Christmas Blessings

by Katherine Spencer

  “I don’t know. Not much longer.”

  Kevin put his arm around Jean’s shoulder. “I’m glad Reverend Ben came today while she was awake and aware. I think they had a good talk. She seemed very peaceful afterward. I know it’s hard, Jean. But this is what she wanted. To pass peacefully, in her own home.”

  Jean nodded. She pulled a tissue out and wiped her eyes. “I think she’s at peace now.”

  A short time later, Kevin was in the kitchen, on the phone with Dr. Nevins, and Jean walked in. She didn’t want to leave her mother alone but needed a cup of coffee to stay awake.

  Kevin hung up the phone. “He said he’ll come by to see her, but it’s what we all expected.”

  “Did you have a chance to talk with her much?” Jean asked. Kevin had been away so long, Jean hoped he and their mother had talked about meaningful things. She didn’t want him to have any regrets.

  “We had a few talks. I told her about Laurel. That we met up again and I was hopeful things would work out this time. We talked a lot about that. She didn’t apologize exactly for interfering, but she recognized that what she’d done wasn’t right. We talked about other things, too.” He met Jean’s gaze. “How about you? Did you talk to her about anything important?”

  Jean nodded, a lump in her throat. “She told me a secret, Kevin. A story that is . . . mind-boggling.”

  Jean told her brother the truth that their mother had revealed, about her birth.

  “Jean.” Kevin’s voice faltered, as if he couldn’t find the words to respond. “I’m so sorry . . . I can’t believe she kept that from you—from both of us—all these years.”

  “I couldn’t believe it either. Somehow, she and Dad did.”

  He moved forward and hugged her. “That explains a lot. Why she and Dad fought so much. One of the reasons, anyway. And why she’s always been so unfair to you. Always finding fault. It goes without saying this news doesn’t change my feelings for you one bit. You’ll always be my little sister. The only one I’ve got.”

  Jean appreciated him saying that. She hugged him back. “You’ll always be my brother. The only one I’ve got. I do wonder why Mom and Dad stayed together all those years, after that drama. Especially since they never really made amends. Most couples would have split.”

  “I wonder, too. But they were both committed to our family and giving us a good upbringing. We have to give Mom credit for that.”

  “We do,” Jean agreed. “She only told me yesterday. It really hasn’t sunk in yet.”

  “It’s too bad you’ll never have the chance to talk about this more with her. I’m sure you have a million questions.”

  “I know but . . . but I think all the important the ones were answered.” She remembered again how her mother had tried to explain that she did love Jean, in her way.

  • • •

  Every year during Christmas week Jessica organized a skating party if the pond on their property permitted. This year the pond was frozen solid, and her children invited all their friends to come on Saturday afternoon. They were also excited to show their classmates all the animals at the Grateful Paws Rescue Center. Jessica was prepared for a big turnout.

  She had ordered pizza to serve at the house, and also made gallons of hot chocolate and piles of soft-baked pretzels to serve the skaters outside.

  Darrell was too old for the gathering and had gone to the gym, his favorite outlet for his disappointment. He spent every spare minute there now. He was still brooding and distant. Jessica reminded herself it had only been two days. Still, she hoped his spirits would lift soon.

  Her sister, Emily, came early to help, along with her daughter Jane, who was in middle school. Jessica was counting on Jane to wrangle the younger skaters. She was not great on skates herself anymore and hoped the kids wouldn’t get too wild.

  Despite her worries, the children were well-behaved, for the most part. There were a few rambunctious boys, but Jane easily got them in hand. While Jessica and Emily watched from the sidelines, their conversation came around to Darrell and the cannery.

  “Truthfully, we’re relieved that the project hit this roadblock—we want him to go back to school. But we also feel so bad for him. School or not, I wish there was some way the decision could be reversed and the project could continue. Darrell says he looked into appealing, but it’s impossible.”

  “Not necessarily,” her sister said.

  Jessica was surprised. She had just meant to catch her sister up on the situation, not ask for advice or intervention. But Emily Warwick had been in town and county politics a very long time. If anyone would know how to get around this decision, she would.

  “Do you know how to appeal it?”

  “I’m not sure . . . but I know a few people who probably do. I’ll make some calls, see what I can find out. This is exactly the kind of project I wanted to see in the village while I was mayor. I hate to see it rejected like this. And I hate to see all of Darrell’s hard work wasted.”

  “That’s just the way we feel. Thank you, Emily. Thank you so much.” Then she thought of Sam. He might be upset to hear that Emily was trying to breathe life back into this plan. “Let’s see what Sam thinks,” she added in a cautious tone.

  “Oh, absolutely. Sam should be on board before I start digging around.”

  Jessica smiled and poured another cup of hot chocolate for a chilled but happy skater. If anyone could figure this out, Emily could. Jessica hoped Sam would let her sister take a crack at it.

  • • •

  Jean held her mother’s hand as she passed away peacefully on New Year’s Day. It somehow made sense to Jean that she would leave them on the first day of the New Year. It was just before sunset, and the room filled with long slants of golden light for a just a few moments as Cynthia’s last breath left her body.

  Reverend Ben had come right after the service to wait with them. He touched her mother’s forehead and said a quiet prayer. “May you be blessed with God’s peace and comfort.”

  Jean leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Good-bye, Mom. I love you.”

  Kevin did the same. “Mom . . .” he said. He couldn’t say more.

  Grant was also waiting, standing off to the side in the bedroom. Ever since his surprise visit on Wednesday, he had stopped by daily, bringing them groceries or dinners that Vera sent. He had sat with their mother when Jean and Kevin were both too weary and even helped clean up around the house.

  Jean often recalled that Grant knew what it was like to tend to a loved one who was sick and to lose that person. His presence had been quiet and unobtrusive, a comfort to her and even to Kevin.

  The funeral was held on Wednesday morning, a small gathering as one would expect for a person so old. Still, many church members were there. Vera, of course, and most all the women who had worked with Cynthia on the Christmas Fair committee. Jean saw Laurel Milner sitting in the back of the church, too. She had come for Kevin, Jean guessed, but it was still good of her, considering how harshly their mother had treated Laurel when she was young.

  Reverend Ben’s eulogy was not long, but captured Cynthia’s character, Jean thought. He spoke of her mother’s wonderful talent, her quick wit and intellect, and her indefatigable—and sometimes exasperating—spirit.

  He noted that she was not without flaws, quickly adding that no one is. “The challenge in life is to face our missteps and weaknesses, and simply try to do better. To ask for forgiveness from those we wrong and from God above. I believe that Cynthia did try, even in her final days, and that she rests in peace now, embraced by our loving Father.”

  Jean bowed her head. She felt sure that her mother had told Reverend Ben her secret and was truly repentant. Jean found she didn’t mind if the minister knew the truth. She had considered telling Reverend Ben herself, knowing he would give her good counsel about how to understand this news and how to truly forgive her mother
.

  Jean and Kevin invited everyone back to their mother’s house for a small reception. Some women in the church brought food and cakes and set up a coffee urn. Jean had taken out photos of her mother. Cynthia looked young and beautiful, with her striking red hair and blue eyes.

  Jean was looking through a family album when Kevin came to sit on the arm of her chair, peering over her shoulder.

  “Look at us,” Jean said. “We look so silly. Do you remember that little wading pool we had in the backyard?”

  “I do. I loved splashing around in it. And look at Mom in that sundress. She was so pretty. She was really very small. But you never noticed, with her personality.”

  “Like a small stick of dynamite, Dad used to say.”

  Kevin laughed. “That’s very true. You’re more like Dad,” he said. “Not your looks. I take after him that way. But his kindness and loving nature. I’ve never seen it more than the past week, and I’ve been so in awe and thankful.”

  Jean turned and looked up at him. His compliment left her speechless. He put his arm around her shoulder a moment. “We’ll talk more, when everyone is gone.” He stood up and walked over to Vera, who was about to leave and wanted to say good-bye.

  The house was soon quiet again. Only Grant stayed behind to help clean up, though the women from church had left things in good order. Kevin looked dead on his feet, and Grant told him to take a nap. “You better lie down before you fall down. I’ll help Jean. Don’t worry.” Kevin managed a small smile and thanked him, then went up to his room.

  Grant touched her shoulder. “You should rest, too. I don’t mind finishing here.”

  “It’s all right. I’m tired but wound up at the same time. I don’t think I could sleep right now.”

  They worked together in the kitchen, putting away food. “It’s hard to believe she’s not here,” Jean said. “I feel as if she’s in her bedroom asleep, and then I remember. As much as I knew it was coming, it’s still a shock.”

  “I understand. It will take a long time to get used to the idea.” Jean knew that was true. It had taken a very long time to accept her father’s death. She turned to him.

  “Right before she died, when she was still able to speak, she told me a secret.”

  “What kind of secret?”

  “About my family. Mostly about me.” She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted Grant to hear the story. It was difficult, but she told him everything.

  Jean saw shock in his eyes and then distress as he listened. “That must have been difficult to hear,” he said at last. “Especially when she was so weak, and it was hard to express your anger.”

  “I didn’t feel angry, exactly. I was stunned. And things I’ve always wondered about started to fall into place.”

  “I always liked your mother. You know I did,” he said. “But what she did to you was so unfair. You were just a child.”

  “She understood that, finally. She told me she was sorry. Truly sorry. I believe she was.”

  “That’s some comfort, I guess. But I hope this will make you see that the way she treated you, the things she said and did, had nothing to do with who you are really—your talents and potential. It was all inside of her, a poison she had no outlet for. You were an easy, innocent target for her unhappiness.”

  “I do see that. At least, I’m starting to. This confession has shaken everything up, like a snow globe turned upside down. It changes the way I understand my past—and my future. But it’s hard to change your idea of yourself overnight.”

  He glanced at her with a sympathetic look but didn’t reply. They worked for a few minutes more without speaking. He handed her bowls of food covered with foil, and she stored them in the refrigerator. “What will you do now? Have you have made any plans?” he asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “How about Boston? You mentioned moving there.”

  “I probably will. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

  There was a little more to wrap up on the counter, baked goods, mostly. Jean planned to bring all the leftovers to church for their food outreach. The fancy cake and breads would be appreciated.

  “I have some news,” he said. “My photo essay of Cape Light was accepted by a gallery in Boston. They’re planning a show there soon.”

  “That’s wonderful.” She smiled at him briefly and returned to her task. She wondered when this show would be and how much he would need to be in the area at the time. How much she might get to see him. “So you’re not taking off for Nova Scotia right away?”

  “I haven’t made any plans for that trip yet. Nova Scotia will be there when I’m ready.”

  She had to laugh. Typical Grant attitude. She could learn from that.

  There were more questions she wanted to ask. Would he move to Boston to work on the show or stay in Cape Light awhile longer? She might move to Boston soon, too, and could see him there. Even if she stayed here awhile, the city wasn’t that far. Though she expected that at some point he would disappear from her life entirely, heading off to Nova Scotia or some other distant place. And there was nothing she could do about that.

  It was only early evening, but the day had been long and draining. Jean decided all those questions could wait. Perhaps the answers would become apparent without her asking.

  Grant left a short time later, taking out all the trash and loading a stack of folding chairs borrowed from the church into his truck. They said good-bye at the back door. “The best thing for you right now is some sleep. Lots of it. Promise me you won’t do anything more in the house tonight?”

  Jean nodded, touched by his concern. “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Good. Sleep well, Jean. Take some comfort knowing you and Kevin did the best for her. She’s at peace now.”

  He leaned over and kissed her forehead, then touched her cheek with his hand. Before Jean could reply, he turned away and was gone.

  • • •

  Jean didn’t wake up until nearly ten the next morning. She could tell it was late by the way the sunlight filled her bedroom. She lay in bed, the reality of her mother’s death sinking in. The funeral was over, but there were still many more tasks to take care of in the coming days: clean out her mother’s room, give her clothes away, go through her papers and her paintings. She and Kevin had to visit an attorney in town to review the will. That meeting wouldn’t be easy, but she already knew the outcome.

  Kevin was already up and had made coffee. He smiled as she walked into the kitchen. “You and Grant took care of all the cleanup. I would have done more this morning.”

  Jean sat at the table with him. “That’s all right. There wasn’t much left to do. I’m going to take all those leftovers to church today, for the food outreach Sophie Potter runs.”

  “Good idea. We can drop the food off before we meet with Richard Barnes, Mom’s attorney. I spoke to him this morning and made an appointment for this afternoon to go over her will. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about the will, Jean. But the last few days have been so busy.”

  She could see that her brother felt uneasy. And she didn’t want him to be. She would never blame him for their mother’s decisions. “Don’t worry, I know what’s in the will. Mom told me that she left the house and just about everything else to you. I know it’s not your fault. It’s just the way it is. The way she was.”

  “Actually, there have been some changes. I spoke to her about that toward the end. I asked her to split the property and savings between us. For once in her life, she didn’t argue. She told me she was making that change anyway and had already spoken to her lawyer.”

  “Spoken to her lawyer? But when?”

  “Barbara Crosby helped her. Remember when that envelope came from the law office last week?”

  “Yes, but I thought she was just getting her aff
airs in order and wanted to go over the details with you.”

  “Mr. Barnes drew up a new will and filed it. I didn’t intend to keep it from you,” he added. “It just turned out that way. But you and I will be joint owners on the house and shop and everything else.”

  Jean sat silent for a moment, surprised by the news. Another huge sea change in her life, the second this week.

  “I’m surprised she changed her mind. She’d been so adamant about you inheriting everything. But at least I understand now how it came about,” she said, thinking of her mother’s need for forgiveness.

  “I want you to stay here as long as you like. You can run the shop if you want to and keep all the proceeds. Or not. That’s up to you. Or we can sell everything. Whatever you feel most comfortable with. I think you should decide these matters. You haven’t been treated fairly since Dad died. It hurt me to watch, but I was so young. I didn’t know what to do about it. I know now I could have done more to make up for that. Especially as we got older. I moved away for my own reasons, my own unhappiness. But I could have thought of you more, too.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand. Jean returned his grasp, struggling to get her mind around this latest change that so affected her plans and her future.

  She took a breath, pulling herself back to the present. “I know you had your reasons for moving away. But I bear responsibility, too. We could have been closer, helped each other more. Taking care of Mom together, I think we’ve grown closer again. I know you’ll go back to California but I hope we’ll stay close as time goes on?”

  “I know we will, Jean. I’ll make sure that we do. We’re all that’s left of the family, you and me.”

  “We are,” Jean agreed. “But maybe we’ll have families of our own someday. It’s not out of the question. For either one of us.”

  He smiled, lifted by her optimism. “That’s very true. It’s not out of the question at all.”

  As Jean prepared for their trip into the village, she considered staying in Cape Light, wondering if it was the right choice. She’d come back to this house a few weeks ago, out of duty and dodging bad memories, like cobwebs caught in the corners of each room. But now she saw Cape Light in a new way. No longer the scene of her unhappy childhood, but a restoring place where she had grown more comfortable and confident. And had been given an important key to her history and identity. Little by little, she was starting to see herself differently and knew that she was surely starting a new chapter in her life. But maybe this familiar village and comfortable house—the backdrop of her old life—was the perfect place to do that.