A Family-Style Christmas and Yuletide Homecoming

by Carolyne Aarsen

  She nodded, her head still angled slightly sideways. “My parents own a house close to the ferry terminal. I’ve lived there all my life.”

  “Tire swing, tree house, big porch?”

  “Yes, actually.” She smiled and once again Simon felt a peculiar tightness in his chest and once again he wondered why she had this effect on him. “My dad built us a tree house and Mom helped us furnish it.”

  “Us being the brother and sisters?” He couldn’t help the sardonic tone in his voice. “Sounds very cozy and small-town America.”

  Caitlin shrugged. “It was, until I pushed Tony off the ladder because he and his friends were chasing me. He ended up with a broken leg, and I ended up being banished from the tree house for a month.”

  “But you nursed him back to health, and that’s how you discovered you wanted to be a nurse?”

  “Right,” Caitlin said with a short laugh. “Tony wouldn’t let me within five feet of him, then or now. We weren’t close then. Unfortunately we still aren’t.”

  Simon heard the plaintive note in her voice and couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Why not?”

  “My brother has made some pretty poor choices in his life that we’ve had a hard time living with.”

  “That sounds ‘Caitlinese’ for he messed up.”

  Caitlin tilted her shoulder up in a light shrug. “I guess that was full of euphemisms.” She held his gaze as if weighing his reaction. “Tony got involved with a gang when he was young. They ran wild, and he ran with them. He married one of the girls, moved to Toronto and we haven’t heard from him since.”

  “The black sheep of the cozy family.”

  “Why do you say that with such sarcasm?”

  Simon didn’t reply, not sure himself. He had spent most of his life disdaining family, so it just came naturally. No one had challenged him on that before.

  “Our family is close, but we’re not an unusual group of people,” Caitlin continued, pushing herself away from the radiator. “Stable American families are more common than television, newspapers and movies would have us believe.”

  “And you probably pray before every meal, too.”

  Caitlin drew in a slow breath, as if weighing her answer. “As a matter of fact we do. We read the Bible regularly, and we struggle each day to live out our faith in all the things we do and say. Tony gets mentioned in just about every prayer that gets uttered either aloud or in quiet.”

  Caitlin spoke quietly, but Simon easily heard the sincerity in her words. They intruded upon a part of his life he thought he had safely pushed aside. He tried to hold her steady gaze, to keep his eyes on her soft green ones, reaching for the sarcasm he knew would push her away from the place she had ventured too close to.

  “Nice to know I’m in such good company.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He winked at her, but it lacked conviction on his part. “You prayed for me, too,” he said sarcastically. “Do you still pray for me?”

  She held his eyes captive, her expression serious. “Yes I do, Simon.” Her voice was quiet, her words simple, yet what she said shook him to the core. “Do you need anything else?”

  He watched her a moment, noting the change in her expression at his tone and suddenly disliking it more than he thought he would, but knowing he had to take this through to the end. “I still need something to read.”

  She reached behind her and pulled open the drawer of his bedside table. She pulled out a Bible and laid it gently beside his hand. “You said you didn’t like reading fiction, this might be just the thing.”

  And with that she left.

  Chapter Six

  “Cup of tea, honey?”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Caitlin yawned, shooed the cat off the wooden chair and sat down at the kitchen table. She finger-combed her hair, still damp from her shower, as she looked around the brightly lit room, smiling.

  Watching her mother move unhurriedly around the kitchen gave her a sense of order and continuity. As long as she could remember, her mother made her tea when she woke up whether it was in the morning for a regular day of school or work or in midafternoon when she started working shifts.

  Her mother set a steaming mug in front of her. Caitlin wrapped her hands around it, stifling another yawn.

  “And how was work?” her mother asked, sitting down at the table close to Caitlin, holding her own cup.

  “Busy.” She spooned sugar into her tea. “Where’s Rachel?”

  “She and Jonathon packed a picnic and headed up to Denman Island. They were hoping to check out the market there.” Her mother took a careful sip of tea and brushed a lock of graying hair out of her face. “You could have gone with them if you hadn’t decided to work.”

  Caitlin shrugged, ignoring her mother’s heavy hint and the guilt that came with it. Spending time with her sister should be more important than working but it wasn’t.

  Her mother had tried to convince her she needed time at home to catch her breath. She didn’t understand Caitlin’s desire to get busy, to work in an effort to push aside what had happened, to get on with her life.

  “I got a phone call last night.” Her mother’s soft voice broke the silence.

  “From...” Caitlin prompted, her heart fluttering at the intensity of her mother’s gaze.

  “Charles.”

  I knew she was going to say that, Caitlin thought. “What did he want?” she asked, putting down her cup.

  “He said he still had your suitcase and was hoping to drop it off.”

  Caitlin had forgotten about the arrangements she and Charles had made for their holiday. A day before their fateful date she had brought her clothes to his parents’ place. They were to bring it to the cabin so that Caitlin and Charles could leave directly for Pender Island after supper.

  “What did you tell him?”

  Jean Severn pulled in her lips, looking down at her cup of tea. “I told him when you would be awake, but he said he would bring it to the hospital once he was done work.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him to just bring it here?” Caitlin didn’t want to see him again.

  Jean looked up with an encouraging smile. “I thought he might want to talk to you. Maybe he wants to get back together....”

  “Don’t even say it, Mother,” Caitlin said, raising her hand in warning. “He’s moving to L.A. He doesn’t want to commit himself. We’ve been through this before.”

  Caitlin knew her mother had loved Charles and had such high hopes for the two of them. That those hopes had been dashed was more of a disappointment to her than it had been to Caitlin.

  “How many evening shifts are you going to be working?” her mother asked, wisely changing the subject.

  “I’ve already done three, so I’ll be working two more.”

  “Too bad your tickets to Portland are booked already, otherwise you could leave earlier.”

  Caitlin shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Maybe I’ll head up-island myself. Hit Hornby Island for a while, go up to Miracle Beach.”

  “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about that,” her mother said intuitively.

  “You’re right. I’m just thinking aloud.” Caitlin pulled one leg up on the chair, hugging it. “I’m just feeling a little mixed-up right now. Maybe I kept dating Charles because I thought if I let him go, who else would I have?” Caitlin rubbed her chin on her worn jeans, feeling distinctly melancholy. “I think we were just a convenience to each other.”

  “You and Charles were never a passionate couple, Caity, but you were never a passionate person. You’ve always liked things orderly and neat. I never had to nag you to clean up your room like I did your siblings.”

  “You make me sound boring.”

  Jean leaned over and ran her hand over Caitlin’s cheek. “Y
ou are anything but boring, Caitlin. You have a caring, steady nature and a solid faith I know many people envy.”

  I still sound boring, Caitlin thought. Nice, but boring. But she smiled at her mother, secure in the love that surrounded her. “And you’re a good mom.” She leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder. “I feel like I’m still in high school, coming home and dumping on you.”

  Jean stroked Caitlin’s hair, rubbing her chin over Caitlin’s head. “I am glad you can. I pray you will find some direction in your life. I know that God isn’t...”

  “...through with me yet,” Caitlin interrupted, finishing the familiar saying with a smile. She straightened and gave her mother a quick kiss. “Let’s see, what else could you tell me. I’m still young and there’s lots of other fish in the sea. There’s not a pot so crooked that a lid doesn’t fit on it.” There were many more homilies her mother often used and all had to do with finding someone in her life. Marriage, the ultimate goal.

  Jean shook her head and tousled her daughter’s hair. “That’s enough, you pest. You had better head upstairs and get dressed if you want to get to work on time.”

  Caitlin stood up, looking down on her mother. Much as she teased her mother about her truisms, she also knew that there was a lot of truth in those simple phrases. Truth and love dispensed in equal measure.

  She smiled, and bending over, dropped a kiss on her mother’s forehead. “I love you, Mom. I hope you know that.”

  “Yes, I do.” Jean Severn smiled up at her daughter. “You’re a wonderful daughter and a wonderful person. That hasn’t changed.”

  * * *

  “And how have our model patients been doing?” Caitlin walked into the hospital room and stopped by Shane’s table. Schoolbooks, papers and cards covered it. He was hunched over a handheld computer game, ignoring her.

  “Hey, you little twerp,” Simon said from the bed beside him, “Caitlin asked you a question.”

  Shane looked up at that, his eyes opening wide when he saw Caitlin. He laid down the game, the frown on his face fading away to be replaced by a sheepish grin. “Sorry,” he said, pushing himself to a sitting position. “I didn’t know it was you.” He looked up at her again, smiling.

  “That’s okay,” Caitlin said, puzzled at the change.

  Yesterday he had been snappy. Now he seemed eager to please.

  “You working tonight?” he asked pulling the table closer. He laughed shortly. “Of course you are,” he said without giving her a chance to reply. “That’s why you’re here. Sorry.”

  Caitlin could see he was embarrassed and resisted the urge to smile. “I’m just checking up on everyone. Usual beginning-of-the-shift stuff.”

  “Well, thanks.”

  “I noticed you had a bunch of visitors today.”

  Shane nodded, relaxing enough to sit back. “Friends from school, some of the teammates.”

  “The day nurse told me your girlfriend came,” Caitlin prompted, smiling now.

  “Well, she’s just a friend. We’re sort of seeing each other, but not really.”

  “I wish my girlfriends treated me like that,” Simon interjected from his side of the room. Caitlin turned to him with a frown, and he only winked at her. “She was hanging on him like a bad suit.”

  Shane looked down at his computer game. “Well, she’ll dump me quick enough, when she finds out I can’t play football anymore,” he muttered.

  “Oh, she’ll stick around for a while,” Simon disagreed, his voice holding that world-weary tone that set Caitlin’s teeth on edge. “As long as you’ve got money, you’ll be okay.”

  “Thanks for your input, Simon.” Caitlin’s voice took on a fake sweetness as she turned to him. “I’ll talk to you later.” And with that she pulled the curtain between them. It was a flimsy barrier, he could still hear everything she said to Shane, but it gave the idea of privacy. Hopefully Simon would take the hint.

  “Do you think she went out with you just because you are a football player?” Caitlin asked, lowering her voice.

  “Maybe.” Shane lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “But that doesn’t matter anymore.” He looked up and tried out a smile that aimed for the same casual familiarity that Simon had mastered to perfection. But Shane’s missed the mark. Obviously not as experienced, Caitlin thought.

  “I’m sure the fact that you won’t play football doesn’t matter as much to her as it does to you,” she said, her voice taking on a brisk, reassuring tone. “And who knows. Once you get mobile, you might be surprised what you can do yet.” She left, fighting the urge to smile.

  “You’re looking mighty cheerful,” Simon said as she came around the curtain.

  Caitlin shook her head as she glanced at him. “And you seem pretty good compared to what your chart says. Your temperature is up a bit, and you look flushed.”

  “I’m fine.” Simon winked at her then tried to push himself up with his hands. He sucked in a quick breath through clenched teeth, his eyes shut. He lay still for a moment then was about to try again.

  “Don’t, Simon.” Caitlin laid a warning hand on his shoulder. “Here, I’ll put another pillow behind your back, then you don’t have to move.”

  He nodded weakly, showing to Caitlin how deep his agony really was. She got a pillow from the foot of his bed and carefully inserted it behind him. He was breathing with slow, controlled breaths, riding out the pain. He lay back against the pillow, which allowed him to sit up a little higher. “Thanks, angel,” he said, pulling in another slow, deep breath as he smiled up at her.

  Her heart softened as their eyes met. While she had thankfully never had to endure what many of her patients had, experience had given her an idea of how they felt. Seeing a man of Simon’s age and strength made so weak and helpless always wounded her deeply.

  He slowly settled back, relaxing now. “Are you going to stick around awhile? My girlfriend didn’t come today.”

  Caitlin felt a slight jolt of disappointment. So, he had a girlfriend after all. “Does she know you’re here?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Simon angled a grin up at her. “She doesn’t even know I exist. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Oh. I see.” Caitlin didn’t see, though. She didn’t see why that should matter to her. She didn’t see why she should care. But she did.

  “But Shane over there does have a girlfriend, even though he doesn’t want you to think so.” He waggled a finger. “Come here,” he whispered. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

  Puzzled, she stepped closer to the bed, bending down slightly.

  “You’re too far away,” he whispered.

  Caitlin bent nearer, disconcerted to feel Simon’s hand on her neck, pulling her down.

  “I think that boy likes you.”

  Caitlin heard his words, but even more than that, she felt his warm breath feather her hair, felt her own breath slow at his touch. She pulled abruptly away, her heart pushing against her chest. “Don’t be absurd,” she said, quickly trying to cover up her reaction to him. What was wrong with her?

  “I’m not absurd.” Simon smiled up at her, his mouth curved in a mischievous smile that showed her quite clearly what kind of a man he really was. “And you know what? I have a crush on you, too.” He cocked his head, raising his eyebrows suggestively and Caitlin turned away, disgusted with him and even more, herself. In spite of what she knew about him, his smile still gave her a slight jolt.

  “I’ll check on you later” was all she said.

  She made the rest of her rounds. The next two patients she saw were a good balance to Simon and his innuendos and leading comments. He was a study in frustration. It seemed each time he showed his vulnerability, he had to counteract that with some ridiculous behavior.

  Caitlin continued her rounds, checking her patients’ v
itals. When she stopped to check on Shane again, his parents had him laughing so she left him alone for now. The curtain was drawn between his and Simon’s beds and when she stopped on Simon’s side, it was to find him with the head of his bed elevated as he stared at the curtain dividing the room. He seemed to be listening to the chatter going on beside him. If Caitlin didn’t know him better, she would say his expression was almost wistful.

  Her earlier pique with him had dissipated in the routine of her work. Once again she found herself watching him, wondering who he really was and where he really came from, why no one visited him or phoned. Not even the elusive Oscar.

  He turned his head and caught her looking. He gave her a bold wink and sly grin, which completely broke the very temporary mood.

  “You still love me, angel?”

  I give up on this man, Caitlin thought. She walked to his side, clipping the stethoscope in her ears. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she put on the blood pressure cuff.

  He held her gaze a moment, then looked away. “Not great,” he said succinctly.

  His face was still flushed, and she laid her hand on his forehead. It was warm.

  “Have you been feeling shaky, or trembly at all?”

  “Not really.” He picked up the book he had been reading and closed it. “Can you put this back on the table?”

  Caitlin took the book, surprised to see that it was the Bible. She glanced at Simon, but he was looking sidelong at the curtain again, listening to the voices beyond, so she laid it beside the bed.

  He laid his head back and sighed, his eyes squeezed shut. Caitlin was concerned. By now she knew Simon well enough to realize he wouldn’t tell her if he was dying.

  She took his temperature.

  “Still good. Only .04 above normal. Must be something else,” she murmured, making a note on his chart.

  “How often do you hear from your brother in Toronto?” Simon asked. “The black sheep.”

  Caitlin felt taken aback, surprised that he remembered, wondering why he brought it up. “My parents haven’t heard from him in four years. We don’t know where he lives anymore.”