Christmas at Grey Sage

by Phyllis Clark Nichols

  He looked at Henry. “Don’t know if you experienced this, Colonel, but seemed to me there was more bonding among the troops during Christmas or any of the holidays. We always shared that same aching and longing. Oh, we expressed it a little differently, but it was still there. Some looked for ways to make things better—like sharing something they received from home they wouldn’t normally share or being extra kind. Or decorating like your mountain boys did. Or talking about their families and past Christmases.

  “We didn’t have a meal like yours, sir. We still had our cafeteria food, but the servers wore Santa hats and laughed a lot, and maybe if you were lucky, you got a bigger slice of cake on Christmas. We turned on some Christmas music while the VIPs walked through on Christmas Day and shook a few hands, trying to encourage us. Oh, and we got to talk with our families back home, and Skype, but somehow that made things even harder. It made that place where we wanted to be seem so near, and yet it was a whole world away from us and we couldn’t get to it.” He looked at his mother, whose brow showed the pain of reliving these experiences. “I’m not sure how it was for my folks, but I don’t imagine it was much easier for them either.

  “Our enemies didn’t know or care if it was Christmas. The snipers were still at it, blowing up anything that crossed their paths, and we were being mortared constantly—thirty or forty times on that Christmas day. I just remember thinking no one should have to die on Christmas.”

  Kent cleared his throat again. “Our enemies were different than yours. Friends one day and enemies the next. Our medics would treat the wounded Iraqi civilians, and they would survive and praise us and thank us for our help. A month later, they’d be brought in as prisoners because they were trying to blow up our makeshift hospital. It’s hard fighting an enemy you don’t understand.” Kent wiped his eye and reached for his wallet in his hip pocket. “You’re right about hope, Colonel. It was all that kept us sane, and kept us getting up every morning and putting one foot in front of another and looking out for each other.”

  He pulled a worn piece of paper from his wallet. “I carry this with me. One of my best buddies was a doctor. He was a good man. We found time once in a while to ride bikes around the base together and just do simple, stupid stuff. We needed to do that. He had a wife and a little boy at home, but he didn’t make it back. He wrote this after a really hard day when he lost a patient—a little village boy about the age of his own son. Guess it was his way of coping. He gave it to me when one of my best buddies didn’t make it after a roadside bomb incident. My doctor friend had a way of making things real and simple, and he could always say things better than I could. He died himself about a month after he gave this to me. If you don’t mind, I’ll try to read it.

  Notes on the death of a child

  Blond hair, like my son.

  His eyes already looking beyond me,

  His strength had passed.

  I met him on his journey to somewhere else.

  I wish I had seen him before this,

  Known him as two-year-olds are supposed to be,

  Loud, wild, crazy, brash, bold, messy.

  We were there in the valley of the shadow of death together.

  He got there before I did.

  I had to leave him there by himself.

  Dark, cold, alone, completely alone.

  I was much too late.

  The battle was lost by the time I saw him.

  We forced his body to pretend to be alive.

  We just couldn’t accept his fate.

  As we pumped on his chest,

  We gave him medicine to keep his heart going,

  Put a tube in his throat to make him breathe,

  Searched for blood in his belly,

  Air outside his lungs.

  The whole time we knew it was his head.

  His brain was swelling, and he was dying as he came to our door.

  Kent felt his chin quiver as emotion overtook him. His voice cracked. He rested the paper on his knee and wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve, praying for the strength to continue. But when he tried again, he found he simply couldn’t. With a shaky breath, he handed the paper to Emily, asking her with his eyes to finish the reading.

  She held the paper with her right hand and his hand with her left. She squeezed hard as she read.

  We lost him when he was struck by the car.

  A bumper smashed into his skull, and his brain began to swell.

  We lost him when his parents lost track of him just for a moment.

  We lost him when his country fell into chaos.

  We lost him when war was chosen over peace, death over life.

  We lost him when sin entered the world,

  When self was chosen over God.

  What I ache in part, his parents feel in full.

  There, oh death, is your sting.

  The worst kind.

  But you will not always rule.

  You have been defeated before, and you will be wholly defeated again.

  On that great day, we will stand with him triumphant.

  You have had your day, but not forever and always.

  Someday, baby boys will not die like this.

  To God be the glory, that someday, boys will not die like this.

  Emily released Kent’s hand and folded the paper neatly as it had been, and gave it back to him.

  He took it and held it in his hand. “I guess what I’m trying to say is not everyone’s having a beautiful Christmas like we are. I’m feeling guilty that I’m sitting in this room with all of you when the troops that I lead are dodging mortar shells. My buddies are still there in that hellhole, still with that same longing and aching to be somewhere else tonight.” He raised the piece of paper for them all to see.

  Greg rose and went to his son.

  Kent stood and embraced his father. No one could speak.

  Maude looked at Silas, sitting in stillness like a marble statue, his chiseled silhouette against the lamplight. She squeezed his hand. I know what you’re thinking right this minute, Silas. And I always knew. I knew the moment you walked through the door in the evenings. Your face showed the brutal loss of a patient, especially when you lost a child. Especially Elan. I wish you didn’t have to know these things.

  A ringing phone broke the silence. Maude looked at her watch.

  Ten fifteen. I had a feeling that gunshot was trouble. It’s late for a medical call since Silas retired and no more emergencies. So something’s up.

  She watched as Silas excused himself to take the call. A moment later he returned, his face tight, and motioned for her. Her heart accelerating in sudden dread, she followed him to the kitchen with Alo close behind.

  Silas wasted no time in explaining. “It’s Beth. She’s frantic and needs our help. Jedediah went out to check on the animals and had Shep with him. All she knows is that the wolves attacked Shep and Jedediah is hurt. She doesn’t think she can’t get him back inside by herself.”

  “Oh, no,” Maude breathed, suddenly weak with worry. She felt tears threatening to overflow.

  Silas hugged her. “Alo and I’ll take care of it. Let me get my black bag.” He left for his study.

  Alo headed for the mudroom to get his jacket. “What about the gunshot?”

  “She said nothing about a gunshot,” Silas said as he hurried back into the kitchen, rummaging through his bag. “But I heard it too. We all did. Can’t be coincidental?” Obviously not finding what he wanted in his medical supplies, he shook his head and disappeared again toward his study.

  Kent entered the kitchen. “Excuse me, but I’ve spent too many nights in combat, and I can smell trouble. I came to help.”

  In spite of the situation, Maude couldn’t help but feel grateful for the offer. “Oh, Kent, the neighbors have an emergency and need Silas. Alo can get him there. You don’t need to—”

  But Alo interrupted her. “Get on your warmest clothes, son, but make it fast. We can use your help. You have instincts, and that can help in s
ituations like this one. We’ll be on foot.”

  Kent walked with purpose out of the kitchen.

  Maude was surprised. “What? You’re not taking the truck?”

  Alo put on his gloves. “No, too unpredictable. It’s probably twenty degrees and near blizzard conditions. Assuming we could actually see in front of us to drive, there could be a tree down. And we’d have to turn around and come back and go on foot any way. No time to waste. Go get Lily’s whistle. Could come in handy.”

  Maude did as Alo instructed. She and Kent returned to the kitchen together. Silas was already there. “We’re walking?” he asked as he stuffed everything into his bag.

  “Yes,” Alo replied. “It’s safer. I want to stop at the barn and get a piece of rope. We’ll each have flashlights, but we have to stay close and together. We can cross the footbridge and be there in ten or fifteen minutes. Maude, call Beth. Tell her to turn on every light in her house and anything that makes a racket. Music, an alarm—anything that makes sound. It’ll help us and keep the wolves away.”

  Maude handed Alo the whistle. He put it around his neck and stuffed it under his muffler.

  Silas handed Kent a wool hood. “Here, young man, keep your head warm. You wearing warm gloves and good shoes?”

  “Combat ready, sir.”

  Maude looked at Silas. “What do I tell the group? They’re already asking questions.”

  “Tell them what you know. We’ll call you with an update as soon as we can. And tell them to pray.” Silas grabbed his bag. “When you talk to Beth, tell her to pile the blankets on Jedediah. And you keep the lights on over here too. All of them.” He looked at Maude the way he had looked at her a thousand times through the years when he made emergency, middle-of-the-night calls.

  Maude said tearfully, “Stay safe, my love. I’ll keep the lights on for all of you.”

  Silas, Alo, and Kent opened the mudroom door to face biting winds. Alo stepped in front. “I’ll lead. Silas, you stay in the middle, and Kent, bring up the rear. We’re stopping at the barn.”

  They pulled their mufflers tighter around their necks and headed to the side door of the barn. Once inside, Alo grabbed two pieces of rope. He quickly took the ten-foot piece of rope and made three loops, one at each end, and one in the middle. He handed Kent the end of the rope. “Loop this around your wrist.” He handed Silas the middle loop, and he took the loop at the other end.

  “Kent, we have a fairly steep descent down to the creek, but amateurs hike it all the time, so just stay with us. We’ll cross the creek on the footbridge, and then it’s a climb to get up to Beth and Jedediah. No rock climbing or ledges. Just steady zigzagging up another steep hill.”

  Alo took the shorter piece of rope and turned to Silas. “Give me your bag. You’ll need a free hand.” Alo took Silas’s medical bag, looped the rope through its handles and slid his arms through the loops in the rope. The medical bag was safely strapped to his back. “Stay together and stay vigilant.”

  They tightened the loops around their wrists and headed out of the barn. Alo closed the barn door. “Keep watch for the wolves. I’ll be blowing this whistle. They hate loud noise, especially shrill, loud noises. Let’s go.”

  They walked around the west side of the barn. The wind was fierce with near whiteout conditions. The moon was almost full, but nearly invisible through the thick grayness. It was backlighting for the low-hanging blanket of clouds, giving off an eerie and fading incandescent light across the sky.

  Alo knew every inch of this property, but rarely had he seen it under these conditions. As they started their descent, he shined his flashlight, searching for the cedar rails he had built in places where the path was steep. Maude had insisted on those railings after one of her guest artists had fallen and broken her arm several years ago hiking.

  The snow was about knee deep, and its depth made every step an effort. The North Star was not to be seen. If Alo could round this curve in the path and get through the cedar brake, he would be able to see the Klingmans’ lights. House lights would become his compass.

  Alo felt his heart pounding, not so much from tromping through the snow, but from the sense of urgency to get to Beth. He preferred not to think about what might have happened and what they would find.

  Maude stood at the kitchen window as the men left the barn. She quietly watched until she could no longer see their flashlights as they faded into the gray oblivion. She dialed Beth again. No answer.

  Oh, please God, not on Christmas. Please make this right. Take care of Jedediah. And Beth, Lord. I heard the panic in her voice. I know that panic and that frantic helplessness. Please protect my Silas and Alo and Kent. Let them do their job and return. I’m begging, now that Christmas has returned to Grey Sage, please, please don’t let it be accompanied by another tragedy, another sadness to snatch Christmas away again.

  Maude’s prayerful thoughts were interrupted with a hand on her back. Lita stood shoulder to shoulder with her at the window. She heard a faint whistle.

  “Tell me, Maude.”

  “First, let me try Beth again.”

  Still no answer.

  Maude told Lita what she knew. “Silas said we must tell the guests. I hate to spoil their evening. I know they will just worry.”

  “Of course they will worry, but they can pray. Let’s go, Maude. No need for them to worry about what they don’t know. After all, one of their own is with Silas and Alo.”

  Maude and Lita walked silently down the hall to the gathering room where the group sat in wringing-their-hands silence.

  Iris was the first to speak. “My boy, he’s gone again to help someone?”

  Maude moved closer to where Iris and Greg were seated on the loveseat. “Yes, he’s with Silas and Alo.” She looked at Laura. “Laura, I believe you were the only one to meet the Klingmans when they delivered our supplies this morning. They are our closest neighbors, and Jedediah’s been hurt. They need Silas.”

  Lita interrupted. “Excuse me, Maude. I’ll keep trying to call Beth.” Lita left for the kitchen.

  “What happened?” the colonel asked. “I heard the gunshot.”

  Maude hesitated. “We’re not sure. All Beth said was that Jedediah had taken their dog Shep out and had gone to check the animals in the barn one last time before turning in. Apparently a wolf attacked Shep, and we don’t know what happened to Jedediah. We just know that he’s been hurt, and she’s worried about getting him back inside.”

  Iris commented, “But I didn’t see the car lights down the lane when Silas and Alo and Kent left.”

  “They left on foot,” Maude responded. “It’s close to three miles on the road, and Alo was worried about road conditions and falling trees in this wind. It’s a bit less than half a mile across the creek. They felt it was faster and surer to walk it.”

  The colonel leaned forward in his chair. “I remember cold like this, but a half mile isn’t that far.”

  Maude looked at Emily, her face wrinkled into a heap of worry. “Yes, and Alo knows this land, and he knows how to be safe. He won’t let anything happen to Kent or Silas.”

  Greg patted Iris’s hand. “Our boy has been in lots worse than this. He’ll be fine.”

  He stood and moved in front of the fireplace. It had been center stage for Beatrice’s performance earlier and for Alo’s Christmas story; now it would become his. “We feel helpless because of what we don’t know and what we can’t do. But I know someone who is not helpless. Nor is he asleep, and he knows and cares. The one thing we can do is talk to him. Let’s ask God to put a hedge of protection around Jedediah, for his sweet family, and for Silas, Alo, and Kent. Why don’t we bow in silence and each pray in our own way for a few minutes?”

  Maude agreed. “I think we can all find some comfort in praying.”

  She saw Lita coming down the hall, shaking her head.

  Still no answer. Something else to pray about.

  Jedediah lay in the snow, blood staining the white powder around his head.
Young Daniel crouched at his father’s feet with a gun poised and ready to shoot. His eyes nervously searched the woods around them. With only the outside barn lights and the houselights, the visibility was low.

  Beth knelt beside Jedediah and leaned over him. “Jedediah . . . Jedediah . . .” Her gloved hand smoothed the bloody curls from his forehead. She didn’t know much about wolves, only that they traveled in packs and attacked the head and neck areas of their prey, but she knew of no reported wolf attacks in New Mexico. “Come on, Jedediah, wake up.”

  “Mom, we have to get Dad inside. And I have to find Shep.”

  “Your dad’s breathing, but I think he hurt his head, and I can’t wake him up. We can’t pick him up, but we have to move him. Hand me the gun, and run to the barn and get the sled.”

  He handed Beth the shotgun and was gone before Beth could hand him the flashlight.

  Beth’s eyes moved from her husband to the wooded area around them to the barn lights. In a matter of minutes she saw a form coming toward her. “Daniel!” she cried out. “Daniel, is that you?”

  Daniel yelled back, “Yes, Mom, I’m coming.” He appeared next to her with his sled in his hand. “I’ll help you put Dad on the sled, and we can pull him to the house.”

  “Yes, we must get him out of the cold. By then Silas should be here.” She put the gun down, and they carefully maneuvered Jedediah’s body onto the makeshift stretcher. Beth made certain his head was supported. She grabbed the rope and gave it a tug. It was easier than she thought.

  She stood up. “Shine the light here, Daniel. I’m putting the rope over my head and around my waist.” As soon as that was done, she asked for the flashlight. “I’ll try to choose the smoothest way.”

  He picked up the gun and hung back as she started forward, the wind howling around them.

  “Daniel?” she hollered over her shoulder. “You know you can’t go after Shep right now!”

  “I’m not, Mom. I’m right behind you, but I’m watching for the wolves.” He took up a position behind her, guarding their backs.