Songs of Christmas

by Thomas Kinkade

  “The camp stove?”

  “We needed it last time, remember?”

  She did remember. The camp stove had come in handy when they lost their power in a big storm last fall. She hoped that didn’t happen again; it was such an inconvenience.

  “We still don’t have a generator,” he added. “I meant to get one but never got around to it.”

  “It’s one of those things you don’t think about until you need it. I bet a lot of people are saying the same thing right now. Let’s hope it’s not that bad.”

  “Maybe it won’t be,” he agreed.

  “Just what I need on top of all the parties I have booked this week, plus trying to get ready for the holidays around here. I wanted to decorate and put up the tree this weekend, even if we wait for the girls to come home to trim it.” She turned down the heat under the vegetables and checked a pan of red potatoes roasting in the oven. “The supermarket is going to be insane.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” Matt said. “Don’t worry. I’ll get everything. I know you’re busy.”

  “I know you’re busy, too . . . but thanks. You seem to know what we need. I’ll leave it all to you.”

  Molly had a feeling this weather forecast wouldn’t amount to much. Matt always took these things more seriously than she did. He was the more sensible and cautious one in their partnership. But he was right. Better to brave the supermarket madness and have what they needed on hand than find themselves stuck in a cold, dark house without any creature comforts.

  * * *

  IT WAS AWFULLY DEPRESSING TO GET UP EARLY ON SUNDAY AND HEAD off to church. Amanda felt utterly hollow inside as she dressed and drove along the empty road to the village. She was glad now she hadn’t told anyone about the Austin opportunity—except for Gabriel.

  She knew it would be hard to see him again and admit that she hadn’t even been called for the audition. He wasn’t the type to make her feel worse about it. Still, she had sounded so sure of it. She had even turned down his date, thinking she would be en route to Austin. That seemed laughable now. Or it would be, if it didn’t still sting so much to even think about it.

  The service went smoothly. Amanda remembered all her cues, moving easily from the organ to the piano and back again, guiding the choir through their songs, and helping the flute soloist adjust her stand. The girl was quite poised and played very well.

  Still, Amanda felt as if she were almost sleepwalking through the service. She looked out at the back rows a few times but didn’t see Gabriel. She wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or disappointed. She knew he wouldn’t be back again to work on the windows, but she did expect to see him on a Sunday. Maybe he would show up for the Christmas service. She would feel better by then and be able to put a brave face on this Austin episode. She hoped so, anyway.

  For one wild moment, she wondered if she should call him. Just to let him know that she hadn’t left town, as she had expected. She didn’t know his home phone number, but could easily find the number for his shop. Then what? Wait for him to ask her out again?

  Or I could ask him.

  Amanda sighed. She knew that worked for some women. But she just wasn’t the type. She had tried it once or twice, and it always backfired somehow.

  Maybe I’ll run into him in town one of these days, she thought. He liked the Clam Box. She might even try eating lunch there sometime.

  But I won’t tell my mother. She’ll never forgive me, she decided with a secret smile. Molly had a rather low opinion of the food served at the Clam Box.

  Amanda sighed, thinking about Gabriel. One way or another, she would figure out how to cross his path again. Lauren was good at these guy problems and was coming home very soon. She’ll help me figure this out, Amanda decided. She’s exactly the person to ask.

  * * *

  “I CAN GO HOME TODAY? THANK GOODNESS.” IT WAS SUNDAY AFTERNOON, and Ezra was sitting up in bed. His voice sounded strong and his color looked good, Lillian thought, despite the bleak hospital room.

  “We needed to make sure your blood pressure was stable again,” Dr. Newton explained. “But I don’t see any reason to keep you here longer, Ezra. I’ve spoken to Estrella, and she’ll be watching you very closely for the next few days.”

  “She watches me like a hawk, Doctor. If she hadn’t come in to check my blood pressure in the middle of the night like that . . . Well, I hate to think of—”

  “She saved your life,” Dr. Newton said flatly. “No question.”

  “She did save him. Thank goodness,” Emily said.

  “I’ll never be able to thank her enough. You know what I call her now? My star,” he told the doctor. “That’s what her name means in Spanish.”

  Dr. Newton smiled. He was leafing through a thick pile of forms and checking off boxes and signing his name here and there. “I’m not surprised,” he said.

  “She handled the emergency very well. She’s a real professional,” Emily noted.

  “Now, now, let’s not rehash all that again,” Lillian said briskly. “It was just a minor setback. Nothing to worry about.”

  Lillian didn’t want to be reminded again of that awful night.

  How many times did they need to talk about it? She hated to remember how terrified she was, riding in the back of that ambulance, not knowing if Ezra would be alive or dead when they finally reached the hospital.

  And she had no desire to be reminded again of how Estrella had saved him. Ezra would probably want to pin a medal on the woman when they got home. Or write her into his will. She wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.

  “The ship has been righted. Now full speed ahead,” she urged all of them.

  “Yes, full speed . . . as soon I sign all these papers,” Ezra said. The doctor had been checking off boxes on forms and handing them down to Ezra to sign.

  “I never realized that being sick involved so much paperwork. You might as well have a job at the Department of Motor Vehicles,” Lillian said. “They have you filling out forms night and day.”

  Ezra looked at her fondly. “And that’s hardly the worst of it. I’m sorry I put such a scare into everyone.”

  “We’re just glad that it wasn’t that serious and you can leave so quickly,” Emily replied. “It’s good that you’re getting released today, before the bad weather moves in. They’re talking up this storm like crazy. Tomorrow morning we’re having a meeting of the village’s Emergency Readiness Committee.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard the reports. Do you think it will be all that bad?” Lillian asked. “What should we do, get some flashlights? I can live without the phone and TV, that doesn’t make much difference to me.”

  “I’ve already brought over what you need, Mother.”

  Emily was so efficient and organized. Takes after me, Lillian thought proudly, though she would never admit such a thing to Emily.

  “I am looking forward to going home, no matter what the weather will be,” Ezra said. “Will Estrella be there when we get back?”

  Lillian felt herself bristle at the question, though she knew it was a perfectly logical one. On Thursday night, she had nearly fired the woman. Now here it was, Sunday afternoon, and Estrella was indispensable.

  When she didn’t answer right away, Emily replied, “I gave her some time off. She’s with her family now, but she said to call when you’re released and she’ll come right over.”

  “Good. I want to thank her, face-to-face. Maybe we should give her a raise, Lily. What do you think of that?”

  Lillian glanced over at him, wondering if he was joking. He was perfectly serious. “Let’s just get home and settle in,” she suggested.

  But Ezra was obviously feeling better, because he wouldn’t let it go. “She’s passed her probation with flying colors, hasn’t she?”

  Lillian gave a reluctant shrug. “I suppose so.”

  Ezra just laughed at her.

  She tried to answer with a scowl, but finally, couldn’t help smiling. It was good to hear him laughing agai
n . . . even if it was at her expense.

  Chapter Eight

  LILLIAN HAD MADE LIGHT OF THE WEATHER REPORTS. THESE predictions were so often way off the mark. She didn’t understand why these overpaid announcers called themselves weather forecasters at all. They should be called weather guessers, she thought. Or weather actors; they tended to get so dramatic over even a few raindrops.

  But the rain did start Monday in the late afternoon, as predicted. She heard it falling, lightly at first, pattering against the living room windows. Ezra was taking a break from his room and a break from their usual gin rummy game. Instead, they decided to play Scrabble . . . and he was beating her.

  “Rain is starting, just like they said,” Ezra noted. He was lying across the sofa with his broken leg propped up and his good arm able to reach the game board, though he still needed help setting his letters down.

  “Yes, I see. Are you going to put your word down any time soon? I’ve forgotten altogether what we’re doing.” She hadn’t really; but just wanted to needle him.

  “P, E, C, and U,” he said, handing her the tiles for his word. “Just tack those in front of LIAR, over there, and I’m in business.”

  “‘Peculiar,’ very good,” she grumbled, adding up his points.

  His lead was growing. She had to step up her game.

  She would be glad when those casts came off and he was mobile again. The X-rays last week showed he was healing well. That was good news.

  “Sounds icy,” Ezra noticed, talking about the rain again.

  “It does,” she agreed, looking over her letters. The drops hit the glass with a sharp sound, like tiny stones. “Not a night to be out driving around. Everyone’s made such a big deal of it, I imagine people will leave work early.”

  “I imagine so,” Ezra agreed. “Maybe we should tell Estrella to go home to her family tonight. They might need her.”

  Lillian sat up straight, fussing with her tiles. “What about us? We need her, don’t we? I realize it’s only a little rain now, but what if the power goes out? Then we’ll really need her. We can barely get around in the light.”

  She really needed a Q. She would have been able to put down the word “quark,” and on a triple-point space, too. Otherwise, all she had going was “ark.” Pathetic.

  “All right, let’s play it by ear,” he suggested.

  Which was what he always said when he didn’t feel entirely settled about an idea and planned to debate it further.

  “All I have is ‘ark.’ Here . . .” She set down the letters, then rose to fill her teacup.

  Estrella had brought in a tray for them a short time ago with hot tea and a berry crumble with yogurt topping. No sugar in it, or butter. Just some cinnamon and granola stuff to make it crunchy on top. Hardly to her taste, but Ezra couldn’t eat any sweets right now, so she had to make do.

  “More tea?” she asked him.

  “No, thank you.” He was focused on his letters, and she dreaded to see what he would come up with.

  She pulled the curtain aside to get a better look at the rain. It was coming down harder now, icy pellets coating the lawn and walk. The leaves on the holly bush near the window and the bare branches of trees were already coated, as if encased in glass.

  The wind seemed stronger, too, branches swaying to and fro. A very large branch had landed on their lawn, torn and raw-looking where the fresh wood showed. It hadn’t been some deadwood that would have fallen anyway. The wind had torn it right off. The realization alarmed her.

  She watched a large town utility truck drive past the house, rocking from side to side. The she glanced up at the power lines. They were swaying a bit, too, she noticed. But don’t they always?

  The wind was fierce, no doubt about that. And the storm was building. How strong it would get was the question.

  Estrella came in carrying a paper cup filled with pills and a glass of water. “Time for your medication, Dr. Ezra; and I need to check your signs.”

  “Perfect timing—I’m just about to put down the word of the game. Let’s see if Mrs. Elliot can top this.” Ezra glanced at Lillian with a glint in his eye, then back at Estrella.

  Lillian sighed aloud. How he showed off for her, the old fool. It had gotten even worse after his hospital stay. Lillian could barely stand to hear them carry on. But what could she do? Estrella was his hero now, his star. And a person could just gag on these healthy recipes she was cooking.

  “I’m shivering in my boots, Ezra. What have you got?”

  “‘Quixotic’ . . . and I get a fifty-point bonus for using up all my tiles on one turn.”

  “Oh blast . . . You had the Q. I should have known,” Lillian groused. Had he really just scored seventy-six points on one turn? Lillian quickly checked her math. Ezra was a sleeper. But he could surprise you. No wonder she had married him.

  She was losing so badly now, she lost interest. While Estrella checked his pulse and blood pressure, Lillian looked for the remote. “Let’s see what the weather watchers have to say. I guess we need to know how long this is going to last.”

  She switched on the set and found the weather station. A brightly colored map of the area appeared. There was some official-sounding talk about pressure systems and wind velocities. “. . . And because of the full moon tonight and the tide schedule, there are flood warnings all along the coastline. See those areas marked in red? Residents should evacuate and head to local shelters . . . ”

  “Evacuate? What are they talking about?” Lillian looked at her husband.

  “Do they mean us, Lillian?” Ezra sounded alarmed as well; his good cheer from beating her at Scrabble had quickly evaporated.

  “I don’t think so . . . I’ve never heard of such a thing, and I’ve lived in this town for over fifty years.” But Cape Light was on the weather map and was definitely in the red zone. She wasn’t running to any drafty high school gymnasium tonight, that was for sure. She didn’t want to believe the weather report . . . and yet, she didn’t think she should ignore it entirely either.

  “I’ll call your daughter Emily, Mrs. Elliot,” Estrella said. “She will have the best news about this area.”

  “Good idea, Estrella,” Ezra said at once. “Call Emily. She’ll know what to do.”

  Lillian begrudgingly nodded her assent.

  Once again, Estrella was saving the day. I should have expected that, Lillian silently fumed.

  * * *

  “I JUST PICKED UP BETTY AT SCHOOL. I THINK YOU SHOULD COME home. I’ll come and get you. I’m still in town.” Amanda’s mother was calling from her SUV and sounded in a dither about the weather. Amanda had just finished planning the next service with Reverend Ben and was in the sanctuary reviewing some hymns on the piano. She had heard the rain pattering against the church roof but didn’t think much of it.

  “Why do you have to pick me up? I can drive myself home.” She glanced at her watch. It was only half past three on a Monday afternoon. The nursery school had let out, and Reverend Ben had left to visit someone in the hospital. Mrs. Honeyfield was still in the church office. She didn’t seem worried.

  “Not in that little car. You’ll never make it. The roads are awful, Amanda. There are tree limbs down everywhere, and wires. Just listen to me, all right? Tell Reverend Ben you should all go home, right now.”

  “He’s gone. He had to visit someone in the hospital. Only Mrs. Honeyfield is still here.”

  “She is?” Her mother sounded surprised and even more alarmed. “Tell her I’ll bring her home, too. She shouldn’t try to drive in this either.”

  Amanda was about to reply when Mrs. Honeyfield poked her head into the sanctuary. “I just spoke to the reverend. He said to close up the church and go. It’s just awful out there. All of a sudden, too.”

  The secretary did sound frightened. She already wore her hat, gloves, and coat, buttoned to the chin. Before Amanda could reply, she heard a gust of wind whistling and then pound against a sanctuary window. There was the sound of cracking glass, a
nd a few pieces of stained glass flew out and landed on the floor. From one of Amanda’s favorite windows, too—the golden and blue one with the white dove.

  Mrs. Honeyfield gasped. “Oh my heavens, look at that!”

  “Manda? Are you still there? What’s happening?” Molly was calling to her through the phone.

  “Yes, I’m here, Mom . . . It’s okay. A piece of the window in the sanctuary broke, but we’re all right. Mrs. Honeyfield is with me. We’re going to leave right away.”

  “Look for me in the parking lot, behind the church. Go to the door nearest the green,” her mother instructed her.

  Amanda agreed and ended the call. She looked up at Mrs. Honeyfield, who had retreated to the sanctuary doorway. Amanda walked quickly toward her and shut off the lights. “My mom says not to drive. She’ll pick us up in her SUV. It’s super big and great in bad weather.”

  “She will? What a blessing. My little car isn’t very good in the rain, and it’s worse with ice. I was about to call my husband, but I didn’t want him out in this either. He’d get blown right off the road.”

  It was very dark outside for half past three, Amanda thought, even for a winter day. The wind off the water pressed them against the side of the building while icy pellets of rain stung her face. Amanda had to hold her hand up to shield her skin and could barely keep her eyes open. But she wanted to see. The storm was so awesome, so powerful. She had never seen anything like it.

  The sound of the wind roared through the trees on the village green. The stately old oaks and elms, so tall and grand, hundreds of years old, were swaying back and forth, as if they were blades of tall grass. Broken bits of branches, leaves, and debris were scattered all over the green. At least one of the big trees had fallen, pulled up out of the ground. The pile of dirt and tree roots had to be at least ten feet high, Amanda thought, the broken tree extending at least fifty feet or more, breaking down benches and the playground fence in its toppled path.