by Myra Johnson
A sense of urgency prickled Natalie's insides. She'd so hoped for a stronger response from her mother, a clearer indication that coming home would spark the rapid recovery the whole family had been praying for. She tried to reassure herself that Mom just needed to regain her strength after being moved from the convalescent home.
But Christmas would be upon them in only two days. What if Mom didn't come around enough to be able to paint the fiftieth star? Lissa was right—that one simple act meant everything. Even if it took Dad, Hart, and Natalie to help Mom sit up and hold the paintbrush, she had to paint that star.
Carolyn began to hum softly, one of those catchy arrangements of a Christmas carol Natalie had heard playing endlessly on Deannie's radio at the print shop. An idea burst into her troubled thoughts. She spun around and hurried to the living room, where she selected a couple of Mom's favorite Christmas CDs from the storage carousel. She slid them into the stereo and hit the play button. In a moment the majestic chords of “Angels We Have Heard on High” poured from the speakers. She played with the volume knob until she found a level she thought could be comfortably heard down the hall in her mother's room. Surely, the Christmas music would lift Mom's spirits and help her find her way back to them.
And a little Christmas tree for the bedroom, that's what Mom needed. Somewhere in the attic Natalie's father had stored the small artificial tree she had decorated for her own room as a young girl, and there were plenty of extra lights and ornaments.
Half an hour later she had retrieved the dark-green, dust-covered plastic storage bag and emptied the misshapen tree and all its parts onto the kitchen floor. The stand had become so rickety that only duct tape held it together, but she could disguise the sticky gray layers by using one of Mom's extra Christmas tablecloths for a tree skirt. She wedged the metal tree trunk into the stand and then straightened and realigned the crushed branches. Wear and tear over the years had left them rather sparse, but lights and ornaments would fill in the gaps. In the hall closet she found the leftover decorations and soon had the little tree looking presentable.
With a ceremonial flourish, she carried it into her mother's room. “Carolyn, can you help me? I want to set this on the dresser where Mom can see it when she wakes up.”
The nurse offered a cheery smile as she set aside her knitting. “I'm enjoying the Christmas music too.” She moved a lamp and a stack of magazines to make room for the tree and helped Natalie arrange the brightly colored tablecloth around the base and find an outlet for the light cord.
“Do you think Mom can hear the music?” Natalie paused at the foot of the bed and gazed uneasily at her mother's sleeping form.
“I'm sure she can.” Carolyn touched Natalie's arm. “Your mother may not be able to express it, but I know she's grateful to be in her own home again, with her family around her.”
When are you going to face the truth, Natalie? That annoying little voice in her head refused to be silenced. She squeezed her fists until her nails dug into her palms and turned toward the brown-haired nurse, keeping her voice low. “You honestly don't think she's going to get better, do you?”
Carolyn's shoulders sagged. She signaled Natalie to join her in the hallway. “I could give you my professional opinion. I could tell you what her doctor has written in her chart. But I'm fairly certain that isn't what you want to hear.”
“Probably not.” Natalie inhaled a shivery breath and leaned against the doorframe. “But it's Christmas, right? Miracles happen.”
The nurse offered her a sad smile. “Yes. Sometimes they do.”
Daniel sat next to his daughter at the 8:30 church service, but his thoughts were anything but worshipful. He barely mumbled the words to the hymns, and when the pastor finished his sermon, Daniel knew he'd be hard pressed to recite any of the central points. He couldn't help but notice his daughter seemed equally preoccupied.
While the ushers collected the offering, he gave in fully to his wandering thoughts. Getting up early on Sunday morning was not his favorite thing to do, especially after a full week of school, usually with late nights and long weekends devoted to practices and games. But after Natalie left him, he couldn't bear the awkwardness of running into her at their usual eleven o'clock service. Lissa had put up a fuss, but Daniel insisted she'd have to settle for seeing her mother and the rest of the family during the Sunday-school hour.
Today, however, Lissa had talked him out of staying for Sunday school. The fidgeting girl simply couldn't wait to get back to the apartment to finish packing for her stay at the farm. Not that Daniel felt much like sitting through the adult singles class this morning. He'd never quite felt he belonged there, but he wasn't exactly half a couple any longer, either.
Leaving the sanctuary, they met Lissa's grandfather on his way to the senior adults' class. Lissa raced over and hugged him and asked how soon she could come out to the farm.
“Anytime you're ready, Grandma will be waiting.” Bram gave his granddaughter a hug back and a smile that carried more sadness than joy.
Daniel wondered at seeing his father-in-law at church this morning and said so when Hart, Celia, and the twins arrived moments later.
“You know Dad,” Hart said as they stood talking in the parking lot. “He'd have to be on his deathbed to miss Sunday services.” He cringed at his own choice of words.
“Dad, can we go now?” Lissa tugged on his coat sleeve. “I need to finish packing.”
“In a minute,” he snapped, instantly regretting how the curt response must have sounded to Hart and his family. Willing a calm he didn't feel, he aimed his key remote at the Bronco and pressed the unlock button. Lissa flounced past him, climbed into the vehicle, and cast him a hurry-up glare through the tinted glass. He pretended not to notice, saying to Hart, “I just hope your dad uses his worship time to pray about how to help Natalie face the truth about her mother.”
Hart glanced toward Celia. As if reading his mind, she ushered their lanky twin sons toward the church building. Then Hart shot Daniel a scathing look. “Lay off him, okay? You're so focused on Natalie, you're not seeing the big picture. Can't you see Dad is grieving? Don't you care what this whole thing is doing to him?”
“Of course I care. But it isn't doing anyone any good to deny the truth.” Daniel glanced over his shoulder at his daughter, her arched eyebrows screaming her impatience. “Lissa's expectations are even higher than Natalie's, if that's possible. I really dread taking her out there this afternoon.”
Hart kicked at a loose stone near the curb. “You just came from worship, right?”
“You know I did.” Daniel shot his brother-in-law a confused look.
“And you wouldn't be here if you didn't believe in Almighty God.”
His irritation grew. “Of course not.”
“Then act like you believe. Quit trying to take matters into your own hands and let God do his thing. Who knows? He might surprise us all.” Hart narrowed his eyes at Daniel as if daring him to respond. A moment later he stalked away, leaving Daniel stewing over the truth of his brother-in-law's words.
On the way home, he stopped at a gas station to fill the tank and run the Bronco through the automatic car wash. The delay only added more fuel to Lissa's seething impatience. They picked up a fast-food brunch of poached eggs and sliced ham on English muffins and returned to the apartment, where Lissa immediately wolfed down her meal and began hauling enough luggage to the door for a whole army of teenagers.
“Dad, come on,” she urged from the top step.
He dragged himself out of his recliner and played pack-horse, helping Lissa lug her things down to the car. Rolling Lissa's massive wheeled suitcase, he looked up to see her heave an overstuffed duffel bag into the Bronco. By the time he reached the car, she'd already run back for the last two bags and tossed them inside. Scowling by the open tailgate, she tapped her booted toe.
“All right already.” He hefted the suitcase and wedged it into the slot Lissa had saved for it in the back of the Bronco.
Getting in behind the wheel, he shut his eyes for a moment. Hart's words in the church parking lot still rang in his ears, and the truth stung. When had he gone from passive forbearance to pushing everyone to handle things his way? What made him suddenly think he had all the answers?
Silent night, holy night! … The beloved words of Belinda Morgan's favorite Christmas carol enveloped her like comforting arms. Even more lovely, she breathed in the blessed smells of home. Under her hand she recognized the feel of a favorite cotton quilt, one her own mother had made, worn soft from years of use.
She sensed a presence nearby but could not find the strength to open her eyes. A gentle hand brushed her cheek, adjusted her pillow, and tucked the quilt around her tired frame.
Natalie? Did she speak her daughter's name, or only think it? Nothing about her body seemed to work right anymore. She felt her useless head begin to rock, as it seemed to do so often of its own volition. Again, the gentle touch to still it.
“It's all right, Belinda. Just rest quietly.”
She should know the voice by now. Such a kind, gentle voice. Oh, yes, the nice lady named Carolyn, the nurse who did all the things for Belinda that she could no longer do for herself. She wished she could thank the woman for her tender ministrations.
“How's she doing?”
Oh, Natalie, there you are. Come and sit near me, my darling girl. We must talk.
“Still sleeping.”
“You'll call me if she should wake up?”
“Of course.”
But I am awake, can't you see? Natalie, please hear me.
There was so much she needed to make her daughter understand … so much left unsaid between them.
Oh, my dearest Natalie, this wasn't your fault, it was mine. I'd known for weeks that something wasn't right, but I didn't want to worry any of you—didn't want to admit it to myself. You mustn't blame yourself any longer. Your husband needs you. Lissa needs you. The whole family is counting on you now, more than you realize.
She felt her hand go into spasms. She clutched the quilt, grasping, clawing, reaching out in a desperate attempt to break out of this frightful state of not being.
All is calm, all is bright …
Another raspy cough strained her tired chest muscles. She must be calm, save what strength she had left. Lord, I'm not quite ready to come home to you. Much as I long to, I have unfinished business here.
She could almost hear the soft whisper of his reply. Don't worry, Belinda. When the time comes, you will have the strength you need.
As Natalie put away the leftovers from lunch, she heard a car in the driveway. She glimpsed Daniel's Bronco and hurried to greet her daughter at the door. “You're early,” she said, giving Lissa a hug. “I didn't expect you until later.”
“How's Grandma doing?” Without waiting for an answer she squirmed out of her mother's embrace and hurried toward the hallway.
“Hi to you too,” Natalie mumbled.
“Sorry, but Lissa couldn't wait any longer.” Daniel stood outside the screened porch next to a massive pile of luggage, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His breath formed clouds in the December air.
An awkward silence stretched between them. Natalie shivered as the cold edged its way inside. “Um, do you want to come in and warm up? I can stir up some hot chocolate.”
He looked uncertain, a kind of puppy-dog loneliness in his eyes that tugged at her heart. Still, she hoped he'd say no. Memories of yesterday's encounter outside the nursing home played in her mind, and she almost feared the nearness of him. Worse, she didn't want to risk their falling into the inevitable argument, especially with Christmas only a couple of days away and Mom right down the hall. She'd made up her mind to make this as pleasant and hope-filled a Christmas for their daughter—for the whole family—as she possibly could.
She came out of her brief mental fog to realize Daniel had opened the screen door and started inside with two of Lissa's bags. He propped them against the side of the refrigerator. “Sure, I'll stick around. Never been able to turn down your hot chocolate.”
“Okay, great!” Could she sound any more like a lovesick teenybopper? She cleared her throat and shifted her voice to a lower register. “I'll get it started while you bring in the rest of Lissa's things.”
As she set the teakettle to boil, she looked at the growing stack of luggage and wondered where in the world Lissa planned to put it all. Hart's old room was the smallest bedroom in the house.
Several minutes later, she sat across from Daniel at the oak table, marshmallows melting into a creamy froth in their steaming mugs. She blew gently and took a careful sip.
“How did your mom handle the move home?” Daniel asked.
She averted her eyes from his strong hands wrapped around the mug and the manly, curling hairs peeking from beneath the cuffs of his blue corduroy shirt. “She's been tired—not eating much.” She glanced toward the hallway, where sounds of Lissa's cheery chatter echoed. “But she's getting lots of rest, and I know she'll come around. It's almost Christmas,” she went on with a laugh that belied her doubts, “and when have you known my mother not to celebrate Christmas to its fullest?”
Daniel chuckled softly. “Never.”
“I've already been thinking about how she can paint the fiftieth star for the nativity scene. On Christmas morning we'll prop the backdrop beside her on the bed, and I'll help her hold the brush and guide her hand.” She smiled, her eyes misting, her heart clenching. “And that way she'll be able to keep her promise to Dad.”
“Fifty perfect Christmases. Can you believe it?” Daniel stared into his hot chocolate. His voice grew thick with emotion. “Dear God, I wish … ”
She stifled a tremor. “What? What do you wish, Daniel?”
He chewed his lip but did not meet her eyes. “Seeing how happy your parents have always been, I had dreams of you and me celebrating our fiftieth anniversary someday.”
The bitter taste of guilt rose in Natalie's throat. “And obviously I ruined it for us.” Too late to stop it, she heard the cynicism in her voice.
Apparently, Daniel heard it too. He snorted. “Heaven knows I did my best.”
Suddenly all rational thought flew from her mind, and raging self-pity flooded in. “Your best? You call moving to Putnam with Lissa and leaving me when I needed you the most, your best?”
“Leaving you?” His voice rose. He leaned forward, forearms pressed against the tabletop, hands fisted until his knuckles turned white. “I think you've got it backwards. You left me, remember?”
Her body tensed in response. She returned his angry glare. “I did not leave you. You made me move out.”
“As I recall, I told you that if you didn't want to be a wife and mother anymore, you'd better find another place to live, because somebody had to make a home for Lissa.”
Natalie trembled with rage and fought to keep from screaming her reply. The words came out in a strained, ragged whisper. “You never once tried to understand what I was going through, never—”
“Like you ever cared about my feelings, what I wanted.” He thrust himself backward and crossed his arms, the violent motion shaking the table and sloshing hot chocolate across the pinecone-print placemats.
“Coaching, that's all you ever think about.” She twisted sideways in her chair, hardly able to bear the sight of him. “One more scouting trip, one more win, one more chance to be picked up by a big-city high school.”
Daniel's jaw clenched. He sat forward again and drummed his fingers. “I was going to wait until things settled down after Christmas, but since you brought it up … I've had a job offer, a good one. It'll mean moving—”
She swung around to face him, her fury now laced with alarm. “Don't even think about taking Lissa with you. I'll sue for custody. I'll—”
Carolyn stepped into the kitchen. Her expression, though calm, held an urgency that abruptly silenced Natalie. “Mrs. Pearce, you'd better come quickly.”
20<
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Natalie sprang from the chair, talons of dread clawing at her throat. She rushed past Carolyn, barely hearing the nurse's request that Daniel call Natalie's father in from the barn and get word to Hart.
She slowed as she entered the bedroom. Her gaze took in the scene, and time seemed to stop. To her left, the lights on the misshapen miniature Christmas tree twinkled in merry oblivion, the dresser mirror reflecting the colorful display. A patchwork quilt outlined the shape of her mother's thin legs. The amber glow of the bedside lamp cast highlights on the woman's silver hair.
Lissa sat close to her grandmother, clutching the thin, age-spotted hands. “Grandma, hold on. You've got to,” she pleaded through her tears. “You promised.”
Carolyn touched Natalie's arm and drew her aside. Keeping her voice low, she explained, “Your mother is running a temperature, and her breath sounds are diminished. After her choking incident yesterday, I'm afraid it might be aspiration pneumonia. I've called her doctor and started oxygen.”
“Pneumonia?” The word wedged in Natalie's throat like a block of ice. She glimpsed the plastic tubing attached to a portable oxygen tank beside the bed. Her mother's chest rose and fell in ragged, shallow breaths. “Can't you do something else? What did the doctor say?”
“We'll start her on antibiotics and try to bring the fever down. I've raised the head of the bed to ease her breathing. Beyond that, it's a matter of keeping her comfortable.”
Mom's head lay weakly against the pillow. Perspiration dotted her temples. Her eyelids drooped heavily … and yet, as Natalie drew close, Mom's eyes seemed to focus clearly on her. Natalie placed one hand on Lissa's heaving shoulder and rested the other on her mother's bony arm. “It's okay, Mom. I'm here. I'll take care of you.”
Her mother's gaze filled with determination. The urgency spilled over into a choking cough and a fruitless attempt to speak. “Nnnaaaa. Luuuhh.”