Caleb's Christmas Wish

by Debra Salonen

Her question was lost to the loud wail of a small child in the background. “Ja...ake...”

  “Listen, Ally," he said his voice suddenly low and serious. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing for everyone, but playing the martyr to appease Cordelia isn’t in anyone’s best interest.

  “I love you, and we have a lot of things to talk about, but not on the phone. I’ll come see you when Caleb and I get back. Okay?”

  “But you haven’t told me where you’re going. What if I need...” she stopped as a beep warned her that the phone’s battery was low. “Jake, I’m fading here. I’ll call you from my house.”

  She pressed End and tossed the phone in her bag. She’d expected him to be angry, but once again he’d surprised her. He wanted to talk. After he took Caleb on a little trip. Where? Why? What was that all about?

  She looked out the window. Too many questions and not enough answers. But he was right about one thing, she was too tired to risk driving thirty miles. The fog was just a few condensation points away from turning to rain. The roads would be slippery.

  Despite the blast from the heater, the wet cold seemed to permeate her cashmere sweater, leaving her shivering from the bone out. She needed to lie down. Maybe this was another symptom of post-traumatic stress, she thought, as she put on her windshield wiper.

  “Home,” the squeaky noise seemed to say. “Home.”

  Cordelia stared blankly at the pages of the book on California history that Jake had given her for Christmas. Allison had left fifteen or twenty minutes earlier. She’d caught Cordelia sneaking a candy bar when she first walked in. As part of Cordelia’s new diet, she was supposed to cut back on candy, but her sweet tooth had gotten the better of her.

  Allison hadn’t said a word about it. Pam would have. Pam would have scolded her, as if she were the mother and Cordelia the child. It was times like that that made Cordelia understand what her friends had meant when they’d warned her not to move to California. “Living too close to your children will change your relationship—and not always for the good.”

  But for the most part, Cordelia’s move had been good. She and Pam had reestablished a closeness that had suffered greatly during Pam’s turbulent college years. Cordelia and George had been against their daughter dropping out of school to marry a drummer in a rock ’n roll band.

  Pam had spurned their offers of money and help. She’d been in love and she was certain love would provide for them. She’d been right. Love had given her and Kenny a good life. That had ended far too soon.

  Grabbing a dainty white handkerchief—a gift from Caleb, and of course, Allison—Cordelia dabbed her eyes. She missed her daughter. She missed her life. She was so angry most of the time she needed pills to help her sleep. She hadn’t even been able to see her daughter one last time before they buried her. How unfair was that?

  “Hello again,” a voice said from the doorway.

  Sniffling, Cordelia wiped her nose. “Oh. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Father Avila, the priest who’d visited her several times, walked into the room. He’d stopped by earlier looking very dapper in his street clothes. This time he carried a small paper sack.

  “I thought you had a wedding to attend.”

  He set the package on the table and removed his long gray wool coat, which he draped across the foot of her bed. Cordelia missed men in overcoats. You didn’t see that kind of outerwear in this climate much, she thought.

  “I’m headed there next. But I spoke with Allison a little while ago and she said she’d be over to see you. I thought you might need a sounding board to bounce ideas off after she left.”

  Cordelia wasn’t sure she knew what he meant, but his company was always welcome. Many of her friends visited on a regular basis, but they were mostly women. A man, even a man of the cloth, was a nice diversion. “Please, sit down. I was just thinking about my daughter.”

  “You miss her.”

  “So much I can hardly stand to open my eyes each morning. It would have been better for everyone if my heart attack had killed me.”

  He drew the extra chair closer to her and sat down. “You know that isn’t true, Cordelia. Jake and Allison would have been lost without your advice and counsel during the funeral. And think what that additional loss would have meant to Caleb.”

  “He has Jake and Allison. He doesn’t need me.”

  The father shook his head. “He had his parents for the first four and a half years of his life, but he still needed you. Grandparents are our link with a bigger world. He will need you for as long as you are on this earth, which—” he looked upward with a wry grin “—I have on good faith is going to be for quite a few more years to come.”

  Cordelia smiled. She couldn’t help it, but any respite from grief made her uneasy. Was she a bad mother for not mourning longer? All her friends told her she needed to fight to get well, but one part of Cordelia questioned whether or not that was fair to Pam. Could that ambivalence be the reason for her lengthy and difficult recovery?

  She needed answers. “Father Avila—”

  “Padre,” he corrected.

  “Ah, yes...Padre, is it right for a mother to resume her life so quickly after losing her only child? Allison just told me that she plans to stay in Fresno until I’m well enough to move back into Pam’s house with her and Caleb. She looked so sad and miserable when she said it, I’m sure I’ve ruined her life, too. I don’t want Allison and Jake, and, God forbid, Caleb to be unhappy, but I’m afraid that there won’t be a place for me if Jake and Allison become close.”

  Padre reached out and squeezed her hand. “Your fears are understandable. They’re tied to your loss, Cordelia. People who study these things say that three of the most traumatic losses a person can experience are the loss of a child, the loss of a spouse and the loss of one’s health.

  “You’ve just lived through all three. Plus, you’re worried about what will happen when you return home. Two relative strangers are living there now with your grandson. How will you fit in?”

  Cordelia tightened her grip on his fingers. Fear coursed through her veins like a shot of poison. Her throat was too tight to speak. She nodded.

  He patted the back of her hand. “I understand. So does Allison. That’s why she told Jake she wouldn’t return until you were with her. She told me she didn’t want to add to your pain. Do you know what I told her?”

  Cordelia moved her chin from side to side.

  “I said that your issues weren’t with her and Jake. Love is always a good thing. You know that. And if these two young people have fallen in love as deeply as I suspect they have, then they will provide the bedrock of a wonderfully happy family life for Caleb. Knowing how much you love your grandson, I’m certain you would never view that as a bad thing.”

  Shame swamped her. Had her fears damaged her grandson’s future?

  “No, Cordelia, your fears are tied up in what you perceive as failing your daughter. If you let Allison and Jake take over Caleb’s care, won’t the world believe that you let Pam down?”

  The pressure on Cordelia’s chest intensified. She tried to breathe through it as her therapist had coached her. “Would I?”

  Father Avila shook his head. “No, abuelita. No. Pam and Kenny chose Jake and Allison to be Caleb’s godparents. Not because they doubted that you could be a wonderful parent to their son, but because they knew you already had a job to do. You’re his abuela, his grandmother. That will never change.”

  Suddenly, Cordelia felt a lightness touch her. A sense of peace and serenity so pure she knew it had to come from Pam.

  Tears, healing tears, flowed from her eyes. Pulling at the corners of her wet hanky, she said haltingly, “Thank you.”

  The priest opened the paper sack and took out his gift. A brand-new package of men’s handkerchiefs. He ripped open the plastic wrapping and handed her one. “Those delicate feminine ones never seem to do the trick.”

  Cordelia’s laugh sounded odd to her ears, but welcome. So
very welcome. When she took a deep breath to blow her nose, the bands of tightness around her chest that had followed her since that morning when she learned of the accident were gone.

  She looked out the window. The sky was still gray and overcast, but she knew that brighter days were on the horizon.

  Jake was lucky. Traffic on Highway 99 wasn’t bad, except for a few tricky spots around Bakersfield and over the Grape Vine. The drive took longer than it might have if he’d been traveling alone, but he didn’t begrudge his passenger a few stops. Overall, Caleb had slept most of the time, his stuffed alligator under his arm.

  Once the Explorer descended into the basin that made up the fringe towns of Los Angeles, Jake’s memory kicked in. Images from his college days and living with the band filtered past the barricade he’d erected in his mind.

  Funny, he thought, the blackout of anything that had happened prior to his leaving for New York had hidden really good memories along with the bad. He decided to swing past the apartment complex that he’d lived in with Kenny and his band mates.

  The neighborhood looked much the same—a collection of cinder-block apartment buildings, each grouped around a pool. The landscaping had improved, and there were fences with locked gates now. That would have cramped our lifestyle, he thought with a grin.

  “Are we there yet?” Caleb asked.

  “Yep. We’re in the city. Are you hungry?”

  “Maybe. I guess. Can we have pizza?”

  Allison would probably roll her eyes. That didn’t sound like the best choice for a sick kid, but Caleb didn’t seem nauseated. “Sure. First we’ll find a motel, then we’ll get one delivered to the room and watch a movie. In the morning, I want to visit my brother.”

  There, I said it. His fingers tingled on the steering wheel. In the rearview mirror, he spotted Caleb’s surprised look.

  “Is he my age?”

  “Nope. Sorry, pal. He died a long time ago, when he was ten.”

  “He’s dead?”

  Jake nodded. “I haven’t visited his grave in a long, long time. Will you go with me?”

  Caleb nodded, but he didn’t look thrilled.

  Jake spotted a motel sign and turned on his blinker.

  “Did your brother go to heaven like my mommy and daddy?” Caleb asked somberly. “They died, too.”

  The car eased to a stop under the canopy. Jake turned off the engine then released his seat belt so he could look in the back seat. “I know. Maybe that’s why I’ve been thinking about Phillip so much. But the good thing about memories is that no matter how long ago someone died, they continue to live in our minds.”

  “And hearts,” the little boy said, pressing his hand to the center of his sweatshirt. “Ally said Mommy and Daddy will always be in here.”

  Jake quickly turned away. “Yep, that’s right,” he said, his voice husky. “Now, get your shoes on. The sooner we’re checked in, the sooner we can order our pizza.”

  Two hours later, a half-finished pizza and two empty soda cans crowded the small circular table by the window. Jake had forced himself to eat his share, but Caleb had barely picked at his.

  The poor kid might not have chicken pox, but he sure isn’t himself, Jake thought—just as a panicky cry rent the air.

  Jake flew off the bed and rushed into the bathroom to see what was wrong. Caleb’s pajama bottoms were pooled around his skinny little ankles and he was holding up his pajama top to display his midsection.

  “I got spots,” Caleb stuttered, fat tears spilling down his cheeks.

  Jake had to fight back a smile. The little tyke looked so cute. Jake would have given anything to have Allison at his side. The thought was in his head before he could block it. He missed her. He loved her, and even though he wanted to be mad at her, he wasn’t. He knew how much it had cost her to put Caleb’s and Cordelia’s interests ahead of her own.

  He dropped to his knees on the cold tile floor and helped Caleb pull up his pants, then hugged him. “It’s okay, buddy. Chicken pox is annoying as heck, but you’ll get over it fast. They say adults get it worse, so I’ll probably be itching like a dog with fleas in a day or two. Maybe we’d better make a quick trip to the pharmacy before bed.”

  “What for?”

  “Something to dab on the itchy places.”

  When they got back from the store, Jake made a game of covering each tiny inflamed spot with a pinkish liquid. A few minutes later, the little boy was sound asleep—alligator at his side. Jake changed into his sweats and crawled into the adjacent queen-size bed.

  He stretched out on his back with hands linked behind his head. He wondered if Allison had decided to spend the night at her home or if she’d returned to Kenny and Pam’s. He wanted to call her—just to hear her voice, but he didn’t want to risk waking her up. She’d sounded so weary. This had been a tough week for her and Jeffries Computing. Jake had tried to help out, but a part of him wondered whether she would be angry when she learned what he’d done.

  With a sigh, he snapped off the light and crawled under the covers. At least he felt better now than he had that morning. The flu-like symptoms had passed, and so far, he didn’t feel at all itchy. But who knew what tomorrow would bring?

  Allison walked into her silent, chilly house. It was stuffy and smelled faintly of cat. She wanted to crawl into bed and forget this day had ever happened. Tomorrow was the last day of the year, and frankly Allison was glad to see it end. She might not be bankrupt, but that was the only good thing she could say about this past month.

  And I fell in love.

  “Fat lot of good it did me,” she muttered, hurrying across the room to turn up the heat.

  One minute she was freezing cold, the next burning up. Aspirin, she thought. But a quick search in her bathroom produced zip. Apparently she’d packed more thoroughly than she remembered in preparation for her new tenants.

  She found one crinkled package of a cold treatment that required mixing with hot water. It promised to treat symptoms she didn’t have—like a stuffy nose, but at this point, she didn’t care. If it masked her aching muscles and the pain in her temples, she’d be happy.

  As she waited for a cup of water to heat up in the microwave, Allison checked her cell phone for messages. Just one. From her mother.

  Pling. Pling. The bell let her know relief was on the way. She ripped open the package with her teeth then stirred the powder in the hot water.

  She had to hold her nose to drink it. The flavor tasted vaguely like lemonade—combined with a little sink cleanser, she thought.

  Ten minutes later, she was curled up on the couch in her old flannel pajamas and the thickest quilt she could find. She reached for the television remote and knocked the phone off the hook instead. With a sigh, she decided to phone her mother since it wasn’t quite bedtime in Minnesota.

  “Ally, I’m so glad you called. We have news. We’ve sold the farm.”

  It took several seconds for the statement to register in Allison’s mind. “You can’t be serious. Dad always said you’d have to pry his cold, dead fingers off the wheel of his tractor.”

  Her mother chuckled. “I know, but this health scare really made him think. He’s farmed all his life and now, we’re going to play.”

  Play? Allison couldn’t make the word fit with the image she had of her parents. Her father with his muddy boots stomping across the yard, his hearty voice calling out to some kid, cat or cow to do what he wanted. Her mother tied to the boxy, two-story white farmhouse she decorated with crafts learned at her monthly Ladies Home Extension meetings.

  “Your brother will keep the farm, but the changes he has planned would drive your father crazy. We’ve bought a used motor home. We’re heading south in early March to visit friends in Arizona, then we’ll drive over to California. I can’t wait to meet Caleb and Jake.”

  Allison’s eyes clouded with tears and she swallowed. Apparently loud enough for her mother to hear. “What’s wrong, honey? You sound upset.”

  “I don
’t feel good.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not the chicken pox, is it?”

  “A cold or the flu. Aches and fever.”

  Her mother made a sympathetic sound. “Well, drink lots of liquid and let Jake take care of you.”

  “He can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m at my house. I was too groggy to drive up the hill,” she said, stretching the truth. She was groggy. Her head felt like a bowl of oatmeal. There would be time when she felt better to explain her decision. “I just took some medicine and I’m going to bed.”

  Her mother hesitated, as if reading something else into Allison’s explanation. “Well, that’s probably smart. You know your body better than anyone.”

  Her mother’s innocuous statement made her sit upright, but lights flashed like photo strobes around her head. She sank back down. “That’s true, Mother. I do know my body, but how come no one would listen to me when I wanted to save my baby? Back then, my opinion counted for squat.”

  “I...you...Allison, what’s wrong?”

  Tears filled Allison’s eyes and her nose started to run. “I’m sick. And alone. And Cordelia feels threatened by my feelings for Jake. She’s afraid of losing Caleb and is prepared to hire a lawyer to make sure she has some kind of custody.”

  “Oh, honey. I can see why you’re upset. Especially since you’re so in love with him.”

  Allison’s head spun. “How do you know that? I never said it. I haven’t even told Jake how I feel.”

  Her mother’s chuckle seemed bittersweet. “You’re my daughter. I know you.”

  A painful memory pressed upward, nearly choking her. “If you know me, then why didn’t you support me when I wanted to keep my baby? You...you sided with the doctors.”

  There. The words were out. Allison had been holding them in all these years. Her hurt, her feelings of betrayal. Wasn’t a mother supposed to support her child’s decision, back her up in times of crisis?

  “Oh, Ally,” her mother cried, “I’d have done anything to save your life. Anything. I’d make the same decision today.”