The number jabbed Cordelia in the heart like a shard of glass. Had Pam suffered? Had she forgotten her seat belt and hit the windshield? Had she cried out in fear? Or in pain?
The gruesome possibilities wouldn’t quit playing in her mind. Along with questions. What would become of Caleb? I’m old. How can I give him the life his parents wanted him to have? Who would take care of Kenny’s business? What will we do for money?
The pressure on her chest increased; the dots were chased by black globs that terrified her. Was the blackness death?
The man at her side gripped her hand. Hard. “I’ve called for the paramedics. They’ll be here soon. Breathe slowly. Deep, steady breaths.”
Cordelia wanted to say, “Get real” – one of Pam’s favorite comebacks. But she couldn’t get the words out. Her mouth wasn’t responding. Her voice was gone. She knew she was losing consciousness.
Was this the end? One part of her welcomed the idea. She’d been alone a long time. She was ready to join George. And, now, Pam would be there, too. The beautiful daughter, who’d brought such joy to her life. How could Cordelia go on without her?
“Cordelia. Cordelia? Can you hear me? Oh, please, don’t do this.”
The voice was familiar.
Pam?
Reaching deep inside, Cordelia found the strength to open her eyes, only to be engulfed by disappointment. Brown hair, not blond. Allison, not Pam. But the look of distress on Allison’s face touched her.
Poor girl will be lost without Pam. That’s when it hit her. If something were to happen to Cordelia, Allison would be left to take care for Caleb alone. Ally, who obviously adored her godson but didn’t know beans about child care. If not Allison then…Cordelia couldn’t think of Caleb’s godfather’s name, at first. Then it came to her. Jake. Jake the Rake, as her son-in-law jokingly referred to his best friend. Jake Westin. He would be raising Cordelia’s grandson.
“Cordelia, please,” Allison said, leaning close, her voice a low, desperate whisper. “Please try to hang on. Caleb needs you. I need you.”
In the distance, the sound of a siren grew louder. Cordelia hated hospitals, but she’d do whatever it took to be there for Caleb. He was all she had left.
Fear and compassion warred inside Allison. The sound of the siren was growing closer, but Allison was afraid it wouldn’t reach them in time. Beneath her perfect makeup, Cordelia skin looked ghostly white. Her lipstick was smeared at the corner of her mouth—not something Allison had ever seen before. Her lips moved, though no sound came out. Allison squeezed the older woman’s hand. “Hang on, Cordelia. Help is on the way.”
Allison looked at the deputy for reassurance.
“Any second.”
The small black box on his shoulder squawked. He stood up and hurried to the front door. One hand on the walkie-talkie, he mumbled something Allison couldn’t interpret clearly. But she did hear the words “possible heart attack.”
She turned her attention back to Cordelia and gripped her hand with her own. “I know this is asking a lot, Cordelia. You’ve just been given the most horrible news imaginable, but I’m begging you, stay with us. Caleb needs you to be here for him. You can do that, can’t you?”
Tears swamped her again, choking off her words. She was failing. If Cordelia died…Allison’s mind shut down. She couldn’t go down that unthinkable path. She had to believe that Pam’s mother would pull through.
Two strangers in black jumpsuits suddenly rushed into the room. Each carried a bulky bag of equipment. The two paramedics—a tall, thin man and a much shorter, rounder woman—advanced on the couch. Allison scrambled to get out of the way.
Cordelia’s eye lids fluttered and a scary sound came from her lips. Allison couldn’t bear to watch, nor could she let Caleb see whatever lifesaving procedures they needed to employ.
She looked toward the corner of the room where she’d first spotted the little boy when she’d come in. Sure enough, a small figure peeked around the edge the chair, fingers gripping the polished cotton fabric is if to pull it around him for protection.
Caleb Rydell. Allison’s four-year-old godson. Pam and Kenny’s only child. Their first child, they were fond of saying. The thought hit her like a slap in the face, but she clamped down on her emotions. Get a grip. You can do this.
Instinct told her to pick him up and reassure him that everything was going to be okay, but she didn’t want to add to his confusion by acting out of character. Pam was the touchy-feely one, Allison the reserved, analytical type. When Pam read to her son, the two were so entwined it was hard to see where one body quit and the other took off.
She had no idea what to do, but she had to try. Poor little kid must be scared out of his mind. She crossed the room and knelt down on one knee, peeking behind the chair. “Hi, honey. Lots of stuff happening this morning. Noisy. Kinda scary. Are you okay?”
Caleb scooted as far back as he could go. He kept his gaze on the object in his hand. His little fingers gripped the truck so tightly his knuckles showed white against his skin. But he acknowledged her question with a nod.
“I’m glad you’re okay, but I’m not doing so hot. Do you suppose you could give me a hug?”
He looked at her. Suspicious or just surprised? She couldn’t tell. But being the kindhearted kid his mother and father had raised him to be, he put down the metal truck so he could crawl toward her.
She opened her arms and gently hugged him, wishing she had the power to teleport them both to a place where none of this was happening.
“Thank you,” she said, rising with Caleb still in her arms. He seemed far lighter than she remembered. “I needed that.”
When he tried to see over her shoulder, she started toward the kitchen. “I don’t know about you, but I could use something to drink.”
His body craned to keep Cordelia in sight, but Allison shifted him to the other hip. “Don’t worry,” Allison said, trying to get him to make eye contact. “Grandma’s going to be fine.” I hope. “She was having trouble catching her breath. That’s why Officer Deese came.”
That seemed to make sense to him. “Policemen are good helpers,” he said, as if challenging her to dispute the fact.
“Exactly. Paramedics and firefighters, too. Your mommy told me you got to touch a real fire truck. I’ve never done that.” Allison had no idea if her blather was helping, but when Caleb suddenly wiggled to be released, she stopped and bent over until his feet touched the tile floor.
“Did you just get up?” she asked, noticing his footed, one-piece blanket sleeper. The much-washed Spider-Man print looked a little snug on him, which reminded Allison of a conversation she’d had with Pam the day before. Apparently, his parents had been concerned that Caleb wasn’t growing fast enough.
“Thank heavens for his recent growth spurt,” Pam said. “I want to get him a bike for Christmas, but Kenny thinks he’s still too little.” She’d made a silly face and rolled her eyes. “And they say mothers are overprotective.”
“Well, he is only four,” Allison had replied. She often found herself siding with Kenny on parenting issues. Pam’s style of mothering was far more casual than Allison’s would have been. Not that Pam was anything short of wonderful as a mother, but she let Caleb explore beyond the parameters Ally would have considered safe.
“Four and a half,” Pam had corrected. “And it’s a teeny-weeny thing. Metallic purple motocross. I can’t wait to show it to Kenny. He’ll give in eventually. He always does.”
Allison had made some comment about finding it ironic that Kenny, a former rock-and-roll band member, had turned out to be the more conservative parent of the pair.
“I know. Isn’t it a hoot?”
The two had laughed, but later on the drive home, Allison had wondered what kind of parent she would have made. Her child would have been nearly nine, if she’d gone ahead with the pregnancy. But instead, she’d caved to the pressure from her doctors, her husband and her family. She’d agreed to abort the fetus that was gr
owing inside her so the doctors could start an aggressive treatment to remove the cancerous tumor they’d discovered while doing an ultrasound.
“You’ll still have one ovary,” the doctor had told her, as if that made the culling of one ovary and one life acceptable. “You’ll still be able to bear children in the future. But if we don’t operate now, there’s a chance this cancer will metastasize. Both you and the baby could die.”
At the time, she’d believed them, but in the dark days that followed, all Allison knew for sure was that she’d had her chance and blown it.
Now, through the worst circumstances imaginable, she was being given a second chance to step into motherhood. Only the child in question was far more real than an hazy smudge on an ultrasound image.
Allison watched Caleb climb onto one of the padded stools at the counter. “What would you like to drink? Chocolate milk?”
“Okay.”
She loved Caleb, but he seemed to reserve his effusive hugs for his mother, father and grandmother. Allison figured she was to blame for that. When he was first born, she couldn’t hold him without crying. Both Allison and Pam had agreed that wasn’t good for a baby. So, gradually, she became the friendly aunt who brought fun presents and came for every family gathering but didn’t kiss him too much or hug him too tight.
She walked to the refrigerator. The sight of a half-eaten, foil-wrapped turkey on the top shelf made Allison’s stomach heave and her eyes fill with tears. Pam had been so proud of her perfect Thanksgiving feast.
Pretending to search high and low for the individual bottles of chocolate milk, she stalled long enough to get her emotions under control. Finally, with an artificial flourish, she handed Caleb a brown –and-white container. “Need help opening it?”
“No.” Even as a toddler, he had preferred to do things himself.
“How ‘bout a piece of toast?”
“Waffles?”
Waffles? Her heart skipped a beat as she pictured her mother in their old farmhouse kitchen whipping up a vat of batter with a wire whisk. On the counter, their ancient waffle iron would sit with its thick, frayed cord plugged into a socket. Allison had unplugged it once with wet hands and received a shock she’d never forgotten. She hadn’t eaten waffles since.
Caleb slipped off the stool and walked to the freezer, which was the lower half of the refrigerator. From a pullout basket, he withdrew a cardboard box. “Blueberry. My favorite.”
Relief washed over her. “Excellent choice,” she said, taking the box from his hand. “Where’s the toaster?”
He looked skyward as if asking God for patience – a gesture that was pure Pam. “In there.” He pointed to a paneled box on the center island. The built-in unit offered her a choice of a mixer, a blender or a four-piece toaster.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot.”
He returned to his seat and opened his milk.
While the two little squares cooked, Allison moved from one side of the kitchen to the other trying to remember where Pam kept the plates, the silverware, and the syrup. Normally, this wouldn’t have been a challenge, since she knew her way around quite well. But one part of her brain was trying to decipher what was going on in the living room.
When she set the bottle of syrup on the counter, Caleb said testily, “Not syrup. Peanut butter and honey.”
Allison smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Of course. How silly of me to forget. And where do I find that, young master?”
Grinning, he pointed to the cupboard to the right of the gleaming six-burner gas stove.
She’d just set the plate in front of him when she noticed Officer Deese motioning to her from the hallway. The grim look on the young deputy’s face didn’t bring any relief.
“Caleb, I’ll be right back. I’m going to see if Grandma or the officer wants coffee.”
“Mrs. Wells is in cardiac arrest,” the man said when she reached him. His tone was urgent, his frown grave.
Allison put her hand on the wall for support. “Is it bad?”
“Hard to say. We’re transporting her to Fresno. Could you find her doctor’s name? We need to know if she has any allergies or preexisting medical conditions.”
Luckily, Pam often vented about her mother’s health issues – both real and imagined, so Allison knew Cordelia’s primary physician’s name. Officer Deese called it in on his walkie-talkie.
“As for allergies…I don’t know…I’m just a friend.”
“I understand. Do you know of anyone else we should contact? In case…well, just in case.”
In case of emergency, call Jake Westin. She’d heard Kenny say that just a few weeks ago, but she couldn’t remember the circumstances behind the statement. Jake was Caleb’s godfather. A man she’d never met, although she’d seen many photos of him since he’d accompanied the Rydells on their annual family vacation last August and had taken Caleb on a side trip to Disney World so Pam and Kenny could have some quality time alone.
The Florida trip. She’d been invited, but had been called home to attend her grandfather’s funeral, instead. Looking through their vacation photos, Kenny had remarked, “I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet Jake. He’s a helluva good guy. I’d trust him with my life. He’s the brother I never had.”
Allison had two sisters and a brother, and while she loved them, she was far closer to Pam than she was to any of her siblings, who still lived within five miles of the family farm.
“Cordelia is pretty much all the family Pam has…um, had,” she said, trying to stay focused. “Kenny has a cousin who works for him at Rydell Motors, but I think the person they’d want notified right away is Caleb’s godfather, Jake Westin. He lives in Miami. I’ll call him as soon as…”
Behind them, two paramedics entered the foyer pushing a lowered gurney. The wheels made a loud, clattering sound on the tile.
A second later, the ping of silverware dropping reminded her that she’d left Caleb in the kitchen. She heard the plastic soles of his sleeper shuffling against the flooring as he came to see what was happening.
Allison didn’t know exactly what to tell him. How much would a four-year-old understand? She had to assume that he hadn’t been told about his parent’s accident, and she had no intention of bringing that up just yet.
Feeling totally out of her league, Allison decided to try honesty. “Grandma Cordelia needs to go to the hospital.”
His eyes grew wide. “Why?”
“She was having trouble breathing. These people are going to take her in the ambulance so the doctors can make her better.”
“Can I ride in it?”
“The ambulance? No. But we can follow right behind.”
His sticky, peanut-butter bracketed lips pouted a moment then he asked, “Can we go fast? Jake has a fast car.”
She wasn’t surprised. According to Pam, Jake was living la vida loca in Miami. Allison was quite sure her practical station wagon wouldn’t impress Caleb—even with its all-wheel-drive.
She changed the subject by telling Caleb he couldn’t go anywhere if he didn’t get dressed. Fast.
Allison let him select his own clothes–a bright green T-shirt with a gruesome-looking superhero on it. After a hunt that included moving his molded red race car bed, she found a matching pair of sneakers. The socks were different colors–purple and black--but she wasn’t as particular as Pam.
In fact, on those rare occasions when she went to a party, Ally had to ask for Pam’s help picking something to wear. Unfortunately, they couldn’t share many items because Pam was a petite blonde with a to-die-for-figure; Allison had a “utilitarian” body.
“A draft horse versus a Thoroughbred,” she’d once said.
Pam had insisted that wasn’t true. “I’m short and round. You’re willowy and svelte, like a runway model.”
The brutal reality of the enormity of her loss surged again, but Allison avoided thinking about it by scrambling to her feet to hunt for Caleb’s jacket.
“Ready?” she asked, he
r tone bleak to her own ears.
Caleb hesitated as if waiting for her to say or do something.
“Um…you look good?” she tossed out.
He put his hands on his hips. “You’re supposed to ask if I need to go to the bathroom,” he said with an exasperated huff.
“Oh. Well, I figured if you needed to go, you’d tell me.” She waited. When he didn’t move, she added, “Do you?”
He nodded, then marched off to his private bathroom. She followed but stopped short of the door, unsure whether her help was required. Did children his age prefer privacy? Why hadn’t she paid closer attention to how Pam had handled things these past four and a half years?
She decided to wait for his call. It didn’t come. A minute or so later, he returned. And held out his hands as if she were expected to inspect them. They may not have been perfectly clean, but they looked dampish.
“Close enough. Let’s go.”
“Wait. My toys. And juice. And books. Mommy always takes stuff along in case. When’s Mommy coming home?”
“In case of what?” Allison asked, ignoring his direct question. That avoidance strategy wouldn’t work for long, but she knew she had to stall until they learned whether or not Cordelia was going to be okay. How much bad news could anyone take?
He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “In case.”
While Caleb stuffed toys, books and various necessities into a small red suitcase on wheels, Allison checked on the progress of the paramedics, who were just strapping an unconscious Cordelia unto the gurney. A clear sack of fluid was attached to her arm by a needle. Thick blankets covered her lower body, but the woman’s chest was exposed just short of immodesty. An array of wires sprouted from her like something in a horror movie.
Allison guided Caleb to the garage. “We need to move your car seat from your mother’s car to mine,” she said, firmly. “Can you show me how? I’ve never actually done this. Only watched the expert.”
Doing something—anything—and knowing Caleb was watching helped stave off the pain that still gnawed at her insides. The actual transfer was less of an ordeal than she’d expected, but the scent of Pam’s perfume was almost more than she could take. If not for Caleb’s close scrutiny, she would have crawled into the back seat, closed the door and wept.
Caleb's Christmas Wish Page 2