Paper bag in hand, Pam continued slowly down the sidewalk, stopping to gaze at the window decorations the proprietors had taken out of mothballs to add to the illusion that the Christmas season had indeed landed in Cedar Springs prematurely.
When the post office came into view Pam wondered if the staff at the nursing home in San Diego, where a relative now lived in full-time care, had reminded the woman of this special weekend in Cedar Springs. Aunt Teresa always sent cards to her, for this and that, as she seldom got out anymore, the sad life of an Alzheimer patient. Marie Legend was her only surviving relative. When her parents died, the responsibility and privilege to keep in touch with the aging patient had fallen on Pam. Since moving to Cedar Springs, they’d discovered it was easier to keep in touch by mail. In the delivery-box, they were writing-buddies, whereas hearing her voice on the phone or a face-to-face visit had demanded recognition. That would always set off the disturbing and stressful behavior that no one needed.
Pam placed her hand on the door handle when she heard someone calling from behind. “Doctor wait up.” She immediately recognized John Doe’s voice and turned to greet him.
“Good morning, John. I see you are still with us,” she said.
“Your friend Tom is treating me like a king and I’m helping him out some. He says I’m a gift from heaven, sent in his time of need.”
“Well, I thank you then. Denise worries about her husband. He works so hard to make his guests feel welcome.”
“His guests… well, that’s a nice label for the folks that wander through his door every day.”
“He is a generous man, and we all appreciate the work he does. Someone needs to care for the homeless.”
“Suppose that description includes me. Joined the ranks of Cedar Springs by accident.” John snickered at his play on words. “Or maybe I’ve always been homeless – wiped my mind clean of all my past pain and living happy and content on the streets.” He looked embarrassed. “Sorry, that sounded downright poor-in-the-mouth and disrespectful. I’ve met lots of these folks since I moved in and I’m thinking there is always something to learn from another human being.”
Pam smiled. “Good conclusion.”
“Let me get the door for you,” he volunteered as he opened it wide then stood to the side to let her pass in front of him.
“Just checking to see if I got any Christmas cards,” Pam said.
“Think that might be a stretch? Anyone who does not turn at exit 53 into Cedar Springs will not even know Christmas is on the remake.”
“You just never know. I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Claus do not take a break from planning all things Christmas.”
John’s face turned ashen, and I reached out to steady him. “What is it? Are you having a memory flash?”
When he turned my way he asked, “Do you have a Christmas store in this town?”
“Yes, I’m headed there after I check the mail. Wait, and I’ll walk with you.”
John held his position at the door, as Pam moved toward the counter. “Any mail for me, Jane?”
“You know there is. Your Aunt Teresa has never missed one week in three years.” She passed Pam a stack. “And a few more, I’m afraid – bills.” Pam turned to leave. “Hold up, Doctor Legend. There’s a parcel for you that the entire staff is talking about.”
They waited for Jane to return. When she passed the package over, she grinned. “It’s from the Arctic Circle – the North Pole to be exact?”
Pam shook her head while staring at the return address. “Okay, who’s playing pranks now? Is it Sam because I wouldn’t increase the dosage on his prescription for painkillers?”
“No. Sam knows you called him right on that one. He was gobbling them pills up too fast. Getting addicted, pure and simple. We all warned him, but thanks to you, he’s finally listening.” She tapped the parcel in Pam’s hands. “Funny thing is, you were the only one who refused to place a letter in Santa’s mailbox, and now you’re the only one with a gift from the jolly duo. Doesn’t sound fair, if you ask me,” Jane said adding a pout for effect.
“The Santa mailbox is a fun exercise for kids – not adults,” Pam said, trying to explain her opposition to the idea. Yet, here she stood holding a box with the sender postmarked as from the North Pole. Did they even have mail service there? “Someone is having fun at my expense and when I find out who, they will be sorry.” She glanced behind her and noticed John’s face was as white as a sheet.
Pam hurried to the door where he leaned against the doorway. “John, you may suffer heat stroke standing in the hot sun? Listen, I need to drop off my parcels. Let’s slip by my apartment. I mixed some fresh ice tea this morning. A cold refreshment will do us both good.”
John never spoke but allowed her to usher him out the door. Great! Now she was bringing a stranger home. Not a well thought-through plan.
In Pam’s apartment, he sat on the couch, still quiet and unresponsive. She placed her baked goods and the parcel on the island counter and hurried to the refrigerator. Moments later, she brought two full glasses of ice cold tea into the living room. He hadn’t moved. So much for worrying about a killer in her midst.
“Drink it, John.” Pam watched as he lifted the glass and gulped a mouthful, and then another. When he’d drained the tumbler empty of its contents, he continued to hold it tightly in his grip and stare at the floor.
“John, say something. I know you can hear me.”
“Is the North Pole far from Cedar Springs?”
Pam nearly choked on her first sip. “It’s very far. Why do you ask?”
“Your parcel came from there, right?” he asked.
“I suppose so. But few live that far north – just scientists, explorers, and crazy workers who want to earn their life’s wages and retire by forty.” Pam laughed. “And perhaps the mythical Santa Claus, if you’re a die-hard believer of such things.”
John glanced quickly in her direction. “Santa is mythical, you say?” He hesitated. “Of course, he is. Perhaps I just heard the name mentioned as a kid?”
“Possibly. Most homes have a little fun playing up the story of the jolly man dressed in red.” Pam noticed his flighty eyes focus and his fingers loosened the grip on the drinking glass. She focused on his new interest, hoping to spark a clue as to his identity. “You seem attracted to all things Christmas. How about we go to the Boutique? They have it decked out extra special for the weekend event.”
“I need to be at the center to help serve the dinner by four,” John said while struggling to his feet. His balance was off.
“Has your head been giving you more trouble since you left the hospital?”
“I need to get a grip, that’s all! This memory thing is taking a toll on my good sense if I ever had any.”
“I’m also helping at the center, John,” Pam said. “So we may as well spend the afternoon together – if you’d like.”
John ran his fingers through his hair. “Are you doing this out of pity, Doc? I don’t need your pity.”
“That’s the first thing you’ve been sure about all week. There may be hope for you yet.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly when he noticed Pam wasn’t giving in to his mood. “Enough of your self-bashing. I want to see more of those dashing smiles that light up your entire face, not ones that verge on poor-miserable-me. So, let’s be off.” Pam was rambling now. Was she nervous? Regardless of her source, the spiel continued. “I can spend hours in the Christmas store. It’s such a magical place.”
“Tom’s wife runs it, right?” John asked.
“Yes, Denise is my best friend.”
Along the way, Pam pointed out different things of interest to John to distract him and keep his mood positive. For the hundredth time, she wondered why she cared so much to see this patient’s memory return. She reasoned that common decency would be a good start. No one should abide in the dark with no past to lead his path into the future. Ten minutes later they entered the store, and the jingle of the bell over the door
way announced their arrival.
“Pam,” Denise said as she dropped her scissors and rushed over. “I am so glad you popped in here before heading to the center. I have a new shipment of unique Christmas items I am dying to show you.”
Pam nodded toward the man standing at her side. “Denise, you’ve met John, haven’t you?”
“Yes, he’s staying in the storage room at the center, and I walked in on him once without thinking. Embarrassing!”
John intervened. “I was reading – no need for embarrassment. Besides, it’s not like I’m paying rent. And the room is not mine entirely. I share it with all the other stuff that has no permanent home anywhere else in the facility.”
“I am grateful to you, and that’s as good as rent money. I enjoy more time with my husband since you pitched in to help. Tom wonders how he ever stayed ahead of the job before you arrived. If you play your cards right, he may even offer you a position.”
John appeared surprised. “Helping folks comes naturally. I don’t need money to show kindness. Besides, who knows – I may discover that I’m the right-hand man to the President and he is ravaging the countryside looking for me as we speak.”
Pam laughed. “John, you are an interesting character, and the Whitehouse could certainly use your sense of humor to brighten their day. So, here’s hoping their search extends to Cedar Springs.” She grabbed Denise’s hand. “Meanwhile, onward to the new treasures. John, why don’t you look around and enjoy the spirit of Christmas in this place.”
The women had their heads buried in a box when Denise asked. “Oh, by the way, did you get your parcel from the Post Office? Everyone is talking about it.”
“Figures that everyone knew before I did. Typical Cedar Springs.”
“The return address is the North Pole,” Denise said with a giggle. “You must know how curious that makes people.”
“I picked it up this morning, but I had John with me so I just dropped it off at the apartment. As you can see, I am not nearly as curious as you.”
“Who do you know up north?”
“Stupid question. I come from the south.”
“Wrong. Your parents raised you in the south. Maybe Santa delivered you to them in a basket. Did you ever ask?”
“That’s ridiculous. I only found out on my father’s deathbed that his deceased wife, the woman I called Mom all my life, was not my birth mother. But the woman exists somewhere! Of course, you already know that, don’t you, Miss Smarty?”
“True. I also know your dad never told you why she left or if the original family had its beginnings in San Diego. My theory with Santa still holds.” Denise appeared smug as she relayed her latest version of Pam’s life prior to Cedar Springs.
“Father was tight-lipped about his first wife, even at his deathbed confession. Said if I needed to know anything the woman would surely land on my doorstep as quick as she’d left. Then he died, and I was alone.”
“So sad. My dearest friend – all alone in the world.” Denise’s words dragged out and Pam couldn’t figure if she were playing with her, or if she really felt sorry for her lack of family.
Pam decided on the latter. “Not true. I have you and Tom. And look at all the many friends I’ve made in Cedar Springs. I consider myself a regular resident of the mid-west. Now and forever.”
“Forever is a long time.” Denise giggled. “And just to let you know, there is nothing regular about you, my friend. You add a touch of class to Cedar Springs with your California upbringing, and now we learn of well-wishers sending gifts from the North Pole.” She whistled playfully and nudged Pam.
“Enough with the crazy. I’ll open the gift tonight and call you.”
“Better yet, I will follow you home when we’re done at the center and check it out for myself.”
“Fine. Now can we get back to decorations?” Pam reached down and pulled out an angel tree topper. The figure sat casually in Santa’s sleigh. It appealed to her. “Now there’s a mixed up duo if I ever saw one.”
Both women laughed. Denise’s eyes twinkled with mischief, and Pam cried out, “You, Denise Jenkins, are hopeless.”
“What? Santa’s sleigh flies to the North Pole, and now an angel is along for the ride! Choosing that particular ornament gives us insight into your psyche. Maybe your subconscious mind picking this adorable messenger is divine providence – this angel sent here to Cedar Springs to guide you back to your roots.”
“You can spin a yarn, woman,” said Pam. “Save your far-fetched speculations for another sucker.”
“It’s the nature of the beast in me.” Denise laughed.
“Denise Jenkins, I am in Cedar Springs to stay. Perhaps someday I’ll search for my real mother. But not today! Now, let’s drop my sadly lacking heritage once and for all.”
“Drop what?” asked John as he came up behind us.
“Not this angel, that’s for sure,” said Denise.
“Are you ready for a sweet treat and tea before we head over for supper duty?” Pam asked.
Denise jumped to her feet and dragged them to the café portion of the store. “I have the perfect one. The baker’s new Cookie recipe is to die for.” She laughed and held her hands up in defense. “And you can’t blame me, Pamela Legend, that today’s theme is the entire North Pole collection, adorned with sprinkles and yummy gummies. I’m thinking the woman must know something we don’t know.” She pointed to Santa’s sleigh. “I think that one has your name on it.”
“Wrong! I’ll take that little green elf,” Pam said.
“Spoilsport.” Denise filled a serving dish with a small variety of cookies – including a sleigh, an angel and the elf – and handed the plate to her friend.
Pam turned to face John. He’d stopped goggling the plate of goodies and was following with keen eyes the escape of the baker as she disappeared behind the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.
“Now what are you thinking?” Pam asked.
John’s eyes returned to the platter and then to Pam. “I’m deliberating. Everything looks scrumptious. I want to go, find that baker, and force her to tell me her secrets.” When Pam and Denise appeared somewhat surprised, he announced with a shrug of his shoulders, “Maybe I am a baker in my former life?”
“The idea of John-the-baker would not surprise me one bit,” Pam said. “He has a sweet tooth like none other.”
Denise left to fix the drinks while John and Pam moved to a table. They dove into the snack. A long evening spread out before them. This was a night to make the homeless feel valued, and point them to the reason for the season – God’s gift of love in the form of a baby boy. Santa would make an appearance with gifts donated from the benevolent fund at a local church. That was always a hit. The center served up a well-rounded program of fun, food, and fellowship – a popular recipe mix for all.
The center had its most significant turn out of the year, new volunteers snatched from the highways and the byways of Cedar Springs to help with the event. The recipients were polite and showed gratitude for the efforts to make them part of this Christmas in July event. When Santa arrived with his merry, ho-ho-ho, dragging a red bag stuffed with gifts, Pam witnessed the down-and-out of society wipe their tears of betrayal away. It was difficult for them to show emotion. As a finale, the Baptist church presented of the story of Jesus, and many stayed behind to talk to the actors.
Denise and Pam, elbow deep in soapy dishwater, booed John as he brought in more dirty dishes. He ignored the women and began to pile the washed table servings onto trays to go through the sanitizing and rinsing machine. Soft strands of holiday music filled the air. None of the workers felt the need to talk, all overflowing with emotion and physically on the brink of exhaustion.
It was nine o’clock when Pam walked out the door of the center with Denise and Tom. John was on the inside and locked the door behind them. He waved, and Pam saw a peace on his face that had been absent since they’d met. Tomorrow she’d come by and see if the day had sparked any memori
es for him. She hoped so, for his sake.
“I know I said I wanted to come to your place and be nosy, but I’m exhausted. Can I pop in tomorrow morning before I open the store?” Denise asked.
“I’ll have the coffee ready for 8:30, although I was planning to sleep in tomorrow.” A smile teased at the corners of her mouth. She was lousy at deception.
“You never sleep in, Pamela Legend.”
“True. Guess you’re not buying my long overdue time-off-work excuse. It should make you feel guilty.”
“Not in the case of the mystery gift. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” Denise gave her best friend a quick hug when they reached her car. “See you in the morning.”
At home, Pam filled the coffeepot with fresh grounds and turned the timer to turn on in the morning automatically – freshly perked when Denise showed up for the unveiling. Pam was not curious enough to even take a sneak-peek at the package, not if it meant staying awake any longer than necessary. It had been a long day. She headed for the bathroom and eagerly slipped under the shower to wash away the sweat of the day. She toweled dry and pulled her favorite pajamas from the bottom drawer. She snuggled into the soft flannelette then curled up under the covers with a love story. Pam’s eyelids drooped already. She knew she wouldn’t last long. But the couple in the romance novel was about to discover true love, and she hoped it would instill sweet dreams into her lonely existence.
Pam awoke the next morning, with the book on the floor under a mountain of covers. She shivered. The air conditioner was humming, and she leaned over to retrieve a blanket. So much for blissful sleep – the disenchanted, fictional couple had left her with a sense of hopelessness instead of pleasant dreams. She glanced at the clock and groaned. Denise would be here in forty-five minutes. The woman was punctual. Forgoing the desire to crawl back under, Pam headed toward the washroom and began her morning wake-up routine.
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