A Christmas Peril (The Teacup Novellas - Book Five)

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A Christmas Peril (The Teacup Novellas - Book Five) Page 11

by Moody, Diane


  Some of the UPS guys stopped by later. Oh, how Mark would have loved to see those characters filing in. Gordo and several of the guys from the bowling team showed up bearing gifts. Lots of chocolate, lots of crossword puzzle books (Mark always quizzed the guys first thing every morning at work), some Krispy Kremes with red and green sprinkles on top, and even a Josh Groban Christmas CD. I love my big guy, but unlike Uncle Gary, Mark’s singing could make every dog in the neighborhood howl. The fact that he was off key and constantly fumbling the lyrics only egged him on. Which was why he often belted out Groban-esque serenades along with all those crossword quizzes at the UPS station. I loved seeing the guys, and knowing they’d taken time away from their own families to stop by on this Christmas morning made it all the more special.

  Mom and Dad called from Tulsa. They apologized for not being here with us, unable to make the long trip on such short notice. I’d completely forgotten about the airline tickets we’d reserved to head home for Christmas. We’d sort all that out later.

  Thankfully, the Christophers helped fill the parental void. Over the past few days, I’d grown to love Mark’s mom and dad even more. I decided their “love language” was compassion. It motivated everything they did and bled into every conversation. Now I knew where Mark and Shelly got it.

  We ate, we visited, and we opened silly, last-minute gifts Chad and Shelly had rustled together. A FedEx hat for Mark‌—‌ha ha. Fake cruise tickets for Mr. and Mrs. Christopher for a trip down the Arkansas River. For me, a framed photo of Gertie wearing her Velcro elf ears, along with some falsified adoption papers she’d supposedly signed over to Chad. It felt good to laugh again.

  The weather was getting worse with predictions of roads icing over, so we said our goodbyes around seven that evening. Mark’s mom and dad offered to stay overnight, but I could tell they were really tired. Even if they’d stayed, I wouldn’t have left. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Mark. Not on Christmas night.

  As much as I’d enjoyed the day, I was glad to have Mark to myself again. We’d all tiptoed around the unspoken hope that Mark would wake up just as Uncle Gary did on that Christmas day so long ago. With everyone gone now, I let down my guard and realized how exhausting it was, clinging to such a fervent wish while knowing the odds were against me.

  I grabbed a cup of coffee down the hall then settled back in my recliner. Around eight, one of the nurses told me there was a Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas concert on PBS. I’m so glad she did. It was the perfect ending to an almost-perfect day.

  For the first time, I hesitated to pick up Lucille’s diary. I’d read enough. Still, I wanted to know how their story ended. Tomorrow I planned to write a rough draft of the outline for my novella. I’d promised Sam she’d have it by the end of the week, and I intended to stay on deadline. Even if she didn’t have good wireless connections in Switzerland, my outline would be waiting in her inbox whenever she got to it.

  I looked over at Mark and studied his face as he slept. “I’m thinking we should read the rest of the story tonight. Are you up for that?” He didn’t object, so I found my place and started reading.

  Over the next few days Gary still wouldn’t let me out of his sight, except when he was wheeled downstairs for tests. He passed all his examinations with flying colors surprising all of us, including Dr. Pembleton. He asked several of his colleagues to stop by and see what he called his “miracle patient.” They were quite intrigued, pelting Gary with their endless questions. I could tell Gary was growing impatient, wanting nothing more than to be released so he could go home.

  We were especially relieved to learn that Gary’s mental faculties were strong and unencumbered by the long days he spent in a coma. He began asking more questions about the attack that put him there in the first place. We evaded the subject at first, until one evening after everyone else had gone home. He insisted I tell him everything, so I did. I gave him a minute-by-minute account as I remembered it. He seemed pleased to know the elderly woman he rescued was all right, and said he looked forward to meeting her and thanking her for the Christmas cannoli he’d inhaled.

  The Army had kept in touch, of course, and eventually sent one of their own medical doctors to confer with Dr. Pembleton. Apparently they were trying to decide what to do with Lieutenant Reynolds. Oddly, they didn’t ask my opinion on the subject.

  Then one morning, Gary’s parents arrived with unusually bright smiles, acting rather mysterious. His father set up a tripod for his camera. His mother helped Gary sit up in bed, stuffing pillows behind him, then helped him put on his robe she’d brought from home.

  The curiosity was killing me. “All right. What’s going on?”

  Craig took a peek through the lens of his camera then stood back up. “Lucille, how about you move over there and take a seat in the chair next to Gary’s bed.”

  “Why? What’s this all about?”

  “Oh, come on, Lucille,” Patricia said, stepping out of the way. “Let us have a little fun, will you?”

  “Gary?” I groaned playfully.

  “Don’t look at me. I’m just a guy coming out of a coma.”

  I laughed in spite of myself, looking back and forth between them as I slowly sat down. “Okay. I’m sitting. What on earth are you all up to?”

  Patricia joined Craig behind the camera, their silly smiles still puzzling me. Gary reached under the edge of his blanket and pulled out a small box. I recognized the Marshal Field’s Christmas wrapping paper.

  “Lucille, you know, I’m not supposed to be here.”

  I grimaced, concerned where such a statement might be heading.

  “No!” He reached for my hand. “I didn’t mean I was supposed to be dead! I meant to say I was supposed to be overseas for Christmas. That day we shopped at Marshall Field’s, I found something I wanted to give you for Christmas. You’d wandered into the ladies lingerie department, and if you recall, you sent me away.”

  “Well, of course I did!” I teased. “A lady doesn’t shop for those things with a fella she just met.”

  He laughed. “Yes, I think that’s what you told me at the time. We agreed to meet in fifteen minutes back by the elevator. Remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  He twirled the opal ring on my finger. How I’d missed that simple, intimate gesture.

  “While you were shopping for ‘those things’ as you call them, I strolled over to the jewelry section. And that’s where I found the perfect Christmas gift for you. I asked the lady to set it aside for me to pick up later. I had it gift-wrapped then brought it home. Before I left the house that last morning, I put it under the tree and asked Mom to give it to you on Christmas Eve.”

  I glanced over at Patricia who shrugged in feigned innocence.

  “That was my plan. But, as you know, things didn’t go as planned, and I’ve been a bit indisposed, as it were.” With his index finger, he pushed the box another couple of inches toward me. “So, along with my sincerest apologies, I’d like to finally‌—‌FINALLY‌—‌give you your Christmas gift.”

  Gary gave me a wink as Craig kept snapping pictures. “Go on. Open it.”

  “For a guy who ‘just came out of a coma,’ you’re quite the crafty one.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I carefully unwrapped the paper and set it aside. Then, lifting the lid from the small box, I found a smaller black velvet box inside. I couldn’t breathe and didn’t even try to say anything. Instead, I opened the box and found the most stunning heart-shaped necklace made of diamonds.

  “Oh, Gary. It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

  “Do you like it?”

  “I absolutely love it!”

  “Here, let me help you put it on.” I gently removed the necklace from the box, then handed it to him and turned my back so he could clasp it for me. The clicks of the camera came faster and faster.

  “There,” Gary said, patting the clasp in place. “All set. Hey, Dad‌—‌easy with that thing, will you? I�
�m still recovering from a pretty serious headache here.”

  “Ah, these are great shots! Wait until you see them. Okay, you two give me a pose. Lucille, can you sit on the edge of the bed beside Gary?”

  I turned around, my hand over the diamonds resting just below my neckline.

  “Let us see those diamonds sparkle, Lucille. Oh, that’s perfect. Okay, ready, set‌—‌smile!”

  He took several more shots before Gary begged, “Enough!”

  That’s when I turned back to face him, took his face in my hands, and kissed him right on the lips. “Thank you. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in all my life. I’m speechless.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” he teased, kissing me back.

  Patricia approached us. “Here, let me get a better look.” I stood up so she could see my necklace. “Oh, son, you were right. It looks truly lovely on her.” She hugged me then pressed a kiss on my cheek. “A belated Merry Christmas, Lucille.”

  “Oh, wait‍—‍” I turned as Gary wrestled with the blanket. “I think there’s something else under here.”

  Craig waved Patricia out of the way. “Honey, you’re blocking the shot.”

  “Oh, here it is.” Gary handed me another box, wrapped exactly like the other one.

  “I think a heart of diamonds is more than enough, Lieutenant.”

  “On that, we must disagree. Go ahead. Open it.”

  “I feel terrible, Gary. I didn’t get you anything.”

  “I know. You didn’t know I would still be hanging around for Christmas. No apologies needed.”

  Still shaking my head, I tore the paper off the box to find another, smaller black velvet box. I slowly opened the lid. “What have you‍—‍”

  “I’d get down on my knee if I could.”

  My mouth fell open as I stared at the large solitaire diamond ring. I slowly looked up at Gary.

  He slipped the ring from its slot and held it, taking my left hand in his. “I’ve already proposed, but let’s make it official. That is, if you don’t mind marrying slightly damaged goods. Lucille Alexander, will you marry me?”

  Against a backdrop of furious camera clicks, I kissed my lieutenant again and again. “Oh yes! I will, I will!”

  I set the open diary on my lap, toying with its satin bookmark as a smile warmed my face. I leaned my head back on the recliner and looked over at Mark.

  “What a perfect love story. Don’t you think? Can’t you just see the twinkling in Aunt Lucille’s eyes when she realized what was going on? First he surprises her with the heart-shaped necklace. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he pops out an engagement ring? I’m telling you, this is the perfect romance. With this diary, the novella will all but write itself. I’ll have it done way ahead of schedule. Samantha won’t know how to handle herself.”

  I heard a soft knock on the door and looked just as Uncle Ted poked his head around it. “Are you awake, Lucy?”

  “Of course I’m awake,” I said, climbing out of my chair. “Come in! What are you doing here? It’s almost midnight.” I gave him a big hug, the icy cold fabric on his coat giving me a sudden chill.

  “I couldn’t sleep. Too much coffee or too much sugar. I’m not sure which.”

  “How did you even get here? When the night shift came in, they all said the roads are covered with ice. They said there were accidents all over town.”

  “Oh, you know me. The more hazardous the driving conditions, the better. I even stopped over at the high school and did some donuts in the parking lot. It was a blast! The faster the spin, the bigger the adrenaline rush!”

  I motioned him to pull over the extra chair. “No hard feelings, but I’m so glad I wasn’t with you.”

  He pulled off his coat and wool scarf and took a seat. “Ah, but you would’ve loved it.”

  “So the caffeine and sugar kept you up, huh?”

  “Oh, that reminds me.” He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a bag of Poppycock. “We always have a round of Dirty Santa at my in-law’s on Christmas. I won this, and I thought you might like to have it.”

  I couldn’t help the laughter that sprung out of me.

  “What? You don’t like Poppycock?”

  I waved him off. “No, it’s not that.”

  “Look, this is even the good stuff. Praline Pecan!” He tore open the bag and held it out to me. “Try some.”

  I laughed even harder before explaining my meltdown at Publix.

  “Hey, all that stress has to eventually come out. It was probably the best thing that could have happened to you.”

  I took a handful of clusters and munched a few. “I think you’re right. As embarrassed as I was, I have to admit it felt like a tremendous release after all this tension. I’m just glad there weren’t too many folks around.”

  “I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” Uncle Ted tossed a handful of Poppycock in the air and caught it in his mouth.

  “The employees were great. See that gigantic poinsettia over there? They sent that along with a note saying they were praying for us. Cool, huh?”

  We chatted a while longer. I was so glad he’d come. Uncle Ted always seems to know when someone needs a little extra TLC. I suppose it’s part of his ministry DNA.

  Before he left, he said there was one more thing.

  “What’s that?”

  He leaned over, his elbows on his knees. “Lucy, I was praying for Mark this morning while I shaved. It doesn’t happen often, but a verse came to me out of nowhere, and I knew it had to be from the Lord.”

  “What verse?”

  “I thought you might ask.” He pulled his iPhone from his pocket and opened his Bible app. “It’s Psalm 62:8. But after I finished shaving, I looked it up and read it in context, starting with verse five.”

  “My soul, wait in silence for God only,

  For my hope is from Him.

  He alone is my rock and my salvation,

  My stronghold; I shall not be shaken.

  On God my salvation and my glory rest;

  The rock of my strength, my refuge is in God.

  Trust in Him at all times, O people;

  Pour out your heart before Him;

  God is a refuge for us.”

  He tucked the phone back in his pocket. “Primarily, it’s a reminder that God is always, always there. He’s our rock, our strength, our refuge. And when we can’t find even a miniscule trace of His handprint in what we’re going through, He’s reminding us that He’s still there. And He always will be. No matter what.”

  I let the verses roll around in my head, and told my uncle about my heart-to-heart with God the night before.

  “Kind of feels like God sent you here to affirm all that.”

  He rubbed his hands together and smiled at me. “It sure does. Maybe it wasn’t so much the caffeine and sugar keeping me up after all.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Ted. I’m really glad you came.”

  He stood up and nodded toward Mark as he pulled his coat back on. “Any change?”

  “No, not today. But I’m learning to take it one day at a time.”

  He hooked his arm around my neck and walked me back toward Mark’s bed. “Come pray with me.”

  A few minutes later he was gone. I prayed he’d skip the ice donuts on his way home.

  I gradually made my way back to my chair and pulled the blanket around me. I reached for the diary and caressed the smooth leather cover. I felt confident there was more to Lucille and Gary’s story, but I was tired and needing sleep, so I reached over and turned out the light.

  As I drifted closer to that fine line between awake and asleep, I kept thinking about the last entry I’d read. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, fingering my necklace.

  “The thing is, Mark, I still don’t know how you knew about Aunt Lucille’s necklace. I never talked about it. And yet the one you gave me is exactly like hers, so it can’t just be some random coincidence.”

  I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, then cl
osed my eyes, ready to call it a night.

  “The photo album.”

  I snuggled deeper beneath the blanket, wishing the voices in my head would knock it off.

  “Under the coffee table.”

  I couldn’t believe how fast I’d fallen asleep. Still, I welcomed the sweet sound of Mark’s voice in my dream.

  “It’s not rocket science, Lucy. I saw the picture in a photo album.”

  I glanced over at dream-Mark and found him staring at me. I marveled at how much I’d missed the sound of his voice.

  “Hi, beautiful.”

  “Hi, Mark.”

  Wait‌—‌did I just say that out loud?

  “Did Gary have to go back overseas to the war?”

  I blinked. Twice.

  “Lucy?”

  “Mark?!” I rubbed my eyes, fighting to wake myself up.

  “So did he?”

  My eyes flashed open. I shoved the recliner upright and vaulted myself to his bedside. “MARK! You’re awake?!” I flipped on the overhead light.

  He blinked against the brightness, and I grabbed his face in my hands. “Can you hear me? Mark, say something!”

  “Hey, Lucy.” That goofy lopsided grin tried to find its place.

  “MARK! You came back! You came back to me!” I blubbered through the gush of happy tears streaming down my face. “You came back!”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then started looking around. “Back from where? Where am I? What happened?”

  I smothered him with kisses. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Epilogue

  Dear Diary,

  Before he left the hospital, Mark went online and ordered this beautiful leather-bound journal for me. It’s one of the things I love most about him‌—‌how he always knows the perfect gift to give. He wanted me to have it so I could write our love story.

  It’s still so hard for me to comprehend that he was listening all those weeks while I read from Lucille’s diary. They’d told me coma patients could often hear the sound of voices around them, but the skeptic that I am, I didn’t really believe them. Which is why I was gobsmacked when Mark started asking me questions about Lucille and Gary’s story; things he could not have known otherwise.

 

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