“This was an inter-island flight,” he told her. “A small plane.”
Her knees seemed to melt, giving way as she sank down to the hard floor. “What did you say? Tell me again. Who are you? Where are you calling from?”
He went through the unfamiliar names once more, but now it felt as if her head was spinning, as if her whole world was spinning. This had to be a bad dream. A very bad dream.
“But my brother and sister-in-law aren’t staying in the place you mentioned,” she said eagerly. “You must have the wrong people. Michael and Miri are staying at a resort in Turks and Caicos,” she proclaimed. “I have the phone number right here and—”
“Yes, I’m sorry to be unclear. Mr. and Mrs. Milligan were not staying here on our island. They were passengers on a flight that goes past here. The plane was en route. The destination was Turks and Caicos. I called the hotel there and they gave me this phone number so that I could inform you of this tragedy. I am so sorry.”
“But how?” she demanded. “How could this happen?” She remembered the line she’d used hundreds of times to soothe nervous passengers: “Airline travel is safer than driving our freeways.”
“They believe the airplane experienced a mechanical problem. A cruise ship witnessed the explosion right before it went down a few miles north of Saint Eustatius. There was a search . . . and I am sorry to inform you there were no survivors.”
“But that—that’s impossible.” She rubbed her head, trying to absorb this, knowing it couldn’t be true. Michael and Miri . . . they couldn’t be dead. Someone had made a mistake. A horrible, cruel mistake.
Once again, the police chief conveyed his sympathies, but then he told her to take down some phone numbers. With trembling legs, she stood up and walked to the dining room table, where she picked up a red crayon and a scrap of yellow construction paper, writing down the long numbers he was giving her. Then, after she questioned him again, he assured her that all he was saying was true.
“I am very sorry to be the bearer of such tragic news,” he said finally. “If you have any more questions, please call the numbers I gave you. Again, I am so very sorry for your loss.”
“Yes . . . yes . . . thank you.” Her voice choked and tears began to stream down her cheeks as she eased herself into a straight-backed dining room chair. Feeling shaky and sickened, she hung up the phone and just sat there staring at it. Did that really just happen? Was it real? Or was she asleep and simply having a horrible nightmare?
She looked at the phone still in her hand and pushed the caller ID button, seeing that the strange phone number did match the one she’d written down on the yellow paper. Of course it was true. She knew she was awake. She leaned her head forward until it thumped onto the hard, cold glass of the table and allowed the tears to flow freely. She sobbed and moaned and cried, asking herself again and again—how could this happen? Why, why, why? It was bad enough that she should lose her only living relative—besides Holly—but for Holly to lose both of her parents all at once, well, that was just wrong—wrong—wrong!
2
Most people had family to call in tragic moments like this. They had mothers or fathers or siblings or aunts or grandmothers . . . but Rachel had none of these. All she had for family was Michael and Miri and Holly. And now she only had Holly. She tiptoed down the hallway to check on Holly, worried that she might’ve woken and overheard some of the painful conversation or Rachel’s breakdown, but the sweet girl was still sleeping. Illuminated by her Dora the Explorer nightlight, she looked peaceful and serene. Poor Holly. Just like that, she had become an orphan.
Rachel went back to the great room, pacing back and forth and wringing her hands, trying to determine what she should do. She felt she needed to do something. Or talk to someone.
Finally, she decided to phone her best friend, Kayla. “I’m sorry to call so late,” she began.
“Hey, it’s not that late,” Kayla said cheerfully. “Is it even midnight? You’re still in the city, aren’t you? Why don’t you come down here and meet us at—”
“I need to talk to you,” Rachel interrupted. “Something—something really, really terrible has happened and I need someone to—” She was sobbing again, trying to speak but unable to make herself understood. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “It’s just so awful.”
“What is it?” Kayla asked with concern. “Are you all right? Should I call 9-1-1? Is Holly all right?”
“Don’t call 9-1-1,” Rachel told her.
“Are you still at Michael’s? Do you want me to come over?”
“Can you?” Rachel asked desperately.
“Yes, of course. I’m not even that far away. I’ll grab a taxi and pop over.”
“Thank you.” Rachel closed her phone and sank into the Eames chair, staring at the Christmas tree through her tears, which had transformed it into a wild, blurry wash of color. It looked so unreal she began to hope, once again, that this truly was a dream. However, she felt certain it was not. She closed her eyes and attempted to calm herself by taking some slow, deep breaths.
———
When she heard someone at the door, she leaped up and hurried to let Kayla in. Seeing her friend’s concerned expression, Rachel started to cry all over again.
Kayla grabbed her and hugged her. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay,” she soothed.
“It’s so awful,” Rachel said. “I just needed someone to talk to.”
“Tell me what’s happened,” Kayla said with her arms still around Rachel, guiding her over to the couch. “Tell me why you’re so upset. I’ve never seen you like this.” She eased her down and sat next to her. “What is it?”
The story poured out of Rachel, the words spilling out like a broken bag of marbles, and Kayla just listened with wide eyes. “Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry,” she said finally. “That’s just horrible. Poor Holly. Does she know yet?”
Rachel shook her head and blew her nose. “I have no idea how I’m going to tell her.”
“Well, there’s no reason to wake her now.”
“I guess not . . . but she’ll need to know soon.”
Kayla looked at the tree and sighed. “This is going to ruin her Christmas.”
“Not to mention her life.” Rachel pulled out another tissue. “I’ve got to get myself together. For Holly’s sake I’ve got to be strong.”
“Yes.” Kayla gently rubbed Rachel’s shoulder. “And you will. You’ll be strong for her. I know you will.”
“Just like Michael was strong for me when our mother died.” Rachel wiped her eyes.
Kayla nodded. “That’s what family does.”
Rachel knew that Kayla had a big family—the kind of supportive family that rallied around whenever something big happened, whether good or bad. Rachel had no idea what that would feel like, but sometimes she’d been envious.
“So will you adopt Holly?” Kayla asked. “I assume you’re all she has.”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “At least we’ll have each other. That’s something.”
“You and Holly have always been so simpatico,” Kayla pointed out.
“I know. We’ve always had this great connection. If I ever had a daughter, I’d imagine her to be just like Holly.”
“Whenever anyone sees you two together, they always assume you’re her mother.”
Rachel sniffed. “Yes . . . but a mother is hard to replace.”
“Even so, she’s blessed to have you, Rachel. You’ll be a great mother to her.”
“I’m blessed to have her too.” Rachel brightened ever so slightly. Despite the horrible tragedy, the idea that she would be wholly responsible for Holly was a huge comfort. She couldn’t even imagine how difficult this would be if Holly had been taken from her too.
“I assume your brother had life insurance to provide for Holly.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he did. Michael was always uber-responsible like that.” Except for this time, she thought sadly, when he hopped on an inter-island flight in the mid
dle of the Caribbean.
Kayla waved her hand around the room. “I assume you’ll get to keep this too.”
Rachel blinked. “I don’t know about that. This is a pretty expensive apartment.”
“But with their insurance and all, it seems like it would be a good idea to just stay put,” Kayla suggested, “for Holly’s sake.”
Rachel considered this. “Well, it does make sense to keep her in her regular routines . . . and in her same school.” She shrugged. “Hopefully, we can stay here for a while anyway. Even if we had to sell it, I’m sure it would take some time. Maybe until the end of her school year. Then we might need something more modest.”
They continued talking about the practicalities of what Rachel would do next, and eventually it all seemed to sift down into a somewhat feasible plan. By the time Kayla left—in the wee hours of the morning, since she had a flight later in the day—Rachel felt she had an actual plan to work from. On Monday she would give her notice at work. If she fully explained the situation to her supervisor, she felt certain she wouldn’t be expected to return to work at all. She would also give up her room at the house she shared with the other flight attendants. Kayla already knew another employee who was looking for a place close to O’Hare. Kayla even offered to help Rachel pack up if she could wait until Kayla’s day off. As Rachel finally sank into the guest room bed, she felt utterly exhausted and incredibly sad, but at least she had a plan.
———
“Aunt Rachel?” Holly said quietly, gently tapping Rachel’s cheek with her little fingers. “Time to get out of bed, sleepyhead.”
Rachel blinked and sat up. “Morning,” she croaked back at her.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Holly chirped back. She had her favorite stuffed toy, a gently worn butterscotch-colored rabbit, in her arms. “Bunny and I already went out to see our Christmas tree together. The lights were still on.”
Rachel shoved her feet into the pair of Uggs she’d left next to the bed. “Uh-oh. I must’ve forgotten to turn them off last night.”
“I think we should leave them on all the time,” Holly told her. “Day and night.”
“And I think we should make some breakfast.” Rachel reached for the old plaid flannel robe she’d scavenged from Michael’s castoffs many years ago. Pulling it on, she tied the belt snugly around her waist and tried not to cry as the thought of never seeing her big brother again hit her.
“Are you sad, Aunt Rachel?” Holly was studying her carefully.
Rachel forced a weak smile. “Maybe . . . a little.”
“Did you have a bad dream?”
Rachel nodded. “Yes, I think I did.” She swallowed against the tears threatening to spill. How was she supposed to do this—how was she supposed to break this horrible news?
Holly put her arms around Rachel’s waist, hugging her. “It’ll be all right.”
Rachel knelt down and hugged her niece back. “Thanks, honey. I needed that.”
“I know what we should do,” Holly said as she led Rachel by the hand into the kitchen. “We should have blueberry pancakes for breakfast. Okay?”
“Sure.” Rachel went directly for the espresso maker, routinely going through the steps while Holly chattered away at her about how she only got to have pancakes when Rachel was there and how she sometimes liked them with blueberries, but sometimes she didn’t. How was it possible for a small child to have so much to say? Still, it was cheerful and much better than silence. She tried to form the words in her head, but every sentence sounded even worse than the one before. How did one tell a child her parents were dead?
Before long, they were seated at the breakfast bar with their pancakes, minus the blueberries, and eating companionably together. For a brief spell, Rachel blocked out the elephant in the room. As she sipped her espresso, she realized it wouldn’t be too hard to get used to this—the idea of quitting her job in order to play the parent to this loquacious child, giving up her shared house to live in a swanky city apartment that overlooked the river . . . it was all rather appealing. That is until the harsh reality hit her all over again. The ache she felt, knowing how she’d arrived at this place, seemed to choke out all sense of pleasure. How was she going to tell Holly?
“Is it Sunday today?” Holly asked as they carried their dishes to the kitchen sink.
“Uh-huh.”
“Will we go to church?”
Rachel paused to look down at Holly. She hadn’t really planned to go to church, but all things considered, it was probably a good idea. Maybe she would find the strength and the answers there. If nothing else, it would postpone the inevitable. “Yes. We will definitely go to church.”
“We don’t always go to church,” Holly pointed out. “But sometimes we do.”
“Well, I think we need to go today.” Rachel looked at the clock in the kitchen, a sleek glass piece with no numbers, but still she could tell it was about nine-thirty, which meant they had about an hour. “We’ll need to hurry to get ready, and I still need a shower.”
She helped Holly find an appropriate outfit, laying it all out on her bed, then hurried to shower and dress herself. Yes, the idea of going to church today was suddenly very appealing. She sometimes felt guilty for all the times she’d missed church because of her erratic work schedule, but at the same time, she’d always believed that God understood such things. However, as she was getting dressed, she questioned herself. How well did she understand God? Why would he allow the plane carrying Michael and Miri to go down like that? How was she supposed to understand and accept that? How would Holly?
At just a little before eleven o’clock, Rachel and Holly were walking into the frosty churchyard. This was the same church that Rachel and Michael and their mother had attended so many years ago. The same church where they’d attended their mother’s funeral, and where Michael and Miri had said their wedding vows, and now it would be the location for yet another memorial service. Rachel walked Holly downstairs to where the children’s classes were held, then hurried back up in time for the beginning of the service. Glancing around the sanctuary, she could see that little had changed in here, but because she came so seldom, the faces seemed less familiar. And yet, as she slid into the pew, she felt strangely at home.
As the organist played an old hymn, Rachel remembered when she was a girl how her mother would sometimes slip her arm around her, snuggling her up close. Whether it was her imagination or not, Rachel felt a surprising sense of warmth just now—almost as if her mother were trying to comfort her, as if she understood. As if, in a way, she were here.
Rachel had slipped a small bundle of tissues into her purse, and as the old pastor, Reverend Hanson, began his sermon, talking about finding precious treasures in unexpected places, she allowed her tears to start flowing freely again. She didn’t even care if others in the congregation could hear or see her. Really, if you couldn’t cry in church, where could you cry?
After the service ended, a couple of older women came over to speak to her. They seemed vaguely familiar, but she didn’t recall exactly who they were. They reintroduced themselves as Viola and Mabel. They claimed they remembered her mother and how sad it was when she passed. Hearing this, Rachel decided to open up, telling them of this most recent tragedy.
“Oh, you poor baby.” Viola wrapped her big brown arms around her in a warm bear hug. “You poor, poor dear.”
“And my niece is downstairs right now,” Rachel sobbed. “I haven’t even told her yet.”
Now both of the women hugged her, holding her between them like two mother hens. Then they ushered her directly to Reverend Hanson, who was standing in the back. Viola quickly explained Rachel’s situation to him, and he too hugged Rachel, expressing sympathy, then prayed for her and for Holly.
“Thank you.” She wiped her eyes with the last of her wad of tissues. “Thank you all.” She gave them a shaky smile. “I really appreciate your support. I needed that.”
“And you’ll call me to schedule the memorial
service tomorrow morning?” Reverend Hanson reminded her. “I’m not positive, but I believe the church is available on Thursday morning. If you think that’s okay, I can pencil it in.”
“That’s probably fine, but I will call you.”
“We’ll arrange with the women to have meals delivered to you and Holly for the next two weeks.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.”
“You must allow us do this,” Mabel insisted. “It’ll be one less thing for you to concern yourself with.”
“And we’ll organize a lunch to follow the memorial service on Thursday,” Viola said.
“But I—”
“Don’t argue with your elders.” Mabel shook a friendly finger at her. “You don’t have your mother around to help you out, so why not let us?”
Rachel nodded, thanking them again. “I better go get Holly before she starts getting worried.”
“We’ll be praying for you, dear,” Viola assured her as they accompanied her to the stairs. “For both you and little Holly.”
“Yes.” Mabel nodded so eagerly her chins shook. “We will pray that God gives you just the right words for the child.”
“Are there any right words?” Rachel asked them.
Viola held up her hands. “I don’t know about that, but I do believe love speaks louder than words. And it’s plain to see you’ve got plenty of that.”
Fortunately, Holly wasn’t the last child in the classroom. She seemed intent on finishing up the nativity scene she was coloring, so Rachel didn’t even bother to rush her. Instead she wandered around the room, remembering how she had attended Sunday school in this same room three decades ago. Like the rest of the church, not much had changed here either. Even though it seemed a little faded and dowdy, it was comforting. Rachel had almost forgotten those days. But, as Holly’s godmother and now her guardian, she would see to it that Holly grew up getting all the spiritual training necessary to ensure a happy and healthy life.
Holly chatted cheerfully and obliviously as they rode the train back into the city. The whole while, Rachel felt distracted as she tried to formulate a plan for telling Holly about her parents’ deaths. She knew this was not going to be easy. She couldn’t keep putting it off, but then instead of going directly to the apartment, Rachel decided to stop at one of the nearby restaurants for some lunch. That way Holly would have something in her stomach before hearing the bad news.
A Simple Christmas Wish Page 2