A Home for Christmas

by Deborah Grace Staley

  “That's all right. What do you need?”

  “It's Eve Carlisle. She's taken a downward turn. I don't think she'll make it through the night. Thought you'd want to know.”

  “I'm nearly two hours away. Can I make it?”

  “It's hard to say. She's been asking for you. I think if I tell her you're coming, she might hang on.”

  “Thanks for calling, Mark. I'll be there as soon as possible.”

  “Drive carefully.”

  Janice hung the phone up and turned to Blake.

  “Emergency?”

  “In a way.” She didn't miss the look of annoyance that passed across his face. She was used to that. She'd dated several men, one in particular, who'd expected her to put him first. When they saw that wouldn't be possible, they dropped her. Another reason to take a step back. She had to admit, if only to herself, she was kind of glad to have an out. Things were getting entirely too intense, too quickly, between her and Blake.

  “I have a patient who's been ill for some time. My colleague doesn't think she'll make it through the night. She's elderly and doesn't have anyone. I've treated her for so long, she sort of sees me as part of her family. I should be there. I'm sorry to cut our evening short,” she said, and in a way, she was.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and pinned her with a steady look she couldn't read. “Don't worry about it. Can I drive you?”

  “Oh, there's no need. I have my car. Besides, I could be at the hospital all night.”

  He frowned. “Call me old-fashioned, but I don't like the idea of you driving alone all the way back to the city this late.”

  His tone was a bit too stern, and it rankled her. “I'll be fine,” she insisted.

  He shrugged. “Can I give you some food to take with you? You didn't finish your pasta.”

  “I should just go ahead and leave.”

  He nodded. “I'll walk you to the door.”

  They slowly made their way down the long central hallway to the front of the house. She couldn't help dwelling on how the mood had shifted since she'd gotten that page. She also couldn't resist stopping at the doorway to the parlor for one last look at the tree. “We didn't get to make the popcorn garland.”

  “Duty calls.”

  He helped her into her coat. When she turned to say goodbye, the intensity she saw burning in his eyes was unnerving. She thought he might kiss her, but instead, he opened the door.

  “I hope your patient . . . I hope everything goes okay. At the hospital,” he added.

  “Right. Thanks.”

  She walked out to her car, but stole one more look at the house before she got in. Despite her head's best remonstrations and the conflicting emotions swirling inside, seeing it and Blake silhouetted on the other side of the door filled her heart with a sweet, tender longing. A longing for home. A longing for Blake.

  Blake closed the door behind Janice and slammed his fist into the wall. The new sheetrock gave, leaving a large hole. He looked at his hand then and noticed it was bleeding. He flexed his fingers. He hadn't even felt pain.

  He pressed his injured hand against the palm of his opposite hand. Pacing the hallway, he used the self-talk and breathing techniques he'd learned years ago. Breathe in. Breathe out. She was a doctor. She had a patient dying. Sure, her partner could handle it, but the patient was special and had asked for her specifically. Of course she would want to be there for the woman.

  He was just being selfish. He raked a hand through his hair and continued to pace. Breathe in. Breathe out. She was an independent woman. She'd be fine driving alone at night all the way back to Knoxville.

  He had no reason to be upset. He hardly knew her. They'd seen each other twice now. Shared a mind-boggling attraction, but that was all it was. Clearly they were wrong for each other. They wanted different things. No harm. No foul. They should both just get on with their lives and forget they ever met.

  And that got him to the source of his irrational anger. He didn't want to forget Janice. He put his back to the wall and slid to the floor. Sinking his head in his hands, he wondered how he'd gotten in so deep.

  Better yet, what was he going to do about it?

  When Janice arrived at the hospital, she went directly to the nurse's station. No one was behind the desk, so she found Eve Carlisle's chart and reviewed it. Her partner had ordered only pain medication to keep her comfortable.

  Janice walked the short distance to Mrs. Carlisle's room. No family waited sadly outside in the hallway or crowded inside around the bed to say their final goodbyes. No minister stood by the bedside to comfort or pray. All machines and IV's had been removed. The frail old lady seemed dwarfed by the bed. Her snowy white hair blended with the pillowcase.

  She checked the pulse at her patient's wrist. Thready and irregular. Respirations, infrequent and labored. Eve's eyes fluttered open and a smile played at her bluing lips.

  “Dr. Thornton. Is that you?” Her voice came out in a raspy whisper.

  “I'm here, Mrs. Carlisle. How are you doing? Are you in any pain?”

  “No. No.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “Please sit.” She patted the bed. “Stay with me.”

  Janice sat on the side of the bed. How she hated this aspect of her job. The dying woman lifted her hand, and Janice took it. The bones stood out prominently, the skin stretched paper-thin.

  “It won't be long now.”

  “No,” Janice confirmed. “Is there anyone I can call, Mrs. Carlisle?”

  “No. No one. I gave the nice nurse the name of a funeral home. They know what to do. The nursing home can do what they wish with the few things I left behind.”

  Janice nodded. Tears stung her eyes. No one should have to die this way. Completely alone with only her doctor to comfort her.

  Eve patted her hand. “Now don't be sad. I'm an old lady. It's my time. I'm ready to go.”

  Janice swallowed hard and tried to smile.

  “I have something for you.” Eve pointed toward the nightstand.

  A large wooden box sat next to it. Janice pulled the old trunk over to the bed. Eve gazed at it lovingly.

  “My father made it for me. It's a hope chest.”

  “It's lovely.”

  “Open.” She drew in a labored breath. “Look.”

  A musty smell filled the room as she lifted the lid. The hinges creaked from lack of use. The inside was lined in faded blue velvet. An old quilt lay neatly folded in the bottom. A white Bible, yellowed with age, sat on top. A posy of dried flowers tied with a lace ribbon and several other mementos were also inside. Janice tilted the box so Eve could see the contents.

  “My grandmother made that quilt. The church I grew up in gave me the Bible. All the brides were given one.”

  Janice picked it up and opened it to front page. Presented to Eve Fields Carlisle by the Women's Auxiliary of the First Presbyterian Church of Eden's Crossing. April 3, 1940.

  Janice recognized the name of the town. It was about an hour east of Knoxville, but she'd never been there. “You were married?”

  Eve nodded. “But he never came back from the war.” She took a labored breath. The gurgling sound indicated fluid filling her lungs. “He was unforgettable. His life so short . . . mine too long.”

  Janice replaced the Bible and closed the lid. “What would you like me to do with your hope chest, Mrs. Carlisle?”

  “I want you to have it.”

  “Oh, I couldn't. Surely there's someone—”

  Eve held up her hand. “You. There's still time for you. Don't waste it. Don't wait for tomorrow. You never know what it will hold. Promise.”

  Janice wasn't sure what the dear lady was asking of her, but she said, “I promise.”

  Eve smiled and looked up. A look of sheer peace transformed her face. “So beautiful . . . so . . . ” She took a long, deep, unencumbered breath, and then took no more. Janice closed Eve's eyes and laid the hand she held atop the other at her waist.

  Afte
r a moment, she walked out to the nurse's station. “Sharon, Mrs. Carlisle—” Her voice broke. What was wrong with her? She was a doctor. Dealing with death, part of the job.

  “I'll take care of it, Doctor.”

  “Thank you. There's an old chest in there. Please have an orderly bring it down to my office.”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  The nurse lifted the receiver on the phone to make the necessary calls. Janice took the elevator down to her office on the third floor. She went straight in without turning on any lights, shut her door, curled up in the corner of her couch, and cried. All of the loss and loneliness crashed in on her at once.

  Like Eve, she was alone.

  Dear God, she didn't want to end her life that way. No family to care. No children to be proud of. No husband to have loved.

  She didn't know how long she sat there in the dark. Someone knocked on the door of the outer office, dragging her from her misery.

  “Who is it?” she said sharply.

  “Orderly. I have a delivery.”

  Janice hurried to the door in the front office and let the man in. Back in her office, she indicated where she wanted him to place the old box. She sank back into the corner of the couch, staring at the chest that had meant so much to Mrs. Carlisle. It rocked her back to a time when she'd had hopes for a future and a family of her own.

  She'd met Joel while doing her residency. He'd been in law school at the University of Tennessee, just across the river from the Medical Center. Having grown up on a farm in a small town north of Knoxville, she'd been charmed by his large family. Loved the community he grew up in, because it reminded her of Angel Ridge. His family's farmhouse, loud with children and full of love, reminiscent of the warmth and caring she'd experienced in her grandparents' home.

  She'd accepted his proposal without hesitation. When he'd suggested she abandon her medical studies and focus on staying home to start a family after their marriage, she hadn't taken him seriously. He knew how much she wanted to become a doctor. As time passed, the suggestion became a demand. Her flat refusal had caused him to call off the engagement.

  The break-up had been devastating, but drove home the realization she'd never have the things she'd dreamed of as a little girl. She'd never have a home and a family. Would never be loved and accepted for who she was. Sitting up a little straighter, she rationalized. She had her practice. Colleagues who respected her. Patients that needed her. That was enough. Wasn't it?

  Inexplicably, the tears came again. What was wrong with her? She grabbed a handful of tissues and buried her face in them.

  The persistent pealing of her pager pulled Janice from her grief. She snatched the offensive device from the purse she'd dropped at her feet and punched a button that ended the nauseating beeps. The number on the digital display showed her answering service was trying to contact her.

  She walked to her desk and dialed her service. Pulling several more tissues from the box on her desk, she wiped her nose while she waited for someone to pick up.

  “Doctor's office.”

  “Yes, this is Dr. Thornton. You paged me.”

  “Yes, Dr. Thornton. A Blake Ferguson called. He asked us to tell you that he's in the lobby of the hospital. You can reach him at . . . ”

  Janice jotted the number down and disconnected the call. Why in the world would Blake be here at the hospital? Her uncle. Oh, God . . . .

  She dialed the number and waited.

  “Hello?”

  “Blake?”

  “Hi.”

  Janice wiped her nose again as fresh tears threatened. “My service said you were here at the hospital. Is something wrong? Uncle Charles?”

  “No. Nothing's wrong.”

  “Then why are you here?” There was a long pause. “Blake?”

  “I thought you might not want to be alone. I don't know. I guess it was crazy.”

  Blake was here. He'd seemed so detached when she left him. She couldn't believe he'd come all this way. For her.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “In my office.”

  Another pause.

  “Maybe I shouldn't have come. I was just, I don't know, uncomfortable with how we left things. And I guess I was a little worried about you.”

  “I'm glad you're here,” she admitted. “You're right. I don't want to be alone. Come up to the third floor, and I'll meet you at the elevator.”

  “I'm on my way.”

  Janice grabbed her keys and walked out to the elevators. A tone signaled its arrival, and then he was there.

  He stepped into the hallway, hands in his pockets, to stand in front of her, a shy, uncertain look on his face. He wore a black leather jacket that made him look entirely too rugged. Too sexy. She wanted like crazy to walk into his arms and stay there all night, but folded her arms against her midsection instead. “I can't believe you're here.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Neither can I.”

  Strain made the crinkles at the corners of his eyes more pronounced. Janice had to look away from the intensity of his clear, blue gaze. “My office is just down the hall.”

  She led the way. Blake followed. Unlocking the suite door, they walked back to her office. With a flip of a switch, she turned on a lamp in the corner of the room.

  “Were you sitting here in the dark?”

  Janice nodded and sat on the couch. She kicked off her clogs and tucked her feet beneath her. Blake sat next to her. He leaned forward, his hands folded loosely between his knees. There was that look again. The one that took in entirely too much detail.

  “You've been crying. Is it your patient?”

  Janice had to turn away again. “Yes. No.” She shrugged, unsure of her own feelings, and propped her chin in her hand.

  He took her other hand in both his, then dipped his head to meet her gaze. “I'm sorry.”

  The softness in his voice did her in. Janice turned away from him, pressing her fist to her mouth as the tears came again.

  He squeezed her hand. “It's okay.”

  She brushed the tears away. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I've lost patients before.”

  “But something made this one different?”

  She swallowed hard, struggled for control. “I suppose.”

  “It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I'm willing to listen if you do. It's sometimes easier to unload your troubles on someone you don't know very well.”

  “I never have. I'm not sure I know how.” Sure, there were parallels between hers and Eve's lives, but there was more. “I guess she reminded me of my grandmother. Thinking of her brings back memories . . . regrets.”

  “Why regrets?”

  Janice hesitated. She'd never told anyone what had happened. She'd been so angry and hurt all these years, and Eve's death just brought it all to the surface. Blake squeezed her hand, silently encouraging her to continue.

  Janice took a deep breath and began. “I was finishing up medical school in Boston. I'd been offered residencies at Johns Hopkins and The University of Tennessee Medical Center at Knoxville. Much to my mother's dismay, I accepted the latter.”

  “What about your father? What did he think?”

  “He didn't get involved. He never got involved.”

  “Johns Hopkins is pretty prestigious.”

  “I didn't care about that. I wanted to be close to my grandmother. Grandfather had died the year before. He had Alzheimer's.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  The warmth of his hands enfolding hers helped her go on. “His illness had been hard on Grandmother. I kept in close touch with her after he died. When I got the UT residency, we agreed that I would relocate to Angel Ridge and move in with her. She was quite elderly and needed help with the place. I didn't want her to be alone.

  “I loved that house. Looked forward to living there and having someone to care for. Someone to . . . ” She let the words trail into silence.

  “Someone to what?”

  “To ca
re for me,” she said quietly.

  “But you never moved there,” he supplied.

  “No. She died before I finished school.”

  Blake squeezed her hands.

  “She died alone, just like my patient tonight. Someone went to check on her when she didn't show up for her Wednesday morning quilting circle at church. That's when they found her.

  “The worst thing is that I didn't get to say goodbye.” Janice laughed. It was an empty sound that held no humor. “My mother was out of the country at the time. Some weeks later, she broke the news to me in a postcard from Nice. The house and its contents had already been sold at auction.”

  “I remember that. Thought it was unusual.”

  “I guess that's when you bought the house.”

  “No. I only bought it a year or so ago. It stood empty until then.”

  So, no one had lived there since her grandparents until Blake moved in. It went uncared for all those years. Janice sniffed and wiped her nose. “My mother's a heartless, cold woman.”

  He handed her a tissue. “Mrs. Prescott had a nice funeral. The whole town turned out.”

  “I'm so glad,” she whispered.

  He tugged at her hands until she moved over next to him. He put an arm around her shoulders. “Like I told you, I didn't know her, but I knew of her. Everyone thought highly of your grandparents. They were good people. Active in church. The kind of folks that would give you their last dime if they thought you needed it.”

  “You know more about them than I did.”

  He squeezed her arm. The look in his eyes made her limbs go liquid.

  “It's not your fault.”

  This situation was becoming entirely too intimate, and she wasn't so far gone that she didn't recognize her own vulnerability. Janice found her legs, stood and moved behind her desk. She shuffled a few files into a neat stack, thinking she should update these charts she hadn't gotten to before she left the office this afternoon, but first . . . .

  “Blake, it was really nice of you to come all this way.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. Doing that reminded her of the kiss they'd shared and how she'd lost her barrette. What now? She couldn't invite him back to her condo. Could she?

  He rose and slowly approached her desk, hands in the pockets of his jacket again. He was entirely too appealing for her peace of mind. With her emotions so raw, it was a frightening combination.