Christmas Blessings

by Katherine Spencer

  “Lily and Tyler are already out there, shaking boxes.” Jessica brought a platter to the table, and Sam took a seat across from Darrell. “Someone call them in before this gets cold. We’ll open everything later.”

  “I’ll go,” Darrell said.

  Sam waited until he left the room then looked at his wife. “Did you know he was coming this morning?”

  “No, but I hoped he would. I put little gifts in his stocking,” she said, matching his quiet tone.

  “Do you think this means he’s moving back?”

  “I can’t tell. Let’s just play it by ear, Sam. Don’t pressure him. That will only make him stay away longer . . .” She set some syrup and butter on the table and took a seat. “I’m just happy he’s here and we can have Christmas morning together.”

  Sam nodded. It would be hard for him to hold his tongue and not pummel Darrell with questions. But he knew Jessica was right. Darrell had agreed last night to put aside their differences and not spoil everyone’s Christmas. He was holding up his end, and Sam was determined to hold up his own.

  • • •

  “It’s as if she was waiting to have Christmas and now feels she can let go,” Jean told Barbara. “Waiting for Kevin to be here, too.”

  “That’s not uncommon. It happens that way with many patients,” Barbara said. “They hold out for what’s important.”

  Dr. Nevins had come on Christmas Day to see her mother and each day since. Barbara had been there daily, too. But it was just as Jean had explained to Kevin. Their mother’s heart was failing, and all they could do now was make her comfortable.

  Cynthia needed oxygen all the time. Her skin, nails, and the whites of her eyes all had a distinct cast of yellow as her liver failed and jaundice set in. She slept a lot but was still making sense when she was able to speak to them. Jean was glad of that.

  The decline had begun on Monday, Christmas Day. Almost two days had passed since then, and that morning Dr. Nevins admitted he was surprised she had lasted so long. “It’s a matter of days now. Maybe hours,” he had told them.

  Jean and Kevin took turns sitting with her. They didn’t want her to pass alone.

  After Barbara left, it was Jean’s turn to keep her mother company while her brother rested upstairs. The ordeal was draining for both of them. Cynthia was sleeping, and Jean tried to read a book by a thin shaft of light that slipped under the window shade. She had been up most of the night and soon felt herself falling asleep in the chair.

  She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she woke. The room was dark. She felt someone lift her off the chair and carry her into the living room, then set her on the sofa and cover her with a blanket. “Kevin?” she murmured.

  “It’s me,” Grant said. When she opened her eyes and tried to speak, he touched a finger to her lips. “Get some rest. I’ll watch your mother for a while.”

  Jean was surprised but exhausted. She closed her eyes and quickly fell asleep again. Grant’s appearance felt like a dream. A very sweet dream.

  Sometime later, Grant sat at the kitchen table with Jean while Kevin made a simple dinner of scrambled eggs and toast.

  Grant and her brother chatted like old friends. Their crisis and Grant’s willingness to share in their trouble had brought them all together. Jean felt touched by his unexpected help. He was trying to be there for her at this difficult time, and that meant a lot.

  She glanced across the table and met his gaze. He smiled softly and took her hand. She had been kidding herself to think she could get over him so easily. He seemed to be doing what he could to show her that he was sorry for letting her down and that he very much wanted to be part of her life.

  She decided to let it be. Her mother was the most important focus for her now. As for Grant, she would just have to see where their relationship led and deal with the consequences later. Right now she expected that to be a bittersweet parting, but there seemed no way to avoid it.

  • • •

  Even though Sam wished things were different, Darrell did not move back home on Christmas. He returned to Lillian’s house in the late afternoon on Christmas Day and went back to work the day after on Sam’s jobsites. They were also back to the text-only mode of communication, which Sam knew suited millennials just fine, but which he found extremely frustrating.

  On Thursday morning, Sam was surprised to receive a call from Charlie Bates. He wondered what the mayor could be calling him about. After a little small talk about Sam’s accident and recovery, Charlie finally got to the point. “I’ve been trying to reach Darrell. Maybe his phone is shut off.” Or just the ringer, Sam thought, so he won’t have to listen to me call all day.

  “I heard from the county this morning,” Charlie went on. “We didn’t get the approval for the multi-unit dwelling at the cannery site.”

  “That’s too bad.” Sam was surprised and unsure of how he felt about the news. “Is there some route for an appeal?” As much as he didn’t want Darrell to fight the decision, he knew his son would try.

  “I’m afraid not. They do a study and have a vote, and it’s pretty final. I’m sorry. I was getting excited about the idea myself,” Charlie admitted. “Your son drew up a good plan. You should be very proud.”

  “I am,” Sam said.

  “If he wants to see the letter, he can drop by my office and I’ll give him a copy.”

  “I’ll tell him that. Thanks, Charlie.”

  They said good-bye and Sam sat back, feeling stunned. It seemed as if a huge weight had magically lifted off his shoulders. Then it hit him how disappointed Darrell would be, and Sam knew he could take no pleasure in this outcome.

  When Jessica heard the news a short time later, she had the same reaction. She had been in the barn, tending to the animals, and now sat at the kitchen table with her jacket still on.

  “Poor Darrell.” She looked like she might cry. “We have to tell him.”

  “I know. But where, when, and how is the question. Should we stake out your mother’s house and wait for him?”

  She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost noon. He’ll want to have lunch soon. Maybe he’ll meet us at Molly’s?”

  “Good idea. But you’d better ask him. He might not come if I do.” Though it hurt Sam to say that, it was true.

  Jessica took out her phone. She sent Darrell a quick text and he answered right away. “He’ll meet us there in half an hour.”

  “All right. Let’s go.” Sam felt a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. It was going to be hard to face his son with this news.

  They were soon sitting at a table in Molly’s bakery. Molly was working at her other shop, in Newburyport. Sam felt relieved that he didn’t have to explain this family meeting to his sister. She would find out soon enough.

  Darrell came in and Jessica waved. He sat down, his glance sweeping over their expressions.

  “What’s up, guys?”

  “Charlie Bates called me this morning,” Sam began. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. He heard back from the county.”

  “He did? Already?” Darrell grew instantly alert, and Sam took a steadying breath.

  “I’m sorry, son. They didn’t approve the cannery site for a multi-family dwelling,” Sam said.

  Darrell’s hopeful expression crashed. The news clearly shocked him. “Are you sure? Why not? What did they say?”

  “Charlie didn’t go into the details,” Jessica said. “They sent a letter to his office. He told Dad you can get a copy.”

  “Good. Because the sooner I find out why they didn’t approve the plan, the sooner I can apply again.”

  Sam shook his head. “I asked Charlie about that. He said he didn’t think you could. These decisions are final.”

  Darrell stared him. “That can’t be, Dad. I don’t believe that.”

  Had Darrell really meant I don’t believe y
ou? Sam thought that was entirely possible.

  Sam struggled to keep his voice even and calm. “You can ask him yourself. I’m only telling you what he told me.”

  Jessica leaned forward and touched Darrell’s arm. “We know this is a shock for you, honey. I know we don’t agree about you taking off time from school, but we’re both sorry to see you disappointed. We really wish it hadn’t turned out this way.”

  Darrell had been staring down at the table. Now he looked up at them. “Right. Thanks,” he said in a flat tone. “But it sure solves your problem, Dad. You have to admit that.”

  “Darrell, please. How can I be happy to see you so miserable? Do you really think that?” Sam knew his son was upset, but his taunting words hurt.

  “I don’t know what to think. I’m going to talk to Charlie.” He stood up quickly, nearly knocking over the chair.

  Sam looked up at him and nodded. “Good idea. Maybe he knows more than he told me.”

  Darrell didn’t reply. He turned and left the bakery.

  Sam glanced at Jessica. “He took it hard. Worse than I expected.”

  “I know. We need to give him some space now, and some time. He’s got to work this out on his own.”

  Sam agreed, though the advice was easier said than taken. Especially since Darrell seemed to think his father was happy to see the plan fail. Sam didn’t feel good about that at all.

  • • •

  Dr. Nevins had assured Jean and Kevin that their mother felt no pain. She was weak, drifting in and out of consciousness. Jean liked to sit by her bed and hold her hand, which was now stiff and clawlike. That seemed to comfort her. It also comforted Jean.

  Jean had drifted off just that way Thursday afternoon, sitting in a chair beside the bed. She woke suddenly.

  “Jean? Jean?” Cynthia called in a surprisingly clear voice.

  Jean sat up, instantly alert. “What is it, Mom? Are you in pain? Do you need something?”

  “Closer.” Her mother tried to lift her hand but couldn’t manage it. “Need to tell you something.”

  Jean leaned over the bed. “What is it, Mom? What are you trying to say?”

  “The gold and diamond earrings. That my mother gave me. I want you to have them.” Her mother took a labored breath. “You know the ones?”

  Her mother seemed upset. Jean hoped to calm her. “Yes, I know the pair. You wore them on Christmas Eve. They’re beautiful. Thank you, Mom,” Jean said quietly. Even though it seemed logical that her mother would bequeath her that jewelry, Jean had not felt certain that the heirlooms would be handed down to her. “I’ll always think of you when I wear them.”

  “It’s all I can give you now. Maybe you don’t want to remember me. I wasn’t a good mother.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jean wondered if her mother was getting confused. The doctor said it could happen with her heart working so hard and all the systems in her body in crisis now.

  “Don’t talk. Just listen to me. I was not a good mother. To you,” she insisted. “I took care of your physical needs, made sure you had clean clothes and did your schoolwork. I taught you some manners. But I never gave you what a child really needs. A mother’s love. Unconditional love. I was stingy with you that way. Not with Kevin. Only with you.”

  “Mom.” Jean didn’t know how to respond to her mother’s confession. It was painful to hear, though she knew it was true. She covered her face with her hands a moment. Then she touched her mother’s arm. “You don’t have to talk now. Save your energy.”

  Her mother tried to laugh and managed only a gurgling sound. “For what? I have nothing to save it for now. Let me speak the truth. Finally. I always favored Kevin and treated you badly. Kept you down and discouraged you. That’s a sin I’ll pay for, I’m sure. I could blame your father, but it came from me. Only me. From bitterness in my heart that I could never wash away.”

  Jean stared down at her. “I don’t understand. What bitterness? Because of your painting? Because you wanted to achieve more?”

  “Not the painting. I just acted as if that was the problem. Your father was unfaithful. He had a child with another woman. That woman died when the child was still an infant, and he brought the baby to our house—not here. It was before we moved to Cape Light, when we still lived in Northampton.” She closed her eyes a moment as if gathering her remaining strength, then continued. “He brought the baby home and asked me to raise it as our own. Somehow I agreed. The child was innocent, Jean. She didn’t deserve to be tossed in an orphanage when she had a living father who wanted to care for her.”

  Jean drew in a sharp breath, suddenly knowing, but not believing, where this story would lead.

  “I could never forgive your father for his betrayal,” her mother continued. “I tried to raise the baby as my own. To love her, the same as my son. But just the sight of her was a sharp and bitter reminder, one that cut me to the heart every day.”

  Jean sat in stunned silence. She was that child, born out of wedlock to her father’s mistress. Her mother was not her natural mother. So many questions and frustrations in her life were suddenly explained. But the story also made her amazingly confused.

  “Is this really true? How did you and Dad keep that secret, all these years? Does Kevin know?”

  “Only your father and I knew. It’s amazing that we kept it to ourselves. I always thought you would find out. Or at least suspect. I know now I just wished that was so. It would have been easier for me. I would have been relieved of the burden of that lie and the hard job of telling you the truth.”

  “I never suspected. Not once. Though I knew that you and Dad argued.”

  “We argued a lot. My fault mostly. He tried to make amends, but I wouldn’t let him. I wanted him to pay for what he’d done. A debt that was never satisfied. You were caught in the middle, an innocent victim of our battle. I don’t expect you to understand. Or forgive me.” Her mother paused and took a deep, raspy breath. Jean didn’t want her to talk anymore but knew she couldn’t stop this confession.

  “But maybe, someday, you can find it in your heart. At least now you know the truth, Jean. I am deeply sorry. I was so weak and selfish. Only thinking of myself, my own feelings. That’s my only explanation. You’re a good woman—even remarkable in your way. You’ve been kinder, more caring, and more respectful than any daughter I could have ever wished for. Much more than I deserve. Your father would have been proud of you. Very proud.”

  Jean stared down her mother, weak and frail, so close to death. She wasn’t sure what the right response might be. All she had was the truth. “You’re the only mother I’ve ever known. Whoever gave birth to me . . . that’s something different. You’re my mother, and no matter how you treated me, I love you. I’ll miss you when you’re gone. I’ll miss you very much.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened and tears slipped down her cheeks. She grasped Jean’s hand with surprising strength. “Will you, really? In my sorry, twisted way, I love you, too. It was so hard for me to show you. I won’t be around to prove it to you now.” Still gripping Jean’s hand, she closed her eyes, and Jean knew there would be no more talking for a while.

  A few minutes later, Kevin came into the room and found Jean crying. He rested his hand on her shoulder. “How is she doing? Has she woken up at all or been sleeping all this time?”

  “She woke up. She was talking to me.” Jean wanted to tell her brother the secret Cynthia had confessed, but she wasn’t ready yet. “She’s losing ground, Kev. I think we should call Reverend Ben while she’s still coherent. A visit from him could bring her some peace.”

  Reverend Ben had visited a few times since her mother’s decline had started. But there had been no time for them to talk privately. Jean knew that was important now. Her mother would surely pass more peacefully if she confessed the secrets of her heart and he assured her of God’s unconditional love and forgivene
ss.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Darrell came home on Thursday night after working and ate dinner with the family. Everyone was happy that he was back, though Sam and Jessica made no comment. Tyler and Lily chatted nonstop, updating him about the animals. He gave them attention and even smiled at their silly stories, but was very quiet and, understandably, downhearted.

  Sam took Jessica’s advice and did his best to give Darrell some space. No one spoke about the cannery project.

  Darrell got up from the table as soon as he finished eating. “I’ve got some work to do. I’ll see you later,” he said. “I’m going to send the cannery proposal and plans to my professor. I’ll have to mail the model later.”

  Sam glanced at Jessica. This was thin ice and he was afraid to fall through. “You’re still using it as a school project?”

  “I did all that work. I might as well send it in.”

  “So you won’t try to appeal the decision?” Jessica asked.

  “I spoke to Charlie and Inspector Hepburn and also called some people in the county offices I know now. There really isn’t any way to reverse it. That’s what they all told me. So, I guess . . . it’s over.”

  Sam didn’t say anything more. This is part of life, he told himself, a valuable lesson. Life isn’t always fair, and he’s not going to win every fight. It’s good for him to learn that now.

  He wanted to assure Darrell that he would build wonderful projects like this one someday. But he could see that his son was not ready to be consoled. He was not ready to see the big picture and look to the future. The wound was too fresh.

  • • •

  Jean’s mother fell into a coma on Friday night. Kevin had been sitting with her and called Jean to come into the room. “I tried to wake her, to give her some water. She’s breathing, but she’s totally unresponsive.”

  “The doctor said it would happen this way. I guess we should call him.”

  “I’ll do it,” Kevin said. “How long do you think she’ll last now?”