The Angel Tree

by Daphne Benedis-Grab

  “Yes, of course I wish Cami was more like that,” her grandmother said. “Willa is just so poised and focused on the things that matter in life.”

  Cami froze. Her cousin Willa was two years older than Cami and the shining star of the family. She got straight As, was captain of the chess club, a top member of the Mathletes, and had recently begun to volunteer at the hospital near their house in Pittsburgh. Cancer didn’t have a chance now that the mighty Willa was going after it.

  “Cami’s always off playing her violin,” her grandmother went on with a dismissive sniff. “Instead of being practical and helpful, like Willa … Mmhmm … I’m sure she’ll grow up sometime. I just hope that time comes sooner than later.”

  Cami sank down on the stairs. She leaned her pounding forehead against the bannister and tried to wrap her mind around what she had just overheard. Of course Cami had always known she wasn’t like the rest of her family. She was pretty much the opposite of her practical grandmother, an ex-accountant who kept a clean house, cooked healthy, economical meals, and wore rain boots if there was a single cloud in the sky. And she was nothing like her no-nonsense aunt Aisha, a hard-working lawyer, or perfect Willa. Cami was the artist and she had always felt a bit proud of that.

  But now Cami had heard the truth about what her grandmother thought and suddenly everything she’d been devoted to felt silly, like a kid believing Disneyland was the real world.

  Cami looked at her violin case and a feeling of shame crept over her. Was her music just a stupid childish thing? Maybe she did need to change, to grow up, as her grandmother said. And maybe the time to do that was now.

  Lucy had gone to the Angel Tree the second school let out on Thursday, her wish clutched in her hand, the snow falling softly on her face as she secured the paper to a springy branch, breathing in the smell of pine in the quiet square. She knew her wish was a lot to ask at a time when so many Pine River families were struggling to get by. Perhaps even too much. Lucy wasn’t sure. The one thing she did know was that her beloved pet was running out of time.

  She could feel it in her bones as she and Valentine trudged home on Friday afternoon. Her dog was moving slower than ever.

  And then suddenly, on the sidewalk along Main Street, Valentine stumbled slightly and let out a small bark. Lucy tried to stay calm, but panic made it hard to breathe as she ripped off her gloves and ran her hands over the dog’s soft fur, taking special care to see if something had gotten stuck in one of her paws.

  “Is everything okay, Lucy?”

  Lucy recognized the musical voice of Alma Sanchez, one of the people who organized town events like the Christmas Gala.

  “I’m not sure,” Lucy said. There was a sweet trickle of relief knowing that a grown-up she trusted, who could see, was there to help. But her hands were shaking as she stood up. “I think something hurt Valentine but I can’t figure out what.”

  “Let’s take a look,” Ms. Sanchez said calmly, her coat rustling as she knelt down next to Valentine. “What do you say, sweet girl, can I take a look at you?”

  Lucy liked how Ms. Sanchez talked to Valentine, but she couldn’t help noticing that Valentine didn’t thump her tail in response. Valentine always thumped her tail happily when people spoke to her.

  “Hm, I can’t find anything,” Ms. Sanchez said after a moment. “Everything seems to be fine. Do you think perhaps she just tripped and it surprised her?”

  Lucy knew that was not the case but to tell Ms. Sanchez the truth, to put into words the fear that now gripped her with iron strong fingers, was more than she could bear. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” she said.

  “Can I help you with anything else?” Ms. Sanchez asked.

  “No, but thank you,” Lucy said. She picked up Valentine’s lead in her shaky hands and headed home. Ms. Sanchez’s words had confirmed Lucy’s fears. The yelp of pain did not have to do with an injury. It was from the illness. Valentine was starting to suffer from the disease that was going to take her away from Lucy forever.

  As they walked, Lucy murmured words of comfort to Valentine, even though she could barely hold herself together. The important thing was to get Valentine home and then have her parents call the vet to see what could be done to ease Valentine’s pain. The one crucial thing the whole family had agreed upon was that they must be sure Valentine never, ever suffered. So Lucy did not, could not, think about what it might mean if the vet was unable to stop the pain that had made Valentine whimper on their walk home.

  The thing she clung to as they slowly made their way home was the Angel Tree. Now, more than ever, she needed her wish to come true.

  Lucy slowly followed Valentine up the wooden porch steps and jiggled the key in the sticky lock of their heavy front door. When it swung open, an unusual fragrance greeted her. Under the normal aromas of orange all-purpose cleaner and freshly dried laundry, mixed with the scent of a chicken roasting in the oven for dinner, were the sharp smell of disinfectant and the sweet fragrance of perfume. And Lucy’s mother did not wear perfume.

  “Lucy, is that you?” her dad called. “There’s a wonderful surprise.”

  Lucy’s heart was suddenly racing in her chest. The perfume could be anyone but disinfectant — that would mean a doctor or —

  “It’s Dr. Lazarus with incredible news,” her father went on. “She’s here to pick up Valentine for her surgery first thing tomorrow morning. It’s all been taken care of — the surgery, the medication, everything.”

  Lucy’s throat was too thick to speak and tears ran down her face. She knelt down and hugged Valentine, who licked the tears of joy from Lucy’s cheeks.

  Her dad bent down and rubbed Lucy’s back. “Dr. Lazarus says we’re well within the time frame to save Valentine. She’s going to need a week or so to recover from the surgery and then we’ll need to give her chemo pills. Luckily, the chemo doesn’t usually affect pets the way it affects humans, so we can hope that Valentine won’t experience any side effects ….” He must have noticed that Lucy was too overwhelmed to absorb any of the details. “She’s going to be fine, Sweetness. Valentine is going to be with us for a long time to come.”

  Lucy struggled to her feet. “Thank you,” she said, though the words didn’t begin to express how grateful she was.

  “It’s one of the angels who deserves your thanks,” the vet said, resting a gentle hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “One of them plucked your wish from the Angel Tree and came by my office first thing this morning to set everything up. And your dad is right, Lucy: Valentine is going to be better than ever once we get that tumor out of her.”

  Lucy helped Dr. Lazarus and her father load Valentine into a travel crate and then listened as they discussed final details.

  “The tumor is close enough to the surface that the surgery is not hugely invasive,” Dr. Lazarus said as she put on her coat and readied for the trip to her office just outside town. “So the recovery should be fast. We’ll have her on a precautionary antibiotic and, of course, the chemo pills. You’ll need to get those from the drugstore but I’ve already put in the first order and the VonWolfs will have everything you need by tomorrow. And you should be able to pick Valentine up Monday afternoon!”

  The information washed over Lucy as she crouched, petting Valentine through the slats of the crate.

  “All right, we’re ready to roll,” Dr. Lazarus said.

  Lucy gave her dog’s wet nose an extra little pat. “Dr. Lazarus is going to make you better,” she whispered to Valentine, who gave a short bark of protest at being shut in the crate.

  Lucy laughed. “Don’t worry, Valentine, you’ll be out of there and back home before you know it.” The words were like honey on her tongue.

  Lucy’s dad helped the vet roll the crate down to the car and then load it in the trunk. Lucy heard the purr of the engine and the crunch of the tires over the frozen driveway.

  “My wish came true,” Lucy said. She thought of the candied orange her birth mother had given her, and the sweetness and good
fortune that had come to visit her. She thought of her dog tucked safely in the vet’s car, nearing the office where her disease would be cured. And she thought of the next weeks and months and even years that she would now be able to share with her treasured dog.

  But mostly she thought about the Angel Tree and how incredibly grateful she was for the wondrous gift it had given her.

  The night Cami overheard what her grandmother really thought of her violin, she’d lain awake in the quiet dark of her bedroom, restless and miserable. She’d thought about saying something to her grandmother, but she felt too hurt to even know where to begin. Then, sometime around midnight, she’d come to a decision: She was not going to be the fool of her family, the one who wasted time playing a silly instrument while Willa helped doctors find a cure for cancer and heart attacks and whatever other practical, helpful things she did at the hospital. The old Cami who wasted hours practicing was gone and a new Cami was coming to town, a Cami even more helpful and practical than Willa herself.

  It was just a question of making a few changes.

  The first step was the hardest: getting rid of her violin. But she’d done it. Saturday morning she had headed to the town pawnshop, Second Comings, violin in hand. When she’d entered the musty but cozy store, part of her had not believed that Yasmine Tennyson, who ran the shop, would actually take her violin. But after hesitating, the shop owner had agreed. In fact, that very afternoon she had called Cami to say that the violin had sold. Cami was unprepared, both for the sale and for the sickening feeling of regret that had flooded over her. But it had been too late to call things off.

  Now Cami kept reminding herself that this was for the best. She had gone into the store and collected her money, using it to buy practical, Willa-like gifts for her grandmother’s Christmas presents. Now all she had to do was find a project, something truly spectacular to show her grandmother just how focused and helpful she was.

  That Sunday night Cami helped her grandmother prepare their dinner of pork chops, green beans, and fresh-baked biscuits, and set the table without being asked.

  “My, you’re a help tonight,” her grandmother commented after they had said grace.

  “I want to do more around the house,” Cami said. She figured if she wanted to be useful, her own home was a good place to start. Plus she’d start to go slightly crazy sitting in her room alone, missing her violin.

  “That sounds lovely,” Cami’s grandmother said, but Cami noticed her frowning a bit as she passed Cami the platter of pork chops. It was probably because Cami wasn’t exactly the best kitchen helper. Thanks to her the beans were limp and overcooked and the biscuits had nearly burned. But she’d get better with practice, and her grandmother would be happy to have her help. So happy she might even want to boast about it to Aunt Aisha.

  “I didn’t hear you practicing,” her grandmother said as she neatly sliced a section of pork chop into bite-size chunks.

  The words cut into Cami now that she knew her grandmother’s true feelings about her violin. “I’m taking a bit of a break from violin,” Cami said. “I want to focus on other things.” She would wait until Christmas, when she had given her grandmother all the gifts she had bought, to tell her the violin was gone.

  Her grandmother’s brow furrowed. “What other things?” she asked.

  “Well, I want to bring my grades up,” Cami said. “See if I can get all As. And maybe I’ll start playing chess.”

  Her grandmother was staring at her like an alien had taken over Cami’s body. “You? The girl who ‘accidentally’ knocked the board off the table when your cousin tried to teach you to play, you play chess?”

  Well. This was not the reaction Cami had been hoping for. “I’m older now,” she informed her grandmother loftily. “I can see all the benefits of chess now.”

  Her grandmother raised an eyebrow. “And just what would those benefits be?”

  Cami couldn’t think of a single positive thing about chess, but she was saved by the ringing phone and her grandmother’s heated indignation at telemarketers calling during the dinner hour. As her grandmother slammed the phone down and launched into a rant, Cami’s thoughts drifted back to the fact that she needed to find a way to do something really, truly helpful, like Willa and the hospital. Something that would have her grandmother boasting to everyone in town about what a responsible, helpful granddaughter she had. Something better than limp green beans.

  Later that night Cami went down to kiss her grandmother before bed. She was peering at her email, her bifocals low on her nose. It always cracked Cami up to see her old-fashioned grandmother at the computer, but her grandmother liked to keep “current” and was an active member of her church’s online community and a regular at online mah-jongg.

  She was smiling as Cami walked over. “I just heard the nicest thing,” she said, clicking off the computer and taking off her glasses. “You remember how poor Julia Whittaker had decided she needed to find a new home for Pebbles because her arthritis is just too bad to take him out every day for walks?”

  Hm, Cami must have missed that. To be honest, she often tuned things out because she was running through pieces of music in her head. But she nodded anyway, wondering if maybe she could offer to walk Pebbles. That would be fun. Except for the cleaning up poop part.

  “Well, her son put a wish up on the Angel Tree, asking for a dog walker so that Julia could keep her dog,” her grandmother said. “And just a day later a nice high school student came knocking on her door, ready to take old Pebbles out for a romp. He’s been hired permanently by one of the angels.”

  “That’s great,” Cami said, a little disappointed to lose her opportunity to help, though a little relieved too.

  “That Angel Tree is a godsend,” her grandmother said, standing up and stretching a little. “Whoever is behind it sure is doing something wonderful for our town.”

  “Remember how when I was little I thought Santa set it up? I believed that for years.” Cami twisted one of her braids around her fingers. “Who do you think it really is?”

  “Well, that’s the mystery of it, isn’t it,” her grandmother said, heading to the kitchen for her nightly cup of peppermint tea. “But there sure are a lot of people who would like to give him or a her a hearty thanks.”

  Cami froze. That was it! That was what she could do to help! She could find the person who was behind the Angel Tree. Maybe she could get Max to help. And together they could arrange the biggest, best town-wide thank-you that had ever been.

  And that would have her grandmother bursting with pride.

  Joe was in a good mood as he headed down the hall of Pine River Middle School. The night before, Leon had allowed Joe to use his laptop for three hours. Joe had logged in immediately and spent the night playing online chess with Ariana, his closest friend from chess club back home in Virginia. They had IMed a little too, but when she kept asking about his new friends and if he had joined the chess club in Pine River, which she mistakenly called his new home, Joe had put all his energy into the game.

  A group of jock guys ran past, one bumping hard enough against Joe to cause him to stumble back. The guy’s friend high-fived him, just in case Joe thought that it had been an accident. Joe squared his shoulders and pulled his thoughts from the fun of the night before. Instead he focused on getting down the hall without suffering any more bodily harm.

  Once he reached his locker, he pulled out his books for his morning class, then checked the cell phone that he kept in the pocket of his backpack, the one that was only used in emergencies. He expected to see the usual picture of him and his mom at Virginia Beach that was his screen saver. But when the phone lit up, it showed that he had a message waiting.

  A cold sweat broke out on Joe’s forehead as he stared at the screen. It was possible that this was nothing, a telemarketer or a wrong number. But there was a chance that this was the call Joe had been dreading, confirming the fear that had hung over him like a thick fog every day since his mother had lef
t.

  This was how it was when the one parent you had was a United States Marine, putting her life in danger every day to serve the country she loved. Joe’s hands were shaky as he dialed his voice mail.

  “Hi, Love, it’s me.” Joe let out a long sigh of relief at his mom’s cheerful voice. “And I have the most wonderful news! You know how disappointed I was that we didn’t have the money for me to come home for Christmas. I hated the thought of being apart on our favorite holiday. But the most amazing thing has happened — a miracle really! I’m coming home for Christmas. An anonymous donor — something about an angel — called up the Marine Travel Office and made arrangements for me to fly straight to Pittsburgh. There’s a rental car waiting in my name and apparently the drive to Pine River is a quick ninety minutes north. So I’ll be there before the clock strikes midnight on Christmas Eve.” Her voice was choked up as she spoke the last words. “I’ll be with you, my darling boy, we’ll be together for Christmas.” The message clicked off and Joe blinked back tears.

  “The Angel Tree,” Joe whispered. When he had tied his wish to celebrate Christmas with his mom to the tree a few days ago, he hadn’t even allowed himself to hope that it might come true. But incredibly enough, it had. He would be together with his mother at Christmas, the one thing he wanted more than anything. His mother was right: It was a miracle and the best Christmas present ever.