saying enough for both of them.

  Ben leaned over to get a better look. “Yes, I see her. Nice car,” he said mildly. “Pretty color.”

  Grace nearly said, “Thanks. I thought so.” Then caught herself. She just smiled. She had wanted a blue car for Trudy. She wasn’t sure why. It was just the way she had pictured it. She looked out the window now, too.

  Trudy had gotten out of the car again and was running back toward the diner.

  Oh, dear. This was it. She nudged her father again with her foot under the table and gave him a warning stare.

  Trudy burst through the door at just the same moment.

  All eyes in the diner turned her way. Charlie Bates, who had been back in the kitchen, stormed out of the swinging doors into the restaurant.

  “What the devil are you doing outside?” he demanded. “Don’t you see we have a dining room full of customers here, waiting for their food? That service bar is loaded—”

  “Someone gave me a car. A brand-new car. Well, almost new,” she clarified. “But it’s a good car. It even smells new inside and only has eight thousand miles . . . and the papers are all in my name . . . and here’s the key,” Trudy said, breathlessly, dangling it in front of Charlie’s nose.

  She turned around faced the dining room. “Do you see that car out there?” She pointed out the window. “The blue one? Someone gave it to me. Just for nothing. Just to be nice. Can you beat that? It’s just . . . amazing. I can’t believe it!”

  She had turned so that she was looking at their table now. She looked overwhelmed, Grace thought. The poor woman pressed her hand to her heart and looked as if she might faint.

  Reverend Ben jumped up from the table and ran over to her. “Sit down a minute, please.”

  Grace was greatly relieved when he led her to another table. If Reverend Ben had sat Trudy next to her father, that would have been the end of it.

  Another diner brought her a glass of water. Trudy fanned her face with a menu. “Was this an anonymous gift?” Grace heard Reverend Ben ask.

  “Sure was. Must be the same person who’s been giving people things all over town. Did you hear about it?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have heard.”

  Trudy pulled Grace’s card from her pocket. “Here’s the note. See? No signature. They just want me to enjoy the car and drive safely. And to have a very merry Christmas. I sure will now!”

  Ben took the card and looked it over. Grace feared for a moment that he might ask to keep it. As evidence. She didn’t think there was anything about the card that might give them away. It was just a note card she had taken from a box in her shop, nothing special. But that’s how people got caught, right? They didn’t realize they had left a clue for someone to find.

  All the customers in the diner were soon up and out of their seats and crowding around Trudy. Some asked to see the note. Others asked to see the car. Trudy went out to open it up and proudly showed it off.

  “Hey, what’s going on here? Don’t you want your food anybody?” Charlie chased after the crowd, carrying cheeseburger specials in each hand.

  He carried the dishes all the way to the open door but couldn’t lure his customers back inside. The place had emptied out, except for Reverend Ben, Grace, and Digger.

  Ben stood by their table, looking out the window. “The Secret Santa strikes again. Never seen anything like it,” he murmured.

  “Yes, he did.” Digger nodded heartily. “You never know when it’s going to happen. You never know to who . . . But we don’t want any thanks. That would ruin it.”

  “What are you talking about, Dad?” Grace countered, quickly trying to cover up for him. She hoped Reverend Ben hadn’t been listening to her father’s rambling confession. The Reverend looked deep in thought, staring at the blue car and the crowd outside. She couldn’t tell for sure if he had heard or not. She cast Ben a helpless glance. “I don’t think he should have waited so long for his lunch. He seems a bit light-headed.”

  Reverend Ben suddenly looked back at her. “What was that, Grace? Digger not feeling well today?”

  “He’ll be okay.” Grace smiled and rose, urging her father to do the same. “We’ll just get something to eat at home, Dad. I have to open the shop.”

  “The shop. Right. We have to open the shop,” he said to Reverend Ben. He stuck out his hand and Ben shook it. “You have a good day, Reverend. You know what I told that waitress when I came in here? I told her, good things can happen on a Monday, too. Luck doesn’t follow no calendar.”

  “That’s very true,” Ben agreed, looking a bit puzzled.

  “You’re darned right it is. The proof is in the pudding,” he said, pointing outside to the car. “The proof is in the pudding.”

  Grace tugged on her father’s arm and finally led him out the door. They could have crossed the street, but Grace could not resist walking past Trudy’s new car. The proud new owner still sat behind the wheel surrounded by a circle of admirers, asking her questions. A young man stood on the sidewalk, taking a photograph with a professional-looking camera. He looked like he was from
the village newspaper, the Cape Light Messenger, Grace thought. Someone must have called them.

  Grace twined her arm in her father’s as they strolled past and headed back to the Bramble.

  “I’d call that a productive morning, Dad.”

  “I’ll say it was. And we haven’t even opened the store yet.” He glanced at her and winked.

  Quite out of character, Grace winked back.

  ON SUNDAY, EZRA HAD BEEN MOVED FROM THE ICU TO A REGULAR room. Lillian had argued for a private room and even offered to pay the extra cost if his insurance didn’t cover it. Ezra had laughed at her. “Why must I have a private room, Lillian? Will it speed my recovery in any way?”

  “Of course it will. It’s more comfortable. More civilized.”

  He laughed again. “Oh, now I get it. I think the privacy angle is more for your benefit than mine.”

  “Nonsense,” she snapped. “You’ve just had a heart attack. You need your rest—peace and quiet—not extra germs from some stranger.”

  But he knew her well. Too well, it seemed at times. She abhorred sitting at a hospital bedside, and hated it even more when the person she was visiting shared the cramped quarters with some awful roommate and a huge, noisy family who paraded in and out, bringing in all kinds of germs, and pulling all the sitting chairs to their side.

  If she was going to endure during this crisis, Ezra had to have a private room. Lillian was glad she had won the debate, too. Ezra had only been in the hospital since Saturday night, but she had gone to visit him faithfully. By Monday afternoon, she was feeling a bit worn out and welcomed the quiet in his room. She sat by the window and worked on her embroidery in the last of the winter sunlight while Ezra took a nap.

  He had been taking a lot of those the last few days. His energy was low. It worried her. But he looked and sounded far better than he had when he had come in, so that was encouraging. The doctor would be by soon, she expected. He did his rounds just before dinnertime. Ezra was hoping Dr. Bourghard would say he could go home. She was not nearly as sure that he was ready.