Plundered Christmas

by Susan Lyttek

  When I reached the dock, the winds were so high that they threw the surf over the boards. I couldn’t even see Margo at first; so many people were huddled around her.

  James was not right up with the crowd, but he had Josie and Justin off to the side.

  “I could help, Neenie, with my training, but I didn’t want them to see this.”

  I handed him the pads. “Go forth and do good, my hero.” I had no medical training beyond motherhood. I didn’t figure it would do anything for massive quantities of blood. In fact, with my weak stomach, I knew it wouldn’t. At the doctor’s, a technician only needed to get a needle close to one of my veins for me to feel woozy.

  “Why don’t we pray for Miss Margo?” I said to the kids. I wanted to keep them busy and keep their imaginations off of what might have happened to the woman and what it might look like.

  “Can we kneel?” asked Josie. “I’ve seen people do that. It seems like it makes it more serious.”

  She was such a darling girl. I felt overwhelmingly grateful and blessed to have her. “Of course we can, sweetie.”

  So we knelt down on the sandy grass above the beach. Much to Justin’s dismay, his sister wanted to hold hands, too. As we prayed, our eyes were closed, but I could hear the activity bustling behind us.

  All those tending to her were frightened, I could tell. She must have lost a lot of blood.

  I started, and then Josie, and Justin last of all summed it up. “Lord God, help Miss Margo get better. And not just from this, God. Something is hard in her heart. I’m not even sure if she knows you, God. So help her work it all out and get better in every way. Amen.”

  As he said ‘Amen’ and we joined him, I could hear people moving behind us. I looked, as we stood, and saw James and Frank carrying a still form quickly to the house while Dad held onto her hand and Charlie walked on the other side.

  Mary was crying as she stood and looked out to sea.

  I went to her. No one should lose a mother around Christmas. It was bad enough to lose a mother at all. “I’m sorry about Miss Margo,” I said to her.

  “Why, thank you,” she said in gulps.

  “We just prayed for her. I thought you should know.”

  “You and your kids prayed for my mother?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t think my mom had any clue what she was getting into when she decided to find a good Christian man,” she said. “You might just change us all.” She didn’t say anything more. She followed the crowd to the house.

  But what she said turned over and over inside me. “You might just change us all.” Was this why we were here? God, did you want us here so that we might change the Banet family? Here, I had been looking at this whole week as a time away from real Christmas. A time to get to know a potential stepmother and enjoy some time in the sun, but did God have a higher purpose? I felt ashamed of myself. I kept thinking about my own enjoyment, my Christmas, and our traditions. I hadn’t thought anything about these people around us, or about their souls.

  When we got back to the house, as if in answer to the turmoil in my mind and heart, the wind began to spin around us even more. It imitated a rocket at takeoff.

  Dad looked concerned when I asked him about Margo. “We called emergency services, but it will be at least an hour, maybe two before they can get here. A nor’easter is bearing down on us. And even if they get here, they might not be able to get out again to take her to the nearest medical facility in Florida. It all depends on the strength of the storm.”

  “But how’s she doing?”

  “Well,” Dad admitted, “James got the bleeding to stop, but her shoulder is still a mess.” He ran a hand through his silver hair. “I can’t for the life of me figure out how or why she got in that water. She’s been on this island her entire adult life. She knows the hazards. There’s no way she would go into the water willingly over there. And fully dressed? It makes no sense.”

  I had to agree. Something wasn’t adding up. In addition, since Margo was still unconscious, we couldn’t ask her why she was down at the docks or who might have seen or caused what happened.

  Rather than carry her upstairs to her room, they had laid her on the largest of the three couches in the living room. It happened to be the one that sat directly under the tree. The lights flashed on her pale face.

  Mary knelt next to her mother and held her hand. Concern filled the young woman’s face.

  Charlie came up behind me and cleared his throat. “Ma’am?”

  I turned around. The all-around servant looked so tired. “Yes, Charlie?”

  “The Coast Guard just called, ma’am. The storm is blowing in faster than they forecasted and they can’t get here. They did want to make certain the mistress was stabilized.”

  This wasn’t good. “Is there anyone we can talk to? Even if we could get some real medical advice on how to treat her…”

  “Yes, ma’am, they did leave a number. Also, if we still have Internet, they gave us a web address in which a doctor on call can view her.” He handed me the piece of paper with the number and website on it. “In the meantime, we have been instructed to stay inside and do what we can to stay safe. It’s supposed to come in nearly as hard as a hurricane.”

  What were the odds? I thought. Hurricane season ended over a month ago, so I thought it would be safe and warm out here. And instead, we have an injured woman and a dangerous storm on the way.

  God, what are you trying to teach me?

  6

  After I passed on the news of what Charlie had said to everyone present, Dad said we should get everyone into the living room so that we would stay safe and accountable. He also asked Charlie to do what he could about starting a fire.

  The great room we were in had one fireplace on the west end now displaying Dad’s handiwork above the mantel. Next to the great hearth sat a pile of logs and kindling cut to various sizes.

  Margo had told me that they traditionally lit a fire on Christmas night and sang carols. Well, this year, the fire would happen a day early.

  Most everyone was already there.

  Jelly was on the porch so I went to go get him. The canine companionship would make me feel better at a time like this. I also ducked outside with him quickly to get him to do his business before the weather turned from worrisome to dangerous. Even close to the house, the wind was terrifying. I don’t think I’d ever seen him tinkle so quickly. Well, maybe during the snowstorm last March. Only obedience to me kept him from racing back inside before he finished.

  When we returned, Dad had gathered everyone he could find.

  Oddly, William and his mother Anne were nowhere to be found.

  The captain of the yacht, Eric Blake, came in from the back quarters as did the cook, Mrs. Smith, and her helper, a quiet, mousy and unassuming girl named Juliana.

  Frank and Aimee stayed off to themselves talking. When Justin asked to check in on Uncle Frank, I urged him to leave them be. They had a lot of things to talk about if they did indeed plan on marrying.

  “James,” Dad said. “Can you quickly check all the rooms? Maybe William and his mother are sleeping or resting and don’t know about the current situation.”

  James agreed, but took Charlie with him as the person who knew the most about the house. “I’ve only seen about a third of the rooms,” he said.

  I didn’t think I’d seen that many of them. What could all those rooms hide?

  They weren’t gone long before they brought back Anne. She had been sleeping.

  William, however, was not in his room.

  Charlie and James renewed the search.

  Mary and I, though, wanted to know if Anne knew anything about her son’s whereabouts.

  “No, nothing,” she said a bit defensively. “He’s a grown man. He said after lunch that he was going fishing.” She looked to the windows as if to see his face or some other sign of his presence. “But that was hours ago.”

  I pointed outside. “A storm is also coming our wa
y. I do hope he’s not on the ocean right now. Even the Coast Guard can’t get to us.”

  At that news, her haughty demeanor dropped. Briefly. “He’ll be back. My boy’s an excellent seaman. Did you know he grew up on this island?”

  I shook my head, no.

  “Well, he did. My brother even told him that he would inherit. Raised him to take over the family shipping business. But then she,” the woman indicated her unconscious sister-in-law. “She talked my brother into selling the entire business to a conglomerate. All they kept was the island. What could my William run then? The kitchen?”

  Margo stirred, but did not open her eyes. When she spoke, I could barely hear her. “We paid for his schooling. He could do with that whatever he wanted.”

  Dad glared at Anne. “Margo has been seriously injured and you dare slander her? On Christmas Eve? In her own home?”

  I thought Anne would look more repentant, but the anger in her expression didn’t lie. She seriously believed that Margo and her husband had mistreated William. She turned away and looked at the tree.

  Dad leaned in to Margo. “Can I get you anything to make you feel better?”

  “I-I don’t know. It hurts.”

  Mary started up a laptop. “I’m going to see if I can get that doctor online that Charlie told us about.” She tapped rapidly on the keys, logging in and trying to connect. After several minutes of tapping, she cursed. “I can’t get a signal.”

  “Where’s your cell tower? Or router hook-up?” I used up all of my computer knowledge and techno-speak in less than thirty seconds.

  She pointed to the tree. It took me a moment to realize the word that came out next. “Upstairs. Not the safest place to be if the wind kicks up too high. Even with the hurricane glass, we’ve had to replace windows over the years. But I need to try.” She turned to her aunt. “Auntie Anne, can you come with me? I need someone to keep an eye on the storm and warn me when we should head back down.”

  The woman didn’t bicker or argue. She simply followed Mary up the stairs.

  “That’s odd.” I didn’t realize that I’d said those words aloud until Margo answered me.

  “My daughter and evil sister-in-law? I know.” She coughed, and then groaned when it moved her shoulder. “They’ve always been close. Why do you think I invite the woman for Christmas year after year? It’s certainly not because of any love between us. At least that husband of hers didn’t have the nerve to show his face. I caught him robbing the manor last year.” The emotion made her shake and then cry from the pain.

  “Shhh,” my dad urged. The last years with Mom had given Dad an amazing bedside manner. He plumped her pillow without moving her body or having any impact on the injured shoulder. “You shouldn’t be talking. You have a serious wound.”

  Margo used her good arm to push herself up on the couch, evidently trying to find a more comfortable position.

  “Stay still.” ordered Dad. “James managed to staunch the bleeding, but you keep that up and it will start all over again.”

  “But…” Margo tried.

  “But nothing,” Dad said.

  “Someone pushed me into the water. Hard. Then, I heard another splash near my head and saw a chunk of meat floating past me.”

  I could see what she was getting at. She wanted us to know that she was in danger—we were in danger.

  She looked around the room from her trapped position on the couch. “Someone tried to kill me,” she whimpered. Instead of looking haughty, wealthy, or powerful, those images she worked to convey fled in light of her current situation. She appeared fragile and suddenly much older.

  As best as he could, Dad comforted her after that. He patted the hand not connected to the injured shoulder, told her how beautiful she was, and sent a lot of pretty phrases into her ears. It helped. She calmed down.

  “Papa,” Josie asked. “Do you think Miss Margo would mind the rest of our Christmas Eve tradition?”

  “And what would that be?” Margo asked, her voice barely audible.

  “We were in the process of reading the gospel of Luke,” Dad said. “The Christmas story. We had just started when Charlie told us that you were wounded and needed our help. He cares for you a lot, Margo. Worries about you.”

  “I know.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “I would love to hear the Bible. It would remind me of when I was little…” She coughed again. Then she gave a little scream of anguish.

  I couldn’t imagine how much it hurt.

  She bit her lip to stop herself and then tried to smile up at my father. It looked as if she had a lemon rind between her teeth, but we could tell she wanted to beam up at him.

  Dad took it in the spirit it was intended. He pulled his Bible from the couch where it had dropped and opened to the account.

  Frank, Aimee, and the kids all came in closer at the sound of my dad’s sonorous voice. “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census…”

  ****

  When James and Charlie returned, they quietly joined us as Dad had nearly finished.

  Margo had closed her eyes while “her dear Robert” read from the Scriptures, and they didn’t know she was conscious.

  As Dad finished, James said, “We can’t find William anywhere. We have checked every room in the house. He’s nowhere to be found.”

  Margo’s eyes snapped open. “He probably ran after he pushed me. Did you see that miserable yellow boat of his anywhere?”

  Charlie looked like he would faint. “Miss Margo! You’re OK!”

  “No, Charles, I am most definitely not OK. I am, however, still firmly in the land of the living despite my nephew’s intentions.”

  I could tell her words did not sit well with Charlie. “Master William? I can’t believe he would do such a thing to you, ma’am. He’s a good boy deep down.”

  I could tell she wanted to sit up, even stand and give her commanding presence a real work out as she told her servant a thing or two.

  But my father kept patting her hand and whispering, “Easy. Easy, Margo.”

  “The yellow craft was still tethered when we rescued you,” James said. “So if William left the island, he didn't do it that way. But personally, I can’t believe anyone could have left the island recently. Maybe this morning when we were getting the tree or earlier this afternoon while the weather was still pleasant, but in the last four hours? Absolutely not. The winds are much too high.”

  “See,” Charlie insisted. “I told you he was a good boy.”

  “But,” James reminded him. “The fact is that we can’t find him anywhere in the house or in the immediate grounds.”

  Jelly chose that moment to bark. The bark. Those in the know all turned apprehensively to find out what the pooch wanted to warn us against.

  We couldn’t see anything or anyone outside the window he faced. But seconds later, we realized it couldn’t be an intruder.

  Rather, Mary and Anne were coming back downstairs.

  “I got a hold of the doctor!” Mary said triumphantly. She raced to her mother’s side. Mary immediately shooed Dad out of the way, and slowly and carefully lifted up the pads. She didn’t remove them entirely, just raised them enough so that she could see the wound.

  After looking and cocking her head in several different angles to examine the shark bite, Mary replaced the pads and sighed. The relief in her expression was easy to read. “I showed the doctor a picture on my phone of Mom’s shoulder. I told him about our situation and spotty reception. He told me what to look for and what to worry about. I didn’t see any pus or white discharge in the sore. It looks clean, but raw. He said in that case, to wait an hour or so before changing the gauze or absorbent pads as the case may be. He also said that as long as Mom was conscious, she could take ibuprofen for the pain, drink water, and eat a little. Like the kind of stuff she would eat at the hospital.”

  The cook beamed. “I have just the thing, ma’am. I made some broth.” She ticked off the contents of her refrigerators by pointing to di
fferent fingers on her hands. “And I made a gelatin mold for the children.” Mrs. Smith turned to Josie and Justin. “You dearies don’t mind if I share some of it with Miss Margo, do you?”

  They assured her that they didn’t. Josie didn’t even like wobbly desserts, with the exception of canned cranberry sauce—with the berries. She would choke down a small serving whenever aunts or well-meaning neighbors made some for Justin and included her in the “treat.” Rather than traditional kid foods and desserts, our daughter had more upscale taste. If you wanted to excite Josie about dessert, it required two words “chocolate” and “fountain.” If she could repeatedly drench everything from strawberries to saltine crackers in warm chocolate, Josie was happy.

  I wonder where she inherited that food obsession from?

  The cook hurried off to get a small something for Miss Margo. Mary dug some painkiller from her purse, and Juliana ran to fetch a bottle of Margo’s favorite brand of water.

  Dad, in the meantime, did what Dad did best. He made sure she was comfortable and talked to her about anything and everything that didn’t relate to her pain.

  By this time, the fire roared comfortingly against the harbor side of the house.

  The kids located Margo’s stereo system and with her permission, selected a couple of CDs they recognized from titles that Mom had passed down to me. Soon, the soothing tones of Nat King Cole made the entire room feel like Christmas could indeed happen at this place and time.

  Josie danced in time to the songs, pirouetting like a ballerina.

  Justin had pulled out his handheld game system and sat under the tree trying to better a previous score on a favorite conquest.

  If not for the fact that a shark-bitten woman sat on her couch, it would have been idyllic.

  Margo had nearly finished her broth and gelatin when the wind kicked up higher.